there's something nice about being listed directly underneath bruce labruce. i like this and yes, i have a very healthy ego. thank you steve. btw, post naked pics please.
i went to the mermaid day parade today, out at coney island. it was delightfully trashy: my upbringing at the Allen County Fair prepared me well for the "mini corn dogs or funnel cakes?" moment.
also, the spirit of the parade seems to lend the crowd a "let's be naughty" atmosphere. good thing i brought the good camera with the zoom lens. firemen in shorts, nuff said. developping...
whilst on the beach with my friends, i was snapping pics. then i got tired, and just put the camera down and looked around, sitting. after glancing at the parachute drop for a while, i noticed two women under it, heretofore unnoticed in my foreground view. both were exceptionally beautiful and sexy, reminding me of young Isabella Rossellinis. they caught my eye because they were those rare breed of women that get my train moving, so to speak. i also noticed them because they started looking at me intently. although it was clear i was casually looking in their direction, they proceeded to resume talking about me (obviously, my looking down had caused them to look away momentarily). i kept my face toward them, because to face forward would put my back at them. one had a camera with a very large zoom lens, and proceeded to take pictures of me. it appeared to me as if i'd interrupted that, too. i gave 'em a chest shot with the tattoo.
having a souvenier picture snapped of you by admiring strangers is something people like richard or henning have probably come to expect; however, it's never happened to me before. honest.
i've been so incredibly horny lately, it's like i don't have a mind of my own.
i find my attention being drawn to studly men, like a magnet, or a hound, my sidewalk trips being dictated by a trim young fellow in a tank top walking ahead, my gym routine entirely disrupted by my inability to concentrate on myself. i feel really, really good about myself, and all i want to do is play around.
troy and i were at the gym together thursday. the daddy i wrote about the night i met bobby, 'big guy', was there. he was doing triceps whilst i was on the abs machine. i heard him talk to someone before he got on it: he's soft spoken, and very polite. we were facing each other, each machine causing that rotating, overlapping gaze thing to happen, which automatically makes me zippy underneath. he was looking fine, and i could barely push. troy came over, and too loudly starts talking about him (and he of course can hear), and says he reminds him of my friend phil. of course, i wrote about this a while ago, and the only thing i can think to say is "troy, you never read anything i write, do you?". anyway, i missed big guy on my list:
3. big guy, who likes to play in the steam room and showers, and reminds me of a friend, but is bigger. soft spoken, very nice.
4. former number one, who works at world clothing shop. very intense looking, but not interested.
today i wore a loose summer shirt, top two buttons open, my tattoo peeking out, everyone at work a little addled about it (means i actually look really good). at a client meeting, i see a photo shoot happening, and while on a quiet back stair, the very hot italian photographer passes me, and give me a flirty look and tells me he likes my shirt. we talk, and flirt some. it was really indecent, cuz i was just breaking out of the meeting for a sec, and was trying to be a good boy by not flirting with him first, but he just talked to me. throughout the shoot, across the floor of offices, i could see him looking over at me from time to time, in the conference room.
tonight is the first weekend night of Pride Superbowl Weekend. i actually like pride, and the fact that all these gay tourists from all over come into town, and the fact that i run into people like white-trash dykes that i never would have independently conceived of existing. anyway, there are circuit parties galore, and some in my 'hood, so all these very cute men moving around here. and i'm headed home at 1145pm cuz i'm extremely exhausted from the week. i need sleep more than i miss sex. yes, it's only been 5.5 days.
some few of you out there were asking me to detail yesterday's escapade. for those of you out there who think i'm just going to post salacious details of my private sex life on the web just so you can get your willies, i say this: you got it!
of course, having been reading proust's book for about a year and a half now, even only getting to the second volume, i have learned that memories are lived in the present, and that recollections are always connected to present sensation, even as they separate us from them and catapult us into our minds. all of this is to preface the following.
one of the people who i sit near at work noticed right away my buzz this morning; not the chirpy two step i do when someone calls and says that our project is getting published, but that deep, long smile and hello on my face which says that i had great sex yesterday. that she assumes that it was casual, anonymous, and nasty is her own projection into my life. well, i guess i need some kind of standard to hold myself to. anyway, i doubt she noticed the spring in my step, which is nearly identical to the one i get when i worked calves and buttocks at the gym the previous day, but was actually from the lingering soreness in my ass. one of the best things about being topped by someone with such a huge dick as bobby is this deep, lingering ache; it's symmetrical to the deep pleasure i got while he was rocking it in and out, rolling his eyes and pressing his forehead on the ceiling, up there on his loft bed. it's been nearly 24 hours, and i can't say it's really subsided any.
i was going to do legs at the gym, but i obviously couldnt. so upper body, again. i don't want to get top-heavy.
speaking of upside-down, frank was at the gym. as richard has so kindly directed me, there are many, many pictures of #1 on the web, especially in this book, and on the cover. he was using the abs machine when i went to do mine. i got on the abs bench, inclined it high (as usual), and hung upside down by my legs. i'd crunch up, and as i'd come down, i could see him in my view, anti-grav, while he was coming up (down) from his rep. there is absolutely no need to live on an abstract plane or read derivative theory when such geometrically satisfying experiences can be had in real-time perception. i did a lot of crunches. me abs are sore right now, too.
speaking of inside-out, my new number 2 was there, the guy with the big arms and the wonderful sacred heart tattoo on his left arm. the tattoo is much more intricate than my own, and is very impressively done. whenever i glanced his way, it'd be as if he'd just been looking my way, but had averted his eyes. as if he wanted to know when he was being seen, but didnt want to meet eyes. whatever you like, papa. later, in the steam room, while i had my legs spread a little wider than usual, so as to let the steam relax my bottom side, and the steam massaging my ache, making me think of slightly grayed bobby, #2 came into the room, looking much like bobby does in profile, identical height, slightly gray, and this profile image of him melded perfectly into my semi-erect steam reverie. the only place to sit was next to me, and he sat closer to me than the guy on the other side of him, about two inches away from me. he put his arms to his side on the bench, while mine were on my lap, so that if i were to put mine on the bench, they'd be in his lap. i didnt do this, but kind of kept looking over at him. the intense, even steam they've got going in there makes it impossible to make eye contact unless someone is sitting next to you. he would look when i wasnt, but look away when i did. he was getting hard. (side note: the guy who last did this, the guy who was really too scared to look even when only he and i were in the room, was also in the steam room tonight. if he could have seen us, i'd have been in heaven). anyway, because there were a lot of people in there, including those who were standing and watching us, he bent forward, covering his erection, now clearly showing through the towel. he got up shortly after and showered. there were no other open showers, so i didnt follow right away.
when i got into a shower, i washed my butt. OW.
#2 was getting dressed near the showers. he was nude, and looked as i went by, but looked away when i looked. he didnt turn, but gave me a peek. i went to the mirror several times during my dressing, mostly to check my hair. once, when i came back, he was putting his pants on, but with no undies (he looks great in hanes briefs, btw), and his still semi-erect package curled deliciously slow over his button fly. the image is burned into my mind. he left a few seconds before me. i followed. he turned the opposite direction from my subway. i usually draw the line here; if he isnt going my way, i've got better things to do than follow him around town. i still do, but decided to follow him anyway. he ducked into an au bon pain after a block, and i felt weird, but stayed on the opposite block from it. as i did my u-turn, i noticed a guy who i'd dressed next to in the locker room, but passing me from the opposite direction from the gym. he was nervous, and stumbled past me. we'd left at the same time: he'd obviously followed me and been weirded by my sudden change of direction, and was BUSTED. i was too; i crossed the street, and #2 glanced at me, but didnt look long, and looked a little irritated; i guess he likes to keep his fun inside, not out.
i know it's not nice to follow and reveal yourself as doing so; it's a courtesy i am usually very sensitive to. if you want to be introduced, then you go talk to 'em. if not, just stay out of sight and take notes. i guess i wanted to meet #2, but didnt have the guts to just go up to him, which put me in the unworkable position of being seen, but too cowardly to do anything. i guess part of me likes to keep it inside the locker room, too. but more than that, i was feeling sated; the thing that usually bumps me over the edge, inhibition-short-circuiting sexual hunger, just wasnt there tonight. i was visually stimulated by #2, but didnt have the little jet engine in my belly that says "go GET that fucker". i already felt the pleasure i wanted to have received from him, backward, inside-out.
i called bobby today. after a day of boring, stuttered studying for another liscensing exam, i was going to treat myself by beating off in front of my computer, but decided to call him instead. he invited me over, and lickety split i got clothes on and left.
on my way out, i noticed they were working at the huge construction site directly across the street. usually, they are working at bad times; driving sheet pilings into the earth at 7am, hammer drilling on sunday morning, etc. today, i saw a lovely man in a tank top and carpenter jeans pulling a chain to position some machinery. it is the one good thing that comes from unionized labor's resistance to labor-saving construction techniques: there still needs to be that cute 45 year old doing some manual labor. needless to say, i ran up to my apartment, came down with the camera, and took a bunch of shots using a zoom lens. i'll post em when they get developed.
bobby was looking as good as ever. and he was even more fun to be with this time; familiarity is always the better fuck. and he's addicted to sex: he told me he'd already jacked off twice today (yesterday, on the train, he told me he'd done it three times before getting out of bed). while he was giving me some incredible head, someone called and left a message; someone named brandon leaving a too-long message about 'if youre free tonight maybe we could get together'. believe me, fellow. there's enough of him to go around.
anyway, the man is an amazing top, and is single-er,-handedly making me a believer in the bottom's world. i found out he's 38, older than he looks, but just the right age given his sexual adroitness. there's a reason to love playing with older men.
he took a card (with my number) so that he could call me more.
i was introduced to steve today when he so kindly sent me an email regarding his blog entry applauding my gym notebook. thank you, steve.
i was at the westside piers today, in the sun, shirt off, after freakily seeing bobby again on the train, getting off the train with him, making out with him in the middle of the day in the middle of chelsea eighth avenue in the middle of a street fair, getting his phone number, him going to work, me going to the gym, heavy cruize there, no steam room, leaving for heavy sun, shirt off more, iced coffee at espresso bar, cruizing christopher, new shoulder bag, new body, more sun, watching a massive floating crane demolish what's left of pier 42, putting the rubbish in two huge floating barges, one for concrete, one for wood, the whole sight kind of sad, like it is whenever a place that has seen so much mileage is demolished, especially sex mileage, laying out on the new grass lawns they've put there, chatting huge musclemen who like my tan, like my tattoo, like my earrings, like my ass, me tickled by thinking they are the most gamy, muscular men i've ever played with, letting the winds caress me, like the transvestite dancing to "save me" in her homemade dress, dancing it all to a casual audience of people only mildly less poor than her, dancing for wind and hudson river and maybe not the audience, dancing to become part of the weather, like you used to dance around your rich friend's pool in ohio, singing a theme park's theme song, before you backflip into the water, knowing not to care about your friend's dysfunctional parents and their ridiculous notions of propriety at the age of 10, the distinction between being motivated by joy and being good out of fear something you learned instinctively from your parents, like you don't care now that the lawn was planted to displace the piers, that the destruction of the piers means they will be rebuilt as attractions, places owned not as open, propriety in place, gamy displaced, but the lawn more powerful because the people who liked the piers like the lawn even more, inhabit it with joy, displace propriety, an even better place to lay down and watch the large, slow parade of gamy, studly men glide on by on blades or bikes than skanky pier 42 was anyway, some men with dogs (but not on the lawn), most with phones, some standing in front of the utility barge with a huge sign calling it SEA BEAR, you laughing loudly when you see this, possibly ironic but probably poignant, everyone with their shirts off, in the sun, tattooed, ringed, ready for a fuck, like you.
i think this is an entry to the gym diary. also, my ego has been boosted on several occasions in the last seven days, and i had to share.
the thing that i wanted to happen, that people would notice i'd been working out without 1. telling them or 2. posting before/after pictures of myself on the web, has happenned on several occasions this week.
barbecue last saturday: some columbia u pals i'd not seen in a year (since the last barbecue my buddy mike had) made some nice remarks about how healthy i looked. mike called monday to say they'd made REALLY nice remarks after i'd left about sexiness, my body, etc. thanks, guys.
last night dinner: my friend oliviero and his wife dorrit were in town from bergamo, italia. i havent seen oli since last september. he's very verbal, and had several nice compliments for my shoulders, my back, my profile, etc. he said i looked very healthy too...
concurrent with this is me being at these engagements; social occasions with good friends and good acquaintances, all of whom i dont really see that often. i feel very confident in my appearance, patient in my speech, would rather listen at times, more bold when i verbally engage, etc. some of this is certainly my experience this last year at work, where i've had intensive dealings with clients and contractors, so my social skills have matured. but the inner feeling of peace and sanctitiy (or something) is from being more at ease with my body. minx temple.
although i'm sticking to resistance weights for another month or so, i'm now up to pushing my body weight on the chest press machine, the symmetry of which thills me.
troy wrote this morning, after reading my new gym hottie order:
> what? why is Jamie bumped off? he is nice, just really shy and taken.
i have agreed to reinstate jamie to the list, but he's taking a place farther down in the top ten:
7. jamie, actor, cute, shy, nice arms, flirty (bad way), has serious boyfriend, never uses gym showers or steam room.
week 11 g notebook.
my list of gym hotties, the new order:
1. former number one contender, name:frank, hunky, mediterranean, h/x cover queen, tattoos all over, perfect body hair. he undressed near me today, and i did the same. we had a little checking out session. i had to wait for a shower, near his locker, and he just kinda hung out (despite being ready to go upstairs). i could barely breathe. he is over the top for me.
2. the daddy i saw today with a fierce sacred heart tattoo on his big left arm. he and i had neighboring lockers last thursday, and i chatted him up a little about the tattoo. i showed him mine. today, as he lifted, and i watched, he kept making eyes with me. i'd go this way, he'd look, that way, look. he's the type i'm certain is becoming my type: 42ish, a little gray, very muscular, about 5'10, 175', somewhat shy. he got up there about halfway through my workout, so we didnt overlap in the locker room. believe me, i showered and steamed slowly.
3. former number one, the guy who works at world clothing shop on 8th avenue, chelsea. very big, tall, hunky, slightly gamey. he's pretty intense looking, and i still get excited when i see him, but is not interested. loser.
no longer on the list: jason (actor). i'm over it, already.
would be on my list (behind #2) but is ineligible due to not going to my gym: bobby, from boston, a trick from april. i ran into him freakily on the train yesterday. he was giving me that heavy, calm, very intense look of lust i first saw on 9th avenue. he didnt recognize me. i did what i always do in this situation; quick doubletake before i smile and say "heey! what's up." i was nice and asked if he remembered who i was. he didnt really till we were talking; me asking about his dog, imitating his accent, etc. he was on his way to work, i to a coffee appointment with my friend sah. i told him i'd stop by his shop (in chelsea) later. he said 'good, honey' and left the train. he blew me a kiss. weird.
i stopped by later, and he was having an intense heart to heart with what sounded like a good friend. i said hi and left shortly after; he turned and gave that 'please come back later i wanted to chat' look. or maybe it was the 'please come home with me so i can fuck you again' look. i cant tell them apart anymore.
because i stupidly forgot the volume 2 of rememberence of things past i was reading when i went off on my little vacation, i had to purchase something on my trip to read (see previous entries regarding flight delays). events led me to the greenwich-village-centric american moderns. the exploration of casual intellectualism (new york habit), self-conscious celebrity status of the fringe, and indeterminate political life of it's stars gave rise to lots of parallel thoughts regarding artistic work on the web and is some of what gave rise to this very blog.
i picked up the new belle and sebastian album at bleeker records yesterday, and it rocks the world in their own very glasgow way. i also got an unexpected new single too. their songs are so sad.
oh, and i signed up for amazon's associate program. yes, i suckle the teat of mother capitalism.
coming back from brooklyn tonight, on the D train from the 7th Avenue Brooklyn station, the night of Brooklyn Pride, also the night of the Puerto Rican festival, seeing men and women with miniature rainbow flags behind one ear, seeing the flag of Puerto Rico behind the other, gave me that frisson of democracy that i haven't felt in so long, reminding me what i adore about new york city, its multi-headed, overlapping spectacle of shouting voices, sometimes a loud chorus inspiring human might.
Those who were reading the gym notebook and it's second page, i'm going to be making those entries here. Don't worry Jonno, i've decided not to include any more details of sexual episodes.
Gym2: i went once on my trip, in Austin. The place was huge, only 1 month old, and full of beautiful machines and weights. At least twice as big as my own gym. I went at about noon, and got a tour and a free workout. There were no people there when i started! That was weird; just the little minx in this huge room, above an office max and a starbuxx in a big building.
There was a very hunky latin trainer who kept passing me, smiling, looking, looking.
The locker room was extremely tiny, and there was NO STEAM ROOM. The tour made this out to be a "feature" (more room for weights and juice bar, and clothing shoppe). And there were only three showers, two less than back home. Very weird. The new locker room was extremely cruisy; the two or three guys getting ready in there kind of dropped what they were doing to stare at me. I tried to reciprocate, but they got spooked (straight acting types, i guess). My ego sufficiently boosted, i left. This would be a nice place to play, though.
My workouts in New Orleans consisted of biking all day in the quarter (see previous entry regarding hunky delivery men) and the occasional dip in the pool at the country club in the Marigny. Nuff said.
The other delay in my trip was getting home: evaluating my life from the safety of a courtyard or a pool deck and reaching some startling conclusions about my emotions, my career, my spirit. My last trip to the Big Easy had this effect too...
Austin: although it's rather small, and with relatively few urban attractions, there were several urban features to keep my attention when Phil and his posse couldnt play. And beyond this, it was a treat to see Phil in his natural habitat (overworked though he was), and to finally meet his dog, and his friends. This was especially so given the spectacular, extensive photo documentation that Phil has accured of his surroundings. My visit consisted largely in joining the web of photographic information together with what i observed in person. Yes, this kind of thing turns me on.
New Orleans: as i mentioned, within hours of arriving I'd seen several acquaintances made during the last visit. It's not a small-town feeling; rather it's like visiting a wide family of friends, known and unknown, spread out in an urban milieu made especially for it. I envy my NOLA friends for having this. I envy Richard the most in this regard: living there the longest means he knows what must be everyone you'd want to know, the consequences of which i only came to admire during this visit.
I had the advantage of staying ten days: plenty of time to meet new people and get around a little. By "get around a little" i mean "indecent sexual episodes, people who mildly stalk me, and following the Miller Light delivery stud on my bike during his morning Bourbon Street stops" (he couldve been a Colt Studios model).
I also got to see quite a bit of my baby jonno, although he had quite a bit to do. Deep down inside, i know that being in New York is not the same without him...
Bad news: since i've been back in nyc, the temperature hasnt gotten above 65, and it's rained the last 24 hours straight.
Good news: undressing in the locker room today, it was very apparent to others that i've a FIERCE tan, all over.
Bad news: unseasonable weather in the metro area means tan may fade extra fast.
Good news: saw Troy at the gym today. We have so much fun together, and today was extra cruizy at the gym. Yummy.
My trip to Austin, then to New Orleans, acrrued the theme of delay. Delay in getting to my destinations, delay getting to see my overworked friends Phil and Jonno, both of whom were swamped with excessive, unexpected work weeks). More on this tomorrow.
I'm back in nyc. Note time/date. My vacation is over, late.
The only time i pray to god is when i'm flying. Deep down, I believe in two things: in god (catholic upbringing i don't bother to combat anymore) and that air travel is completely unnatural. Forget the germy air you have to breath in airports and on the plane. Connecting flights were created to be missed, and when they're through Houston International, missing a flight will lead to tragedy and/or permanent emotional scars. My trip from NYC to Austin resulted in an overnight stay in Houston, and the trip back to NYC from New Orleans nearly turned out the same way. I spoke to god all the way to make the latter happen. Beyond this, the landing of a jet aircraft keeps my belief in an all-knowing, indifferent, yet occasionally persuaded entity very much alive. That and the delivery boy for the Nellie Deli on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter...
ps all work in this domain is copyright chad the minx.