Preface: The Sacred Mind and the Playful Spirit

31 October 2025

The gothic text of civic and erotic distortion written on the eve of Halloween: Locker Room of 32 — might seem like a premeditated lucid dream. Yet it’s one of the realest moments in my bank of juicy memory.

It honours the playful and serene defiance of the inner world and how some of us turn hidden realms into rituals of meaning. We do this for ourselves and to survive the bureaucratic theatre and surveillance machines. 

Gay men have an innate ability to channel the serene. When you wield this inner charge it can provoke a class of reactions from the comical to the calculated to the serene reflection. But the spookiest of all is how it haunts the people and systems that shame this voltage in themselves. 

Their own failures to evolve continue to get potatoed to us to process for them. We know this — but we can’t abandon the courage to speak it back at the clowns behind the curtain. 

They expect us to join them onstage while they tighten their nipple clamps in punishing ways. For a while our community has been clamped by the funding control machines, boxed-up in the rainbow theatre, then sidelined by Cinderella’s pantomime.

We are responsible for defending our spirits against systems that shame the serene and punish the playful. We don’t have to play along in tired submission.

No more loyalty biscuits for a dip in the diversity fondue. 

We set the pace and the spirit of the culture. We decide where meaning resides. If we don’t, they will assign it with a media release, a LinkedIn horror piece, and a rainbow trophy for their civic mantlepiece. 

If meaning was returned to us, away from inclusion theatre and pigeon machines — we wouldn’t need to compete for scraps, sacrifice our souls to be guzzled into KPIs, and self-censor our stories to survive. This applies to every muzzled community. 

No more clapping for the pre-school pantomime. Say no to nipple clamping and self-censoring for the compliance machine. I’ve seen the control room up close, looking botched up backstage. It’s nothing more than cowardice in Kmart drag. 

Happy Halloween.

The locker room of 32.
The final cabaret.

30 October 2025

There’s something about the locker room that’s sexy, poetic and political to a guy like me. Even the one in the basement at work. Even when no one is watching.

My final cabaret in 32 took place in a realm of mythic ancestry.
The only room that didn’t make me feel like I was sinking in the fondue.

Right after I was shepherded by sheepish security into the marble lobby —
I pulled a sharp and sneaky, I went down into that sexy room. 
Even though a ring of clowns were teetering in their prowl.
Salivating on the edge of juicy,
their javelin rods to
stick and flounce me.

It was a sexy start to the day.
It got me up and rising for a
headphone session, s’il vous plait.
Moon Safari foreplay:
Sexy Boy on replay.
Feeling myself in sexy civic fantasy.
A whip around the locker room
with sexy policy candy.

To the guards that were summoned at 07:30 to partake in
Literary Lucid Sexy vs. Fragile Panic Play —
Did you piece it back together
or did it change you in some way?
Did reality make a sudden call
or were you seduced back in by disto?

I hope it’s not the sticky distortion that suffocates the sacred mind.
I hope the gummy bears don’t haunt you
as you sleep tonight.
I hope you’re doing ok these days inside
The Clown’s Battalion.