The Bitch in me...

So I wrote an email to a client this morning. When my boss - who reads all my out-going mail to ensure I don't cause international collapse - read it, he laughed. He wondered how it was that I hadn't been arrested or sued or murdered or given an award for being the most bitchy, snarky, biting letter writer of all time. He opted - wisely - to rewrite my email, so that the essence was still there, but the venom, bile, and hatred was not.

This has given me pause for thought. That and the fact that the general consensus of my last blog was that it was... well ... very mundane! Me? Mundane! I rebel at the thought! But I've been working so hard, mundane seems all I'm capable of after hours. Which seem to get longer as the weeks get shorter and the deadlines closer. Hell even my fencing instructor (a lovely Russian woman, made even more lovely with a sharp metal sword in her iron-like fist [who is I'm sure ex-KGB hiding out here but with a sword who's going to question her right?]) said:

"Your ankle! Its too looze. Titten up, ste'ab mi wid sord. Don't... neargh!" (At that word she sort of did a swan dive, if the swan was epileptic, having a fit, and had only one wing (and was possibly giving birth to an emu) attempting to emulate what I'd just done). Subsequent to me nearly breaking my legs as I tried to lunge with straight tight angles (not looze ones) I discovered Russian doesn't seem to differentiate ankles from wrists. Lunging with tight wrists makes sense. Ankles not so much. So even my instruktor feels I'm a bit limp after hours. I think... although she may just feel that I am a neargher and destined to impale myself upon my male opponents sword. Oh how I love the English language when coupled with my sexual preferences! Wasn't that so nicely set up? Well I thought so.

So the KGB and my readers feel I'm a bit limp in the blog... (snigger). Luckily my boyfriend doesn't think the same (cough, cough). Actually I had a wonderful experience with him just this evening. He popped around en route to some function or other and fell asleep on my lap - ah now before anyone thinks it: yes it's an expansive lap and several moderate sized individuals could in fact fall asleep on it, and possibly open a small pub with outside cafe and parking there. Anyway, so Apollo falls asleep on my lap and I feel, physically feel, him go limp. And no I was not holding his dick in my hand/mouth/other body part, I mean he relaxed. He let go and just dozed off. I felt very... humbled by it. Another human trusts me enough to fall asleep in my lap.

But I digress. OK so fine. This blog is in actual fact an attempt to regain popularity with the masses as a foul, disgusting journey into the pit of homosexual debauchery. But well perhaps within that dark den of degeneracy there are occasional moments where the leather clad sex warriors stop licking, sucking, and spanking one another, and just put the kettle on for a cupper whilst they wait for the lube to drain. I don't know. To be honest now that Apollo is insinuating himself into my everyday world, those huge concerns that used to plague me are ebbing a little. My concerns now are: did I put on that expensive scent he bought me? Are my teeth straight? How accessible is my fly...

In all honesty financially I'm a little worried. Things are all ticky boo elsewhere. Just there - AS USUAL. Apart from that I'm actually getting to a place where I can honestly say I am thoroughly enjoying this planet and all it has to offer. I want to experience more but I'm happy where I am right now. Is that such a bad thing? I'm learning to just live in the moment. Who knew I needed someone else to be there with me to find a place where I'm happy with me?

And so I look back to those various couples I've questioned, those romantic 'dullards' and I realize I'm the one who's a dullard. Achieving a place of existence without fret, without personal introspection to the Nth degree is in fact a great place. So long as there is still some form of personal accounting and questioning because I think that's always important. Apollo has got me to relax about who I am, to 'let out the crazy' one bit at a time, and realize - hey wanting to sleep with a Stormtrooper isn't so crazy...

I don't want to say it, but this is an open blog: What happens if Apollo and I break up? Will all this 'in the moment' shit shrivel and die? Will those letters I write get worse? Will I tear down the walls of nicety and simply sublimate myself into the inner darkness which boils inside me? Should I become like Batman, only to be called Fatman, and beat up bad guys with snarky, biting comments? (Sadly the post was taken by Barry Ronge some years ago, and in girth and pure venom I don't even come close.)

I don't know, and I don't want to know. I'm a 'in the moment' gay guy, at the moment. I won't piss on my own parade... unless the parade likes it, and they're hot, sexy, deviants in leather with a penchant for a quick cupper every once in a while...

Boyfriends, friends, boys, and Me

It's been a few days since my last post. And to be honest I'm not sure what exactly I wanted to say. Although it must be something, otherwise why am I here right? It could be one of a few things, so I'll work through them and see what takes my fancy.

Boyfriend - going well, I think. I know he's a little put out that I work so many hours, and so often on weekends. It's something that we'll either have to deal with, or something that will ultimately break the relationship. I can't and won't reduce my hours, and at the same time I can't expect him to be in a relationship with a 'forever never here' partner. For now things are going OK. Lets wait and see. I remain optimistic. Otherwise I think we're great. Really enjoy spending time with him, and being around him, and feel that he feels the same way.

Oh and I tried weed with him for the first time in my life the other day. I have to say: WHAT A LET DOWN. After years and years of living in Durban and hearing how most of the population smokes it at least infrequently and how great it is, all I found was that it made me horny ( luckily boyfriend was around) and then incredibly lethargic. I smoked some the other morning, and found that I could sing more freely in the car ( throat didn't hurt as much) but other than that... nothing. Now apparently the particular type he uses is called Cob and is supposed to be mild.

OK, so that's boyfriend, and drugs. What else?

Fencing? Oh Fencing is fun. I do find though that I don't like th idea of being alone. I prefer being part of a team. I find working solo a bit too... well a bit too solo. I like collaborating with others. Maybe it's so that I can shift the blame? I don't think so though. I like the team aspect, the working together, the thinking up of ideas together, the adaption of plans and so forth. So I don't think it's that. So I'm stopping after next week.

But fear not, because now that Leon is living with me up in JHB, we go to the gym regular...ishly. Running, jogging, stepping, cycling... it goes on and on. So health is getting better I think. Also the blood-pressure pills seem to be working a treat. Heart much more stable. In a couple weeks time I have to go back for the doctor to check on how things are going. I suspect they are going well.

Work? Work is nuts. I'm running with so many projects all at once I don't know if I'm coming or going. So I've decided to work on one project at a time. Even if it's all at the SAME time. Writing musicals, kids shows, documentaries, and corporates. Work has never been so good. It really feels like I'm moving in the right direction career wise.

Family? Well all good as far as I know. We all have our own lives to lead, and we're all doing it furiously.

Gosh, this is boring. I'm bored. A recap of my past couple of weeks. Sorry to have wasted your time. Although sometimes it's good to put things down, keep a check on things, and make an account of your existence. How's yours going?

Some cats like fish... some cats don't.

So I asked Apollo - Boyfriends name for blog purposes - why was it that he preferred to ... oh wait:

WARNING SEXUAL REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS

Now that that is out of the way, so I asked him why he liked to put his penis in a bottom and not into a vagina, (there that wasn't so bad was it?) and he had no answer. As I suspect most of you don't. Why do you find the shape of someones knees appealing? Or the fall of their breasts? The bridge of the nose turns you on? Maybe it's the smell? Perhaps it's the sound they make when they bend over. I don't know. What I do know is this: The answer to that question will, in my humble opinion, solve the entire worlds problems.

It will. I swear. And yes this blog is now a rambling where I prove my theory to begin with and then disprove it to myself later in a self indulgent exploration of my inner mess. Deal with it. Or don't. Whatever. OK so back to penis and bottom references.

Picture it: Howick 1994. A young 13 year old boy sees another boy and just wants to be accepted by him...no. We need to go back further. Durban 1845. An ox wagon slowly... wait too far. Try this: Camperdown 1987, a really young 6 year old sees a blonde haired boy, 8 years old. For some reason he really, really, wants to be liked by this blonde boy. The boy stands out. All that memory preserves is of images of his smile, his angular face, his bright blonde hair, and a desire to make him smile and approve of me.

Oh, shit. We can roll back even earlier to 1986. But I'm not sure that's relevant. Forgive me. I continue: One could argue that it is the inherent impulse of all humans to want to be given approval and acceptance by their peers. What makes some though stand out as being the 'main okes'? What is is that made me so desperate to impress this blonde haired fellow? Once he allowed me to play Rounders on his side. I was so proud. Knowing me I probably dropped the ball at a crucial moment. Anyway. After him came my best friend. That was later in 1991.

I wanted him to like me. I liked him. But with him, I wanted to see his penis. I still distinctly remember trying to get him naked by going for walks down to a local dam and getting so covered in mud that taking clothes off seemed normal. I got him down to his briefs once, but he wouldn't go further. That was 1992. After that I was obsessed with seeing penises. Anyones, but his in particular. In 1994 my focus was added to by the inclusion of a few more friends. Of my bunch of friends though, only some of them I harboured secret desires. Through the closeness of our friendships though, I can speak with alacrity here as none of this should come as a surprise to them.

Why though of my friends did I want to get naked with some, not with others? And why did I want to get naked with them in the first place? I discovered masturbation quite by chance in the bath one day. Then, like all boys, I couldn't get enough of it. But I wanted to do it with specific others. Why those others? What set them apart? Now I look at my relationship with my boyfriend. What is it that will turn this relationship into something I can say: I love you?

He has things that really attract me to him. I want to, and do...hehehehe... get naked with him. He has some of things that I am attracted to, he has some things I'm not attracted to. When he is near my I just want to hold him and be held by him. When he's away, I get pangs to be near him, but I sometimes get moments when I just want to be alone. Is this normal? If I understood what makes me like one thing, and not another I would be solved. I could quantify (and yes again I realize how this sounds, android alert) points and then make a rational decision.

If all humans understood the underlying wants, needs, desires we would be a much better place wouldn't we? So the boyfriend did actually have an answer. I lied. However his answer was at once solved my question and frustrated me even more: Some cats like tuna, and some don't. Some enjoy dry food, others don't. This is frustrating because it means on some level the wiring in our brains fix upon certain things before we are able to do anything about it.

And these become ingrained. Sure some can be changed but others seem locked down. If some cats don't eat tuna, it can't be because once their older brother hit them with a wet fish, and so psychologically they can't go near fish. It just means the poor bugger got it into his head that he just don't like fish. So I'm fucked. Thankfully. Sorry.. cough cough (did I mention Apollo and I really enjoy sex with one another? Eight times in one weekend, that's all I'm saying) .

I am stuck in a proverbial: BECAUSE IT SAYS SO ON THE BOX YOU DICK, DEAL WITH IT situation. That means I have to rely on those stupid emotional things. But they can get confused so easily. I have to hold back what my tongue says out of fear that it's just an emotional thing based on hormones pumping through my system. Isn't that all rather clumsy and chaotic? I mean how are we as humans supposed to function as a society if we're all holding back our true inner 'emotionals' for fear that our own hormones are simply trying to get themselves reproduced as offspring for the next generation? It's all a bit sloppy if you ask me.

So have you asked yourself recently: Why do you like someone? Or why do you like the bottom or the knee or the elbow, or in my case the side occipital orbit? (Flat piece above the eye, leading from the eyebrow to the ear)? I'm afraid the answer is simple: Because you do. Crap. So my whole blog is that when it comes to some things we just have to trust that 'we do because we are'. God we're doomed as a species. Start again I say!