From the point of conception
To the moment of truth
At the point of surrender
To the burden of proof
From the point of ignition
To the final drive
The point of a journey
Is not to arrive
Anything can happen....
~ ”Prime Mover,” N. Peart ‘87
Easter Sunday 4/8/12 8:52 P.M.
Train home from Long Island
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What is sexually perverted? Is it porn? Being gay? Sex outdoors? Threesomes? Orgies? What about masturbation or oral sex? Does the fact that I dig watching guys have sex make me a pervert or are you just boring and unevolved?
It depends on whom you ask, the area from which they come, the particular era in which the question is being asked. Age. Gender. Persuasion. In other words, one person’s sexual perversion is another person’s normalcy.
It’s amazing how uptight people still are about sex, yet open the New York Post and the first picture you’ll likely see is some scantilly clad, hot babe (rarely any guys, though). In the late 90s, we giggled at the new Viagra ads; these days, not only are TV commercials for “erectile dysfunction” commonplace, there are also commercials for female arousal, lubricant, and condoms.
But we’re basically still a nation of gigglers. This applies much more to straight folks than gay men. In the straight world, men chase women, and women control the men, who are left in a perpetual state of being grateful for whatever scraps they can get. I’m often reminded of Oliver Twist, “Please sir, I want s’more.” I think it’s this
game “understanding” that keeps the subject of sex at a very
And if you don’t like it, just call it “perverted,” and everyone scatters.
I have no problem telling straight people what I do; it’s just that a lot of those people have a problem with hearing it. I’ve even had two women ask, “It’s not child porn, right?”
That’s the first place you go to? For real? But that’s the reality of what a lot of people still think. When I went downtown to officially register “The Orgy Guy,” you should’ve seen the looks on their faces. I said something like, “I get that a lot,” to which one of them replied, “Doesn’t bother me, I got six kids.” As if that was supposed to equate to sexual sophistication. I’d actually suggest the opposite.
But I think that’s slowly changing. America’s perception of gays has changed tremendously over the last twenty years. Gay marriage was barely a concept; we were still fighting being fired or kicked out of our homes for being gay. And in another twenty years or so, porn won’t be something that’s “peddled” by sleezy deviants, but just another “so what?” part of life.
Think about it: even just ten years ago, does anyone really believe that a guy like me could fill an apartment with men who want to have themselves filmed, having sex? The first time I had one of those parties, I was afraid no one would even show up. Well, they did...and I’ve got hours of footage to prove it.
I’m also of the mind that the porn industry will become, for lack of a better term, “gentrified” by normal people like me who just want to make a good living with a business that’s fun. As much money as there is in porn, most banks and web tools like “Google Wallet” still won’t allow anything porn related because so many sex industry people really are low lifes who aren’t exactly ethical. Get more normal people involved in the pornography industry and see that begin to change.
After all, it’s kids should be giggling at sex, not grownups.
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This is the most hopeful I’ve ever felt, like I’m on the precipice of something big.
I’ve got six 30-minute movies produced and ready to go. I’m just waiting on the still-under-construction web site capability to accept payments online, as well as downloading videos. It’s getting there. Hopefully by next week.
The site will also have another component, which was my original concept for the site, and really ought to drive a lot of traffic to it. I don’t want to say what it is until it’s actually up and running. But it’s very exciting and pragmatic.
Each video captures an experience I had at my first sex party, where I got up real close to two guys fucking, and watched cock sliding in-and-out of hole, and the top getting off on my watching it. These movies capture that, and they celebrate the total awesomeness of sex by men who aren’t there to get paid. All six videos are fucking hot.
Please check out the “Movies” tab on this blog to see some shots. Each video is named after a song from my two favorite bands.
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Folks may wonder why I’m naming porn movies after songs from Rush and Nirvana. What’s the connection? I really like them.
I’m not into gratuitous verbiage and imagery. With porn, we’re typically fed a lot of that. It’s as if they’re marketing to stupid people...or maybe it’s just that stupid people are doing the marketing. I’ve found that most of the gay men I’ve met at my parties are pretty smart and can actually have a conversation about sex that doesn’t include phrases like, “fuck fest” or “massive tools throbbing.” It sounds condescending to me, and like they’re trying too hard.
I go for things that are uncompromised and genuine. When someone is trying to look or sound or be like someone/thing else, I move on. I go for those who do what they truly love, and more or less merely hope that others will like it. Whether I dig something or not, I can at least respect the fact that they’re original and authentic.
This is what Rush and Nirvana are about.
Rush appeals to my brainy, spiritual, perfectionist, professional side, while Nirvana satisfies my need to stamp out my fears with very little thought and a whole lot of pure adrenaline. One is a carefully crafted portrait, while the other is a celebration of paint splatter. They’ve always done it their way and the results are super-honest and totally recognizable.
Rush and Nirvana did it their way. They didn’t cave to pressure; in fact, they were inspired by it to be more themselves. To humbly quote Robert Frost, “And that has made all the difference.”
I chose song titles that are somewhat relative to sex, instead of ones which have nothing to do with it (“Tom Sawyer”) or could be misleading (“Smells Like Teen Spirit”).
Most of all, though, I just want to do stuff that excites me and makes me want to do more. I’m not asking anyone to like these bands.
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One final note on “The Sloth.” His name is actually John.
I accept responsibility for what happened. When he came to my party, it wasn’t to get pissed off and go drop a dime on me. He came for the same reason everyone else presumably did, to get laid.
If I had been nicer to him, he’d probably have been fine (slow as heck, but fine otherwise). I wouldn’t think he’d necessarily be a menace to another host, but then I certainly wouldn’t take that chance, either. Regardless, his identity has not been forwarded to the other hosts (‘cept one).
One of the most effective ways for me to run the kind of party I’m known for – normal, non-uptight guys in a very comfortable setting – was to not be a push-over; to let the more high maintenance guys know, right off the bat, that this wasn’t the place for that type of behavior. It worked quite well, until someone came who really didn’t appreciate it.
I have to face the simple facts that I hosted sex parties, that I put myself in the position to worry about dimes dropping, that I was less than cordial to a small percentage of guys (most guys who’ve contacted me have said I’m the most cordial host, but I’d give that moniker to Lidell).
In any event, if I fill a pot with water, throw a chicken in with onions and celery and carrots, then turn on the flame, I should not be surprised when it turns into chicken soup. I set everything up for this guy to do what he did.
But, dude, you’re still an asshole who really needs to get over the need to teach people lessons or get people back. Take it from me: it’s much better to use that person as a means to better your own life, without having to try to ruin theirs.
But thank you anyway for giving me the proverbial kick-in-the-ass, to get me going on the path I’d been avoiding for some time. I’ve never been this excited before.
Anything can happen....
The Örgy Guy