bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings |
| Tuesday, December 31, 2002
 Monday, December 30, 2002
OUCH! So, you have a friend coming from out-of-town, who is determined to force you to drink all 3 nights he's here, you have errands/work to do during the day, and restaurant work at night - should you go out the night before, drink beer, smoke dope, and get pushed and shoved around some god-awful backroom where very little actual sexual activity is taking place, then come home and eat whatever is in the fridge, waking up with a hangover and food particles in your beard and on your clothes? I didn't think so, but sometimes ya just gotta. Oh, remember all that talk about TEXAS and SODOMY a few weeks back? One of the local papers finally got their on-line archives together, and you can read the excellent coverage, starting with Sodomy Returns to Supreme Court, plus a couple other background pieces, all by noted legal scholar Arthur S. Leonard. If you are hungover like me, or don't have time, you really ought to bookmark it and check it out later. Sunday, December 29, 2002
Saturday, December 28, 2002
OK, if you're going to shield your face in your sex-ad photo, a nice whiff of daddy pits is definately the way to go, don't ya think?
 Friday, December 27, 2002
"looking for uninhabited, piggy masc man. vers top here and into just about everything. " Now, was I wrong to email the gentleman and suggest that perhaps he meant uninHIBited? So touchy, these guys; he never wrote me back to thank me - or maybe he prefers his men to be uninhabited. 
Thursday, December 26, 2002
A sound I hadn't heard in a long time, just a few minutes ago I heard the call of a mourning dove. If I thought about it, I would have maintained my frown, but instinctively, a smile grew wide on my face. It's call lasted only a few minutes, but it reminded me of watching the pair on my window sill last spring; the eggs, and then the chick, and the pair taking turns feeding it. That chapter ended badly, the chick gone one morning, clearly fallen or god-knows-what from the crow that had been lurking. A few weeks later, I saw the pair again, cooing, courting, whatever it is they do. Their sounds beautiful, yet sad. More importantly to me, they seem to have no choice. Yes, I'm trying to tie this in to my own sorry sad attempts at courting, and it doesn't quite fit, but give me a break, I'm on my first cup of coffee. Christmas Eve. Tuesday morning, I woke up, coffee, feeling sorry for myself, as I hadn't made plans for the holiday - but had two errands to run, to two different post offices. The first one had a box of cookies from a very good pal, and I thought to stop off at work and share. Yes, it would be my excuse to drop in on my day off, during the day when Eyebrow Man might possibly could sorta be there. I passed the restaurant on my way to the other post office, noting there was no telltale white midsized truck in the vicinity, and did the long-line at the Post Office on Xmas Eve thing on 14th st. On my way back down Ave A, I think I see a white truck, parked right in front of the restaurant, kinda blocking the bus stop. Now, since my little obsession has started, I've learned that there are approximately 15 mid-sized white trucks on any given block in Manhattan at any given time, so with that in mind, I kept peddling faster anyway. As I crossed the intersecting street, there, I see HIM climbing into the driver's side of the truck. Peddling even faster, I hear the engine rumble, pull up just at the door, with my front wheel sorta blocking the front of the truck. When he sees me, he unrolls the window, a big beautiful smile. "HEY DADDY!" he exclaims. Wow. So he really did call me "daddy" a few weeks back when I thought I had imagined it! We talk briefly, enough for me to find that he needs to park the truck somewhere legally, but will be back, and I tell him I'm stopping in for a few minutes, and will see him inside. Gosh, it seemed like a long time before he returned, but I open the box of cookies, pass them around, and wait in the take-out area. When he comes in, I first direct him to the cookies on the counter, then we talk a bit. I ask what he's doing that night, he says "no plans" but turns and asks me the same question. I say something about "grabbing some two-4-one beers, feeling sorry for myself" but I smile as I say it, trying to make fun of myself. He asks where, I tell him The Phoenix, and while he doesn't seem to recognize the name, he says something along the lines of it sounding cool. I tell him he should come, and then I head behind the counter to look for something to write on. As I find a yellow-sticky pad, he asks what time I plan on getting there. He grimaces at the hour (midnight) but I write down my name and phone number, hand it to him, and say "make sure you call me later, it'll be fun." I pack up my stuff, and he puts out his paw for me to manhandle, and we shake. "Talk to you later" I say to him, then turn to the other 2 coworkers and say HAPPY CHRISTMAS. I sailed home, of course, mood lifted immensely. I did laundry (clean sheets), cleaned up around the apartment, and just waited to hear. I felt good about being a bit more aggressive, clearer that I'd like to spend time together. But as afternoon turned into evening, and evening into night, no phone call. I still went out, on the off chance that he might just go without calling, but nope. I had even bought an answering machine earlier in the day, something I had put off doing for weeks, but thought "gee, don't want to miss the call if I'm down in the laundry room." Since Tuesday night, my moods have swung widely - but mostly in the lower ranges - feeling foolish; feeling stupid for getting my hopes up, depending on some stranger to lift my spirits and provide a few hours or more of joy. And then feeling bad for feeling bad, that old Christmas "there are billions of others who are less fortunate than you" bit; it works well on me. It's totally true, but of course, isn't much consolation (which of course it shouldn't be). The frustrating part is that there is no answer; if not Eyebrow Man, it will be someone else again someday. Someone I will look at and know - it's him. And the anxieties of wondering if that feeling will be mutual, if that curiosity and hunger will go anywhere. It eats me up, drives me mad, I can't stop wondering. I've been thinking a lot about hands, and lips, lately. Body parts that can never be adequately displayed in any porno scenario, but probably the most important body parts there are. Cliche' for the more usual fantasies involving body parts, but the old saying about it being "what you do with it" is indeed what counts. Because it's the use of them, the touch of his warm hand on your shoulder, the gentle feeling of his lips on the back of your neck, the kisses you give to his dark eyelids - soft, reassuring, ....... yeah, I'm stuck on this guy for a while, I guess. I haven't even seen his lips, they are so buried under that 'stache! It's driving me crazy, and I only hope that the good crazy can help compensate for some of this frustrating, annoying, all-consuming please-lord-give-me-a-lobotomy bad crazy. Tuesday, December 24, 2002
Here's the thing. Yesterday came and went without the dream sequence I had hoped for, but with what I had expected - getting to work, looking around like a lost puppy, disappointed, and long stretches of "I shoulda done this" and "I shoulda said that." Sure, I'll run into Eyebrow Man on Sunday as usual; and sure, I will no doubt ride past the restaurant this afternoon on my way to the post office, eyeing any mid-size white truck in the vicinity, with more little disappointments. As the kids today say - WHATEVER. On to more important things. Today's clip features another scene from Navy Blue, from Francis Ellie. Very typical of "his" films (actually a team of 2 men, see director's page linked below) - corny dialogue, and loud distracting music; it still "works" if you wanna close the office door and pull out your wanger for a few moments and see that at least Santa gets some this Christmas.
    "Would you like to put something in my chimney?" Director: Francis Ellie (1979) Monday, December 23, 2002
So late last night, Eyebrow Man is standing in front of my Christmas tree, wearing nothing but a big red ribbon, as I approach him from behind, slowly taking the ribbon off. Wait! I don't have a Christmas tree! Damn, I keep confusing myself with Jack Wrangler. I was watching Navy Blue last night, a story about two guys in the Navy on a 12-hour leave in NYC. Each is secretly in love with the other, but can't bare to admit it to the other and jeopardise their friendship. They part ways, and Jack is trying to enjoy site-seeing on his own, but loses himself in thought looking at one of the Christmas-decorated windows, imagining a romantic encounter with his buddy, 70's bearded hunk George Payne, complete with disco-theme music, of course. If y'all are good, and send me "please please please" emails, I'll post the better quality Salvation-Army-Santa-picking-up-Payne scene. But meanwhile, enjoy this more sensual scene. "Wish I didn't have to keep up this pretense. Just tell him how I feel. I wonder what it would be like to make it with him. Ahhh, what a fabulous Christmas present that would be! To make it with him. Christmas present. Christmas present. Christmas present.... " Director: Francis Ellie (1979) Sunday, December 22, 2002
Saturday, as me and my bike approach the restaurant, I see the truck parked across the street. I know Eyebrow Man doesn't work on Saturdays, but I can feel my balls sweating nonetheless. Of course he's not there, and it's an ordinary, uneventful day at work. I do the usual, get some food to go to take home, and have my usual Saturday night - at home, eating, music, surfing the web a bit. Sunday I'm riding to work, semi-rehearsing things to say - "hey, didn't see you at the party" "hey, you like my hot rod?" (with my eyes looking down at my bike) "hey, can I lick those freshly sweaty pits?" But when I get there I don't see the truck anywhere, and I park my bike. As I'm locking up, I see a small white truck about a block away, stopped at the traffic light. As it passes, I see that's it's not our truck, and I sigh, but then laugh at myself. Once I get inside, and start setting things up, I can see the truck is parked across the street - it must've come while I wasn't paying attention. I need to go downstairs anyway to get some supplies, and head down the stairs. Nope. Not to be found. Two guys going up and down the stairs loading stuff into the truck, but not my guy (oops! when did I start calling him that?). Oh well. Another boring day at work, and I begin to do the mechanical stuff to have things ready. A couple hours pass, and I am resigned to not seeing him. Sometime around 2pm, I give in to the urge to have some coffee, and go around to the bar to pour some, and as I'm standing there doing it, I hear a "heya man!" Gosh, I can be so blind. He's sitting there, on the other side of the bar, looking at a menu. The restaurant has huge windows, so behind him is quite a bit of light, framing his swarthy head as I smile and cough out something about him not showing up at the party. He asked how it was, and none of my clever lines came to me about how it would've been better if he were there, or how I got so drunk he coulda... Anyway, we chatted a bit, I couldn't think of any excuse to stay away from my station any longer, so I smiled and returned. After a few minutes of smiling to myself, and hoping like an idiot that he'd come over and talk some more, I poked my head around the corner, but he was gone. No sign of him, no food at the spot where he was sitting, nothing. Sheesh! Maybe he got his food to go again. I walked around, looked for the truck, and the truck was still there. I maneuvered around to see the cab, and he was in the driver's seat (where else? - hehe), and appeared to be talking on a phone. I just sorta watched until my phone rang, and jumped to take a delivery order. Thankfully, a few minutes later, he was back in the restaurant, trying to figure out where his food was. I just leaned against my counter, giving him a mild "hey buddy" smile, which he returned. Then I noticed this puzzled look on his face, and I was continuing to have this come-over-and chat-with-me look, and he walked over, his face fuzzy and scruffy and hairy and lickable, and asked if I knew of any apartments for rent. I mentioned that my landlady seems to be showing apartments lately, but they wouldn't be cheap, and he said was looking for under 700 bucks. I laughed, and so did he, saying "maybe the Bronx, eh?" Then he said - "or do you know of any available room for rent?" "Well, I could always kick my roommate out." His reaction was hard to gauge, but somehow, I was happy that I was being a bit more myself, flirting a bit more directly. We continued talking, his food was ready (which of course I grabbed and packed for him), and I asked "So, what're you doing for Christmas?" At this point, he was behind the counter with me, about a foot away, and he turned and said, "No plans, just probably do some of this somewhere" - as he gestured a whacking off motion with his right fist! OOOh baby! I bite my lip and only laughed, saying nothing aloud, as he passed by me to grab the package, then he turned and said "Hey, what about you?" "Oh, I don't have plans, I usually see the family in Chicago, but thought it best I be smart and not spend the money, so nope, nothing planned." He paused, scrunched up his eyebrows and seemed to be thinking (hence the scrunched brows), then said "hmmm, you working tomorrow?" I told him yes, at 6. "Oh, you work til 6?" No, at 6, I work nights during the week. "Oh, okay buddy, I'll talk to you then." He puts his hand out for his good-talking-to-you-buddy handshake that I've grown so fond of, grabbed his bag of food, and we shook hands, and he left. Oh gosh. Even though I know it's a bad idea to get my head going in that direction, and I know enough to be able to tell it's terribly unlikely that he'll stick around til 6pm tomorrow just to talk, or plan something with some guy he barely knows, I figured, WHAT THE HELL. I am going to enjoy the 24 hours of nervous anticipation and allow my self to imagine the most ridiculous possibilities, give myself over to thinking - he looked just as eager to talk to me today as I did to him, but neither of us knew how to do it, what to say, and that's very cool. It could go nowhere; I might not even get my 5-minute visit again til next Sunday, but for now, I can pretend it's one of those awful Christmas specials on TV where the guy gets the guy for one great day together (oh wait, they don't have TV Specials like that). And talking about it and writing about it certainly will jinx it, but who gives a shit. It's fun; he's just so fuckin' munchable - and honestly, the little tidbits I'm picking up about him just make me more and more curious, wanting to learn more, and hopefully (yes, I'm from the Midwest, I say "hopefully," and I end sentences with prepositions, too; now where the hell was I?) just seeing if a friendship, or hot sex, or ferchristfucking sake, both, happen. Wouldn't that be cool? Saturday, December 21, 2002
 got up a bit early, coffee, some more reading from The Erotic World of Peter de Rome, a quick shower, and now off to work. Still sorting new pics - and swimgear. Friday, December 20, 2002
Do-si-do your partner Doing a few errands today, got some pics I finally developed, a roll that had been in my camera for close to 3 months. Many weeks ago, a gentleman from the west coast asked for a recent face pic, so here's one of the pics I took trying to comply (partnered, 3000 miles away, why do I do these things?). Also, funny enough, in that same roll is actual documentation of when I last had sex here in BJland - 10 weeks and 1 day ago, I asked the man who's balls were in my mouth if he could stand up, lean against the wall, as I pulled open the blinds to get the natural light (I hate using flash) - well, I dropped his balls out of my mouth to make the request, of course, I'm not that talented. Where was I? Oh, he was cool about it, but only let me snap the one pic, so here it is. I think he's the only guy I've actually met on CRUISETOOL, the "partnered" guy who wound up standing me up 2 weeks later (twice!) - but despite all that, I'd probably do him again. Really fun in bed, and he's quite into me bossing him around, or at least that's what he said the other day in an email when I told him he had to make up for standing me up.
my 2 cents....... while I kinda think the democrats might've been better off having Mr Lott in the more visible postion as Senate Majority Leader, if his resigning as Leader means that god-awful nasty man Orrin Hatch will stop whining 24 hours a day, I am happy. (tell me this isn't scarey) Thursday, December 19, 2002
I'm re-reading The Erotic World of Peter de Rome, his fantastic autobiography, and realized I never posted this movie trailer. The film's soundtrack does not use the Pink Floyd music that you will hear here, but I think it gives the approriate feel, nonetheless. This trailer also shows me that my Bijou Video copy of the video is another censored version; this trailer clearly shows that the original film had watersports in one scene, as well as a zucchini and a baseball bat used in another sex scene. Perhaps one of the trippiest films to come from the folks at Hand In Hand (deRome, Jack Deveau, Bob Alvarez), it's about a priest who has doubts about his calling, and takes a sabbatical from his religious duties, plunging himself into a world of gay sex and drugs (mushrooms). Based on a short story by Edgar Allen Poe, I have yet to discover which story it is. I would KILL for an unedited, original copy of this film. Director: Peter de Rome (1976) Wednesday, December 18, 2002
did I mention that after 9 weeks, 5 days and 10 hours, I finally had sex? Good sex, with a handsome fuzzy man in a filthy filthy place. He said he'd like to see me in his bed soon, and gave me his phone number. gulp. haven't been in someone else's bed in god knows how long. I think I remember how, though. Gays Yes, Contras NoI doubt many of you remember that fantastic N Y Daily News headline from back in the spring of 1986. The same day N Y's City Council voted for it's non-discrimintation law, the U S House of Representatives cut off Reagan's funding of the Contras in Nicaragua. Ahhhh, being a lefty back then seemed to mean so much more! N Y State is about to get it's own version of that law, thanks to the Senate here passing SONDA. It's an empty feeling, though, when you think about it. Not just that living in the city we are supposedly already protected, but being the 13th state to finally pass such a measure merely means we can be a bit less embarassed (New Yorkers put down New Jersey all the time, but they had theirs 10 years ago). And leaving out transgendered folks? Maybe it would've been an impossible fight, but my gut tells me - what's the point of legal protections if it doesn't reach people who are most likely to get fucked over?.........and media coverage. Ugh. Yeah, I know you are supposed to have "balance" - so the dutiful New York Times story included the remarks of a few people who happened to have anti-gay signs on the steps of the Captiol, while the CNN story gave just the bare-bones facts. Of course, I also noticed pigeons crapping on the steps of the Captiol during the vote as well, but the Times failed to report that. Tuesday, December 17, 2002
4 of the 5 beers I consumed last night were free, courtesy of the company Holiday Party. (to anyone who got an email, or comment on your webpage between the hours of 3 and 5 am. from me, my apologies -- unless, of course, I was clever and witty) Sometime after 2 a.m. I pushed my way though the crowd, Lady Bunny on stage doing her schtick, me trying to purchase beer #5. A few moments later, as I approached the bathroom, a handsome man I recognized from several encounters in the backroom gave me a big hello-smile, and I smiled back, gentley kissing his ear. Apparently too forward, he was gone when I emerged from the urinals. Another guy was being friendly, but only because he wanted some of the weed that was dangling from my lips. I shared; he stopped dancing around me once I extinguished the joint. The highlight of this part of the night was, as usual, from the loudpeakers - Le Tigre's Hot Topic mixed into Groove Is In The Heart. The latter set me off in a nostalgia for the early 90's late nights at The Bar on 2nd Ave. But some god-awful tune played after that, and I headed out, on the bike, in the cold. Earlier, at the party, one of the shift managers comes over to me - "What the hell's with you? You do like 40 bong hits before getting here?" True, I was pretty much sitting in that same seat all night long, having stuffed my face early, then allowing whoever wanted to to bring me a beer. Eyebrow Man was a no-show, so my lost-puppy face must've been showing, although fortunately for me, no one would know why. I was glad I went, nonetheless, even though it was fairly boring - I just enjoyed people-watching, how the crews from the 3 restaurants stayed in their own corners for the first 2 hours before the music got louder, the lighting a bit dimmer, a few people danced, and some Mexican guys tried to teach me Spanish (and me sounding just like Pee Wee Herman - "Feliz Navi-blah"). As I tried to leave, that same manager (a very nice guy) tried talking me into joining a few of them at some pool hall. I tried to laugh it off, but said I might, and took note of where they were going. After I left The Cock, I did, in fact, go to 4th Ave and 11th St, but the place was closed - haha, just as well, I didn't really need to embarass myself with a cue stick in front of co-workers. I think I am still a tad tipsy here, and I had hoped to get a few errands done today, my day off. Maybe. Monday, December 16, 2002
So, as I approach work, I see the big white truck parked across from the restaurant. As I cross the road, I see Eyebrow Man loading the truck, sleeveless shirt, arms full. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Trying to be nonchalant, I simply pass by, but he calls out "HEY!" -- and we do the good morning thing, he asks about my weekend, we stand out on the sidewalk together for a few moments, then we walk in to the restaurant together. Blah blah, he continues loading, I go to start my work day. A bit later, I am marking up the "specials" on the chalkboard, and hear a gruff "Hey" and it's him, standing behind the counter, and he asks for quarters for parking meters for the week. I count them out, and place them in his thick hand, he thanks me, and says "see you later." Ahhhhhh. Yup, still very handsome, and as he walks out, I watch the back of his nylon running pants slip down, revealing his blue jeans beneath; all that fabric as he's been loading the truck can mean only one thing -- delicious sweaty balls. Sigh. He will no doubt be back later, but I decide not to ask about the Xmas party -- he'll be there or he won't, me asking just feels silly. He may just be a nice, good-looking str8 man, or he might be a nice, good-looking queerboy, but it's work, and I'm not up for complications. A couple hours later, he walks right up to me - "Hey, you going to the Xmas Party tomorrow?" then, "You bringing a guest?" I say yes to the first, no to the second, he seems perplexed and asks Why. "Boring restaurant humor, I wouldn't put anyone through that." The phone rings, a customer ordering delivery, I get a tap on the shoulder as I take the order, he smiles and waves good-bye. Hmmmm. Sunday, December 15, 2002
grrrrrr. barely awake, but gotta run to work. Got one winner so far for the guess-the-pornstars contest below (and yes, Mr Winner, you may pick one of the cockrings from the Dec 11th post and email me your address); but I'll give others a chance to guess and win before posting the answers. So, today, do I act like a teenager and approach Eyebrow Man and ask if he's going to the company Holiday Party tomorrow night? Ugh. In other news, I have at least loosened up enough to talk to men under 30, realizing that some of them are quite fun -- the trick now is to lure one to my home..... hehehe... Saturday, December 14, 2002
Friday, December 13, 2002
help wanted"New York is expensive. I am willing to do almost anything it takes to make this work, accept porn, prostition, or selling drugs." (or spelling properly)
VHS or Beta? - Future of Color well, I tried the cynical, bad mood thing, but a couple of on-line conversations with pals, a friendly pic-exchange with a VERY HOT local bouncer, plus some new, semi-retro dance music forced me to (at least temporarily) snap out of it.
[insert text here] I was gonna describe my night out Wednesday - bumping into a pal, 5 beers, a failed attempt at picking someone up, his pursuit of a 3-way (without ever indicating an interest in sex with me), some weed, 3 great songs at 3:45 that found me smoking that last bit of joint by myself, smiling in the dark, then almost giving my phone number to someone who turned out to be too busy pursuing coke, then slowly walking home, making sure to take the few extra steps to inhale Xmas trees lined up on Ave A - but the shorter version is all I got in me right now. Thursday, December 12, 2002
I just wanna bite yer ass, and shoot a load in yer face. I think of lines like that, but never in time to use them. I had written my name and phone number down, and headed to the bathroom of The Cock to give it to him. I never do that - hand someone my number who hasn't asked for it. Homicide by 999 was playing, but after I found him, I changed my mind, and that slip of paper is still in my pocket. Gotta get some sleep now.. Wednesday, December 11, 2002
Some sort of sadness set in Monday evening, not long after starting work. Vague, but somewhat overpowering, the urge to cry out, or just cry, seeped in. It being a slow night didn't help, and my coworker "correcting" everything I did for the first hour didn't help either (she stopped after my witty, but increasingly sarcastic, remarks helped her realize she was overdoing it -- i.e., "if I had a nickel for everything I've fcked up since I walked in the door..."). And you know how it goes. Once the body tells you to be sad, the brain starts searching for why. The realization that I can't fit an Xmas tree in my tiny overcrowded apartment? No sex in how long? Eyebrow man is straight, but couldn't he have held off letting me know a bit longer? Few friends, who I see rarely. Directionless and inertia, in terms of finances and a more challenging job... "Would you like anything else?" Take the money, they leave, you go back to trying to get more depressed. Thoughts of the last time I had really good sex -- I mean bedsex that included sleeping together, waking up "here's your coffee" sex.... Then I wanted to go out. Drinking, hunting, searching. Of course, bike is broke, it's 20 degrees out, and it's a Monday night. Somehow, all that forced me to think, and thinking made me realize going home after work was best. Sex, if it was possible, wasn't going to do it; and affection was terribly, terribly unlikely. Any Day Now wasn't too sappy, thank god, the guac and chips were good; then Al Parker and Mike Davis helped me get some sleep. Tuesday was a day off -- some walking around the neighborhood searching for a belated birthday gift for my godchild, no luck except seeing that every trendy campy store has the same JESUS figure from Japan. What would Jesus do? (probably get all giddy about his goddamn upcoming birthday, no doubt, what with all the myrrh) I did some cleanup around the house -- ya know, a freshly washed kitchen floor can make you happy for about 2-3 hours! But it's okay, sadness, depression, blues, whatever you call it, it's a process. If you use it properly, you start to go over the stuff you need to go over, figure some stuff out, make a few small decisions to start with, prepare yourself for other, bigger ones (but don't ask, I haven't even begun to let myself think about those). I watched some videotapes I made about 2 years ago -- gosh, I used the Wish You Were Here album for a lot of whacking off clips! Actually, it was kinda cool, I kinda miss that buzzed head of mine - or maybe it just looks good in blue lighting. The thoughts spin around, I realize there are a few things in the short run to do to help. Baking usually helps - it doesn't last long, as there isn't the "yummy" sounds from a boyfriend, coworker, or what have you, but the actual baking is therapeutic, makes me think. And the Bronx Zoo. Less than 3 weeks until my membership runs out, I always have a good time up there, especially during the off periods. And I can get some Xmas gifts for the nieces and nephews. But I miss affection, and sometimes wish I wasn't being so picky about sex these days. But other times I know that bad sex isn't always better than no sex, especially when sex isn't really the point. Contact is. And sex without the wonder and dreaming about who this is in front of me just won't do for now.
I mean, with a name like OnMyKneesInNYC, you'd expect a nice, fuckable mouth, right? (is this no-sex thing getting me cranky?)
Feeling rather blue for the past couple days, but that doesn't stop me from laughing at my fellow AOL'er's pics      I'll try to post, or link to, a few pics that show them "modeled"; but these are the 5 that I have in stock, and willing to sell direct for a short while. - e-mail me for pricing, but basically you're looking at 6-10 bucks each, plus U S PRIORITY mail of $4.50 (more if you go over a pound, but that's unlikely). Tuesday, December 10, 2002
The Mandela SOS concert in South Africa in February looks quite exciting, with the idea of bringing much needed publicity and funds to the fight against AIDS in Africa. A very compelling story about AIDS activist Zackie Achmat, who refuses to take any AIDS medications until the South African government agrees to provide the drugs for free to all citizens there - the amazing thing is that there has been movement towards that goal, the most recent example here. nice packageA very nice guy has sent me another box of goodies - the same guy who sent me a load of swimgear, etc., has just sent me some used, worn underwear. Naw, not exactly what you think, no "customization" other than the perma-bulge he's left from regular usage. Several name brands, stuff that ought to be fun for selling in the winter when I return to NaughtyBids with the stuff I can't sell on eBay. One item kinda surprised me - in my own reaction to it. At first I giggled while sorting through and seeing these teeny tiny shorts, but once I put them on - soft, well-worn cotton - I couldn't take them off! 20 years ago (and 20 pounds lighter) I could've gotten a job as a Fire Island House Boy in these, no shit. For now, they'll just have to do as sleepgear.Speaking of auctions, I'm taking a rest for a few weeks, as I don't really like to do shipping and tracking down bidders as we get close to Xmas. That'll give me a chance to organize some stuff and be ready for selling in January again. I'm always looking for porn donations, of course, just email me if you think you've got something I want. Cockrings. Still have a bunch, any interest in one (or more), e-mail me with questions about prices, pics, etc. - they make great stocking stuffers! I love the 5-snap red leather one, very Xmas-y. (Nice folks get good deals, so don't be shy.) Monday, December 09, 2002
can u say lol?Aaabooo [2:10 PM]: looking? BJland [2:13 PM]: i think we chatted b4 Aaabooo [2:13 PM]: not interested? BJland [2:13 PM]: sorry, not even a hello, i guess not Aaabooo [2:14 PM]: i'm not big on chatting on here .. spending 90 minutes for what would be a 3 minute conversation in person .. prefer to just get to it .. meet if compatible for real live conversation ... lol BJland [2:15 PM]: ok, good luck Aaabooo [2:15 PM]: lol
Do you ever feel sorry for "st8" guys in gay chatrooms? Someone needs to tell him that it's jockstrap OR briefs, not both.
For those of you who aren't big fans of Pat Robertson, this little bit of Amazonbombing is kinda funny. Sunday, December 08, 2002
His goattee is under my balls, he looks up. Eyebrows scrunched a bit, puppy-dog eyes focusing on mine, as if to say "am I doing it right; do you like it?" His tongue continues flicking lightly, I don't say anything, but he hears my confirmation that he's doing just fine. Then I wake up. Sunday morning, got to get to work. Damn. But, Sunday is the day I am most likely to actually see Eyebrow Man, so once I have a bit of coffee in me, I'm perked up and ready to go. Last Sunday, we exchanged big hellos mid-day, then a bit later he ordered some food to go, which I packed for him (actually, when I saw it was ready, I snatched it from the counter, bringing it over to the take-out side so he'd have to come get it). He put out his big thick hand, we shook, and he said something ordinary like "have a good one" (or was that me? who cares, his hand felt good, the gesture even better). That was pretty much it, but enough to get me out of the gloomy mood I was in earlier in the day. So this morning, my bike chain falls off as I'm leaving for work, so I re-lock it in front of the building, and walk the 3 blocks to work. Going through the side door, just inside, Eyebrow Man is standing in the stairwell, and says a big "Good Morning!" - yum! I mean, "good morning, man" as I smile but continue going to put my stuff away. Then I don't see him anywhere, and figure maybe he's already left. While doing some prep work for the shift, I'm sorta in my own world, but look up, into the kitchen, and there he is, about 5 feet from me, with a big bowl of whip cream in his hands, and whip cream on his mustache. I shout out "Boy, wish I had a camera!" - puzzled, but smiling look on his face, he asks why, and I just grab at my own mustache, and he laughs, puts a little more whip cream into whatever he was having (at 11 a.m., I might add) and walks out of the kitchen. Now, I know what you're thinking, but thats honestly not what I was thinking. I was like, "cool, he really enjoys food like I do, how great." A little bit later, only minutes after noticing where his truck was parked, I see that it's gone, and just relax with the silly thoughts of him going through my head, and have a decent day of work. But a couple hours later he's back, talking to the manager about work stuff, and I see he's wearing a sleeveless shirt, exposing his hairy arms, and what might be hairy shoulders! A few minutes later he's over in the take-out side, on the other side of the counter from me, and starts chatting. Something about some mix-up from earlier in the day, I have no idea what he's saying, or why, but he's put his jacket on one of the stools, and is standing just on the other side of the counter, and i can smell him. Light, but good, armpit smell. Mmmmmm. He's talking, a couple of words sound like New Yawk, and I'm just drifitng away, nodding at what I hope are appropriate moments. As the story finishes, I ask if he wants food (often workers get their meals ordered from the "to go" side), but he says he already ordered. Then he asks "Hey, you ever go to Hogs and Heffers?" Um, could you name a scarier straight bar in NYC? I think. But I say something like, "um, no - isn't that on West 13th?" "Really, you never been? it's great - there's a few places over there I like" and he starts naming non-gay bars that I've never heard of. Then he mentions the Hell's Angels, he's heard they have a bar near here, and I am clueless what this guy is trying to tell me. Who knows? He's a truck driver who hangs out in biker bars. He's also the hottest man I've seen in months. Is it straight? Is he queer but, um, likes all that straight shit? Sigh.
More from the New York Times on the Texas Sodomy case - not a terribly great op-ed piece, but it's something. Meanwhile, it's a real shame that Gay City News here in NYC doesn't update their webpage fast enough, as their Dec 6-12 issue has some EXCELLENT coverage on the case. Probably the only writer in the newspaper that I read thoroughly each week (and I mean everything he writes, to the end of each article), Arthur Leonard (author of Sexuality and the Law), has a very thorough article, well-written, easy to understand but very detailed, on the case, analyzing it's prospects, it's history, etc. So those of you in town, snatch a copy of the paper; the rest of you, just check back on the website from time to time. Saturday, December 07, 2002
figured I'd take a break from Lifetime Movies - so ran out to the store to get microwave popcorn and ice cream.... it's really scarey in this neighborhood on Saturday nights, drunks, cars looking for parking, grrrrr - so now I'm back, Lifetime is still on the tube, and Paula Abdul is about to get assaulted - hmmmm. Who you calling a Ho?Subj: Interview request Date: 12/3/02 9:17:22 AM Eastern Standard Time From: Rachel_______@_______.edu (Rachel ______) To: bjland7820@aol.com
(if i had a nickel for everytime she said "sex-trade"...)
Friday, December 06, 2002
I may have shown the official movie trailer for this one a few weeks or months back, but since then, because of a very generous donation of porno videos, I acquired the full movie on an early 80's vidoecassette issued by Quality X Video (apparently they put out a lot of 70's pornos, gay and straight, during that time - if you have any, hang on to them, or send them to me!) Where was I? Oh yeah, so this is classic Hand In Hand stuff - a couple is sharing a house on Fire Island, jealousies erupt, etc. The tale is told from 3 different perspectives, each of the lover's, as well as fellow house guest Garry Hunt (who I love! - he must've been a blast to work with.... oops, digressing again) Anyway, Garry finds himself sketching variations of the same guy over and over again, until one day he returns to his room and finds a huge life-size poster of the guy, Matt Harper (who you know as Will Seagers from L.A. Tool and Die, etc.). The sequence itself is over 10 minutes, and has some fantastic shots of Harper whacking off in the "forests" of Fire Island, but I couldn't upload such a huge file. I love this shorter part of it, as it's the LSD sequence, has a great disco soundtrack, complete with eerie/trippy filtering, and the editing is top notch. One more thing, I realized that when you open the page with the clip, you can "right click" on the movie itself and select "full screen" - it's a teeny bit distorted, but I think the clip works much better on the full scren.     "As I sat by the pool, Terry decided to break the monotony of the day by adding something interesting to the pitcher of iced tea he was making - namely, two hits of microdot acid." Director: Jack Deveau (1979)
I know, I know - stupid search engine referrals are, well, stoopid (and probably mean that clip you promised earlier isn't ready yet), but you're looking for "quality apartment wmv" and click on BJ's GAY PORNO-CRAZED RAMBLINGS?
here i am, multi-tasking (ewww!) - brushing my teeth, combing my hair (beard), editing/uploading porno clip, and looking for love in all the wrong places - so I had to share this AOL profile:
Can we all say EWWWWWWWWWWWW! together?
ok. if you haven't looked at the clips below, do it now! - they're coming down. I'm working on a clip from Jack Deveau's Fire Island Fever for posting later this afternoon - a cool, trippy sequence with Garry Hunt and Matt Harper (aka Will Seagers). Thursday, December 05, 2002
And the weather! I had to walk blocks! Past supers shoveling snow, through streets covered in greyish icy slush, my vision impaired by the frosty water gathering on my lenses, but finally I found the right spot to do it. A few quick seconds later, I got up, and noticed a woman about 20 feet away giggling at me. She extended her arm down to her son, helping him get up - he was also making angels in the snow.
Actually, it was reading former President Clinton's AIDS Is Not a Death Sentence in the New York Times that got me angry. What's missing from his piece is something, anything that can help current political leaders avoid the mistakes he made - namely, the political will to ACT on what he advocates in his article - look at this 1998 article regarding Needle Exchange. Apparently, and I can't find it anywhere - he has since leaving office said that not funding needle exchange programs was a mistake - sorry, not good enough. He's not a stupid man, he's an excellent strategist (ok, maybe thats not a word, but you know what I mean) - so how do you get politicians to do what's right, despite the immediate political costs - the costs he was not willing to take?
Where was I? Of the three scenes from this flick, this one was the best; besides Ryder's beautiful body, his "master" seemed genuinely turned on by him. While I could imagine a lot more going on in this scene (we never get to see Ryder's ass, which of course my buttbrush would definately hone in on...), I have to admit the clothespins on that delicious cock really grab me. For those of you who begged for it, here ya go.   Director: Bob Jones (1998) - Starring: Master Chad Maxwell, Jason Ryder, Swanson, and Jared Mason
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
The clip below is one of the ones that had me squealing (with laughter) late last night. The shag carpeting, the bad hair, the huge dicks and hairy balls - but the best part is the amazing voice-over! Man, I dare you to play the clip with the window minimized, but the volume on loud - you WILL feel dirty afterwards. Not naughty, but dirty - like man in trenchcoat at the Long Island Railroad station Men's Room dirty.    "Coming soon ta dis theater. Hot. Good. Fast Action. All the way." Stars Tracy White and Russ Morgan (and others); from PM Productions. 
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
The Texas "Homosexual Conduct" law will be challenged in the U.S. Supreme Court this spring - promising to be the case to watch next year. Far more interesting and important then the much talked about failure to overturn the Louisiana sodomy law last month, as the Louisiana case attempted to overturn a sodomy law that applied to all folks in that state, while the Texas law applies only to homosexual activity, and that key distinction may well finally force the Supreme Court to deal with it's two seemingly incompatible decisions regarding gays - the Hardwick decision of 1986, and the "Romer" decision. While the fact that this case is similar to Hardwick in that it's about sex (and states are given great leeway in terms of regulating, but I won't go into all that, ZZZzzzz.... - but Griswold, etc., began the whittling away of all that and the notion of a right to privacy...), and could make it difficult, the "good" news is that it only goes after queers - in other words, it's ok for someone of the opposite sex to give you a blowjob in Texas, but not someone of the same sex - and the Romer decision demonstrated that the court doesn't care for that sort of unfairness - basically targeting one group for different treatment. The reason this law has a good chance of being overturned is that it's aimed at a specific group, and it's unfairness is rather clear. But, even then, it could still mean that those states that outlaw sodomy for everyone may still have those laws standing.
(ok, its 3 a.m. and I ain't as clear as I'd like to be, but this is a BIG deal).
Monday, December 02, 2002
Funny, my World Aids Day post didn't quite go in the direction I had planned. I guess conflicting emotions sometimes mean you start off in one direction, and wind up somewhere else (not too mention spending a lot of time working on images and links, thinking the text would be the easiest part, and finishing that up at 3:30 a.m.). I had used a lot of imagery from the RED HOT Organization, because it is one that I admire. Of course there are hundreds of worth-while groups involved in the fight against AIDS/HIV, but this one seems to be able to touch me more than others. The idea of a sustained cultural attack on this, that we need to be in the fight for the long haul, that caring for each other in a sex-positive manner had to be an integral part of really affecting the lives of millions of people - this appealed to me. It wasn't merely a way to raise a few bucks (although it has done that), but a way of reaching affected communities, of bringing different people together and use the power of music to bridge gaps - combining education, fund-raising, and entertainment - Country, dance, alternative, jazz and hip hop to name a few. Sometimes my mind gets bogged down with the losses, and I tend to lose sight of those friends who, thank God, are still here, and are doing well. I can't make that happen for those who are gone, but I sure want that for everyone, and we just have to find ways to keep that goal alive, and figure out the ways we can work towards it, in a sustained, caring manner. Last night went to a RED HOT event, for the RED HOT + RIOT album. You might expect some fancy Manhattan party, and while the club itself was, the beauty of the event was that it was very grass-roots; a table selling raffle tickets, my pal Jeff selling the FELA CD and vinyl, someone else selling hand-made jewelry - all benefitting CRH in Nigeria and AID FOR AIDS. We saw Red Hot + Riot: Encounters with AIDS in Africa about the AIDS pandemic in Africa, with a special focus on the life of singer/activist Fela Kuti (will also be shown Dec 3rd at GMHC), and a healthcare worker from Nigeria, studying here in the States, spoke about her work, and what she hoped to accomplish with her degree when she returned to Nigeria. They do tons of events like this, all over the world. I felt very proud of my pal Jeff for all his continued hard work with RED HOT. Sunday, December 01, 2002
       
The album had come out a few months earlier, I think, but this was national television, and we were anxious to see what the artists would do visually, and what sort of safe sex and AIDS awareness messages would finally be broadcast to a mass audience. Neneh Cherry's I've Got You Under My Skin was visually amazing, the stark blue/black lighting, the thumpthump pulsing of the bass (but we did giggle at the dancer in his skintight latex outfit and his fringed mask). Iggy Pop and Debbie Harry's Well Did You Evah was fun, K.D. Lang's So In Love was stunning. Simple, as she dutifully washed/sterilized someone's clothes, but as she hung up a woman's slip on a hanger to dry, and ever-so-briefly carressed it, we all turned to each other with our jaws dropped - one or two years before her "official" coming out! Memories of each video, or Richard Gere giving brief, digestable facts are kinda vague 12 years later, but it's still difficult to watch the Erasure video. We were all pleasantly surprised to see this light-hearted song, Too Darn Hot, use footage from several ACT UP demonstrations, with faces we knew being dragged off by police, big banners with redpaint (blood) splattered; but still, the emotions are still churned up knowing how many of thse folks aren't here today. And of course none of us could help crying during Annie Lennox's Ev'rytime We Say Goodbye. But when it was over, there was this quiet empty feeling. Yes, it was good, yes it was long overdue. But would it help? Would friends regain their health? Would the bigotry and misinformation end? Somehow I managed a few years of screaming at buildings, and learning chants, and risking arrests at demonstrations, some volunteering thrown in, but by the end of 1994, whatever advances that might have been going on didn't seem to affect the people closest to me. Dave died in November. The first few months of 1995 involved a very close friend getting sick, his friends struggling like little children, clueless how to help, he couldn't handle it anymore, Rick died. I don't have a "keep trying" message, words of wisdom or "play safe" slogans. Writing this just reminds me how angry, sad and bitter I am.
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