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.

A Night in Hollywood, A Day in Shangri-la

 Originally posted  4/26/2011

After posting those last two exercises in egomania, I felt remorseful. This is not the place to get the blues from tabloid fodder or mis-matched dates. By and large, there are some really great encounters...where nothing is expected other than fellowship. The play is natural and equal, and while no promise for a repeat is planned, you are thankful for the time spent together.

I went to my first orgy in 3 years: a home halfway between my digs and the Hollywood sign. I'd been invited by a tall, lean and hairy filmmaker. His partner, who I deduced was there to keep an eye on things, was a bit heavier, a bit hairier and silent as a statue. They had not a Doberman or Pit Bull, but a Mr. Winkle-like canine(but butch)I'll call Mr. Marvelous that followed me as if I had sirloins strapped to my feet. When it was suggested Mr. Marvelous might start to hump my leg, I replied that MM might find himself drop kicked out the window. A ring of the doorbell, and our next guest arrived...a hot man with an incredible penis. Yet, another person was due..and I sensed a long night on Art Linkslammer's House Party.

Having time to think, I began to question why we'd been called together. Was this get together being videotaped?...and assured that was not the case. But I didn't think to ask about streams and web feeds: even so, I think the audience, if there was one, deserved a refund..because the night became more about film theory and business...Inside the Amateur Actor's Studio kinda.

Our host learned an important lesson that night: when you are in charge, don't get so fucked up things go sour. In his quest to have a dozen tops to fuck him....he ended up with three tops and two bottoms, and our host who had cast himself in the role of the star bottom, ended up fucking the other bottom while we three tops watched bemusedly. 'Topping for the Tops...followed by 'Grey's Anatomy': ABC Thursdays!

We were a 5-some with minds worthy of Mensa and conversations got very interesting. For an hour, we brainstormed ideas on film making, brand merchandising, concepts and style. It was probably one of the least sexual, but most stimulating nights I'd had. Everyone participated, everyone had great ideas, but I grew restless. I  thanked my fellow entrepreneurs and left.

That Tuesday was followed by a Swimmingly Saturday spent with a sexy, hirsute handyman, young enough to be my son (and no he wasn't), and another casual afternoon talking...when I wasn't following behind him shoving my cock in his butt or my tongue down his throat.  Delicious.

The good play far exceeds the days where things go haywire. Because if you have read my past adventures...haywire, well, is haywire.

People Who Live in Garages Shouldn't Throw Radiators

Originally posted 4/24/2011 on another site in a slightly different format

"The best defense against bad manners is good manners," so an old saying goes. I stand guilty. I lost my temper and tossed a guest out. No, not over the balcony railing. 

A few weeks back I was invited down to the beach for some play. Knowing full well I'd be better off staying home, there I was, zipping southwest down Sunset Blvd. And then he texts: 

"Shall we play a game?"

I phoned back, knowing full well I wasn't hooking up with Matthew Broderick or Ally Sheedy.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'll have all the lights out, but come into the open garage door. Be quiet because Mummy, she's  bedridden...but will be asleep upstairs. I'll be in the garage..and you come up behind me, admin..." said Beach Boy (who's older than me) in a throaty whisper that called to mind Watergate. 

I politely declined his inane idea, primarily because I'd never been to his place before and wandering into a dark open garage didn't sound wise when the residents have a private security patrol on duty.

Parking a few houses away, I hopped out of my car, was greeted by my 'date'. It seems he had converted the garage into his bedroom: ala either Keith on The Partridge Family or Greg on The Brady Bunch and a) was reminded how QUIET neighborhoods are at 2AM b) stunned by the framed and signed photo of Barbara Bush above the deep freeze, c) learned that Mummy was not bedridden, and d) was tossed out because my offer to be timekeeper and stop the play at 6AM was ignored and it was now 8AM and someone had to get to work.

You'd think I'd not invite disaster into my home, but I did. The incentive this time was a) he'd drive up to see me b) he would bring a friend (a cute friend) who was a phlebotomist c) I don't have a garage. 

They arrived and to my horror, Beach Boy looked as if his clothes (the few there were) had been through a shredder after an attack of moths. Since my building isn't on Tobacco Road and I have a doorman, camera security and NEIGHBORS, I was irritated. Clearly I had a Marie Antoinette-type who enjoyed playing with imagined peasants. I laid out house rules, most of which were broken within an hour. His Sidekick, I learned was indeed a phlebotomist but had no experience as an administrator : another lie exposed with a ‘sh*t-eating grin' that only blue bloods can pull off. 

Under my firm direction and gentle threats, Sidekick learned a new skill; using Beach Boy as the pincushion.  Tying Beach Boy down left me free to focus on my new student: who informed me he was a virgin under the watch of aliens. I offered to show his otherworldly masters how an typical Earth male fucks, but they didn't respond. Neither did he so I suggested breakfast. They declined, and I went by myself thinking they might get the hint and leave: Beach Boy being wealthy, theft was not a concern. 

I returned, finding to my dismay there were still there, but I'd popped into Goodwill and presented Beach Boy with Ralph Lauren flamingo pink shorts, a royal blue seersucker shirt with embroidered yellow whales and an orange ball cap and to wear out (best 4 bucks I've ever spent),.

But the fat lady hadn't sang. Somehow, the conversation veered to my long-deceased parents, their money and Beach Boy asking "why wasn't I given a private university education? "

His question was trivial, and my reaction unbecoming of a man orphaned at 12 and one walked away from Baylor University's Pre-Medical Studies to follow his own drummer.
My parting words to this stuck-up SOB? 
"At least I know how to dress when I go to the city to visit!" Ce que les mots cruel!

In my case, it was clearly was the drugs talking: that drug being Tylenol, to combat my headache.

For the record, I believe class is a state of mind, not one's financial position or zip code.

Thy Name is Trigger

Originally posted 4/11/2011 on another site in a different format

Situations can go so off-track one questions investing in a friendship beyond a hook up. If there's chemistry in the dungeon, shouldn't the same be true in the glare of daylight and reality? Last week, the script changed yet I was still reading the blue pages instead of the new goldenrod ones.

Across the canyon from Uncle Gustav are my other two uncles: Charley and Martin. They are a couple who aren't a couple, but look after each other in one of those spooky Cielo Drive-like ranch houses. The kind where you can hear ice rattling in pipes up and down the canyon....or maybe it's a blender creating a Rum Frappe next door. Charley and Marty wisely isolate their kink to the back 40 of their rambling acreage. A structure which originally served as a clubhouse in Our Gang comedies of the 30's has been rehabbed as the Treehouse of Iniquity with wall to wall leather, every possible restraint, probe and shackle available. It features Dr. Jekyll's Soda Fountain, which is a fully stocked bar, a room with costumes for a cast of thousands...and if you look close...tiny cameras tucked in every beam. You never play with both Uncles. You click with Charley: Marty's running video editing up at the house. You're making it with Marty: Uncle Charley's in post-production. I love them both and their approach to life in a twisted VistaVision and Stereophonic Sound meets Big Brother live feed way.

But one does not live solely for play sessions that start when the wolf bane blooms and the moon is full and bright. I was off to meet Uncle Charley in Beverly Hills for lunch, but that morning I had two house guests presumed in jail, and before I learned how to post bail, I cancelled lunch.  My message never made it to the Polo Lounge.

We rescheduled but getting my Uncles into clothing and back out of their compound ain't easy. Plan B was that I'd pick up lunch at a cafe near their place and help with some spring cleaning that originally was fall cleaning. I looked forward to it.

I'm about to leave, when I get an email from Uncle Charley arrives in my in-box. His third cousin, twice removed, had passed in Scottsdale, there's tons of film to edit and he's in hermit mode. Uncle Martin is there for him, as he always is. Charley wrote me that sex is ok...but not today. Marty mustn't be angered. Don't call us: we'll call you.

How buying lunch and cleaning closets morphed into Frisky Frolics prompted me to call Uncle Charley who reiterated his e-mail. I found this heartbreaking and then I got mad. After numerous nights of intelligent, non-sexual conversation, my Uncles: now viewed me as the Pied Piper of PNP and no more. With a finger pressing the ‘send' key,  I was written off their show.

It's a fatal flaw in cyberspace friendships that needs to be resolved: not objectifying each other as triggers, but as brothers in arms. Who better to seek advice from than a guy who's been there? I know the party mantra: ‘don't take it personally' ‘it's them, not you'.

That doesn't keep the sadness away, when one feels so very much alone and so very out of place.

With the Compassion of Sandpaper

 Originally posted 4/24/11 on another site


One part of my ‘re-booting' program: after sleeping, eating and popping vitamins, is reading. Think about it: you're replenishing the body, shouldn't the mind follow? (Nourishing the soul is a subject for another time).
I don't infer you attack The Wall Street Journal or Nietzsche in the original German either. As with most passions, I'm voracious....lists and phone directories give me a woody. As a writer and a human (yes, me) I get hot under the collar when the reporting is glaringly inept.

Granted, it was STAR magazine, and the unflattering Lindsay Lohan cover photo hooked me just as intended. I did not buy a copy, opting to read about LL in NEWSWEEK (now edited by Tina Brown, which shatters the illusion I'm a closet high-brow).
I've seen Ms. Lohan twice; at my breakfast hang-out during her lesbian period and looking frail, and last November, alighting from a car and looking fantabulous. I truly hope she recognizes her troubles as opportunities, since I empathize with her situation, and am about the same age as her so-called parents (an internet article entitled Dina Lohan Slammed by Producer made me curious as to cyanide's liquidity with saline or hot water).

My beef boils down to two quotes.  "She'll be an addict all her life," says the 'source' who got paid for his uncanny insight. Anyone who's been there and is addicted knows that addiction is a life-long battle so let's not demonize it.
As I often say, my addictions include Lipton iced tea, Tex-Mex dinners, Art Deco architecture, French bulldogs and...bad writing. (Kidding on the writing assessment)  Addiction is my cross to bear and how I do, or don't shoulder it well is my journey. The other pearl of wisdom I gleaned and I paraphrase, "Some days she's serious about her recovery, and other days not at all." I suppose that could mean LL, like all of us, has her ‘good days and bad days' which sounds a little more caring.

I was surfing Cam4 last Sunday and happened to land on a popular page...and noticed one half of a duo needed to be burped and put to bed.
The viewers were made up of two camps: clueless as to why he looked ‘as if he'd been drugged' and judgmental as only those with something to really hide can. I chimed in with an appeal for compassion, and promptly put myself in the hot seat.  WHY? I was asked. In a rare display of brevity I answered, "Why not?"

On the Fence of Abstinence

Originally posted 3/14/2011 on another site in a different format

I felt not unlike I was in that old movie Grand Hotel...the one with Garbo 'wanting to be alone'. Let me just say, come Friday night: I felt Garbo's pain. I had a real-time situation comedy/thriller/mistaken identity/runaway groom/sociopath story unfold before me.
My guests, uninvited guests and guest stars included: a doctor, nurse, an airline pilot turned telecommunications expert, a director, a newspaper man, a boot lover, a former trick, a houseboy, his boss, my crazy cousin, a waiter and my neighbors across the driveway: whom for 17 years never gave me much thought, but thanks to recent events, now host tailgate parties on their balconies at sundown.

It was also Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. One might think it's time to reduce the drama, go within and not have my apartment known as the Hollywood Hilton A-Go-Go.

And you: gentle reader. Are you taking a break these next 40 days? The next 30? This next week? Break means a break. Not a scary end. It might mean a rest off the treadmill.

All breaks are good. Do not feel bad because you stopped for a week, and your buddy went two weeks. If you go on holiday, let people on your fave sites know you've gone, either by a profile change, emails...I for one worry if I don't see you around for an extended period.

In the interim, educate yourself. Here are three links I found interesting, though I have not read through them yet. I do not recommend these as accurate, false nor do I guarantee any statements presented as facts. I thought them good sites to visit.

BLUELIGHT is a forum for all types of discussions regarding all sorts of things. I appreciate their statement they have posted:  "Bluelight is monitored by various agencies". Think about that when next you post on Craigslist or Nasty Kink Pigs' pig board w/a phone number whining for illegal substances or situations  It's so unbelievable that people would do that: they must think we're all a  bunch of practical jokers.

Erowid is another resource I liked. I've uh..randomly selected the link to 'speed'. You'll get the myth, the mystique and the mistakes than can be made with meth.  Even a history. No mention of Hitler or Satan though. The Japanese in 1919 cooked up this concoction. Personally I'm more thankful for sushi. There is a great mantra at the end: Control drugs. Don't let them control you.

And last but not least (and if I find more links I will post them) The Partnership@Drugfree.org is like a Webster's Dictionary but not such complex reading that you need a medical license. It's user friendly with pictorials. Imagine if you ever went on Jeopardy! and the category was 'PNP'?  Brush up on your rush and be prepared.