(men’s bodies and sex between men, sometimes described in street language, so entirely unsuitable for kids and the sexually modest)
Two gay porn scenes in which the partners take evident pleasure in their sex, as shown by the exchange of broad smiles during their acts (of enthusiastic manual, oral, and anal sex); each is experiencing pleasure himself and the satisfaction of pleasuring someone else, and together they are sharing socio-pleasure, the enjoyment of the company of others.
Today’s adventure in analyzing the jokey allusions in my postings. The target allusion is the one boldfaced in this passage from my posting yesterday (5/13), “The pocket bulge”:
[The DJX bulge booster] provides a soft but protective pocket in which a man’s package (of whatever size) can be unconstrained (hang free or peter out, as the slogan goes)
I explained half of the joke in a comment about my raw materials for this posting:
“Live Free or Die”, the official state motto of New Hampshire
But then there’s peter out, a verb of fading (before coming to an end), so ‘fade to death’ here, framed with a pun on peter, with a covert allusion to the penis hanging unconstrained within the bulge booster.
Fresh news for male genitalia, in a Daily Jocks e-mail ad today (5/13): DJX Prime Enhancing Underwear: an instant bulge booster. Provides the illusion of great size, thereby addressing the American male obsession with genital size as an indicator of solid masculinity, power, and consequence (one big dick to rule them all, as the saying goes). Also provides a soft but protective pocket in which a man’s package (of whatever size) can be unconstrained (hang free or peter out, as the slogan goes). And of course it comes in fabulous colors, for the fashion-minded; the ads revel in pink.
(tales of man-man sex, some of it in very plain street language, so not for kids or the sexually modest)
A story from my times at the gay baths, this one not previously reported on. From 1980, at the Club Baths of Toronto, a night out during the Biennial Meeting of the Philosophy of Science Association in Toronto, at which I gave a paper (“Internal” and “External” Evidence in Linguistics) in a symposium on “The Problem of Data in Linguistics”, now viewable on-line here.
The story has a poignant sequel in my current life as a solitary 85-year-old gay man with a lifelong high sex drive, which I’ll put off for a later posting because this one will be lengthy.
Yesterday’s dinner order (big enough for that meal and today’s lunch): the Meat Basket Salad from Tacos El Grullense #1, in Redwood City:
(#1) The meat basket at El Grullense #1 (the Tacos El Grullense Grill in Redwood City is the first in a Bay Area family-owned chain of taquerias): beans, choice of meat (grilled chicken for me), rice, onions, cilantro, salsa, lettuce, tomatoes, guacamole, cheese, and sour cream in a crispy tortilla basket
Spurred by Max Vasilatos’s show-n-tell at the most recent (5/3) soc.motss get-together on Zoom, some material on the S&M graphic artist REX, assembled from material in his Wikipedia entry; the summary paragraph:
REX (1943 – March 2024) was an American visual artist and illustrator closely associated with gay fetish art of 1970s and 1980s New York and San Francisco. He avoided photographs and did not discuss his personal life. His drawings influenced gay culture through graphics made for nightclubs including the Mineshaft and his influence on artists such as Robert Mapplethorpe. Much censored, he remained a shadowy figure, saying that his drawings “defined who I became” and that there are “no other ‘truths’ out there”. REX died in Amsterdam in late March 2024.
(much talk of men’s bodyparts and some of man-on-man sex, much of it in street language, so not suitable for kids or the sexually modest)
Background: from Benjamin Dreyer on Facebook yesterday (5/7), about assless:
— BD: My gosh, I’m in the dictionary.
(#1) From Merriam-Webster online
And my comment:
— AZ: why do I find no citations (anywhere I can see) of hyperbolic bodypart assless ‘having minimal buttocks’, esp. in assless Irishman (used ruefully by some Irish American men I know)?
Yesterday’s installment was on blood pressure (fabulous again today) and potassium level (requiring blood tests, so who knows?). Today, it’s flaking skin and diarrhea. The first is something of a mystery; the second turns out to be another tricky exercise in getting medication at just the right level.
A calendrical reminder, from my 5/4/24 posting on this blog:
today is (at least) three holidays, one deadly serious, two entertaining. … Four Dead in Ohio Day (remembering the 1970 Kent State shootings), Star Wars Day [May the Force be with you], and (in the US, where May 4th is 5/4) Dave Brubeck Day (for the 5/4 time signature in music [celebrated in Brubeck’s album Take Five])
Whassup? Every so often, a friend who, inexplicably, has not been following my postings attentively on a daily basis decides to catch up on things by e-mailing me to ask how I am, how I’ve been doing, what’s up with me, am I ok, or something else along these lines. Most recently, How are you? from a friend on 4/23; I told them more than they probably wanted to know, when something terse in between Not dead yet and Fabulous would have been enough.
If they wrote today, I’d be ready with a reply: fabulous. Well, as fabulous as it gets for a seriously disabled 85-year-old with (among other things) advanced kidney disease. This morning’s I’m still kickin’ e-mail to my daughter (somewhat edited and expanded):
Slept 6 pm to 4:12 am — 10 hours beginning to end, but only 8 hrs. of actual sleep, because of a long break for half-dozing sexual fantasies that crowded my mind and hi-jacked my body, culminating in a fabulous cataclysmic orgasm (a sign of robust general health). And then my first morning vitals (at 5:17 am) had blood pressure in my target zone (123/73) and pulse (at 64) as well.
Figuratively, I danced my happy happy joy joy dance. In actuality I methodically exchanged my soggy underwear for fresh, a morning ritual I’ve performed for 75 years now. But even the messiness of real life can be a delight. I’ve been given, all my life, to nearly dying from one thing or another, so it was inconceivable that I would live to old age; but here I am, with many of my gifts and pleasures either intact or transformed into others that are also valuable or satisfying. That’s just wonderful.
