Drama Queens

Sure,, he could slam a full gram, but call him Percy and he'd burst into tears.

Or as it happened to me, I'd barely sipped my double margarita, when I noticed my dinner companion had guzzled his. The result: he got loud, belligerent, and brought up my long dead mother.

And I told him to shut the fuck up. 
Now highly offended, he marched out of the restaurant. I enjoyed my meal in peace.
Then, in getting in the car to drive home, I noticed my cell phone was gone.

Return of A Jedi or The Boy* Who Came Back

*by no means a 'boy' but grant me artistic (and marketing) license.

About 3 months ago, on a website far far away, I stumbled across the cam of a very cute looking guy, a few years younger than me....well, eighteen years younger if you must know.  Donning my wolf-in-worsted-wool-style I sent salutations, and asked him to join me on Oo-voo, or AIM, or ICQ...it didn't matter...he agreed. I'm not one for groveling...I mean... seducing attractive younger men in chat rooms with two hundred strangers eavesdropping really cramps my style.

NO, I ONLY PLAY A WARLOCK ON CAM...oh gosh, we are on a cam, ahem.
Thank goodness I sensed this guy was knee deep in a tweak or I'd probably said, "Warlock? You confuse me with Carlos Estevez...aka Charlie Sheen. I am greater than that!"(I encountered CS in Vegas years ago, plastered, as we shared an elevator ride in the Golden Nugget Hotel). But it didn't matter, my new pal from the Midwest, had cast me as the leader of an all powerful organization intent on doing him no good. Being a man shaped by movies, I merged the Stepford Men's Association with those loveable old coots who shared the Dakota Apts with Rosemary and her baby-to-be...then realized it's no compliment being compared with Sidney Blackmer, Maurice Evans or even Ruth Gordon. I know my voice is a bit nasal but..really!

NOT SO FAST, FURIOUS OR FUNNY
I make light of this, but Andy, an otherwise intelligent, grounded guy was in bad straits. And there was no charming smile, no witty repartee, nothing I could do to calm his fears. I'd encountered this before...with guys of all shapes and sizesbut I usually could talk them out of their trees. And for the first time, I wondered if my on screen 'persona', which isn't too far from 'me' but certainly ratched up, was working against me. And, perhaps for the first time, I consciously saw what staying too long at the party could invite. We've all watched as someone who clearly needs to call it a night continues on. Sometimes we egg them on. (and sometimes, that totally fucked up person is playing us...meaning he's sober as a judge). Actions have consequences, lest we forget.

GONE IN 60 SECONDS
I managed to get Andy's email before he logged off and blocked me. I even took some time to research the macabre meanderings in his midwest village (thank God it wasn't Wisconsin). Time went by, and to my utmost pleasure, I got an email last week from him and we caught up. He's backed off chemistry class and opted for philosophy. He's far braver than I, but we expect that of subsequent generations. And I'm proud as any papa could be, not because of what I did, but what I didn't do.

The Blogger Who Came Back

(this is a re-post of a blog from a prior site. New readers to this blog can 'catch up' on the narrative and go back into the previous entries, now entirely included here..)

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A LINE?
It's after 2AM on the West Coast....or maybe it's later. California's economy...last to go into recession,always the very last to come out, is so very lousy I expect Daylight Savings Time has lost value.
I HAVE NOT RETURNED WITH TABLETS FROM CEDARS-SINAI...ERR MOUNT SINAI.
That's a Ten Commandments reference...not a pharmaceutical one. I enjoyed my sabbatical(though anyone can always find me a Skypeing). I didn't return with long grey hair and saffron robes or really any revelation. So much for Shangri-La.
I wasn't on top of Old Smokey nor on Top of the World, but I did have some mighty fine playtime on top of some mighty sexy men: and more than a few were actual human beings! (Make of that what you will)
I was outdoors, indoors, in a tent, incognito, and inflagrante delicto. And I even got to spout movie dialog.
ON TO THE BAD NEWS
While I've been interviewing, networking and brainstorming my entreprenuerial ass off, no jobs have manifested themselves. And, baffling, no roommate for my extra bedroom (see classifieds). And the weekend of Carmageddon, I learned what its like to be a hockey puck with Hollywood Boulevard as the rink, and a Silver Jeep Cherokee as the mighty stick who rammed in the side of my car, and sped away. I wasn't injured but my yellow car was.
So, as of now I seem to be about 5G's short. And I don't have either a Rhett Butler, Daddy Warbucks or reliable Ouija board to help me out.
SITUATION WANTED
Yes, I have a plan of action, sort of. I remember someone cautioning me about 'trading down', which is a matter of opinion. Living high on the hog is a bit pretentious in this decade. The best defense is still a good offense. But never have I felt so very much like the orphan I am.  I am not alone: everyone is feeling a python-like squeeze of tough times, uncertainty and apathy, and I understand that.
A BOWL OF DOLLY PARTON
She gave a terrific performance at the Hollywood Bowl, but also shared her thoughts on her life in some very frank words. She decided she was going to be rich, and she acknowledged that she'd often paid dearly for that choice. I look around at my own life, and realize that while not financially set, I made choices; make choices, and it would be easy to reflect and drive myself bonkers with regret. I have no regrets. We can't change our past, we don't know what tomorrow brings, but we can affect NOW.
JUST SAY NO? NO.
You think getting high (or getting sober) is the quick fix. No such luck.  Hell, my closest friends and I can't even admin ourselves correctly these days. And when partying becomes borng, you know that as addictive a personality you might have, that blaming the drugs is bogus, like blaming your problems today on your parents for not paying for ballet lessons at age 5(NO, not me!) or blaming Bozo the clown, and thus, all clowns for not showing up at the Chrysler dealer by Love Field in 1972(ok, that was me).
LIVING IS THE BEST REVENGE
My point? Look in the mirror. It begins and ends with you. No knight in shining armor, no golden ticket in a Wonka Bar. No waking up and having dead Bobby Ewing pop out of the shower. I have to figure it out, and damn it I will. I'm not going to be a victim.  I have to figure it out, however long it takes and at whatever price. I have to grow up. That really burns my creme brulee.
My grandmother would have nipped my whining in two shakes of a lamb's tail and kicked my narrow ass for good measure. "Always remember, you were born in the briar patch'. And with that, I'm heading to sleep and pick up where I left off in a few hours.

Tamam Shud? or Shudn't

(this was originally posted on July 1, 2011, on another site as the Season Finale
Translation-I took a month off from blogging, and relaunched this blog on Blogger.

There was the Door to which I found no Key
There was the Veil through which I might not see
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was-
and then no more of Thee and Me

Quatrains anyone? They’re divine with honey, I'm told. The above is a quatrain, and has nothing to do with Amtrak.
 

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, from where the above quatrain appears, was translated by Edward FitzGerald. Had he been named Edmund FitzGerald, you would heard my screams all the way to Genesee Depot, WI.  It’s about 2AM there right now and Ten Chimneys must be dark and still, but the historic farmhouse and grounds are in order and ready for arriving guests: earthly or not. The house is a portal to somewhere or a inescapable vortex: trust me.

If you find yourself in the Milwaukee area and have a passion for historic homes, forgotten Broadway legends, and possess the slightest bit of childlike wonder....
...Ten Chimneys, the summer home of acting greats Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, is a mystical Mecca for we metaphysical types. (If you are just 'regular folks' you won't notice anything unusual.)

I lost my heart to that enchanted farmhouse: and i tried giving my heart also to the person who took me there. He refused my ardent advances, stating he just wasn't into a romantic 'anything' with me.
Months later, I tried to explain how this could have been handled more diplomatically,  but I failed.  

I’ve broken my own heart only twice over someone else. I take the responsibility. The situations were exactly 30 years apart. I realized it was happening, and I couldn’t change the script, but I could change the ending. I had carried a torch for my high school boyfriend for almost 30 years. Now, I could eep mooning over Wisconsin's favorite son, or walk away and remain friends. I chose the latter.

Described once as ‘the most lavish single copy’ of The Rubaiyat,  due to the hand-crafted binding which took two years to complete. Published in 1860, the rather plain interior pages were bound in Moroccan leather, and embroidered with gold leaf, It was decorated with 1020 precious gems: amethysts, diamonds, ivories, rubies, olivine, pearls, topazes and turquoises (what no emeralds?). The front cover featured three peacocks: the back cover a type of lute and the inside back cover-- a skull.
This spectacular item was last sold at a March 1912 auction in London to an American bookseller, Gabriel Wells, for $2025 USD (equal to $57,000 in 2011) Sotheby's packed the book for shipping and arranged its transportation to New York and delivery it to Wells' office.

Today, of course, Mr. Wells copy would be worth much, much more. Assuming it survives intact(quite possibly), then found and successfully retrieved--from the floor of the Atlantic. This incredible and valuable artifact is but one among the millions of fragments of artifacts of the RMS TITANIC.

I’m not quite in the same sinking fast position as TITANIC, but I find I must have some money, so I am taking a break from blogging. Time to rededicate myself to avoid the financial and emotional iceberg I'm heading into. I thank all of you for your many kind emails and posts of support.

In what seems like a lifetime ago, my NKP profile had this cryptic quote:
"To become what you must, you must give up who you are."

 
Let's end with another Rubaiyat quatrain translated by FitzGerald: 

I sent my Soul through the Invisible
Some letter of that After-life to spell
And by and by my Soul returned to me,
And answer’d "I Myself am Heav’n and Hell
 

and here’s a song for you.
Peace.

Seductive Sunday

Originally posted 6/29/2011 on another site

I needed to get some bad energy expelled in my previous, petulant and perfectly pedestrian blog. Ugh! I was ready to shake my own bratty self silly. There are so many pleasures to be had in life: yet I wallowed like a dog in the meat locker of Lady Gaga's seamstress. This morning I resisted the urge to revise: its part of my attempt to be ‘authentic', as horrifically authentic as that may be.

In the light of a new day and having cleared my mental trash bin, I got some clarity. That's why I blog. Speaking of which, I'm in the process of setting up an all access blog on Blogger. Stay tuned. Now, I don't necessarily go ‘A-ha!' with insight but when the proverbial light bulb of self-realization comes on, it's quite rewarding. 

Sunday's LOS ANGELES TIMES book section had a review of La Seduction: How the French Play at Life by Elaine Sciolino. Like many Americans, my ancestors were English, Welsh, Irish and German but it's the French that bubbles to my surface. And as the title character in Moliere's Dom Juan ou le Festin de la pierre states, more or less « Once you are the master...the joy of passionate pursuit is over."  

What a revelation that was. Hey, a high score on a Stanford-Binet test does not translate into common sense. It makes crystal clear that while I'm flattered at the number of bottoms who hand over the reins of control within oh...33 seconds after meeting me, I don't find that as interesting as a handsome bastard who doesn't fall head over heels by at least the second flute of Veuve Clicquot. 

Perhaps in some way, my journey helps you avoid the walls I tend to walk right into. And having said that: I'm off to the hunt. Au revoir.

While You Were Spinning

Originally posted 5/25/2011 on another site


No IML For Me
I'm kickng myself for not going, as this year, I have the weekend off...and I if don't land some full time work, well, speak kindly of me.

Palms to Poles Derby
I've been so busy fucking, I didn't know May was National Masturbation Month. My hands have been full and I've been putting so much elbow grease into bed hopping, I'm as wet as the Swiss Navy would be without a boat. You dedicated ‘baters have about 6 more days to edge. Some statistics from a survey of about 6000 wankers, from that bastion of accuracy, the net:Participants were whether they masturbated, and if so, how often they did using several time frames (past month, past year, more than a year). In terms of frequency:

• 30% of women and 21% of men masturbated a few times a year or monthly
• 17% of women and 23% of men masturbated a few times a month or weekly
• 5% of women and 17% of men masturbated 2-3 times per week
• 2% of women and 11% of men masturbated more than 4 times a week

A Cut Above
San Francisco, a city with a sense of priority that defies logic, and elected officials who carry out said priorities like zombies, is considering an ordinance to ban Circumcisions. Yep. I double checked: Not Circuses, not Caesarian Sections, not Circuit Parties or Breakers, Circle Jerks, Circle K's or Cirque du Soleil.  Circumcision rates have been dropping wonder if this could prompt a foreskin tax in the future. Or a ban on  beef brisket due to poor communication.

No Miracles performed after Acsencion Sunday!
Here in Hollywood, I'm used to seeing celebrities in average places. Jesus himself appears to be spending his 40 day post-Resurrection In West Hollywood.  Not one to shun the spotlight and to my dismay, he is regularly interviewed. He looks a little haggard, but I think I know what would put some starch in his tunic.

Type A's and Conspiracy Theorists Take Note
For those adventurers who chase tornados, ambulances, rainbows and are genuinely suspicious, here's a website for you. The Global Incident Map covers real time threats, natural disasters, border patrol: you name it. No UFO vampires or Elvis sightings though.   
Hi--ho to Chicago

For those of you traveling long distances to and from IML in Chicago this weekend, travel safe, travel smart and remember that the Monday, May 30, pack up your leathers and break out the seersucker and linen. Labor Day is only 3 months away.

Can't Fish? Cannes Fish. Film at 11

Originally posted 5/22/11 on another site.

In my town, we’ve been on top of the Cannes Film Festival. And because I know you’re too shy (or high) to ask, it’s pronounced ‘can’. Yep. Don’t say ‘khan’ unless you’re talking about Genghis, Chaka or the Star Trek sequel. 

The first Palme d’Or recipient was the 1955 film Marty, directed by Delbert Mann, who would become my next ‘d’Or’ neighbor when I arrived in Los Angeles in 1988.  

A good film tells a story. There are a million kinky stories and many can be found right here.  And when I say ‘film’, I mean video, you cochon kinky méchant bourgeois!
(The French lesson is free by the way.)

 

Examinons le genre du film des 'le party' to parlez about, oui? Merci.  There now at www.chempigs.com and your paid NKP membership gets you in, libre. Other zodiac signs too.

For les stupides amateurs: read the following carefully on how to make a great video.

-Viewers want to see your point (a syringe looking instrument aka a ‘rig’) registering (meaning something looking like blood goes into the ‘rig’). 
-Next, show us the contents of the rig being injected.
-Lastly: ‘the rush’. For those auditing this class sans experience, the rush is a (chemically induced v natural) sensation of heat, a feeling of extreme euphoria and an involuntary surrender of control and inhibitions as the rig’s contents swoosh via the blood stream through the body.

Do not cheat your viewers by ending there: critics can be merciless.
The audience expects to see, if not the whole face or body, a portion of the face (think masks, eyewear, lampshades) as the rush rolls.  A hearty cough, never guaranteed nor ever should be, may be heard, so please have sound. The film and ritual are completed (and thus properly respected) by the slammer uttering, muttering, howling, or punctuating via exclamation the Esperanto phrase:  ‘Fuck Yeah!’  The End. 

Savvy viewers won’t be impressed with lavish sets, designer wardrobe, casts of thousands, special effects or love themes if your basics aren’t in place. Squalor and disaster aren’t in vogue; happy and horny ever after always are.  Should you unwittingly bomb, don’t fret but consider pulling your vid tout de suite.

The best films, regardless of subject, are when we, les voyeurs, feel the passion. Passionate old Top that I am, I can’t resist a parody of movie musicals. And I have never watched Glee: I'm an old school queer.
Click here, and substitute today’s genre word ‘slam’ every time you hear ‘jazz’. Sing loud and howl with me: OH…FUCK…YEAH!

Voila! Vive le cinema! Class dismissed.

For Hoarse Men and the Apologists

Originally posted on 5/13/2011 . Changes have been made and the text has been edited for clarity.

IA man named Woodman with whom I have an on-again/off-again interest ( I have the 'on' while his view of me is, alas set to 'off') can look both with logic and no emotional investment told me last month that ''party and play' as a general trend' was declining. Good.

What? The original bachelor playboy denouncing partying? Think I'm nuts? On drugs? Face it: it's costly, and I don't mean just in money. It's hard on the body, and more so on the spirit. just indulge crazy but sober old me.

1: I've studied party and play and porn videos for 3 years...that's right,  study them for the storytelling merits: in these times you make your own job. Back to the videos: the older ones are truly more classic. I suffered the period where all that came along featured avant-garde effects, then the trend of 'teasers' that started late and ended too soon. There was a period when many videos were best used as ‘Just Say No: and Here's Why' documentary Countless others should have gone straight to the recycle bin. I'm encouraged by what I've seen in the past two weeks. Men. Partying . Well.  I'd like to think we are passing out of an unspoken Slamdance Film Festival Contest-mindset and back to storytelling, the classic way. This means those making videos are respectful of the power of the product.

2. The economy is slowly improving, thus new websites are popping up, fetish specific versus one stop where all kinks are included.  I've cancelled memberships and dropped many sites....mainly those with members who had the same faces under different screen names  all denying their kinkiness. NKP pioneered the concept of  "A fetish website whose members by default admit they are fetishists too". Wouldn't you rather browse 5 sites dedicated to 5 individual kinks versus 5 sites having the exact same one-size-fits-all content? Specialization keeps birds of a feather partying (or fisting, or rimming or hailing... a taxi) together. Not everyone wants to get into every kink at the same time. Actually I don't think that's physically possible. Focusing fosters fraternity.

3. You may have missed the memo that much of what is discussed in cyberspace chat rooms if acted upon is...considered illegal in most countries, and other subjects are regarded as just bad taste everywhere. But we're in cyberspace and that means fantasy mode...like Dungeons and Dragons. At least that's how I perceive it . I'd like to think we're at the heart, a bunch of good old boys running that underground game: Demons and Delusional Dudes. But trends come and go and PNP may soon become an quaint bit of nostalgia like poodle skirts and the Pet Rock. Those of course, who respect and can handle the side effects will need to hunker down, support each other and the result is a commmunity of like minded men.

4. A genius (or a lunatic) has come up with the idea of creating a videoconferencing directory of PNP devotees to circulate around like the pledge books of old. No, it's not press 1 and be connected to every player in the world, but you may find it handy.  Wide awake and wanting to see the clouds roll by? Send out a blanket message to the database and see who wants to join you.  Shaking like a....salt shaker belonging to a Quaker until you can slam? Now you might just not have to do that alone. You have to admit it keeps you off the streets, safe and secure at home. The roster is saved to your account, so you can block who you want, give the group a name (My Idea: The Social Register's Rush Guide to  Rushing Chemists). It's the start of a community, which is far away from trendy. Conversely it is a list, and if you join your screen name is on it. On the other hand.....it is a list and you might not want your screen name on such a list. You can leave the group and remove your name but personally I'd rather be with a group than standing solo.

You will have to ferret out your own signs that PNP is on the downtrend . I don't believe in conspiracies...no one is sober that long to have a solid plan. I am way over paranoiacs, power predator pervs and pretenders to the throne. I'd gladly show them the door if cyberspace had one.

If you can't chem well, don't chem. Know when to stop. You can do it. If you like to watch people on cam but you can't buy a cam for whatever excuse..Frys.com sells them for 5 bucks with a 5 buck rebate..then you don't want to network: you want a circus sideshow. Shame on you.

Still not convinced this is not the hobby for you and can't we please indulge you? No. We will love you but the dedicated addicts among us need our space to keep each other sane and balanced. This is no place for dabblers. Accept it and act accordingly.