Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Post Valentine Glow

Here's to you peeps.

Happy post-Valentine's Day to all those who are in love, out of love, waiting for love, looking for love, down with love, done with love, and full of love!



Touch
by Thom Gunn

You are already
asleep. I lower
myself in next to
you, my skin slightly
numb with the restraint
of habits, the patina of
self, the black frost
of outsideness, so that even
unclothed it is
a resilient chilly
hardness, a superficially
malleable, dead
rubbery texture.

You are a mound
of bedclothes, where the cat
in sleep braces
its paws against your
calf through the blankets,
and kneads each paw in turn.

Meanwhile and slowly
I feel a is it
my own warmth surfacing or
the ferment of your whole
body that in darkness beneath
the cover is stealing
bit by bit to break
down that chill.

You turn and
hold me tightly, do
you know who
I am or am I
your mother or
the nearest human being to
hold on to in a
dreamed pogrom.

What I, now loosened,
sink into is an old
big place, it is
there already, for
you are already
there, and the cat
got there before you, yet
it is hard to locate.
What is more, the place is
not found but seeps
from our touch in
continuous creation, dark
enclosing cocoon round
ourselves alone, dark
wide realm where we
walk with everyone.

from The Wild Reed
Poem from Closet Professor

Friday, February 3, 2012

Saturday: Succulent Porn

Imma getting me one. The prickly green thang. The thug with spikes. The hard succulent schlong. The hot rod oozing with thick clear liquid.

Flavorwire

Well, well, well. If it isn't that green mind of yours. What were you thinking?

This?

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Idolatry

American Idol is in season again. That means I can see an interesting cross section of the land of milk and honey. The show seems a lot more subdued, though. I don't know, but there are fewer outlying voices donning costumes --- remember the guy wearing feathers or that clueless she-bang guy.

Still, Simon Cowell may be right, all along. The franchise may have run its course. In fact, it has long become predictable and, lately, a bit stale.

But surprises still drop by. Phillip Phillips is one pop idol package. He's a potential.

Friday, January 13, 2012

MDNA

Yes, that's the new album of Madonna. She can still change her mind. It might just be M.

We wait.

Meanwhile, witch, work on it quickly. You need to pay your rent.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Hola!

YAWN. Just woke up from a hefty slumber. Man, is it morning yet?

Yeah, that too. Happy New Year!

from Guys Next Door

PS: You like my boxers? Nice huh? Psst, wanna peek inside? Shhh. It's your new year's gift.

Friday, December 9, 2011

End of Season Movie Pass

It's almost over. I mean, the year 2011. One more year and we're on the brink of who knows what, after 2012.

Time to catch up on a few of the cult or alternative films. Ok, ok, maybe not cult. But close enough.

What's on your list?


  1. Milk
  2. Shelter
  3. Boy Culture
  4. Wilde
  5. Prayers for Bobby
  6. Mysterious Skin
  7. Were the World Mine
  8. Single Man
  9. Get Real
  10. Just a Question of Love

Monday, December 5, 2011

The Flipside

Here's what the other side can be.

It's the flipside. Side B, for those who can still remember the analog age: tape cassettes, 12-inch or 45-inch Long Play vinyl records.

Most say it hurts. But past that pain barrier---when the gatekeeper of the underworld finally learns to yield; when surrender is the better part of valor---it can be the most pleasurable of earthly experiences.

Yes, Pluto, we're talking about anal sex. And the often undiscovered and shameful joys thereof.


If you're going to explore sexuality, this ain't Sex 101. That's for plain vanilla snogging. Anal is unadulterated dissertation material.

I mean, have you ever wondered about the reason for this unspoken order of preference and sequence in sex?

Well, have you ever wondered, why meals are consumed appetizers first before the main dishes, following an order of importance---from the simplest to the culinary fireworks, then towards a soft, happy landing with dessert and coffee?

Sex knows the same logic. Food and carnal delights always do.

Well, the rear is not for beginners. It's certainly not for the faint-hearted who only venture as far as the hors d'oeuvres and soups allow. Uh, uh, those are just starters. They're just a means to a much more satisfying big bang. They serve a purpose: to tickle the palate for the entrees. The main delights await those who have the bravado to sink their teeth into loftier feasts.

It's the same order of intensity: front acts and covers first, rock stars much, much later. So down boy. Not yet.

1. First the eyeball. It's the scanning for the known regions of heterosexual or homosexual space, depending on the tangent of the moon. Several pages of self-doubts, embarrassment and massive shyness get riffled in the mind's book. Then hubris, courage or plain swagger. Lame introductions, nervous handshakes and nods.

Pause. A hiccup of relief here. Smile, to greenlight the dance of words, pregnant pauses and furtive stares.

2. There's small, trivial talk. Oh, talk of just about any variety of sweetish, salty things.

"Wanna watch some sports?"

"Let's chill first with beer"

With the exterior of nonchalance, the dance meanders the silent music.

Underneath the cold steely growls, grunts and coyness, all the staging of the arena, verbal sparring, rhythm and rush of the blood are roiling deep and just under the surface of flushed skin.

3. There's the planned yet accidental touch of the arms or the round shoulders honed in five hours of weekly gym.

It is the tentative caress of that otherness, of that unexplored regions and terrains. It's an exploration of all the pent up anticipation. A titration of sorts. It's a wonderful sundry of what makes the other different, ergo, exciting. It's a plumbing into the mysterious gentlemen who, just an hour or so ago, was almost impregnable in his khaki parka and pale loafers.

4. Just when the coda is about to fade into the last bar, there is again the familiar scent of nerves, gnawing at the nape.

"You wanna hang out in my place? I have DVDs to finish."

"Have you seen Breaking Bad yet. They say it's good. I have a stash. Let's do a marathon."

Off to the bat cave Robin!

5. After peeling the layers of thoughts concealed in the mind, Robin and his mentor (Batman or Poison Ivy) proceed with the stripping of imposed decency---clothes.

They begin with the masks that hide secret identities and sins, the tiny barbs hidden in the folds of their curls, the long silky capes and sordid garments.

They kiss, of course.

Tongues, you know, aren't just tactile but can be gustatory and olfactory, an lethal mix. Body odors, flesh scents and salty aromas give the heady bouquet for sex.

6. We come now to the entrees of caramel skin, hot flesh and all the juices to lubricate the discourse.

Alas, it also follows a hierarchy: necking, petting, oral sex, anal sex and, finally, the second coming of Adam and Eve.

The thread that tie these acts crank up the senses from the purely ticklish lick of the pink nipple, to the wet kiss across the furry leg pits, to the fancy pull of the wiry happy trails, to the snap of the elastics just under the funky navel, you get the drift....

And, if you happen to notice, anal sex in second only to climax. And that's a lot of climb up the edge of reason.

---

There is certainly no reason to be abstemious about that experience at the edge of reason.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Good Endings

It's time to end marriage discrimination.