Saturday Night

It's Saturday night and there is a sense of anticlimax, cos I made out last night, seriously big time.

This deflated feeling is exacerbated by it being 'Sleaze Ball' tonight - the second most gritty all-night dance party on the Sydney gay calendar. The most is 'Inquisition' - 'Mardi Gras' is at the other end of the spectrum. Links are for interested non-local persons.

But back to last night's crotch-oriented events. One way of circumnavigating round any post-good-sex gloom can be to re-live the experience. So ... it had all the athletics you could want, and I (finally) came but with a lot less bang than I wished for. Waited too long between sex! Super-hopeless planning. Four days-ish for me is for maximum big effect. How bout you guys? Actually, re-living this is boring ... .

I did get Ang Lee's 'Brokeback Mountain' out from the local video store. A great great movie - I knew it was good but didn't expect more. It is not obvious, or trite. Nothing is gratuitous - all things develop the main themes of the piece. Everything in the right balance - nothing pushed too hard or done heavy-handedly. Beautifully shot, as was 'Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon'. And the film gathers to an understated but heart-wrenching end.

Anyway, keeping to the theme of the movie going:

Julian Hans - 'Dieux du Stade'

Having recently strayed and cheated on the divine blonds (you remember my 'Fetish for Latins' post), I was snapped back to reality, browsing through the 'Dieux de Stade' 2005 calendar, a mostly nude photographic essay of the French rugby team.

My shame was made most acute by the luminous trancendant beauty of Julian Hans (below).

























He doesn't get ya cock immediately hard and throbbing and dribbling pre-cum. I think it's cos he's an example of the first half of the old dichotomy of sacred and profane love. You just want to kiss him - a lot. And cuddle ... and eventually you might blow.





But the pic of his massive firm butt and thighs (no jelly - he probably plays the game a squillion hours a week) does in fact get some action happening between my legs. I guess I am only speaking for myself here. Or maybe not - what do you think?

Fetish for Latins - Cheating on Blonds

My first boyfriend (the right word for school) was Sicilian. We were best friends but had sex too, though the two aspects were really only connected for me. He was straight (maybe - probably) but horny enough to be pursuaded bout once a week.

So I've always had a hankering for latin guys - you know the theory, your first one sets a pattern. And this generalized to all olive-skinned, dark-eyed blokes - so arabs, asians, ... . Where do the blonds fit in? P. set another parallel trend - 'm sexually omnivorous and inclusive!

Here's my tribute, then, to him and them and J., my total dream man:

Summer Delights: Hairy Muscular Legs

In Sydney, summer is coming on - in the early 30's over the last few days. You might have read/seen something about the bushfires, particularly likely this year with the extreme drought conditions here. Last year, I could at times smell the smoke from burning gum leaves in our place, which is only about 1 km from the city centre.

Spring pumps the hormones round ya body, usually ending up between ya legs. Now here's the point - with the rise in temperature, blokes go into shorts and hot legs rage out everywhere. Ya gaydar blips extra hard when a good pair flashes across the screen, and ya position ya-self for the close up, for example (thanks to 'Miami Feet'):


Ya heart is pumping and ya hover, hoping ya can turn this into a long sweaty session ... . Well, you know your usual ending.

For what it's worth (nothing!), I'm more often than not after stocky hairy muscular legs overlaid with that layer of fat that makes them fleshy. And suffer the tortures of the damned when a guy with a great bod goes into shorts and reveals ... chicken legs!

Which brings up a whole lotta questions. Do you like his legs hairy or smooth, tanned or natural (pale - can be good if they are dense with back hairy, slurp), muscular or slim, round ya neck or not (sorry, a slip of the keyboard)?

Okay, here's a selection that I hope covers everyone:












And finishing with a couple of classics (the second from Herb Ritts):

Robert Maplethorpe - Photography and the Gay Sensibility

I was looking through a book of Robert Maplethorpe's photographs today and reminded of just how beautiful the compositions were, on an immediate sensory level. Whatever the content, there is the same elegance and balance in design, the dramatic use of light and shadow, and the clarity and precision of composition. These pervasive qualities give the family resemblance of a really individual vision. And what really gets me in, that gay sensibility that turns on my gaydar, full.

BUT, I've also have this nagging suspicion of these formal qualities being a bit self-consciously managed. Are the photos too glossy and slick? Is the symmetry too obvious? There is a sense of great advertising design. High-lighted by them harking back to a by-gone era: 'Vanity Fair' or 'Life Magagine' of the 50's and 60's. Of course, this is also the point.

There are the still lives:


And the 'society portraits':


Love Louise Bourgeois (French-born American Abstract Expressionist Sculptor) looking a tad bemused by that BIG BIG COCK and BALLS breakfast (a baguette).

And of course there are the hot blokes:








And those where you do a double-take:

And finally the ones that 'scare the horses' - that got everyone (well, maybe not everyone) so uptight at that New York show: