My Favorite Posts



Above are links to the original posts.  Click on them if you would like to see them with pictures.  Otherwise enjoy the read...


 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. 





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)




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?





In relationships, why is it so easy to remember the man we fell in love with but so difficult to appreciate the man we are in love with?  When we first meet, all the right things happen.  Our palms sweat, our heart beats faster and we stumble over our words.  Once love takes hold so does reality and the dreamy, perfect man you first met slowly starts to become human.  When did we go from Pretty Woman to Judge Judy?

My friend Kevin met his lover when he was thirty.  They spent years traveling the world, accumulating wealth and having amazing sex.   Eventually his lover wanted to settle down and live the calm life.  It was eight years later; Kevin is now in his late thirties, in a sexless relationship and cruising men whenever he can.  Is companionship something we settle for?  And after years of making love to the same person does it really get boring?  Like a successful ice cream stand, is a relationship that works about having variety?

This made me think of the relationships we all strive for.  Is it a fair assessment to say that we all look for different things?  I look for fidelity when choosing a lover based on the fact that I am a one-man kind of guy, however I would pretty much get up to whatever my lover wants to get up to.  So would their indiscretions on their own alter the love I feel for them?  In retrospect, no but it alters the perception of the relationship I think I am in.  Say a relationship is like walking down a path, one side is dry and the other has puddles.  Now if I am walking down this path with someone I would choose to walk on the dry side, however if my lover chooses to jump in the puddles I am going to follow suite and jump in the puddles too but don’t you go jumping in the puddles by yourself and force me to stay dry.

Should I be choosing a side and sticking to it?  Am I too easily swayed?  What is it I actually want?  I want someone who wants to be faithful to me because they actually enjoy being with me not because if they cheat it would make them a bad person.  Fidelity that comes from the heart, is that not the ultimate goal?  And when we find it why is it so hard to trust that it is the real thing?

We are all attracted to people for yet to be discovered reasons.  We are naturally drawn to something we find appealing and attractive.  Should we not be waiting to see the flaws, the character traits that make us human, before we decide to go falling in love?  Should love be unconditional in terms of accepting the flaws?  If we all have flaws then it’s not a secret that we inevitably will discover them. 

Is acceptance the key to keeping a relationship alive?  I think acceptance in the fact that we have flaws is a great start but the true test is whether we are prepared to work through those flaws with another.  As men, we go after what we want no matter what gets in the way.  Therefore, if we want to keep the passion alive for years to come with another person then it’s all up to us how badly we actually want it.  Complacency in a relationship is like mould on cheese… it can be cut off.




So, a supernova is a star that explodes and leaves a bright light that may burn for several months. Some stars explode and what remains is a neutron star. Some explode and disappear entirely and what remains is a black hole where the gravitational pull is so great light cannot escape it. One movie has two such stars, the great Bette Davis and unforgettable Joan Crawford in one of the must see movies of all time “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”.
The movie is by far one of the finest acted films I have ever sat at the edge of my seat watching. Its rich flavor of dark and macabre is so finally tuned between the mesmerizing performances and the focal events. Think… the buzzer, the serving dish, the shadows, the stairs, the creepy song sang in front of the mirror… I’ve written a letter to daddy! It’s a film about two has-beens with a sordid history trying to exist together in a house to spite the fact that they are sisters who loath each other, oops, did I just give away the plot…

Who cares, I want to talk about Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, I mean if you have not yet seen the movie do yourself a favor and go get it! I want to few seconds to talk about two cinematic legends during the ‘Studio Runs Everyone Times” aka 1930’s. Now as their careers wind down, they both receive the greatest rolls of their lives and they both manage to pull it off beautifully.

Now how are these two stars different? Well from where I sit, a boy born in Springs, South Africa 1983, I really have two main references to go by, Bette Davis has a song written about her eyes that kinda rocks my boat and poor Joan Crawford has a bad movie made about her abusive nature with her adopted child called Mommy dearest starring the wonderfully crazy Faye Dunaway.

Now either way, whether in their personal lives they are someone to be looked down upon or be forever immortalized as an inspiration, they are both impeccable at what they do on screen. I try not to get sucked into the personal lives of those that entertain me because it will undoubtedly affect the way I view the work they do. Let none of it influence you as you sit down with a bowl of popcorn in front of your huge flat screen tv and relish the opportunity to eat up one of cinema’s all time greats!





Stretched out on the hot sand, I stare out at all the men in their different speedos.  The cut of the tight brief swimming shorts frames an ass to perfection and then there are times when it is less than desirable.  This got me thinking about relationships.  How would Lycra be a comparison for relationships?  When it’s not a perfect fit then it’s a complete disaster. 

Spending some time outside my usual box I was invited, by Greg, to join him at a pig party.  Now my impression of a Pig Party was a party where you paid a cover charge and then drank till you were slaughtered.  I had misgivings purely based on that fact, but I was somewhat mollified when I was informed that it was not what was expected.  Goodie!  I enjoy something new; it’s like the first time in a lecture hall, so enthusiastic, ready to take in everything.  So, ready with my pen in my hand I accompanied Greg to the Pig Party.

I wanted to know what to wear but apparently a kit is required not really an outfit.  Nude bar!  Damn, I forgot about those.  So clothes off and in we go.

It’s a very dark bar and for some time I was very disorientated.  Did we come up stairs?  Which way is the street?  Ok, then where is the mountain?  I could not get my bearings but I assume that was part of the appeal.

Masters and slaves and a sex pig roaming around.  Was this entertainment?  Is this a thrill to some people?  Have we evolved to this, degradation and humiliation as ways of stimulation?  And then, just when I was about to cast myself into the barrel of prudes, it happened.  A slave had accidentally been stepped on - well what did he expect rolling on the floor - nonetheless, he was stepped on and his master tended to him.  I could here him speak softly…”Lover, can I take you home?”  “No, I am fine.” “I’m taking you home, you are hurt my baby…” and he picked him up off of the floor and took him home.

Was I being too judgemental?  Did I miss the whole point?  Hidden amongst the dark, the smell of lube, the taste of leather and the loud music was a couple.  Was this a catalyst for their foreplay or were they just bored one night and decided this would be fun?  In the end I could see two people that fit, like a speedo.  It may not have been my cut and it was a little dark but it fit perfectly for them, and that my dear readers is a beautiful thing.




I love horror films. Just love them! From the German expressionism circa 1919 to some of the stuff they release today. A Nightmare on elm Street is probably the film that started my love for the genre so needless to say I am totally looking forward to the remake of the 1984 classic.


I find horror films so rich with subtext, as it is more about the message than the actual events. Films like "The Last House on the Left" tend to be so difficult to watch as it appears to just be gratuitous violence dripping with disdain. On closer inspection you will see that above it all the movie challenges the audience to make a decision on what is right and what is wrong. How far must one go for revenge before it becomes more than just an eye for an eye?

As I do more research into the world of the horror genre I learn more about the filmmakers and the time they were made. Two films in particular really amaze me and its surprising to find out that the films at the time of release were received so badly that it ended the directors careers.


The first one 'Freaks' was a Tod Browning masterpiece. It is also the film that started the whole killer-crawling-on-the-floor-with-a-knife scene that is ever so popular in zombie films.


At the time the film about real life
circus freaks was too much for the audiences to handle but now the film is classified as one of the all time horror greats. I tend to agree and I am glad that it achieved the cult status it deserves unfortunately the director could not be around to enjoy the praise that he so deserved.


The second of the two films is Peeping Tom by Michael Powell. A film that when released was seen as a perverted film, a macabre story only to satisfy the truly disturbed viewer.
I found the film to be rather boring at times with a main character that is easily forgettable however the film is an inspiration in the sense that it unabashedly flaunts the pleasure in watching to gain sexual gratification from the perspective of a killer and then from us as the audience… how much do we like to watch? How much do we need to see?
Voyeurism is such a rich tapestry to play with in film for the obvious, you are in fact watching. I found that trying to incorporate it into a film as a theme adds a whole new dimension to a film in terms of studying it and breaking a film down. It literally speaks to you as the viewer; about what you are viewing… is it right or wrong? Black or white? Left or right? It challenges you to think about what you are watching.

This film is remarkable in taking you into the viewing room of a snuff film and although you may not be doing the killing how innocent do you think you are by merely just watching?
This film was not necessarily trying to introduce the mainstream market to the dark underground world of Snuff movies but take the audience on a new journey of horror, a sort of study on the sexual gratification a voyeur might get from watching and in this film the Peeping Tom so happens to get a little hard in the pants from watching fear on a woman’s face. The movie is so multi faceted in the psychology behind a killer with a sick fetish for recording and then viewing fear and feels years ahead of its time. It would only find the audience it deserves years later once poor Michael Powell’s career as a filmmaker is totally crippled without any hope of recovery.








So its been a while since the last time I wrote anything but sitting in the sun in England just prompted me to start writing again...
Yes, you could be asking yourself what the hell am I doing in London. so far my response has been "I'm chasing the sun" and funny enough it seems to be working. My tan has never looked so good in the middle of what is suppose to be my winter.
Now what can I say about London Town...? so many people have come out North in search of something...usually that something is themselves however I think I am too old to try find out who I am. For god sake, if I don't know by now I never will. So what the hell am I doing here? I guess trying to reconnect with the person i am suppose to be. So much got lost over the last year and its time to get hold again.
Now after that little slice of pie, lets get down to the real funnies...
Probably the most amazing thing i have done here was spade a man in an unlikely place. I was out to lunch with T's family, so I was on a family thing even though they are not really my family. Suddenly i notice something with curly dark locks just inside the coffee shop. As I turn to T to ask her opinion the dark and curly turns and has a good look at me. Now if this was the gym I would know I was in there and a few seconds later i would be all over him...unfortunately its not the gym, its Canary Wharf, bankers paradise. All these men in suits and some manly women, hehehe. Now of course I thought it would just be bad form of me to go and ask a man in a suit sitting with work colleagues if he would like to go on a date with me seeing how i am involved in a family orientated lunch. But in the end I thought fuckit, I am totally on VA CA which means i am not suppose to be playing it cool, calm and collected. I got my balls together and decided to ask him if he wanted to join me for a beer. Naturally he turned me down, without a good reason but its still no in the end anyway. As I make my way back to T with my balls now in my throat guess who comes running back...dark and curly!!! He said his work colleagues were so impressed with my approach they encouraged him to come back and ask for my number. WOOHOO!!! What an ego boost!
So in the end what I learnt is go for what you want and you might just get it:-) However, once I got it I didn't actually know what to do with it...!?

So I landed up going for a drink with who is now referred to as Frenchie, for the obvious, he's French. The night turned out to be completely worth the effort and the whole damn experience gave me a new sense of confidence. So go for it guys, spade where you can spade and take no prisoners. The world is your oyster so try nab everything you think is worth nabbing, hehehe.

Happy hunting until next time:-)

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