the further adventures of me!
So much to type, so little time. Sirs are at IML and i miss the ever so terribly. I am reading Peter Pan, and it is brilliant. Last night i got drunk and went dancing, and there is a call log to my Sirs... but i don't re,e,ber much of the conversation. I think i left a message. It was so scool, me Conc, and Kin, like a trio of fun. This might work! sigh, still miss Sirs Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 12:31 PM (0) comments

 
What color is your rainbow?
I title my blogs before I start writing them or, even know what the hell I am going to be writing about. Which it why many of the titles don’t link up, but some do, and that’s called magic. These past 5 days have been so amazing, it really feels like I am growing into the boy they want me to be. Maybe it’s that we are getting comfortable with each other, able to anticipate who needs what, and what I can’t do. But, it really feels like I’m getting the hang of things. Like when someone buys (or makes) you a sweater that’s too big. So you throw it in the back of your closet, and one day you see it there, and try it on, and it fits perfectly. Like it was just waiting for you to come along. That’s what it feels like. Of course, this by no means says that I am perfect, nor that everything runs smoothly. There are little things that I forget, and some things that I didn’t get done. For instance, I keep forgetting to switch the bath tub nozzle back to “bath” after I take a shower. I kept sleeping in, not getting up first to make Sirs breakfast (I sleep so well there, that I am a rock sometimes). I melted a measuring cup, and broke a glass, and made Cous-Cous into something more like “Jell-O” than rice. Also, last night I was a bit off the walls (nervous about going home). However, I made some good chicken, kept the house clean, got my Sirs lunch made. I made sure that the laundry was picked up, and the dry cleaning. As well as helping out a friend of Sir and Daddybear’s with his computer. I drank Sirs piss twice, no complaint, and to be honest, I haven’t desired to complain. It’s asked of me, and I want to comply. I remember when I met them that I complained when He asked it of me; I coughed up half of it, feeling like I couldn’t swallow. Sir told me after that first time that I would ask for it, one day. I don’t think I’m there yet. I certainly don’t crave it the way that Bbro does. Yet, there is a part of me that realizes how much Sir likes that and, that part is more than willing. I just haven’t found that sweater yet. I also confessed to Them I still worry that They are going to go away, and I am still not sure why. Sir told me that I’m good for Him, and that felt really good, I like the idea of being helpful to Them. I just love Them, I really do. I love being with Them, being near Them, being Theirs’. It feels good, and I feel well. They keep telling me I’m a good person, and I’m a good boy, and that Their proud of me. I’m starting to believe it. I wish that everyone could have that experience. To meet some amazing people who really care about them. That anyone could understand the joy that subservience can bring. Or even the reverse, that everyone could understand the beauty of domination. Not the over-bearing asshole or wimpy geek, that are so often created as a parody of our relations. But the nurturing parent angle, the firm hand that pushes, and pries in an attempt to encourage. The teacher-student identity that we call Sir-boy. The mixture of respect, desire and love that forms such cohesive bonds. But I’m selfish. I want them all to myself, or at least as much of them as I can get. Maybe that just goes back to the whole worrying about them going away thing. Perhaps as I become more sure of my place I’ll stop feeling that way. And helping others really does bring them joy. It’s fun to see this road ahead, it’s a bit long, and clearly not smooth, but it’s mine to walk and that is exciting. Glad it’s not alone. Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 6:58 PM (0) comments

 
Road Triply
I’m in a car on my way to Boston. Unbeknownst to me, my Sirs came into the city last night. It’s really nice just being with them, I must have spent like 10 minutes kneeling and hugging Daddybear around the waist. I would have done the same with Sir, but he seemed to be busy with getting some leather of his prepped from IML. So last night I got an e-mail from Sir telling me I had to pick up something for him from one of the leather shops in the city. When I came into the shop, there he and Daddybear were! Granted it sucks that I didn’t know they were in the city the night before, but seeing them is just so nice. And I imagine that they wanted some time alone in the city, that and I was working, so seeing them would have been tough anyway. Right now they are playing Cher as the Mustang they rented hit’s 70, Sir and Daddybear have their sunglasses on and I am crammed into the back seat. It feels good. Home is still weird for me, I feel like I am walking on eggshells. They know I’m there, I know they know. We talk, and there are conversations…conversations like “we should get out of Iraq” “yes, we should.” And on Tuesday they gave me a list of “house rules” that inform of things I have known since I was 10. It feels sort of condescending. I am dealing though. I guess it just feels like its going to suck, more that it is actually sucking. Meanwhile, Kin and I spent an interesting night at the eagle this past weekend. It basically ended with us and two others pissing on him in some alley. A very nice way to end my time in NYC. Specs was there earlier in the evening, but I am more or less over it. He’s cool hang with so that’s nice, and he’s hot and fun, but no real need on my part to do fawning. Ahhh, the cool breeze, hot Sirs, and a content boy. I’m, thinking it’s all going to work out. Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 6:17 PM (0) comments

 
Home again, jigety jig
Christ this sucks. I don't want to be home, i don't want to call this home. I'm feeling like i am sinking into depression. it just sucks. Worse yet, on the 17th i was moving and found out a kid i used to know killed himself. Got drunk after night with his mother on her birthday and flung himself out the window of their manhattan apartment. sound familiar? At therapy today i realized that i have known 4 kids who have died. at 20 the figure is a hire than most people. Sigh, it's too sunny out to start getting mopey. I like summer, summer should be happy. I want to postpone this for until winter. I see my Sirs this thursday. i'm normally way more excited. But i find myself in the grips of suckage. I know it's home, but do i have to call it that? because i don't want to Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 11:10 PM (0) comments

 
More blog!
Almost a year. Insane, Isn’t it? A lot of craziness, and a lot of fun. Something new happened tonight I discovered what a Tiff is. A tiff is when you have an argument with your Sirs, understanding that you can’t win as your argument is something like “I’m horny and more than willing to be chopped up into small meat patties so I can have sex with two men who’s images I find attractive on the internet” It’s not my strongest argument. A tiff is having the phone call end with them saying “this conversation is over” only to call back with “your still not playing with them, but We want you to know We are not angry and that We care about you” It’s so hard to feel disgruntled when putting on their collar still makes you squeal (I had to take it off for work). I’m still writing my article. I want it to be really good, and I think it’s come around. The trick is to make myself not sound bitter. Because I’m not, but bitter is so easy to write. I’ve basically come up with 10 ways for anyone to improve their local leather community. In not any particular order at the moment, and the actual list will explain this better. 1) When you go out to a bar, call some of your friends. 2) Pass out your e-mail address as much as possible 3) Introduce friends of yours to each other 4) Never say never 5) Attempt to be someone you would look up to 6) Discover yourself before attempting to discover someone else 7) Buy a book, read it, and then give it away 8) Decide if your into leather sex or leather lifestyle 9) Don’t do crystal 10) Be honest I’m only really sure about 5 though. Anyway, I am reading this book that my Sirs gave me for a bit. I can tell I like it cause all I want to do is highlight it and write my thoughts all over the pages. It’s called the alchemist. It’s nifty. Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 2:45 AM (0) comments

 
Arc
Kin and I have been hanging out a whole bunch…it’s pretty cool, I don’t think I’ve ever had the experience that he and I are having in the bars. I find someone hot, he finds them hot, and he’s my age! Me and him talking about MTV, and discussing some underground band, or rummaging in china town for the most violent movies we can find… “this is the one with the 7th graders killing each other right?” “yeah!” “and only 7 bucks!” “totally a deal.” And how it doesn’t feel weird talk about my Sirs in front of him? Oh yeah, I like that. But the best part? He’s a dirty dirty slut. Seriously, it makes me proud. I have played no great role in his sluttiness, its mostly driven by his desire to learn. And to explore. And he’s neurotic as all get out. refusing to move a couch on principal. We are well matched for conversations. Like this past Sunday, me, him, and a mutual friend are in the Hudson river park, discussing giving head. At some point the conversation leads to giving head in a rest-room. When we notice this father and his son…they get up, the kid looking at us…and the father yells “Thanks a lot guys! (angrily)” and we giggle for about 4 minutes, late using the story as bar room fodder. It’s just so foreign to me, to hang out with someone my age and find all of my life acceptable to them. More over, some one who wants to know more, and tell me more, and just hang with. It’s so cool. Now, next Sunday, I am going to be trying to drag him out, but his friends in town, so no huge planning, mostly I am just excited to be making out in bars again (how I plan to spend my final days in NYC). So, I took a little hiatus, sorry about that, lots of school work, little sleep. But I am in boston. It’s funny, I don’t have a room here, no change of clothes, no practical shoes, or fancy belts, only one type of acne cream, and I don’t even have a bed (just some well placed couch cushions at the moment). But it feels so home-y. I made dinner tonight for my Sirs and Bbro, it was nice, I then cleaned up. We haven’t done a whole set of scenes recently, which I’m missing a bit…but it’s been busy. And I’m sort of just happy to be here. Content, snuggled, and warm. Is it respect or desire that drives my feelings for them? Does it matter? Nope. I’m feeling all philosophical, but “what drives you is not as important as where it drives you.” An old note from Alli. I’m learning patience with myself. I’m beginning to recognize that every couple weeks I will lose my mind, that I may never be a person who can think linear. That I will jump from one task to imagining the next one (I’m already thinking about law school, maybe). However, I’m also seeing that this is okay. That so long as you can finish the task, you can day dream. On an off note… I read, Guy Baldwin’s essay, and I have to say I find myself disagreeing. Which I’m trying not to, cause I don’t have the experience he does. Nor half the travel, nor have the connections. Not even an 8th of them for that matter. But I think I know more that him on one subject. Youth and leather. So, I’m writing a blog on that, trying to do some research for it, and relate it to my recent experience at the Aids Hospice that Sirs are having me volunteer at. Let me explain some things from that…(hint at what my feelings on the pervo writing are) HIV sucks. It sucks for you to get, it sucks for you to give. There is nothing fabulous about HIV. You don’t die, but, eventually, everything inside you does. First, your liver may shut down…no drinky for you. More likely you get Diabetes. Then you get the joy or insulin, or worse, amputation. You don’t have the ability to wipe your own asshole. So you have it done maybe 3 times a day, by a bitter and angry nurse who will make it as dehumanizing as possible. And you will not be happy. There is nothing radical, hot, or amazingly new about bare backing, or getting HIV to make your life easier. Gay men have been fucking up their lives for years. Random, miscellaneous sex is anything but new. You want to be radical? You really do? Hold out. have something special you can do with someone special. Be one of those guys who says “sorry, I don’t play with tina’d guys” or “I only fuck with a condom” or “sorry, I would like to know you better.” I mean, fuck, do you think that there’s something noble about not using a condom? Something intensely risqué? What is it, explain that to me… Daddybear fucks me with a condom, Sir fucks me with a condom…and when he does play as a bottom, he has them use a condom. That says something way more important to me. It says, “I care about you” But, maybe I’m wrong…I’ll think about this all some more…then get back to it. Until then, a quote: I wished the world was flat like the old days, then I could travel just by folding a map. Album you need to own even if you are deaf: Death cab for cutie Transatlanticsm Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 11:00 PM (0) comments

 
CAFFINE
I LOVE YOU CAFFINE I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH>>>>> AND I HATE TESTS and FINALS OH AND I LOVE CAPS TOO MMMMM I HAVENT"S SHOWERED TODAY! WEEEEEEEEEEE sleeping naked! Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 2:50 AM (0) comments

 
A letter to my parents
Dear Mother, Father, Let me dispense with the courtesy normaly extended in letters. I will not be asking how you are. I will not be pondering what you have been up to. And I don’t plan on hoping this letter finds you well. I don’t really care. I want to be clear, I am bitter, angry, and annoyed with you. I wish I could write this letter from some moralistic high point. That I could look down upon with eyes that didn’t squint and mouth that wouldn’t sneer. I wish that this letter was an exercise in calm, cool-headedness. I would so desire to be writing this 10 years in the future. So far ahead in time that I could ignore on the meaningless stuff. I am will be trying to ignore all the meaningless stuff as this letter goes along, but I am sure some of it will crop up. I don’t hate you. It’s too simple to hate you, too easy, and I don’t want my life to be that easy anymore. You both continue to serve as a reminder to me that one doesn’t HAVE to love their parents. But that would be digressing (I do that a whole lot)…I don’t hate you, I don’t love you. So what do I feel for/toward you? I cannot pretend to be ambivalent toward you, I wish I was though. I am angry, and frustrated with you both. I am upset, and confused by you. Mostly, I’m just tired of you two. I’m tired of hearing you tell me you love me. I’m tired of fighting over what appropriate behavior. I am tired of wanting to be someone else to please you. I am tired of not feeling good about myself around you. More over, I am tired of having a bad evening because of you. I am tired of obsessing over something small you said. And I’m tired of feeling crazy because, I do that. I’m angry that you tell me your excited about my A in math this semester. I am angry because that doesn’t change anything for you. I am frustrated that I can’t seem to drive it into your head that telling another human being I am gay doesn’t mean I am “flaunting my sexuality.” I am confused at how you can claim to not have an issue with me being gay, and then tell me to not tell anyone about it. I am not, and will not be a secret. You should be content that I haven’t explained the bruises I had last summer. And I am scared. I’m scared that I won’t have you in my life, I’m scared that you will never change. I scared that this is how it will always be, that as I get older you will become MY secret. I worry that I will never invite you to come over, that this whole thing between us isn’t a phase. I’m scared that you won’t be in my life because, frankly, after the money runs out, I don’t think I want you in it. I worry that you’re right. That all the criticisms, the shame, the fear that you both have…I worry that you’re justified. But, you want to know what I worry about most? You are supposed to be the ones to know me best. I’ve known you longer than anyone else. The thing I worry about most is that when you say you love me, that that’s really love. That it is what all love becomes over time. And that makes me sad. Here is how this letter ends. I am not a big fan of ultimatums, and I don’t plan on becoming one. Mostly because I don’t know how I will feel on any given day. But, I want this to be an ultimatum. Tonight, Father, you asked me to stop calling you Father, cause it sounded too formal. I will stop calling you Father, when I believe you’re a dad. When hanging out with you for a day makes me feel good at the end of it. When one of your critics on my life comes with an offer for improvement. When I miss seeing you. That’s when I will call you Dad, okay Father? Same goes for you Mother. I will never insult you, I will not be disrespectful, I’m too good for that…but I will never be loving. I’m too good for that also. And now for the ultimatum: If I continue to feel bad about my lifestyle choices when I am home. I won’t come home. And I won’t let home come to me…ever. I’m not perfect, I won’t pretend to be. But I won’t let you make me feel flawed. I’m not going to send this letter to you. I don’t see a point to it. But I’m gonna keep my ultimatum. And I’m gone keep my promise. Who are all those people?
- posted by G @ 11:08 PM (0) comments