Tagged: sex
Boy’s room
The reason I used to go to NYC—or anyplace, for that matter—cock, and lots of it. In my heyday, we’d simply call a spot like this “active.” There were are many.
Thanks Keith.
KEITH HARING ROOM on public display this month at The Center
Photos: KIRBY [see whole set here]
The trouble to love
I find myself returning again and again to the same familiar condition of solitariness. Is it sex that makes this happen? If it were not for sex, wouldn’t we each be content with our friends, their companionship and confidences? I love my friends. I am a good friend. But with my lover I begin to feel alone.
A friend of mine can be happy without a lover; she will have an affair if she wants one, but she doesn’t take the trouble to love.
I do very badly without a lover. I pine, I sigh, I sleep, I dream, I set the table for two and stare into the empty chair. I could invite a friend – sometimes I do – but that is not the point; the point is that I am always wondering where you are even when you don’t exist.
Sometimes I have affairs. But though I enjoy the bed, I feel angry at the fraud; the closeness without the cost.
I know what the cost is: the more I love you, the more I feel alone.
JEANETTE WINTERSON, from “All I Know About Gertrude Stein” Granta 115: The F Word, Summer 2011.
Photo: tboltkid
Drop Grab Jerk
The sexual outlaw
The cross
Cans
Park BJ
Photo: ‘Paris Park Blowjob’
On the prowl
Compel
FREE BBQ
Victoria Day Meats: KIRB’S SCREENSAVER 01 (available FREE for 7 days or first 100 downloads—18+)
Photo: justjw
Brief encounter
“to read, hear and see what we want”
“Because when you get more information about your own sexuality, the quality of your life improves immediately. When you free your body from the invisible control of church and state, you not only challenge some of the most evil authoritarian institutions in the world, you have more fun and better orgasms.”*
“Understand that sexuality is as wide as the sea. Understand that your morality is not law. Understand that we are you. Understand that if we decide to have sex whether safe, safer, or unsafe, it is our decision and you have no rights in our lovemaking.”**
The [Australian] law says that any depiction of a child under the age of 16 that ‘offends a reasonable adult’ is child pornography and must be banned.
The publications that Australian Customs have currently targeted include Kevin Esser’s novel STREETBOY DREAMS, the now defunct journal PAIDIKA, the Dutch magazine KOINOS, Fidelity Publishing’s SCUM, Gay Sunshine Press’ FLESH, and Alyson publication’s MY FIRST TIME. All of which (apart from Koinos) have been readily available in bookshops in Australia and grace many of our own bookshelves.
These publications do look at sexual relationships between men and under-age males. But describing, depicting, writing about or discussing a relationship is not necessarily the same as “promoting”or condoning that relationship. Although even that should not be illegal. In Australia we have a constitutional right (of sorts) to freedom of political expression. This should include the right to discuss our sexualities in a positive way, and to call for the abolition of pointless anti-sex laws. And by this, I include “age of consent” laws, which are arbitrary, impractical and obviously do not protect children from rape.
We are burying our heads in the sand if we try to pretend that loving, gay, intergenerational relationships do not occur. Unfortunately, it has been a tactic of the child-abuse industry to suppress any discussion that opposes their own rigid analysis of young people’s sexuality. But, as is clear to anyone who has been abused, burying a problem will not make it go away. Ask any child.
emu NUGENT, Is it Child Abuse, Gay Porn or Our Literary Heritage?, Library Two, June 2002.
Or ask the ultimate keeper/burier of secrets, the Rat Pope. They tried to give Obama shit about starting sex education in kindergarten. I truly believe the first two words out of a child’s mouth, even before mommy or dada, should be “body” and “mine.”
*Pat Califia, **Derek Jarman
Sweet heaven
“LA was full of pornographers shooting Vietnam Veterans. There were no better models than Marines.”
If you had to guess, how many guys would you say you’ve slept with?
At least a thousand – possibly more. Generally, they fall into three types; all the boys on Polk St., all the hustlers, and all the models. You just have to add the groups together. During the heyday on Polk St., I was sleeping with two a day, or more. I had no shame about sex, but neither did anybody else. Ah yes, Polk St. was sweet heaven.
Legendary “Old Reliable”
pornographer, DAVID HURLES interviewed by Christopher Trout, BUTT Magazine.
Outsider Porn: The Photos of David Hurles, curated by John Waters at Marianne Boesky NYC, June 4 – 26, 2010.
see also: Outcast: David Hurles’ Old Reliable In Living Color
KEVIN BENTLEY, Wild Animals I Have Known: Polk Street Diaries and After
Photos: David Hurles
Billions served
“All great truths begin as blasphemies.”*
What adamant heterosexual rights zealots and a couple of self-hating “ex-gays” always have and always will fail to get is that the only choice people make regarding their sexual proclivities is whether or not to do so publicly. And what isn’t public these days? Only the “religious”/conservative marrying-kind still insist on stupidly getting “caught” in a lie (a turn-on, apparently). For them, it (their “private parts”) remain a private matter, and we already know what sorts of things go on “in private.” And why it remains so. They live “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” every day of their chosen, church-goin’, secretive lives/lies. And if it’s good for them, it ought to be good for everyone, right? No “special rights.” Their sacred cow—marriage [American-style]—is only for one man and one woman to fuck it up. Many times over. Thank you, Lord. Things are just fine the way they are as long as the faithful (unquestioning), pray to God, and pretend not to know about the things they don’t want others, especially the children or the neighbours, to know about.
Lies are far more interesting, juicy—beg to be told/revealed—often playfully served up with glee. We love our lies. Relish our truth in them. Expect them. “Told you so.” The truth itself? Not so much. Who cares. The truth may indeed at times prevail, but it’s the lies we want exposed.
As journalist Gerald Hannon once quoted, “It’s your lies I want. I already know your truths.”
It’s lies we trust. They’re a whole lot easier to swallow. Ultra-palatable. And O so believable. Feed me another. Something dishy. Especially about so-&-so.
No! He’s not! You’re making that up! Really?! We’re not surprised.
America’s obesity. One big fat lie sweetly served and swallowed after another.
