M-102 That Gay Bar

INTRODUCTION

Read this exciting story of a GAY BAR in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and the customers that trade there. Learn how the bartender try’s to Make’ an exciting man, butch in nature. Learn about the ‘Queen’s, the Fag’s, the Bull Dykes, and their Fems.’ Then look around you. I bet you’ve been in a bar like this!

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Different though the sexes are, they intermix. In every human being a vacillation from one sex to the other takes place, and often, it is only the clothes that keep the male or female likeness, while underneath, the sex is the very opposite of what it is above. With my characters, it is this mixture in them, of man and woman, one being uppermost and then the other, that often gives their conduct an unexpected turn.

“Who am I?” they seem to ask. And the bow reply could be: one, no one, or a hundred thousand. They are streaked, variegated, all of a mixture; the colors have run. They are cut to bits, like pieces of paper blown by the wind, existing no more than the world around them exists. They are floating individuals, atomized in space and putting on, like so many successive garments, the different moments of their personalities. To them, the crystal, the globe of life as one calls it, far from being hard and cold to the touch, has walls of thinnest air. If they press them, all will burst. Imprisoned within their own bodies, forever torn and hesitating between two opposite poles of attraction, they settle for the tragic view of life. Longing to embrace the whole world with their arms of understanding, but unable to, they withdraw into themselves, beyond the reach of that tyrannical reality which elude their grasp, turning away from life and toward another presence. Passing through all the stages of intellectual mysticism, they are lured into a nihilism which they regard with both fascination and horror. Like the God Janus, they have two faces, one dark and melancholy, the other bright, luminous. This inherent duality, this androgynous condition, has echoes on every level of this work. It forms a kind of inner rhythm.

“We love each other,” they say, but with the sadness one feels at the thought of never again being alone.

Why did I write this novel: Some strange ecstasy came over me. Some wild notion I had of following the birds to the rim of the world and flinging myself on the spongy surf and there drinking forgetfulness.

The Author