We (for some strange reason this entire post uses the "royal" we) first encountered Erwin heating up the changing rooms at our favorite gym location many a year ago now. His focused manner both in and out of the locker room gave us the impression he was anything but the sweet and friendly - somewhat bashful even - guy we later had the pleasure of introducing ourselves to one night after drinking just enough "liquid courage" to stop him on his work rounds there at Splash and stammer out our admiration for him. He accepted our compliments graciously and did not shame us and a word of hello here and there in the months to follow left us feeling we had a nice "nightclub denizen" rapport, if not any strongly-held place in his memory.
It's been a few years since we've seen Erwin out, but, instead - and, perhaps more rewarding for us?...in a purely selfish and puerile way - he's been popping up on the interwebs more often recently; typically in a state of dress/un-dress like that in which we find him here.
As the day fades and evening sets in, then...on this day designated for celebrating love, we (thisisfyf, this time) wish you happiness in love: through loving yourself, first and foremost; through love - even unrequited - of someone who heats you up, whether they know it or not; and - ideally - through love that transcends cliche, expectation, and logic.
Happy V-Day, people!
I typically get home after dark during the week and go straight to the mailboxes under the stoop of the brownstone in which I occupy the top floor apartment. Several times lately, while checking to see if I've gotten any mail, I've noticed - even in the dark - a movement on the stairs right at my eye level, have hit the home button on my phone so that the backlight turns on and then shined it to the spot I saw the movement, illuminating a cockroach perched right at the edge as though watching me (see pictures above and below).
It's happened enough that I really began to wonder what a cockroach was doing hanging out on my front stoop, seemingly waiting for me (Yes, the universe revolves around me. Didn't you know?). One thought: perhaps it was laying in wait for me to pass it on the step so it could "catch a ride" on my cuff (or...*gulp* up my leg!?) up to my apartment every night. No, too anthropomorphic in reasoning. Maybe I'm a witch and - ironically (No Alanis) - this is my familiar? Or, even more groan-inducing, the universe was hearing my wish, but getting it very wrong...
Whatever the case may be, I wish the cockroach well...so long as it remains outside.
And for myself I'm wishing for something that assuredly involves cock, may - on occasion - bring a roach, but definitely isn't just a shell and a (pair of) feel(ers) that runs for hiding once it's daylight.
...To year 38!
Remember that giant music festival we were throwing over Labor Day Weekend in L.A.? Except not?
Well, it happened and was apparently a success...organized by the scruffily, matching-aquiline-nosed handsomes in the picture above (Possibly? Or maybe they're actually some famouses that everyone who reads BlackBook would know except me and thus do not need identifying?). We (ThisisFYF) do NOT have matching aquiline noses, so it clearly was not us who was responsible for this giant music fest.
Not that Twatter would know that...
Have I really not posted in four days (not counting the weekend)?
Oh, right...I was so busy (for maybe the first time, ever?) I couldn't summon the energy/time to masturbate.
Maybe that's a good thing? Maybe I do it too much in the first place? Maybe it's my preferred placebo for the real thing, or maybe I rely on it as others rely on sleeping medicine, alcohol, Grindr trysts and/or steam room shows (I've never taken sleeping pills. Ever.)?
The question (and plenty of dick) has been begged before: Does masturbation inhibit one's ability - or motivation, anyway - to connect?
I won't even try demurring, although - truthfully - there IS such a thing as too big?! That said, the following bit of "news" might seem predictable for me to post, but against that charge I'd like to point out...Andy posted it first!!
Despite the obvious angle exploited by the video and Andy's post...the REAL "news" here is that a Sperm Whale's dick is prehensile!
A pause to let that sink in for a minute...
...And a definition for those of you with only a cursory education:
The female anatomist doesn't even have a penis and gets all excited at the thought of its prehensility, going so far as to dub it "probably the most amazing penis in the animal world.". (Note: for those slightly confused about such things...HUMANS belong to the animal world.)
Now. Imagine having a prehensile penis.
Then imagine being HAD by a prehensile penis.
Size-schmize! THAT'S not the story here unless you've done more crystal than Swarovski!!
No...what's amazing about this creature is - unlike an elephant - his trunk IS his dick!
Addtionally, and less pruriently, the documentary from which this info is gleaned presents a number of anatomical wonders of the Sperm Whale, as detailed by this article from The Independent.
Watch the penis clip here...
And more episodes (albeit, not dealing with a Sperm Whale), here.
I'd actually thought of this as a tweet a week or so ago, but felt it wasn't fully-formed...not enough to publish anyway...and then Rod started bitching because I haven't posted in so long...
The time and situation
right. :) (Can I use emoticon's in a blog post? May I? You don't mind, do you?)
Rod's on a sabbatical for the month of July...and now maybe the month of August, as well. It's a much-needed sabbatical, I understand that. Writing posts for this blog is not easy to fit in to an already busy New York City gay man's daily schedule. ...And I'm not even being facetious.
We both have day jobs and so it's been an unrelenting scramble to get another post up since day one (get one up, the pressure to get the next up kicks in immediately! It's like we're whores at an orgy! Pity me?) and - after more than a year of that (Yeah, we're almost a year and a half old now?) - it feels SO GOOD to take a break, let me tell you...
Actually, no...you get it, I'm sure. It's just...tough? Like most everything worth something (if we may be un peu presumptuous.), it takes WORK. You need focus. Motivation. Inspiration. And yet it's a PASTtime!? How does that work? How serious can we take ourselves? How much can we whinge (a close friend's favorite word) and not upend in melodrama?
Best not to whinge, methinks. Certainly not more than I've done here.
Onwards and upwards, as they say! New challenges! New thoughts! A new day!
And with that...?
I'm still mulling over how/what I feel about my five day fast/cleanse that ended Sunday (the one with the maple syrup & palm oil, lemon juice, water and cayenne pepper drink.). Though it did something, what I experienced didn't match up with the testimonies given by others who've done it. Then again, I "only" did it for five days (the minimum recommended length of time) and, from everything I read, the biggest effects are felt in the four to six-or-seven day window.
For example, many people said that they felt euphoric and a swell of energy after about 3 or 4 days on the fast.
I did not. I felt energetic enough to get through my day (which in and of itself is a little bit miraculous?!), but I did not - by any stretch of the imagination - feel a surge of energy greater than when I'm eating solid food.
I heard from many that their bathroom experiences during a cleanse were rather frightening.
Mine were not. They were both expeditious and non-vomitous.
What did happen was I lost a noticeable layer of fat (I hope? I mean, I hope both that it was fat and that it's noticeable.) around my middle, my skin altered noticeably (I can't say it cleared up or became softer or anything like that, but it changed. Something to do with the pores tightening is the closest I can come to describing it.) and I saved money on food, alcohol and other consumables.
I also learned I can exist fairly normally and surprisingly easily(?!) without food.
Other things I learned include that I can hold myself to a program that requires abstaining from doing (or consuming) things I enjoy, relish and love. Valuable information in the grand scope of things, certainly.
I learned, or had reiterated and reemphasized, that food plays a large part in my life: not only as sustenance, but as a motivation, a reward and a social activity. I've never been so bored as I was fasting.
I also learned that having a six-pack is not so simple as stripping fat and doing sit-ups. And perhaps that my self-perception (about how close I am/how easy it'd be to have a six-pack) is a bit skewed.
Huge underlining of a truth I've been told all my life and am fairly clear on at this point? Change does not happen quickly. Shortcuts and quick-fixes and "miracle cures" (not that I went into this thinking I was curing or fixing anything overnight.) are rarely effective. That's not to say that fasting is passing itself off as one of these, it's just a matter of properly informing your expectations for what will be acheived by fasting.
Ultimately, I think there's little question I benefitted from taking a five-day break from toxins like alcohol, cigarettes and fatty, fried foods. Whether the lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper and water concoction I drank added anything to the detoxification process is debatable. It did allow me to make it through five days of near-starvation, however, so that's something.
For now, I'm relishing every bite I take, regardless of what I'm eating (That first bagel I had yesterday afternoon was EVERYthing!!)
Next detoxing "experiment"? The Russian baths! Who'll join me?
Cravings are odd. I don't eat these items very often when I'm not fasting, so it's strange they are the ones I most often land on in my hungered thoughts.
Truth is, I'm not that hungry. Bored? Absolutely. Who knew eating, thinking about eating and planning when/what to eat was so time-consuming?! I mean, it makes sense, but...I am seriously wondering what to do with myself!?
Also? I can't seem to leave my office without the excuse of getting a coffee as the premise for my leaving. Weird.
It's this one.
Despite having already been doing intermittent fasting for a month or so, this first day is...interesting. It's been tougher than I expected in terms of craving food (I'm not really feeling hungry, but am just having random desires for random food stuffs?). I feel kind of weak, as well,...and a little fuzzy mentally. But then I can kind of snap myself out of the fuzziness and the weakness is fairly easy to override. I'm not pushing it though.
I am day-dreaming about my guac and marg meal last night at El Nuevo, however.
That said, it's interesting to note that food - the procuring and eating of it - is as much about being bored and wanting distraction and seeking an effect that's akin to that sought in "retail therapy" as it is about your body needing sustenance. The majority of my cravings today have been for "treats" like a frappucino, a bagel or some other silly, but heightened-consumer-experience/implicitly-socially-condoned purchase.
I figure five days ain't no big thing. I can do it that long.
I also figure it can't be a bad thing to flush my system of all the crap I've put in it over the years (I do love Popeye's!). Does this actually flush that stuff or does your body work like that (like a toilet!?)? Dunno. But if it does anything close, it'll be a positive change, I think.
And...I'll be like Bey.
Best posted "after dark"...posts with pornographic subject matter here on FYF are a logical extension of our mission to provide a gay perspective like none other - or at least most like our gay perspective? - by addressing head-on an often vast aspect of a homosexual's existence; i.e. - sex and sexuality.
Unfortunately with pornographic images, video and stories, the end result is nearly as often frustrating as it is fantastic. Having spent the first 27 years of my life relying solely on pornography to supplement my fantasy of sex and help me to stave off my horniness, I've learned this lesson first...*ahem*...hand.
And, with that said, I think you've gotten a fairly good glimpse at of what our coverage of porn, sex and sexuality will consist.
For starters? Here are a few of my favorite (fantasy) things. (It goes without saying the photos/content following the jump are NSFW or anywhere public unless you're on Fire Island, in West Hollywood, or on your phone at Splash.
Just like that, it's hot as balls.
I'm not complaining, mind you! In fact, contrary to many I've spoken to, I actually feel like - for once! - we had a bit of a Spring, albeit a rainy one. And though it's finally HOT hot, it's not totally unbearable. Yet.
On top of that, this year I'm making a conscious effort to approach things differently. I've resolved to try and go with the heat, rather than fight it like I usually do.
A bit of backstory to set the stage, perhaps. See, I'm from Alabama originally, so one would think I'd be relatively acclimated to extreme heat, but no...I do not do well in the heat of summer. For one thing, I sweat profusely and, when I do, it's almost exclusively from my head.
I could count my blessings and be glad I'm not a profuse 'pit-sweater or crotch-sweater (or have to wear a sweater...gah!), but - in the past - I've mostly just groused and felt discomfited by the city in summer as, whenever I walked even a block outside (which is unavoidable, being New York is a walking city), I appeared to have just been caught in a downpour.
So, yeah...this summer I'm thinking about it differently. First and foremost, I'm realizing I have an "approach" to sweating that I hadn't really made explicit to myself, previously. My general philosophy is one of "stay cool and don't sweat at ALL costs!". But acknowledging that as my unconscious agenda allows me to question it: Like, what's the big deal if I get a little wet? (It dries eventually!)
Making my philosophy regarding sweat conscious also begs the question of whether fighting something my body obviously is designed to do naturally is counter-productive, and even, eventually, detrimental. Perhaps by fighting not to sweat all these years (by sticking to air-conditioned environments as much as possible, for example) I've prevented my body from doing what it's supposed to do by sweating(other than cooling the body, clearly.)! I mean, despite the profuse amount of sweating I do when I do sweat, perhaps I've been successful enough at avoiding sweating under normal circumstances that I've stored up a lot of the toxins sweat is meant to expel from my body, rather than expelling them! Yikes! Clearly this calls for more time in the sauna/steamroom. Or at the park. Or on the court (tennis or basketball...if I can remember how to dribble.). Or even in the bedroom if I play my cards right? (Volunteers?)
Regardless of where I sweat more, I'm already off to a good start as I went to my capoeira class last night and the gym was having some issues with the A/C, rendering the studio where the class took place its own sauna. I stuck it out and - in the end - it wasn't bad!
Next? Sleeping without A/C. Oof! Gonna take some doing!
First, there's this.
Also, someone had posted this trailer - for a documentary it seemed like then - a while back. I thought it looked interesting and I have to admit I thought Mr. Yahia (Uday Hussein's double) fairly handsome.
Now it seems this was a promo for the movie (trailer below) that's coming out in July and stars Dominic Cooper in the roles of both Uday and Latif (Yahia). I'd say "upping the ante" (referring to the movie and Mr. Cooper's...charms.), but I'm actually more attracted to what I thought Mr. Yahia's face looked like (which is actually Uday's face in photos from when he was younger/still tyrannical?!). Mr. Cooper (above) certainly looks nice in speedos, but no, it's actually a picture of Uday that I find is the most attractive of all three. Troubling in that whole, he-was-a-maniacal-sadistic-psychopath-so-what-the-hell-kind-of-man-am-I-attracted-to kind of way. Bad boy syndrome, indeed!
The Devil's Double is set to open July 29, 2011 and tells the story of Latif Yahia, a schoolmate of Uday Hussein who was forced to undergo plastic surgery to more closely resemble Uday and then serve as his double, surviving ELEVEN assasination attempts on "Uday"'s life over the course of his service.
Excellent testimonial and perspective, Mister aaron:
I'd also recommend reading Joaquin Latina's comment and mulling it over a bit with regard to commodifying ourselves and what that means for our humanity.
I'm sure most of you wonder...in the words of Niecy Nash, "How do I do all that I do?", or - not to put too fine a point on it - how do WE do these consistently amazing, challenging and brilliant posts here at FYF? Well, here's an example of how the thoughts flowed from initial idea to final edit for one post (this one, in point of fact!!):
Yesterday, in the course of writing "Speaking of Grindr...let's eschew naivete...", I had thought of Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" as a potentially beneficial point-of-reference for how we might think about online profiles in comparison to the actual person. I couldn't recall the allegory specifically, however, and so left it out.
Last night, a Facebook friend posted a quote from Edgar Allen Poe that inspired another FB friend to comment, quoting a different Poe passage: "All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.", which then sparked spontaneous thoughts of the late 80s docu-drama (Ha!) starring the Coreys (Feldmen and Haim) "Dream A Little Dream", which didn't really lead anywhere.
Searching instead for "dream within a dream" led to "through a glass, darkly" (The Bible!!) and then, what should pop up but Plato's "Allegory of the Cave"! We'd come full circle!
What did we learn, and why is this a post, you ask?
I celebrated my birthday (maybe MY 30th?) there once, which makes me as fabulous as Andy Cohen.
I never thought I'd say anything like this but...there's too much dick in my Tumblr.
I really enjoy living in Carroll Gardens. It's kind of the right balance of a variety of things I enjoy about living in the City. It's trendy (Smith Street/Court Street/Henry Street serve as testing ground or launching pads for restaurateurs and restaurant concepts of all kinds), but not TOO. It's quiet, but not TOO. It's fairly straight, white and family-centric, but not TOO.
That's not to say it doesn't have its share of "excitement". A former almost completely Italian enclave (though there's still a large presence of Italians) with a history of reputed mob ties (there are still "social clubs" dotted around the 'hood.), Friday saw the stabbing attack of Mark Iacono, owner of Lucali's on Henry Street where he makes some of the world's most-renowned pizza (according to GQ and Zagat's). According to major news sources (The Post, Daily News), Mr. Iacono was stabbed by a lifelong friend with whom he had an argument Friday afternoon outside Joe's Superette Deli, two doors down from where I do my laundry (and did so, Saturday).
To someone who has seen arguably too many "mob" movies and has (perhaps) too active an imagination, Joe's has all the markings of a "front" business - it's decor seems like an afterthought and no one ever seems to go in - but apparently it sells some of the best proscuitto rice balls in the city (Who knew?!). It's such a fixture in the neighborhood, its sign is missing the "p" in Superette and a restaurant opened sometime last year further down Smith with the name Sue's Perette...an "homage" to Joe's sign, I'm nearly certain.
The man who attacked Mr. Iacono helped out at Bagels by the Park, which also happens to be where I got a breakfast sandwich Saturday, after not having been in there for months and months. At the time I visited, I didn't know about the stabbing and I recall thinking the staff and owner were unusually dour and whisper-y. In the context of the stabbing the night before, their unusual demeanors make a lot of sense.
As so often happens, commenters (well, at least Guest #6, above) on the news item on Eater throw out every possible rumor of Mr. Iacono's misdeeds or "difference" from "good, law-abiding citizens" in what I assume is a subconscious attempt to rationalize his being stabbed in an effort to retain their own sense of safety. According to this one reader, apparently Mr. Iacono is not only a philanderer - bedding his entire female staff despite his marriage - but also BIsexual! As if to say, "Well no WONder!" Or perhaps he subscribes to the Mary Mary school of thought that lumps homosexuals and murderers together.
Yesterday, what little is known about the reasons for the attack (the two involved aren't divulging.) were further muddied by reports that the Brooklyn DA's office announced it will charge both Mr. Iacono and his attacker with attempted murder, two counts of assault and criminal possession of a weapon.
So. How was your weekend?