The Original Gay Porn Community - Free Gay Movies and Photos, Gay Porn Site Reviews and Adult Gay Forums

  • Welcome To Just Us Boys - The World's Largest Gay Message Board Community

    In order to comply with recent US Supreme Court rulings regarding adult content, we will be making changes in the future to require that you log into your account to view adult content on the site.
    If you do not have an account, please register.
    REGISTER HERE - 100% FREE / We Will Never Sell Your Info

    PLEASE READ: To register, turn off your VPN (iPhone users- disable iCloud); you can re-enable the VPN after registration. You must maintain an active email address on your account: disposable email addresses cannot be used to register.

KentuckyPython - Archived Blog Posts

Status
Not open for further replies.
This is a transcription of a fast write I did at a writer’s group.


There we were in the middle of nowhere waiting and watching the snow fall of the harvested fields. The Moon and the Stars were visible overhead and we sat quietly in the front seat taking int eh awe of the world around us. I wanted to hear some of that upbeat, swinging jazz that had been so much a part of my Sunday evening for the last decade. Out this far the airwaves were quiet, and there was nothing to pick up. In the distance, a wolf howled and was answered by his brother at least I think it was his brother. I’ve never been able to tell with wolves.

“It’s a coyote,” Mark said as if ready my thoughts.

“Wolf,” I answered.

“Wrong.”

“No Mark, it’s a wolf. Listen to his vowels. It’s wolf–Nebraskan dialect.”

“Why would a Nebraskan wolf be in the middle of Ohio?”

“NAFTA.”

“Wouldn’t that have taken him more toward Mexico?”

“No. It brought him here to Ohio. Don’t you pay attention to anything?”

“To what? You’ve got an insane idea that the obviously Texan coyote is a wolf from Nebraska. It’s insane.”

“If we’re taken up by a UFO, let me do the talking,” I told him. “Otherwise they’ll think they’ve picked up a couple of complete Wanks.”
 
The brut and Shiraz
make their way to my head
in a dizzying array of
swirls and comfits
The chocolate
carries me to an ecstacy
worthy of a virgin saint
I dance for you
leaving the black silk
in puddles on the floor
while you bind my hands
with crimson velvet
belying the scarlet stains
to come
I am yours to take
body heart soul
tangles into one
long night
Evaporating with
Eos in the sky
 
I could use another massage. I've overlifted. It happens. I'll take creatine and down whey protein, and I'll be better. I had one of those angus burgers to kill for today for lunch. Yes, I'm back to being a carnivore--for now at least. It happens regularly. There's a cycle, and all is good.

I didn't get to call the recruiter back this afternoon. Business before business I guess is the theory I'm working under. However, you can bet I'm going to call the recruiter back in the morning. I guess I'll wait until some respectible hour not the un-godly one when I get in.

I find it odd that I'm completely and totally addicted to lip stuff. I don't want color. I don't want shine. I just want stuff on my lips, and I want them to be moist and kissable. I'm uncertain what's up with that, but it is what it is. A fact plain and simple.
 
In one of my blog entries, there is a statement on my belief in salvation through bibliography. However, in many ways that statement doesn’t cover a couple of the core beliefs I hold very dear. My personal beliefs are Pagan, or Earth-centered, if you prefer. I attend a Unitarian Universalist church where my beliefs are well know and shared even. I have very good friends who are complete atheists, and from them I have learned one very important lesson. Live every day to the fullest that you can live it, and pull from it every thing it has to offer. Failure to do that would be most sinful. I don’t care what a person’s beliefs are (or aren’t for that matter) as long as those beliefs don’t interfere with me and how I live my life. I’m all about the free and responsible search for truth.
 
Mark and I walked into the deserted court yard filled with ice and snow of a hundred days below freezing and ninety of those with snow fall. He kicked at a frozen spigot with the toe of his boot, and I laughed at the sound it made. A bird of some kind flew from the winter dead tree.

Mark pulled a bottle from the pocket of his leather jacket and offered me a drink . It was a sweet and syrupy liquor. I’d forgotten about his penchant for carrying honey around. "I thought it would be rum," I said blithely.

"No honey with a little lemon," he informed.

"Warm me next time," I said as I looked at him and smiled that smile that could only be one thing. "Let’s do it."

"Not in the mood," he said.

"Come on! It’ll be fun."

"Seriously I don’t feel like it today."

Deciding I didn’t need him, I reached down and grabbed a hand full of snow and packed it into a ball. "Sure you’re not up to it?" He shook his head blankly. I scooped up more snow and added it to what I’d packed before. "It’s going to be the best snow man ever!"

"Okay, you convinced me. I’ll help." As I rolled the base, he made the torso, and we stacked the two together. I searched for sticks and rocks to complete our seasonal friend while Mark crafted his head. We stepped back and looked at our creation. "He needs a name," Mark opined.

"Fred." It was the pronouncement of a priest at a baptism and not open for discussion or debate.

"Fred," Mark repeated. We turned away and walked out of the courtyard. "Fred," he repeated. "It’s a cool name. I just wonder though if he’ll make his way up to the North Pole, acquire a brolly, waist coat, and one of those silly looking bowler hats and start singing Christmas ditties."
 
The Ballet was phenomenal as always. Regina Coeli was wondrous, and I love the costuming. The dresses were liturgical with a twist, and I was enraptured with how the men were costumed. Wolfie’s music is always enchanting. Fragile Stasis made me realize that I’m a Hougland junkie. It’s best to admit it and go on. To see the dancers coming up to the stage from the Pit was astounding, and then to have dancers lying on the stage while pairs or trios danced was breathtaking. When the snow began falling on stage I was completely caught up. Maybe it’s because there was real snow falling outside, but I think I’d have had the same feelings and reactions had it been July. There was both an emotional fulfillment as well as an emotional vacuum created. It’s easy to tell why I’d walk twelve miles and sell plasma to see Hougland’s ballets. I also have a new favorite dancer–David Ingram is superb. I was under his spell every time he was on the stage. Along with the rest of the audience, I was one my feet cheering and clapping. Lambarena was stupendous as well. I’d definitely see it again. The costumes were very different from what I anticipated, and the dancers carried me off to a different place.

I discovered that OLCH sells Louisville is for Lovers. I need to stop in and get myself a copy–along with a nice cup of joe. Maybe that’s something for on the way home tomorrow.
 
I'm not sure how it will end, but an evening that started with a vegan dinner and followed with chocolate, bakalava, and Shiraz is a wonderous thing on a cold, rainy evening in February. It's enveloping like a warm blanket--that I just happen to have handy.
 
March 1


I’ve got the writing samples all set. I’m not sure where anything will lead though. I’m just going to take all of it one day at a time. What else is there to do?

It was a perfect night for Chinese take away and an episode of BSG. It’s raining in torrents again. I don’t mind really, but I got my good running shoes wet, and I can’t wear them tomorrow–or maybe I can. Who knows. I know which pants I want to wear, so it’s more a matter of picking out a sweater. Of course lunch was great. TDMT’s food is always fabu, and today was one of the times when an overnight let the flavors meld together. I guess ultrafabu is the new term.

I can’t wait until Saturday! I’ve been planning this for a long time, so I really want to make the most of it. I’m excited, nervous, and a little giddy at the same time. It’s kind of odd that this time I’ve told people. Last time, I just made up my mind and did it. It’s supposed to be rainy/snowy but I don’t care. I think I can still do my thing–maybe even between downpours.

I’ve got the writing samples all set. I’m not sure where anything will lead though. I’m just going to take all of it one day at a time. What else is there to do?

And frankly, I don't want the twin silver bullets.

February 28

I stayed later than I’d intended tonight, now I’m beat. I need writing samples for work. This is encouraging.

This morning, however, was a little more interesting. I forced myself to oversleep this morning, because I had a fasting blood test. I hate those–blood tests. It was at work, and I was greeted by one of the trainers. I had to admit in front of people I knew and didn’t know that I can both throw up and pass out from a blood test. Honestly, you can put stuff in, but I don’t like it coming out. “It’s just the blood,” she said. I wanted to tell her that she just didn’t know me when, but managed to let her know that no, it isn’t the blood. Silly woman.
 
I really had almost put it off until next week using any of the myriad excuses I have at my disposal. It cold, blustery and snowy, and I had forgotten how long it’s been since I’ve done Bardstown Road. Can it be nearly fifteen years since Sean and I were up there with our crowns askew? If I recall, it was cold and wet then too, but in January or February I think. Officially, I need to add the Strip to my list of things for a Saturday.

I made my way down to the shop just as they opened. It’s in an old doctor’s office, and they’ve not been in this space too long–at least judging from the looks of it. There was some woman with piercing questions, and a sociology student who wanted to observe. Finally I had my chance for a conversation with the receptionist. She kind of reminds me of Abby on NCIS, but I digress. It’s a custom shop, but I knew what I wanted, and he had a cancellation. He could take me immediately. He needed to re-draw the chalice design, make a flash, and then get me back there. While he’s doing that, I’m filling out and signing the release papers.

Obviously, this is a completely elective procedure. It’s also one I’ve had before, so I know what it feels like. However, the kanji is small and took, maybe, ten minutes. The chalice is larger and took longer–a change in needles too. Does it hurt? No, it’s an irritation, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it’s a little erotic, and there will be a poem. After the outline came the fill-in, and that I must say burnt. I made him take a break at on point; I know it’s a flaming chalice, but come on.

One other interesting thing. Adam, the artist, had a crucifix handing on his wall. It’s this odd shade of green, and I asked if it glows in the dark. It does. He got it in NOLA. That led to a conversation of religion, reformed Catholics, and his girlfriend telling him that he’s a Unitarian. I explained the tattoo he was doing. He might come by some Sunday to check us out. That would be very interesting.

I failed to get a photo before the plastic came off, but I did get one of the drying blood and outline of where the plastic had been. I’ll do some photo documentation along the way. I don’t know why, but it seems worth it.

I will post some pics in my gallery, but in the mean time, the design is the same as my avatar.
 
Typically I’m skeptical of things–even when I buy them, but the socks that were nearly $16 for on Saturday are really good. They wicked away the sweat and were completely dry by the time I got home. Will I be heading back for more? I probably will, but it won’t be anytime soon. I want to see how well these hold up.

I’m both dreading and anticipating Friday.
 
Either they've turned down the levels on the cross trainers or I'm getting too strong for my own good. Running on level 7 is now too easy and I had to kick it up to 12 just to know that I was working hard. However both my shirt and bandana were completely soaked.

I also had to admit the irises were gone. I must get more!

I'm not a fan of DST, and when it comes three weeks early, I'm less thrilled about it. It's dark in the mornings and light at night. It takes a Republican to mess up night and day.
 
It was warm last night and when I left for work, so my come home from the gym clothes were shorts and a t-shirt. I nearly froze. I love the Ville’s weather. It did give me something to talk to that guy from the gym about though. 35 minutes hard core cross trainer: Typical 3.81 miles: Not far enough 560 calories: Not too shabby Sporting new ink in the locker room: Priceless. There is something interesting about seeing all of the hidden ink. It’s not erotic. It’s just…I don’t know how to say it or explain it. Maybe it’s more like getting a glimpse into another’s psyche. Okay, so pretty much all of my ink can be on regular display–especially when I’m wearing a sleeveless t-shirt. I think that’s what the guy was looking at when I came out of the showers. He had seen me, but he hadn’t seen my upper arm. The kangi on my calf is one thing, but there’s something mysterious about that chalice.

I got the tunic today. Playing around with it, it might go as well with chinos as it does with jeans, and it’s think enough that I might be able to wear it for a good part of the Summer as well. Now if only the boots would come. How can engineers boots be on back order.
 
I finally got the poem complete that has been roaming around in my head since Monday when I pricked my finger and bled all over the place at work. I don’t know how stapling reports together could end in a very bloody mess, but it did.

I’m charged with writing some Chalice lighting and extinguishing words for April. I’m guessing anything with Hic est enim calix Sangunis Mei won’t go over well. I’ll commence to mull it over and play with it, and I think I’ll make sure to post them in various places in case someone else would want to use them.

I’m also supposed to receive a bottle of homemade Shiraz. I offered to pay, but I was told she didn’t sell it. I’m not complaining.

For the poem inspired by the above events, please see: http://dragonwolf77.mindsay.com/
 
After work parties are dull affairs. You sit there, generally with the people you’ve been sitting with for eight hours, eat and discuss work–or at least work related topics. Why? Yes, you can have a gin and tonic that will at least dull down the endless drone, and there’s a DJ spinning some wax. Oh, and there’s free food. Let’s not forget about the free food. Okay, so I got dinner for the price of a call drink.

I stopped in my favorite third place for a real drink after. It was done right (even though my favorite barkeep in all the world wasn’t there), with Tanqueray Rangpur. I got to listen to the bartender drama, relax, and play with the video game.

I need to get up and get my stuff ready for work tomorrow. I’d love to be getting ready to jet off to some secluded little island where I could sit on the beach, tan, work on my writing, and stop just long enough for a solid cardio.
 
2 Grande Shots in the Dark: $5.52
1 Diet Coke, 1 Diet Mt. Dew, 1 café au lait:
They were giving it away
Being completely over caffeinated: Priceless

Have I mentioned how much I love Tangpur gin? It's wonderful!
 
I make absolutely no secret to choosing bottles of wine based on type (Shiraz being a favorite) then by how much I like the label. Often this works out well, and I’ve turned up more than a couple of nice, inexpensive brands that I’d buy again and share. A decent vineyard often employees a decent artist to produce a decent label. At times it doesn’t work out at all. With the current bottle I’m not displeased, but I’m also considering going out and Googling the directions to turn wine into vinegar. It’s not quite Christ-like, but I’m still intrigued. I have this odd idea brewing that I’ll have this splendid vinegar for use in all of my salad dressings.

And it might just work. However, I’m disheartened by the realization that I’ve never been able to make the champagne and caviar salad dressing as I consume all of the champagne first–sad but true. I wind up with either a very simple vinaigrette or something store bought. And I recall that I once bought a bottom shelf Chardonnay for a soup recipe, but gave it someone as a last moment (literally) Christmas gift.

Still, I’m reminded of another adventure with wine. I was going to a house warming party. I had with me an excellent bottle of win. I’d had someone drop me off. I went to the house. I had the wrong address. Imagine my chagrin. Then there was the other conundrum. As I recall it was “the only yellow house on the block.” Unfortunately, there were five yellow houses, and one that might have been described as yellow by a straight man who is color confused. Oy vey. I decided that I couldn’t walk around the Highlands with a bottle of wine knocking on doors. Yes, I might have made some new friends. In retrospect… I walked up to the mall, bought a pack of gum to get enough change for a pay phone (do they still have those?), and called my mother to come get me. I did attract some strange stares in the process, and if there’s a moral of the story, it’s two fold. First get the address correct before going AND carry the wine inside something just incase you messed up on the first one.
 
Each year I forget somehow the major difficulties caused by a simple horse race. I’ve grown accustomed over the years, but it is a hassle none-the-less. I’d forgotten that I might not be allowed to cross a street at a chosen intersection. I’d forgotten that my grocery store gets overrun with people who aren’t from the neighborhood and most of whom are from out of town and only interested in buying beer and cigarettes. I’d forgotten that it can cost up to $40 to park a car in someone’s yard–and that barking of Park at passing cars is not frowned upon. Then there are the new things. A coffee house opened a couple of weeks ago, and it was over run by a caffeine crazed horde. On Cinco de Mayo, the authentic Mexican restaurant is devoid of people inside to eat but the back lost is full of cars of the track faithful.

While the Novos Ordo are selling parking as they have for decades, I didn’t notice the people preaching and handing out tracks advising that those going to the Track are going to Hell. Hmm, have they given up and realized that there is no Hell? I doubt it. Maybe I was too concerned with deciding if I wanted a funnel cake. I passed. Often they’re for sale on Sunday as well. I’ve learned that the best vendors stick around for a few days, and going on Sunday–or even Monday means you can browse at leisure and can sometimes get a better deal.
 
I went to see Spider-Man 3 today but haven't a clue about the film. Before the first trailer (for Pirates of the Caribbean 3) was done, there was a loud boom. The screen went dark, and the emergency lights came on. :eek: I was a little taken aback, but sat there. The entire theatre and the encompassing mall had lost power. I got a rain check, so I'll try again tomorrow, and I had an excuse to go out and play in the Highlands, but honestly I wanted to see the movie, grad some dinner, and pick up a tie and a pair of shorts from the vintage place.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top