YOU GOTTA HAVE FRIENDS Part 1

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PROUD OF WHAT, EXACTLY?

So... uh, I didn't attend any pride events this year. (San Diego may still happen - when IS that, anyway?) The funny thing about it is I don't feel like any less of a queer / gay / homo / whatever man. I don't have a decreased sense of community (that already happened), and I don't really feel like I missed much.

Well, except for good tunes, good friends and good times. This photo was taken at Christopher Street West, a.k.a. West Hollywood Pride.

Sigh...

SSS-SMOKIN'

So super-fucking-cool, that's you! No, really... with your one-of-a-kind, Japanese street couture outfits; the hair styles no one else could get away with (or ever try), using the n-word like you were born one; calling both coasts (and several states) your home; the parade of disposable, but achingly glamorous guys you ‘dorked’-right down to the southern drawl that thickens with liquor. (And just how does that little body manage to hold it’s Penis Colossus and pitchers of Mai Tai so well?)

In all honesty, my life lacks a certain spark now. Can’t say, for sure, if you brought that electricity to my life, or if you just coaxed that side of me out from the dark, deserted corners of normalcy. But I do know I wasn’t the only one dancing in that spotlight, drinking in the summer sun and setting the dance floor on fire.

I have a couple of rolls of film, from that party we threw (with Sam) that I don’t show to anyone-mostly because it takes too long to explain, and by the time the whole ‘New Year’s Eve’ in the middle of July thing makes sense to them, I’m questioning my sanity. Was I crazy back then? Or am I crazy now, for letting the fun slip out of my life?

I don’t need you around to have a good time. I’m plenty good at being a wild-child, all by myself. But it always helps, when you’re making mischief (or just takin’ care of business), to have somebody by your side, screaming in your ear. . .

YOU BETTAH WORK!

ANOTHER MIND-BLOWING MANHUNT MASTERPIECE

(The number of quality profile poems now outweighs the number quality men.)

I'm a man, dammit!
I'm no liar, or prick.
No blue collar bf stealing dick.
No not a prisoner or master,
nor a babysitting tragic addict/disaster.
I’m only a man, fortunate & flawed.
I pray there is a God,
while refusing to believe that there be
1 thing my God owes ‘me’.
U won’t be a partner & doubt I am a friend.
It may just be pig sex u want, & The End.
That’s OK, that’s just fine,
see I know just where we are.
Not the outfield, gym showers or some cruisy new gay bar,
“A marriage equivalent,” or worse, your last LTR.
GEEZ, IT'S A SEXSITE! SHOW AN X PIC! SHARE SOME REGARD!
Give a way 4 us 2 meet,
GET ME THERE. . . GET ME HARD!

IF IT ISN"T ONE THING...

I'm not going to get all preachy about how intrusive the Republican-dominated government is, or how hypocritical it is for them to say they want smaller government and less government involvement and regulation of private industry and life, while limiting and/or restricting our freedoms.

No, I’m not going to mention any of that. Let’s just say this: THEY ARE AFTER OUR PORN. With AIDS running rampant, hate crimes on the rise and they’re concerned with the porn we watch, and how it’s made?

Whatever.

GETCHO' BACKS OFF THE WALL...

FILE UNDER: It Ain't Ol' Skool If U Still Livin' It
Missy 'Misdameanor' Elliott gone dun it again--another slammin' track, with a guest vocal from Ciara (my goodies, indeed). The lyrics and song structure aren't anything special (not like my favorite nugget from her last album, "Yeah, I shakes my gut, shakes my gut, like, 'yeah, b!tch, what? I likes it rough; tough, ask yo man how I'm good in handcuffs!"), but the track isn't looking to break new ground, just shake it up a little.
RATING: 4 out of 5

AND NOW, FOR ANOTHER MANHUNT POEM...

"HOW TO HAVE BETTER SEX BY LAUGHING MORE"
LIFTED (ONCE AGAIN) FROM A PROFILE ON MANHUNT

I can come just once, I can come in droves,
I can even come on my very own nose.

I can come as an action or make it a noun,
I can come while standing or upside down.

I can come by my left hand, I can use just my right,
Why, boredom equals coming almost every night!

Alas, my pickiness in boys often leaves me coming alone,
Cuz, you need to be hot, & open in bed, to come in my home.

And, it makes my mind hurt that that seems to be asking a lot,
So, sometimes I will give up the open, but ya still gotta be hot!

With that, I must thank Dr. Seuss for my inspiration before I conclude,
And, please don't be shysty, if you're coming, you'd better come nude!

OH, HAPPY DAY

So, let's just get the teasing out of the way now. I'm turning 30 today. Big whoop. Now look at my funny, awkward (and a little sad) pic and laugh. (It's OK, I did.)

ONE BOY, TWO BOYS

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UH…

My older sister finally checked this site out. Her thoughts?

"There were a lot of words."

sigh

THE FINAL (CONDENSED) INSTALLMENT

Posted by: zippersparks

THE FINAL (CONDENSED) INSTALLMENT
Life's Too Short
The Final Two Installments of My Special Story

OK, so I've been advised NOT publish the final chapters of the saga (read: drama) surrounding my last job for reasons I won't go into. Instead, I'll keep it short, thus removing any (and I mean ANY) legal grey areas, and close with this:

I learned SO much. I loved the work I did, could have done without the personal politics and in the end, all of the work, drama and intrigue didn't amount to much. I was laid off because of restructuring (or so I was told) but what it boils down to is that my passion and stubborn-headed nature left me without an ally when I needed it most.

There's nothing I could ever say or do that would make that company a better place to work, or help them understand my true value/potential... I ran myself into the ground, ended up in the hospital (pneumonia, thanks) and don't have much to show for it.

Or do I?

[The record is NOT over yet.]

KYLIE or RUMMY?

(with apologies to GQ magazine)

It's easy to spot the differences between Pop Princess Kylie Minogue and Evil Overlord Donald Rumsfeld, right? I mean, one sold their soul in the quest for world domination, the other one sold their soul in the quest for world domination. I mean, they're at TOTALLY opposite ends on the spectrum of humanity, right? And no one would ever have trouble determining if a quote came from Kylie or Rummy, would they? Take this quiz and test your knowledge.

Kylie or Rummy? You decide:

1. "Look at me! I'm sweet and lovable."
2. "I'm a great napper. A terrible sleeper, but a great napper."
3. "That's a really good question, and if I could tell you, I would."
4. "You will receive only honest, direct answers from me, and they'll be either I know and I'll answer you, or I don't know, or I know, and I won't answer you."
5. "I've got to have a man. I've got to have a man!"
6. "Once in a while, I'm standing here, doing something, and I think, 'What in the world am I doing here?'"
7. "This kind of backlash didn't really seem to be coming from the people. It was more from the media, because they were bored."
8. "If you are not criticized, you may not be doing much."
9. "That's why they say, 'Have you cracked America?' They say it because it's hard. You have to crack it like a piece of rock."
10. "This is fantastic! I've got a laser pointer... Holy mackerel!"
11. "I haven't done anything terrible or punishable. I'm being attacked for just being myself."
12. "It was the first time my boyfriend had seen me perform."

ANSWERS:
1. Rumsfeld
2. Kylie
3. Kylie
4. Rumsfeld
5. Rumsfeld
6. Rumsfeld
7. Kylie
8. Rumsfeld
9. Kylie
10. Rumsfeld
11. Kylie
12. Kylie

NOW YOU CAN SIT ON IT, TOO!

There... I've gone and done part of the work for you, so go ahead and check out this little ditty from Bea Arthur, OK?

THE CULT OF BEAUTY / BOOTY

"I don't feel like I'm oppressing anybody..."

When I was first offered the job (you know the job, the one in porn), the first thing I did (well, the first thing after I changed my Pampers, which had been ruined when I laughed so hard, I peed) was take my dad out to lunch. We went to the Shakey's Buffet by my old high school, partly because it was closing that week (forced out by "redevelopment" don'tcha know?), but mostly for the Mojo potatoes.

Now, pops and I can talk about anything, and I mean, ANYTHING. Yes, I'm wired like my mom, but that's why checking in with the ol' man makes so much sense: he is a solid yin to her yang, which makes him an ideal devil's advocate in situations like this.

I told him all the details: the pros, the cons, but still playing my cards close to my chest (a total departure from my normal neurosis). I have reservations about taking the job, but I'm hoping that if I don't bring them up, and then HE does, it validates my concerns.

It's fucked up, I know, but this was new for me, in a number of ways. Usually, if I have doubts or second thoughts about something, I'm secure (or maybe just stubborn) enough to bow out, stick to the plan and feel good about it. But this time, oh, this time was different. For once, I was able to fully grasp and digest the amazing new world unfolding before me (mine for the taking, it would seem), and I want it... I mean, I REALLY want it... but, again, I have those nagging doubts-doubts now snowballing into (irrational) fear because my dad... hasn't said a word. This is a VERY unusual development. My dad always speaks his mind, no matter what the consequences. But now, he's just sitting there, munching on his pizza crust.

"So. . . uh, waddayathink?" I eek out, diving for the last of the Modjos.
"About what?" he counters, calmly stealing a thick Modjo slice off my plate.
"Uh... the job," somebody with a voice like mine says.
Silence.
"Do you think I should take the job?" I ask, my emotions (finally) boiling up to the surface.
"I think," he mutters, not even trying to hide a small sigh, "if it is work you think you can do; work you think you think you would like, for an amount of money, benefits and growth opportunities justifying the investment of your time and..."
"But what do you THINK?!" I ask, cutting him off, and now painfully aware of how transparent my doubts are. He sighs. (Again.)
"I think," he says, shifting in the booth, as he starts again, "If it's work you think you can do, that you think you'll like, for that kind of money..."
He doesn't even bother to finish.

The talk eventually turns to the impact of the adult industry (hegemony, dominant beauty standards, and the usual White Opression talk) and the kind of influence I'll have if I take this job. But for the first time in my ENTIRE life, my dad doesn't urge me to rebel-doesn't incite revolution. No, he tells me not to rock the boat, just learn all that I can, and focus on the new skill sets I can pick up, for the NEXT job.

Several months later, the topic comes up at a small family gathering. Over the course of the discussion, I admit/confess/brag I'm enforcing the dominant, fascist body cult, and contributing to low self-esteem everywhere, and (only half-joking) cap it off, saying, "I don't feel like I'm oppressing anybody!"

But as the laughter died down, a thought jumped up, into focus: All those times in the past, when it felt like there was some larger force, an unseen system 'keeping me down' maybe those pricks didn't know how much they were hurting people-hurting me... but the warm glow of enlightenment dims as I realize that at some point, they knew. It was pointed out to them, or they knew all along but didn't have to face the ugly truth at the start of their oppression, whatever. The point is, they kept going, even after they KNEW the negative impact, which means they intend to inflict harm, and didn't lose any sleep over it.

But hey, when it's work you think you can do; work that you'll like... you fight the power, buck the system and speak your mind when it will be most effective, not just when its called for.

Thanks for letting me learn this one on my own, pops.

HE'S A DANCIN MACHINE

OK, so I know nobody asked, but here's my list of cock-rockin' tunes for May (in no particular order):

Lazy [Freeform Five Remix] X-Press 2 feat David Byrne - A hot little white label, no-holds barred, tower-of-power horns house mix I've been trying to track down for about two years now. Amazing.

Tipsy [Original Version] J-Kwon - Every boy needs a booty shakin' track to play as he towels off after his morning shower.

Everything's Not You [Quivver Space Mix] Quiver - Another track, from a few years back, rockin' my world even HARDER, now that I've got a copy to call my own. Decadent vocals, epic breakdown and a killer build-up... I'm in heaven.

Galvanize [Album Version] Chemical Brothers feat Q-Tip - Phat, freaky, wet, wicked and wild. This one really gets the blood pumpin. Everytime I hear it, I get so amped up, I forget that I don't know what it is REALLY about, too busy thrashin' around to listen for clues.

Give It Away [Album Version / Extended Club Mix] Deepest Blue - I first heard this one, as part of a mash-up featuring the vocals from iiO's "Rapture," which filled my head and haunted my soul until I found the original version. And it haunts me still.

and finally . . .

If I Can't Sell It, I'll Keep Sitting On It from the Broadway production of "Just Between Friends," starring the incomparable Bea Arthur. You have to hear this one to appreciate it, but trust me when I say it is delicious. (You can buy it at the iTunes music store for only 99c, so check it out!)

NO JOKES ABOUT FLAMING, OK?

Your Element Is Fire

Your passion and emotion are as obvious as the brightest flame. You make sparks fly, and your passion always has the potential to burst out. You are exciting and creative - and completely unpredictable. You sometimes exercise control, and sometimes you let yourself go. Friends describe you as sensitive, spirited, and compulsive. Bright and blazing with intensity, you seem mysterious and moody to many.

What's Your Element?

AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING DIFFERENT...

OK, so I've bitched quite a bit about my last job. But there were aspects of the job I really, truly loved: The people. No, not just because they were so damn sexy (although, that was a plus) but because they were so cool. I met plenty of amazing people working in the porn industry--I'd have to say I was blessed.

WHACHU' TINK U KNOW?

Posted by: zippersparks

WHACHU' TINK U KNOW?
THE FOLLOWING WAS POSTED TO THIS SITE, ANNONYMOUSLY:


"Dude, are you on crack? 'Six months'? He was out of the office for about seven weeks total. Check your calendar or HR... seriously."

I'D LIKE TO TAKE A MOMENT TO ADDRESS THIS, IF I MAY:

1. If you actually READ the post, it implies that he was not there for a TOTAL of six months of my first YEAR, meaning that when you add ALL the time up, he wasn't there for the majority of the time.

2. The seven week period where he was out, was only for the ACTUAL surgery -- that doesn't include the time off for the first procedure, OR the time off for appointments.

AND FINALLY:

No, I am NOT on crack -- what a RUDE thing to say. Even MORE disturbing, is the fact that you obviously know who I am, but don't even have the B@LLS to identify yourself, you damn, ignorant stoner.

Sheesh

PART TWO:

Posted by: zippersparks

PART TWO:
"And for my next trick. . ."

OK, so let's fast forward past the inevitable: The fact that the process of revamping the magazine is a horror (nobody helps, it turns into a big mess, my boss comes back from his surgery and totally f*cks with everything I've spent the past three months on), the fact that while my boss was away, everything went haywire, that they made me go to therapy (for tardiness) and the fact that over half of the staff is gone. Yeah, let's just jump right past that, to the part where my boss gets back and (over the course of several weeks) makes the following comments:

"I never thought your writing was very good."

"You don't seem to be able to do you job, on a day-to-day-basis."

"Look, that's the way it is. I have the bigger office so I make the rules. You should be smart enough to recognize that."

"Is that what you're eating?"

So now he's back (which I had been waiting for, thinking that once he was back, the job would be 'worth it' again, or at least the hardship would be bearable), and proceeds to completely change my work behind my back, and present it to the Pres/Pub as my work (she caught on, but didn't do much about it), and generally treated me like a second-class citizen. When I asked him why another employee got better treatment, his response was, "Look, So-and-So does his job REALLY well. . ." and then, realizing his mistake, he stopped.

So there it was. I mean, he was right, I should be smart enough to figure it all out. But it wasn't a matter of my intelligence. If things really were as I was lead to believe (that everyone else had their sh!t together, and I was the lone screw-up), I'm smart enough that I would have recognized that.

OK, so I got more of my shit together. But that still didn't help. I did everything they asked of me, no matter HOW ridiculous, including changing how I dressed (only on the days we had meetings). But none of it worked! I'll give you a classic example:

There were complaints (I was told) that I wandered around the company too much -- that I was in other people's space/face too much and that I was too loud. So, I sat at my desk, and if I needed to speak with someone, I used the intercom system. Only thing is, if this person was in the same room, they would freak out. Apparently, they thought this was weird, and even MORE annoying than when I walked around.

So, the chatter became that I was weird. So, I walked around, only when absolutely necessary, and spoke very quietly, kept my hands at my side and my eyes down. Which made people assume there was something terribly wrong with me (illness, drugs, they assumed everything -- even that I was related to the Pub/Pres!).

Bottom line: No matter what I did, people just liked to bitch and moan. And the Pub/Pres took all the office gossip as fact, and managed based on what "the grapevine" had to say.

It was never, "So, tell me what's going on with So-and-So," but, "Why can't you get along with So-and-so?" or, "So I hear you're annoying So-and-so, could you knock it off?"

I mean, everyone just complained to throw attention off of what they were doing (leaving for 3 hour "lunches", bringing their dog to work and keeping it under their desk, or showing up and hour late every day, just to name a few). And it was like management couldn't function unless there was someone to string up, and, well. . . I'll let YOU finish that thought.


MY PART
OK, so I have to take ownership of a few things. First of all, my reactions to everything I just mentioned ranged from unacceptable to psychotic, I'll admit that. I flew way off the handle a number of times, and never really gave it much thought. I didn't always have my sh!t together, either. And after a while, although I followed every order, I would bitch and moan about it, or do it with clenched teeth and fists. Not exactly a model employee, I know. I'm not going to blame anyone else, or point the finger. I was a SH!THEAD, no two ways about it.


SO, NOW WHAT?
Things were chugging along, disaster after disaster, and I started to wonder where it was all going. I shared my concerns with the Pub/Pres and the VP of HR, both of whom asked me to "hang in there" because "things were going to change in a major way" but they couldn't say how or when.

Then, things changed.

[to be continued]

I MAY NOT HAVE A JOB...

But I have a good time,
With the boys that I meet
Down on the line.

Said, I don't need you,
So you don't approve?
Well, who asked you to?

-from "Wham! Rap" by Wham

Man, I am really FEELIN' this one right now...