bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings
Wednesday, July 31, 2002
My new live webcam - refreshes every 12 hours. I'm sure I'll have another fabulous 80's shirt on by the next "refresh" - you just keep staring at the screen and wait.
Dont' be the last one on your block to enter Niporama - the host promised not to make fun of those of us with teeny tiny ones.
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
Jcthrp [9:20 PM]: master has me online looking for a guy who he can watch service each other.
Director: Joe Gage (1982)
"It's 7.a.m., it's 112 in the shade, and the temperature is rising."
That begins my all time favorite porno movie, Heatstroke. Set in Montana, some ranch hands set out to make the most of their weekend. Anyone who knows me, or has read much on these pages may be surprised that it's a fave, as this film (and especially this trailer!) has some rampant heterosexuality in it! (you've been warned) But it fits with the theme of the film - horny guys doing what they need to do to get off. The opening is set in a peep booth, with 2 buddies enjoying the shenanigans of the dancer (Suzanne Tyson - she's fantastic!), but they turn to each other for ultimate relief. I also love the scene when the guy is turned down (by Bob Shane, I'd be crushed!) at a gay sex club for "not fitting in" (he's over 40), but he grabs another rejectee (too preppy) and head out back and do quite well for themselves. Oooh, ooh, and of course the scene at the drive in, when 2 guys "discover" some dirty gay magazines in the glove compartment, and get so horned up they decide to help each other out (all the while, this Kung-Fu movie is playing in the background). But the best scene is probably Casey Donovan as a reporter lost in the woods of Montana, who imagines (or does he?) this amazing hot sex scene, and this fantastic voice-over, as he slurps on countless faceless men's cocks. Quite amazing. (I dare you to watch the scene and not cum) All narrated by Rory, the "tenderfoot" as foreman Richard Locke likes to call him, played wonderfully by sweetheart Roy Garrett. Not to mention the fantastic Man Parrish soundtrack. Enjoy.
Monday, July 29, 2002
Normally, someone's hefty load spooging all over my balls while I Feel Love is blasting in the next room would be a good thing; but somehow, it happened too quickly, and without warning, and DAMN! what a mess! I disengaged myself from the spooge-spiller, pulled my jockstrap back up, and headed for the restroom. I guess I'm just a visual kinda guy, so not getting a chance to see what was making me sticky was a disappointment, not to mention no time for me to, ahem, join in the fun. I swear, it was like 3 light kisses, and 4, maybe 5 tugs on his uncut monster and he's splattering me. What about my needs?
Earlier in the evening, a friend of mine calls to see if I'm going out. He's got the day off, it's been a long time since he's been out, etc. He mentions a few places he thought of going to (Eagle, Cheese Whiz, Cock, and some place on 1st Ave I've never heard of that charges 6 bucks before 9pm - 9pm????) I caution him that the Cock is small enough that if you're not into backroom stuff, the music can get lame and it may not be that interesting. An hour later he calls back, and wants Cock (the bar, that is). Hahaha, the backroom is not only all lit up, but black-jockstrapped Aner is doing some sort of installation back there, with paints and "canvases" spread across 1/4 of the wall space. The music is fairly horrible for the first hour, but either the alcohol, or the amusement at seeing everyone acting so confused that there is no sexual activity here after paying 10 bucks to get in, eventually it starts to sound better. By 3a.m., Parrish was playing all OlDsKewL (as the kids would say), Atomic Dog, Flashlight, something from Tom Tom Club, Neneh Cherry, etc., and I got a big chuckle out of Buffalo Gals blasting, as it's been on heavy rotation here at home all weekend (and as stoned as I was, I managed not to embarrass myself, and curtailed my instinctual urge to "air turntable" during the song). DeeJay announces loudly that the backroom is open (meaning: people are leaving in droves, so we've finally dimmed the lights back there), and in the ensuing stampede, somehow I lose my buddy.
Probably my fault, as i am a dope fiend, and I disappear for awhile to inhale some weed during some deep thumpthumpthumping tune, before taking a peak in the back for my spoogebath. Sometime later, as last call is announced, my bike unlocks itself and pulls up to the door, screaming for me to get my sorry ass out of there before the lights come up. Several items find themselves in the microwave before finding their way down my throat, and some time after 11 am this morning I wake up feeling just a tad headachey.
but not over
look at some tightywhities
Sunday, July 28, 2002
Have I ever mentioned how much I love other guy's well-worn clothing? Hmmm. Maybe I should clarify that. I don't have a thing for just anything from just anybody, but more that I like the feel of well-worn cotton underwear, t-shirts, jeans, and that sort of thing that has been broken-in by someone I dig. Doesn't have to be a boyfriend (although I do have a small collection of favorites from ex's), it can be a good friend, or some cute man who's spent a few hours in my home (although they are less likely to part with their clothes, i've had a small amount of luck).
And over the past couple of years, I have actually been sent a few choice items - jockstraps, boxers, t-shirts, etc, - from pals I've met on-line, as well. Ooooh, in fact, while I am not really a shoe person (I like them fairly plain, basic, and prefer to be barefoot at home), about a year or two ago I was sent, among other things, cowboy boots! While not really a boot person per se, there is something rather awesome about grabbing your favorite jockstrap, slipping into cowboy boots with some good tunes playing, some weed, and a full length mirror and whacking off like a crazy man! Or so I've heard....... Anyway, while I was informed this week that I might be getting a package in the mail, I had forgotten that I told this particular sweatheart that I love broken-in boxers. You should have seen me in the park yesterday, opening the package, expecting a couple of pornos, and seeing, well, FEELING, 2 pairs of boxers! MMMMmmm. Needless to say, I rushed home to change into one pair, and had an excellent night's sleep in them, (still wearing, them, in fact) and am also enjoying the other little touches he enclosed. Thanks, dude!
Saturday, July 27, 2002
Funkyjo34 [1:31 PM]: got any XXX pics
BJland [1:31 PM]: ugh
Funkyjo34 [1:31 PM]: yeah u said that in the chat room too
Funkyjo34 [1:31 PM]: yes or no
BJland [1:31 PM]: nice manners
Funkyjo34 [1:31 PM]: HEY
Funkyjo34 [1:31 PM]: HOW ARE YOU TODAY
Funkyjo34 [1:32 PM]: I WAS WONDERING IF I COULD SEE SOME XXX PICTURES OF YOURSELF PLEASE?
BJland [1:33 PM]: sorry, I'm very shy about strangers seeing me naked
Duck RockAfter nearly 96 hours (not that I was counting) of sobriety, and constant headaches, I gave in late last night and smoked some weed, and spent a few hours reading blogs (all that scratching was making me itch) which somehow in my odd little stream of consciousness lead me to searching for tunes on WinMX; Prince, McLaren, etc. - McLaren's "original" Buffalo Gals (we'll let the lawyers figure out what, if anything, of McLaren's is original) is fun, and although this Neneh Cherry/McLaren mix a bit on the long side (14 minutes?), Buffalo Mix is a lot of fun,too.
Hmmm, cool, overcast day out; maybe I should order in. Any scruffy, hairy men out there?
Friday, July 26, 2002
I found this in an AOL profile - something to think about
The most offensive things I see in profiles are the phrases "NEG - UB2" and "D&D free - UB2". If I could "B2" I would. PLEASE consider: "neg - seeking same"
Be careful, some of these tunes are rock and/or roll
Thursday, July 25, 2002
Not one of the most famous from the early 80's, but certainly one of the more endearing, Roy Garrett was one of several porn actors who Joe Gage was wise enough to let his personality shine through in his films. They worked on five films together, about half of Garrett's output; his most famous, and best, was his lead role in Heatstroke (also my favorite porno film of all time) as Rory, the "tenderfoot". A fun moment with Garrett in a Mac Larsen film (Gage's other pseudonym) called Red Ball Express happens as he and real-life lover Bob Shane are playing firemen, and thier sex is interrupted by the sirens, so they quickly zip up and run - a seemingly seemless scene (say that 3 times fast) as they go from gulping cum to pulling up their pants all in one shot, but alas, poor Roy actually caught his cock in his fly, and they had to stop filming while they iced the poor thing! Garrett also wrote poetry, and had a succesful one-man show called Hot Rod to Hell. Anyhow, check out the page, lemme know if there are any inaccuracies, and maybe sometime late Friday afternoon I can get that Heatstroke trailer ready (I said maybe!)
So I was right. They were using the garden for some sort of movie. Anyone know who the chic is? She wandered around the garden a lot, pacing back and forth with a cup of coffee, wearing what looks like underwear, while pedals fell on her head; looks like it'll be an exciting film. Meanwhile, I was a bit focused on fanboy (he seemed to be in charge of keeping the pedals flowing, when he wasn't scratching himself). Today they are shooting up on 6th st, so I can't see much (this footage was taken from my 4th story window, Wednesday evening).
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
I have absolutely NO excuse for having a hangover - no alcohol or drugs, or even late-night ice cream, last night! What is the point of being sober if your head still aches the next day?
What do I do on a typical Saturday night? Pizza, act like an ass in AOL chatrooms, and giving the finger to strange women - proof over at The Pervert Club - click on "Finger Porn" and it shouldn't be difficult to find my submission. Hell, feel free to give them the finger, too; they seem to like it.
Tuesday, July 23, 2002
tired; very tired. My night out was a blast; added to the agenda was a meet-up with circularlogic at the Phoenix at midnight. Was a great time, for many reasons, which I hope to expand on later (where is that coffee wench?!!?). Meanwhile, roll the trailer......
Times Square Strip
Monday, July 22, 2002
random thoughts- (i guess that's what I usually do anyway, but it feels more disconnected and arbitrary this morning).
Sunday, July 21, 2002
As the Jehovah's Witnesses gather around the corner on Avenue C, and I'm looking for the right drug to take to rid me of the aftereffects of last night's pizza/beer/weedfest, I'm getting a bit nostalgic for those college days when SANDINISTA! was blasting from my stereo, and I used to sign my letters to my dad "D Ortega". Back when born-again Christian wasn't a dirty word (I learned Liberation Theology from my born-again PoliSci teacher), and I flirted with the idea of quitting school and joining those Japanese monks marching for peace (oh wait, I did that, for all of 2 days) ....... ahhhh, youth!
Another Saturday Night...
N4visit: Looking now. Like to party. cool guy here can get adventerous. : )
Bjland7820: bring beer.
Lieberschwan38: hey guys
N4visit: have gatoraid.
Bjland7820: and pizza
Ivyhung: Any amazing cock suckers who like thick meat im me
Bjland7820: yeah, you bring beer, too
Mklanjello: don't forget the chips-n-dip
Bjland7820: beer, pizza, cock
Bjland7820: anythign else is gravy........
Mklanjello: mmm... gravy
Joeynyc31: 31yo vers guy lookin to meet
Joeynyc31: pic in profile
Bjland7820: bring beer
Bjland7820: you're beinging beer, too
GothamPlaya: who me ?I'm not going
Bjland7820: naw, yer coming
GothamPlaya: well if I come it's just to pick up some beer that you've been collecting then leaving
Bjland7820: works for me, man
GothamPlaya: I had a feeling it would
Saturday, July 20, 2002
Friday, July 19, 2002
and I thought I was jaded...more AOL profiles -
Member Name: Sick of Bullshit, if you're not serious move on loser!
Anyone wanna sponsor me for the Tug-O-Rama?
Thursday, July 18, 2002
Adam & Yves
Director: Peter de Rome (1974) A Hand In Hand Film
An American in Paris falls for a Frenchman; references to Last Tango In Paris (i.e. a stick of butter used as lube), a cameo appearance by producer Jack Deveau, and even a glimpse of reclusive Greta Garbo! My favorite part is probably the fantastic montage of 70's Times Square movie theatre marquees, mostly of "blacksploitation" films, which leads to the all-black orgy in a movie theatre men's room.
Technical difficultiesSomething isn't uploading correctly, so the movie trailer will come in just a short while. Meanwhile, didn't do much of anything yesterday but pouring over movie trailers and trying to sort out movie clips and music files on my hard drive. Highlights of the day included a bunch of blogger-interaction: instant messaging with 2 handsome, hot men, lunch with another cutie, and sending naughty emails to a recently inked young man out West.
Wednesday, July 17, 2002
As we're riding down Ave A, I say "Gosh, hard to believe we drank 4 beers each, eh?" "Yeah, I barely feel it myself" He keeps going south towards his home, I turn, with the idea of going home, but then the bike makes a turn west, down 3rd st, and next thing I know, I am at House of Regrets. 10 bucks later, I am zigzagging through the fairly quiet corridors, realizing that yes, I did have 4 beers, and it's showing. I was hoping for some Eurotrash Bowery Bar Beige boys, since they often find their way down here on a Tuesday night, but no sign of that particular type of doable-here, but wouldn't-take-home-with-ya kinda guys. So I went to the seats, and dropped my ass down in one for awhile, with some awful Showtime movie with Denzel getting a haircut when he turns from prison inmate to cop somehow, and Crowe is like a robot or something playing drum machines in a club. Really hard to follow, so I went prowling around some more. Eventually I barged my way into someone's booth, and he seemed pleased. Or at least his pants were happy to see me, and I made myself at home for awhile. Was actually kinda fun, and just as we were "finsihing up" some guy walks into the booth ( I always "accidentally" forget to lock up), tried to make nice nice with us, but we are already pulling clothes back on and zipping, snapping, etc. Too bad, he looked kinda nice. I washed up, rode home, ate whatever was in the fridge, and found the bed somehow.
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
Last night, Monday night, I was doing much as I am tonight - not much of anything, amusing myself with the silly notion that some guy online would come over and have hot hot sex with me and cheer me up. About 14 hours of this, and around 1 a.m., I figure it's time to get out of the house, and I put on jockstrap, button-fly shorts, etc. and bike up to The Phoenix. About to order my usual (Bud Lite), I glance up at the "on sale" sign, and the bartender says "Vodka Cranberry?" Monday nights, 2-4-1, and they know I'm cheap. Several minutes at the jukebox, then over in another isolated spot, I am figuring out my other options (I have the chip for my 2nd drink, but it's fairly dead in here), and a guy approaches. Pleasant enough looking, but no one I would seek out, he says hi. I say hi back, we sorta stall at this point. Then he pulls in a bit closer, says something a bit more clever, and I notice his smell. He has that out-all-night-drinking-just-woke-up-barely-made-it-to-work smell - ewwwwww! That is not a good smell, especially to someone who is just beginning his night out. After I slowly answer a few more of his questions with barely audible one-word answers, he says good-nite, and crawls into a corner. I feel kinda bad, but it was rather ghastly, that aroma. Leaving the bar I think "House of Regrets or The Cock?" As I get on the bike, there's a few drops of rain coming down, feels good, and I decide the loud music would be better than the boring exercise of pacing back and forth at the sexbooth place.
The place is packed! It's about 2:30 at this point, and the music is that K-tel New Wave Hits of the 80's variety, mostly pretty dreadful (apparently Duran Duran and Pat Benatar only made one song, since they only ever play the same damn one every time). But he throws in a few from my college days that i like (Blondie's Call Me, but alas, not the long version), I smoke some kitchenweed, and relax, watching people dancing fairly badly. But dancing nontheless, gotta give them credit, and I was beginning to enjoy my own vibe, watching from one of the couches, loud music, 3 a.m. in Manhattan, alone, but doing alright. Some cutie I've seen around is forcing his face down some guy's throat in the corner, another guy I've "done it" with in the buddy booth on 14th st years ago walks by, grins. Walking into the bathroom, I spot a guy I was introduced to the other night, he's looking good, I pat him on the belly as he walks by. A few minutes later, I see him on the couch, I uncharacteristically walk right up to him, and sit down next to him as he smiles in recognition. Blond is not usually my taste, but he has facial hair; long hair is rarely my taste, but he has hair on his chest, as well. We reintroduce ourselves, get cozier; he's living in Williamsburg, may be leaving the country soon, blah blah blah. A fantastic New Order tune starts up, and I tap the beat on his body playfully. We exchange some kisses; me on his head, he on my neck, a few mouth-to-mouth. Very Nice. He says something like "you should give me your digits before you leave, so we can hang out sometime." Hmmm. I smile, thinking that would be cool, but who said I was leaving? And can't you leave with me when I do?
So I'm sitting next to him, and its the superextended mix of New Order, which is quite cool, and he starts talking to some guy near us. We all exchange names, but I can't really hear them beyond the name thing. Then it looks like they are talking more intimately, like face to ear, but it's hard to see from where I am , cuz my new boyfriend has this long hair that's kinda in the way. And the song dies down, and goes into something awful, and they are still turned away where I can't quite tell, but it can't be good, so I head to the bathroom. While I'm in there, they call last call, so I know it's time to go, things don't get any prettier when the lights come on. I walk through the crowd back to the boys, as they are madly making out, practically horizontal on the vinyl-covered bench, and I keep walking, out the door, to my trusty bike.
Ugh. You know, if women had cocks, I'd give up on men so fuckin' fast.........
Monday, July 15, 2002
Does this map make me look fat?
Last night. Oh yeah, I did make it out to the fundraiser thingee, and there were tons of drag queens, and several people in Bastille Day outfits (I'm trying to remember what Lady Godiva had to do with the French Revolution, one of my pals was staring at me blankly as I was trying to explain her story), the D J played very cool tunes, of course (Style Council, instrumental Clash, and something from that dead girl). The performances themselves were very very fun - the Glamazons- these 4 full-figured gals were just too much fun! And some Frenchy named Surge (or is that Serge?) did some sort of wild, beatnik-style interpretive dance up on the tiny stage; the Dazzle Dancers bumped and grinded (grinded?, ground? grund?) with a bunch of flashlights; and Linda Simpson was, as usual, a fantactic hostess for the evening. I wanted to continue, as all these
Sunday, July 14, 2002
well, of course, I'm too butch for that (stop laughing!), so I'd settle for being a D J. - - Speaking of DJ's, hope you locals are going to Marion's for that thingee I mentioned a few days back - jeez, it's only 3 hours away, and I'm still in my pajamas! Gotta run!
"STR8" BOYS MAKE ME LAUGHAOL profile, verbatim:
Saturday, July 13, 2002
grrrrrrrrrrr. I should've known not to try going out 2 Saturday nights in a row. But this group called Northern State was playing in the neighborhood, several friends were going, and they're supposed to be a fun 3-female white Long Island hip-hop whatever. Despite having a bit of a headache as I awoke from my 2nd nap of the day, got all cleaned up, shoved a few bucks in my pocket, and I'm off on my bike. Get there, and I'm asked for I.D. Grrrrrrrrrrrr! I explain that I don't have ID, that I am in my 40's, and without even looking at me, he says "don't care, need ID" - GRRRRRRRRRRRR!
So, I guess it's pizza and, OH YEAH! chatrooms!
God made me gay?
.....if I could just get some early-in-the-day sex, I really think I could get some work done around here...
Friday, July 12, 2002
discreet?HOTstud4U: Hey man, what's up?
BJland: not much, goofing around
HOTstud4U: bi, 36, Xvgl, work-out, hairy chest, hung, looking for head. discreet.
BJland: sorry, not discreet
ugh .......... When I get to your apartment building, and the doorman asks who am I seeing, and I pull out a yellow sticky, barely able to read my own writing and give just a first name and apartment number, hmmm. And if you are 1/2 as Xtra Very Good Looking as you say, when I leave with my sly grin, walking past your neighbors with a bit of a bounce in my step, an hour later, or early the next morning, is that discreet?
OK, so I know it's a codeword for something, right? Closeted, married, bisexual, no committment, "I don't kiss", "no strings" UB2, blah blah blah. Another in my long long list of internet hook-up turn-offs. The irritations of the AOL sexhookup world. Which brings me to the Gay Pride Parade. A few weeks back, I decided I would once again venture out on my own to the Parade. Not-so-secretly wishing to, you know, meet someone, and all that. But, more pragmatically, I can be grumpy, particulary in crowds, on hot days, without food or adequate water. And I wanted to have a good time, and sometimes that's difficult for me when I'm with friends, and want to "get along" and often enough, especially at events like the Parade, talk gets cynical and too "over it all" for my tastes. I admit that I see the Parade like I do Christmas - full of emotion, and hope, and lots of memories. Not all "good" memories, in the sense of happy and care-free and pleasant, but my memories, nearly 20 years in this city. I've participated in the Parade officially (and we argued over March vs. Parade) with ACT UP, with my grad school; I've marched down 5th avenue unofficially (which is one of the many reasons I love it, so disorganized, and inclusive; plus that time on my bicycle, riding down with Dykes on Bikes!). And more often I've watched it from the sidelines; cheering this group, waiting patiently for that group to pass, laughing at the solitary Gays For Patsy Cline; tearful and pensive at the Moment of Silence......
So this year, I got a late start, rode my bike to 5th Avenue, and the first "float" I saw was 3 shirtless muscle boys on a car, dancing to loud music, with a sorta-pitiful hand-written sign: GAY ARABS. I smiled, I took a picture, and it reminded me once again why I love this day. Maybe for some of us its easy to be "out" 24/7, but for many it's not. And we've all heard how important the parade can be for those folks, who are struggling, or need that bit of confidence from just being in a "safe" environment. But I fear that many of us are getting way too impatient, we don't seem to realize that it's going to be this way for a long, long time. We're unlike practically every other minority - we don't even know we are a part of this group until sometime later in life, our teens, our 20's, and yes, still, many folks, even later.
blah blah blah, right? So anyway, I find a spot amongst "my people" and immediately I think "ugh, look at that couple, muscled up, identical to each other, grins from some sort of drug, ugh!" And I catch myself, and laugh. Yup, I've been stoned at the Parade. And I've been with boyfriends who people always said we looked like brothers. And I've walked down 5th Avenue in just my underwear (really really tacky); and.... well, no, I've never been muscled up. And so I made myself laugh, and remember, once again, what its really all about. Cliche as it is, its "Celebrating Our Diversity" - One year I'm Marching and shouting, one year I'm holding hands and cuddling, one year I watch alone, sad about getting dumped earlier in the day; but its my own choice, I live my life the way I see fit, and that's what I want for everyone - they don't need, and shouldn't have to get, my approval. I think that's the sort of freedom that we're looking for.
All the tacky clothing, and bad dancing, and ugly drag queens, made me wonder where all those sterotypes come from! But so fuckin' what! I don't want to like your clothes, or your dancing, or anything about you - i want YOU to like yourseslf, and be free and comfortable in expressing that. And when you do that, sometimes it's infectous, and gives me the confidence to do the same. I watched so many people acting silly, and looking foolish, and i found myself soooo envious! And to enjoy myself, and being there, I focused on the stuff that lifts me up (Center Kids were sooooooooo adorable!); I ogled the cuties, and cheered the goofier floats; and I practiced "tolerance" and respect for people different than me - pretty much what I think the parade is all about, getting to the point where everyone does that. And while I may never get up the nerve to dance atop a tacky float on Fifth Avenue with I Will Survive blasting from the speakers, I love knowing that if I wanted to, I could. (And by the way, if anyone knows the cute fuzzy man dancing on the God's Love We Deliver float - tell him he made my day!)
Thursday, July 11, 2002
um, is A Sorta Fairytale the new Tori Amos single? I hate to sound ignorant, but I sorta only get into every other album, so maybe its old? I like it, though.
and I guess the archives ain't quite fixed, seems it only fixed thru the 10th. What's with that?
mood schwings1 p.m. and I'm done with the first pot of coffee, don't yet feel awake, downloaded a few more songs from WinMX, am only on the C's on my blogreading list, and yes, I fixed my archives. I think that's enough for one day, eh? Ever see those pages that have those icky "mood-indicator" icons? I can't imagine being able to pick just one symbol to represent How I'm Doing, since by the time I pick one, that mood is gone - but what the hell, let's see if some music can do it -
Wednesday, July 10, 2002
I'm still freaked out about that episode earlier today. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Okay, ok, okay. Maybe this will help. Rough Trades (1977) was apparently Jack Deveau's answer to criticism that his films were too heavy on story, and too light on sex. Here we have a simple story of a guy, Hugh Allen I think, getting work done on his New York penthouse apartment. The beautiful David Gorsky shows up as the telephone repairman, and of course they have sex, which includes a beautiful fisting scene (large plate-glass windows with the N Y skyline, golden rays of sun streaming in.....). But, if you get the Bijou Video release of the film, this scene is blurred out with that technique that is usually meant for news shows and shows like Cops to conceal the accused's identity. It's really frustrating. Especially when they charge 40 bucks (and have those tacky 900# phonesex ads at the beginning)for the dang thing! Anyway, after the men finish up, Gorsky leaves (Gorsky has that swarthy Mediterranean look, much like Bob Shane and David Feinberg, that made me want to move to NYC, but I digress) gets in the elevator, and bumps into a deliveryman (Steve Dory), knocking over his box of groceries. This 12 second clip shows how these two men got a bit distracted as they were supposed to be picking up the groceries and putting them back in the box.
Speaking of lesbians....... at this blogmeet Saturday night, this woman was wearing this cockring/wristband that I used to have, but sold on eBay! She refused to give it to me, but told me they recently got more at Toys in Babeland. One last tug at her arm before I left, but she's too tough! But I did manage to dig up an old pic.
EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!For some reason (probably the cool breeze and the birds chirping) I got up early this morning. And after cruising thru a few blogs, I decided I needed to download some live R.E.M. I have a CD from 1998 that has some great live tracks, so I thought it would be cool to upload one or two for this page, right? Then I come across a really large mp3 (50 kb's), so I'm curious, and spend over an hour downloading it. But damn! It won't play in the WINAMP player, so I figure I'll try the Windows Media Player just to be sure.
EWWWWWWWWWWWW! it's a video - it's a "Lesbian Porn" video! It's clearly labeled REM The One I Love. The first frame is just 2 women's heads, so I thought maybe its a clip form When Harry Met Sally or something smarmy like that. When I hit "play" the brunette says to the blonde "After all Bill has done to hurt you, I just want you to feel better" Then plants a big wet kiss on her mouth, her long-nailed hands caressing the blond's face. Soon enough, the brunette is "down there" getting her face in the blond's thong! (gross! thongs! girlsex! i am soooooo freaking out!)
Ewwwwww!! Now I have to delete the file, defragment my system, virus-scan the machine.....
Tuesday, July 09, 2002
[ catty remark plus link to this page]
[more links to DJ, the charity, etc ]
On the agenda for today:
Monday, July 08, 2002
ok, brain's not working too well. But posting 3 video clips in 2 days, what was I thinking? (I was thinking I really needed attention from strangers on the internet, and I got it, YEAH!) But my new billing cycle has started, and looking at the stats, I would guess the bandwidth probably went thru the roof today, the first day of this cycle. So, Married Man comes down at midnight tonight (30 minutes), and Kip Noll comes down in the morning. But I'll put up a new one thurs/friday.
I'm horny! Damn! And I had a sleepover last night, which included sex, a big cookie, his fuzzy beard in all the right places, and me fleeing this morning at 11 a.m. realizing I had nothing to say that was interesting. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Some porno-disco for your listening pleasure; from Man Parrish, this is a mixed version of the song Heatstroke from the Joe Gage film of the same name, my FAVORITE PORNO FILM!
Still rather sleepy here, I seem to be staying up later and later, and waking up later and later. More on the weekend later (it's still rather fuzzy at the moment, but I think I met a couple new people). As far as the porno-clips go, I've gotten a good amount of informal feedback that seems to indicate that only a few MAC users are having trouble viewing the "wmv" format - so I wonder if downloading the Windows Media Player will help? Check it out, and if it DOES help anyone, lemme know.
Sunday, July 07, 2002
Ah, I forgot I had this trailer, for Wakefield Poole's Boys In The Sand (1971). Starring Casey Donovan and my new favorite Peter Fisk (middle pic, then kissing Casey Donovan in the 3rd pic), as well as Daniel DiCiccicio and Tommy Moore. Like others from this period, Poole couldn't believe how bad gay pornogrpahy was, and was determined to do better. Handsome men, fantastic photography, as well as humor along with hot sex, Poole prooved himself on his first film, and opened the door for others.
........thanks to everyone who wrote in the past 24 hours telling me the clips seem to work (and sorry to the guys who said it didn't - it might be an "old mac" issue, but I can't be sure). I may try one more by late tonight, if I can wake up...
Saturday, July 06, 2002
C'mon already! I just need to know if you can view these clips! Dozens of folks clicked on the Jack Wrangler clip below, and I got exactly ONE email saying it worked. You don't have to say anything else, just it worked/it didnt work.
Ok, this one is a William Higgins picture, Kip Noll: Superstar, Part 1, a compilation of Kip Noll scenes, with the addition of Jon King interviewing Noll before each scene is viewed; and of course, by the end of the film, Jon and Kip provide an additional scene. Now, here we go - IF YOU CLICK THE LINK FOR THE MOVIE TRAILER, PLEASE EMAIL ME WHETHER IT WORKED - I think that's fair, don't you?
16 bucks, a beer and a blowjobThe heat and humidity had lessened considerably, so the bike ride along the East River was refreshing. It'll probably be a long time before I can take that route downtown without thinking about the nightrides in September and October, but for a Friday night it was fairly deserted but for the traffic on the FDR Drive. I used mapquest as suggested, found the little downtown street, and could hear the loud music from 1/2 a block away. Ten bucks to get in, about 10 folks at the bar, 2 underwearboys serving alcohol from behind, and bad 90's porn on the videomonitor. BudLite 5 bucks plus tip, empty backroom, but the bathroom had soap. Upstairs, thats where everyone was; the ViagraBoys dancing on the bar, the deejay cranking out predictable newwavediscohits, the beautiful couples snickering together as they oggled the hard cocks above them at the bar.
It wasn't long before I went back downstairs to the empty backroom, leaned in a dark corner and lit up a joint. A few people lingered as the aroma filled the room, but too dark for them to figure out where it was coming from, or whether I was the kinda guy they could ask for a hit from. The music down here was better; the deejay at the front bar was also playing familiar tunes, but moodier ones from the same groups, longer versions, more interesting textures than the hits upstairs. Back and forth a few more times, eventually the beer ran out, only 2 bucks in my pocket, but the boys were getting hornier and small groups were gathering in the darkroom. This really really tall guy, who I think I remember from a week ago at the Cock, grabbed me, my stuff, then pushed my head towards his. Yup, it was him, since I didn't have to bend over far before it was jabbing at my face.
Various bodies moving in, moving out, groups forming, unforming, the total darkness of it was starting to bother me. I took a break, and just watched from the far side of the room. A David Bowie song that I didn't readily recognize had just the right tempo for watching the mass of vaguely outlined bodies across the room, and I smoked more dope. I had had sex earlier in the day, an AOL guy who turned out to be real sweet, real comfy in bed. So this was more as an observer, for future reference; is this a place I'd want to come back to? Hmmmm. So predictable, musically, and the movement of bodies; chances are I won't be back, it's a Friday Night party, and I'm loathe to indulge in the weekend stuff.
Later, a man with a goofy hat, vague outline of a decent body grabbed me as he slowly walked past; I made an appropriate gesture to show interest, and we did the above-the-waist bodycaressing bit for a while before I let him unbutton my cutoffs, then pull out my cockstrapped dick from my jockstrap. While his face didn't spend a lot of time down there, it was enough, and his hands were soft but firm as they held on to me as I could feel my spunk flying under one of those tiny, tall cocktail tables. My body shuddered as he gripped me more firmly, then whispered a silly question: "Did you like that?" I giggled in his ear, nibbled, bit, licked, then said yes as I pushed my stuff back inside my shorts, and gave him the ol' departing hug.
The bikeride up the East River was peaceful, and contemplative. Just before I got to the Brooklyn Bridge, looking up the river I saw the golden sliver of a moon framed by the Williamsburg and Manhattan Bridges. The Island (or the river) turned in such a way that for a brief while you could see all the bridges, the moon, the Brooklyn and Queens shoreline lit up lightly by industrial signs. The curve of the drive meant that the moon was out of view again, but soon enough, closer to home, there's that one curve where you can look down and see the Statue of Liberty under the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Williamsburg Bridge and Domino Sugar sign light up ahead. Great spot to pause, enjoy the view, alone in the dark, the cars on the drive going by quickly, and the barely noticeable sound of the East River lapping against the shore.
Let's see if this "wmv" file works - Got a suggestion to use this format in order to save bandwidth by making smaller sized files, so am hoping this can be viewed easily (worked for me!).
A Married Man (1980?) - from director Steve Scott - "He was straight ... to his wife. He was a married man who had them all. First the chauffeur, then the houseboy, also the actor, and finally the gardener - who saw it all." - stars Jack Wrangler as a drifter who gets picked up by gardener Joe Roberts. As they are having sex in a wealthy couple's yard, the wife discovers them, and is about to fire the gardener when he happens to know that her husband has been sleeping with all the male help.
Thursday, July 04, 2002
Earlier today I was remotely intersted in finding out how I fit within this completely meaningless coding system.
M41 Ed5 Oc6 Soc- Ind+ FV- Lit0 PolLbL Rl- Mus2 Crn SxB+ Or++ Ag Rp+ Sl++ Fet1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+ Tec+ Toy2578 Cn+ Int124
oops. I think one of those means I have my own toys, which, um, isn't completely accurate.
yesterdayAs the 3rd cup of coffee tries its best to wake me up, I am slowly remembering July 3rd:
Wednesday, July 03, 2002
Watch Out. The BAD BAD BOYS are comingIn and out of jail, in and out of trouble, and in and out of each other's pants; the Bad Bad Boys are up to no good, and no good is what it's all about.
ok, ok, so you know how you should NEVER jinx yourself by publicly saying something like "he wants to see me again before he leaves. Woah. He smells really good. He feels fantastic. He's a warm, affectionate slut!" like I did yesterday? That almost always puts the WHAMMY on things. Almost. Yup, he messaged me last night, and to make a long story very very short - it's midnight, my bike chain has fallen off as I am going downhill on Houston St. racing across town. I have to do a Fred Flintstone to stop the bike and fix it, my balls are dripping sweat by the time I make it to the West Village and grab the pint of ice cream I promised to deliver. We spent the whole night cuddling. I mean the whole night he never let go, it was sooooooo sweet!
Tuesday, July 02, 2002
I found this pic recently; it made me laugh so hard, just thinking about all the ranting and raving I do about clipped/trimmed/shaved male body parts. This is from the mid 90's, since I know I haven't done it since I quit the swim team (and if you buy that.......)
It's just so funny to me - do all men hold on to their "stuff" while watching t.v.?
As I tried to busy myself with other tasks around the apartment, the details of that encounter came to me. Good kisser. Great hands. Nice fuzzy balls, good tongue, someone who could easily alternate cuddling and face-fucking. We even fell asleep together, still sticky; and when we woke up at 2a.m., he brought out 2 big bowls of ice cream. We had sex again, we napped some more. Ahhhhh.
Back online, I found his screenname, messaged him, and he seemed pleased. 10:30, apt #24, etc etc. 45 minutes later, after climbing the stairs, the door was ajar. Dark but for Bruno playing on the VCR, I walk in, and see he's already on the bed, his face in someone's crotch. Oh shit! This I didn't expect; I was really looking forward to having this affectionate hairy man to myself - he had even messaged that I was welcome to stay the night! Trying hard not to be an old fuddy duddy, I figured I'd check it out, I can always leave. I begin to remove the walkman, and then my shirt, and the buzzer goes off. He gets up, buzzes someone in, plants a long wet kiss on my mouth, then my ear, then whispers "I hope you can stay after they leave, I wanted to surprise you". My shirt's off, this other guy walks in, starts to pull out his wanger, and a 5th guy walks in, smoking a joint, offering it around. After 2 hits, my mouth is busy on a different joint.
Later, just the two of us, we snuggled, and his soft but firm hands caressed various parts of my body for the longest time. I was falling into that "massage zone" where you no longer feel particular parts of your body feeling good, just your entire body, and mind, feeling really good and taken care of. He used his beard like a sextoy, and he mumbled little satisfied grunts and groans. I made motions to leave twice, both times he urged me to cuddle a little longer. We even talked a bit, and while he plans on leaving the country for a few months, he wants to see me again before he leaves. Woah. He smells really good. He feels fantastic. He's a warm, affectionate slut! It's very confusing, but in a very cool way.
Le Tigre's disc in my walkman, I bounced my bike all the way back to the eastside at 2 a.m, then rode around aimlessly for awhile, bompalompalomp-ing to the beats. Grinning like mad, his aroma mixing with my sweat as I enjoyed the hot night's ride.
Monday, July 01, 2002
2 a.m., locking the bike, there appears to be a line at the door. No, it's just a handful deciding whether to pay the 5 bucks. Inside, 3 barbuddies at the bar; at the far end of the room, a pool table and several more people. Jukebox music's good - Iggy Pop or something like that. But still, rather quiet for a cover-charge bar. After grabbing a beer, one of my pals says "oh, there's a bunch of folks in that room back there." Past the pooltable, I do notice a bunch of folks, and push my way past them, past what looks like a dressing room, and into a jam-packed room as the Dueling Bankheads are introduced! As I push myself forward, this room as crowded, but not quite as sweaty as the Cock's backroom only 30 minutes ago, I see several pals perched up along the wall to get the best view of the show. Lots of big smiles, and nudging to other pals that I'm here, a wave of warmth envelopes me as the Ladies on stage begin their raunchy version of I Got You Babe (renamed I Got You Bitch). Totally hysterical, the crowd loves it, other fantastic acts follow (a drunken history "lesson" about the Stonewall Riots followed up by a wild Judy Garland song; Sweetie did 2 non-lipsynced tunes, plus lots of "you're fucking fabulous" shouts out to the crowd) a few hugs from my buddies as I finally get close enough, and after the shows are over, a few minutes into the DeeJay's mix this song blasts as the room goes mad, with everyone dancing wildly (even my fuzzy butt was shaking, perhaps undectable to the untrained eye, but for me it was dancing!). About an hour more of crowd-pleasing tunes, a very sultry vibe - with more shirtless women than men, I even amazed myself how much I loved it.
It had been a long day, Parade, street festival, a few bars, and I had some rather down moments (like the bike chain falling off as I attempted to make the fireworks on the West Side), mostly self-inflicted; but somehow, I kept getting out there until it seemed to click, at 3 in the morning, a roomful of queers and freaks, loud music, booze, and that one boy, who was clearly with someone else, who still afforded me a few friendly smiles as I enjoyed (and envied) his uninhibited dancing.