… pretty little pictures 2 …

Since my post this morning about too much thinking (CLICK HERE TO READ) I spent the day taking care of the female parental unit. This involved hair being done, jewelery store for watch battery replacement, lunch being eaten, a Goodwill store being visited (I got a GREAT $2 sweater by the way), a visit to the nephrologist, a “quick” walk through the grocery store (45 minutes) for “I just need skim milk” (a cart FULL of items) and finally, a really slippery ride home. The snow had started. But, you know what, she called to make sure I had made it home okay. Gotta love it.

But it made for some tension and so I came home and did what I do entirely too much of – but I have to STOP ALL THAT THINKING – I spend a lot of time surfing. A lot. Pretty little pictures are the only thing able to STOP MY MIND. Or, at least, focus it on something else. Or, at least, introduce the possibility that perhaps an organ other than my brain might get a little exercise. So, here you go … I feel generous today.

My $2 Goodwill Sweater - 100% cotton!

My $2 Goodwill Sweater – 100% cotton!

I love my bargain sweater find. I walked in looking for a headboard – long story – and walked out with the 100% cotton sweater. I’ll need to return to the gym and sensible eating before I can wear horizontal stripes however. And then, this picture below. Because I have been thinking A LOT about what it is to be carried by another and/or carry another and what love means and the different kinds of love and relationships and intimacies and how much we probably miss by limiting ourselves to labels and definitions and shoulds and conventions.

Les Inondes de Tounis by Jean Blaise Villemsens, 1837

Les Inondes de Tounis by Jean Blaise Villemsens, 1837

Speaking of relationships and all the different kinds there are . . . I think MTV’s “TEEN WOLF” (returning January 6) does an amazing job of capturing the undercurrent of the zeitgeist and the way we marginalize one another and the ways in which we screw up relationships by – again – labeling and defining people by arbitrary patriarchal classist tropes and conventions. Which has NOTHING to do with what I was thinking when I saw this photo of the Carver Twins; Max and Charlie.

Charlie & Max Carver

Charlie & Max Carver

I’m going to stop talking now and let the pictures speak for themselves. Because, what’s the point of turning my brain off if I keep narrating the meant to be mindless, sensual journey?

gyllen run gyllenhaal jack off JoBros Gif 1 JoBros Gif 2

Bat mask is empty batman downtrodden batman_superman Batman-Stands-Alone Depressed-Batman Here's to Survival Jan 1 2014 January 25, 2013 fabulous Tired ZANDER_BAJA

I have this Batman complex going on, in case you didn’t know. And an Oz-Isherwood-ThinMan-Trouble With Angels-Sterek Teen Wolf sort of thing too.

scarecrowsingle man 5 single man teen wolf3 thinman

trouble with angels

And Joseph Gordon-Levitt thing …

gordon-levitt joseph

And a thing thing …

3 nudes drowning patriota twins richardson3 Sascha Kooienga Sparta Lovers weber a&f abercrombie-wrestling-shower weber a&f wrestling-underwater Yearbook-Stephen-Homotography-Sinclair-08

But I’m STILL an intellectual . . . right? Write.

adler and didion bloomsbury group bowles jane and paul Burroughs, William S capote didion didion didion2 edmund white city boy GilesLyttonStracheyVirginiaWoolfneS Hurston, Zora Neale isherwood bachardy parker Peter Orlovsky & Allen Ginsberg - photo by Richard Avedon 1963 proust on deathbed source getty museum Smith & Mapplethorpe smith, patti rimbaud shirt sondheim stephen tennessee williams verlaine & rimbaud waugh bridesheadrevisited wilde bosie real fictional woolf

Good-bye. I have home-made chili and cornbread (I made them) and a pile of books and the snow is falling and the best way not to think is to read so much that someone else is doing it for me . . . much love . . .

half-naked men, boners and popular posts … (not part of the new york chronicles) …

WordPress is selling ads on me. I wanted to be a writer admired and followed for my insight and introspection and emotional connection and empathy – but instead, seems like I’m being followed for my penis. What The Actual Fuck?

All the introspection the New York chronicling is bringing is – I am well aware – likely to lose me readers. This year-end shit all over the place – this year-end shit in which I do not indulge because time is an illusion – this year-end shit that caused me to check my most popular posts from 2013 just validates what my friend C told me on our New York trip:

“You get enough hits on your blog for WordPress to put ads on it – so, you must be doing something right. Although I’m pretty sure it’s the naked men and dicks getting you hits.”

Well, MAYBE. Because – according to my stats on this free WordPress account which is apparently doing well enough that WordPress feels free to sell ADS ON THE BLOG I’M WRITING (which makes me want to go on a diatribe about the number of times in my life my writing has been RIPPED OFF and other people have benefitted from it while I have NOT and I’m NOT just talking about monetarily you plagiarists and freely thieving borrowers and adapters.) the most popular posts of the past year have been:

5) “… …. …. …..” THIS UNTITLED ONE (CLICK HERE TO READ) from October 5, 2013 in which I was too fucked up to speak and tried to tell my story with just pictures – many of which were personal, but, a few of which were – as C calls them, “big dick pics” – including the one below. I cannot quite imagine how this entry achieved so many hits, and I don’t really WANT to know WHY. But it did.

charlie at 3big penisCharlie attitude

4) The next most popular was “Greatest Hits 2: Joe Jonas comes out … AGAIN” (CLICK HERE TO READ/SEE) from August. And, again, any mention of a Jonas Bro coming out does wonders for my hits and sprinkling the essay with the words “naked” and “JoBros naked” and including pictures . . . well, yeah. There it was (Is) again – the whole “big dick” theory thing.


3) Number 3 makes me feel a little better. It was from May 5 and was called “SMASH-ed again: 3 Steps To Acceptance” (CLICK HERE TO READ) and while some of the unkind-er (and more attentive) among you might assume this to have been about my increasingly frequent episodes of drunken-ness – BUT NO – it was about one of my favorite characters on the late, lamented NBC television show about making Broadway musicals – SMASH – being killed off. And then it launched into some lengthy philosophical introspection about loss and discovery and telling ourselves stories. I’d LIKE to pretend it was my deeply thoughtful life advice that got readers – but I know better.

kyle & jimmy gifkyle and jimmy 2Tom & Kyle

2) Speaks for itself … and was one of my SHORTEST posts of the year. From August it was “GREATEST HITS … Blues and Boners” (CLICK HERE TO READ) about … well … you can probably catch on without my explaining it but it had that SAME CALVIN KLEIN CLAD DICK that is in 3 of my top 5 including this and …

1) … the original post from April; “WORDS TO THE WISE” (CLICK HERE TO SEE/READ) –  in which the erect “big dick” wrapped in Calvin’s was posted along with, well, my words to the wise as follows:

I knew a man once who was obsessed with the size of his genitalia. Here’s what I have learned from having known him:


It is a genetic accident how big your dick is; it is a personal choice how big a dick you are.

I wonder if he’s learned this yet?

I still wonder. I, myself, have learned a lot about dick size this year in many different ways, both literal and metaphoric, and the PRIMARY lesson has been that if I work a big dick into my writing (or write a big dick into my working  or … not sure but somehow this should have been a better, clever-er sentence about working a big dick) I will get A LOT of hits.

The key is then to caress and finesse that big dick with some writing and HOPE somebody reads it and gives a damn about the words and thoughts and feelings and not just the dick. Which, when you get right down to it, is sort of the story of my life in a lot of ways . . . this life in which, here I am. Going.

Zeit-Bites: Who’s been sleeping in my bed? No one. Whose bed have I been sleeping in? EVERYONE’S.

Call me Goldilocks. Always sleeping in someone else’s bed. No, not like that. I mean house-sitting. And when I’m house-sitting I sit alone and sleep alone. Actually, I pretty much always sleep alone. When I’m in a bed with someone it isn’t usually – ever – about sleeping so much. In any event, the point is – was – somewhere – I have been sleeping in some pretty beautiful places – alone, of course – and wishing I had my OWN place like these to which I might some day invite someone – which is another long, sad story – but, the point is – I can’t invite people to OTHER people’s houses. So, I enjoy these nights in these rooms made from love – like these below:

benton-chase bath 1 benton-chase bath 3 benton-chase bed 2Yeah, Goldilocks indeed. Or, well, once upon a time I  might have been called that, when I had long locks and they were gold. Now, I keep my hair cropped short in a misguided and failed attempt to approach Anderson Cooper/Andy Cohen gay-zeit-status. Not going as well as I’d hoped. Perhaps it’s not the haircut but the television platform and personal trainer that make the man? I’ve been thinking a great deal about what it is that attracts people and what particular combination of things I am missing. For years I worried about my gaypeal being low because the only organ I had that was oversized was my brain. Not alone in that fear:

However, Patrick, you should maybe trick with a couple of guys, because it has been my experience the experience of a friend that tricking guys during moments of passion will frequently tell you – when their mouths are not full, or, semi-full anyway – that your balls are huge or your dick is thick or big when I my friend knows perfectly well that is not really the case. But, then again, that would be another documentary since Patrick is, it seems, straight. A label that I my friend can tell you from experience does not really apply as much as many purportedly heterosexual men would insist in public. And I am not alone in wondering why.

Speaking of popular words on gay-hookup sites, what the fuck? Having read a lot of posts on various sites I my friend has gotten disgusted with all the “isms” used to pre-filter responses. The admonitions of “No Blacks” or “No Fats” or “No Old Guys” or “Asians Only” or “8+ only” or – my his FAVORITE – “MASCULINE ONLY” or “STRAIGHT GUYS EXPERIMENTING ONLY” – and other equally ludicrous exercises in label-mania which extend to demands for qualifications hilariously unlikely to EVER be met from fellows RIDICULOUSLY un-situated to REQUEST such things – to outright, blatant ageist, racist, bodyist, homophobic, self-hating bullshit – so vile and so foul it has made me my friend abandon the sites – even as a source of amusement.

Maybe I’m on the wrong sites?

Here’s Kenneth Walsh’s (my pretend buddy) article about Grindr vs Jack’d (CLICK HERE) and here’s the article at the Fortune site to which he linked about this new hook-up app (CLICK HERE). And here is the Jack’d site (CLICK HERE).

Goldilocks . . . once upon a time

Goldilocks . . . once upon a time

So, where was I and why did I write this? Oh, right, I’m Golidlocks-ing, sleeping around – ALONE – in other people’s homes and burnt out by the quest for company and affection in which I have my friend has been engaged for the past while. I wonder if I’d known when I was more Golidlocks what I know now – what I might have done differently? But, that’s not REALLY the question, is it? No. The question bothering me is what do I do now? What does “alone” really mean? Because in some very fundamental, basic ways I have been “alone” for all of my life. There is no one now and there has been no one for a very long time with whom I could share the “most” of me, the “least” of me, the “best” of me, and the “worst” of me – let alone the “short” and the “thick” of me. And for years, I was deluded and deceived (for which I have only myself to thank) into thinking I could share parts of me, could share my dreams, could believe my back was had  – if not rubbed – because, let’s face it, I’ve always been the one doing the rubbing. But if they did have my back, it was only because they wanted unfettered access when it came time to stab me in it. Still have the scars.

Enough. Blah blah blah with the self pitying shit, Goldilocks. Time to find what I want for me and what I want is someone who can share with me my most least best worst short and thick without ism’s or ist’s and DAMMIT TO HELL I want no beds or hearts too hard too soft or too anything else BUT INSTEAD FOR ONCE IN MY FUCKING LIFE LET ME HAVE SOMETHING “JUST RIGHT”.

Happy weekend.