bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings
Sunday, August 31, 2003
Saturday, August 30, 2003
Friday, August 29, 2003
Thursday, August 28, 2003
remain in the closet -- it is safer and life is much more easy
Date: 8/28/03 10:49:37 AM Eastern Daylight Time
I read your blog from time to time and was struck by today's memory of your high school days. I am not a supporter of the Harvey Milk school but then I am unalterably opposed to the situations you described. My girlfriend in high school had a twin brother who closely resembled the "John" you described. Jerry was blonde, willowy, very effiminate, and was taunted every day. There was no doubt he was gay (I slept over one night and can attest to that) but his life in high school had to have been horrible. Because of his sister I was thrown into contact with him and consequently I got my share of taunts as well. To this day I am ashamed that I avoided him and never stood up for him. I guess i was too intimidated and cowardly. I have spent the last several years trying to locate him but to no avail. I track all of the high school alumni stuff hoping he will register (and why would he want to do that?) but no luck.
Your journal reminds me of the price gay guys pay for being who they are and announcing it to the world. There is no wonder so many guys remain in the closet -- it is safer and life is much more easy. I can tell from you description that the pain is still there -- my is less but I certainly understand yours. I wish you well."
Hmmmm. I have about a zillion reactions to this email, but not really about the unexplained oppostition to the Harvey Milk School (i am very very cynical about straight people 'getting it'). Of course, there's nothing in his email to indicate that 'jerry' was out of the closet (we only know he's gay by the overnight incident), but his high school life doesn't seem to have been 'safe and easy'. Of course, there is no clear indication that this writer recommends staying in the closet, just his seemingly unexamined conclusion that it is safer and easier. I wish I had the energy to enlighten him. But it merely reminds me why I am resigned to just not giving a damn what most straight people think - I've been dealing with this every day for most of my 42 years, and I'm fucking tired of trying to explain it to them. Let them do some of the work, use their brains, read some books, have conversation with real live gay people (not me) who are interested in explaining the 'closet' - - maybe read some other gay bloggers who tackle these issues better than I can or care to - one of my current favorites who seems to be on an amazing streak of good, thoughtful writing is John Kusch.
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
I actually started thinking a lot about my high school days during the first bits of current "controversey" over the Harvey Milk School's expansion this fall when that postcard arrived. No, I don't have horrible stories about constant harrassment from fellow students (but you can imagine in an all-male high school); yes, harrassment took place, and yes, I managed to survive it. And no, the Harvey Milk School wouldn't have been a good alternative for me. But then I remember John.
See, back then, I would get only the occasional taunts - the name-calling, the teasing. I remember one horrible day just after Christmas. My parents had bought me a leather/vinyl shoulder bag for my books - very 70's, very nice. But the day I brought it to school, the taunting began immediately. Guys grabbed it, put in over their shoulder and "minced" around, lisping words pretending to immitate me. They passed the bag around, wouldn't let me have it back. I tried to ignore them, and eventually got it back. But the day continued like that, name-calling, joking, tugging at the bag, laughing at my expense. When I got home, I walked straight down to the basement, put it on a shelf with all the abandoned toys and games of childhood, and left it there, never touching it again. Oddly, my parents never asked about it (it wasn't cheap, and we didn't have much money), and of course I never mentioned that horrible day to them, I was ashamed. Maybe they knew, and didn't know what to say or do.
But John. He was the "obvious" one. He had the pronounced lisp, limp-wrists, effeminate manner. He got it every day, all day. I don't know the real extent to what happened to him, I kept my distance. And it makes me feel very sad, and ashamed. Not once did I ever consider befriending him, and not 'til my senior year did I ever raise my voice to defend him, or tell the other guys to knock it off (By then I was into drugs, so that "coolness" aspect trumped my suspected homosexuality.) I remember once, sitting in the assistant principle's office, trying to get a class changed, and John was in the waiting room; our eyes met, a moment of sadness from him, then a determined resolve toughened him up, and he looked away. The assistant principle looked in John's direction, breathed a heavy sigh, and mumbled something like "not him again, won't he ever learn?" I said nothing, but was deeply disappointed in this 'educator'. John never got into trouble, he was no doubt there to complain about whatever latest incident happened to him.
Then I went to my next class, attendance was called, and when John's name came up, some tittering from the students, and I said "Oh, he's in with the assistant principle." The art teacher, who we all assumed was gay, then said "Jeez! What's wrong with him, he brings it on himself, he just needs to stop acting that way." You have no idea how clearly that is set in my memory, 25 years later, as vivid as if it happened yesterday. No, I didn't say anything, but I felt even sadder, more disappointment with the adults, and much, much more isolated. And I must say, I must've secretly been feeling "thank god John's here, otherwise it would be me."
I wonder how many gay folks who argue against the Harvey Milks School's "segregation" - you know, the ones who say, I survived High School, it's better to learn how to deal with it than be isolated and coddled, just can't get beyond their own experiences. My experience as a gay teenager is not every gay teen's experience. Some are in horrible circumstances that deserve immediate attention. A very good, well thought out article on the issue - Michael Bronski's Rethinking the Harvey Milk School - is definately worth a look; he actually articulates the rationale for the school better than most advocates (even though he opposes it), but concludes that it is the wrong answer. (also see A Safe Haven Finds Itself Under Siege in the NY times.) But I felt the same as James Wagner after reading it - in the real world, right now, these kids need this school. I think one very important point Bronski makes is that with the school, there is the very likely risk that we'll feel we've done enough, that by making the effort to protect the very worst-off kids, we ignore the systemic problems of homophobia in our schools. I don't know if John would've wanted to go there, anyway. But I do know it's still horribly tough in school for a lot of gay kids, and until that changes, at the very least it's good for kids to know there is a safe place, and that there are educators who are interested in their well-being and education.
Date: 8/27/03 7:20:41 AM Eastern Daylight Time
where can i buy Spokes, video pack number 33? send me a site where i can see these cocks for free
um, sure bud. I'll email porno info to a Catholic high school email address. I'll get right on that. (not to mention he didn't even have the courtesy to say the obligatory 'great site, keep it up' bit.)
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
Who you calling a shmomo?
don't ya love it when politics hits eBay?
Monday, August 25, 2003
Arriving in 10 days, he claims to be coming to see Broadway shows, but I hear he's packed nothing but jockstraps in his luggage. Another visitor arrives from Amsterdam this week - god knows how his suitcase will get past customs. ("Yes officer, it's a chair. A 16 inch tall cylindrical rubber chair. Very 'in' in Europe.")
No, I'm not awake yet, but here's a go at the weekend review: Bjork, Sigur Ros, attempt at sex, work, Wigstock, work, mediocre sex, food in bed, Monday morning coffee.
Sunday, August 24, 2003
Saturday, August 23, 2003
Did I mention that CrazyFrenchMan sent me a facepic the other day? He sounds good, and should be returning to NYC mid-September. He even said he missed me! (Awwwww) I've actually got a much larger version of this pic set as my wallpaper (but no, I don't kiss the screen several times a day; really, I don't.)
Friday, August 22, 2003
I hadn't noticed the back of the book when I bought it. But last night, relaxing in bed and looking over some of the more interesting purchases of the day (Thursday has become book-buying day), and actually holding and stroking the slim volumes that I had bought, I flipped over the one hardbcover, and saw this. How amazingly wonderful, and how concisely it speaks of my own feelings. Of course I had to "google" it, and found a few references (I'm sure a few of you more literate(?)/literary-minded(?) folks out there already recognize the quote, or perhaps the cool illustration. So this one goes into the "keeper" pile. Another interesting purchase - for entirely different reasons - was a Lancer Books (I wonder if porn director Tom DeSimone got his pseudonym, Lancer Brooks, from that?) 1967 publication, The Man From Pansy. It's supposed to be a a spoof of The Man from U.N.C.L.E., with a hero named Buzz Cardigan, a "limp-wristed spy." Even the edges of the paper are lavendar! Then there's Confessions of a MALE PROSTITUTE from 1964, which unfortunately the pages began to come apart form its binding as I held the book. From the back cover: "From the very beginning, Charles had the two necessary attributes that led him into male prostitution - good looks and an extraordinary physical endowment." The book also includes "acute psychological evaluations by Dr. Leonard Lowag" (what a name!) And I was lucky to nab another armful of 1970's era pure sex paperbacks, some with great cover art. Finally, some cool books from John Preston - these from his Alex Kane series. I have not read any of them, but they sound cool. Alex Kane was a macho ex-Marine superhero who came to the rescue of oppressed gay men, but who was also considerate to the emotional needs of his sexual partners. The most interesting part, for me, is that these later editions, from 92/93, actually added more explicit sex than the earlier 80's first printings had.
directed by: Josh Elliot (2000)
Starring: (this scene) Ray Harley and Steve Hurley (aka Titpig); rest of cast: Buster, Mark Rockwell, Justin Wood, Tuck Johnson, Marc West, and Tony Giovanni
Ahhhh, Ray Harley - fireman's mustache, fuzzy butt, and man can he shoot a nice load! I don't usually post these newer video clips, but I love this scene with Harley as "oral top", and Steve "Titpig" Hurley kneeling down in front of him, slurping away, and taking it, literally, on the chin. Hate to sell this one, but, ya know, just no room!
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Cup of coffee #3-1/2 (reheated microwave mix) - scanning magazines, falling in love with "Adam" from Manscapes2, Winter '87 issue, blasting the stereo (Bjork, or course!)
Cup of coffee #3 - trying hard to not mention the slurpalicious beard pic on his page, but say something about the writing instead. But I've got the caffeine shakes, and need to forage for food.
Cup of coffee #2 - shopping on eBay - "Steve's quest for the ideal oral lover ended when he found that his own daughter had... The DEEPER THROAT."
Cup of coffee #1. Discovering new (to me) bearwebsite - bear world wide woof.
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
wrong turn at the bathroomI wake up suddenly around 5 a.m., something in the dark. Oh, it's the naked man lying next to me. What naked man lying next to me? I went to sleep alone, and there's a body sprawled out on the bed, stomach down, against the wall. My heart is beating fast, "Who the hell are you?" I ask as he gets up, showing several tattos on his smooth, tan body. "Alex?" is all he says, looking at me inquisitively, then lying back down with a sort of hurt look on his face. "Excuuuuuse me, who the hell are you?" He gets up again, looks right in my eyes, and says "Oh shit! I'm sorry, Oh Fuck! I'm sorry!" gets up, walks out of the room, and returns to my roommate's room.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
Somebody made me a delicious iced cafe con leche last night at work, so of course I couldn't get any real sleep til after 7am this morning. Construction down the block woke me up at 10:30, and now I am struggling to do laundry, post some auctions (even on NaughtyBids), ready some packages for shipping, and I just took a quick peak at my 2000 video BJ Does It Again (no, I don't whack off ot my own videos, it's for a freind, long story)and it made me laugh to hear the Donna Summer song and "strobe effect" I used for a brief few seconds wearong leather pants (well, some of me was poking out, but you'd have to see the video to see that). How's that for a run-on sentence?
Did I mention I am selling some str8 porno? Titles like Surrogate Wife, Wanda's Whip, etc. Man! Some of this shit is sick sick sick! Here's a sample:
"Angelique was not a naive young girl coming to New York like so many others. Angeligue had a past. She knew how to use it. She could use the experiences that she had had. She wanted to make it pay. Angeligue had been f*cked at the age of ten by her father, not a month after her mother had died. Not that it had gotten into her small... "
Oh no!! and that was just on page 1!! It's this book from 1969, written by Liza Darling; you don't suppose it's.... naw. I dunno, maybe I should keep it. Oops, time to check the dryer.
Monday, August 18, 2003
Catholic Church Ordered To Pay For Gay Wedding - too good to be true? Why, yes! Another sloppy job from 365gay.com. The church is actually being ordered to return to the gay couple the money the couple gave to the church to hold their wedding reception at the church hall. When the church realized the reception was for two men, it wouldn't allow the reception to be held, but tried to keep the money anyway!
Sunday, August 17, 2003
I just saw the saddest thing. One of those yellow 'caution' tapes, stretched several yards wide, blocking the entire ice cream section at the Key Food. When will the post-blackout horrors end?
Saturday, August 16, 2003
The city was officially back at 100% power last night at 9:03pm. My neighborhood got electricity at 9pm. Sheesh! God knows what work will be like today, as the restaurant is in the same neighborhood, and I don't have any idea if they'd be in any position to actually open to the public. Was certainly an odd 29 hours.
Thursday afternoon, like many others, when the power went out, I thought it was just me, then I thought it was just my building. Not til I got outside, and heard some loud popping noises, and smoke rising from the stacks at the power station over on 14th st, did I realize it was much bigger. And it took a long distance phone call to my Mom to actually hear how extensive the outage was. Leaving the building a bit later, I ran into TABBOO! (um, how embarrassing i can't remember his 'real' name, as he wasn't actually TABBOO! when I saw him) - standing at the building's entrance, reciting the names of all the states and cities without power; then he jumped into the street, helping the kids play in the fire hydrant's powerful rush of water out into the street. By about 6pm, in Tompkins Square Park, I ran into the man who fled to Maine last week; turns out he suddenly got the urge to return to Manhattan Wednesday night. We wound up spending the night together, part of it here, and part of it over at his place. The best part was sitting up on his roof, away from the noise (yes, the city was kinda noisey, everyone sorta in a celebratory mood, drinking, hooting and hollering, and car radios playing music), and enjoying the darkended skyline, and the bright moon shining down.
Friday, August 15, 2003
Thursday, August 14, 2003
I am soooooo looking forward to reading Gay Vigilante! This paperback is 31 years old, and somehow I managed to find 2 copies (and so some luck eBayer can get one of them, click pic-link to see the auction)! Right now I am thoroughly enjoying Song Of The Loon - another Greenleaf Classic (one of the better-known publishers of gay pulp fiction - and plenty of non-gay, too) - this one from 1966. I hadn't expected it to be so sexually explicit (but 1966 is when the adult novel more or less exploded with more genitally-specific descriptions of sex), but better yet, it's a rather interesting exploration of "free-love", partnership between men, and perhaps the more fun part - the uptight white men (and some Indians) who can't come to terms with their own love of other men.
"Ah, Ephraim," Cyrus breathed. "I know how you think, for I am a white man too. But in the Loon Society it is not that way; who am I to say that Singing Heron shouldn't love whomever he pleases? I am not his master; nor is he mine; love is equality, not slavery."
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
I hate lube. Some innocent (as far as I know) man grabbed my cock the other night with a glob of lube on his fist, and I just squealed loudly like the girly-man that I am. He jumped back about 3 feet, and I ran into the bathroom to wash the foreign material off my body. Yuck. I mean, I realize that for some of you folks who do the fucking-thing, it's necessary; but why use it for jacking off? And worse, doesn't having the darn stuff on your cock preclude getting blown? Or is the stuff edible? I guess I just prefer old-fashioned spit. It must be something from my teen years, but spit works - and lube on my cock is probably the fastest way for me to lose a hard-on. And going down on someone who's been stroking with lube - egad! what a nasty mouthful! I think I'm getting all cranky sitting here in my boxers and trying to save money with the air-conditioning off. Time to get out of the house.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
in dating news.....No, I'm not dating anyone. Dating is just for losers, anyway. Guys who can't find their way around a backroom with broken glasses, or who need to know the last name of the guy lying next to them in bed. I learned my lesson with the French guy - 2 dates and he flees the country! But a guy did leave me his phone number the other night. I had peddled up to The Eagle Wendesday night for PORK, and saw some handsomish man looking in my direction. But there was this other guy in between the two of us, and that guy was looking at the other guy, so I couldn't really tell if I was getting cruised, or if these two were making nice-eyes and I couldn't tell from my side of the dark dingy room. Eventually the guy in the middle gave up, and the original guy sorta was staring into space, so I bolted, roaming around the increasingly sparcely populated bar. But later, as I was slowly maneuvering around the handful of couples making out downstairs (beer does that to men), the guy flashed a big ol' grin that I couldn't misinterpret, so I said "hey". Blah blah blah, he suggested we go to my place; I explained I was on the bike, and lived on the Lower East Side. But he was up for taking a cab and meeting me. We walked a few blocks, then he hopped in a cab, but not before one nice kiss, and I sped off. When I finally got to my block, there he was, having gotten out of his cab only a few seconds earlier.
So, as the sun seemed to be rising a few hours later, and this man is jabbing at me "I gotta go, can I leave my number" I mumbled and pointed, and he scribbled something, kissed me, and I heard the door close. I managed to find the number later, but thought I should give it a few days. I finally called yesterday, no answer, but I left an approrpiate message - "can't wait to see your cock in my face again" - just kidding. Actually, I don't think I saw his cock near my face that night, but I digress. When I got home last night, there was a message. Press play, and "hey, great to get your message, but I'm out of town right now, in Maine." At first I thought - aww, how sweet, he called right away - then I'm like - what's with all these guys meeting me then leaving town?
Summer Of Love
Thanks to the reminder from Bloggy and Mr Wagner, I dug out this flyer TABBOO! handed me the other day. He was going downstairs, me going upstairs, when he asked my opinion about which flyer looked better - I picked this one, as it was more colorful and easy to read (and no, I didn't notice that "legendary" is spelled wrong, nor would I have mentioned it if I had), he handed it to me to keep, but when I asked WHEN he'd be performing, it was a vague, "Saturday afternoon, um, sometime." I said I worked 'til 5pm, and he said, "oh, it could be later, who knows?" But having WIGSTOCK back home in Tompkins Square Park is a wonderful dream come true. But I totally can't beleive they can have the whole thing in only 2 hours - but we'll see, won't we? WOO-HOO!
I'm in love with love, love, love
For everyone transcends here
I'm thinking of you boy
Love energy is giving us a shove
Making this the summer of love
Monday, August 11, 2003
inappropriate touchingI'm sure many of you have followed at least bits of the "gay bishop" story. I came home last Monday night, waited for the 1a.m. rerun version of CNN's NewsNight with Aaron Brown, and turned it on to get the headline story: Episcopalians Delay Vote On Gay Bishop Candidate (ok, enuf links to CNN). Then the double whammy accusations - "inappropriate touching" and "internet porn". Well, the porn link thing was fairly obvious that it wouldn't amount to much (anyone who has spent more than 1 hour in his life websurfing knows you can get from practically any site to internet porn in about 3 clicks, and they said as much on the news broadcast), but the "touching" one concerned me, especially when they spelled out the details, as they were, that night.
I listened, and read the TV screen, the vague allegation: "When I first encountered Gene (Robinson the soon-to-be-Bishop) at a ... convocation a couple of years ago he put his hands on me inappropriately every time I engaged him in conversation. NO GAY MAN HAS EVER BEHAVED TOWARDS ME THIS WAY -- and I have had over 25 years of associations with gay male colleagues in the Boston, New York, Los Angeles, and San Diego show business communities." At first, the vagueness of "inappropriate" struck me - it's a conclusion without "facts" (he didn't say how or where he was touched, only that it was inappropriate). But the phrase in CAPS gave him away - NO GAY MAN HAS EVER BEHAVED TOWARDS ME THIS WAY - "Ahhh" I thought, it wasn't the touching per se, but the sexual orientation of the toucher that was offensive, and somehow deemed "harrassment" - ("Well, I am a straight man reporting homosexual harassment by a gay male priest from another diocese." his email went on to say)
Of course, later (the next day) we learned that the touching was a hand on the arm, and a hand on the back, twice in the course of one day, in public, while they were talking about a question the accuser had of Robinson. The church investigated, got clarification, the accuser said he regretted using the term "harrasment" and didn't want to pursue the matter further, and the investigators cleared Robinson, and later that day, as we all now know, Robinson was elected Bishop.
But the accusation still haunts me, disturbs me, and even saddens me. We can sort of laugh or titter at the man for going overboard, but I think it is an accurate reflection of what many str8 folks feel, and fear. And I also think we gay folks often act/react, consciously or not, on that level - that touching from us can be construed as sexual, and ought to be avoided. How many gay folks are extra careful in work situations, especially those dealing with children, or others in a caregiver situation. And how many gay folks are afraid to be "out" at work, for fear that any signs of affection, or physical camaraderie will and can be misconstrued? And I also wonder how many gay folks have avoided careers and jobs as caregivers, teachers, etc., for fear of having their sexual orientation hanging over their heads, casting a shadow on everything that is said and done. It's truly a shame, that these fears play out in a way that lessens affection, when the world, our lives, could truly use more of it - hugging, hand-holding, consoling, whatever. Our hang-ups about sex, and homosexuality cause such great damage when we allow them to stifle our natural, good urges to touch each other, to share in a physical way our feelings with and towards each other.
Sunday, August 10, 2003
He walks in, comes to the counter and orders. It's the usual, I ring it up, take his money, and smile to myself. I want to say "Man, your abs really looked great in that sling the other night!" but I don't. I doubt he saw me there, he was lying back in the sling, poppers in his nose, as another man, slim and tight-muscled as well, fucked him. But it's usually the fucker, not the fuckee, who's abs are so noticeable, as he's standing, and they flex and move with the in and the out. But his looked fantastic, and that's why I wanted to say something. But I don't usually initiate conversation with customers at work, and certainly not that kind - seems somehow against the "counter-boy code," ya know, mixing outside sexadventures with serving hungry men.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Friday, August 08, 2003
What every muscle queen needs - camoflauge spandex.
How odd that wicker cock ring only yields one result.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Yes, sometimes I eBay non-porno stuff:
Meanwhile, I do have some adult paperbacks
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
OK, so this isn't the clip I planned, but it's just as well. That one from Harley's Angels was just too long and slow (which could be ok if describing something else). This is from one of my favorite film studios, Nova Films. While I usually go for the classic, story-oriented films, NOVA is best known for their "loops" (8mm films, usually 10-15 minutes in length), with no dialogue and the barest of story-lines (i.e. Man sees man naked through binoculars, then sees another man join naked man, then he joins the couple). Most importanly is the cum-shot - more often than not it's on the face, and usually each model has two or even three (!) in a single scene. For Main Attraction, we've even got disco music, product placement, and 70's fashions. What more can you ask for?
Starring: Bo Richards and Jeffrey Scott (The Main Attraction); Giorgio Canali (aka Georgio Canalii, Rocco Rizzoli) and Bill Curry (It's The Life); Jon King, Buddy Preston, and hairy Brad Peters (Neighborhood Watch).
The Gay Bishop story has intrigued, and impressed me more than I would have thought. I'm still mulling over it's significance, but I think it's another great step forward for the gays - more serious reflection required from me before going into it, but I must say, although I know words often have multiple meanings, seeing this headline this morning made me titter -- Primate's regret over gay bishop.
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
OK, gotta run to work, but here's a peak at what clip I'll be posting late tonight (well, in the unlikely event that I have something better to do after work, maybe not til Wednesday proper).
In other news coverage, their piece on the controversy surrounding the Harvey Milk School is good, and I highly recommend James Wagner's post on the topic - both are essential reading, especially for those of you who only read the "yahoo" and AP versions of the story, and jumped on the stoopid (ok, maybe just uninformed) don't segregate gay kids bandwagon (c'mon, kids, do the math - 400,000 kids in NYC's public high schools, you think only 170 are gay? - and only 100 students will attend this fall.) And while you're at it, read up on the Hetrick-Martin Institute, and the hard work they've been doing for 20 years.
Monday, August 04, 2003
Nobody seems to like the porno clips, so I'm switching to Westerns. The sound quality on this is low, so you may need to turn it up. But not to worry, absolutely NO sex, NO nudity, and just a bit of adult language. Those of you over 40 might be able to identify the film this clip is from (look closely at the horse-drawn carriage).
Sunday, August 03, 2003
I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true.
Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea.
On gods or fools the high risk falls---on you---
The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me.
Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist.
Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell.
But---there are wanderers in the middle mist,
Who cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tell
Whether they love at all, or, loving, whom:
An old song's lady, a fool in fancy dress,
Or phantoms, or their own face in the gloom;
For love of Love, or from heart's loneliness.
Pleasure's not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh,
And do not love at all. Of these am I.
Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)
No, this isn't Jonno's Dead Hunk Du Jour. But it is indicative of lonely man feeling sorry for himself on a Saturday night in the Big City. No, I don't see myself in that sonnet, and I pretty much absolutely loathe poetry of any kind, but I just happened to stumble upon it in one of those late night doing one thing and searching on the internet and finding other stuff kinda nights. And actually, as beautifully sad as the sentiment is, finding it, and feeling it's beauty, really cheered me up.
See, I was actually sorting paperbacks, scanning some for auction, and doing some research on the older ones (the pre-1970 ones are my faves - less explicit sex, more cool plotlines and snazzy lingo, etc.) and I realized I had one that was originally published in 1945 (this paperback edition wasn't, but with a 60 cent coverprice, I figured it had to be printed in the 50's)
MARY RENAULT tells a provocative story of modern life as she probes the delicate relationship between two attractive women in THE MIDDLE MIST
So after several Google searches, I learn that the author of this book is actually best known for a series of historical ancient Greece novels, so I continue searching, trying to figure out where this little lesbian themed book comes in. Well, duh! She's one! How cool, and then I find that the book has just been reprinted, but in the 80's was re-named The Friendly Young Ladies. How odd. Then I started reading the description on Amazon, "Set in 1937, The Friendly Young Ladies is a romantic comedy of off-Bloomsbury bohemia (what the hell does that mean?). Sheltered, na�ve, and just eighteen, Elsie leaves the stifling environment of her parents� home in Cornwall to seek out her sister, Leo, who had run away nine years earlier. She finds Leo sharing a houseboat, and a bed, with the beautiful, fair-haired Helen. While Elsie�s arrival seems innocent enough, it is the first of a series of events that will turn Helen and Leo�s contented life inside out. Soon a randy young doctor is chasing after all three women at once, a neighborly friendship begins to show an erotic tinge, and long-quiet ghosts from Leo�s past begin to surface. Before long, no one is sure just who feels what for whom." ----- which sounded just a bit off, so I returned to my vintage paperback and reread the back - "Elsie Lane, wide-eyed, impressionable and seventeen, hadn't seen her older sister Leo in ten years. Leo had left home under something of a cloud and a suggestion of scandal, and Elsie had always imagined Leo sharing a life of glamorous sin with an equally glamorous lover. But when Elsie ran away from home and arrived, unannounced, on Leo's rather unorthodox doorstep she discovered her sister living happily with a lovely and very feminine young nurse named Helen Vaughan."
Wait! They changed her age to 18??! Grrrrr. See, in 1945, a respected writer can "get away with" having a child of 17 deal with her lesbian sister and her sister's lover, but since the 1980's, reprinting that tale requires changing her to an adult of 18. (Larry Townsend's The Long Leather Cord, when reprinted in the 90's had to change the father-sons relationship to stepfather-sons) - grrrr, I hate shit like that! And I think I prefer the original "lovely and very feminine young nurse named Helen Vaughan" to the current description "beautiful, fair-haired Helen" - fair-haired? How stupid and uninteresting. So, whilst on the backcover, that's when I saw the Rupert Brooke quote,
"Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist.
and punching in part of that quote into Google, I got the full sonnet and a very cool biography of Rupert Brooke - in part: "Early sensual encounters with males had left an indelible mark on him, all the more so in an Age when any deviation from the sexual norm was considered a sin against nature. The trial of Oscar Wilde had recently taken place, and its consequences must have been painfully obvious to Rupert Brooke."
And in the middle of all this web-surfing/searching, the phone rings. It's CrazyFrenchMan, who I haven't heard from in about 10 days, and hadn't seen in what, 2-3 weeks now? I was just concluding that I wouldn't ever see him again, and hearing his voice, my mind raced wondering whether, if, when, we might see each other. But soon he got to the point, he's leaving town for awhile. Seems he needs to return home (did he say Bordeaux?), rather important matters to take care of, will be there for at least 6 weeks, and quite possibly much longer. We talked for quite awhile, details of why he must go, but some silly and playful stuff, too. I eventually asked for a postcard, and he said "sure, if you promise to come visit." But he eventually gives in, takes my mailing address, and then I ask for a photograph - "can you take a picture of yourself on the beach, relaxing, enjoying yourself?" We've discussed his camera shyness before, but this request clearly pleased him, and he promised without hesitation that he would take pics of himself on the beach. He leaves Monday, has a shitload of things to do to get ready, so I didn't want to suggest seeing each other, but tell him to just think of his Mother's welcoming smile, and that will get him thru the tasks he needs to do in the next 48 hours. We say our goodbyes, I feel sad and wistful. Only 3 evenings spent together, several longish phonecalls, my repeated doubts to myself about this going anywhere, but that smile, that face... ah. Returning to the computer, the sonnet still on the screen, the lines that fortunately do not apply:
Pleasure's not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh,
Saturday, August 02, 2003
Friday, August 01, 2003
director: Arthur J. Bressan, Jr. (1974)
Nearly 30 years old, this film is about a man who places a personal ad in the paper (stumped for what to say, he uses a Walt Whitman poem), and an 18-year-old boy who lives at home with his parents responds. Much of the film is narrated by the correspondence between the two, but they do finally meet. Great footage of early 1970's San Francisco, including the Gay Freedom Day March. Loneliness, coming out, and other themes are touched upon, most notably the theme of younger/older male couplings (only 10 years separates the two); he revisits that theme again in his 1976 film Forbidden Letters, and to critical acclaim in his non-porn Abuse (which also explores other controversial themes - Check out the two Amazon.com customer reviews to get differing reactions to the film).
I was born in September, 1960. I am 5'8, 33/34w, 42ch. I am clean cut, short hair, nice smile/dimples
Dimples? This is the second time in 24 hours I've seen dimples mentioned in an AOL profile. They can't be serious. Or is this "code" for something, like a new drug, or sex act, that I am just too uncool to know about?