Mostly...
I tend not to be a man who complains of his weight. Mostly cause I don’t find myself bothered by it. There has never been a massive desire for me to lose weight. I like my body, mostly. Mostly...b There in lies the dilemma. While jerking off to beefcake men from titan a couple weeks ago I began to contemplate my body. So I was staring at myself in the mirror like Mary-Kate Olsen used to before she had to “recuperate” at a facility somewhere. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to lose weight and become muscle filled. I’ve always had a vague preference but now I have a desire! And, more to the point, a game plan. I can do 3 times a week, a facility at the college (free) that’s 15 minutes away. And a job that gives me time to do those sorts of things. So yeah, I am excited. I have to grab the 10:40 train. I missed the 9:40. That sucks. But I am coming to the city for pride!. Cricket is putting me up in home for the night. And then I am set. Tommorow I volunteer at Rivington house. That has me finish up my Trial period goals. And then I get collared. But there is a dilemma on the horizon. Things to talk about, and renewed fears. I don’t want to go into details, I know their reasons, and I respect and understand them. But putting them on here feels like an invasion on my part. I just feel less sure footed than before. They want me still. They tell me how much they want me. It makes me uneasy. I’m the addition. The update. The add on. I know that, I’m okay with that…And i still want them. Just...ya know. Issues. Pride. Pride. Pride. I’m gonna drown sweat or beer. This boy want’s cock. Oh and there’s a parade or something about politics. Kidding,…mostly TRAIN! Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 10:25 PM (0) comments

 
Boss weekend
So my best friend met my Sirs. She likes them, thinks that they are cool. This is all very good! But let’s get to the meat. It’s crazy, and it keeps getting crazier. These men are so important to me, and I want people I know to know them. Alli was up in Boston (still is), and I asked my Sirs if they would meet her. They consented to a brief meeting. It went well, they made snacks, sat on their front stoop and made conversation with my friend. All of us then went inside and talked a little bit more. Soon, though, it was time for Alli and to head out, Sir and Daddybear hugged her, and I then kneeled before them and got some rubs. The first 4 minutes after we left I was a nervous wreck, waiting for her verdict. But we already know what that was. She likes them. Excellent. I wish I had something deep to say but, really, I am just happy that someone I know knows them. That Alli has faces to my weekends in boston. Oh, and yesterday…Daddybear fucked me three times, only letting me cum once. He took the day off of work and spent a good portion of it with his cock inside me. He had me bent over the couch, me groaning softly feeling my pelvis grind into it. My red gym shorts were around my ankles and I swear I can smell them on that couch (they spend naked time on it sometimes). It was fun. But that’s not the big point. I’m beginning to feel more comfortable with certain fantasies that I had put off my plate. More or less, I had dismissed them from my play thoughts. It’s hard to describe them really, but mostly they are the one’s that let me feel vulnerable. Or they things that I think make me look stupid. It’s nice to feel that level of trust. It’s really nice to be able to be submissive to them to a point were I don’t really care how goofy or stupid I look. So long as they like it. Work in an hour! Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 2:07 PM (0) comments

 
wave to the jungle.
Sigh, I want to cum. I want to beat off. Can’t. I desire being a good boy more than I desire the immediate gratification of cuming. That, and I am on a bus going up to Boston, so the feasibility of it is difficult to say the least. So let’s get right to the bitching. I have a shit job. I mean, I like it, I help to feed the addiction of this fine nation. Also I’m good at it, and I like when I’m good at something (especially when people tell me I’m good at it). However, the job serve’s no greater purpose that helping people get coffee. That’s tough to get up for. But it’s so close, and what is 8 hours of a day? A lot, but I can deal, I am a weekend warrior it looks like. I can do that, 40 hours a week for the greater good of college. Starbucks is not my concern at the moment. Its beyond the ‘bucks that has me thinking. What if I feel the same way about my future job? What if I wake up in the morning, go to bed that night without having to think? Slave to the wage indeed. Something like 60% of American’s are in debt (it may be more). Most people don’t really like their jobs. Most people don’t really like their lives. The big divider? Money, people with more money are happier. The have done studies. I would like Starbucks a lot more if my paycheck were a lot bigger. But I want a little more than that. I want a job that I can help people with. And that got me thinking… My last job was EMT, I helped transport people to and from the hospital. And while I enjoyed it, it was not as thought prevoking as one might suspect (third watch is bull shit). It’s a lot more of the blood pressure taking, and the lungs listening than stopping bleeding and saving babies. But I though, and I thought, and I thought. I really want to become a lawyer. A friend of Kya’s got busted for possessing pot recently. The cops didn’t read her The Miranda Rights. But it’s two cops to her one self and friend. I could help with stuff like that. Not all the time mind you…but, pro bono work could be done. It’s beyond that though, I could help leather-folks, fight for rights. I could spend my days helping to design contract. Or Study international law, and then fly over-seas, designing wills, setting up trust funds. Or be a children’s advocate. Anything really, but I am leaning more towards business as that’s what my bachelor’s will be in (finance, or marketing). So what got this going? GirlFag. We were talking a couple nights ago, about the leather community. She and I have a lot of similar ideas. It’s nice to hear an echo in our fish-bowl conversations, and to vice versa, be an echo. However, I think she helped me out with some things. You see, I have been struggling with my leather essay. The Sirs hated it, found it to be ill conceived, and wanted me to research more, think more, ask more. Be better. That’s what they always want though. So, I’ve been trying. Gathering the resources I have, figuring out a point to it all. Trying to overhaul something that needs to be overhauled. Problem is sometimes my eyes are way too big. And sometimes I’m not focusing on the right things. Like I was writing though, Girlfag helped out a lot. It’s not that I don’t want things like IML to not exist. And it’s not that I want no one to know about leather, or for the community to be as tightlipped about it as it used to be. However, I wonder, if there is a better way. Networking is needed, more networking between the het, pan, bi, gay, lesbian community. And not the proper whipping techniques, or another s/m 101 seminar, but something like Pro-bono lawyers. Counselors, Therapists, information on good working places. Leather needs a public face, if only to allow it to have a private one. Now all I need to do is figure out how (if it’s possible) to support that, and then how to accomplish it. That is, if it isn’t already being attempted. And now onto sex… So, pride is coming up and my thoughts have turned to the many men I will be meeting. Last pride I wound up playing with enge the night before in my bedroom. This year it’s going to be me, (maybe) kin, and Cricket. And I have Sirs to call if I am going to do something fun. Which is kind of cool. At the moment, however, I am thinking about Daddybear and Sirs’ cocks. I didn’t get fucked the last time I was in boston (punishment). So I am sort of craving it. I never expected that really, but I miss them, and I miss the fucking. Right now, after 4 days of not cumming, I miss the fucking. And cuddling after, I like that a lot too. Take me! Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 12:04 PM (0) comments

 
Main-eish Ta-anah!
Forgive the title, it’s Hebrew, and, as with all Hebrew there are a thousand ways to spell it in English. Anyway, it’s from Passover (pesach, pessache) This weekend was a kind of eye opener for me. I messed around with kid-hop (now called cricket). We spent the day just sort of hanging out after. Saw the movie “super-size me.” Which was all pretty cool. And throughout the day we chatted about leather, s/m, the death of the bar, and what the hell is next? This has been a kind of recent recurring theme as of late. I just got off the phone with Bad-faggot who continued the conversation just five minutes ago. But first lets talk about sex with cricket. Now, one of the things I like about cricket is his honesty. We haven’t known each other all that long, but he is definitely a man who tells what he feels. There is very little filter on what he says (which is a lot like me, so I enjoy that). He had just come back from running, and after a quick call to Daddybear (for approval), Cricket and I began to hang out a bit. We got to wrestling (I won) and then nakedness. Yum. The rest of the day is a sort of blur of city stuff and checking out stores and such. But we got to talking about leather bars…and I stated how I thought that there should at least be a dress code for GMSMA, and especially one for The eagle. Cricket pointed out how that would serve my fetish more than anything. And upon examination, a lot of my desires run toward that. I would love the eagle to have a “people blackbird would sleep with” room. As of yet, that hasn’t happened (though Sir and Daddybear have, they call it their bedroom, but I know better). That leads us to all the hubbub. BadF points out that most of what we know of the “old-guard” varies greatly. There were a lot of different bike groups and many have rivalry with one another. No amount of history can every really be untainted. I have been wondering recently about that. What does old guard mean? What makes a person kinky? How far into Kinky does one have to be to be considered a member of the leather community we so frequently shelter ourselves as? And what do we get out of large public displays. I have issues with Christianity for several reasons, one of them being that part of the religion has a section on how you are doing gods work by converting people to Christianity. And my dilemma sometimes with groups like GMSMA comes from the attempt to entice new members. Everything is made to look sexy, and fun, and hot. Puppy play becomes a “light alternative to master/slave play” because we want people to thinks that is fun, and soft, and easy. No, no, you don’t have to think here, just come and give us 5 dollars, tell your friends, just place your body in this chair for headcount. And then we wonder why people don’t help out at events. Why presentations have people who don’t care about anything beyond the technique, and we ask ourselves “how can we improve this?” I wonder if we can. I wonder if we need to. Maybe we focus so frequently on sweeping change to the leather community that we forget the importance of our own lives. Let GMSMA debase something you like and consider more than what they do. Fuck it. Focus on your own family, let the parties outside rage. Because an out community means that you can enjoy a truly private life. Does that make sense? So why the big Hebrew-haha as the title? It’s all about the 4 sons. “The story of the Four Sons is also read at the Passover seder table. Each of the four sons symbolize a different type of Jewish person. One son is wise, another is simple (this son is regarded as simple because of his indifference and unconcern), still another is wicked, and the final one is very young in age, too young to inquire about Passover, and therefore silent. The wise son inquires about why the Jews practise the customs of Passover. Those assembled at the Passover seder table respond in unison, describing this son as wise, since he wants to know more about the Passover traditions of his people. The simple and indifferent son asks in more general terms what is all this he sees at the Passover seder table. Those at the Passover seder table respond by educating and reminding the simple and indifferent son about G-d's favors toward the Hebrews during the time of slavery in Egypt, and the importance of remembering and observing them, and remembering them with gratitude. The wicked son wants no part of the Passover traditions and asks why the Jewish people - other than him - practise the customs of Passover. Those at the Passover seder table respond by describing this son as wicked, since he thinks Passover customs are meant to be practised by other Jews, but not him. Finally, the young and silent son who does not know enough to inquire is simply told about the Passover story in accordance with the biblical command: "And thou shalt tell thy son in that day, saying: it is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt" This is where I am at. This is how all people come into leather, or any new experience. This is how one has to discuss things. Men who don’t know anything about it, need to be told before they can ask. Those who can ask, need to be answered. And those who feel angry, or bitter, need to be assured that they matter. Right now, I feel like there are a lot of Fifth sons (a concept introduced recently). “Unfortunately, in our time of confusion and spiritual bankruptcy, there is another kind of a Jewish child - a "fifth son", who is conspicuous by his absence from the Seder; the one who has no interest whatsoever in Torah and Mitzvoth ("commandment" in Hebrew), laws and customs; who is not even aware of the Seder-shel-Pesach ("The Passover Seder" in Hebrew), of the Exodus from Egypt and the subsequent Revelation at Sinai. A challenging and pertinent question is: What brought about this regretably all-too-common phenomenon of the "fifth son"? The "Fifth Son" is the result of an erroneous psychology and misguided policy on the part of some immigrants arriving in a new and strange environment. Finding themselves a small minority, and encountering social and economic difficulties, some parents had the mistaken notion, which they transmitted to their children, that the way to overcome these difficulties is to become quickly assimilated into the new environment by discarding the heritage of their forefathers and abandoning the Jewish way of life. Finding that this process leads to the discomfort of inner spiritual conflict, some parents resolved to spare their children this conflict altogether. They simply gave their children no Jewish education or training.” That’s history folks. Finding ourselves desiring to fit in leads to the dreaded fifth son. I still had sex this weekend. I get to see Sir’s next weekend. Life is good. Next post: Creating the Third Place, Starbucks and S/m. Greater explaination of SONS and the Seder can be found by clicking on this scentence. WOOHOOO SIRS SOON! Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 2:36 AM (0) comments

 
SMOOURAGASBOARD
Starbucks is crazy fun for any individual who like buff men. Problem is, there is no way to tell them that…one has to be happy with longingly oogling them. Anyway…small town life is taking some strange turns. I forget how driven some of my peers are, and I keep feeling a little bit in-adequate in comparison to some of them. It’s tough to describe to people who are not affiliated with youth, or with current youth anyway. Hell, it’s tough to describe no matter what. Basically a lot of my old school chums are now doing internships. One for howard Stern, another for a not for profit company. Some of them, are even getting paid and working for the big boys (financial planning companies and advertising firms). They have plans like “law school” or Masters in business. While I work at starbucks hoping that 7.50 for the next 2 years will be enough to earn 16,000 and get me through my last year of school (debt free even). And what if I never get an internship? What if my degree is worthless after 4 years? What if they outsource the thing I was trained for…what if starbucks is my future?! Not the last one so much, but you get the gist. Meanwhile, I ran into one the kids I had a crush on from highschool. I met him my junior year. He drove this big red ford explorer (the old, cool, version) and had samurai swords. He used to have cuts on him from various drunken nights, or random scuffles. He was a slight hick (from buffalo!), and he would blaze “cop killer” when he saw a police cruiser. He was dangerous, foolish, and nutty. And he would give me rides home when my dick of brother took the car and left me stranded. Now he has a beard, and likes his coffee Venti. And he wants me to call him. He’s straight. But I can fantasize, right? Oh “_____” why don’t we go skinny dipping, I should say sometime. Out! Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 3:05 PM (0) comments

 
Silver hedonism! Golden restraints.
I remember when I started this blog it felt like every other entry or so was me describing some form of sex act followed by a complaint of some kind. It’s become somewhat different. Slowly the thing expanded to complaints about my job, life, and it includes my musing, thoughts on some of the most random stuff, and the consistent ass kissing of my Sirs (they are SO COOL, so they deserve it). I was a bit crazy as this thing started, running from experience to experience with out much worry if I was going forward or backward. It was fun, crazy, hectic, and utterly stupid. Dan Savage wrote in one of his columns recently that maybe homosexuals could learn something from straight couples when it came to dating. He pointed out that they have so many rituals and courtship plans because their culture has existed (out in the open) for so many thousands of years. Basically he wanted to point out to some club-drug guy that maybe trying to date a guy directly after sleeping with him did not work as well as dinner first. At least that was my impression. It made me think of myself and my own introduction to leather. See, I always knew leather existed. I thought it was was gay men were before I knew any gay men. My first introduction to it was Police academy (the men dancing, and the guy with the garbage can lids guarding his naked body as he got shoved in). I once used oyster bar as a code for going out to a gay bar because of that movie. With net access anyone can discover their fetishes by the time they hit puberty. Not only discover them, but discover they are not alone in them. And with cable you can see your fetishes acted out by celebrities (if they are tame enough). There was no need for coaxing on someone else’s part to get me to get tied up for the first time. In fact I heard a lot more of “talk to me when your older.” However, for every 10 of those, you could find one “sure.” Most of my initial exploration came from the internet. But those are things to ponder some other time… Alli invited me out to a bar. No drinky for me, but old friends scream summer. Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 11:08 PM (0) comments

 
Starbucks boy
The coffee giant known as Starbucks has consented to hire me; believing me capable of serving their sizzling brew to the delightful patrons of Their ever-loving global Starbucks Corporation. I start on Tuesday. I’m not sure that I am excited. I’m more worried than anything. Barista is one of those jobs that is easy to hate. The customers can suck, your boss can be mean, and, well, you serve coffee, which screams MONOTANUS. But it’s 7.50 an hour, with room to grow, and hours that are nice. Oh, and I get free coffee, delicious, tasty coffee. More than anything at the moment I am excited to have a job that is local. My commute to Teching was about an hour and 15 both ways. Now it’s about 5 minutes. This leaves so much time to do stuff. I can hit the gym for one, blogging, volunteering at the local firehouse (yum), TNG, and helping out GMSMA with a website (maybe). It does come with an Uber-sad cost. Less time with SIRS. Since Starbucks corporation does not allow for one to do twelve hour work days (8 or less), one has to work diligently to reach 40 hours. That means 5 days a week which means that my trips to boston must now be contained within a weekend. Friday-Saturday-Sunday, and only the one full day of Saturday since I will arrive at like 8 on Fridays, and leave at 8 on Sundays; getting me to NYC at 12, and home at 2 am (I hope). And that’s the year ahead. Working hard to earn little, and not having as much vacation as I want, all the while pondering what the hell I’m doing. I want to find that cool job. You know, the job were can I show up love what I do, and then leave while the sun is still out. And one that lets me talk on the phone while I am there. And it would have cool people who worked there. Problem being…I don’t think I would by coffee from a place that was open from 12-4 and had all of it’s workers on the phone or talking to each-other. I can’t wait to have my college degree, but I am still frustrated and unsure of what I want to go for. Do I want to do marketing? Finance? Accounting? Which pays more? Which won’t I hate? How do I know what I will like in 3 years? I miss being a kid who didn’t have to work all that often. This is okay too, it’s summer in my town, there are all sorts of possibilities, and I haven’t screwed up my life yet. It’s just there is SO MUCH to decide, and so little time. And other times there is SO MUCH time and so little money. I mean I have 6 weeks, I could go to France if I had the cash. “every time God Closes a door he opens a window” “that’s so we’ll have something to jump out of” (saved) But back to regular life: Yesterday I was at the Yankee Game. I was working as an EMT because the ambulance company I work for has a special “entertainment” division that covers those games in case a fly ball should hit someone. I digress, I was at this game, and when I wasn’t watching the field I kept getting the eye from this guy in a Gotham Knights rugby Shirt. He would get up to use the bathroom and say hello as he passed. I would smile and nod his way when he went by. Finally I broke down and asked when there next game was. “oh, I quit” “oh?” “yeah, just got busy elsewhere” “hmmm” and then I went for the kill “ever get to the eagle?” “Yeah…” We exchanged numbers. I love it when that stuff works out. I think it’s the kill I seek more than the actual acts sometimes. Knowing that I could sleep around with some guy is sometimes all I need. Sometimes that is. After work that day (Thursday) I hit the gym my local gym (my college has a campus near my house that has one! It’s been awhile since I’ve worked out with any consistency, so I had a lot of questions for the trainer. He was really helpful, and really nice too, I had forgotten that about the suburbs. You can say hello to people on the street and they will respond with “how are you?” even if they don’t know you. The trouble with suburbs is this: There is little consideration of things outside the spectrum of normalcy that exists there. I can’t cruise up there. Catch somebody’s eyes in the city and you can figure out if they want you…catch someone’s eyes in the burbs and you can figure out if you know their sister, son, daughter, whatever. Oh well, life is otherwise good and so forth. New Job, Same great wonderful fantastic Sirs, and same college. Life is attaining an equilibrium. Weird. Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 8:53 PM (0) comments

 
Peter Pan Pondering
To my knowledge, most people haven’t read the actual book of Peter Pan. It’s the greatest trick of Disney, and the greatest proof of the power of films. Everyone thinks they know the story, but few actually do. We all have this Disney-fied version of the children’s tale. Something that’s been boiled down, simplified. It’s a soggy, wet drizzly kind of tale. The plot is basic and the moral is glib. The boy who never grows up, and the importance of being an adult. That’s not what pan was ever really about. The books is essentially an extension of the way that women were/are treated. Think about it…wendy is made become the mother of a bunch of children that she doesn’t want. Peter Pan becomes their father, all the while remaining a child. Wendy loses her childhood while peter pan can remain forever young no matter what he does. It’s totally ani-feminism It’s also a cautionary tale, and full of dips. Tinker bell dies, the nanny (dog nanny) dies, Wendy grows old, and watches her daughter fall for peter knowing that he will break her heart. It’s my favorite book from when I was a kid. There is nothing cynical about it, no surprise ending, no pop culture references, and there are pirates. How can you not love a book that has pirates? I am glad none of the movies capture the book totally. It’s about 4 bucks, and takes an afternoon to read. It’s something I consider to be the authoritative book on childhoods. This was a really good weekend. Perfection is a night of dancing that has you discovering the joy of hanging in a pack. Kin, Conc, and yours truly went to splash. A shameless dance bar that charges you 20 bucks to enter, and then feels okay with 7 bucks for a beer. Somehow I was handed vodka, and I then became a teenage school girl. Vodka, and red bull in fact. Which is messed up, cause your drunk, and wired. Of course, previous to this I was with Conc in some French fusion restaurant sipping blue things (you have to request water, otherwise they just give you alcohol). But it was fun. Deep talks between Conc and Kin ensued as I kissed a brooding New Jersey in-habitant. But at the end of the night Kin and I met a man from boston. We headed back to Kin’s place (ultra cool e-village pad). Talked a bit, Conc and I headed home, and spent the night snuggled up in his bed, while kin spent the night with our stranger. Sunday, was fun too…until I fucked up because I listened to my little friend mr. Penis. I don’t want to go into it. But it was foolish. Other than that…My current thoughts are about a family mystery. My grandmother and grand father took in a young gay man when my father was younger. The boy had been thrown out of his house and my grandparents took him in while he went to school. He eventually went on to do lighting on broadway. If he survived aids, and is still alive he would be 60…and most assuredly interesting to talk to. But where does one start? And why didn’t I know this sooner?! Mysteries are fun Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 8:26 AM (0) comments