Day: July 7, 2005

i just went through and wrote all the stuff that’s been happening with me…
NYC keeps me busy
sometimes i’m too tired to write about it..
but i always feel better when i do…
backdated the last few days… back to the 3rd, i think…

i woke up at about 5:30
with my Injun friend
the night before
i cooked him and Hypnodaddy dinner
Kitchari, of course
… and salad.
then we retired to the bed
i smoked cigarettes
the first in over a month
it made me feel tired
and odd in my body
what might have been a night of sex magic
turned into conversation
and i got in-depth into my ideas of “love”
and the difficulties of what i perceive of B and A’s relationship
yet the respect i have…
we talked about my freak-out idea about those on the planet that have sold their souls…
he tells me about Harry Hay’s ideas about “subject/object”
— the big problem with western culture is
they turn everything they want to exploit into an object made for the exploitation
be it a glass
or mountain
or nation of people
or wife, children, employees, etc…
as he talked like that
life’s colour drained out
everything was gray
and i wanted to die
then he started talking how the injun’s thought:
the glass was a gift
we give thanks
so glad it holds the water for us
the doll is alive
because we give it life
everything is alive because we respect it’s life
and if we give it enough life
that doll could get up and walk around…
Yes.
everything became palpably happy again.
he said
“but currently the world is a mess… i hope some elightened beings come along soon and clear this all up…”
laying in bed…
i tell him
i’ve always believed i should be that enlightened being who saves the world
(“in an intersteller burst: i’m back to save the universe”)
i tell him
i believe it’s only through love that that can happen
loving someone
perfecting myself for them
with him
they perfecting themselves for me
with me
for themselves…
as i: for myself.
:
we could do more with love together than we could ever alone…
but how can we make that happen?
i really see no good examples of that…
and all my lovers freaked out and ran scared from me
or dissapeared in a drunken sleep every night..
.. i have open hands now
i don’t do that any more…
he… he said that to
“no, i don’t do that anymore”
at that
we went to sleep.
woke at 5:30 or so
and i was struck by either my body keeping me from something
or his body keeping me from it…
so it was cuddling and talking
more story telling
and i drifted back into dreaming
woke around noon
and did yoga
for him to see
than jumped on the train
deciding not to go home and change
just went up to the garden in the bronx to work…
bridget wasn’t there
she didn’t show up til 5:30
and by that time
i had to leave soon to meet my Jewish Friend of the night…
but while i worked in the garden
i listened to Erlend Oye’s DJ Kicks album
Rilo Kiley
some of the new Verve Remixed..
Broken Social Scene
and Apostle of Hustle…
still caught up so much in Feist’s “Intuition”
… my brother called
and asked me if i would officate over his wedding…
is there a way i could become an official clergyman so i could marry him and his fiance?
i said i would look into it…

i am listed on two Escort sites on the internet.
though i have had a hand full of responses
(not really many… probably 10 or 15 in the year or so i’ve had them up there)
i had never met up with a client in that way…
though it has always interested me
the story of the hustler…
i just haven’t ever been able to pull it off…
that being said
i get calls nearly every day
often more than one
from my massage ad
i don’t count that as escorting..
though i am serving
i am in control
and the emphasis is not on sex…
i feel it is
in a way
healing and helping people work out their things
as opposed to them just working themselves further into them.
most of the replies i’ve had to my escort ads have been very “scene” heavy
— a friend of mine hustles from time to time
and he seems to realy enjoy the character acting aspect of it
— i can’t get into it..
“tie me up and tickle me”
“come over and let me fuck you for three hours: be my bitch”
(shrugs)
sometimes i’ll reply to them
and not hear back after whatever it is i write.
more oft than not
i just don’t reply.
…
SO some guy writes me… last week?
one sentance
“i wold like to meet you”
i reply
‘ what do you want?’
“im a jaw and I would like a message and you knew worth I mane”
hmmm
what
exactly
does he mean?
it takes a few days
but eventually i get him on the phone:
he’s a hessidic jew
he tells me he’s uncomfortable with paying for lust
so i ask him if he wants a massage or just sex
he says
“sex– -we’ll see what else happens”
i tell him he doesn’t have to pay me for anything:
of course… i WANT to have sex with him
and if i don’t have to work in a concentraded manner (massage)
he has no reason to pay me.
so we arrange it for tonight.
he left about an hour ago…
of course
he was adorable…
long beautiful payes
long beautiful beard
customarily chubby
thick accent
ideal…
fortunately
bridget didn’t come back to the house tonight
— he was going to take me out to dinner
then a hotel room..
maybe his house?
(his family is upstate for the summer…)
i convince him bridget won’t care even if she does come home…
so he gets us food from a Kosher resaurant not too far from here
and we take it back up stairs…
i’m shy about how messy the apartment is..
wouldn’t be usually…
but hessidic jews have a way of keeping things…
— he just seemed interested…
he looked so cute when he smiled…
we took off our clothes
i put on his tzises
we kissed
— his furr made a perfect line down his belly
broad large shoulders..
hairy..
he said he’d never cum more than once a day
is it possible?
i told him it was!
he said i should make him cum before dinner
and then after!
so i did!
however
i couldn’t just rush through it
i had to kiss him everywhere
rub my beard allover him
uncurl his beard
take off his yamaka
kiss him and kiss him
he told me he loved me
and wanted to hear me say it
so i did
there was lots of rubbing around
yes yes..
he came
we went to eat
matza ball soup, sesame chicken and steak and knish with a frank in the middle!
enough for now
he wanted to see my porn movie
so i put it on
while he wore my pink-robe/dress thing to protect himself from the neighbors seeing…
he said it turned him on
hard again
i sucked his dick, as he suggested
then took him back to my bed.
once again
i got distracted from just making him cum..
i don’t care about just making people cum
i want to taste everything
lick around
rub around
i want to make them feel so happy to be alive…
— he really likes being fucked
he’s never fucked a man
(but he has 5 children…)
(he’s 33)
i tell him i don’t often use condems
and he’s a bit freaked out about that..
he doesn’t know much
but he knows AIDS kills people
though he’s not really sure what it is
he was told you get it from having sex without condoms.
Well, yes.. but..
i start juggling the ideas around
telling him my beliefs about it
while i’m wrapt up in his legs
with my head resting on his thigh
i tell him every interraction with people is risky
i lick his balls for a while
suck his dick
he says he doesn’t want me to get into any trouble
i tell him
sometimes we need to get into trouble to have a full life
he says he doesn’t want me to ever get into any trouble
he says he loves me
and he’s concerned…
he says he doesn’t want me to have any sex with anyone but him
i tell him that would only be possible if he would fuck me and let me fuck him
without condoms
and i would get tested
only then would i agree to being monogamous with him
he says
“what’s monogamous?”
i suck his dick
and lick his legs
chew on his heel
rest my head on his thigh
rubbing his belly
he says
“so, if two men get tested and are clean and have sex with eachother there is no way they can get AIDS, right?”
inside i give a really big sigh.
i start many different ways
i try and explain that there is a difference between HIV and AIDS
i try to explain that it started somewhere…
and my theory is
is started in the guilt and lies and shame of men abusing themselves and their lovers…
he doesn’t understand “abuse”
(and later, when i’m massaging him, i ask him to tell me if i hurt him… he says “but when it hurts it’s good, right? my mother said that’s how you know it’s working: when it hurts”)
i try and explain…
i feel him just worrying him
he asks
“is there any way i could get anything from you?”
i give the answer
‘even a blow job is risky’
and that changes everything.
when he cums
he says “slow slow! it hurts!”
afterwards
he asks me to explain why it feels like he’s dying after he cums…
i try and talk about prana yama
trantra
there is so much to say!
i’m trying to confront him
trying to make him understand there is a spiritual aspect to sex..
the difference of “making love”
but i feel now he’s regretful and scared
he wants to leave
but he has a pain in his arm..
i offer to massage it
and i do
i lay him down
and begin working on him
and only then notice his bulging calves
his stubby finger
wide palms, thick skin.
how his beard flies out from his cheeks
his eyes…
his bull-neck
the massage is very painful for him
but he suffers through it
he breathes like a dragon
i try to understand
i try to fortify
i try to help release…
his eyes are red
he looks like a baby
he’s beautiful
so much is coursing through him
i’m worried about his safety on the road home…
though he only lives over the bridge…
i finish and notice he’s hard again
and tell him i would suck his dick again, but he has to drive home
he tells me i can do it
he’s never noticed it made him tired..
he picks up the American Grizzly magazine that the cover-guy had given to me down in florida
and leafs through it
asking me to suck him off yet again
so i cum this time
and he cums again
we talk a bit more
his face looks like Goat
his shoulders
the hair on his back
his neck
so hot
so…
otherworldly..
what do we do with these people?
we go to have desert.
he won’t dink my tea
(fresh catnip i gatherd from the garden today)
not kosher cups
can’t drink the water out of the cups
can’t use my utensils
we eat desert
with plastic forks
apple strudel
he checks to make sure there is no possible risk…
i smile and tell him there is none
could i teach anything?
i think now of the married men i know who play and don’t think about it
they don’t want to have to think about it
there is no risk
no worry
not for us
if i bring it up
they blink it away
or don’t respond
which i don’t feel is appropriate
i feel like you have to be aware of the fire
even if you’re deciding you’re not going to fall into it
just deciding it’s not there…
i know that works for many
but that’s not my way
i’m sorry i brought it up though…
but that’s who i am!
i bring it up!
whatever it is…
and i’m not sorry.
but there’s not a hug before he leaves…
a hand shake
” a pleasure meeting you ”
and all of that enthusiasm waned
he heads home
“do you remember where my car is?”