Monday, August 7, 2017

Folsom 2017, Up Your Alley, San Francisco Gay Pride

I missed the SF Gay Pride Parade this year, and don't care.  I gave Up Your Alley a pass, and don't care.  I haven't written off Folsom, however, probably because, unlike Pride, it doesn't try all that hard at being inclusive.  Folsom remains a festishist event, and a chance to meet kindred spirits, old friends and make new ones.  But we'll see; a lot depends on who's appearing on the entertainment program.  In years past, I've enjoyed Varla Jean Merman singing for real, an outrageously awful but still fabulous Dirty Sanchez, Heklina's ass eating antics and Kimo's hilarious '20 Years of Madonna in 20 Minutes'.  Uhm, that would be 30 Years now, but that's what it takes, I guess.  I checked the website and couldn't find the schedule.

As for Gay Pride and any related excitement, the Parade has become the victim of its own success: this is not really bad, but it is different and it shows how far we've come from drag queens lounging in limousines and go go boys (porn stars, barbacks) doing their thing on flatbed trucks.  Now we have 500 Yahoo types marching followed by 500 guys from Google and 500 more guys from Salesforce, going on and on; last year the Parade went on for about four hours and I'm assuming the same for this year's.  Lost, among all of this, are a dozen (or so, one does lose interest) so-called grand marshals, their impact enfeebled by the magnitude of the event.  When I was a youngin, my next door neighbor enlisted my attendance at a local parade where John Wayne was to be the grand marshal, and he was!
He sat on the back of a Cadillac (a big car, anyway) convertible and shook the hands of all the parade goers who approached the car while the marchers fumbled on.  He was gracious and fulfilled what a grand marshal should be: the exclamation point to a parade's relevance.    At the San Francisco event, I've observed Cyndi Lauper and Chaz Bono, among others, living out their grand marshal-ness, squeezed into tiny sportscars idling down Market Street and having no impact whatsoever.  A grand marshal, like the beauty queen or Santa Claus, should come at the end of the parade and preferably on a big float: this is IT folks, this is the end of the Gay Pride Parade,a big deal.  I'd like to be able to say, 'Remember, that was the year, it was Chaz Bono!"

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Poz Bottom Gets Porn Clerk's Load 20 Years Late

To all who e-mailed me asking what the hell was going on with my life, missing posts and going incommunicado on the world: I am OK, working my ass off on a job that requires commuting and looking after an elderly relation, and if I were to recount my sexual experiences during this Trump Year, it would read only like a blog that reviews escorts.  I am transitioning into a different lifestyle where vacations will become more important, and where I'll just have to learn better how to tie my fisting and fucking life to business travel and long weekends.  I'm new to this, but a quick sketch, so we'll see.

My opportune time for hooking up is mornings, and a nice experience was had with a top who I thought was 'semi-anonymous,' that is, through a members-only hookup site.  Except he wasn't that at all.  It turns out I had met him 20 years ago.  We didn't fuck then and the reason we didn't reveals how the bareback world was then: 1997...only reckless types were fucking raw.  It was about two years before Michael McKey, Hot Desert Knights and Paul Morris.  New HIV drug strategies might be changing lives, but it was generally believed that only crazy assed fuckers, with a death wish, barebacked.  It was still a scary time.

In 1997, I started sputtering gibberish at work and scared the hell out of everybody and was sent home.  I ended up in the hospital with some brain swelling and was told that it was serious.  I was in intensive care but modern medicine saved my life and advised me to take the AIDS test, and so my AIDS life began.

For three whole years I was afraid I'd catch a cold that my immune system couldn't handle and I would die.  But we moved on, albeit living it day by day.  I got immersed in porn, and in those days that meant going to the porno shop, renting videos to be viewed at home.  I spent a lot of time in the video stores on Polk and Castro, where the clerks were often engaged in some casual flirting.  One of them even called me up and invited me to dinner at the old Line Up restaurant on Harrison Street.
He was a nice guy, but I knew we wouldn't fuck as I had subscribed to the whole safe sex deal.  Hell, I didn't even need condoms.  I had become a strict celibate.  Bareback porn eventually changed all that, and more about that some other time...but around the turn of the century, barebacking was emerging as a niche gay lifestyle.  Porn was the catalyst, leading to websites, yahoo groups, sex parties, friendships.  It was still reckless...barebacking, that is...but at least I could be reckless with like-minded guys.  I was not alone.  I think all early barebackers felt like this.

Morning fucks are what I'm after, some days are better or easier than others.  A few months back, I hooked up with this young daddy who wanted to plow some ass on his way to work downtown.  It turned out to be the guy from the video store and yeah, he shot a nice wad of juice up my mantwat and then plowed it deep, deep.  He had a nice style.  Twenty years later and we are both still sexin'.
All of this is good.

I still don't know his status.  We never discussed it, neither twenty years ago nor more recently ...that kinda shit is just plain not sexy for casual engagements.  But all I can say, I get a nice, nice feeling when I think o write about this.

Sometimes moving forward can bring you back to where you started.

Monday, January 2, 2017

2016 Porn Video Perspective: Ryan Cummings & Mick Rock It

I'm glad that 2016 is over.  Trumpkov has emitted a foul odor that will linger on for a while, but he'll be gone sooner rather than later, and I'll just leave it at that...there's a lot of shit that's gonna hit that fan after Jan 20.

In the porn world we were spared the tragedies that marred 2015 when Cole Tucker and Gino Colbert made their final farewells and a couple of twink suicides and some mysterious departures poisoned the holiday season.  There was no high profile porn death in 2016 that I'm aware of, so if somebody knows otherwise, please correct me.  There was one quiet, extenuated and rather low key death: condom porn.  It is ironic that only a couple of years ago, we were talking about the future of bareback porn, and now it's condom porn that's endangered.  Well, as more websites and studios transition into bareback products, it's the future of condom porn that people might discuss, except nobody's interested.  Where does Miss ChiChi LaRue go from here?  Now that's an interesting question.

I do have my favorite bareback video of 2016, but it did occur to me that I really should broaden my perspective a bit.  After all, I haven't just ignored ChiChi's and other condom pornos, but I've also ignored the works of the sources that have moved into bareback, like Michael Lucas.  I can't limit my viewing to Treasure Island, or Knightbreeders, Raw Oreo or Black Swagga, and the machofuckers and asstretchers of he world, can I?  Oh hell, yes I can.  I now know I can.

I thought I should check out a Michael Lucas video just to make sure.  So I bought a copy of 'Whore for More' because of the enticing wrapper (however photoshopped, the Lucas marketing machine is second to none) and because Viktor Rom, a personal favorite, is in it.  You know, Michael Lucas makes a very good product at a very good price.  He casts beautiful, well-groomed men and puts them in enhancing settings.  The production values are the best in the business.  But there is something missing for discriminating consumers like me.  I found myself fast forwarding way too much on 'Whore for More.'  The bottom wasn't a whore; he was just a nice looking kid wanting to get fucked.  I ejected 'Whore' and inserted 'Fill'er Up' (by Treasure Island Media) and the instant I saw Eli Lewis arch his back in anticipation of black cum injections, I knew I wasn't prejudiced against Mr. Lucas; I just concluded that the slut gene is missing.  I either have it or you don't.  I won't be buying any more of his stuff for a while.

The best video of the year to my mind was 'Filling Ryan Cummings,' directed by Koloff and produced by BarebackRTMedia, and available through the bbrts website.  The hard dvd copies flew off the shelves of my local porn emporium and I feel lucky to have one.  I don't do mail order, unless absolutely necessary, as my readers already know.  One scene specifically stands out: Ryan's butt offering to Mick, a versatile number well-known to San Francisco poz tribal members of Grindr, and a contributor to Xtube videos.  It helps that Mick has a big obvious biohazard tattoo and Koloff positions everything for the best views.  Mick cums early and just keeps on going, and Ryan Cummings delivers as he always does, cumming multiple times himself.  Big black dick, cum, biohazard, poz.  There are many of us who get stiffies just thinking of a biohazard tat on a hung black stud, so here you are.  The scene was recorded at a local sex club, for those of you who are into that sort of environment.

Some other observations of the year: Antonio Biaggi, the greatest top of the era subtly fades doing his own thing and his website could be better, but here's wishing he releases some dvds for oldschoolers like me...Armond Rizzo, over-exposed? who gives a shit?...Cody Winter can be the hottest bottom of 2017 if he wants and tries...thank you Paul Morris for bringing stud Mr. Cali into the stable...a Ryan Cummings definitive gangbang was held off for another year...we're looking to see more of XL, Ray Diesel, Kyle Ferris, BamBam, Ray Dalton, Viktor Rom, Jay Frost, Ryan Cummings...and sorry that Rocco Steele retired. Here's lookin' forward to more leather, dick and bareback porn in 2017!