Sex Wednesdays

If you’re looking for the normal Sexually based posts, but can’t find them? Then head over to SEX WEDNESDAYS!

WordPress was being a little bitch with me because of the sexual nature, but censored photos, of my blogs that they decided to close me off from the public eye.

B(ee) Porn

The bees are still here. I had to get two plastic bags, three socks and a lot of raid and plugged all their entrances. Luckily for you all, these bees left behind their dirty pics:

Of course, I lie. Bees don’t need porn to get off, they’re on constant vibrate mode. But wouldn’t your honey buzzing her way into bed with this little outfit on? Really? That’s weird, yo.

Of course this little number might get the vibration between the sheets going. (Yeah, I’m lame that way.)

I suppose you’re all not wanting to read what I have to say about the bee situation, or what I think about each picture and I respect that, but this is, however, MY blog and you’re just a visitor. You don’t really have that much of a say. Sadly - yet gladly - none of these pictures are censored because there wasn’t anything too pornographic in nature about them. However, and I hope this works, each of them is linked to the website I snatched the photos from.

Man, those bees are fucked up.

Sex Wednesday Rap Up

It seems you all only read my posts the most on Wednesdays because of their sexual content. I wonder if you’d all be as interested if I made a Sexus Blog and posted nothing but sexual content 24/7. Truth is, I already have a Sexus Blog, I just haven’t bothered to use it. So for those of you who come here solely for the sex Wednesday post, would you want actually visit a Sexus Blog that contained nothing but porn and porn reviews, sex tips, personal sex stories and/or sex stories that I picked up along the way, possible interviews or reviews of online hotties? Because it’s not completely impossible for that blog to exist.

I suppose, because the catergories I’ve set up are misleading, I’ll post a link to something your horn dogs want to see.

NSFW link.

Birthday

As you all know, yesterday was my 25th birthday and I think I accomplished it rather well. Considering my brother (the middle child) didn’t call me, put me off a bit. No matter our feud with each other, we never failed to act like family when it comes to these “special” days. I love my family, and I don’t think I say that enough. I’m hoping to arrange something on Saturday so I can tell my entire family my plans for my future. I also want to discuss another thing I’ve been bottling up inside. I hope to tell my niece as well. If anyone needs to know about the difficult life on the path I’ve chose for myself, it should be her of all people.

Mother took me out for lunch. We ate at this Chinese place and I told her about the Peace Corps. She told me she wanted to do it as a kid. I saw that flame in her eye I once saw when I was a child. It was the same flame she had when she tried to go out for GED but succumbed to defeat. I’ve always wanted to be there for my mother in the way she was there for hers. I don’t think I’m strong enough though. A lot of my friends have seen my relationship with my mother is a lot stronger than they ever had with theirs. My mother’s been like a best friend to me in my youth. She still is in many ways. I know she wants me to grow up and let me go because all good mothers want that. But I can’t help but to feel that she can’t stand to face the fact that if I’m gone, that would leave not only the void of her son, but her friend as well.

I always had this plan that if I left for something like this, then Jyg would be around to pick up my slack. Now that it’s over between us, I don’t expect her to ever do that for me. Those who know me well should know I’m crying at this moment as I write. For those who don’t, I’ve learned to let go of my social stigma and allow myself the emotions most men bury inside themselves, or numb with alcohol. But now I wonder what’s going to happen when I’m gone? Sure she has the Kid and my nieces and nephews, my brothers, my grandmother, my aunt, etc. But who’ll be here when I’m gone? Who’ll make sure she keeps her appointments? I know I’m putting myself way ahead of what’s happening. I may not even be able to join. But that’s the problem I face with all my paths.

Forget that for a moment. Too depressing.

I got presents, one, actually, and the half of another. I bought myself the selected stories of O. Henry because I wanted to read “The Gift of the Magi” since I heard about it on The L Word. My mother, and Philosopher found this quite humorous, The Best of Best American Erotica 2008, the final book of its series.

Because I feel indebted to Susie Bright for introducing me to this wonderful world of (sexual) freedom - and possibly a world where a 58 year old (Catholic) mother can buy her 25 year old (Agnostic) son a book of “smut” with good conscience, knowing that she raised him both as a woman’s civil rights activist and an out spoke liberal humanitarian, though he’s too lazy to actually go out there and riot, but does support them in every medium possible through his writing and his art (ahem, meaning writing) - I shall read her story, “Story of O Birthday Party” first. Miss Bright, if you’re reading this, thank you.

Now now, let’s not give her all the fanfare. There were several people who helped make it possible for her to accomplish along the way, and there were many others who did the same. American Erotica is no longer the smut that we so righteously condemned it to be, but an artistic expression that gives us a certain freedom of who we will fall in love with. That is why I hold Erotica at its most highest peak.

But yeah, you’re all still a little freaked about my mother buying me the book for my birthday and all that I just wrote was nonsense. It’s not Oedipal so get your fucking minds out of the smut (ahem, Freudian) gutter.

And for those of you who wished me a happy birthday (ahem, Philosopher) thank you so much.

More on the Sex Writing, fish baking, Wonder Boys, and a list of books

I think what got me into sex writing and the love of erotica, not just my early escapade with pornography, but also  Susie Bright. While I find most of her essays trite and boring, the books she compiles are awesome. The first book I ever read where she was the editor was, of course, one in The Best American Erotica series. It was the 2002 edition and I quickly fell in love with stories by Maggie Estep, Simon Sheppard, Stacey Richter, Gary Rosen, and Tsaurah Litzky.

I think what caught my attention with Maggie Estep’s story was this paragraph:

“Joe wondered why it was that tumors were always compared to fruit. He wondered if the nurse liked to have sex with fruit. Susan did.”

The beginning of the story had already hinted to the more than odd sexual preferences of Susan. But it was that line that, for some odd reason, that caught the attention of my 19-year-old mind.

The fact that “In Deep” was the first gay erotic short story I ever read that left me feeling all giddy inside helped Simon Sheppard. This book was the pathway I needed, like the porn when I was a kid, to a more mature level of sexuality.

Stacey Ritcher’s “When to Use” brought back the memories of sex. It’s short and reads like an instructional guide for the obvious womanly hygienic product.

It even inspired my at-the-time girlfriend to read. In the lines of something like, “If more books were written like this, about sex, I would read more often,” she confessed to me and a few of her male teachers who constantly asked her to read the texts. The girl wasn’t a moron, she was brilliant, though she did some silly things once in a while, but who can blame her? We all do them.

Anyway, I got off subject there. The difference between pornographic writing such as most of the stories found in the collection entitled Aroused and those found in The Best American Writing - though I can’t really say that for all the stories is that BAE stories have a more poetic charm to them and Aroused has more of a fuck me hard and fuck long sorta tone.

I don’t know, sex is sex and some of it’s great and some of it bad. The writings reflect that. I just love sex, what can I say?

Anyway, earlier, all that sex writing started to get me hungry. I started preparing fish earlier to bake, but I was tired of the same ol’ same ol’ fish. So I decided to use an old recipe I had for chicken, changed it around for fish and made that. It was a garlic fish marinate that I prepared. I was supposed to leave it for longer but “hunger gets what hunger wants,” right? I toasted two slices of bread threw them in the food processor with just enough black and cayenne pepper and enough seasoning to give the breading flavor. After that, I added just enough corn flakes to fill up the bowl (I have a small processor) and broke that up and dumped it in the bowl with the bread crumbs. I mixed it all up and then took out the fish and rolled it around, placed on it on the cookie sheet, covered that with foil because I was doing this in a toaster oven and not the actual oven, and baked for 30 mins at 350. I liked it and so did Jyg who got the last slice not too long ago for her lunch.

And now that I made that transition, the more I read Wonder Boys the more I realize that I’m more and more in Grady Tripp’s situation, minus the dead dog, the creative writing student, the being sorta Jewish and the pregnant mistress. Okay, I’m nothing like Grady Tripp, but what I meant is that one day he just woke up and his wife was gone. I guess that’s the reason why Michael Chabon’s stories capture my attention - they’re so three dimensional that you find yourself relating with them through out their adventures.

So I was reading the book today and I came across when Grady returns to his in-laws’ home for the Seder:

“I walked out to the driveway and started down toward Kinship Road, looking up at the mesh of branches overhead for signs of a blighted elm tree against which it would be kosher for me to piss. The air smelled cool and slippery like we bark, and although my wife’s refusal to let me share her nakedness, however reasonable, had hurt me - even though it mad my heart ache to think that I might never get to see my Emily naked again - I was feeling very glad to be out of the house, alone, carrying the happy clenched fist of my bladder inside me.”

It struck a cord with me. I almost wanted to cry, even though it was stupid to, because I feel that I will never hold Jyg or touch her in the way lovers do. With every fiber of my being, I’m attached to her. I don’t know if it’s because it has been five years, but it feels like something else. Of all the people in the world, I though I’d be the last to want to get married, and in many ways, I am. However, with Jyg, that’s all I wanted to do for a very long time. And I blew it by not going with my instinct. I only looked at rings. I only talked about plans. I never took action and I really just want things back.

Damnit.

Anyway, I’ll leave you with a list of books I’ve read and enjoyed by authors I’ve met in person. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

• Flight and Other Stories by Jose Skinner
• The Magic of Blood by Dagoberto Gilb
• I Ask the Impossible by Ana Castillo
• El Paso del Norte by Richard Yanez

I actually got to speak to the first two and that last one. I only briefly met with Ana Castillo at a book signing, speaking to her as quickly as possible. However, I was a little disappointment that she didn’t know how to spell my name. Sadly.

Insomnia

Sleep has discarded me like an old lover, leaving me without a bed to rest my tired body upon. I suppose it’s all for the best. My brain is slowing down and I should be asleep soon, but it’s hitting 8:00am and I’m due to wake up 30 minutes later.

I suffered, suffer, am suffering, from insomnia for quite some time now. Ever since 2001 and I know it’s cliche, but shortly after 9/11. I don’t know what happened, but I think it had a lot to do with the relationship I was in at the time. The emotional drainage she was put my brain in a mess that I haven’t yet recovered from. I know that sounded corny and stupid, but I have no other history of sleeplessness until her.

Anyway, insomnia leads me to the internet surfing, and unlike most men my age, I don’t go looking for porn, or porn related things. Instead, I go looking for the literature aspects of the internet, finding old and public domain books to read. However, this night was different. This night I came across this: Safe For Work Porn. Now forgive me if I’m a little late on this. My pulse is nowhere near the wrist of the blogging world, but SFW Porn is probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while. If you haven’t seen it, then I urge you to look it up.

I’d like to continue writing this for you, and telling you everything I found that was hilarious, but I think an old lover is calling me to my bed. I doubt she’ll be gentle. The day has just begun.

On Sex (A blog for Hump Day)

There was a strange moment in my life when I realized I like sex more than I should. Now, now, don’t get ahead of me, I meant sex in the media. And when I say that, I don’t mean nudity on the big screen, or the small screen, but sex in general. The taboo. The whispered words from adults.

Sex is always better. So why is it so profane, so vulgar, sinful, dirty? Many reasons comes from the mindset of a Christian America who wish to eradicate it from our society. The married couple must only have sex to procreate, otherwise it’s a sad sin. Don’t use condoms. Don’t take the pill. Don’t pull out. No masturbation, no anal, no oral, no hand jobs. Monogamous. Waiting til marriage. No extramarital. Nothing outside of wedlock.

But when the lights are out, good lord becomes “OH GOD!”

There’s only one problem I’ve encountered with sex: I’m not good at it. Sex writing, of course. The other thing is up to the opinion of others, but erotica is not my gift. Oh, how I dream of describing the cascading landscapes that are women’s bodies. These precious gems that are nipples, erected on a blanket of silky skin. The prickly pubic hairs, curling upwards, opening the slick of wetness beneath. If Erato would only kiss my mind and bless with me with the elaborate, non pornographic, scenes of two lovers which the reader’s breath will be taken like the first time she had sex. Or describe an awkward scene where two inexperienced hands tug on the straps of a red bra, the lacy matching panties rolling down smooth skin and the uncertainty of not knowing whether to spank her or not–perhaps this brings to memory the first time a man got laid.

I’ve done some poorly written porn in the past. I say porn because I thought erotica was the more intelligent word for pornography, rather than a more artistically piece work. My teenage mind was tainted by girl on girl action, women who loved spunk on their face, anal, getting rammed, dp, etc. Let’s face it, porn killed my imagination. (Let’s not get confused here–I was never under the impression that real women like this sort of thing; I only thought that in order to write good erotica, you must imitate porn movies. I was very aware that the women in the videos were just paid actresses who only allowed such acts of humiliation–which I only consider them such acts outside of porn–because, fuck, that’s an obvious.)

So I did what any writer would do. I read more on the subject. I read about sex as if it were religion. And in a sense, it did become religion. I studied books on the subject on my free time, writing an essay on it whenever I got the chance. I realized the my love for erotic arts and lifestyles was a better subject to write than the sex scene itself.

But lo how I wish I could just get the sex down right for a short story/poem. I suppose, as most people say, practice makes best. I seriously doubt it in this case.