Date: July 24th, 2026 11:21 AM Author: Fishy ticket booth gaming laptop
Many years ago, in the heyday of San Francisco’s gay emergence, I met Foucault at a sleazy bathhouse on Folsom called the Handball Express. I didn’t know who it was until after I’d fisted him (in those days I was a very active fisting top). I’ve always believed that information is transmitted through the physical communion of sex. Rather than studying with him, I absorbed Foucault through my left hand and arm.