Welcome to my little corner of the world, this is where I rant, rave, kvetch or wax on nostalgic about anything and anyone that crosses my path at that moment in time.
Sit down for a bit and read some. If you enjoy what you read, please pass the love on to others so that they may partake in the yummy goodness that lies here.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010


There again the scratching starts once more.  Continuously it goes unrelenting, never ceasing.  Three nights since it has started and for those three nights it has not ceased.  The first night I checked the door for the source of the noise to find nothing.  No marks, no signs of anything being there but after ending my search and after returning to what I was doing, it would begin again.  I check each time it starts, with each time finding nothing there.  I try to look beneath the door during the scratching to see what it could be but unable to see anything or the scratching would cease once I started to look momentarily.  I was thinking someone could be playing a joke on me so I check outside to see if anybody approach.  Look through all the possible windows to hopefully spot someone approaching, only to spot no one.  Several times I would stand at the door waiting for it to start, to be able to fling the door open to catch whatever could be there scratching.  Every time I would fling the door open, I would find nothing there.  Nothing.  Nobody running away, no animal scurrying off.  Nothing.  Yet it would begin again and again.  Continuing throughout the night, keeping me awake throughout the night.

The second night, more of the same.  I tried to ignore it at first, just go to bed and put it out of my mind but to no avail.  I would lie there focusing on the sound, focusing on it till I would continue to hear it even when it would stop.  I try to block out the sound with cotton in my ears, my hands, pillows, anything that could work but nothing did, the sound would just continue and just get louder.  It felt that it would get so loud that I could feel the sound as if something was lying on top of me scratching my skin.  As if the claws were digging into my skin at times.

The third night as I was sitting reading in my chair, trying to relax before bed, the scratching started once more.  It seemed more persistent, more determined to get in this night than the past two nights.  It sounded that it was much larger than the other nights with louder, deeper scratching.  I yelled at it to go away.  Banged on the door to make it go away, for it to stop.  It only persisted without relenting.  Not even my yelling or banging brought me any reprieve, I was forced to endure.  What could it be that would persist as such? I began to ponder.  Only a beast from Hell I surmised, trying to drive me to madness so it could then enter to drag me back to the Hell from which it came.

I began to imagine Hell. The demons with their horns, forked tongues and sharp teeth, all ready to torment any soul for the rest of eternity.  The fire and brimstone burning with an unimaginable heat that the flesh would catch afire but not be consumed by it.  There would be no reprieve from the flame, it would continue to burn with a thousand suns.  Hearing the weeps and wails from all the other tortured souls that would be there filling my head with their pain laden cries.  The demons evil laughter and joyous cackles with the pain they unleash upon all the souls, helping to add to the cacophony of pain and sorrow from the tormented.

I began to weep as I imagine this horror.

I yell at the door, kick at it to scare away the Hell hound that is there.  It does not work. I grab my Bible and begin to pray, evoking the Lord Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Angels and all manners of Saints to bring me salvation from this monster that besieges me, yet it continues.  I retreat back to the farthest corner away from the door that I can.  I pull myself in as tight as I can, covering my ears to block out as much of that wretched noise that I possibly can.  The tears stream from my face from the desperation that I feel.  Once more I plead for it to end.

I awaken lying on my floor, light streaming from the windows emanating from the morning sun.  The scratching has ceased now that day has broken.  I am safe for now.  What about tonight?  Will it come back again? Will it succeed with its mission tonight?

I cannot endure another night of this.

Someone please help me.

I plead for rescue from this.


Wednesday, December 22, 2010


I was flipping through the channels the other night and happened to stop on HBOZ while Real Sex Extra: Pornucopia was airing.  This show is about the ins and outs of the porn industry told by the actors and actresses of said industry.

On this particular episode was a straight man that does gay porn.  Read it again for effect and let it sink in.

Reason he does gay porn while being straight is that it pays more money.  Lots more.  Like 3000-5000 dollars PER scene; as opposed to 300-500 for straight porn per scene.

Now I know some of you are not for homosexuality, that's fine.  I on the other hand, believe it they are happy, so be it.  Who is to meddle with another persons happiness? Not me is who.

But I do have a problem with this guy claiming to be straight while being in gay porn. (Yes.  I do see the double standard from the previous statement.)  I don't see how that is possible.  Maybe if you factor in feelings and it is just sex, sure that argument can be made but the people watching him won't know that.  Does the video box or credits have his name followed by parenthesis saying straight man?

This guy reminded me of another story on MTV Real Life that I ran across one time.  This episode was based on people working in the sex industry while they friends, family and loved ones did not know.  Again there was a man on there claiming heterosexuality while getting paid to do gay porn.  Reason stated: get paid more.

I know throughout our lives we pose as people we are not to others all the time.  We either do it out of embarrassment, scared of what others will think or just trying to hide something.  We say the wife is doing great when she is fighting cancer or the husband got a promotion when he lost his job, etc, etc.

Though in this case, I believe you honestly lose a bit of yourself with something like this.  I don't mean in a religious sense and they will go to Hell, as that is not what this is about but that you lose some humanity along the way.  This isn't some small little lie you are telling family or friends to save face, it is mis-selling yourself to the world.  The people that watch those videos see you as a gay man, not as Mr. Hetero with a girlfriend.  Even if they did, they probably scoff going, "he'll come out one day."  I wonder how much trouble it must be going out in public, being recognized by a gay male couple, being approached and asked to join?

I would imagine that happens to both straight and gay, male and female workers in the porn industry; being approached by a couple (gay or straight) and asked if they would like to join.  Would be like asking a celebrity you see for an autograph while they are in the restroom taking care of business.

Why be a poser?

Why not just be true to yourself and to the world as to who you really are?

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

*sigh* Seems my true love must think I need to go on a diet.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Two turtle doves,

Must be the new avian diet that is all the rage.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three French hens,

Yep, must be.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four calling birds,

Most definitely.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five golden rings,

But where is the one ring to rule them all?

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,

Lazy geese. Or are these horny geese?

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,

Anybody want some birds, I have plenty.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,

Oh? Heeeyyyyy!!!! I got some milking needing done. Hee Hee.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,

YES!!! This is starting to look good. Where my dollars at?

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaping,

What? Wait…where the dancing ladies go? BRING THEM BACK!!!!

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eleven pipers piping,

I’m all about music appreciation but you’d think my baby would have hired some talent.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Twelve drummers drumming,

I’m getting a headache. Make it stop. Please.

Well, I have plenty of food, dancing ladies and music for a bachelor party, as well as lords for a bachelorette party. There is New Years coming up so looks like a kick ass party going on.

Side note: Since I own people, does that make me some sort of slave owner now? Am I gonna have marches and Jesse Jackson camping out on my yard?

I think I may have to re-think this ‘true love’ thing, seems my baby has set me up. Must be payback for forgetting her birthday.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Letting Go


"Just do it."

"No one will care.  No one will notice your passing."

These are the thoughts that pass through Michael's head as he stands on the outside of the bridge railing.  It is unclear what has brought Michael to this point. He has a good job, friends that love him and God smiles down good fortune towards him continually.  Yet, on a bridge bracing against the cold December wind, Michael has come to the point to end his life.

"What are you waiting for?, The Voice chimes in.  "Are you scared? There is nothing to fear.  There is nothing at the end.  No pain, no more suffering, no more feeling lonely, no more.  Feel the wind across your face.  The exhilaration of the speed of the fall.  It is just but a small step towards freedom."

Michael leans out from the railing, closes his eyes and imagines the feel of the wind, the rush of the fall.  It excites him.  He starts to loosen his grip on the railing, to relax his body, to become one with the fall.  He envisions the nothing at the end.

At that moment a strong gust of wind hits Michael, jarring him from his dream, knocking him back into the railing.  Instinctively he clutches the railing, like a child clutching his Mommy when scared.  Doubt crosses Michael's mind as to this task he has taken upon.

"I can't do this", Michael speaks aloud to himself.  "What am I doing on this bridge? This is not the answer."

"Yes it is."  The Voice comes back coolly and reassuring.  "Think about all those that never invite you to all their good times.  How often are you the one to call them, to only find out about some party that you only get invited to at that moment? You are but an after thought to them, only to be called upon when they need something from you or when they need to unload on you the excitement of their life."

"No.  You lie.  My friends are not like that.  They will miss me."

"You sound so certain, but I hear the doubt in your voice.  You don't really believe the words you speak."


"You can.  You will.  Just lean out against the wind.  Then just let go.  Gravity will do the rest."

"I CAN'T", yelled Michael out into the howling wind.

"Don't be a chicken Mikey, you might like it.  Never know till you try."  The Voice goads with a melodic tone reminiscent of school age children in the playground.

Trembling from the cold and the fear of the unknown, Michael once again prepares himself to do the unthinkable, take his own life.  Once more he steadies himself against the wind that buffets him back to the bridge, nearly having to push against it at times.  Closing his eyes, Michael lets it all go in his mind, family, friends, work.  He starts to wonder how it feels to not feel.  Not to have to worry about anything ever again.  Not to have to pay bills.  Not have to be not noticed again.  He starts to wonder who might attend his funeral.  Which friends and co-workers will stand at the casket asking themselves, "Could I have done more?" A smile creeps across his face, a smug little smile of satisfaction of knowing that he will be the center of attention for once, even if it is his death that must bring it about.

The Voice smiles, if The Voice had a face to smile from.

As the smug satisfaction washes over Michael, a most fortunate thing happens, a vision of beauty enters his mind.  A girl; one whose name is Lunastaja.  She works at the coffee shop that Michael stops in at every morning.  Lunastaja always treats him well, but that is her job though, right? No. It is something more with him, there is a warmer smile, a brighter inflection in her voice.  She knows my name.  She remembers it from the first time I gave it to her.  That accounts for something?

Doubt begins to push out the satisfaction that was there earlier.  No longer sure of the nothing that awaits him, Michael doubts.  Faltering against the determination that was there earlier, The Voice intercedes.

"You know she does not love you nor have any sort of interest in you, especially of one in any sort of romantic sense.  Her niceness, is only because she is serving you, not from any interest.  What do you have to offer anyways? Utter boredom from the pitiful life you lead.  A sudden absence from your daily mornings would have no affect on her life, she would just move on towards the next guy, to be a smiling whore towards.  After all, she only wants your money, for you to tip her better.  Which you do like some love struck puppy dog.  Disgusting."

"Love? I don't love her."

"You're right, you don't, so why hesitate?"

"I don't know."

"So...let...go."  The Voice says tenderly.

With that, Michael let go.

Michael let go of the thought, of the feeling, of the desperation, of the feeling of having nothing.  Michael realized in an instant that he had things to live for.  His friends would miss his company; his co-workers would as well.  He may not be the most popular around, but he is always there for them and he shall continue to be.  As for Lunastaja, Michael will find out if that smile an brightness in her voice is just 'doing her job' or is there a genuine interest there.

He'll know tomorrow when he asks her out.