Gay Bloggies

Answer 1: 4 years ago. [YIPEEE!]

Answer 2: Melanie Griffith. [YIPEEE!]

Answer 3: Sweden and Lebanon. [YIPEEE!]

Answer 4: 10. [WHOOPS!]

Answer 5: 3 years and 1 month. and happy birthday. [YIPEEE! & Thanks!]

Answer 6: Towleroad. [YIPEEE!]

Answer 7: My first guess is none. But Paris Hilton. I guess. I really don't have any bloody clue. I don't look at the women. [WHOOPS!]

Answer 8: Aussiebum. Sean Cody. Randy Blue. [WHOOPS! You left out the first part of the question!]

Answer 9: Just the 1. Break. [WHOOPS!]

Answer 10: [Name removed to protect the innocent]

i was asked to tell you about my most guilty pleasure. i dont think of myself as indulgent. so it was something i had to think. what the fuck is my most guilty pleasure.

baths. i think. would have to be my choice. even more so than dark chocolate. or sugar. period. masturbating. waching janice dickenson modeling agency. or playing god of war 2 while having my ass eaten. not even the sweet smoke of mary jane. gives me as much pleasure as soaking in a big tub full of hot. steamy. water. besides i don’t feel guilty when i do any of that. but baths. i don’t know why.

sigh.

and its a ritual. over the many years of bathing. ive discovered a recipe for a good bath. and while each time its ‘made’ i might add something new. or take something away. the end result tends to be the same. and the motions as well.

the tub is cleaned. an ice cube is placed on the thermostat to insure enough hot water. and a warm bathroom. and the bathtub is filled. with ardent. almost lustful waters. that beckon wantonly. i feel seduced at times.

a hot cup of green tea. black. occasionally its both. and sometimes i bring an amstel light. or 2. or some previously mentioned ganga.

and music. something to drown out the rest of the house. so i don’t hear my roommates coming home. their booted feet treading heavily on the stairs. with every step. guilt lashes me. but it fades into the warmth of the water.

a candle. or two. and some sea salt. or usually batherapy. a concoction of queen helene. to the waters. i dont like bubbles. they annoy me.

and dont forget the pumice stone. maybe that is the hidden guilty pleasure. punishing. i mean pumicing my feet at the end of the bath. feeling the scrap of the stone against my feet. and the finished product. soft. supple. size 13 feet.

and when i slip into the water. that first step. always a burn as the hot. sometimes searing. water hits my tender. unpictured. flesh. my body adjusts. or i adjust the water. and then im in. under it. covered in it. luxuriating in it. i feel like a calgon commercial but i hate that crap. becoming 1 with it. i lay in the water. reading. soaking. drinking. slipping. thinking. further. into. under. and further. away from reality. worries are washed a way with all my woes. and for 30 minutes. 45 maybe. im blessed if i get an hour. i have left reality as far behind as i can in this city. besides doing something illegal.

and why is it a guilty pleasure.

im quaker catholic. ive been guilty since i was born. guilt is what made me turn myself in. that which started my path down incarceration lane. and its guilty i feel when i take baths. guilty about using water. and taking up valuable bathroom time. is that crazy. or what. and while the guilt may build before hand.

it vanishes instantly. like an advocado bath ball from lush. as soon as i slip into those sultry. and steamy depths.

its bath of hail marys. and pass me the loofa.

im of 2 minds. there are many more minds in this brain of mine. but they decided to stay the fuck out to this particular discussion. actually. i don’t think im of 2 minds. that somewhere along the ‘kinsey’ scale of it might not be 2 minds. but more that somewhere along the ‘kinsey’ scale of nature. vs. nuture. im just to the left of the vs.

nature. vs. nurture? you ask.

i believe its nature. but i think nurture is a big factor in our developing homosexuality. and in eventually coming out. and believe a majority. if not all. homosexuals are born gay. we. and by we. i mean ‘the gays’. don’t come out waving rainbow flags. and singing ‘its raining men’. but i think the womb is where it all whappens. when the sperm hits that egg. wham. and bam. and its all downhill from there. to the wonderful world of gay.

oh. i wish it were that easy. i didn’t ‘officially’ come out of the closet until i was 20 years old. and after preparing for the worst. my mother simply stared me in the eyes. and said. ‘yes dear i know.’ but i know those who came out earlier. in their teens. or even younger. and know others who didn’t come out until much later in life. and sadly. those that still haven’t come out. and most of us come out when its ready for us. its not a rocket launch. all conditions don’t have to be right. but it packs about the same punch. at least to us. but eventually you realize you cant fit your square peg. in the circle hole.

its when nature. meets nurture. it’s the chemistry between nature. and nuture. and that meeting is different for each of us. the closet door opens at different times for every. single. 1. of us.

and while i believe certain environmental. and societal factors help. guide. or drag us into the world of gay. i don’t think playing with barbies. taking home economic classes. or watching reruns of ‘ellen’. will make you gay. but if you are doing those things. waving a rainbow flag. and singing ‘its raining men’. might be in your future.

but im no magic 8 ball.

its nature baby. i was born gay. so mother you can finally put to rest your guilt about making me gay. you can take credit for my obsessive compulsive. and attention deficit disorders. but you cant take credit for my homosexuality. im here. im queer. and you cant take that away from me.

i want to go back to bed.

i would be a felon. except my record has been expunged. erased. silenced. closed. what burglary?

residential burglary. i wasn’t thinking right. to say the least. the next day i gave back what i had taken. all i wanted was attention. just exactly whose attention i don’t know. but attention i got. they. the 2 i officially robbed. said i wasn’t sorry enough and pressed charges. and it was an election year so the district attorney chose to make an example out of me. and off to the big house i went. i broke my mothers heart that day.

hoo. dee. haa.

and while jail. and prison. were interesting. entertaining even.

i really loved boot camp.

sounds weird. ive said it a number of times in my head. and to others. but reading it is different. of course i say that now. years later. but at the time i don’t remember being upset. or at least as a good many of my fellow boot campers. to me it was fun.

yes. i said fun. and when it was time for me to leave. graduation day. i remember not wanting to leave. and yet the 200 or so of us were behind a fence. under 24 hour surveillance. and guard. armed and otherwise. even a few dogs. and of course ex military drill sergeants in their uniforms of black. their tassled wide brimmed hats of black. with matching boots. and sunglasses. every single officer had a pair. either on their face. or clipped somewhere on their person. their shiny surfaces reflecting the hot southern illinois sun.

i arrived in early april. spent an unsung. and uncelebrated 20th birthday in boot camp. there wasn’t time. and yet time was all any of us had. and there was so much to remember. the right way to walk. run. exercise. eat. speak. and everything required permission. when you passed them. ‘mam. by your leave mam.’ and going to the bathroom. ‘sir. permission to speak sir. permission to make a number 1 head call sir.’ a life of regiment regimen. sleeping. eating. shitting. pissing. physical training. pting for short. working. rinse. and repeat. for 4 months. 122 days.

speaking of rinsing. showering was fun. not. 10 men in the shower at a time. 5 on each side. at least the showers were hot. and we had soap. and usually at least 2 guards eyeing you. up and down. i mean watching for the duration of your 2 minute shower. and the towel wrapped walk back to the room.

and 1 night while he slept. i sucked. And licked the fingers of my bunkmate. carmello. and dreamed of the sleeping boys. i came out to him too before i left. he didn’t blink. either time.

and there are people i met. and experiences had. i thought id never forget. and it seems i havent. yet. there are another 5 pages of notes. after this. but that fodder is for another feeding.

after all. i want to keep you coming back for more. and more.

i am a man. a homebody. an artist. a wood rabbit. a writer. an intellectual stoner. a father. an enigma. an aries. a pessimistic optimist. a friend. a son. a sexy wonk. a consumer. a homosexual. a great kisser. a gippie/gippy. a romantic. a mommas boy. an idealist. a gardener. an older brother. a student. a knitter. an adventurer. a bitch. a sculptor. a jester. an obsessive compulsive. a bibliophile. a hiker. an innocent. a dork. a sun (and sin) enthusiast. a naturalist. a yogi. an excon. a cynic. a tease. an uncle. a lover. a teacher. a superhero. a geek. a devil. a dreamer. a saint. a sinner. a homebody. a walking contradiction. a procrastinator. a good deed doer. an individual. a firstborn. a fighter.

you know this. and a good deal more. at least you would if you read about a boy and his briefs. and if you don’t read my blog. there is still hope for you. fire. brimstone. and damnation can be avoided. unless you are into that kind of shit. but because youre reading this. ive at least grabbed your attention. whether by words. or flesh. or a combination of both.

i was born and raised in central illinois. and if you say it with a french accent it sounds much more exotic. the oldest of 4. i lived there until i just couldn’t take it any more. 23 years. and then moved to the big city. country mouse heads to the city. new york city. i gave myself 5 years. and ive been here 11 years this april. i have a love. like. hate. relationship with it. but i love my blog. and its 1 and a half years old. a mere baby. and was started to vent. entertain. inform. and bring a smile to the face of any 1 who happened by. and i will continue doing so even if i don’t win.

but it sure would be nice.