I still have a few things to do before I head out to Lazy Bear tomorrow morning, but I can deal with them then. Tired now and going to sleep.
Oh, yeah, click here to see my ad for the Hairrison Street Fair program.
Trey (arkanjil) recommended this: http://whitecrane.typepad.com/journal/2006/07/don_kilhefner_g.html
WHY DO GAY ADULTS MATTER?
Adults fulfill many important roles in the gay village. Here I will discuss three of those vital roles—blessing the gifts of the youth, providing mentoring to young men, and tending to the general material welfare of the village or tribe.
The poet Robert Bly once remarked that any man who is not blessing young men is cursing them. There are serious consequences in the gay community when there are no elders and adults present blessing the young. The most important is that youth gets disoriented and lost. Parents rarely do the blessing these days because they are hardly ever around anymore due to the consumer economy and credit card slavery. Moreover parents are often clueless because they never had their own gifts acknowledged. For most youth today the babysitter is the television set, the playmate is the video game, and the mentor is the computer—none of which will bless his gifts or even give a hill of beans about them. Young people cannot see their own genius and generally think they are rather dumb no matter how arrogant they act in public. The phrase I hear most often from the young gay men with whom I work is variations of: “I’m really stupid, aren’t I.� Remember, youth has little inner authority; for them all authority is external—parents, teachers, priests. Possessing inner authority is usually a hallmark of becoming an adult. If adults are not present helping them develop that inner authority, it may never happen, and their lives may truly be divided into younger gay and older gay with nothing in between. Our community will be impoverished as a result.
The way it works is that some adult whom the youth respects and trusts must acknowledge, name, and bless his gift (s) repeatedly. The major turning point of my life happened when I was in the 8th grade and it involved a blessing of my genius (from the Arabic word geni meaning “spirit�). I had planned to drop out of school in the end of the 8th grade to become a carpenter since to my 13 year old, pubescent-fevered brain the sexiest men seemed to be carpenters. One day in Social Studies class we were working on an assignment in class and my teacher, Mrs. Eula Mae Kline, was walking around helping the students. When she got to me she put her arm around me in a very loving way and whispered in my ear: “You know Donnie you are a very smart boy, very smart, and if you did your homework you would get nothing but A’s on your report card.� At the time I was getting C’s, D’s and F’s. No one ever said that to me before. I thought I was stupid. It turned out she saw something in me. Her blessing of one of my gifts changed the course of my life I was right though about the carpenters.
Thanks to every one who played Everyone’s Favorite Online Collaborative Poetry Game™, Exquisite Corpse: Thom(413), wet_in_sf, Gryphon(s_hole), charliebearnj, onethsndwords, Dennis(atl), Drew (bootedintexas), Ed (darkphuque), Steve (zbear20).
The ivory tower reaches toward the sky,
And those beneath it wonder why
It’s crumbling as we watch, “Ow, my eye”
its ruins failed, its ramparts crushed
But still its essence reaching, hushed
Hazy sunlight revealing age
Of tenured savants fading from the page
Wondering about the savants that first dried the ink,
Who are they, I thought…with a one eyed wink
Those intellects who disappear beyond the brink
Up Your Alley Sunday started out like any Sunday for me – an 11am client. From there, I changed into my royal blue jockstrap, scarlet cliff keen singlet, and headed off to the fair.
My first stop was at this vendor of paddles, and I purchased a beautiful chestnut paddle that fit comfortably in my hand. If my experience at last year’s Folsom Street Fair is any indication, I knew I’d be paddling ass all day, and indeed, I had people come up to me and offer their tender gluteal flesh for my hardwood ministration. I told everyone that they’d receive one swat on each cheek, so their chi would be balanced. There were a few people for whom the single swat wasn’t enough, and two guys in particular who came back three or four times for more.
Also during the day, I ran into several people I know from LiveJournal and elsewhere. I tried unsucessfully to get the attention of Connor (ubermunkey) but he’s deaf even when called to loudly! And then the boys were clamoring for more swats, and what’s a bear to do?
A couple of other purchases were made – a green bunny flogger, and a more serious heavy leather flogger. And I had a bootblack polish my shoes, too, which made a big difference in the overall look of my costume – suddenly I was the hot wrestling coach paddling ass!
After the fair, I grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed to the Citadel for their after-fair party. If you haven’t ever been in that space, you should really check it out. A most enjoyable time, as I watched a caning demonstration, then was asked if I wanted to flog a guy. 25 minutes later, I was covered in sweat and he was pretty blissed out. The only reason we stopped was I developed a blister on my right index finger that broke open. So, up to the kitchen for a bandage, and I chilled out for a while, then was asked by another guy if I’d be willing to flog his chest. That bunny flogger starts out really gentle and light, slowly building intensity – it’s a nice warm-up and cool-down device. The heavier flogger was really nice across the pectoralis muscles and into the serrators and deltoids, too.
Post-flogging, I did two intense spanking scenes on these two guys. The second, a man dressed as a boy scout, was particularly hot. He was nicely vocal and squirmed his big meaty ass around and across my lap nicely.
Finally, though, it was time to walk home, so I put my clothes back on over my singlet, and slowly made my way back home.
A glorious day.
I was chatting with this hot daddy bear who’ll be at Lazy Bear Weekend, and we’ve been chatting online since around IBR about the possibility of playing sometime. He asked me my hiv status, and I replied that I am HIV-negative as of my last test a few weeks ago.
The next thing out of his “mouth” is “I’m gonna BB-fuck your ass, boy.”
“Um, no you aren’t,” I replied.
“Oh, sorry, I thought you were into that.”
“That requires a considerable amount of trust, and not something I would do casually. I’ll have magnums available, though, Sir.”
“Well, if we don’t fuck, at least I can fuck your face.”
Now, this whole conversation was quite a turn-off to me. It wasn’t the bareback fucking thing that turned me off so much as the casual way in which he assumed that because we are both HIV-negative (so he claims) that it’s alright to take greater risks. Now, I am not perfect, and have made mistakes, but I strive to stay safe when I have sex as much as is possible.
Believe me, I understand the allure quite well. I lived through the 1980s never once using a condom for anal sex. Heck, I didn’t really start using condoms for it until the mid-90s when I moved back to California. Some people look at condoms as a breakdown of trust between people, but I think it’s possible to look at it as a show of trust and respect. And more importantly, it’s about self-trust and self-respect.
Friday evening, I rode BART from Civic Center to Richmond, got on Amtrak to Sacramento. My younger sister, Vel, picked me up at the station and we went out to her place in Elk Grove. She and her husband were flying to Seattle early Saturday morning, and I am borrowing her 4Runner to go up to Lazy Bear.
I arrived at 22:30, was in bed by 00:00, but 04:00 came awfully early. I drove them to SMF and then hopped back on the freeway and skidaddled my way back to Frank-baby, arrived back at UGH by 07:30, and I settled in for a brief nap.
09:00 and I was over at the laundromat around the corner washing every set of sheets I own. From there, I plodded down to my office for the first of three two-hour sessions.
That’s three two-hour deep tissue sessions. Your faithful correspondent was very tired, Gentlefolk.
Today, I have a client at 11, then I’m putting on my garments for Dore Alley and heading over to the fair. Whoopee!
There’s this lightness of being that has found its way into my heart since I wrote that post about being broken. It’s almost as if there’s this sense of just how absurd I have been for tormenting my self.
Speaking of absurd, here’s a clip I found on YouTube:
I had three clients cancel for this weekend. This is putting my Lazy Bear Weekend plans in jeopardy. I am trying to find locals or visitors to come get on my table tomorrow at 1:30pm, Saturday at 3 or 4pm. Wanna experience deep relaxation and getting in touch with yourself?
UPDATE: Thanks to everyone who booked! Lazy Bear Weekend is a go!
Is anyone going to the 15 Association play party on Saturday night? I really want to go, but I would like to go with someone who could be my moral support, as it were.
Hairspray last night with SFMoviebears.com. Just me and a few friends. Congrats, Dave, on a successful outing!
Does John Travolta ever play anything but John Travolta? I mean, honestly, he was just gawd-awful, and an insult to the memory of Divine and the honor of Harvey Feirstein. At least they could have gotten a fat actor to play the part. But, even after my disgust with him, I emptied my cup and still managed to eek out a small amount of pleasure from his terrible performance as Edna Turnbladt. The rest of the cast ranged from good to amazing otherwise, and the adaptation of the musical made sense for the medium of film. I do wish they had done “Mama, I’m a Big Girl Now” in the movie instead of at the ending credits, but I’m glad they didn’t leave it out.
Scotty-dog was supposed to be at the movie, but his mom got the biopsy results back last night, and it’s cancer, so he wisely opted to stay with her last night. So after the movie, I walked home and put my folded laundry away and went to bed.