starring

Brock Masters -- previously seen by me in the excellent Wild Rangers
Sean Storm -- who happens to have access to a guesthouse with a great pool for sunning & wetting his smooth bottom ass

introducing

Brent Everett -- skinny, muscular, long thick cock, pouty lips
Yanko -- smooth muscular skinhead with thick eyebrows
Chase Dryburgh -- freckly redhead with a farmer tan, though skinnier than me ;-)
Tristan King -- kind of scary looking top ... in a too faggy bar-whipped kind of way
Troy Kroft -- mmm, looks like he hangs out at the Eagle, but almost cute, top
JD Thunder -- really young looking, not a gym queen, tall w/ dark hair
Sage -- older uniformed fella with hot body, hot ass, except he's a top

also with

Sean Paris -- versatile jughead
Matt Sizemore -- in charge of the brig
Billie Di'angilo -- trashy random olive-skinned fella

-----

Shore leave is about to begin :-)

We watch them all leaving the ship in their sexy uniforms, calling people on their cell phones, lining up their places to stay.

3:30 Except for Brent, who is to be stuck in the brig for stealing alcohol from the ship's stock, pleading that he'll do anything to avoid being sent to the brig ... as officer Brock Masters asks him to put his pouty lips around his cock.

The music could be worse ... it sounds like something you'd listen to with a children's fairy tale, though.

Brent can take a lot of cock down his saliva-lubricated throat. After a while, Brent starts stroking his own hard cock ... I wonder if he's gonna get into extra trouble for that ... then Brock unbuttons his uniform to show us his washboard abs ... now Brent is forced to strip, showing a very young-looking, very lean body with a tiny smooth ass ...

11:15 The fucking begins :-) Brent's back rests on a military gray desk, his black-booted feet lifted far into the air by Brock as we watch him fuck a boy who probably weighs half as much. Brent begs for more :-) It's a HOT scene, I like it, I'd take either of their places :o)

Heh, Brent gets thrown in the brig anyway, despite his efforts, simply because Brock desires to keep him.

20:40 We switch to Sean, checking into his guest house, and getting some rays in his skimpy hardened bathing suit ... before stripping and jumping into the pool, giving us all the angles of his soft-pliable ass. In the sauna he declines persistent offers from a hot man ... then he showers, as his cock gets hard, his butt gets wet and hungry, he leans into the shower, he strokes himself, he fingers his ass ... he's gonna cum in the shower, yes!

23:28 We switch back to Brent, about to undergo Brig Induction at the hands of Matt Sizemore. Induction involves being naked in front of an American flag, bending over, legs forcibly spread, and having your asshole inspected for contraband. He's thrown into a cage, naked, on a mattress, chained in, and left there with a scared face and a beating heart.

26:06 Sean, meanwhile, has called a massage therapist over for some poolside relaxation. Sean has a great voice, is very polite, your mother would ... um ... love him ... as much as you would ...

Tristan is the therapist, he's not attractive to me ... he goes inside to fix them some lemonade, and he spikes Sean's drink with what looks like GHB ;-) I've never been high on that stuff. But it will be making Sean horny and receptive ...

I've had massage training ... I'd love to give Sean a full-body working over with my lubricated hands ... his back is smooth and sexy, his butt is tremendously cute ... just the kind of ass I like to fuck. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off his ass either. Y'all know where this is going ...eventually the ass gets fingered, the cock gets stroked, then sucked ... turns 69, first mutual cock sucking, then mutual rimming ... and the bottom gets fucked inside and out :-) Is Sean gonna flip? Nope, he cums on Tristan's butt from on high :-) But then Sean passes out, and Tristan goes to town on his passed-out-face&chest, and steals all of Sean's clothes and money.

49:15 Chase and Sean enter a gay bar :-) and talk with JD, as though there were a plot hiding in here somewhere. They all three make out in the back, they do it three-ways every way, over a barrel, onlookers jerk off, everybody is in leather, very HOT.

66:13 Sean wakes up ... he's alone, his clothes and uniform are gone ... he's naked, cum-covered, and just locked himself out of the house.

67:12 Back to the redhead and the others in the bar, who just got arrested for being in a gay bar, and are now being Inducted into the Brig by Matt, while naked Brent watches from behind the chain-link, getting hard, stroking his longo cock. But once the others are brought in, they are all forced to have sex.

70:00 Now we're in the video store with Billie, who is pounding his meat while watching XXX on the monitor, then we fall into the monitor and see the scene directly. This is NOT for me, I'm skipping it.

76:00 Yanko is talking to Billie about which videos to rent. I so don't want to watch them do anything together. This video is not 100% throughput, I need to skip ahead!

80:43 A robbery in the video store! Troy is a bad guy. He's got both Yanko and Billie. Robbery becomes subordinated to the need to tie up Billie and get head from Yanko. Troy has hot pierced nipples. I'm not really into these guys, though, I'm skipping.

91:37 Back to the forced-sex action inside the Brig :-)

That's it for today. I'm gonna lie back and watch now. And shoot my load.

-----

As part of my Buddhist path I've become less attached to my opinions, and even less attached to having opinions at all.

By this I mean -- I don't feel the need to have opinions on every matter that the media, my immediate surroundings, or my friends put before me.

I'm also less attached to the desire to convince other people that my own opinion is correct, and less attached to the desire that other people "tolerate" or "accept" the way I choose to live my own life.

-----

Some people have opinions that we categorize as "religious" or "spiritual". These opinions usually cover topics like life-after-death, heaven & hell, God & Satan, reincarnation, the nature of good and evil, and various moral commandments. Under the modern system, in which we at least pretend that church, state, and science are all separate modalities, most religious opinions are precisely those opinions which can neither be proven nor disproven by any widely agreed-upon set of evidentiary rules.

Because religious opinions are most resistant to proof, they usually resemble a utopia that the opinion-holder thinks would exist, if only everybody else were to believe the same things she does. And, in the case of heaven, that utopia will exist when all the believers arrive there together, after all the non-believers are banished.

Political opinions can also derive from utopian desires.

If only everybody would follow this set of rules, not that set of rules, then we'd have plenty of good in the world, and a minimum of bad. That's the idea. Unfortunately, reality is always more complex and messier than any one person's (or organization's) utopian vision.

-----

Some religious and political opinions do derive from observation and reason. For example, if teenage pregnancy rates are rising (which most people consider a bad thing), then a reasonable observer might address the problem by teaching teens to stop having sex. Once they are no longer teens, then they can safely have sex, because then they won't be contributing to the teenage pregnancy rate.

So, an opinion is born. The way to address Problem X is to stop people from doing Behavior Y.

But ... why do people do Behavior Y? In the case of teenage sex, they do it because it feels good. Most people spend their lives trying to maximize their pleasure while minimizing their pain. They might be mistaken about how to do that, but that is still their aim. To the extent that one person's pleasure causes another person's pain ... you'll have a clash of opinions, and you'll have difficulty finding a utopian solution.

-----

Well, not every opinion is deserving of the label "utopian" ... some opinions are completely garden-variety, about things like how often to mow the lawn, how often to vacuum the floor, how often to call one's mother, etc.

But some people confuse their opinions on these matters with The Way Things Ought To Be. As though there were a right way and a wrong way, instead of a your way and a my way.

I've been living alone for over five years, since August 1998 (when I started keeping an online diary).

If I really hated living alone, I would've found a roomie by now. I've had offers from people I know well. I could've searched for a roomie. But, no, I continue living alone, even as a single man -- single for 18 months! Has it really been that long? Hmmm.

I claim to be "open" to the idea of living with somebody else ... I claim that living with somebody is part of my long-term goals ... but I'd be picky about whom and where ... which is why it hasn't yet happened.

Living alone I always have a retreat from the rest of the world. Living alone I am in charge of the apartment. I can keep it as clean or as dirty as I want, I can keep the thermostat exactly where I want, I don't have to discuss or compromise any decision about purchases, decorations, cooking, having people over, noise or quiet, intoxication, masturbation, what to watch or hear ...

-----

Occasionally I feel lonely living alone, but I can remedy that pretty quickly by calling friends or family on the telephone, or logging into AIM, or communicating with people via LiveJournal, or simply leaving the apartment for a more crowded space. I have no shortage of social opportunities, there are plenty of places to go in this city ... usually if I'm spending time at home alone it is because I choose to do so, or because I'm worn out, or because I want to do some chores.

-----

The US Census has found an increase in the number of people living alone. One reason for this increase is affluence. More people are economically independent and can afford to and choose to live alone.

However, there's definitely still a cultural bias against living alone ... most people view it as a short term stage of young adulthood, or as the ending stage of senior citizenship. The cultural ideal is still to form a couple, to live together, and to have children if you are able.

(I wrote this essay on 12/13/02)

I claim to be a Buddhist, but I've never attended a Buddhist worship service, and I'm certainly not an expert in the various terms and schools. I graze.

So ... what does it mean to me to be a Buddhist?

Right now, the most important part of being a Buddhist is acceptance of myself exactly as I am, seeing myself exactly as I am, allowing myself to be exactly as I am, and loving myself exactly as I am. I am complete, as-is. I need no additional friends, lovers, possessions, traits, goals, skills, or activities. There are no characteristics I desire to change or improve. Buddhism is the WYSIWYG religion.

But, a lot of people think Buddhism is about meditation, they visualize a bunch of people with shaved heads sitting cross-legged on little mats for hours at a time ;-) Such a boring image!

-----

I meditate, I've been meditating for years now, though the amount of time I spend meditating has been increasing over the past year. Meditation has almost completely replaced my at-home reading time, so I don't subscribe to newspapers and I only get a few magazines (and I'm not even keeping up with the few I get!).

I also meditate while commuting, and while traveling, and while eating -- I don't often read while eating anymore, whereas I used to read the newspaper at lunch every day. I meditate at work too.

-----

I do 3 basic kinds of meditation. I don't know the fancy names for them, I don't know if there are more kinds of meditation than these. For me Buddhism is a personal exploration, and I'm not interested in conquering the entire field of knowledge (this isn't law school!) ... this is about my own spiritual journey through the chaos. Buddhism has a huge amount of crud attached to the hull -- more crud than hull, in my own humble opinion -- I try to focus on my own little boat as it takes me where I need to go.

Breathing Meditation -- this is the simplest kind of meditation, the kind I do most often while at home or on the Metro train. The idea is to focus on my breath, often counting with each breath to 10 or 20 and then starting over. My thoughts are allowed to drift if they must, but I try to focus on the breath. The idea is to center myself in my body and its autonomic survival processes, to feel self-sufficient as-is, to understand my place in the world as a single breathing body-in-the-now.

Breathing meditation is what most of those pillow-sitting Buddhists are doing for hours at a time ;-) Some Buddhists think it is important to sit in a particular posture while doing this. I don't give a fuck about posture. I do it sitting in my rocking chair, or flopped on my futon mattress, or standing on a moving Metro train. Some Buddhists think it is bad to do breathing meditation while lying down, because you might fall asleep, and some of them drink a caffeinated tea before meditation to remain alert. I think falling asleep is a good thing! If, after a few minutes of meditation at home, I discover that I'm sleepy, then I go to sleep, regardless of the hour.

Awareness Meditation -- there is a fuzzy boundary between breathing meditation and awareness meditation, perhaps breathing meditation is a subset of awareness meditation. I most often engage in awareness meditation while walking, but it can be useful at any time and place. Awareness meditation involves bathing myself in the ever-changing sensations of now, from all of my senses, in all directions. It helps me to recall that most of the thoughts in my head have absolutely nothing to do with present sensations. It helps me to enjoy my surroundings, and to value my body and environment as they are. When I'm engaged in awareness meditation I do not invoke negative judgments, I do not scan the environment for imperfections. Even if a sensation is initially unpleasant, I embrace that sensation as a valid and important part of my life experience. Awareness meditation is about acceptance, loving the world as it is, even those parts of the world we wish we could "fix" or change. Becoming aware, without judging or desiring anything else.

Generally, through awareness meditation I discover that I love so much about the world as it is! The view from my apartment, the sensation of kissing a valued inanimate possession, floral scents, wind, temperature, precipitation, other people, plants, and animals ... clouds, architecture, the changing arcs of the sun, the phases of the moon, sounds and vibrations ... massaging my own body, tasting food, marveling at the sensitivity of my fingertips ...

Insight Meditation -- perhaps both breathing meditation and awareness meditation are truncated subsets of insight meditation. Insight meditation happens accidentally, usually while I'm practicing awareness. I'll be aware not only of my external surroundings, but also my internal thoughts, and I'll suddenly realize that my self-talk isn't making any sense. I'll realize that something about the world, myself, or my place in the world, something I used to believe is not actually true. Sometimes these realizations hurt mightily, other times they launch spontaneous euphoria ... but either way the insights leave me a changed man.

-----

All of these forms of meditation serve the same goal, which is to focus on the world-as-it-is rather than the world-we-wish-it-were or the world-that-we-thought-it-was or the world-that-will-be-later.

Rather than seeing the glass as half-empty or half-full (both of which are judgments) ... meditation is about seeing the glass, the contents of the glass, the table upon which the glass rests, the transparent air between us and the glass, the walls surrounding us and the glass, the ceiling sheltering us and the glass, the light reflecting upon all of these surroundings, the sounds, smells, vibrations, stillness, drafts, temperatures, emotions, fleeting thoughts ... we see everything, we realize we can't see everything at once, we realize that things are changing while we watch them (and while we don't) ... that the universe is a fascinating place to watch as-is.

(I wrote this essay on 12/03/02)

There is an Internet version of "me" and there is a 3-D verson of "me". The Internet version of me is highly selective and controlled. The 3-D version is (usually) totally unrehearsed WYSIWYG. Most people who have met me in 3-D after knowing only my Internet version have said things like, "you look even better than your pictures," or "I thought you were taller," or "you are quieter than I expected."

In general, people make the transition pretty well, and like me even more after meeting me in 3-D.

-----

I suppose I take some measure of pride in my self-pics, nearly all of which I've shot myself, using my first-and-only digicam with its 10-second timer. Back when I'd cruise the AOL chat rooms or gay.com, I'd do pretty well at luring people over to my abode using my pics. Not everybody thinks I'm his type, but I get enough bites to feel good about how I look and how my pictures portray me.

However, when I've talked with people about my self-pics, and my pride in them, and even my occasional pride in my 3-D body ... when I've said things like, "Someday I want to see my pics in print, or on those TV monitors at the gay bars," ... many of my companions have felt the need to point out to me that I have a "layer of fat" or that I don't have a "gym body" or that I look good for somebody who isn't a "porn star."

Hmmm.

Supposedly, part of my charm is that I look good "even though" ... because I'm a "real guy" ...

Hmmm.

Well ... the last time I got on a scale it showed I'm a healthy weight, in proportion to my height. I actually do work out my muscles at the gym a couple times per week, and I also run long distances a few times per week, and when weather permits I ride my bike for even longer distances a couple times per week. I eat a healthy variety of yummy foods when I'm hungry, and I avoid eating when I'm not hungry. I don't overeat.

I take care of my body, mind, and soul, and it shows. So ... when people feel the need to say that I have a layer of fat, that I don't have a gym body, that I don't look like a porn star ... I feel like something is wrong with our cultural standards of body image. For me to get rid of my layer of fat would be unhealthy for me, I'd have to be anorexic, I'd have to starve myself. I exercise plenty, so to have a "gym body" would require that I take steroids and spend 2 hours per day on the weight bench. I have all the working parts necessary to have fantastic sex ... though my parts are of median size and shape ...

So ... I must conclude that my American culture does not value actual health, daily exercise, and normal-sized working parts.

Instead, my culture values the unattainable. People who know me in real life compare me to the unattainable, and let me know, politely or no, that I don't measure up.

That's OK. I'm happy with myself, more than ever :-) I like me. I like the way I look. I like hanging out with myself, and with other people. I enjoy exercising with myself, and with other people. And I enjoy sexual pleasure -- with myself and with other people. If you know me via the Internet, you can watch me from afar. If you know me in 3-D, you can join me.

Your words can no longer hurt me.

(I wrote this essay on 12/26/02)

As typically deployed, romance is something we add to reality. Romance is a powerful emotional connection communicated by symbolic words and gestures of eternal and selfless love. Romance is an attempt to destroy existential angst and low self-esteem with an omnipotent emotional bond between two (or more) lovers.

I've always had a soft spot for romance. Unfortunately for me, some of the most painful of my short-lived relationships began when an attractive guy told me he loved me before either of us knew each other well. I am now wary of the word "love" ... I doubt I will ever accept it so credulously again. I no longer have a good grasp on what that word really means.

-----

I haven't given up on romance. Not at all. I've redefined it.

For me, romance is no longer eternal. I will not profess to "always" love you. Always doesn't exist, the future is unpredictable, people change and their needs change too. We can't know whether we have a long-term relationship until we've been together for a long time, and endurance is not a perfect predictor of additional future success.

For me, romance is no longer selfless. I will not pledge my love "no matter what". There are definitely behaviors and circumstances that will lead me to end or downgrade a relationship. The relationship is not more important than the people inside of it.

So ... what is romance to me? Romance is the special gift of spending time together, focused on each other. Romance is the special gift of making decisions together, as a team, in ways more powerful than one person can do on his own. Romance is the special gift of making small, unexpected sacrifices that do enormous good for another. Romance is about making shared reality a better place right now, right here, every day, together.

There is an aspect to political activism that involves an incredible sense of urgency, people thinking, "I absolutely know what is right," ... spirituality advocates that people step back, reflect, and approach the world with a sense of mystery -- that maybe they don't know exactly what is right. This is a good quality to bring into activism, to look at some of the deeper issues that way.

(I wrote this comment on 12/18/02)

The cloud cover this morning was a deep, crenulated gray, as though it could absorb anything without remorse, it looked thick and daring ... I was soon to discover this was an illusion ...

(I wrote this comment on 12/13/02)

As long as we are "reinventing" and "privatizing" government, with the IRS calling taxpayers "customers" and public schools allowing "choice" ... I think President Bush should promote a new Cellblock Choice plan for our 2,000,000+ and growing prison population, Leave No Criminals Behind!

Upon sentencing, inmates would receive a variety of brochures from competing incarceration service providers. Inmates with extra non-laundered cash could choose high-end incarceration by paying a monthly fee. Each year, in December, inmates would be offered an "open season" during which they could switch prisons with no questions asked.

1 cup of granulated sugar
1 egg
1 tbl Baking Soda
1 cup pumpkin (canned)
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup butter
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1 cup raisins (optional)

My father had already purchased a burial plot, when my mother died in 1994. So, exclusive of the burial plot, here are the expenses my Step-Mom authorized:

1,475 -- Basic Services of Funeral Director and Staff
375 -- Facilities and Staff for Funeral Ceremony
195 -- Funeral Home Owned Equipment and Staff for Graveside Service
355 -- Embalming of Normal Remains
75 -- Hairdresser
165 -- Transfer of Remains to Funeral Establishment
160 -- Hearse(s)
160 -- Utility Vehicle(s)
1,995 -- Clarksburg Lincoln Poplar Casket w/ Beige Interior
20 -- Guest Register Book(s)
91 -- Virginia State Sales Tax
100 -- Ten Certified Copies of Death Certificates

(I wrote this essay on 12/6/02)

I think lots of gay men are anorexic. For some reason we've set up these insane standards of beauty that require us to have either zero body fat, or huge supplement-enhanced muscles, or both. Gay men knock themselves out on the aerobic machines daily and turn down even the occasional slice of birthday cake in an effort to keep their abdominal muscles visible at all times.

I've been graced with genetically large chest & shoulder muscles, so I've not been one to complain about a lack of muscles, but I've definitely tortured myself over the existence of body fat under my skin.

There was a time, a few years ago, when I weighed about 15 pounds less than I do now. When I look at pictures of my body from that time, I see a nearly fatless belly (and I wasn't sucking it in!), and I wish I still looked like that. However, at the time, my brother called me "anorexic", and my best friend told me I needed to put on weight. I was sick nearly constantly, hungry nearly constantly, wasn't dating anybody, and I definitely wasn't happy.

Eventually, my anorexic habits snapped, and I put on about 10 pounds in a month. Shortly after that I found a boyfriend. When I showed him the pictures I took during my anorexic period, he claimed that I looked better with the extra pounds. And, since regaining my normal weight, I've certainly never had trouble picking up guys or getting dates or finding boyfriends.

Still, when I see pictures from that fatless time period, I think I looked better then. This is a classic symptom of anorexia.

As a recovering anorexic, I make myself eat when I'm hungry. I indulge in birthday cakes when offered. I repeatedly tell myself that I look fine as I am. I threw out my scale. If I'm tired, I skip the run or the trip to the gym. I love myself as-is. I exhibit my body as-is.

Makes 12 muffins:

2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 1/2 cups pumpkin -- from a can ;-)
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup raisins -- that were soaked in orange juice for 10 minutes
vegetable-oil spray, for muffin pan

"The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences."

-- Seng-ts'an

Sometimes it is difficult to drop out of my head, relaxing into my body, traveling without language, observing without preferences. Other times it is easy, but not always.

Despite years of meditation practice I still feel angry when I encounter bigotry. I still feel tense when I have lots of work to do. I still feel insecure when I haven't heard from a beloved friend for a while.

-----

My father died over a year ago. As the anniversary of that event approached, I felt profoundly depressed, and sad, and anxious. I struggled to make sense of life and death. I struggled to understand what death felt like, and whether there could possibly be a personal existence after death, and whether that post-death existence would be unpleasant.

I felt my body aging. I imagined getting older, my body breaking down, perhaps even my brain breaking down. I imagined the possibility that I might end up in a nursing home. I imagined that I might follow a path much like my father's -- five years of progressively serious illnesses until he finally entered a coma and died.

I experienced all the feelings of these imagined states as though they were real and present. I aged decades in my mind.

After the anniversary passed, my mood lifted. Along the way I learned to heal myself with laughter, and I also learned to let go of my need to figure out certain answers. There are certain boundary conditions for this human life, and I need not understand what lies beyond.

-----

Beginner's mind is Zen practice in action. It is the mind that is innocent of preconceptions and expectations, judgements and prejudices. Beginner's mind is just present to explore and observe and see "things as-it-is." I think of beginner's mind as the mind that faces life like a small child, full of curiosity and wonder and amazement. "I wonder what this is? I wonder what that is? I wonder what this means?" Without approaching things with a fixed point of view or a prior judgement, just asking "what is it?" ^{Beginner's Mind}

-- Abbess Zenkei Blanche Hartman

-----

When the grieving process hit me hardest, during April 2003, I felt lost. Utterly lost. I literally believed I had entered Hell. I felt tremendous despair. I felt like all my friends and family, everything I loved, would be taken away from me one by one, and that I would spend eternity alone. I felt like God was judging me for all of my sins. I felt like Satan was punishing me -- I felt like my body was on fire.

All of these thoughts and feelings were interpretations. Wild interpretations. Memetic overload.

I wasn't able to emerge from them until I learned two important things:

(1) No matter what, I can laugh
(2) No matter what, there is always something new to learn

I don't have to take my interpretations of reality so seriously. Whatever it is that I think I know, my picture is incomplete.

-----

The awful visions I'd conjured were the direct result of my desperate desire to control the outcomes of my life and the lives of those I care about. I wanted all of us to live forever, happily ever after.