Mating in Captivity: A Memoir

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I’VE SEWN THIS TEXT FROM the frayed cloth of memory, striving, per Tristine Rainer’s advice, to “tell the whole truth with love.”

The following are pseudonyms: Eile, Zylem, Karma, Estero, Rebel, Dymion, Prophet, Lyrik, Toba, Eave, Cayta, Zeta, Shure, Loria, Swan, Kro, Owen, Teal, Rayel, Luya, Jayd, Zar, Donna, Taridon, Riven, Blayz, Vera, Rave, Mar, Rook, Amory, Tarrow, Eric, Lysis, Noi, Dylan, Elfdancer, Mason, Ethik, Leah, Adam, and Hunter.

I SPENT MOST OF MY twenties trapped in a story. Here it is:

You—all of you—belong to the Deathculture. You wake up, paste on fake smiles, scurry off to “work” for your corporate masters, raping the earth. You hate this, but you’re stuck. You need the cash. For what? McMansions, gadgets, drugs—substitutes for love.

I belong to Zendik. We’re starting a revolution. We live on a farm and do lots of art. We work together, support each other. Tell the truth. You’ve gotta follow our lead—if we’re gonna save the earth.

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