Sunday, April 20, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Fleshbot and Networking
This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot enjoys the new season’s opportunities for sex outside the bedroom. Stay creative by considering your options, such as a shaded country lane, an arena parking lot or a reeking Port-a-John.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find Bridget reporting the bride’s-eye view of her perfect wedding. Keep an eye on the dance floor: you may recognize a few flying feet.
Stalkers now have additional ways to find me, via Fetlife. Links are provided here and at right. Click along and add me to your network.
You won’t find me at Twitter, the allure of which continues to elude me. Apparently, the site’s purpose is to allow users to report on their activities and whereabouts at any given time. Who invented this? My mother? If I want you to know where I am right now, you already know. Otherwise, it’s none of your business—though you probably know anyway.
Now I need to run. Lillie’s packing and I should try to keep up.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find Bridget reporting the bride’s-eye view of her perfect wedding. Keep an eye on the dance floor: you may recognize a few flying feet.
Stalkers now have additional ways to find me, via Fetlife. Links are provided here and at right. Click along and add me to your network.
You won’t find me at Twitter, the allure of which continues to elude me. Apparently, the site’s purpose is to allow users to report on their activities and whereabouts at any given time. Who invented this? My mother? If I want you to know where I am right now, you already know. Otherwise, it’s none of your business—though you probably know anyway.
Now I need to run. Lillie’s packing and I should try to keep up.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Moving, By Lillie
Every day in school, Lillie has free time to write whatever she chooses in a daily diary. Here is today’s entry.
Need some tips on moving? Then read this paragraph!
Moving in fourteen days in is very hard! When you have to move in fourteen days, you have to pack, arrange the new house and say bye to everyone! Sometimes when you, for example, need to do laundry, people say stuff like, “Bye, gonna miss you! What’s your new house like? Where are you moving?” And anything else. That could put you under pressure because you have to race back upstairs and keep packing. This is very stressful. You can have no free time sometimes!
Sometimes, you have to get rid of stuff in your house that you like and replace it. But you can also think happy things. If you’ve always wanted a pet and your old building didn’t allow them, you might be able to get that pet in your new building.
Here’s a few tips when you pack:
1. When you’re packing books, put them sideways so there’s more room in the box.
2. When you pack clothing, fold them so there’s more room.
Well, good luck moving!
The End.
Bye,
Lillie
Lillie had not yet packed anything when she wrote this entry. When she came home from school, she promptly sorted and filled boxes with her stuffed animals and books. The discards, she said, will go to “hungry kids.”
Need some tips on moving? Then read this paragraph!
Moving in fourteen days in is very hard! When you have to move in fourteen days, you have to pack, arrange the new house and say bye to everyone! Sometimes when you, for example, need to do laundry, people say stuff like, “Bye, gonna miss you! What’s your new house like? Where are you moving?” And anything else. That could put you under pressure because you have to race back upstairs and keep packing. This is very stressful. You can have no free time sometimes!
Sometimes, you have to get rid of stuff in your house that you like and replace it. But you can also think happy things. If you’ve always wanted a pet and your old building didn’t allow them, you might be able to get that pet in your new building.
Here’s a few tips when you pack:
1. When you’re packing books, put them sideways so there’s more room in the box.
2. When you pack clothing, fold them so there’s more room.
Well, good luck moving!
The End.
Bye,
Lillie
Lillie had not yet packed anything when she wrote this entry. When she came home from school, she promptly sorted and filled boxes with her stuffed animals and books. The discards, she said, will go to “hungry kids.”
Monday, April 14, 2008
Fleshbot and Girl Talk
This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot ties down submissives to get an earful from the bottom. Ball gags off, please.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me with some of the birthday girls—and still one to go!—wondering what’s with all the Aries in my life?
Tilda decided she would like a gangbang for her birthday, and asked me to invite one man for every year of her life. Did I mention she turned thirty-six?
A little while ago, Sinclair of Sugarbutch Chronicles asked me to participate in a contest. She invited eleven bloggers to submit erotic scenarios that she would elaborate into salacious sex tales. (I was the only biological male she asked, more evidence in support of my contention that I’m the last stop on the road to lesbian, and the first exit on the return.)
Now that Sinclair has concluded her series, it’s time for readers to vote—who will be the next Sugarbutch Star? This button will take you to a page where you can vote for your choice. You can also read the complete series.
Here’s an update on my family crisis: it seems to be coming to a resolution, as this weekend, I signed a lease on a new place. I’ve certainly learned a good deal about New York real estate in the process of searching for a home. I can’t wait to forget it all. Thanks so much to those of you who helped to make this possible, and who have inquired after my family. Stay tuned for more.
Speaking of tuned, my daughter Lillie enjoys tuning in on anything any girls are doing anywhere. She’s surrounded herself with a clique of girls in school, anointing one her BFF and the rest her “special friends.” The gang allows one boy to be around, she tells me, “but only because it’s fun to rub your hands on his hair.”
One afternoon, as we rode the bus home after school, Lillie fell quiet and eavesdropped on two teenage girls gossiping in the seat behind us.
“Yeah, but she was already with that one guy and then she hooked up with that other guy. She’s a slut, if you ask me.”
“No, she’s not,” her friend said, her voice rising in disagreement. “That dude was gone. He didn’t even live anywhere near her. That shit was over.”
“I don’t care about that,” the first teen argued. “If you say you’re with somebody, you don’t just go off and hook up with someone else. That’s just two timing.”
“What was she supposed to do? Just sit around, doing nothing? When it’s over, it’s over. End of story. She got herself a new man.” She sat back. “I’d have done the same damn thing.”
“Oh yeah?” her friend laughed. “What, would you get knocked up, too, like she did?”
“No! I’m not stupid. I’d use protection. But no way am I sitting around waiting on some boy to call.”
“Yeah, me too,” the first girl agreed. “She just should’ve told him it was over before she hooked up with the other guy. That’s what she should’ve done.”
“Yeah,” her friend nodded. “That shit’s fucked up.”
The girls paused, looking out the window. Lillie smiled up at me, excited to have been privy to such salacious adolescent gossip. I bobbed my head, pretending we weren’t listening.
“Anyway,” the first said. “What’s up with her name?”
“I know!” her friend laughed. “She’s got such an old lady name.”
“’Hester.’ Who names anyone that?”
“It’s like an old lady name.”
“It makes me think of a rat.”
“A baggy old lady with wrinkles.”
“A baggy old lady rat with wrinkles.” The girls giggled.
“Seriously.” The first girl stared out the window. “’Hester Prynne.’ What an effed-up name.”
After we left the bus, Lillie watched the teens walk off in another direction. “Those girls are so mean to their friend,” she said, almost admiringly.
I took her hand as we crossed the street. “Sweetie, I think they were talking about a character in a book, not a real person.”
She look up and rolled her eyes. “Dad, that was real.” She looked over her shoulder at the teenagers. “That’s what girls talk about—real stuff.”
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me with some of the birthday girls—and still one to go!—wondering what’s with all the Aries in my life?
Tilda decided she would like a gangbang for her birthday, and asked me to invite one man for every year of her life. Did I mention she turned thirty-six?
A little while ago, Sinclair of Sugarbutch Chronicles asked me to participate in a contest. She invited eleven bloggers to submit erotic scenarios that she would elaborate into salacious sex tales. (I was the only biological male she asked, more evidence in support of my contention that I’m the last stop on the road to lesbian, and the first exit on the return.)
Now that Sinclair has concluded her series, it’s time for readers to vote—who will be the next Sugarbutch Star? This button will take you to a page where you can vote for your choice. You can also read the complete series.
Here’s an update on my family crisis: it seems to be coming to a resolution, as this weekend, I signed a lease on a new place. I’ve certainly learned a good deal about New York real estate in the process of searching for a home. I can’t wait to forget it all. Thanks so much to those of you who helped to make this possible, and who have inquired after my family. Stay tuned for more.
Speaking of tuned, my daughter Lillie enjoys tuning in on anything any girls are doing anywhere. She’s surrounded herself with a clique of girls in school, anointing one her BFF and the rest her “special friends.” The gang allows one boy to be around, she tells me, “but only because it’s fun to rub your hands on his hair.”
One afternoon, as we rode the bus home after school, Lillie fell quiet and eavesdropped on two teenage girls gossiping in the seat behind us.
“Yeah, but she was already with that one guy and then she hooked up with that other guy. She’s a slut, if you ask me.”
“No, she’s not,” her friend said, her voice rising in disagreement. “That dude was gone. He didn’t even live anywhere near her. That shit was over.”
“I don’t care about that,” the first teen argued. “If you say you’re with somebody, you don’t just go off and hook up with someone else. That’s just two timing.”
“What was she supposed to do? Just sit around, doing nothing? When it’s over, it’s over. End of story. She got herself a new man.” She sat back. “I’d have done the same damn thing.”
“Oh yeah?” her friend laughed. “What, would you get knocked up, too, like she did?”
“No! I’m not stupid. I’d use protection. But no way am I sitting around waiting on some boy to call.”
“Yeah, me too,” the first girl agreed. “She just should’ve told him it was over before she hooked up with the other guy. That’s what she should’ve done.”
“Yeah,” her friend nodded. “That shit’s fucked up.”
The girls paused, looking out the window. Lillie smiled up at me, excited to have been privy to such salacious adolescent gossip. I bobbed my head, pretending we weren’t listening.
“Anyway,” the first said. “What’s up with her name?”
“I know!” her friend laughed. “She’s got such an old lady name.”
“’Hester.’ Who names anyone that?”
“It’s like an old lady name.”
“It makes me think of a rat.”
“A baggy old lady with wrinkles.”
“A baggy old lady rat with wrinkles.” The girls giggled.
“Seriously.” The first girl stared out the window. “’Hester Prynne.’ What an effed-up name.”
After we left the bus, Lillie watched the teens walk off in another direction. “Those girls are so mean to their friend,” she said, almost admiringly.
I took her hand as we crossed the street. “Sweetie, I think they were talking about a character in a book, not a real person.”
She look up and rolled her eyes. “Dad, that was real.” She looked over her shoulder at the teenagers. “That’s what girls talk about—real stuff.”
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
HNT
Seventy-six degrees in Central Park. Tomorrow the temperature drops twenty degrees, so enjoy the bare footing while you can.
Letter of the Week
Here’s a nice pick-me-up. The following was chosen as Time Out New York’s “Letter of the Week,” in response to the Secret Lives issue earlier this month.
Secret Service
Thanks to your Secret Lives of New Yorkers issue, I found a guy who could give me an orgasm! After being so intrigued by Jefferson’s story, I went to his blog, we emailed a bit and then had a meeting. After much cunnilingus, he was successfully able to get me off! He was the second man to ever do that. (Thank God for vibrators.) He might be helping me find my g-spot soon, too! Thanks again!
A., via email
She only left out the part in which I had to remove a painting from the wall she had been slammed against.
Secret Service
Thanks to your Secret Lives of New Yorkers issue, I found a guy who could give me an orgasm! After being so intrigued by Jefferson’s story, I went to his blog, we emailed a bit and then had a meeting. After much cunnilingus, he was successfully able to get me off! He was the second man to ever do that. (Thank God for vibrators.) He might be helping me find my g-spot soon, too! Thanks again!
A., via email
She only left out the part in which I had to remove a painting from the wall she had been slammed against.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Fleshbot and Good
This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot holds its nose and makes do with the man who’s available. He may not be Mister Right, but at least he’s Mister Right Now.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me spinning tunes, getting fed and dancing with the bride.
Janie takes a listen to my tunes and is reminded of a past queer romance.
Bridget swallows hard and breaks some difficult news to my children—she will not be marrying their father because she is marrying another man. I think she actually shocked them.
This weekend, my family was part of the ceremony as she and Connor married. It was really, truly beautiful to see my sweet Bridget jump the broom with her handsome groom. I tell you, when Bridget gave up our sexual relationship to be with Connor, she totally traded up. That man is superfine. He’s so adoring of her, and—as readers of her blog know—perfectly kinky and sexy. They’ve got the hot monogamy game down pat.
As we danced at the reception, we were surrounded by people who love my friend and rejoice in her happiness. When good things happen to good people, it’s a good reminder that being good to people is . . . good. It comes back in goodness.
And that’s all to the good.
As my recent life has become fraught with challenges, I’ve been thinking about goodness. I always want to be someone people feel they can count on, and now, as I’m in a bad way, I’m grateful for the good people in my life. Bridget and Connor, for example—even in the midst of planning a wedding, they’ve been concerned for my family and our current situation. Honest to goodness, she was nearly apologetic about the timing of her honeymoon.
Compare that to this. Now and then, I’ll get an email from someone upset that I’m not available to fuck or hang out. And I think: really? Do I have to put out in order to maintain this relationship? That’s not good.
I’m glad to be a good lay, but these days, I can only satisfy people who are good enough to be good.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me spinning tunes, getting fed and dancing with the bride.
Janie takes a listen to my tunes and is reminded of a past queer romance.
Bridget swallows hard and breaks some difficult news to my children—she will not be marrying their father because she is marrying another man. I think she actually shocked them.
This weekend, my family was part of the ceremony as she and Connor married. It was really, truly beautiful to see my sweet Bridget jump the broom with her handsome groom. I tell you, when Bridget gave up our sexual relationship to be with Connor, she totally traded up. That man is superfine. He’s so adoring of her, and—as readers of her blog know—perfectly kinky and sexy. They’ve got the hot monogamy game down pat.
As we danced at the reception, we were surrounded by people who love my friend and rejoice in her happiness. When good things happen to good people, it’s a good reminder that being good to people is . . . good. It comes back in goodness.
And that’s all to the good.
As my recent life has become fraught with challenges, I’ve been thinking about goodness. I always want to be someone people feel they can count on, and now, as I’m in a bad way, I’m grateful for the good people in my life. Bridget and Connor, for example—even in the midst of planning a wedding, they’ve been concerned for my family and our current situation. Honest to goodness, she was nearly apologetic about the timing of her honeymoon.
Compare that to this. Now and then, I’ll get an email from someone upset that I’m not available to fuck or hang out. And I think: really? Do I have to put out in order to maintain this relationship? That’s not good.
I’m glad to be a good lay, but these days, I can only satisfy people who are good enough to be good.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
My Dog
Last night I went with friends to see Nellie McKay at Joe’s Pub. She’s a great performer, even if much of the time you watch thinking, “What the hell is she going on about?” She’s got a quirky mind that moves too rapidly to be followed.
After the show, I found myself backstage. I watched as people queued to tell her how much they had enjoyed the performance.
I smiled at the man standing next to me. “I suppose I’d get in line if I could think of something to say other than, ‘you’re a tad insane, aren’t you?’”
The man grinned, and I realized he was David Byrne. “She really is great. I’d like to see her in a long-running show of her own.”
I looked back to her. “Yeah? You mean, like a house devoted to her for a run?”
He nodded. “Yes, that would be really great. Don’t you think?”
I agreed. We talked a bit about the Armory Show before someone interrupted to give David a poem. David thanked the poet and excused himself to stand in line. I guess he had thought of something clever to say. Too bad; I was going to use his “you should put on a show” line.
I told Lynsey about my encounter with a Talking Head. I regretted that I didn’t have camera, as I would have liked a picture of my foot with David Byrne and Nellie McKay. Lo and behold, our house stick artist makes it so:
I see Nellie has more upcoming New York dates, including a live broadcast on the Prairie Home Companion. Speaking of Garrison Keillor, what the hell is he going on about?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Fleshbot and Cougars
This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot holds a few surprises. Go look and see—but remember, you were warned.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me arranging a special delivery at a sex event I didn’t attend, courtesy of our troops, for Tilda’s birthday.
Avah wonders if I’m "really poly." We’ll file that with the queries about whether I’m “really bi” or “really dom.” I promise I’ll get to those, dear readers, when I’m not busy juggling multiple relationships, having sex with men and women, and generally whupping ass.
Speaking of sex, I learned a new sex term this week from an unlikely source—my eleven-year-old son, Collie. I overheard him talking to his brother about a teacher at his school, whom he described as a “cougar.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “Is she tough?”
The boys looked at me for a moment. Collie laughed. “Uh, no, Dad. Do you really not know what that means?”
I felt myself being drawn deeper. “Should I be afraid to ask?”
Jason shook his head. “It means, like, a hot old lady.”
“Really?” I scanned my brain. “Huh, I wonder why that word is used . . .”
The boys listened expectantly. I caught them watching me.
“Oh, well, carry on!” I said, leaving the room. I could save my questions for Google.
Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me arranging a special delivery at a sex event I didn’t attend, courtesy of our troops, for Tilda’s birthday.
Avah wonders if I’m "really poly." We’ll file that with the queries about whether I’m “really bi” or “really dom.” I promise I’ll get to those, dear readers, when I’m not busy juggling multiple relationships, having sex with men and women, and generally whupping ass.
Speaking of sex, I learned a new sex term this week from an unlikely source—my eleven-year-old son, Collie. I overheard him talking to his brother about a teacher at his school, whom he described as a “cougar.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “Is she tough?”
The boys looked at me for a moment. Collie laughed. “Uh, no, Dad. Do you really not know what that means?”
I felt myself being drawn deeper. “Should I be afraid to ask?”
Jason shook his head. “It means, like, a hot old lady.”
“Really?” I scanned my brain. “Huh, I wonder why that word is used . . .”
The boys listened expectantly. I caught them watching me.
“Oh, well, carry on!” I said, leaving the room. I could save my questions for Google.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
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