Back at it again.

I have been away too long. I have a lot more to discuss. Very soon, I will return to tell you of my adventures abroad, and about my Austro-Hungarian 4 Way.

The R Word

My friend Javier derailed a President's Day Threeway with a conversation about race. I had such high hopes, too. A case of Sam was on ice, bath towels were fluffed, and bottles of hand sanitizer were discreetly placed everywhere in my fabulously decorated Hollywood apartment. I was ready for company. Javier refused to participate in this group because when I suggested our third guy should be my buddy (who's last name is Wu) it did not sit well with him. Javier put his foot down and loudly declared, "No no, if i'm going to be there, absolutely NO Blacks or Chinese."

If we compartmentalize all of our sexual activity into do and don't lists, we are operating on a slippery slope, because we all know that what turns us on sexually is difficult to regulate or explain. However, "No Blacks or Chinese" seemed no different than hanging a sign on the front door of an establishment to prohibit certain cultures from entering. Up until last week, Javier worked as a busboy at Ketchup in Sunset Plaza, but he doesn't speak much English, so things are difficult for him.

Adversity should equal fewer sexual restrictions, or at least teach us not to say unkind things. I uninvited Javier and purposely found a Filipino guy, to make sure he had a great time on behalf of all gay men from all walks of life.

I was more than happy to restore balance to the Universe in this fashion. His name was Patricio, and he was absolutely delightful.

Anonymous Sex in the Bushes

Sometimes, anonymous sex weirds me out if I don't know a person and the first thing I do is have sex with him. So often, he's either a real man or a big pussy, and an unpleasant surprise at a critical moment may leave behind a bad taste. Does anybody like surprises? The anticipation of such puts me on edge, and I lose steam much too quickly for either of us to enjoy things.

Lately, anonymous sex is just bad sex, and I'm having enough bad sex with people I already know.

THICK crust

Well, it seems as though delivery guys here in LA aren't the same as the ones I'm familiar with from watching pornos. What was I just thinking? How did I just let an opportunity like this pass me by? The guy was smiley and hairy, and he was overzealous and overt but for some reason, I missed his hints. I guess I could have scored a side of head with my Pizza, but I only realized afterwards that when he asked "so what clubs do you go to?" He was trying to find out if I was gay. Well I don't really go out much and lately, I'm kind of a homebody, so his gaydar ping test and all of my allure were tanked by naiivete. He really did have a nice smile.

#1: Theodore is Definitely not a Whore.

In the face of the Same Sex Marriage Debate, one has to realize that not every gay guy out there operates under the assumption that it is healthy for two males to behave the same way a male/female pair behaves.

Many people attach significance to sexuality as if it is a gift to the partner to strengthen a committment, and for women, to raise a family. White wedding dresses, chastity, purity, Immaculate Mary, etc...

Gay guys do not have sex with one another in order to procreate, therefore following this paradigm will lead us down sketchy emotional paths which dilute our individuality and defy the base masculine idea behind our orgasm, which, in many cases, amounts to a simple getting of our rocks off so that we can manifest our creativity into something which serves as our gift to the Universe. There are many options, and same-sex happiness ideals should not be the same as those of a heterosexual relationship. That is like comparing apples and oranges.

I'm always weary of guys who are preoccupied with finding a husband asap, or those who have a list of rules and regulations. Perhaps these are shallow pursuits, and these guys place too much emphasis on illogical things they THINK they need in order to be happy. All I need to be happy is a best friend and so sometimes I clash with guys who divulge their list of relationship chores a bit too early.

Mr. Right. Knowing full well that most of us will drop our trousers in 10 seconds or less for the meat of someone altogether wrong-but-hot, we shouldn't cling to the centuries-old, heterosexual trend of looking for Mr. Right. We should instead look for our best friend, and endeavor to a relationship consisting of something completely mutual, which makes us both wholly enriched.

In God We Trust

Some of us may not practice a religion, but we can still fall into an ubiquitous, middle class, pedestrian, non-sustainable way of thinking, invented here in the USA. Here, we print IN GOD WE TRUST on our money, and DON'T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF on bumper stickers and tea bags. Nobody pays attention to either, but empty platitudes are what help us sleep at night.

There's middle class divorce, a middle class re-marriage, a middle class pension and middle class death, and middle class burial in an affordable coffin in a non denominational cemetary, just in CASE the myth of God really does exist, and just in case your obedience to his sandals makes him happy enough to reward you once you die. Marijuana is bad, but Wellbutrin, Massengil, and Viagra can stay.

God in heaven is mighty, and the obedient men live on Earth! A CEO in a corner office who can fuck millions of people in the ass bareback, will escape with a well-timed severance, and subsequent relocation to Capri. Lowly corporate minions toil below, rewarded with a 50 cent raise each July, and a dwindling Christmas Bonus.

Addicted to religion instead of facts, the USA co-opted Christmas around the same time Madelyn Murray O'Hare was found buried alive. This new international adaptation of the Happy December Holidays now includes all forms of worship at TARGET: Kwaanza, Hanukkah and Christmas. Catholic, Hindu, Atheist, Jain, Buddhist, Baptist or Jew. Each one brims with superstition and science fiction.

"Those altar boys must have been lying! Come now, the Pope is infallable!" "I will be ready to marry by 32, fatter than a house by 42 and out of debt by 50, just in time for Lipitor and a 3way by-pass." "Circumcize my dirty little boy babies!" "I love Walmart because it is cheap and I buy lots of shit made by slaves who have absolutely none of my regards except that their blood, sweat, and tears keep my cellulite covered on cold winter nights where I set my thermostat below 60 so that I can lower my gas bills in support of the War on Terrorism, shown on the news each night, well edited, by Disney." "FREEDOM IS NOT FREE!" (Although it it can be made Fat Free for those with dietary restrictions.)

Americans invented an endless vaccuum of conformity and self-loathing from which, an entire Planet symbiotically operates. In God we trust now extends to the Universe. Now we're forced to pretend we're Canadian, should we ever wish to travel abroad without getting spat on.

The Christmas Fist

Santa's Claws paid a visit to my anus again this year, and I was just as randy as last year when Daddy Santa and I first began a Christmas tradition. Tonight, there were four people in attendance, and a good time was had by all. Someone even brought an apple strudel.

Twenty-One is still too young.

I knew that things could never work out between us, simply because our first dinner date was at the Olive Garden in Westwood. Authentic Italian Meals watered down for the American Palate, the promise of which, unleashes all things mediocre.

Plastic Ranch dressing, plastic flavored pasta preceded tawdry sex, wherein the agespan was 15 years--my largest stretch yet. A 21 year-old boy has much in store, on the way to becoming a 35 year-old. The evening grinded to a halt. I changed the sheets for this? I shaved my head for this?

Maybe I just haven't found the right 21 year-old.

#2: The Blame Game

i just don't know what to do. the minute things get serious with any particular guy, i start scammin on other guys, gettin all boned up and sad about so many other HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT guys that i can't have anymore because i'm with someone else.

i feel my behavior is deplorable, but i think I can place the blame on America, for turning me into a greedy capatalist, who plays the love market with no remorse.

This Is Not A Halloween Costume

Last night, while trying on clothes in my apartment, I put on my Lucky Hendrix jeans, but underneath, instead of boxers, I used my black leather jockstrap.

The look both flattered and excited me, so I wore it out in public today, paired up with a tight fitting t-shirt, and sneaks. And people treated me differently. It seemed like only best in everybody came out today, and I wonder if it was the outfit. It almost made me feel like a pornstar, probably because wherever I went, people stared at my crotch.

I enjoy making a salesperson or waiter or MILF on an elevator swoon with my good manners, polite demeanor and striking blue eyes, but today, I think it was my crotch making people swoon.

Tomorrow, I will try another pair of my Lucky’s with the leather jockstrap and on top I’ll wear a flannel shirt unbuttoned to show chest hair. I will also accessorize with my Rayban Aviators. I will also roll up sleeves to expose the forearms, which are covered in dark swirls of hair. I have been wearing a handlebar moustache. I workout regularly, and will continue to shave my head.

What is happening to me? This is very hot.