Working yesterday wasn't so bad. Much to my surprise, when the delivery guy arrived at work ( he gets in about 1/2 an hour after me, and we work together sats/suns on the take-out side) he said "hey, the Gay Pride Parade is today!" When I did a silly animated frown, he said "awww, I'm sorry you're working today and have to miss it" During the day, he had some questions, and of course I mentioned the fireworks (I had to explain that term - you know, firecrackers, 4th of July, boom boom lights in the sky or whatever lame way I had to bridge the language gap). He asked about lesbians - "is it their day, too?" "Yes, actually, I think officially its LGBT." "What? BLT?" "No, L-G-B-T, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender.""BLGT Bisexual...?" "no, no, L-G-B-T....." and we were both on the floor laughing, until he got all 4 letters correct, and all 4 groups.

Now, I'm not fooling myself that all homophobia has been erased in this man's head. But he's made progress in the 9 months I've known him. He sees me read Gay City News each weekend, sometimes asks questions about pictures or headlines that grab his attention. And I think that he hasn't done just the "so he's gay, just a fact like having blue eyes" thing, but recognizes that it is an important fact to me, his co-worker that he likes and respects (the feeling is mutual). Which reminds me of watching Charlie Rose the other night, and Nina Totenberg's comments on how much the world (or at least this country) has changed since 1986 (Bowers v. Hardwick), and how many str8 folks now know openly gay people, and what a difference it has made. Her belief (shared by many) is that the Hardwick decision was a huge embarrassment for the Supreme Court, full of homophobia and bigotry.

Gosh, I am rambling with no particular place to go. But I really recommend the excellent legal analysis in Gay City News' article - A Magna Carta For Gay Americans, and I will say I will be watching closely the Matthew Limon case - (A teeny bit more info from this Kansas City Star story - Kansas told to rethink gay sex case) - and be ready for some real cheering when this kid gets out of jail.

Other tidbits. A good friend stopped by my work, gave me a beautiful long-stemmed African Daisy, which I proudly displayed on the counter for the rest of the shift. Basically a "sorry you're working today" gift, and another reason to smile. Later I did get over to the West Side, heading straight (ahem) over to the waterfront, and enjoyed about an hour of people-watching, and fell in love several times. Then headed up to The Eagle, to enjoy the new rooftop Sunday Beer Blast. Saw an old roommate who had run out on me years ago with some unpaid bills, but I walked right up to him and said "Let's forget about the incident, and be able to say hi to each other now, ok?" He was visably relieved, and we caught up a bit on each other's lives in the years that have passed. Then I headed back down to the waterfront, not only in time for the fireworks, but ran into 3 friends in the crowd, and got to do the ooohs and ahhs with guys I know, as well as the big gay crowd. Back to the Eagle, found myself practically hypnotized by the seemingly unexplainable concept of "sheer camouflage", but the man wearing the sheer camouflage shorts had just the perfect ass for something that normally would just seem so silly (ok, so I had had 4 beers by then). Fell in love about 84 times there, then back home, more money, changing into sleazier clothes, and spent the rest of the night walking back and forth between The Cock and The Phoniex. And so, yes, a bit hungover here, and barely out of bed.

During sex last night I was thinking (it was good sex, that's why I had time to think, contemplate) about previous Gay Pride celebrations, and I remembered one from the early 80's. The boyfriend at the time had absolutely no interest in going to the Parade/March, even commenting "what would I do if my Mother saw me on the front page of the Daily News?" - so we argued a bit, and I went out on my own that Saturday night, drinking plenty and enjoying the good pre-parade vibe. I got picked up. It was a typical last-call, the guy who merely was nice enough to ask scenario, and we took a cab uptown to his place. The sex wasn't good, the kind of "let's get this over with so I can sleep" type. We slept late, and when we got up in his newly renovated Hell's Kitchen apartment, we discussed the parade, and he wanted to go together. Awake, more sober, but hungover, I really couldn't think, but told him I had to get home (Brooklyn back then) and change. We agreed to meet at a designted corner (at 2pm, I think), and I hopped on the subway home.

This is where I must apologize. I blew him off. I didn't show up; I don't remember if he gave me a phone number or not, but quite honestly I was pretty sure before I left his apartment that I wouldn't be meeting up with him. When I got home, there were messages from the boyfriend, wanting to know where I planned to watch the parade from, and I called him back, and we met up and watched. I cynically figured that the guy, if he had really believed me, might just write it off as the crowd's too big, we just missed each other. But to this day I feel awful. Why hadn't I just been honest? "Ya know, this might sound bad, but I have a boyfriend, we had a fight, I went out, and you were kind enough to take an interest, make me feel desirable, and lift my spirits. But I can't meet up with you later; I don't really know what I'll be doing, but I just need to get home and take it from there. Thank you for being so sweet, and warm and affectionate."

The odds of him seeing this? Well, maybe that's not the point, but I really am sorry. Of course, it's neither the first nor the last time I treated someone poorly - stood up, not called, not been honest enough about not having an interest (there are ways of saying these things "honestly" yet kindly) - but I guess I take this day seriously, and it's quite likely that he may have too - the idea of having a mate to share the day with, walk hand in hand, smile, laugh at the silly floats, cheer the hard-working groups, all that. Today I will miss the Parade entirely, but last night, after the sex (it was good, and coveniently located in the West Village) I rode over to Christopher St, and over to the Hudson River. Gosh, fairly quiet, but such a variety of people! Lots of teens - couples and groups, mostly Black and Hispanic (gosh, when I look at them and see how far we've come - nothing like that when I was a teenager - a group of gay friends, a place for gay teens to go and hang); a few Genre-magazine looking whiteboy couples holding hands, str8 folks with kids, st8 couples (funny enough, most of them were holding hands; guess being around gay folks makes these guys more affectionate!).

I guess my favorite part was later, further down the promenade, less people, and I see two black women, maybe my age, maybe a bit older. They were sitting on a bench, talking quietly, and one woman had her arm on the back of the bench, her hand gently stroking the back of her friend. I smiled, as I often do when I see two people showing affection in public. But then I paussed, and realized, ya know, maybe they're not lesbians, maybe they're "just friends". Or maybe they're lesbians who are "just friends"; or maybe...... maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe what matters is that two people are enjoying each other's company, showing affection, enjoying the sound of the river splashing against the shore, returning the smile of the bearded man walking past with his bike.

If you didn't think the Lawrence v. Texas case mattered, check out this article - Justices Void Prison Term Given Gay Teenager in Kansas - have oral sex with a different gender in Kansas, 15 months sentence; with the same gender, 17 years. Excellent background/perspective from Michael Bronski in this piece - The other Matthew.

Did anyone else see Kenji Yoshino on Charlie Rose last night discussing the Texas Sodomy case? Wow! Intelligent, passionate, witty - and he knows his shit, man!

Nationwide Rallies and Events scheduled tonight in 30+ locations. See you locals in Sheridan Square!

WOO-HOO!!!

"Liberty presumes an autonomy of self that includes freedom of thought, belief, expression, and certain intimate conduct." - Supreme Court, 06-26-03, Lawrence v. Texas, striking down laws outlawing sodomy, and overturning Bowers v. Hardwick.

"You going to pray?" a voice nearby said.
(Gosh, do I look that bad? I thought) "Huh?" I replied to the man unlocking his bike as I unlocked mine.
"Are you going to the parade?"
"Naw, working during the day Sunday, maybe catch the end of it, or at least the fireworks"

Gay Pride. Hmpff. This year, I'm working, so I'll miss the parade. Not the first time it's happened, (there's the year I got dumped on Gay Pride Sunday, but we're not gonna talk about that again) but it still bums me out. Not in the oh-my-god-what-will-I-do way, but still, it's something I've enjoyed to varying degrees for 20 years now. If I play my cards right, I might be able to run to the West Side just as the last few floats get to the West Village. And I'm already seeing the usual "been-there, done-that" "it's all just so commercial" "too many muscle queens" "why do they all have to act that way", etc., comments. Well, that's too bad. I don't deny that all of that is there, and probably not just here and the other major American cities, but perhaps smaller cites as well. But somehow, overall, it's such a great day to hang out, and see all the other queers (and "supporters"), and pardon the cliche', Celebrate Our Diversity. I laugh at it, but I mean it. Despite the commericialization, I always manage to notice those cute hand-made signs, the bad but joyful dancers, more and more obscure professions with offical Gay Clubs, and of course, the cliche'-bashing realization that most of us are tacky dressers. I love it all.

I've been reading lots of discussions of gay rights, gay community, the meaning of the sodomy statutes on our lives, and lots of disagreements about who "we" are and more so, who "we" ought to be. Gay Community - what the heck is that? Most gay men I know seem to take some cynical steps away from that - "I'm not like those magazines, that TV show, those AOL profiles" - I just happen to like sex with other men. And really, what more is there to being homosexual than the desire for same-sex sexual activity? Well, shared oppression I suppose is what we have in common, and that's probably about it. Otherwise, homosexuals, who can be of any nationality, culture, age, denomination, race, (etc - I'll spare you the litany of professions and lists of "we are everywhere" that was de rigeur in most 70's lesbian politcal books) really don't have much more in common. And this vast diversity of our "community", while perhaps its greatest potential strength, is most often its biggest obstacle. Think about it. We all grew up in a world, to varying degress, hostile to homosexuality - and most of us grew up in this environment long before we had any consciousness of actually being gay. Our affinities are probably more based on the class, race, religion we were raised in; and then sometime later in life, a vague distance from those groups, but a hesitancy about this new thing, sexual identity. Even when we do eventually (hopefully, in my opinion) "come out" it is often coupled with a lot of distancing from what is perceived to be the "homsexual lifestyle" - "why are they so pleasure-centric?" is one remark I hear a lot lately. Hmmm, I don't pretend to know a lot about psychology (oppressed individuals must seek outlets for their frustrations), or how to compare gay people in our culture with non-gay people (str8's by and large forego pleasure, while gays just can't keep it in their pants, or shop a lot in order to control their sexual feelings and/or frustrations?), but I guess I have to wonder, um, what is wrong with pleasure?

I don't think its enough to do my knee-jerk reaction (they have sooooo much internalized homophobia!), but since the only thing that distinguishes us from non-homosexuals is a particular variation of a form of pleasure (sex-discordant sex vs. same-sex sex), and the prohibitions and prejudices associated with this difference, how can the "gay-lifestyle" be anything other than pleasure-centric? In its broader sense, it really is about being left alone to makes one's choices about what makes me happy, right? Dick-sucking, whale-watching, file-sharing, cookie-eating, who cares? Our real problem lies in our problems as a culture (perhaps most 21st Century cultures? I don't pretend to know) with sex itself. That some people feel that sex should only be enjoyed in a certain way (to make babies, to make God happy, in a monogomous relationship, with love, on a rooftop, in front of my video camera, arranged by my parents) and not in others, denies all of us that chance to find out for ourselves - with all the mistakes, and pain and disapointments; but the joys, and little surprises, and quiet intimate moments and loud shouting releases that sex with another person can bring. The most intimate, scarey, wonderful thing one can do is share your mind and body with another person; and how someone does that ought to be left up to that individual. And if gay people choose to fool ourselves that it's not about sex, I don't know what sort of freedom we could actually achieve.

Yes, perhaps I'd like it if there were no such thing as pro-war gays, or Log Cabin gays, or racist gays; but I don't get to decide who's in this club - it's all about self-identity - and so I need to look elsewhere for support for the other things on my personal-political agenda. But I would like to see more unity around a basic principle of respect for other people's personal sexual decisions; and renewed advocacy for the freedom to pursue those sexual decisions without qualifications (skip the gay-marriage shoehorn for respectability, forget the "won't those barebackers behave, they're ruining it for the rest of us"); you have to want this freedom for everyone, without deciding who is, and who isn't, deserving. Otherwise it's not freedom, it's privilege.

So when I find myself in that horrible crowd of people on Greenwich St after the parade this coming Sunday evening, with Sausage Vendors and t-shirt vendors and Black Bronx Dyke Moms, and Gay.com keychain give-aways, BikerBears, Gays-For-Patsy-Cline, and muscleboys bumping into me without noticing me - I will quietly remind myself that what I share with these people is probably no more than the desire to make my own decisions, to be free of interference in that regard, and to occasionally come together to celebrate our individual and collective efforts to that end. And I don't think that's such a bad thing.

"House of Regrets" has some history - The Club 82 (later called the 82 Club) was established in 1951 and became one of the country's foremost male and female impersonation clubs. -- another auction for a Souvenir Program for the 82 Club located at 82 East 4th Street in New York City.

I know I need to stop sending hornybullnyc emails signed "hornyfursniffer", but I just can't help myself. It must be the look in his eyes, the "boy you really want it; and nope, you can NOT have it" way he stares back at me from my computer monitor. sigh.

gay tourist

In the dark corner when we heard "Last Call!", we continued making out. He pulled me up, grabbed my crotch as I stood in front of him, and pushed his hand through the open fly, cupping the jock's contents. While I tried to reach down to continue kissing his soft dark lips, he pulled my shorts down, exposing my ass to the handful of uninterested guys in this part of the bar. But then he pushed me around, and with one arm on my back pushed me to lean forward, and I could feel his 3-day old goatee moving in, and his teeth gently nibble where the 2 legs straps met the pouch in the back. Only a few moments of this, perhaps my hand pushing him in closer was too much, and he came up for air. I turned around, we kissed some more, and he breathlessly said "I gotta pee." When he came back, I was standing, as I saw the place emptying and knew the lights would come on at any minute. He said it was time to go, and that he'd mail me the t-shirt he was wearing that I had admired earlier.

Despite the disrupted sex in the backroom, and then the realization that someone had pick-pocketed me (23 in cash, but thankfully no wallet, and 6 was in another pocket), I was in a good mood. Crowded yes, but somehow not so frantic as this dank room can get, I was enjoying the moments of just watching, when I saw what vaguely looked like a handsome man in black thick-framed glasses looking in my direction. The maneuvering for position of the others nearby brought us closer, each seeming to be checking the other out, looking for a clear signal. When our bodies finally touched, I took the risk and purposefully and gently placed my hand on his waist, then moved it up slowly to his chest. Not moving, but not moving away, he let me continue, and finally, within a few moments of my stroking his thigh, just below the crotch but "inadvertently" brushing against it, his hands were on me as well.

It was a slow dance for awhile, both of us unsure how fast to go - but he unbuckled his pants first, pulling his uncut meat out, and i grabbed his balls. This is when he reached for my fly, unzipped it, and began tugging at the jockstrap playfully, lightly, teasingly. The kissing was light and tentative; I suppose both of us wanted to, but were "testing the waters" - you know, does he have bad alcohol breath? is he a gobbler? would he be as into as I would be? So I did the nibbling, lightly, around his mouth, and the soft pecks, small teasing amounts of tongue. This seemed to open him up (literally) and as our eyes adjusted, and we got closer, we were also more turned on. Somehow there was room for him to maneuver himself down, and suddenly his chin was on my balls, his tongue on the part of the shaft just at the balls. His mouth never took my cock, but was clearly enjoying my balls (and my balls were thoroughly enjoying his mouth). When he came up, I immediately shoved my tongue down his throat, aggressive and deep, then light again, allowing me to hear his heavy breathing. After more of this alternating up and down, I took my turn and a few minutes in his crotch I could feel his legs weaken and get wobbly, I came up for his mouth, and he whispered "Damn, you're gonna make me cum, you're so hot!" Well, not quite ready myself, I saw no need to make this poor boy wait, and gently tugged on his balls while kissing him, as he whacked himself into a little frenzy, panting and kissing and then, quiet and still. I continued to gently touch his back, stroke his face a bit as his dressed, and I zipped up as well. He asked my name, then we both giggled a bit, and he moved out of the crowd.

I only lasted a few more minutes back there myself; scoping the room out, my cock still hard and anxious, but it was best to take a break. Getting near the bar, I could see Ball-Lover at the bar with a friend, animatedly talking. Six bucks. I could get a beer, and that would be it for the night. Or I could walk across the street to the Phoenix, get a beer, and still have 3 bucks left. That's what I did. Fairly empty, and the tattooed bartender was off duty, hanging out with a friend. We eventually did the "hello nod" and I realized there's no point in staying long; but as I leaned on the windowsill, sipping the Rolling Rock, I could hear Marianne Faithfull's voice, as good a reason as any to relax, enjoy the moment. When it was over, I set the finished bottle down, and headed back across Avenue A. Inside, I see Ball-Lover again, but this time there seems to be some looking over in my direction, and soon his pal is passing me, on his way to either the bathroom or the backroom.

Ball-Lover walks over, and says "Hey, how come you're not drinking?" I respond with - "I can tell you I don't drink, or I could tell you a pickpocket got most of my money?" "Which is it?" he laughed, then made a joke about being the pickpocket, and went to the bar to get me a beer. He's in town for 4 days, from L.A., then mentions he was in the backroom, and had some great balls in his mouth. It took me a full 30 seconds to get over my jealousy, and realize he was talking about me! I offered to smoke some crappy pot with him, and we moved over to the couches. Ahhhh, loud music (including a Peaches remix), a handsome man at my side, and the relaxation of post-sex kissing, what more could I ask for? At one point the topic of porno came up (you're surprised, right?) and I mentioned collecting 8mm films lately. He then said he saw a great old scene, and described some guy and a chick (I was starting to cringe) in a convertible, stopping at a rest stop for a blowjob/fuck, and some hiker watching. HeHe! I told him I had just watched that film, on the 8mm projector, and to prove my point, finished the story of how Paul Baressi pulls off his condom after finishing up, and flings it at the hiker who whacks off with it. He was very impressed. On the couch, those baggy cargo shorts were coming in handy, as Ball-Lover had his arm up my pant leg, his hand exploring all around my jockstrap. Very playful, pulling on the strap, reaching under it, all that. After I excused myself for the bathroom, and saw all sorts of yummy men in there (one was literally standing in the middle of the room, slapping his bighardmeat, but looking too crazed in the eyes to go near), it took me a while to actually pee. When I returned to the bar, he wasn't on the couch, but I found him quickly enough, and he offered another beer. His friend joined us for a short while, but drank his beer really fast, and returned to the backroom. At this point I mentioned wanting his t-shirt, and he said to give him my address, and he'd mail it, as he'd rather not go back to his hotel shirtless. Then we returned to the couches, more making out, crotch-grabbing, and just after he growled quietly into my ear "I love licking a hairy sweaty ass," the bartender called out "Last Call!"

A Remarkable Half Century -- "The organized movement for lesbian and gay legal rights in this country is just over half a century old, and during that period the goal has broadened from equality regardless of sexual orientation to a more expansive view that incorporates gender identity and expression as well. It is remarkable to note the progress that has already been achieved." A great piece at GAY CITY NEWS by Professor Arthur S. Leonard.

Spent part of the evening watching 8mms; buzzing my head, trimming my face; realizing I hadn't eaten, riding over to the Syrian take-out; useless chatrooms; and finally, quick ride over to a crowded Regrets. Some very sweaty time with a magnificently hairy previous partner - but when I realized I've never seen him cum, and he's told me he can't do it there, it was just too frustrating, this thick fur-covered fire hydrant of a man, aroma I could live off of, growling for me to cum for him - but figuring out I was holding back, he eventually suggested "a break." I did grumble into the side of his face: "someday you're gonna cum for me, you hot man" and stumbled out of the humid little room.

BIG LOAD

Stop me before I buy again! This is the porn that's arrived at my apartment in the last 48 hours - 40+ 8mm films, over 100 paperbacks (including about 25 str8 ones - what can I say, i was buy-curious), and a mere 5 videotapes. Needless to say, some of them will be up for auction in the near future, but for anyone out there who has EXCESS PORN, please remember that I still do accept donations (e-mail me)! I've just renewed my domain name, and need to do some work on the site this summer - some better navigation, better links (and better organized) etc. And maybe, if I'm lucky, try to increase the bandwidth and learn a few new tricks (ahem) to keep it interesting.

HEY! A pal on mine is filling in on OutQ on SIRIUS, the 4-7pm (EST) slot. I can't say I'm much for talkradio, but I wanna hear if my buddy sounds as butch on the air as he does live! Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Sometimes it't tough keeping my boy Chas happy, but with the power of the internet, it's sometimes possible. Here's one of the AU PAIRS tracks from the disc he's looking for - It's Obvious. I can't say I was a fan, knew very little about them, but this tune sounds fairly familiar, and has a great Gang of Fourish style rhythm going, eh?

p.s --- WOW! on my 3rd listen, with the computer speakers cranked, this is a FANTASTIC TUNE! .........must ......... download....... more........

Have I mentioned I've been collecting vintage gay paperbacks? While my amassing of them has been fairly recent, I do have about a dozen that have been on my book shelf for years, including James Barr's The Occasional Man pictured above. But until recently, I hadn't really appreciated them, and guess why? I hadn't really spent time reading them! The basic 70's/80's titles like Suck It Slave and Ride A Hot Marine have fairly limited appeal (no different than your basic Honcho piece of "friction"), but it's the earlier ones, the pre-porn ones from primarily the 60's that are most intriguing to me. Yes, it's the stories, the characters, even when fairly stereotypical, sometimes the language, the inevitable alcoholic lost soul, etc that grab me. And doing a teeny bit of online research on the subject of gay pulp fiction, I realized why this appealed to me - mass-produced, these were really the only popular formats for portraying gay and lesbian characters. Others have written books, dissertations, even documentaries, so I won't bother, but I have to say, it's rather addictive.

....... can I just say, that after spending the past 48 hours assembling (downloading) all 11 tracks from the out-of-print Beat Crazy, I am reminded what a totally a-fuckin-mazing album it is! Some of the slower, ballad-y tunes are so heartfelt, beautiful, and moving - and the the bouncier upbeat tunes just thump thump thump bass and rhythm guitar; and his singing - angry, sad, resigned at times - hard to imagine why this isn't commercially available any more. And how lucky I was to experience it new, at age 19.

p.s. and yes, it's Jackson's voice entirely on Beat Crazy - easier to discern on the cool live version of the song I found.

Somehow the words aren't coming together the way I want; thought-fragments, theme incoherence. The deep thoughts of Sunday sandwiched between the affectionate sexcapades of late Saturday night and Monday afternoon - 2 different men, each may reappear soon. But Sunday, Father's Day, was waves of deep memories, not just about Dad, but about others who died in that period, the early 90's. Not overwhelming sadness, just deep emotions triggered by picking up a book that wasn't the usual light fare I've been reading.

And no, there is no point to the picture - he arrived in the mail today, and something about the big hard phone against the back of his thigh just made it the best pic out of that issue of Physique Pictorial - they don't make 'em like that anymore.

And it's such a crime
How they waste their time
They can't get nowhere
They've all gone Beat Crazy
Beat Crazy

It's a beeee-utiful summer morning; the temperature and humidity dropped during the night, comfy cozy under the covers, purposefully going to bed early so I'd have some energy for today's tentative date in the park (same man as 2 weeks ago! - and yes, it's on). But when I woke up, I had this overwhelming need to hear Joe Jackson's Beat Crazy (title song from his 1980 album). The amazing thing about the music you listened to in college, years later, the song comes on, and you are up bouncing around, shouting the lyrics along with the singer (and many of the lyrics I actually shouted accurately!). Way back then, this was a favorite to open my radio show (3-1/2 years 10pm-1am, wednesday nites, WTOH Mobile, ALA - 10 watts!) at school, especially if it was directly following some nerdy-type sappy music show. I have no idea who's doing the main lyric (is it Jackson with a different voice?), but the best is the "uncredited" lyrics (can't find them anywhere on the web, and my album is..... arrrghghghghghh!H!HH gone!) Jackson is at his peak lyrically and voice-wise (voice-wise?). Well, just listened to it about 16 times, annoying the neighbors rather successfully, and time to clean the apartment and my own filthy body, in case the date wants to come back here before I head off to work this evening (wink, wink)

..... mods and rockers, and beatlefreaks, punks and skunks and kooks and geeks .....

A date with a man in a kilt

.......well, one long day at work yesterday (11 hours) and another one expected today. Interrupted only by a few hours of sleep in between, and this cup of coffee I'm pouring down my throat; oh yeah, and the man from last summer who instant messaged me within minutes of me signing on to my computer last night, managing to get an invite after expressing his horniness. About 20 minutes later, he was in my kitchen, and we were making out. He said he liked the beard (last we saw each other, I had a goatee), he spent nearly 3 hours here, mostly in the bed, and he had good aim (he really liked the beard).

Some people have their dvds.....

......while the really cool people have their 8mms.

time for us to bug out

..... the hidden Nazis next door .....

and have a great weekend

It's rained a helluva lot since taking this picture yesterday evening. While the quaility of this pic isn't so great, with the late day overcast sky not allowing for enough light for my cheap digital cam. But, the waterfront on the West Side is a very relaxing spot, and watching these guys float past, with the sounds of the river lapping against the new "piers", it was very relaxing.

Didn't get hardy any sleep last night; the storm - as well as overwhelming horniness coupled with a lethargy about doing anything about it - kept me going back and forth from the bed to the desk to the VCR. So, a big pot of coffee, and some household chores should keep my busy for the afternoon.

Oh, regarding tattooedloveboy from Wednesday night - he's not really a cocktease, in the generally accepted understanding of that term. He basically didn't even see me there, being as drunk as he was - he's just this incredibly, intimidatingly beautiful man; his slim hips, his low-riding well-worn jeans, unselfconsciously dancing in place to "80's newwave hits" blasting from the speakers, his very kissable neck displaying some sort of Asian character/letter; then finally his awkwardly shy realization that I was watching, the slight grin finally turning into a "hello" - but we got nowhere past the "how've you been, haven't seen you 'round lately" stage before his focus turned to another man, the lights cruelly turned up as the clock moved past 4 a.m.

Bad Boys Get Spanked

naw, naw. Don't wake me;

unless you're the tattooed love boy cocktease from the Cock last night --- then bend over, my beard's itching.

wake me up and make me blow you

"Your listing appears to offer PayPal as a payment option. PayPal will no longer be permitted in the Mature Audiences categories beginning June 12th, 2003. All Mature Audience listings which offer PayPal, or include PayPal banners or text, as of June 12th will be ended by eBay regardless of when they were listed."

That's the little ALERT you get when you try to post an auction on eBay in their adult section - they've been doing it for several weeks now. So I wonder what's gonna happen tonight at 3am (midnight PST)? (I mean besides me getting some hard thick cock in my face?) Are they really gonna end all those auctions? Just now I checked - 20,447 auctions under "Mature Audiences" when you search for "PAYPAL" - granted, hundreds (maybe thousands) will end tonight, but still, kinda interesting to see if they just end them all, actually READ the auctions that say they won't accept it any longer and leave them alone, or just wait for the inevitable ratfinks who will be searching the listings for violations, and just reacting to that?

Did I mention I saw Monkeyboy on my way to work yesterday? Sitting on a bench in the park, looking even better in daylight. A nice guy, clearly not interested in me in "that way." A brief chat, then off to work. Then I see someone in a chatroom earlier today, closeby, then seeing age (28) interests (feet, etc...) I put 2 and 2 together and message him. So, the best I can come up with is an offer to photograph him. He won't do the jockstraps (damn!) or speedos I suggested, but says he needs body shots, so lets see. So going back to the mention of him yesterday.

See, I went out at around 3 on Monday night, finally shaking enough of my cold to crave sex again. Rounding the corner at 7th, going up Avenue A, I spot him, I had seen him earlier in the day, and recognized him from an online chat a couple years back (yes, I thought he was that cute to remember; but NO, I will not dig thru my AOL pics files to find his pic). But going up the Avenue, me looking back, I see him looking back, as well. The usual, each guy still moving forward in opposite directions, but slower, and taking turns looking back. I stop, hop up over the curb onto the sidewalk, he's turned the corner, but I can see that he's still looking back, then finally stopping and leaning on the fence (some Patti Smith song starts going thru my head -- note to Jocko, it's spelled with an "i"). Blah blah I go back, we chat, he even shows his lightly furry, thoroughly lickable tummy (something about being out of shape (ha!) as a result of a 3-1/2 yr relationship, but single now). Anyhoo.... I mention that I remember him from AOL, he laughs when I tell him his old screenname. But, like I said, didn't get anywhere except for nice conversation and the chance to gaze at his very handsome face and cute body. He lives like 2 blocks from me, so as we're standing in front of his building, he politely rejects both options I propose to him (him showing me his, or me showing him my..... apartment), and we part.

Hence the mad dash to House of Regrets at 4am, and the indignity of unknown wet stuff on my left knee as I'm trying to make the best of someone talking dirty to me above, but barely audible - like "yeah boy, you like my mrghfph, doncha?" and "C'mon, you cvghphmoph, grgmomhdg my sdkiklgh." We both got bored soon enuf, and the pacing the halls resumed til 5. So, monkeyboy is no doubt sitting in the park right now, and I might just happen to pedal past, and oh my, I think I have my camera with me!

We interrupt my afternoon in the park for this important announcement:

So help me, young man, you're starting to worry me. If I hear of you going anywhere near your Smiths or Morrisey albums, I'm comin' down to North Carolina and bury my beard in your hairy ass 'til you can't even remember He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name! You got that, boy?

Now put away the Pet Shop Boys Albums. PUT - THEM - AWAY. Take out your copy of Eat To The Beat (how 'bout Atomic?) (or better yet, Tom Tom Club's Dark Sneak Love Action and kee-rank Say I Am), smoke some dope, and finalize your vacation plans. DO IT!

p.s.: your archives aren't working

Now, do I stay inside and compose some sort of post explaining why I was up til 6 am, why the highlight of the (late) night was meeting, yet not "getting to know", monkeyboy at 3:20am on the 7th St side of Thompkins Square Park; how after at least 20 minutes of conversation I finally asked, and he finally rejected, so I biked over to House of Regrets where it was truly, truly a House of Regrets (you know, when all but 2 of the men there you wouldn't even consider sitting next to on a subway despite a hard long day at work?), and the other two quickly paired up and made lots of envy-enducing noises in their little booth; then fleeing around 10 of 5, realizing it could not possibly improve, enjoying the slow bike ride home and the blue sky, instinctively clicking on a chatroom, then letting the hunger I could satisfy on my own lead me to the kitchen??

OR

do I get come clothes on, grab a paperback, and head to the park in the beautiful sunshine in the short time left of this day before reporting to work as Burrito-Pusherman, leaving you with this mere song, with no explanation or tie-in to why this song is here, other than to say it's great -- ESG's DANCE (ask Jocko for more info on this important early 80's trio and why everyone who's anyone in NYC will be at the show on June 21) and you ought to download it and crank your speakers.

Flyingsummer [5:54 AM]: do you have pics
Bjland [5:56 AM]: good morning to you, too
Flyingsummer [5:56 AM]: good morning
Flyingsummer [5:56 AM]: have pics

Realizing that making a PB&J sandwich would be about 80 times more satisfying than continuing this fascinating conversation, I didn't respond again. It's that time when i no longer need artificial light, and perhaps ought to draw the blinds and get some sleep.

I've been trying to do an underwear inventory this past weekend (a near-impossible task, as they are scattered amongst several drawers and a box or two), and i realized just how few briefs I have. But, lying there on the floor in a pile Sunday morning when it was time to get ready to work, figured I'd do the briefs-thing and remind myself what it's like. (The pic to the left here is old, about 10 pounds and 2 inches ago - but the Hanes are the same style.) I have to say, it's not bad for an occasional change of pace, the ball-hugging, the inching up your legs as you sit, or ride the bike. But I'm afraid, for the everyday, it's gotta be boxers - I love the feel of it all just hangin' and swayin' and bumping into each other as you go.
(Have I mentioned how unusually horny I've been lately?) And of course, for looking (well, maybe just feeling) sexy, it's still jockstraps - perfect for making your package look, well, like a nice big package! And of course the butt-straps are perfect for other activities when you still want to keep just a bit of clothing on.... oh, by the way, anyone out there got any unwanted COTTON jockstraps? (I know, I know, "unwanted cotton jockstraps" is probably just as likely as "old chocolate" - hardly likely) - but just in case, lemme know. The Champion brand one here to the right was donated by a wonderful gentleman, his name escapes me, of course (I'm an ungrateful dolt, what can I say?) - but it is my current fave (ask the gentlemen at House of Regrets), and this is a recent pic - notice the cropping off of the waist!)

These I took last Thursday evening, after buying a few Drummer Magazines and some old paperbacks - this becoming my Thursday evening routine - see what I can get for a few bucks, stuff 'em in my backpack and then bike over to the West Side Piers (now called Hudson River Park). I must say, they're doing a nice job, planting trees, flowers. And when I got politely stopped by one of the Security guys to walk my bike, instead of riding it, while on the promenade, I didn't mind at all. There's still a bikeway/walkway closer to the West Side Highway, but they want it to be more peaceful and quiet at the water itself. It was good to walk, snapping a few pics looking out over the water, listening to the waves, reminding myself that I live on an island. I think they've retained the wood-pole things (whatever they're called, in the water, that used to support the old piers) for environmental reasons - some sort of animal life has grown quite accustomed to them being there, I think; and we get the benefit or having a bit of the old feel to the view. The pic below gives a bit more of a feel for the newer piers that are up; again, a nice job - benches, a lawn, tables - and some place in Jersey in the background. I wound up staying to see the sun nearly set, when it had gotten too dark to take pics without flash.

Sorting thru the tons of underwear I have, I found this great pair of boxer shorts, with a great design by an old boyfriend (er, ex-boyfriend). kinda cool, eh?

Despite popular demand, here's the intro clip to BJ GETS WET - I'm sure somewhere in the archives I've talked about my eBay days of underwear and video sales, so I won't bore you again with that. Suffice it to say, I tried to do a playful little movie which was just me, alone, pissing and cumming, and pissing and cumming, and cumming and pissing (and more cumming and pissing). Very tame stuff, you know "on me, not in me" (although, with practice, my aim could.... never mind). But this isn't any of that, it's just the intro, my bathroom. So here's the deal - you may look at the clip ONLY IF you promise not to laugh, or send me emails telling me my direction sucks, or have all the gals in the office come into your office to laugh at it with you, got it? Wait - you already loaded it, didn't you! Why I oughta..........

Really. I'm serious. Be nice. Or I'll never upload that other clip, where I'm actually nekkid and shit.

Speaking of amateur solo videos (ok, so maybe nobody was talking about them....), anyone wanna see my bathroom? It's a quick 2 minute clip from the much acclaimed 3rd (and last?) video I made some time back, and sold on eBay (gosh, 2-1/2 yrs ago?). (yes. I'm in a sorry need for on-line attention). Don't worry, the clip really is my bathroom, and doesn't have any has hardly any flesh in it.

No real relation to each other, these pics were in my "unsorted pics" folder. I tried fitting all my 8mm reels into one box, but it wouldn't work; and then last night I bid on, and won, even more! The pic on right, well, that's late one night after Phoenix, Cock, The Bar, and House of Regrets (which I have recently heard referred to as "The Cave"). Apparently some bars have these little place-savers for their smoking clientele (didn't realize adults needed to "save" their seats) - I wonder if it was wrong for me to take one? And I've noticed that a few of you have noticed that I have a "blog archives" link up at the top - yup, my 27th month, and you can cure any kind of insomnia by just skimming through any of those pages.

HOW I GOT THE STORY

Just a quickie here, that clip I mentioned last week from Nova Films, How I Got The Story, with Michael Christopher and Beau Matthews. You'll notice that there is no "live sound" just music that isn't quite timed right (it fades out during the ejaculation, that fades back in), which means it was probably added when the film got transferred to tape (but that's just a guess on my part). This particular video cassette I have is a more recent one released by the evil Midnight Men company - like HIS Video, they often do a shoddy job, and in this case, there are supposed to be 3 loops on the tape, but the tape stops suddenly, cutting off the last 5 minutes of the 3rd segment. Grrrrrrrrr! So, buyer beware - if you can, try to look for an "L A Video", "ADI", or "NOVA" label on the cassette itself, and you're more likely to get the complete film.

I adore
Back of necks
Beautifully shaven
Gives me,
Always, always, always, always, always, always,
A pretty rush down my spine

I sat on the bench, reading a Lesbian novel from 1963, enjoying the sun. He was late, or not showing up, but I was happy that he got me out of the house. When he did appear 1/2 a block away, I recognized him, but laughed that I hadn't remembered the bolt in his chin. His cologne reached me before he did, we smiled, he sat down. Some chitchat, and me silently trying to figure out if he was pleased, disappointed, or what. I suggested we go look at dogs; he looked puzzled, so I explained there was a dog run further into the park. That was a good diversion, as we had something to talk about. Then I steered us beyond the dogrun, and he mentioned that he needed to buy some water. At the store on 7th and B, he asked if I wanted anything, but turned down the 5 I tried to hand him. I thought that might be a good sign. When we returned to the park, he used some of his water to wash off some fresh apricots, handing me one. His arm lightly touched my arm on the back of the bench, and then his fingers gently touched my t-shirt at the underarm.

Somehow I had remembered him as a bigger guy, not taller, but bigger. But he was shorter, had slim arms (not unlike my own) but a bit more of a gut than me. His looks were more manicured than I usually go for (like the skinny, closely-cropped "beard"); but up close, with little flaws showing like dry skin, a scar, that sort of thing, it somehow seemed ok. He wore sandals - another no-no in my book - which revealed a toe-ring. But his smile was warm, and his touch tentative as he searched my eyes for encouragement. I'm always fascinated by the things we say we don't like "on paper" that get overlooked when a real person, with other, less tangible qualities, is sitting in front of you, as you move your leg to press against him, giving him that bit of encouragement. After he took off his light jacket to reveal a sleeveless t-shirt, I was disappointed when I detected the signs of deodorant. Well, from what I remembered, he had other parts to lick, so I could handle not venturing there (for today, at least). Finally I said "Wanna see my messy apartment?" (always ready with a good line, aren't I?) and I stood up. As he smiled his assent, I realized it would be the perfect moment for pic-taking - him below me on the bench, sunlight on his smiling face, flowers, trees, and green lawn behind him. But I also knew it could spoil the moment, and I decided against asking. We walked the few blocks to my apartment.

Once inside I steared him past the kitchen and into the bedroom, taking off my shoes, and him following my lead. He pulled me onto him onto the bed, and we had our first of many kisses. We were in bed for nearly 2 hours, no music, just the muffled sounds of the outside world coming into the apartment with the breeze, licking and tugging and carressing. His hands were wonderful, I must say, and I enjoyed giving his body light kisses everywhere. The old bite-dontbite-bite nibbling on the ear seemed to be working very well, and soon he ripped off his pants and shirt. A red speedo! That was a surprise, but it gave me the chance to nibble and lick around its edges, probing my tongue the inch or two it could reach inside without actually moving the elastic cloth. And we both seemed to be in the same frame of mind - alternating mouth-kissing with body-kissing, no rush to get to the sexparts, but still teasing them enough to keep them aroused.

It was after working up quite a sweat, that I prclaimed I just couldn't wait anymore, standing over him, watching myself spooging all over, seemingly-reckless splattering, but I was careful to only get his neck, his chest, stomach and a few more drops below. Then I collpased, and he clung close to me, as we quietly chuckled, stoking each other's bodies. The hugging and kissing and snuggling was probably the best part - no quick dressing or cleaning up. Yes, he did mention that he ought to go, and let me get ready for work; but he only held me closer, as we let the breeze sweep over our bodies. This is when I asked for the picture. I prefaced it by saying how much I love the little patch of hair on the back of his neck (actually just below the neck), and he turned over to give me a better view of his entire backside. I kissed the spot gently, letting the rest of my body hover teasingly over his, then slowly descending, nibbling at his ear and asking: "Can I take a picture of the back of your neck?"

After work, I did my usual - some food, some email reading, some web-surfing and TV. Then I grabbed my book (A World Without Men ), and cuddled up in the bed. Snuggling up with the pillows, and pulling the comforter up close, I could smell the faint aroma of him, the man who was here just a few hours ago.

lazy lazy lazy. I think i had 3 beers, maybe 4, then the obligatory ice cream and onion & garlic potato chips in bed at 4 am (obviously, I was alone). Then the phone started ringing at like 8am! Sheeesh! Hang-ups, then eventually a message from a co-worker wanting me to come in to work. I didn't answer. More ringing, more hang-ups, another message from her. Later a message from the manager/boss, sheesh! Meanwhile, I had promised a man I would call him when I woke up, and we'd do something together. A South American man I met 4 or 5 weeks ago, who had called me about 3 weeks ago, but my crappy answering machine, which I still don't know how to use, erased the message. He called again Saturday, and I played the message back about 15 times, kinda sorta getting the phone number. I finally returned his call last night, and he wanted to get together, and today our schedules gave us some free time. We met at House of Regrets back then, did the slurpy slurp in a tiny booth, but after giving my phone number, I didn't realistically expect anything to happen (if I had a nickel for everytime I gave out my number, with no call...). But, despite me not calling him this morning (as I didn't get out of bed until 11:45), he called again, getting the machine. What an a-hole I am, not answering!! I called back a few minutes later, but got his machine, and went for more coffee. He called back, and I talked him into meeting me in the park at 2pm. Could be interesting, as I barely remember anything at all about his looks, and of course I only saw him under the darkest of circumstances many weeks ago. Should I bring my digital camera - would that be tacky, or could I do the old "I need to learn how to use this, smile!" line?

Riciano [1:26 AM]: u like unct dick

I found that simple declarative statement on my computer screen late last night. Again I had left myself in some AOL chatroom, dozed off or watched TV, and sometime after the gentleman messaged me I saw it. Checking the time, I saw it had been an hour since he left it, so it was too late to respond. But he was still online, but somehow had wandered over to a BrooklynM4M room. His online pic was dark and a tad blurry, but under other circumstances (like earlier in the day, residing on the same island, and me being awake and responding within a few minutes of his initial contact), worth investigating.

Who am I kidding? I'm too much of a wise-ass. As my first reaction was to say "who told you?" or "depends who's body it's dangling off of". Now, given that this is online life, where things like HELLO, proper spelling, and punctuation are considered extraneous and somewhat bothersome, he perhaps was actually asking a question - i.e., whether or not I enjoy meat that is uncircumcised. But asking him to clarify that, I'd no doubt be accused of playing "AOL games" - whatever that is. Here's what I wish he had said:

Riciano [1:26 AM]: Hey BJ, I dig your profile, and your pic is hot! Do you like uncut cock? I would love to slap mine on your hairy chest as you grab my ass and pull my mouth towards yours. Ooops, am I coming on too strong? Well, sorry, you just got me hot - let me send you a clearer pic of myself (I know the one in my profile sucks), and if you dig me, maybe we could work something out.

Is that asking too much?