Sunday, September 30, 2001
sundaysthe thing I like about sundays are that I am more relaxed. Since I almost always go out Sunday night, planning/hoping to be a bit slutty, I can relax during the day, be a bit less obsessed about sex. Sure, the AOL chatroom is on, and I do respond to those occasional Instant Messages, but knowing I want to save "it" for later, I rarely take them seriously.
Steveclickak47NY [1:20 PM]: hi
Bjland [1:25 PM]: hey man
Steveclickak47NY [1:25 PM]: hi
Steveclickak47NY [1:25 PM]: u bi are gay
Bjland [1:26 PM]: um, your profile says you are looking for a "dream girl"
Steveclickak47NY [1:26 PM]: yup
Steveclickak47NY [1:26 PM]: are u bi
Bjland [1:26 PM]: sorry, not a girl here
Steveclickak47NY [1:27 PM]: are u
Steveclickak47NY [1:27 PM]: hello
Steveclickak47NY [1:28 PM]: ok bye then
I already got an email today from a guy who wants me to wear this leather cockring I have, get it a bit worn, and mail it to him. Cool. Inspriation is always helpful, so let me slip it on now, as I tease myself (nope, won't cum, I'll save "it" for later) by watching The Best Of Colt Films Part 3 - that "solo" scene with Al Parker is pretty good (he's sorta solo, these hands come from nowhere as he jacks off in this car) but of course the scene with Bruno and Clint Lockner (has Clint Lockner ever appeared in porn without being a cop?) is the one that usually gets me rock hard. Last night, it was The Come On with Mickey Squires and Jack Hacker that pushed me over the edge......
noon, phone rings "We're having brunch, you coming?" "No", I say flatly. "No?, but we're having brunch!" "No", the whole concept of looking for clothing, money, and finding the door is repugnant to me right now. Gosh, only one beer at 3 a.m., giving up on watching porn. Maybe there's something in Bart Simpson's Guide to Life to guide me thru this slow-moving day.
Saturday, September 29, 2001
who's for dinner, er, what's for dinner?
also thinking "Sex and Silliness Sundays" should be a new weekly feature, where I discipline myself (having trouble finding a guy who will discipline me, so gotta do it myself, *sigh*), where I discipline myself not to write about IT, but just about porn (you know, gay porno-crazed ramblings, and all), sex (real, imagined, and hoped for), and music, and maybe food (I love food...in fact, I love kicking a trick out of my house as soon as he's cum, so I can get to the Ben and Jerry's, Paul Newman popcorn, etc etc)
Friday, September 28, 2001
Armageddon Days Are Here (Again)
Watching the 700 Club last night, Pat Robertson explained that Muslims believe they must convert all Christians, dead or alive, and so yes, this is a holy war. I wonder if the folks in the Mideast are getting CBN (Christian Broadcasting Network) shows, and thinking we're all like that, just as many folks here see the anti-American demonstrations in Afghanistan, Pakistan, etc, and assuming all folks over there hate us. Ughh. If you go to the CBN website, you can buy books like Witchcraft in the Pews: Who's Sitting Next to You? (how's that for paranoia?), and the truly informative Inside Islam: Exposing and Reaching the World of Islam (let's convert the heathens!)...... so, forgive me if I'm a bit paranoid about any "religious" types, and turn to old tunes like The The's Armageddon Days Are Here (Again) for consoling:
But if you think that Jesus Christ is coming
Honey you've got another thing coming
If he ever finds out who's hi-jacked his name
He'll cut out his heart and turn in his grave
Islam is rising
The Christians mobilising
The world is on its elbows and knees
It's forgotten the message and worships the creeds
Armageddon Days Are Here (Again) is a great song, go ahead, click it, listen, and use up all my Geocities free bandwidth (or pull out your own copy of The The's MIND BOMB, or go to www.audiogalaxy.com and download it yourself)
p.s. extra credit if you can identify the song that Matt Johnson is parodying with his intro: Are you ready Jesus? (uh huh) Buddah? (yeah) Mohammad?(Okay) Well allright fellas, LET'S GO!
he left just after 5 a.m., he was French, and he said everything really really loud, like "C'mon, sit on my face!", genuinely making me worry about waking the neighbors. But neither of us were able to, ahem, "rise" to the occasion, so we just laughed and goofed around til he realized he had to get home and crawl into bed with his boyfriend before the sun came up....
while I try to remember other details from Thursday night, (like some penis puppets earlier in the evening) feel free to look at my eBay auctions - don't worry, it's just mostly music-oriented stuff, cd's and stuff like that.
Thursday, September 27, 2001
Wednesday, September 26, 2001
tuesday nightIt looked like I was getting somewhere in the chatroom.... some guy immed, we did the preliminaries (where are ya, what you like doing, etc) I already had his pic from some previous attempt, and he had a handsome, well, more importantly, a kind face. I didn't mention that, thinking it could be too scarey to hear "I want you to take me in your arms and hold me and help me forget for a little while"....... While not commenting on the pics I sent, he sent the same face pic that I already had, and then an additional one of his "equipment", which looked more than adequate. But it seemed to fizzle when I told him I could be there in 25 minutes, taking a shower first. I left the computer on while I bathed in the hot comforting water, knowing he was no doubt searching for someone else, or getting ready for bed.
Getting dressed, I immed him again, and he was going to bed. I had already decided I needed to get out of the house, and the Phoenix has their 2-for-1 drafts, so that was the back-up plan. Leaving the apartment, I saw our 5th St memorial looking it's most pitiful, and I stopped, and only for the second time in the past 2 weeks, I lit some candles. I don't know why, I just couldn't do it in public before, somehow the implicit pressure to do it made it feel less genuine for me, and here I had the opportunity to have a quiet moment, out in the fall night air, and struggle with the cheap candles and get a few lit, tuck them safely inside the cardboard box contraption that had flags, notes (some I agreed with, some were clearly too harsh and vengeful), and markers to add your own thoughts. I got up, started to hop on the bike, and found myself mumbling tersely "why can't you just find one person down there, give us one small thing to celebrate, be happy about?" Yeah, my eyes were full, and when I got to the corner, I briefly considered going south, towards the "frozen zone", but I didn't want to be alone, and I even thought that maybe it could happen while I wasn't looking - not glued to the tv, not circling the lower part of Manhattan, that I could be selfish and drinking myself stupid and someone would run into the bar with the news.....
Well, the first beer went quickly, I chatted with one bar-buddy, then moved myself over to an isolated spot, partially to get a better view of a cutie, partially to not have to talk if I didn't want to. Some things never change - the two boys I found most interesting-looking wound up together, snuggling and stoking each other's bodies. I didn't even have the energy to be jealous or envious, just, "oh well" One more beer, some sad sounding song on the jukebox played, and I struggled to memorize the name so I could find and download it today (Pissing In The Wind, I think?). The Cock was darker and louder, and I started to look for a spot to sit and light up a joint. This handsome guy was looking at me, staring actually, and then a smile (or was that gas?). I didn't even notice that sitting near him was someone I knew, who called out, and motioned me over - giving me the "excuse" to be able to sit next to the guy. He immediately leaned into me, and my hand went to his shaven head, rubbing it firmly, and then his head was in my chest, as both my hands were touching him. It felt real good to be affectionate, to feel like I was reaching out. But he was real drunk, which, in a way, was good. It made me decide real fast that I didn't want to go home with him, just sit and enjoy the chance to be physical, to be less insular. He eventually suggested we leave, and I begged off, saying I was too drunk (I wasn't, not yet, anyway). He didn't argue, he just pushed his head back into my hands, saying all I needed to do was rub his head, and he'd be happy. For a while, this was fine; but soon it occurred to me that it wasn't a mutual thing - I mean, we were affectionate with each other, but it was more "simultaneous" than mutual - which can sometimes be fine, but not last night; my thoughts were elsewhere, sad, overwhelmed. He soon detected I wasn't doing so well, and asked what was wrong, and I thought several not-so-nice replies, none of which I used, thank-god. I simply told him it's complicated, nothing personal. Not immediately, but eventually he decided to leave, gave me a big kiss, but not before attempting to pull my pants down and chew on my stuff (confirming my gut feeling earlier that going home together would be a bad idea).
Finally I was able to smoke some pot, alone, and sit and think, and be sad in public, in the dark, with loud music. But even the disco music got to me when Machine's "There But For The Grace of God Go I" began playing. Somehow, I had for 2 weeks not felt, at least consciously, concerned about myself, my own safety. Then I began thinking about the first ACT-UP demo I had gone to, back in 1988 or '89, at City Hall. The issue that day was that there weren't enough hospital beds for PWA's, and so they were demonstrating with bedsheets, the theme being "Here Are the Sheets, Where are the Beds?" I say "they" because I did not yet consider myself a member of the group, but showed up to observe. I quickly joined in, though, and got matched up with a guy so we could carry a sheet together. After 20-30 minutes of circling, and shouting slogans, at City Hall, one of the "leaders" instructed us that in a few minutes, we would be lying the sheets down on the ground, lying on top of them, and continue the chant: Here Are The Sheets, Where Are The Beds? Sounded like a great idea, and on the signal, we did it. But once on the ground, on that sheet, shouting the chant, I couldn't distance myself any longer; it wasn't "they" it was me, my friends, my boyfriend. I continued shouting thru the flood of tears, truly worried, and upset.
A guy came over and sat down next to me on the bench at the Cock, waking me from my thoughts. He soon asked me to smile, and didn't seem to like my answer that it isn't done on demand, it has to just come. He asked what was wrong, and I thought to myself, "why am I getting hit on tonight?" - and I just gave him my new standard answer - "it's complicated" . He said that if I knew what he'd been through over the past few years (blah blah blah, I zoned out) trying to give me advice. I tried to say without snarling - "Sounds like that's working for you, and sitting in the dark with loud music, not smiling, is working for me right now" I didn't think I ought to be apologizing for moodiness; I mean, did I have to say the obvious??? I didn't have to say the obvious, he kissed me on the cheek, and fled to the other side of the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but why couldn't he see that my feelings were valid, too? Jeez, can't you at least pretend to remember there are 6 or 7 thousand bodies down there, as the smoke continues to rise, the workers continue to toil, and we continue to freak out in our own, individual quiet ways?
I haven't been there that late in awhile, where they actually had to kick us out, and I hopped on the bike, full of beer, but the bike knows the way home, safely. I passed the 5th St memorial, one of the candles still burning. Sometime after 4 a.m., I passed out on the couch, after turning on the news, and seeing that the world was still horribly the same.
Tuesday, September 25, 2001
vote early, and vote often
I'm very proud to have grown up in Chicago, where that was the unofficial Democratic Party slogan. Earlier today, after weighing carefully the candidates for mayor, I went to the nearly empty polling place, and had 3 people try to figure out how to let me vote. Only one of my assigned helpers was over the age of 82, a refreshing change, until I realized the guy saying "which Fitzpatrick?" couldn't tell that there was only one Fitzpatrick on his list........ ( I guess Ferme and Franklin look alot like Fitzpatrick).
- Hevesi - "I'd be willing to delay my inauguration as mayor if I'm elected" ("gosh, it sure looks like a tough job, maybe I don't really want it")
- Green - "if elections could be held during the Civil War, they certainly could now" (how old is this guy, anyway?)
- Vallone - "all those photo-ops with the mayor down the toilet" (but I'm still city council president, and there ain't gonna be no 3rd term!)
- Ferrer - "I wonder if having Al Sharpton speak for me these past 2 days was a good idea?" (but maybe the geeks seeing I use a FLASH splash page on my website will be impressed)
- "I would urge them to vote if they want to," - Giuliani ("yeah, yeah. I used to support term limits...")
- NONE OF THE ABOVE - ahhhh, old reliable, my all-time favorite candidate; worked for me in 1996 (oh wait, I wrote myself in, and boy did those old ladies have a fit!) --see ya at the run-off Oct 11th.
Monday, September 24, 2001
VOTE FOR ME, STUPID!Last night was fairly typical of a Sunday Night out at the Cock, with some minor variations (the host trying to drag me onstage to lick the go-go boy's ass, and ripping my t-shirt as I resisted, was, I guess, a bit different) ..... but since Tuesday is our primary day here in NY (postponed for 2 weeks because, well, you know..) I thought I'd share what is really pissing me off.
Politicians telling us we are wasting our votes if we write-in Mr Giuliani! Now, before 2 weeks ago, I would never have imagined voting for the man, and, to tell the truth, 2 days ago, I never would've considered it, either (just ask my friend Dan, who I screamed at on the phone, like so many other overly emotional discussions I've had in the past week). But watching these guys get on television and have the arrogance to tell voters that regardless of their feelings, emotions, and intentions, voting for him would be a "waste" - how dare they! I had intended to vote for Mr Green, but seeing his puney face explain not why HE DESERVES my vote, but rather if I have reason to vote for someone else, it's a waste. Granted, these guys need to be arrogant, they need to think they know better than everyone else in order to lead, I suppose. But you don't lead by insulting the people who you hope to win over, and represent. We all vote based on emotion, in my thinking. Like the old "lesser of two evils" argument we got last year around this time to get us to vote for Gore (yeah, vote for evil, great campaign slogan) - that was FEAR. Or the guy I'm planning on voting for in the city council race, Hoylman, smart, hard-working leftish queer man - yup, that will be HOPE - hope that a few more queers in office, who get results, will make the city a bit better. And voting for Guiliani?? I wouldn't pretend to speak for anyone else, but that too, for me, would be HOPE. Hope that even assholes like Bush, Hatch, Scalia, Powell, etc etc etc could possibly evolve into caring, nurturing leaders who set priorities that value human life (safety, freedom to dissent, etc) over money, commerce, property.......
yeah yeah yeah. I voted for Barry Commoner for president in 1980 , and sometimes I write myself in, and sometimes I don't vote at all, so don't listen to me. But I do spend a lot of time deciding whether to vote, and who to vote for, and I don't think I should listen to some arrogant SOB telling me the value of my choice - if you choose to vote, make sure it expresses what you want it to, not some sorry-ass scared weanie who thinks some write-ins might hurt his chance at getting a new $195,000/year job.......
Sunday, September 23, 2001
sex and sillinessas I strapped on a leather cockring before heading out the door to do some errands, I realized my supply was running low. Since I was gonna be up at Union Square anyway to do some banking (which credit card has an available balance?), I decided to stop off at the 14th and 3rd avenue "buddybooth" porn shop. I haven't been there in over 2 months, but the guy behind the counter smiled as soon as I came in, and as I approached, he asked if the wholesale guy had contacted me. I had asked this guy for a discount (half-jokingly) so many times, that he had taken my name and phone number and passed it along to his distributor. And the guy did call me, but I couldn't find the scrap of paper I had written his address down on, to get a catalogue, so my friend behind the counter looked and found it for me. I couldn't tell you if he's Indian, Pakistani, or what, but he always has a smile for me, and enjoys my teasing about how prices have gone up, or how I miss the elastic cockring they used to sell (it was great!) So, while i was there, I bought a new leather one (to replace the one I'm wearing today, as someone just emailed me he needs a worn-in one), plus the "donut" - a foam rubber c-ring, one snap, lightweight, and it give a nice lift to your package. As I realized I was in the way of the guys who needed change for the buddy-booths, I said goodbye to the sweet porn merchant, another reason I love this town.
sex and silliness
damn, I must say, A Night At The Adonis is an awesome film - that Jack Wrangler and Jayson MacBride are fantastic. And this morning? Well, when Master X immed me "Morning Boy" I just couldn't. I mean, I feel really really silly typing "yes sirs" and "may I sirs" - sure, you wanna come over and drop your balls in my mouth, no problem with the "may I have more please, sir" then; you wanna hold my head in your hairy crotch and force me (ha!) to gobble up your hard cock, and beg you "Please sir, shoot your load on my undeserving hairy chest" - NO PROBLEM! - but I just can't get into it thru the keyboard and monitor, I'm too aroma-oriented for that - I need to smell your sweaty balls before I can be the "good boy" kneeling, greedy, grateful cocksucker that you want me to be, ya know?????
celebrity endorsements(so, I finally figured out how to do a day's worth of blogs chronologically; i just had to hit that "chronological within the day" button - hmmpf)
well, if Gordan Grant says I should try Locker Room, then I think I'll run out and get myself a bottle before I head to the Cock for my Sunday Night out. Actually, I doubt I'll buy any, but I will be out, since I've decided Sunday will be SEX AND SILLINESS day for me - nothing here will be about you-know-what - just porn, sex, smoking dope, drinking beer, jerking off to those new porn videos that came in the mail this week ( GAGETAPE copies of Kansas City Trucking Co. and El Paso Wrecking Corp.; Arch Brown's Harely's Angels , Steve Scott's Gold Rush Boys and a previosuly unheard of early 80's film, We'll Meet Again ).
All I have to do is see if I can squeeze a few bucks out of a cash machine, roll a couple joints, and pick out a good jockstrap - so, if you happen to be out at the Cock Sunday night, just stick some poppers under my nose, and I'll be sure to show my appreciation........... meanwhile, I just remembered I also got a good copy of Jack Deveau's classic A Night At The Adonis, with Jack Wrangler.
Saturday, September 22, 2001
Thursday was a tough day - probably the rain, the same rain that 10 days before was so awesomely beautiful - but 7 days prior had kept me up all night, worried about rescue workers' job being impaired by the downpour. I realized that I haven't cried with anyone I know; it seems to happen when I am alone riding my bike, or holding a stranger tight like tonight, or last Friday, in the dark, so they can't see, hidden, secret, too upsetting to share.
Thursday, I walked around the neighborhood, which was quiet because of the rain; the memorial down the block was tattered and wet, with one of the dozen candles still somehow burning. In Thompkins Square Park, I circled the area where the candles and flowers were laid, eventually approaching the big trees in the center, reading a sign, saddened, moving slowly away..... I finally allowed myself to stand still, leaning against a fence, facing north and looking at the dozens and dozens of candles scattered. Two old women, of some undetermined Eastern European origin, who I've seen for many years in this park, slowly approach the candles. I have always imagined they must be sisters, as they are both rather old, small, feeble looking. The one is always pushing the other in a wheelchair, going for an afternoon stroll it seems, though she looks like she could use a wheelchair herself. I've never seen them talk to each other, as if everything has already been said years ago, or the one in the chair is too incapacitated to understand. So, as they approach the memorial display, they stop. The one pushing the chair bends over, picks up one of the dried flower branches, and says something to her sister - I can hear only enough to tell its not in English, then she bends back down, finding one of the few lit candles, igniting this branch, and lights several other candles. They stare at it together for only a few moments, as the rain returns, the wheelchair moves on, my face wet, once again.
Wednesday, September 19, 2001
Tuesday, September 18, 2001
Today is their 39th birthday, my sisters (they are fraternal twins). Somehow I managed to get a card/small gift out to them on Saturday, and they might actually receive it today, the mail seems to be running normally again. Coincidentally, a different type of "sister" (Blogstalker) is having his first 39th birthday today - if you haven't been following his blog, you should; and you should definately send him a birthday email.
I just read this, printed neatly on a small child's marker-blackboard, down the street, amongst the burning candles and other artifacts assembled in our 5th st memorial. It makes me so sad, did a kid write that? did a parent? riding around, this time with a discman, down to Manhattan Bridge, across Canal St to West Side Hwy, trying to exhaust myself physically as I took in the police leaning against barracades, parked tv satellite dishes, the small handful of people keeping up the "thank-you" brigade on the West Side....... Union Square had more people sleeping in it than awake, but it was peaceful, yet, of course, unsettling, with so many flames burning, zillions of flyers, and photos, and signed poster-boards, and the 2 army guys in their fatigues, taking pictures, walking together, me wondering how we can sacrifice them, even if they are willing...........
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Iworkitgood: horny on UWS
nycbehr2: midtown east looking to service
Geminii43: ne 1 in the east 20's want their cock sucked now
Geminii43: im me
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Geminii43: ne 1 in the east 20's want their cock sucked now
nycbehr2: hey Geminii
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Geminii43: lookin to suck a cock
nycbehr2: WOOF_ sounds hot
Geminii43: it would be
nycbehr2: where r u ?
Geminii43: east 20's
nycbehr2: 44th here and 2nd
YoungSuburbanDad: everyone here seems very nice
Cleancut Male: any tall white guys wana chat?
ChyLLn As AlwayZ: any young hott italian guys wanna chat im me
Iworkitgood: UWS here
nycbehr2: midtown east here
BearBob: Hi all..coming into NYC later today....
nycbehr2: hey BB
BearBob: how you doing?
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TJPNY: east vill . . .
Geminii43: n e 1 in the east 20's want their cock sucked??
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Throat212: NYC 48 DEEP THROAT NEAR WASH SQ
what? you didn't know i was a pervert who looks for cheap, anonymous sex in chatrooms late at night?? (and early in the morning, and in the afternoon, and while I'm cooking dinner, and sometimes I leave the computer on while I'm not home, ya know, just in case....?) but you won't see my chatroom name amongst those lines above, I'm a shy guy, and, well, honestly, on-line connecting is a habit, but not one I've acted on in a week, just weirds me out too much these days.......
but maybe I'll have better luck in M4M4cuddling
Monday, September 17, 2001
yes, taking our mayor's advise (remember when it used to feel like an order coming from his lips?), I have tried to return to some normal things - brunches, a date that included sex ( my 4th one of 2001, so maybe that isn't the norm), playing Bjork's Vespertine again ( I didn't want to associate my recent thoughts and feelings with her beautiful music, but it's been soothing in a way I hadn't anticipated).......
but I feel challenged by the advice to return to normalcy, I don't want it to mean simply returning to all the stuff I used to do, say, and think. I want a new normalcy, one where I am not so judgmental of other people, where I have more patience, where my perspective is more global and encompassing of other people's needs and feelings; one where I think before I speak and act, where I figure out a job or career that isn't simply paying the bills, but a daily act of contributing to "the greater good"; where "born again" doesn't make me automatically think of the hateful Falwells and Robinsons, but of the Political Science teacher, self-described Born Again (but also a Marxist), who inspired me to be a better person; where i can walk into a Catholic Church like I did last Friday and see real, regular caring people, not just wrong or misguided notions aimed at my sexuality; where my impulse to volunteer, and help out, is frequent and followed though on, and not just when something happens in my backyard.
walking with a buddy in the neighborhood, having discussed, argued, and struggled with what all this means, we came upon several folks "hawking" American flags; I said to him - "please don't let me say something awful" - knowing that he, like me, is not a flag-waver - and he simply said "everyone's gotta make a living" and we walked past...... and then we laughed that one block down, someone selling drugs to school children wouldn't even have gotten our attention, let alone concern or outrage. Folks in the park were inadvertantly displaying the flag, as the New York Times had a full-page version on the last page of it's Sunday's first section (paid for by K-Mart, with "instructions" if you can believe it!)
I can't imagine wearing or waving, or displaying a flag, but as this man has so wisely said, who am I to judge where people find their comfort. Me, I've thought about an I LOVE NEW YORK t-shirt, because, of course, i do (heart) N Y, and I love what it represents. What is it, 160, 180 languages spoken in these 5 borroughs? It was the WORLD Trade Center, ferchrissakes! People from all over were in there, and affected directly and indirectly..... people in other parts of the world, who may even hate our government, can be just as savvy as the rest of us in terms of distinguishing between governments and multinational corporations and regular joe's going to work and trying to provide for their families having this awful tragedy happen to them.....
blah blah, exhausted yet again, somehow this Elvis Costello song, written by Nick Lowe, from way way back in the 70's, seems fitting as I need something LOUDER and more THUMPING to think about......
As I walk through this wicked world,
Searching for light in the darkness of insanity.
I ask myself, "is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred and misery?"
And, each time I feel like this inside,
There's one thing I want to know.
What's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?
Oh, what's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?
And, as I walk on through troubled times,
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes.
So, where are the strong?
And, who are the trusted?
And, where is that harmony? (Sweet harmony)
'Cause each time I feel it slipping away,
Just makes me want to cry
What's so funny bout peace, love and understanding?
Oh, what's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?
Sunday, September 16, 2001
coffee was brewing, I turn the computer on, checking email, etc. Non-chalantly go into a chat room, i see screenname "MISSING WTC" - hoping it wasn't an awful joke, I looked at the profile, and the pic.......his lover of 7 years has been missing, working that day in one of the Towers, the pic, of course, was beautiful. And I don't mean handsome, attractive type beautiful, but a clear portrait of a man smiling, directly at me (into the camera, of course, not me), with a nice suit on, for some unknown occasion, perhaps just to have his picture taken.
I wanted to get out of the house earlier today, hoping that the city would be quieter on a Sunday, and I could get some exercise, as well as take a quick tour of the neighborhood. Only a few yards down the block, I see an impromptu memorial, on the 5th st side of the all-night laundry - posters, candles, signs, mostly clearly by children .....nobody there, but most of the candles still burning.
Next I headed up to Union Square. I had gone by yesterday afternoon, having heard there was a drop-off center for donations, but suspecting it could be quite crazy there, I wanted to find the spot, then figure out what, if anything, to return with. And yes, yesterday afternoon it was mobbed - too much for me to deal with, so I did a brief ride around the area just to see if I could figure out where this drop-off center might be. Huge numbers of people, I could see some of the missing person flyers on walls, and huge TV trucks with those large white satellite dishes. So, today, around 10 am, it was much calmer, still a large number of people, but quite manageable. Huge areas with candles, flyers, drawings, much in crayon and scrawled; I saw no drop off center of any type, and had heard that the relief agencies had said "enough - we have more than we can handle right now"..... as I started to get back on my bike, and leave, I saw a Dad and 2 kids, perhaps aged 5 and 7, carrying a grocery bag each, one filled with face masks, one filled with work gloves, obviously having read similar stuff as me about what the rescue workers might need.... funny how amongst all this, one little thing hits you hard, these adorable kids trying to do their part......
riding west on 14th st, as I got near 6th avenue, the traffic was backed up, but on a bike, I was able to maneuver forward, but slower, and as I got to the Salvation Army, I could see what they meant - trucks unloading, workers handing boxes to the next worker, as I approached this huge mountain of boxed goods - not stacked, just tossed high, really really high........ I continued west to the West Side Hwy, police blockades directing the light traffic, parked police and rescue vehicles..... heading south on the bike path on the Hudson, some joggers, some hand-painted signs of support, American Flags, yellow ribbons, hung on the construction fences here. Further down, closer to Christopher St, dozens of big trucks parked, with huge white satelite dishes, various TV logos from stations I've never heard of. Closer still, sporadic reporters talking in languages I couldn't quite identify, using the smoldering downtown sky as a backdrop..........
time to go home, make those calls to friends I'd made tentative plans with..... I went thru my park, Thompkins Square, for my routine circle around the dog run looking for cute boys ( several there, of course, including one, swarthy handsome man, I think is a local blogger, but I don't know him.....) continued past there, to the middle of the park where the groupings of candles had grown much bigger since Thursday night....... and again, not many actual people there, but hundreds of candles burning, not just the ones protected by the glass containers they were in, but wind-blown flames still burning strong......
down Avenue A, past another memorial set up against the power station bewteen 5th and 6th, I picked up the Sunday Times, and walked my bike past this one, it's small, "manageable" for my already fatigued psyche. No one there, but some hand-written well-wishes, posters, maybe 2 dozen candles, and again, mostly lit, with some xeroxed art pics of peace symbols, that Michaelangelo/Vatican two fingers touching thing, and amongst the few missing persons flyers, the same one as I had seen in the NYCHA housing project friday afternoon, the missing cousin of the mother and daughter I watched put up their solitary flyer next to the elevator there, Umberto, born in 1959, worked at Windows on the World, phone numbers of his wife, mother, and cousin written under his picture, and I can't remember any more..........
Saturday, September 15, 2001
that night, when I got home, there were 2 messages on my machine, both from him, apparently in my neighborhood, thinking I might be around. Now, there's no way of knowing if he called at the exact time she was singing the song, while I was thinking about him and his stress, and of course, it doesn't really matter......and the following day, i was on this amazing high from the concert, and that song stood out the most, so my "blog" that day was simply a few lines from that song, All Is Full Of Love
We haven't met yet (things being a bit hectic of late) and I don't know if or when we might; nonetheless, it seems a good time to repeat those lines from her song, as I see that at some point in all of this horrible crap, there was a moment, quite likely much more than that, that something like that feeling hit, coming up from inside, because he saw it all around him....
you'll be given love
you'll be taken care of
you'll be given love
you have to trust it
maybe not from the sources
you have poured yours
maybe not from the directions
you are staring at
trust your head around
it's all around you
all is full of love
all around you
I said goodbye to one or 2 people, hopped on my bike, pedalled quickly westward. The traffic was heavy, or so it seemed since there had been no real car traffic since Monday night, and I didn't get very far. Going home seemed useless, and yes, I went to my usual haunt, the Cock. Loud, dark, getting increasingly more crowded. Another beer, some lurking, sitting on a bench, watching the handful of men in that back darkroom maneuvering around. Probably hard to understand, certainly hard to explain, some sort of validation, of feeling alive, was needed. I couldn't put much energy into this, mostly just watching, observing the vague gestures of my brothers, eventually someone reached out. The hug came before the grope, thankfully, and again I was reminded of the last crisis, of being in a backroom, of holding onto a stranger, when sexual passion was full of anxiety and worry, and wanting the stranger in front of me to take that away, if only for a few moments.
..... as he wrote his phone number down on a dollar bill, he giggled quietly and said "Hey, you're gonna make me cum a 3rd time!" I replied: "that's not me" gesturing that my head was up here, next to him, as we both looked down. Then my new pal said: "Excuse me, sir. Sir, excuse me, I'm going home now, but thank you." Sex, humor, guilt, all mixed in, we hugged a final time, he left. I needed more loud thumping noise, so I stayed a while longer.
Sometime around 3:30 a.m., pedalling home, I could see several cop cars speed past me, lights flashing wildly, but as is usual these past few nights, no siren. When I got to Ave. C, dozens of police cars, vans, unmarked vehicles. Lots of people on the street, and a helicopter circling above, spot light illuminating the rooftops around Ave C between 5th and 8th streets..... Soon a few NYC cop cars sped away, apparently with "passengers" in the back seat, and an unmarked sedan, with several grey-suited men, also went southward. After about 20 minutes, all the police were gone, most of the neighbors went back into their homes, and I walked my bike the last block and a half home. No way of telling what that was about. Another bomb scare? a drug raid? (this neighborhood is notorious for drugs)..... just more unexplained, unnerving activity, and as I tried to get to sleep, I could still here that helicopter in the distance
Friday, September 14, 2001
local concilmember gives out flyers encouraging folks to volunteer, meet up at the local community center. I fill out a simple form, not knowing what will be asked of me, or if I can actually contribute, but I am here. It's afternoon, and they've been dealing with folks like me all day, who've responded, who've shown up, and they will brief me, and others, in a while. The idea is to canvas the area, this part of the lower east side, to identify folks who need food and medicine, and to help distribute it. While the organizers here didn't elaborate, the folks I am assigned to work with and I sumize that we are doing this, because folks who might already do these tasks have been diverted to the tragedy downtown. Once we get rolling, we are set up in a team of 5; 2 pairs who will work together knocking on doors, asking residents if they are ok, do they need food, etc. Each pair needs a Spanish speaking person, and a woman (folks are more likely to feel ok about opening their door with a woman present) Since I am neither female, nor speak Spanish, I don't make the first 2 teams sent out, but eventually wind up on a team, "co-ordinating". I spent the next 2 hours in the lobby of a tall NYCHA housing project on Ave. D, waiting for the pairs to finish their assigned odd/even floors, as I needed to stay put in order to (potentially) communicate with the pairs, as well as the guy on the street co-ordinating us. Turns out to be quite boring, and I wind up feeling quite useless.
Which gave me a lot of time to think. No conclusions, no breakthroughs, no insights, just stand, in the lobby, watching people come and go, some smiling or nodding, some recognizing the picture of the concilwoman on my badge. At one point, a woman and her little girl came in, argued quietly about the best place to put their xeroxed missing person flyer - thier cousin, who worked at Windows On The World. Very little emotion showing, meticulously taking the tape off the dispenser, reaching as high as she could to make it noticeable, carefully putting tape on all four sides, and then continuing on, in the elevator, me not reacting until they had gone, feeling like I was imposing on a private moment between the mother and child.
Eventually one pair came down, looked at me, said something like "bored out of your mind?" which at least made me smile. They had one household who requested help. They had seen the other pair, and assured me they would be down shortly. This pair had 5 families who requested help, they told me a few things to break the ice, but we all agreed it felt fairly futile - not sure if the folks really needed assistance, not sure if this was making a difference, not knowing what to make of it all.
Gosh, I sound like I'm whining, how awful. I guess I've just used to coming here and letting it out, so I can go on, figure out what's next, the 7pm candlelight thing?, alcohol?, emptying the cupboards and bringing them over to Salvation Army on 14th and 6th? it's been 48 hours since any survivor has been found, why did I think staring at the tv screen until 5 am would help?
Thursday, September 13, 2001
Now the rain clouds are rolling in. I don't know how they will deal with that, sounds like it could really fuck things up downtown.... more places are readying to handle volunteers, like right over here on 13th between B and C tomorrow - good idea to check that out. Me and Mom have now been playing phone tag, and long distance service is still hard to get.... but talked to one sister, who's husband is trapped on the west coast. Another rumor on t.v. that they have cell-phone contact with a group of 10 people trapped in the sub-basement...........6,000 tons of debris have been removed already... i can't make sense of any of this.......
"Unite Tonight- be outside at 7pm, wherever you are, show we care about each other"
not much explanation, don't know who, doesn't matter, can't be a bad idea, I'll be out.
soon after, ran into a pal, almost literally. he was walking in the middle of Ave A, I stopped as we got close, said hi, and he started to cry. He's just walked from midtown. we walked towards his apt on 3rd, and he eventually started to explain what a tough day he's had. He's a grade school teacher, school started back up, with a meeting this morning on "grief conselling" for the kids, and then they had to tell parents to leave, so kids could have a "normal day" - meanwhile, they had lots of questions, lots of worries, and still midtown was going thru it's own crises - alarms, false bomb threats, and, as he put it "I had to be the adult all day" - on his way home, down 1st Ave, he passed Bellevue and Beth Israel hospitals, where people are putting up xeroxed pleas regarding their missing loved-ones. He exclaimed "I can't do this" - helpless, I just listened, told him I'm around, any time, call...etc etc.... there will be a lot of this, and we have to do what we can for each other, and I know he'll be back at school tomorrow, as much as he's dreading it. Even if he can't make it in tomorrow, that's ok, too; he needs to take care of himself, and we all need to take care of each other.
Mom left a message on my machine; I havent heard the voice of any relative since that breif call from my sister on tuesday afternoon; and she'll be calling back in a few, I hope. I hope not to cry, but I know its okay if i do.
Wednesday, September 12, 2001
i am rolling some weed now, wanting to numb the numbness........earlier, a good pal came over, having walked all the way from midtown to my apt. on e 5th st; i made dinner, he hadn't seen tv all day, and wanted to watch... we watched bush, we watched hatch, we watched brokaw....another pal came over, we had more rolling rock. each of us had different experiences thru the day, but didnt talk much about them. i've know each of them for more than 12 years, my best friends, and we just needed to be. one left around 11, the other left at 11:30, i walked with him, and my bike, up to 14th st. Ambulances or other emergency vehicles quickly passed, but no sirens, just lights, and no other vehicles were on the road. After kissing Phil goodbye, and expressing vaguely but clearly our love for each other, I headed over for another beer at the Phoenix. Fairly unpopulated, of course, with no cabs, buses, or subways; just a few locals who needed to be out. I left, ran into another friend, and he talked me into going back and having a beer. Then the Cock, which was also fairly deserted. Soon, we said godnite, and I headed downtown, presumably home, pedalling slowly, trying to make sense of the still, clear night and the tears that kept coming back.......
i didn't make that turn east on 6th, but kept going south, to Houston, where the police barricades meant I could only go west at that point. Approaching Broadway, I waited with a few pedestrians for a parade of yellow emergency vehicles to pass, continued west until I found myself on a small West Village street, stopping needlessly at a red light. As I continued on, I could hear a saxophone play as I spotted a man standing on the corner; our eyes met, and I stopped. He explained that he was waiting for his brother-in-law, who had worked all day downtown helping out. He wanted to give him some food, and a place to relax. Briefly glancing over at the man on the curb playing the saxophone, he continued, saying he's lived here all his life, and god, he hadn't heard form all his relatives yet. Simultaneously, we both pointed up at the dangling, fragile, yet amazingly brilliant, crescent moon that hung in the sky. Neither of us said anything for a bit, I guess we both just needed to share something beautiful with a fellow new yorker............
I continued all the way to the west side highway, and could see still-dusty clouds rising behind building silhouettes, as emergency vehicle lights spun near me, and spot lights illuminated the smoke where they must've been continuing their horrendous work. Not wanting to stare off into that, I headed back east, watching the crescent above guiding me back home, this place I love, this place I could never leave. My thick bike wheels hugged the streets I've ridden hundreds of times in the past 18 years, as I returned to the lower east side, checking and looking upon the familiar, small area I trek through all the time, somehow needing to refamiliarize myself with it . Millions of thoughts popping in and out of my head, and yet nothing as strong as this is my home, i will never, ever, leave it
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
very unreal out there, lots of people in the streets, several emails from out-of-town friends who wouldn't know I dont live near there....... and me struggling to find the pals I have here, who I realized this morning I don't know where they work. One pal just called, who would normally be right next door to World Trade, but was elsewhere getting a Visa. i started to get upset talking to him, grateful to hear his voice.......gosh, I'm still very scared about the folks I have no idea might've been down there.........and needless to say, the overwhelming sadness that this has happened to anyone.........................
Barely any vehicular traffic, as I headed west, the pedestrian traffic got larger and larger....... mostly moving north, from downtown, of course, but a sizeable number going south..... when I got to the Bowery, I turned south, seeing the largest crowds walking up, and still smoke in the sky downtown. At one point, I saw a large, patient crowd, standing in front of a restaurant supply store - getting closer, I can see them handing out cups of water, and wet, cool rags, to everyone..... I began to cry again, I guess I needed to see something like that........ home again, I need to call relatives.........
Monday, September 10, 2001
sometime after the afternoon slurp slurp squish squish with LowerEastBoy, I took a nice, slow walk around the neighborhood in the rain.................... I never walk, I am always on my rusty black mountain bike, but with the rain, I got my North Face jacket, loaded Vespertine (duh!) into the discplayerthingee, and I was ready to go........ I can't recommend it enough, the rain gave the album a wonderful dimension, and as the second song played, I remembered the show at Riverside Chapel wednesday night........Bjork is whispering the lyrics to Cocoon:
who would have known ....... that a boy like him
possessed of magical sensitivity
would approach a girl like me
his head in a bosom
the taller guy from Matmos is standing over his partner, who is diligently working the Apple Laptop, and is firmly rubbing his head, massaging it, as we hear this wonderful clickety, staticky sound........he's all over his head, his neck, rubbing, as his partner's eyes sorta roll back, still working the laptop, but pushing his head up into his partners hands......and I notice the cord coming from Tall Matmos guy's massaging hands........miking this exchange ....... and Bjork still whispering:
he slides inside
half awake / half asleep
we faint back
when i wake up
the second time in his arms........ gorgeousness
he's still inside me
....... who would have known ......?
I can't tell you how erotic that was....her beautiful voice, these 2 techno-geek-homoboys making music with their bodies ......... and here I am, now, listening, walking into a deserted Thompkins Square Park, the rain coming down like mad, wearing the garb I bought 3 years ago, rainjacket and timberlands, for that trip to her homeland............
Sunday, September 09, 2001
Saturday, September 08, 2001
and all the coffee mugs and spoons are in the sink, getting scarier by the day..........guess i can just pour some half-and-half and sugar directly in the Procter-Silex carafe and drink it str8 from there...... and it appears I am the last person on the planet to download Dandy Warhols' Cool as Kim Deal - but all the grooviest tunes on the Phoenix's jukebox last night seemed to be by them
and how long was I just staring at that young redhead last night? I mean, even after some other guy went over, brought him a beer, and was chatting him up, I was still looking at that cute boy's face, and cuddly body - and he was probably 25 at the most, which usually scares me.... but, ya gotta be realistic.... more and more cuties are gonna be YOUNGER than you, as you get older, eh?
Friday, September 07, 2001
watching tv , but still online and in a chat room (as usual) , not paying much attention. This local boy pops up on my screen, i recognized the screename, we've chatted before, but got nowhere (i figured i was too this, or not enough that...ya know?) but he was friendly, and soon enough, he seemed interested in coming over. I mentioned showering, and he said "Oh, should I shower before i come over", to which i responded "that's cool or do it when you get here, i have plenty of towels, and i can videotape you while while you're showering"
This seemed to really intrigue him, and we discussed how I had several boys on tape, and he wanted to see them, and then he asked "will you videotape me sucking your cock?" (he had seen a pic, and had already complimented me, which was nice) - so of course I said "sure" and gave him the address, he said he'd be over in 25, so I bathed, set up the camera, etc.
Compared to the pic he e-mailed, he was cuter, but seemed a bit younger, in person (he's 29 - a kid!) We watched a recent taping I'd done, and he got "in the mood" quickly. A bit unsure, and tentative, he managed to slurp away quite fine for a short while; then we switched, slurp slurp some more, the tape ran out, and I put on a regular porno tape (Closed Set) ....... which he seemed to dig. His cock was very excited, very thick, hard and long (which is always nice, of course) but he lacked any sort of passion. He avoided kissing, and thats just kinda difficult for me to get into. Still, I managed to find several things to do with my mouth, and got the camera ready, pointing it over to the couch we were sitting on. "Not my face, not my face!" he squealed - okay, ok, - sheesh! i thought, realizing i wouldn't be getting an on-tape blowjob.......
I set up the camera so that we could use the tv set as a monitor, so he could see that it was aimed in a way so as to get him from around the chest down to his knees (he kept his shirt on, which was too bad, he was nicely hairy). His cock remained remarkably hard while I set it up, then I went back over to him, and gobbled him up for awhile. While he layed back, we were doing fine, but he lost "interest" if he was actually looking over at the tv set (is my bald head that unappealing??). once i got his legs up high, he couldn't see, and could only feel, and he sprang back to life.... and whispered very lightly that he was "close" so of course I asked if he wanted to cum, or prolong it awhile; he nodded to prolonging it. then I straddled his cute face, and fucked his mouth for awhile, but, unfortunatley, since he barely moved much, this really didnt get captured well on tape (I think you can just see the back of my knees, and him stroking his own cock) soon he looked up, and whispered "can you cut the tape?" which i did, returned, we changed positions again, and soon he was ready to cum - and, "house rules" I insisted he get it on my chest (they say it helps grow hair, so...)
then, he put his clothes back on so quickly (not that i've never done that myself, but still...) mentioned that he was tired, had only gotten back a few hours earlier, having spent the last few days "back home" - ahhhh, i thought, 3 days with the family, and you'll agree to have sex with anyone, gotcha.... but, being a New Yorker, even though he was in a hurry to get out of here, he still poked his head into the bathroom, and my bedroom, checking it out rather thoroughly - i'm only surprised he didn't ask what I'm paying. as he opened the door to go, he turned and said, "burn that tape, i can't believe i did that!"
i only wish he stayed long enough to hear me say "without a cum shot, I can't sell it on eBay, so no problem kid, consider it burned" (yeah, right.........)
Thursday, September 06, 2001
Wednesday, September 05, 2001
My head is swirling with anticipation about tonight's Bjork show at the Riverside Chapel. The last time I was this happy and excited was probably when I discovered how beautiful the earth is, back in 1998, when I left my worries about love, and life, behind and just wanted to feel something bigger, outside of me, so I managed to put together a trip to Iceland, alone.
it turned out to be an amazing trip, for many "big" reasons, and zillions of small ones....... I can't even articulate them here, they have managed to fill my head as I try to pick out which pair of drab shorts to go with which drab t-shirt I will wear to the performance. I'll share a few pictures, but you will never know their full meaning, their impact, without taking a dive with me into my soul......
me, a bench, and the Arctic Ocean at 10:30 at night in Husavik,
that's Dettifoss... Europe's largest falls ( the little dots near the top are people..)
Gullfoss, where I thought seriously about diving in, I was so overwhelmed with it's beauty......
Jokulsarlon, a lake of icebergs, on the south end of Vatnajokull, the world's 2nd largest icecap.
Watched Arthur J. Bressan, Jr.'s Pleasure Beach last night. Even better than I had remembered, only I wish the scene between Michael Christopher and Beau Mattews was longer - but Mr Chrisptopher's cum shot!!! OOOH LA LA! he pulls out of Beau's ass just in time for it to shoot all over the guy's back, terrific angle for maximum effect, his cock has never looked bigger (and it always looks huge!). I was "spent" long before the final scene where Johnny Dawes realizes he is, in fact, gay, and wants Michael Christopher - and dozed off somewhere while they were slurping away at each other - I love gay love stories!
Tuesday, September 04, 2001
i don't know where to begin.
- sex last night with the cute local boy who got a bit weirded out after he came (something about "never doing this before" - i think he meant the videocam)???
- sex sunday night, which I mentioned already, but it was truly fantastic, and still makes me smile thinking about it???
- getting those rare GAGETAPES on eBay this afternoon?????
- thinking about dressing my friend RANTING Dan up in slave gear as I lead him around The Lure ???????
- or maybe how incredifuckingamazing I feel having the honor of going to see HER wednesday night??????????????
i can't even think straight right now (yeah, I know, but the str8 jokes are just TOOOO obvious, eh?) my heart has been racing since 12:05 this afternoon when the email confirmation came in:
Thank you for purchasing your tickets with ticketmaster.com.
We have received your order for 2 tickets to:
SMALL VENUE NEW YORK
Wednesday, Sep 5 2001 8:45PM
please sir, may I have more?
SHE will be on Letterman tonight at 11:30(ish) but will also be doing an AOL LIVE CHAT at 7pm!!!!!!!!!!!
so, in the words of a 15-yr old fan here in nyc, GET YOUR LAZY ASSES UP AND GET THIS ALBUM - it's only like 10 friggin' bucks!
Monday, September 03, 2001
what the hell are you doing to my balls, and DON'T STOP!
just dripping sweat, all over me, as I grab his head and playfully pull on his goatee, as if it could get any closer into my crotch. he's pulled my cock out of my NYPD jockstrap, and I can't believe how hard he's gotten me; usually a victim of "performance anxiety", his abilities to get me over this are truly astounding. i'm sure it has a lot to do with the slow build-up - (including some passionate, "hard-kissing" only minutes earlier) the fact that we did the awkward "hey nice to see you again" over an hour before, not knowing how to deal with our previous Sunday Night's fun only a few feet from this same spot. But, we chatted for awhile, then split up, found each other again, watched the pornformance on stage (those were some huge dildos going up that beautiful ass, and quite smoothly, I might add!). my pal is several inches shorter than me, so he was having some difficulty seeing. after I maneuvered over to a good spot right next to the stage, I motioned for him to join me, and he stood in front of me, watching, as we just lighly brushed against each other non-chalantly, holding each other up as the crowd pushed by, etc
Man Parrish was cranking out some really great tunes; granted, that one disco/opera/techno remix thing from 1998 that he always plays is a bit annoying, but other than that, there was some great stuff - some fantastic Public Image-sounding thump thump thump screaming thing; that PSychotically sped-up newish mix of Pull Up To The Bumper; all sorts of 90's remixes of 80's tunes (Relax, Situation, etc) and at one point, after my "pal" and I had clearly established some sort of physical rapport, I was doing my "Que Sera, Sera " bit, quite comfy if we "did it" quite comfy if we didn't, as I told him I was getting a beer, and walked to the bar, that corner I like just under the speaker, and ordered my Rolling Rock. Genius of Love had just begun, and I was in college flashback mode, remembering bong hits in the dorm, drag queens performing "Give Me Back My Man" at Mobile, Alabama's "Hard Act", and dreaming of moving to New York and finding a cute boyfriend with a new york accent........... as the song wound down, I could see my boy (with the cutest accent) was still in the same spot, so I returned, he smiled, touched me lightly, we continued the vague flirtation, it was nice, real nice.....
Sunday, September 02, 2001
hmmm, another exciting Saturday night in Manhattan.
Actually, it wasn't bad. There was this weird music performance in the garden across the way (I could only see candles and red lights); some sort of eerie electronic thing. Later, a nice bowl of guacamole and chips, and I settled in to watch The Destroying Angel, a weird, trippy, yet sexy 1976 film by Peter de Rome . Needless to say, this morning I was compelled to go update my "director's" page on him, and even watched a bit of Adam and Yves, most notably the all-black orgy in the theatre bathroom scene! Time to find a copy of The Erotic Films of Peter de Rome - I think Kim's Video on St Mark's has it for rent.........