Solid Groove & Sinden - Din Da Da

Now this song takes me back... I first heard it on a dance floor, back in varsity, at a party that was high up on the top floor of the Carlton Centre in Johannesburg. the city lights were all around me and this groove bit me so hard... I shook my ass because I was a naughty girl... yo'!

Surviving Cape Town.

 Give us a T!

So when I arrived in Cape Town it was completely daunting, sure I had come down for a holiday or two but to just pack everything up and move to another city with the hopes of a fresh start and a new life can prove a mightier task than one would initially expect.  On arrival I had misgivings.  The apartments are much smaller and some don’t even have a window.  I am a boy who is use to his two balconies and north facing windows, how am I to survive?  The sun has to blaze into my home, I need it, I live off it, if you look close enough you will see the chlorophyll pigmentation I have in my olive skin.

Give us an E!

Give us an N!

Give us an A!

From coffee shop to coffee shop the pace of life is exactly the same, slow.  Is it because I am a Jozzie boy and we can’t wait for anything?  Whatever happened to patience?  Or is everyone just smoking reefer?  I was somewhat mollified when I realized I enjoyed the slowed down pace of it all.  After letting my frustration out, like air in a balloon, I deflated to a degree of surprising forbearance.  Was the mountain starting to creep into my soul?  And was I finally allowing the confluence of the two oceans to swirl around my mind and open my eyes to calming perseverance?  Or was I just smoking reefer too?

Give us a C!

Job-hunting is like getting a fly out of your coca-cola, are you really going to drink it when you get it?  After countless interviews for positions, which I am acknowledged as being over qualified for, I finally land a job wiping the counter and serving drinks.  Is this were all my qualifications get me?  Serving drinks to men in towels?  Have I regressed or is this a case of biting the bullet?  How is it possible that a pay check here is considerably less than the one I was getting in Jozzie town and flipping quick lines off at drunken customers in hopes of a bigger tip seems to rack up the necessary cash I need to survive?  Is it all about hustling? The situation proves a little precarious.  Life here all seems to be part of a circle. But a whole series of circles, like an onion, a circle with layers and layers and as the new guy I am not in any circle, I have barely even penetrated the outer skin of that said onion.

Give us an I!

Is it still cloudy?  Why is it not raining?  Why does it just constantly drizzle?  Is it not suppose to pour and clear up.  I feel like I have not seen the sun in ages.  Sometimes I wonder if it will ever come back.  Am I cold?  No, but I find myself thinking day in and day out of when the sun will return to this mountainous seaside city.  It consumes me.  How much longer do I have to wait?  Can I bare it any longer before my skin totally softens up and falls from my body?  I want… I need … I deserve…I, I, I.  I need to calm down!

Give us a T!

Give us a Y…

Because that is all you need to make a break in a new place, TENACITY.  Don’t underestimate the power of never giving up.  Don’t down play the Duracell force of never saying die.  Keep moving on Gaily forward and you shall achieve, you can pierce that outer layer and weasel your way deeper into the circles, getting closer and closer to the centre of it all. 

"In the C-Point" by Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

Here is a little story I wrote about a year ago.  Just went I started getting into writing shorts.  It never really impressed me so I kinda forgot about it.  A blog I follow reminded me of it.  He posted a post about a wedding speech and this story seems to be one of the many proposal moments that run through my head at the oddest of moments... albeit devoid of a happy ending.  Check his blog out :

lovelace-thegreyrainbow  this one is for you my little Grey Rainbow.

The sun has set behind the ocean and a soft mist rolls in over the land, as a final reminder that it is going into night.  Collecting a big black duffle bag from my boot I call to one of the car guards for assistance “ I have something very important to do and I have to lay it now.  If you help me I will give you R100?”  He eagerly agrees.  We walk to the large paved platform that overlooks the swimming pools and the sea.  I open the bag and start pulling out little lights.  “We have to arrange it like this. But most importantly I need you switch them on,” pointing to the switch, “in about twenty minutes?”, looking at him to make sure he understands.

The lights are arranged perfectly so I walk back to my car to put the duffle bag back in the boot.  Reaching in, I retrieve a medium sized box covered in black and white big goofy smiling pictures of myself.  I am a little embarrassed but I think some old school cheese might set the tone.  I close the boot, look left and right and cross the road to the apartment block on the other side.  I ring the buzzer for number 57.  Waiting nervously for the muffled voice through speaker, it finally comes through, “Hello?”

With a little apprehension I reply “Hi…its me…. surprise?” 

“Who?”. 

Even more nervous now my throat starts to croak, “Ummmm, babe, its me”.  It is just silent.  Then the door buzz’s.  I go in. 

Standing at the elevator waiting for it to come down I try rearrange my hair in the frosted mirror.  Bing!  The lift arrives at the ground floor. In the elevator and I push 5.  Every slow turn of the motor makes my heart beat faster and faster. The elevator comes to a sudden halt.  I push the door open and turn to the left.  I knock on the door and wait patiently for him to answer the door.  He opens the door with a huge grin.  I walk in and without saying a word I push my lips against his.  He pulls me inside and closes the door.  He pushes me up against the door and removes my pants with effortless ease.  In an instant I am rock hard and before I know it, he is on his knees working my knob to a throbbing swell.  He flips me around and plunges his tongue in between my pert cheeks.  With every slash of his tongue, I begin to bend more and more at the knees, he stands up and sticks his hard cock inside of me.  I clutch the door from the sheer force.  He holds it for a while before slowly thrusting.  He builds up speed until he is banging me like a ball against a wall, back and forth.  We cum.

Flopping down to the floor, we sit side by side.  He lights a cigarette, has a few drags and passes it to me.   He points to the box, “What’s in the box?  Are those pictures of you all over it?”   He grins the way I had hoped he would.  With a huge smile back at him I reply, “It’s a surprise my lover.  I made a few purchases on my little cruise trip for you.  I guess I just wanted you with me.” 

I lift the lid off the box and pass the lid to him. “Oh my word, look at you all over this box.  It is so cute lover.”

“Wait till you see the little things inside”, I begin to take the odd little gifts and give them to him, part two in my plan, to shower him with gifts; a sparkling watch, a range of perfumes, a pure cotton shirt and something gold to decorate his long neck.

Once we calm down he sees the photo of myself in the bottom of the box.  “That’s a beautiful picture my love…” 

“I was a little drunk and I passed the guys that take photos on my way to have upper and I thought I should have one done just for you… I wrote on the back but before you read it I want some… do you have some wine… lets have some wine and stand on the balcony, there is something I need to tell you.”   He grabs two slender wine glasses and a bottle of Pinotage.  I insist on opening the wine and pouring, “You can read it while I pour”

“The man on the other side of this letter is in love with you.  He is naïve in many ways and is prone to making monumental fuck ups. And he is in love with you.  He can be self involved and completely unrealistic.  But he loves you.  He has the biggest heart in the world.  He will always have your back.  He will always strive to make you laugh.  He will always help you when help is needed.  He will never stop loving you, unconditionally and in whatever capacity you need… he is devoted to you.  He needs you more than you need him.”

My heart races as he reads it.  I feel completely exposed.  Maybe it is too much? What if he just does not feel the same way?  The silence is not so much a silence but a deafening roar from the crashing ocean in the background and it relentlessly smashes over and over for what seems to be hours.  Then he looks up at me.  “This is the sweetest thing I have ever read, thank you… ummmmm… just need to run to the bathroom quick.”

This makes me nervous.  I take a big swig of my wine.  Pacing up and down in the apartment I wonder if this is the right decision.  Loving this man is so easy.  He is an amazing person but am I amazing for him.  I feel inadequate, like a swimmer just falling short of the A-team, am I out of my league?  Sure I am giving it a good try but is this trying too hard?  He comes out the bathroom and walks straight to me and gives me a big hug, “You are a really loving person and I am smitten by your fresh and untainted take on love.  I keep thinking you are just going to leave me for someone younger, but I love you too.  I just think that you will trade me in sooner rather than later…umm… I kinda have to meet someone somewhere real quick, I am going to have a smoke then I am gonna go.” I am a little surprised at his response.  Is he telling me that he loves me but can’t trust me? That he is with me but not banking on it turning into something real?  Am I living a life in love on my own? 

He picks up his box of smokes and walks to the balcony.  I totally forgot about the guy down stairs with the lights we set up on the floor.  And there he sees it ‘Marry Me”

He ignores the lights from below and continues to smoke.  I remain inside the apartment with fear of admitting that the light display is for him.  His cigarette seemed to last forever as we stood in silence.  I could hear the crackle of the tobacco burning with every drag he takes and the red tip burns bright with the backdrop of the moonlit ocean behind him.  He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray.  “I’m off lover.  Make yourself comfortable…have you eaten?  Why don’t you go down to the restaurant for dinner and I should be back by the time you are done eating.” 

He looks at me waiting for a response so I say, “ummm, yeah, sure… that should pass the time.”  He kisses me on the forehead and leaves.

Like a shy child on a playground who sat sharing his sweets with a potential friend only to have that said friend leave once the sweets are over, I felt completely stupid and used.  This was not at all how I had planned it.  This was not the way it is suppose to be.  Am I just hoping for something that probably wont come true, a far off fantasy that’s hard to reach?  Instead of going to the restaurant I decide to stay and clean up his home.  I start running the hot water in the sink and gently place the dirty glasses in it.  As I wipe each glass till its crystal clear I realize that there are plenty of champagne glasses.  Who was celebrating and what were they celebrating?

I immediately stopped washing.  I do not fit in here and as hard as I try its not going to fit.  I dry my hands and leave the apartment.  It’s the c-point, I am at commitment central and I am unsure if my decision is the correct one.  I am stuck in a conundrum, leave because I should go or stay because I want to stay.  I’ll love him, carry it with me and hopefully he will come after me, hopefully.  My knight…I will wait for you.

And I waited.

Glenn Frey - You Belong To The City - HD

Animal Sex...? Is there an easy way to address the topic.

So, if you have been following you would have seen that I have been pertaining certain characteristics of a certain animal to characteristics you might find in a lover or yourself.  To my surprise I had an influx of emails about screwing animals, where on can do this in South Africa and more specifically in Johannesburg.   How huge is bestiality in life today?  And in South Africa?

"SPCA spokesperson Christine Kuch said: "As much as it is by nature a hidden crime, many incidents are slowly coming to the forefront. Now, more than ever, animals are being violated because a misconception exists that having sex with an animal minimises the risks of contracting HIV. She mentioned that recently a three-month-old puppy had been "raped" and left at their offices in Sandton. Police are investigating but no one has been arrested." - this is a little bit of information that I pulled off the net that really disgusted me.


Am I to believe that this is an acceptable practice, whether it be based on a misconceived notion of safer sex or whether it's just another kink to some people, is this honestly something that is on the up and up?  Since when did we stop fucking each other and start fucking animals?  And what is it about an animal that would turn someone on?


I personally have been scared when it comes to animals... I was molested by a very large dog when I was a little boy.  How you might be wondering yet I am sure there are more readers who might have lived a similar ordeal.  I was playing in a friends garden when their large, Male lab started to get involved.  Eventually he jumped on top of me, pushing me to the ground and began going at it.  Of course I was too young to know what was going on but upon growing up I have since learnt that that Goddamn dog pounced on me and started fucking me till it came on my clothes.  Gross.  Naturally I am not a big fan of animals on heat and always take precautions when meeting a new 'mans best friend'.


I got this little bit of info from Wiki:

Africa: Among the Maasai, it was customary for older boys to have sexual relations with she-asses. Young Riffian boys (a Morrocan tribe) also had sexual liaisons with female asses. Among the Tswana of Africa, boys assigned to the care of cattle frequently engaged in zoosexual activity. It was also common in the Gusti tribes and considered rather harmless, but boys were reprimanded and warned against this activity. The fishermen of the East African coast "from the Red Sea to the Indian Ocean" are said to have had regular coitus with female dugong carcasses.

So, in my opinion I suggest that the day that animal turns around and says: "Please fuck my brains out" I think it best we just find another way of getting our rocks off... maybe try fucking a Bear???  As you can see from the most X-rated pic you will ever see on my blog, below.  Does that not seem a lot better than sticking it into a horse?

I Just Miss Him

So, the anniversary starts to creep up on me.  I thought that it would all feel different by the time I got here but my life just seemed to carry on.  The past few days have been really hard, spending the weekend with a friend crying on his shoulder about the fact that this week last year was the last time I spoke to my dad.  And I just miss the man so terribly much!

I still remember sitting next to his bed last year this time telling him that I could not stand to look at him in the sate that he was in.  Now, looking back, I feel like a total dick for saying that to him but honestly, at the time I thought that he would get better.  I believed he would pull out of it.  Unfortunately he did not and now there is no more time to sit next to the bed, talking about crap or just sitting in silence.  Now there is no more silly emails from my pops or a surprise deposit into my account to remind me he is thinking of me.  I miss the man so damn much.

So to every person who has ever lost someone to the cold kiss of death my sympathy goes out to you and with that same hand stretched out I tell you that you are not alone, so many of us in this world have lost someone so dear to us and we carry on, masking up the pain and the hurt, believing that time heals all wounds.  It really doesn't, time just keeps life rolling along and ones life just goes along with it but the hurt of longing to speak to someone you can never speak to again is everlasting.  So I just miss the man so terribly much.

Due Date

This is a pretty cool little flik yo'
What I guess I dug about it was the fact that I could identify with both of the characters.  On one side there is a guy who can't really deal with the fact that his father has passed away and he keeps having little melt downs on the road to letting go.  And then on the other side there is this guy who is at the beginning of a new life and he is afraid of the changes, he has anger problems and has furious little meltdowns.  Now by that definition alone I just outed myself as someone who has emotional and angry meltdowns through my week... hahaha.

Nonetheless I could identify, which always makes a movie enjoyable to watch - when you want to see how it turns out for the characters and therefore how it might turn out for you - at least this way a viewer will view to the end.


It is funny as shit, really got me laughing out loud... and the fucking man sports a perm for crying out loud! And in the end it is a love story, between two men albeit there no sex but who really wants to see those two going at it?  Gross.

When is it too much?

I love hair.  I am totally into hairy guys but when is it too much?  When does it go from a preference to a kinky obsession?  And how ill I know I am going overboard?

I guess I sort of have a pattern (of hair) I like... hairy chest, down the stomach to the pubes without anything on the back, sides or shoulders.
Is this asking too much or is it just oddly specific about something that might never really come my way?  And what is it about hair that turns me on... is it purely aesthetic? Is it the way it looks?  I mean you cant exactly run your tongue around a body covered in hair.
I think it is twirling my fingers through black swirls of curling hair that gets me going.  The feel of the tickle on the palm of my hand and the scratching sound it makes when I rub it up and down just warms the cockles of my cockle.

Its just something I am into... you know...

Something I am not into, Golden Showers.
So you see, I was invited to the house of this very wealthy man.  He had a great body, very shy so he did not really make too much eye contact but one drink after the other and I was back at his place.  He had this huge house that I was just not expecting and for the first time I felt like a real estate whore, meaning I did not care who I was having sex with so long as it was up against those windows with that view in the foreground.  Not even a kiss and I had whipped off most of my clothes, standing in a pair of jeans - I figured I should be forward and aggressive to keep the upper hand - unfortunately my dominance opened up the door to a whole other game.  After a clever little sentence I was suddenly pissing in the face of this, what I thought was a, gentleman.  Damn how the dark comes out!

After that I realized I was so totally not into Golden Showers, not my thing at all, and granted I did not judge the man, after all I was standing there doing the pissing for fuck sake... I just thought why the fuck am I doing this?  It is not turning me on, in fact I want to laugh... at myself, for putting myself in a position where I can judge myself... Ridiculous!  So I excused my drunk ass and went home.  My embarrassed stupid drunk ass.

(I just need to say how funny it was to try find a good pic, typing up all the pissing things I could.  Imagine my surprise when Kim Kardashian comes up when you type sexy man pissing, hahaha)

So I think saying I dig hairy guys is starting to seem a whole lot more ordinary and less kinky when you take into consideration what is actually out there. Haha

Each to their own I guess...
Happy hunting!!! (I have not said that in a while)

A Quick: Piscean Put your Heart away Today

Apparently I am obsessed with one particular thing today...  please.  I think I am usually obsessed.  If something doesn't consume me whole, what is the point in doing it at all?  To live completely, to feel it all and express so little, is that not the role of the fish?  Or maybe I am hesitant of my future...

From a personal opinion, I feel that we the fish look forward and backwards so often that we rarely to look around.  Living in the future or the past, trying to guide through the current while always having that rear view mirror to remind us of where we came from.  Maybe the current could just stop for a minute...?  Or maybe I could just have one 48hour day.  One day where I have double the amount of time to get done everything I need to and want to do.

So, as frustrating as reading the scope might have been, I watched one of the most beautiful sunrises over the city - it was so pink, like a Jozzie sunset - and decided I am going to try focus purely on what needs to get done today.  Now if only I could find a character for the story I am writing, documentary story writing can be so infuriating.

The Tourist

Okay, so I tend to be really slow at seeing things sometimes, probably because I wait for word of mouth telling me what films are out of this world amazing.  I can actually understand why anyone who might have seen the movie probably would not have raved about it, it is totally up its own ass... but I like that.

At first I had no idea what to expect from the movie and I don't want to ramble on about the plot in the spirit that maybe you have not seen it yet.  So pay attention to the fluidity of the entire film, the water, the movements.  Pay attention to the timing, its paced to perfection.  And don't ignore all the sparkle... its there for a reason.

In the end it's a rad little love story.  Like really rad.  Some flawless acting got me totally side tracked exactly the way they wanted me to get totally side tracked and that really was through the acting.

Suddenly violins start rolling, everything moves in slow motion and an 'I love you' is mouthed before a moment of calm.... then bullets fly though the window.  This is the moment you climax.  Enjoy it.

So if you are into odd little love stories give this one a go, its sexy, funny and puts a lovely spin on the whole Love is Blind theory.

Björk - Army Of Me

It is something that has always made me feel sexy. If I were entering a room and I would have a theme song it would be this song. Its so mechanical and industrial sounding and it makes me think of dancing in a dark warehouse surrounded by burly beefy men without shirts all moving slowly with each other and once it gets really hot the sprinklers burst and wetness ensues...

lamb gorecki

Number 2

This is the real intimate side of it all mmmmmmmm....

Massive Attack - Unfinished Sympathy

Number 3

Deliciously smooth love making.

Fuck you like an animal - Nine inch nails

Number 4

Oh, so sexy... Trent and I have something to talk about.

Kelis - Young, Fresh N' New

Number 5

The countdown begins of songs that get me a little hot, turn me on and leave me a little damp down there.

Something Never-ending?

There is a man, can you see he is a soul without a mind.  And there is another man, just a body without a heart.
Are they missing crucial parts?

I remember the time when I have been out of love before and how it could be with you, next to you and inside of you.
You really hurt me baby. You really hurt me!
How can you have a day without a night?
Like a man with a bucket of water, your love you did pour.
Because you are a book that I have opened and I need to know so much more.
but the source dried up... where are the rains?
A prince?
some gold?
The lies you told
You really hurt me baby.  You really hurt me.

From "Unfinished Symphony"  by Massive Attack

Ten Virgins did What?

Ten virgins took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom out in the bush.  Five of them were foolish and five were wise.  The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them.  The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps.  The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.

    At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’

    Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’

   ‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’

    But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.

   Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’

   But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’

   Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.

Matthew 25:1-13

Ostrich... it tastes like beef

So, with the occasional M&M mishap, I have actually been on a real mission to try beef up.  Pushing weights regularly and upping my protein intake.  It all seems to be working well but since I switched all my beef intake to ostrich it has really made a difference.  Leaner and tastier, I really have been having fun with all the different cuts. 

• Ostrich meat resembles beef in looks and taste
• When compared to other types of white meat, like chicken and turkey, ostrich meat has low fat content and the calories in ostrich meat is also very low. 
• To be more precise, ostrich meat has 66% less fat than beef, 50% less fat than chicken and less calories than chicken, turkey, pork, lamb and beef.
• Ostrich meat is rich in proteins and contains more iron than beef, lamb, turkey, chicken and pork.
• It can also be observed that ostrich meat does not have fat marbling, as seen in beef.
• The popularity of ostrich meat may also be due to its sweeter and richer taste when compared to other types of meat. 
• For cooking, it has to be noted that ostrich meat cooks faster, as it has very low fat content.

Here is a little quick pasta dish to get you going:


250g Ostrich Mince
1/2 Onion
2 cloves of garlic
1 chili
5 ripe tomatoes
fresh Basil
5 medium sized brown mushrooms
Wine


Pasta


Crush the garlic and chop up the onion.  
Fry the garlic till a little bronze and then add the onion.
Once the onion browns remove.
Fry the ostrich - remember to keep it in chunks as appose to breaking it into fine parts.
Add the chopped chili, simmer for 10 min and remove from stove.
Slice the mushrooms and fry to remove all water.
Place wine and tomatoes in a large pot and bring to the boil.
Once the tomatoes soften reduce to thicken the sauce.
Add onion mix, mince and mushrooms into the tomato sauce.
Add the basil and allow to simmer on a low heat while you prepare the pasta.


And Enjoy

Arrogance - He is Like the Wind

So is it merely having an exaggerated sense of gravity and noteworthiness or are our truths - to others - sometimes just easier to swallow when seen as arrogant. Can that sense of importance really be how we see ourselves and in turn the outward appearance of being comfortable with oneself is seen as arrogant to others. When did dignity and honor turn into self obsession? And does our said arrogance's hinder us from making connections with the fellow humans we share our world with?

Here is a little story about arrogance:

A beautiful man is dancing in the middle of the dance floor with his eyes closed. Totally enveloped in the beat. He moves from side to side feeling the music through his bones. This is his moment to try connect with his soul on a deeper level. This is this gay mans version of praying and meditating and attempting to achieve a spiritual connection.

A beautiful boy on the side cannot stop staring at him. Eventually the boy approaches the man but slowly edging his way closer and closer. When he finally reaches his destination he offers the man a drink.

"Why are you bothering me," the man said "What is it you want?

"I just wanted to get to know you" the boy replied.

"Cant you see I am trying to connect with my soul... go away."

"How can you expect to connect with your soul when you can't even connect with a humble soul such as myself?"

Are we too busy worrying about ourselves to see what is standing in front of us offering us a drink?

I wasn't. I took him up on the offer, said yes to that drink and was left to finish it on my own. How did my arrogance get in the way? Was it because I was too excited I was going out on a date? Did that excitement read as desperate and was it palpable? Or is that comfort of meeting a challenge or offer head on a little disconcerting in terms of appearing available but never really being available? Is it because I am not ever really available?

So in the spirit of admitting our arrogance's, here is a song to any man who is ever brave enough to fall in love with me....

Does it hurt to look?

Scope them out at the gym, in the mall or at work.  Hell if it is on show I will take a peek.

Here is a blog filled with giant packages on delivery for you...


http://www.locker-room-jocks.com

Check it out yo'...
...just because it's there.

The Hour Glass Lover

You know him, you have had him, that illusive man that comes into your life and flips it around causing the sand to flow in another direction.  He captivates your mind with his thoughts of the grandeur of love.  His ideals appeal and it is near impossible to resist him.

Oh, Durban boys.

They flip my world around and always have.  They are so cool and relaxed.  A little repressed with the lack of activities in the area but that in turn makes them interesting, new and fairly untouched.  My Durban boy flipped my hour glass around, climbed inside the glass and let the sand granules - that is my life - pour all over him and at the same time stealing a few granules for himself.  He changed the pace of my life and made me re-asses what I was doing and where exactly I was heading.  It is almost like he forced me to sign a new lease on life that encouraged me to live life and not just allowing the day to day flow of it to become the norm.

It was not the inertia alone that made me feel that my life was an endless stream of nothingness but the idea that I had resided to living a life alone in quiet desperation for something else that made me feel unfulfilled and dead.  Are we just looking for ways to feel alive?  Is a routine the beginning of an end?  And can one man really come in to our lives and re-arrange the furniture that the flow is better and the view extraordinary?

It happened to me.  After our tornado of a relationship was gone I was left in complete disparagement.  Was it that the excitement had ended or is it just a case of another boyfriend down the pipe line?  Did I loose a soul mate, or did a mate just take a piece of my soul?  And if the latter is true how does one begin to replace that piece that was so carelessly taken?

I went on a sexual deviant rampage.  The empty piece in my heart made way for a very personal method of self destruction, it is almost as though I was half the man I was suppose to be and the caring loving side was no more.  I went out bar jumping and bed hoping with hopes of replacing it.  Was it satisfying?  It was more of an expression of self hate and I would impose that hate onto any man willing to take it.  Surprisingly enough there are many men out there eager for a little bit of salacious degradation from a sexual partner.  And this was by no means my proudest moment in life.

In the end my life was more of a vase with water and he was the flowers.  Once the flowers were gone it took time to clean out the vase and replace it with clean water for the next florist to come along and decorate it. so lets always try keep our vases clean and half full.

Tell Someone Today

Tell that man you have been looking at that he is attractive.
Grab some balls and tell him you want to take him for a beer.
Collect your courage and let him know you think he is beautiful.
Put your big boy pants on and change your confidence into a higher gear.
What's the worst that could happen?
Mortification lasts only a second in time.
The memory of courage lasts forever.
Today is you in your prime.
Grab hold of your life for the sheer chance that love is around the corner, around the bend yet right in front of you.
Reach out and touch it!

Antony And The Johnsons/Aeon

Families, threesomes, love and a lie!

It was sunset and as the sky lit up with colours of soft pinks and bright oranges, shades of magenta with a splash of aquamarine I came to the top of a hill in a small park near the school in my neighborhood and sat down.  On the one side, the hill perched above the suburb like a huge roof patio; it allowed me to watch over its residence like a hawk.  The other side was a view of the city the suburb lives off of, the way a pilot fish lives off of a shark.  The suburb offers a family a safe haven for their children to grow up.  A place where people walk in the streets for leisure and where they greet each other even though they might not know each other.  A friendly happy place free of the grit, grime and hard work that makes a city work.

Families = building blocks of society… so what am I?

I don’t have a family.  I don’t intend on having a family… or should I rather say I don’t intend on having children, as I do come from a great loving family.  But as I look around at the parents playing gaily with their children I wonder how am I going to make up the love that a family has for each other without having a child?  Furthermore I start to wonder if a suburban life style is the style of life I should be trying to live up to?  I love the idea of a unit.  The family is a unit.  It’s a group and nothing can penetrate it.  In that impenetrable circle exists a few completely unique individuals with their own dreams and aspirations and view points, whereas the love I feel with someone I am in love with, is more of a sacrifice of ones own identity in hopes of forming a new identity, away from ‘you and me’ and make it into an “us”.

So does the answer lie in taking lovers?  Would two satisfy the hunger for a love bigger and greater than I ever would have imagined?  I have the capability to love more than one man.  Maybe the love I have is three different types of love.  There are three words for love in the koine Greek language, Eros, Philo and Agape.  “Eros” being love based on sexual contact and sometimes emotion. “Philo” is love at its most basic of trade offs; if you love me I will love you back. The third, “Agape”, is the most pure and real form of love, where we love expecting absolutely nothing in return. 

So what if I am Agape and I take two lovers, Philo and Eros, to satisfy all my needs?  Will they be able to satisfy each other?

 I have loved for sex and emotion, once the passion dries up or my emotions inevitably change, that love seems to dwindle.  It’s love that is based on that physical connection.  Even a small amount of time apart from each other, not holding each other, will allow that love to dissipate like smoke in a breeze. 

Loving you for loving me has no excitement to it, its safe.  This love feels so empty.  Its expiration date depends entirely on the love I would get in return.  I wont be treated special or spoilt.  It’s a one for one and tit for tat situation. 

Three lovers can only work if all three love Agape style.  People don’t love that way. Although, one night of erotic man love will definitely work if the three men in question are loving each other Eros style.

Families that work well love each other without expectations from each other.  This love is most prevalent in families than in relationships between lovers.  Is it impossible to find love from others that is not based on anything you may have to offer them?  And if people only love for love in return or sex or emotional support then why not write the whole idea of “love” off as another tool to barter with?  Then if that is the case, how can it be so wrong to use love as merchandise to get what you want?

Is it the love formed in a unit that causes so much ostracism for those not part of the unit?  What if someone grew up without the loving warmth of a closed circuit of people that watch each other’s backs, a person without a family?  Is there love in their life or are they destined to walk the earth without ever feeling the joy of loving another human being and being loved in return. 

It was that point I reached down beside me for the Micro-Uzi hidden underneath my coat.  Not one person even seemed to notice the creepy man in the large black trench coat standing on the top of the hill holding a machine gun swaying from side to side.  And I stood there for a few minutes to see how long it would take for someone to notice me.  And then someone did, a mother with a small child.  She screams out in shear horror and I begin to open fire, offloading bullets at the rate of over 1000 rounds per minute.  No one is safe from the machine gun wielding mad man that I have become.  Bullets flew through the air hitting so many unsuspecting victims.  Taking out all the mothers who ever ushered their children away from me when I was with my lover.  Taking out all the fathers who treat me like a pedophile just because I am gay.  Taking out every child that will inevitably be infected by the hypocrisy of the loving family unit.  I mean, do you know how many happily married men I have slept with in my life?

Ok, so now that I have your attention I can tell you I would never open fire on innocent families.  However what is your answer to the lie that is; a mother, a father and two children are a family and a unit, and that unit is the building block to any society?  What am I then… decoration?

Skater Boys are Hot

Do You Remember the First Time you Fell in Love??

It just happens, like walking down a hot beach for miles you barely notice how long you have been walking when suddenly that first tide-coming-in wave washes over your hot and sandy feet.  Life is walking down a hot sandy beach and love is that cool ocean kissing the top of your feet.

It just happens.
One night I am sitting in a bar telling a girlfriend that a guy sitting on the couch has the sexiest neck I have ever seen.  Now you see, I have a total neck fetish.  Love them.  Give me an interesting neck and I will chew on it like a puppy with a new play toy... delicious.  Once my darling girlfriend goes off to the bathroom - on my command of course - I stare at the sexy neck man to at least see if he acknowledges my presence.  Not only does he see me but he comes over to ask me for a lighter.  I politely light his cigarette.  With a cute smile from him and a little one eyed wink from me we part ways.

After the whole 'turn to see if he is still looking' game we eventually found ourselves side by side at the bar having a few drinks.  Drinks at the bar turned into drinks at a lounge next door.  I worked it, pulled out all the cute little side banta jokes followed with the ever dreamy pearly white grin of mine, admittedly I was smitten from the word go.  I was totally crushing on this guy it was ridiculous.  I did not even want to wait, I wanted him to join me back at my place that very night.  Unfortunately, or cleverly, he had to take a friend home and could not accompany me back to my place - please who are we kidding here - back to my bed.  So I had to settle for giving him my number.

I was so sure I had it in the bag.  I was getting that call.  I mean he came up to me and then I was as charming as all get out... wasn't I?  Was I too much?  Did I come off as trying too hard?  Because I can tell you that call never came.  I waited and waited and that damn call never came through.

Bullshit!  I felt so silly.  So silly that I went off to the sauna near campus to have a little tickle with some married man I will never see in my life again.
After a few more married men tickles I got bored and just threw myself back into studying.

Imagine my surprise one night wired to the max out on the Melville streets and this blue eyed dream boat approaches me and says "Do you have a light"  Please, I know this boy with his delicious neck and if he is pulling that exact same line with me again, albeit 3 months from the initial encounter, he was mine.  Right?  He wants me too?  He is just a little chicken shit to close the deal.  But that is fine, I like the effort first, it makes it easier for me to seal it off in the end.  Unfortunately I was already on my way home because I was about to 'wake' up to go away on a family vacation.  Not letting him slide I did the unthinkable, I invited him along.  He said sure, and he even picked me up and drove.  That was the first time my parents would meet another gay guy besides myself and it was over an entire weekend and we shared a room.   And that is the first time I fell in love.

Almost seven years ago that man came into my life and flipped it around.  Well, granted my life was a series of gross drug binges so it was not difficult to actually flip it around but he came along and flipped it all on a new direction.  He made me see past my uninteresting and jejune life.  He reminded me that there is more to me, and to life and together that boy and I grew up and taught each other what loving someone else was all about.

You never forget your first.

Hot Cop or Not?

I thought I might just share my ridiculous costume I wore to my Brother's 30th birthday.

Animal Sex Totem (Number 6)

Giraffe

The ultimate in communication with the higher intuition.
This lover craves progression in love and love-making and seeks progression in all aspects of life.

You will reach higher spiritual grounds if you dance the dance of love with this honey.

The Giraffe is tall and proud and teaches us to plan for the future, look beyond immediacies and set goals to grow and aspire to.

origin of love (with lyrics)

Are we Drugs or Puppies? By Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

So, below is my article published in this months issue of Exit.  http://www.exit.co.za/

If only there was a relationship rehab we could go to in order to take the time away from reality, to allow our bodies to expel it all.  A place where reality just sank into the background and time kind of stops so that our blood can circulate over and over again until all the love has seeped out our pours with our sweat.  Somewhere we can deal with being singled… where we can stand up one by one and say “Hi, My name is Juanne-Pierre and I have been dumped”. 

 Love can actually be measured in our brains.  It is proven and tested that when in love a certain part of the brain activates a euphoric stimulation.  Quite similar to the rush one would get if one were to hit back a line of cocaine.  So is love really just an addiction?  And how do we cut the habit?

One beautiful evening at a dinner party, at a friends home who was much older than myself, I was told that guys in their twenties are like a drug.  All of the older guys admitted to being recreational users.  Indulging in the bliss of the naïve twenty something life only momentarily, for a taste, for a rush and before you know it they are back to there own lives.  Intrigued by the whole comparison I wondered, could a man in his forties and a guy in his twenties ever really find a way to be on the same track?  Is that love real?  And who is the drug and who is the substance?

Now if we break down a user we can begin to get a clearer understanding of exactly what they are using.  So someone addicted: will do anything for what they want, will lie to the people closest to them about their addiction, will sneak it in whenever they can, will experience a change in their exterior appearance

The substance, on the other hand, can be classified exactly as what it is, a substance.  The user in turn makes it into whatever they want it to be.  So the man in his forties is the user and the guy in his twenties is the substance?  Can the two not just have fallen in love?

The men at the table are quick to remind me of the love heroin and a heroin addict form.  That really special bond that only comes from true addiction.  The user loves using heroin and the heroin loves being used.  This seems extreme.  Way too extreme.  Am I to believe that I am like heroin?  So what?  In a few years we will go off, and then we are safe to use for more than just recreation?  Did we not deserve more respect than that?  And who exactly is determining our worth based on our age?

After slating my last relationship, the men felt the need to throw salt in the wounds by informing me that the twinks are the one’s for sex.  The twinks are the really good drugs and I am by no means age appropriate to be classified as a twink anymore.  I am way too old to be a twink?  I knew this but it still sucks to hear it said to my face.  Apparently guys in their twenties are split in two.  So then exactly what am I to older men…? 

A puppy!  I am a sugar daddy’s puppy.  I am there purely for entertainment.  Once I grow to become a dog I will be set free on a farm somewhere, to roam the grounds with all the other dogs.

So… now I am a heroin-pushing puppy?

Okay. 

Then where is my owner?  If I am a puppy where is my keeper?  Why am I sitting with a group of older men on my ace?  Am I the ugly puppy, the last one in the box, the runt with the dirt patches that’s really part of my coat?

After their laughter starts to subside they build up anticipation for their response.  Apparently, I am still alone because I am a puppy that bites.  That wild puppy with the bouncing personality, chewing anything it feels needs to be chewed.  Urinating where the territory needs to me marked.  That puppy everyone loves and everyone hates.  The feral beast that is just untamable and completely wild.

I was humbled by the acute observation and down right honest opinions, even if in the end it does turn me into a vivacious terror puppy with heroin strapped to the waist.  Who can say no to that?  But who can’t see that that will be bad for them?  It does seem a little dangerous…

So are relationships a little misplaced, in their general sense of propriety, based on whom we are supposed to be dating?  And if so, who is the one deciding what is best in any given relationship in terms of age, skin, creed and sex?  Relationships always consisted of two people and I was always under the impression that it would be those said people who would decide exactly how there relationship will pan out.  Don’t we set the rules anymore?

Maybe after all of it we are actually the ones addicted to our older lovers.   Maybe we are addicted to the torture of loving someone completely unattainable.   So from the viewpoint of the twenty-something guy, maybe older guys are the brand new designer drugs…

Or maybe, just maybe, some of us really are just wild puppies and wild dogs, destined to run free until we find someone just as wild to run with.

Poster art and Book covers... decisions, decisions.

 We go through life making decisions based on the fact that we think that the outcome will be best for us, for our own personal growth and development and our general well being.  Our outward appearance sometimes plays a part in what those closest to us think of us.  In love, should an appearance ever hinder your impression of a lover?  Can we make decisions based on this?  How do we know what is the right decision, and the hurt that can come from that said decision, will it leave us with a feeling of remorse?

In relationships we often find ourselves in a situation where we have to decide on a route of action.  More often than not we regret our decisions based on the “What could have been principle”, but are we too proud to admit we were wrong?  Does life have to change in admitting our mistakes?  Or is it just part of growing up?  When did our pride override our hearts? 

I have a friend who I we met a long time ago when I started following her blog and she is madly in love with a man,.  He is absolutely dreamy; handsome, smart, attentive and devoted.  She just recently broke up with him because she feels he does not see her for the person she really is.  She blames her blog.  She feels her writing left more of an imprint on him than she ever could.  Can an impression leave a lasting imprint on a persons mind?  Do we fall in love with the idea of a person?  And can love ever-just break all barriers, transform opinions and reshape an ideal of our universe?   

This kick started a chain of thoughts; is my appearance making a clear depiction of the person I am, is my writing closer to the real Juanne-Pierre than I would like to admit and are people ever really willing to get to know a person without any prejudices or judgments? 

My tattoos are distinctive and personalized to suite a certain aspect in my life that I have lived through and learnt from.  They reflect something very personal to me however, are the tattoos a representation of a person a little far removed from the person I am and can something as unique as an individual’s personal choice in appearance really juxtapose the person we are actually trying to reflect?   So how far apart is the man I am, the man I want to be and the man I appear to be?

If I were to be a writer, would I have to reflect an image that says I can write?  Would no tattoos, a softer mid section and fuzzy hair imply that I sit in front of my mac all day writing, ergo I am a writer?  Or have we as society misplaced the sense of propriety in terms of the image should fit the profession?

In the end I believe we are all multi faceted individuals who choose to express ourselves in different forms.  Do we choose to express all of these facets in our outward appearance or just one?  If I look at myself I would say I am a writer, photographer, hiker, swimmer, film buff, short story reader, smoker, stoner, very sexual … now which of these would I choose to portray and why?

I chose the one that involves someone else.  And by that I mean, I portray the aspect of myself that actually requires another person and not something I do alone.  In high insight I read alone, watch film alone and critique them, write on my own and read, smoke alone, get high alone and take my camera out and about alone.  Therefore my sexual nature was the one I acted on.  Is this the best portrayal of what exactly I have to offer… maybe what I have to offer on one particular night.

I still believe never to judge a book by its cover however you can judge a film based on the poster, so the real trick is differentiating between the people that are films or books in life.