The role of taboo and the sexualization of nudity

It was about in the middle of college, I guess, that I started taking my first serious steps towards “coming out”… as hesitant as they were. My best friend, who’d been through a heavy Catholic upbringing and all-boys’ schools, took it rather more hard than he let on. If I’d recognized then what I realized later, that might well have been the end of it, but I cheerfully and ignorantly continued on the way I’d always done… and, after some weeks, he came to the conclusion that I might be a weirdo pervert, but was nonetheless the same old guy he liked to hang out with.

Sex advice: your mileage may vary

I met my old lover on the streets today
she seemed so glad to meet me, I just smiled

Tunes that wander through your consciousness. I’ve been thinking about my first male lover, who almost certainly isn’t reading this. Our interests are not all that similar when it comes to… well, almost anything except the desirability of playing with penises.

He had some advice and opinions to offer about sexual matters. I paid attention, because what the hell did I know about playing with men? But I confess that a fair bit of it didn’t appeal to me, and still doesn’t. So, your mileage may vary, as they say.

Dear Mr Fantasy

The best sexual fantasies, to me, always seem to involve a great deal of personality. Often rather rude personal entanglements. Which is odd, because, on the whole, these things don’t have any savor at all, on the intellectual level. They’re monkey toys. Leave us not forget that we’re a considerable part monkey, I guess. Some of the fancy theorists seem to miss that point.

The Homosexual Agenda

1. Get up. Grab some coffee, or maybe a beer.

2. Play WoW.

That’s the plan. Got a problem with it?

I met a nice guy, online, the other day

…but he’s probably straight (and there’s a dubious word), and almost certainly too young, and don’t we all have enough hang-ups, already? I like him, though. I’d like to lick him. His text tastes good.

Good man, and a good man is hard to find. It’s also been said that a hard man is good to find, and I’ll go with that. I appreciate beauty at least as much as the next man, but I love a good mind.

Wonderball says your chances are: (shake shake) cloudy. Meh, I appreciate the chance to talk to him. Smart guy. We’ll probably never meet. I may teach him a few things. I enjoy that, too.

A hellhole in the wall

It was, oh, was it about a year ago, today? Maybe? “Tempus fugits”, as George used to joke. He had a way with words. A bad way, really, he was a punster. But, he was certainly right about tempus fugiting. He’s dead now. A toast to you, old boy.

It must have been about a year ago that I went on that date. It was a long way out of town, and I wasn’t all that eager for the drive, despite the fine man awaiting me. (Not George). He lived in a little old place that hadn’t been getting better since the local industry collapsed. There was about one restaurant in town, so we went there.

I like big butts and I cannot lie

…well, I like a good, round pair of buns, anyway. I ‘member a guy I thought was really hot, back when, but he really had no ass to speak of. Not that I wouldn’t have played with him anyway but, I did kinda wonder how the hell he kept his pants on. He would have been a god if he’d just had a little more butt.

This article’s going to be “not safe for work”, in a text-only fashion, so you can stop right here if you’re squeamish or at work. We’re going to talk about the buttsecks.

Squeal like a pig

I like the banjo scene from Deliverance. It’s wonderful in oh-so-many ways. Irony, excellent music, and the curious theme (similarly expressed in Clockwork Orange) of that bizarre mixture of genius and beast that is Man.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything much more than PG-rated, here. (”It’s quiet.” “Too quiet.”)

I think I’ll reinstate Sexy Sundays. I have a mind to review pornography. I’ve made a fair survey of the field, I expect, and I’m inclined to share my observations. There is all too little video porn out there that is very good. Perhaps my pointers will have some small value.

Of course, people do have wildly different ideas about what’s exciting but, if you don’t like the pictures, perhaps you’ll enjoy it for the articles. Heh.

No worries. I’ll post the usual warnings and keep the good stuff below the fold. You can scurry off if the idea horrifies you.

Is it so so hard to understand

“He’s a magic man” – Heart

Time ago, time ago it was, a long time ago, so it seems. The early-towards-mid 1980s, when the very first IBM PCs were brand new, and far too expensive for commoners, and the tiny collection of machines that would become the Internet didn’t even register on the scope.

We were running TRS-80s, then, and Apple IIs, mostly. CP/M machines, and the odd Commodore. Our Internet was the phone line, with a modem running all of (often) 300 bits per second… you could watch the text scroll across the screen.

I’ve looked at life from both sides, now

Feeling fearful and ugly, and have to get out today anyway because it’s Rent Day. Ugh. Well, so. I have a story from a day or so ago, anyway, so I’ll file that now and go do something mindless and soothing. Hmm, I guess I was rolling down the coaster when I wrote it, it’s a bit sharp-edged.

BOMP ba bomp ba ba bomp bomp bomp…

Yep. They were playing “Let’s Dance”, by David Bowie, an attempt to get some cash off the disco craze around about 1980. Annoying music. I know it all too well, because I was listening to a lot of music in my later years in high school. I wonder why they’re still playing this garbage…

And I think, wow, it’s been a long time. If I’d had a son when I got out of high school, he’d be in his late 20s by now. And if he’d had a son when he got out of high school…