(Plain talk about male bodies and man-on-man sex, so not for kids or the sexually modest — though raunchification is pretty much the apex of funny for early-teen boys)
☹️ 😢 😡 sad weeping furious on the anniversary of 9/11/01 , also on the day after the assassination of Charley-Horst Kirk-Wessel, occasions whose stench can only be properly countered by the celebration of small everyday human experiences that bring moments of delight, joy, and pleasurable physicality — not to take us away from the wreckage falling around us, but to assert and nourish what’s best in us, and not in any grand gesture or powerful speech, but in simple, everyday, silly, and earthy acts. Kharkiv Opera, but on a more intimate scale. Darwin had considerable reverence for the earthworm and its doings; let’s look to Darwin.
Two Facebook exchanges from yesterday, in which I write innocent comments (boldfaced below) that can, if you have the mind for it, be raunchified — understood as a raunchy double entendre:
with Edith Maxwell:
— EM: This morning’s meager pickings from my slightly ailing garden. But what is there is tasty!
(#1) From EM’s garden— AZ > EM Small but tasty is good.
with Ryan Tamares, who noted some rain in the morning at Stanford (we are still far from the rainy season, so even a bit of rain stuns most people).
— AZ > RT: Indeed. My patio is visibly wet, and when I go out to put compost on the garden strip, I can feel some droplets of water on my skin. It’s a strange feeling, doctor, what do you think I should do?
(#2) [RT:] From my lunchtime walk, after the rain …
Just after I wrote my comment, I recognized the raunch potential of My patio is visibly wet.
It takes a prepared mind to fall into raunchification; small, tasty, and patio are unlikely to evoke sexual scenes in most people’s minds. The adjective wet will, but it’s unlikely to do so in the context of a discussion of the weather in our local landscape. But it all depends on context.
The prepared mind. What I brought to these two sentences is very much a reflection of my own sexual story. If you don’t want to hear the details, this would be the place to leave; I’m going to tell my story in vivid street language, not cloaked by indirection, modesty, or technicality.
The two sentences play with my dick — widely seen as little, and therefore insufficiently butch, so not arousing desire (for my cute dick or for me as any kind of sexual partner) — and my ass, widely seen as muscularly male, so arousing desire (for my hot ass or for me as some kind of sexual partner). Now, like most gay men, I’m enthusiastic for kissing and sucking cock (everyday sex in my world), but I’m wild for getting a blow job and for getting fucked. The acts that lead me to raunchify those comments in very specific ways: 1, my dick is in fact compact, with great mouthfeel, smell, and taste, so eat my dick, cocksucker!; and 2, my ass is spread open and lubed, inviting, so fill me up with that big hard cock, fuckme fuckme fuckme!
Small but tasty is good. From my 2/7/20 posting “Preferences, labels, and little pockets”:
My own 5″ … was once described, by a satisfied t-room partner, as “a perfect mouthful” — big enough to do the job, but in no way challenging — which was meant, and taken, as praise. (Oh yes, I had a strongly musky scent and taste, sort of like distilled lockerroom, which some men … found powerfully attractive.)
5″ is on the lower side of normal, so in a culture that’s obsessed with size and a sexual culture the equates dick size with power and masculinity, I got a fair amount of flak as a little-dicked faggot. But there’s no point in haranguing preferences and tastes. Meanwhile, there were enough perfect-mouthful guys around — my guy Jacques was conspicuously one — that I didn’t pine lonesomely for blow jobs.
And, after all, in the world of fruits and vegetables, the small ones are often the tastiest.
My patio is visibly wet. This would work for women as well as gay men: pubic hair wet with vaginal secretions, maybe some lube. But for guys this is the “male anus viewed as a sexual organ” of my 7/26/13 posting. From my 7/9/20 posting “Midnight Tropics”:
In street talk, [the photo] frames the model as having a really hot ass, eminently fuckable. Language familiar to me from my days in the sexual marketplace, decades ago, where my really hot, fuckable ass — arse, butt, whatever — was my big draw. Men told me so, and then they fucked me, to our mutual satisfaction, since my sexual preference, as an enthusiastic bottom (well, really, a bitch in heat), fit so beautifully with my physical attractions.
The overwhelming orgasmic side of these matters — we slide up to, and then lose ourselves in, an altered state of consciousness — shouldn’t overwhelm the endless small moments of pleasure, affection, comforting, playfulness, story-telling, accommodation, intimacy, surprise, and so on that go along with the joining of parts, and, for me, made the whole experience so delightful.
Kharkiv Opera, but on a more intimate scale. As I wrote above. An explanation from my 4/6/25 posting “Another day at the Kharkiv Opera”:
The reference to Kharkiv opera was explained in my scathing posting from 3/2/25, “Three men walk into a bar”:
I note that the Ukrainians have been managing to mount opera performances in an underground bomb shelter in the city of Kharkiv. They sing and dance and enjoy one another’s company. This is the country VZ [Volodymyr Zelenskyy] is fighting to save. Sing with me, friends.
Meanwhile, celebrate small acts of pleasure and earthy intimacy. Rescue the world, one moment at a time.
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