The Threesome

What’s worse than not having a threesome? Having a beautiful baby that wants a threesome, but no third girl. Its like dangling a Crunchwrap Supreme in front of a stoner- a big no no. See, when a threesome isn’t in the picture (364 days/ year), its completely out of sight out of mind so you keep on living your life. Instead, when you have a short window to capitalize on the 3some (before you get caught slamming other babes or she finds out about your ‘reputation’) , its all thats on your mind. Every slampiece you see, you start thinking “is she down with girls?” or “am I going to be able to get my guy up? And if so, for how long?” After a few hours of this, you’ll reach an epiphany as I did today. The reality is that woman are beautiful and all human beings are attracted to women. All girls are attracted to other girls- its science. They are non-threatening, sensual and beautiful- what more do we need? Now, the trick is bringing out this lust for women in your girl.. thats a code that varies from babe to babe, but is easily cracked. Once this is done, your girl will be the one to find a beautiful lady she has chemistry with, then you’re good to go. You are the king of fuck mountain, time to piss excellence.

Forbidden love

Behind the clear sliding door
within the shower
my lover stood before me
beneath the falling droplets
of a man made waterfall
the warm flowing water
coursing down our bodies
cleaned and refreshed
even as it washed away
the scent of forbidden love
soothed our skin
cooled our burning brows
though unable to put out entirely
nor dampen the flames
of the slumbering passions
which once again burst forth
as we looked into each others eyes
so that once again right there
beneath the flowing water
once more did I make her mine
by taking her in the shower

mental health day #2

in order to get my personal life off the internet, i made a purchase.

this way you dont have to bear me harping on how miserable i am!
I now have some good ideas for what i can do now….. well, actually, now i can focus on trying to think of something new to do here.

i have an idea which i am going to give a shot at doing tomorrow.
so… STAY TUNED!

In the meantime, I have a funny story:

Today I was very sad. I decided to go for a walk with a purpose. That purpose being the purchase of a new journal (above image)! I sort of hurried out of the house and when I reached Borders HQ, I realized that I was still in my pajamas! I was so upset by this since everyone seemed to have pulled out their best peacoats, cotton tights, and riding boots to do whatever they do downtown. In my self conciousness ducked across the street into Urban Outfitters and searched desperately for something presentable to wear. Silly me bought a tiny dress (it was on sale! *cha-ching*). So, I make my purchase, change in the men’s bathroom at Starbucks (oops), and head home. I’m maybe four blocks from my house and realize how cold it really is. I duck into St. Vincent de Paul to see whats up. And, guess what?! Sweaters Galore! Omigosh! Let me tell you, I love sweaters. Of course, I’m broke so, I choose one and a scarf and this fluffy blue and white thinger and duck out. After a nice afternoon of extreme consumerism, I head home feeling at peace with myself.

I may be an emotional shopper, but not in the way that you feel depressed after you make a purchase and just want to return it all but you can’t it just makes everything worse. No. I made my purchase and I know in my heart that what I got is an asset to anyone’s closet and in this case, mine!

I learned another strange thing about myself, well, maybe not strange. But, it’s good to know! The way I look affects the way I feel. I need to start taking better care of myself and I’ll feel better.

I am turning over a new leaf. I can first take care of myself and then I can try to BEGIN taking care of everything else I so easily destroyed!

fifty-seven

ЛЕТО

ДЖУН

By Sunday June the seventh nature came to life and the sun grew ever brighter, the vegetable gardens in the city greener and yet all this served only to bring back Yalena’s grief for Edith and hopeless guilt.  Her emotions had frozen in winter and were now thawing.  But she allowed herself to feel fully the pain and despair.  She deserved this after all.  Penance. Perhaps in some way Edith knows this? Yalena closed her eyes and saw her face, she smiled, she smiled, my baby smiled.  And behind her, a hundred thousand ghostly children watch over the desolate mothers of Leningrad.

Joseph had become more withdrawn and seethed with something, an inner anger, a guilt, a regret. Yalena asked if it was Irina.

-No, he said, then after taking a sip of his tea, -I admit I do feel saddened by her death, but it is you I love, if that is what you are asking.

-No that’s not what I’m asking Joseph.  I am asking if you, you are well?

-No. No, I’m not.

-And can I do anything to help?

-I will work it out.

-I’m here, she said.

As they took their places Katya Mattus was flirting with Petrov, he laughed and she laughed, reaching out and laying her hand on his forearm. Yalena realised sexuality was returning to the city.  Hers had been resurrected by lying in bed with Joseph, lust had slowly awoken from its frozen slumber.  She watched the players; men’s eyes followed women as they passed.  This simple thing made her smile and she played briskly.

Rehearsals had grown longer with the days and it was quite late when they got home to find Alexei with a girl and Stasia smiling over their heads.  The girl had long curly blonde hair and white skin lightly sprinkled with freckles, her breasts were nubile and her eyes bright as clear water.  Aleksei couldn’t take his eyes off her.

-We’ve eaten, said Stasia indicating two meals set out on the table.

Joseph and Yalena sat and Stasia put two mugs of coffee beside them.

-Coffee? Said Joseph.

-Smells nice, said Yalena, her nose hovering over the cup.

-Veronika brought it.

-Thank you Veronica, said Joseph.

-So, introduce us, said Yalena.

-This is Veronika, said Aleksei.

Veronika smiled at each of them in turn.  So charming. Absolutely charming.

So, where did you two meet? asked Yalena, raising her eyes to Stasia.

-We are Pioneers, Veronika said and her voice was as sweet as a flute.

-And we haven’t met you before?

-She was on the Petersburg side, said Aleksei, until…

-My family, she said and stopped,  -I have moved here to my father’s sister.

-Ah, said Yalena.

Joseph broke the silence that followed.

-So, Veronika, what have you been doing during the war?

-I sat on our roof, watching.

All the time?

Most nights. Up there like a cat.

-A cat?

-But if I was a cat I wouldn’t be here would I?  All the cats have been eaten.

-You spent the whole year on the roof?

Veronika spoke excitedly, through nerves, without pause.

-The roof was my post.  I stayed at my post.  Night after night.  Read poetry in the moonlight.  Pushkin, Byron, Achmatova.(she said Achmatova’s name quietly)   It was so still I could hear my own heart beating.  Now and then a car would move in the streets. If I leaned out I felt like I was flying over the city.  Over roof and spire.  Or the sky was a sea where giant grey whales swam, that’s what the blimps looked like.

She stopped abruptly feeling she’d gone too far into her imagination. Aleksei stepped in to save her.

-She is a dancer but she wants to be a poet.

A poet? Yalena writes poetry, said Stasia.

-Do you?

-Sometimes, said Yalena.

-I should like to read it.

-Someday, said Yalena, -Thank you for the coffee.

-We’ve got cabbages to take care of, said Aleksei and led Veronika out.

-Well, said Yalena.

Well indeed, said Stasia.

Joseph finished his meal and left the room with a nod.  Yalena took the plates to the sink and emptied some water from a bucket.

-My period has started again, said Stasia.

No.

-I have.

-Not me but I have felt, you know.

I know, said Stasia, -I know. I have heard.

Yalena blushed.

-You are blushing, said Stasia.

-Yes, I am.

They laughed and when the laughter tapered off Stasia’s thoughts went to Viktor and Yalena thought how futile love making was in these tragic circumstances.

On Thursday June the eleventh Anna Petrovna-Ostroumova-Lebedeva, stood in the bathroom thinking. She had been taken to The Party Committee and shown a makeshift album that had been sent to the women of Leningrad from Scotland.  She was asked if she would take on the project of a reply album and said she would if she could work at home on her favourite Birchwood table.

Repeated bombings followed by artillery attacks followed by incendiary bombs had been the pattern of recent days and on the thirteenth Vera Milyutina was finishing a sketch she had begun that morning inside the Hermitage.  It was a stark drawing of a shattered window. The inner frames were swung into the room, the glass miraculously intact while the outer window, a shattering of ice-like shards, framed the scaffold bound Alexander Column. Inside, rubble lay scattered by the window, the frames of paintings leaned against the wall and, hanging from a rail, two walking sticks. Everything spoke of war and injury, except, to the right where a soot covered a display case stood intact.

The door, because the building had tilted slightly, hung open so it was only when it swung wide she turned to see Andrei Andreyevich Bartashevich.

-Vera.

-Andrei!

-Do you have the strength to take part in an urgent and important task?

-I have some strength, yes, she said, -Some.

-This task would see you representing the women who are defending Leningrad.

-In what way?  She asked and he closed the door.

On Sunday the fourteenth of June rehearsals were filled with talk about the Seventh.  Rumour was they would be performing at the end of July or early August.  That meant they would have to begin work on it soon.

-Stasia, it looks like we will be playing Shostakovich.

-When?

-Early August, said Joseph.

-Aren’t you excited?  The first to play it in Leningrad?

-Yes, I suppose I am, said Joseph.

-And Britain has signed a twenty year peace treaty with Russia, said Stasia, pointing at the Pravda on the table, ¾Maybe the British will send weapons.  Troops even?

Yalena thought of the times to come when she would walk through the shimmering leaves on the lindens, a summer breeze in her hair, then, the noxious smell of spent explosives tugged her back.

-And, said Stasia, -They are talking of the Americans coming into the war.

-Joe won’t let one American set foot on Russian soil, said Joseph, astonishing himself.

It says it here, said Stasia, hiding her surprise at Joseph’s open criticism of Stalin.

-He’ll take the weapons, the money, but he won’t let them in.  Not to Leningrad.

-Maybe you’re right said Stasia,  Maybe we’re on our own. Women shelled by men, and Stalin in his…

Four sharp raps on the door and Yalena’s heart leapt.  The three looked at each other.  Was someone listening?  Can it happen so quickly?  Joseph opened up and two well dressed, well fed men walked past concentrating on the women.

-Stasia Petrovna Paramonova? Said the smallest, who had eyes like a cat.

February rushed back to her. It had taken time, but that’s what The Party had on their side, time.  Yalena took a step but Stasia moved in front.

-I am she, said Stasia.

-You are Stasia Petrovna Paramonova?

-Yes.

-The artist?

-I used to be an artist, she said, now confused and afraid.

-You used to live at twenty-five Bolshaya Konyushennaya

Yes.

-And you moved here January twenty-seven, twenty-eight?

-Yes, our building was bombed, she said, turning her head to Yalena and moving her features into a question. How do they know the date we moved here?  Do they know everything?  Do they actually know everything?

-You are to report here in the morning, said the tallest one who had a scar crossing both lips, handing her a piece of paper, ¾You will be given extra rations.

They handed her a pass and turned to leave before she could formulate any questions.

-Take any artist materials you have to that address.

Then they were gone.  The three looked at each other with genuine open mouths. They listened to the footfalls leave the building and Joseph stood a metre from the window watching them get into a large black car which melted into the city.

-They’re gone, he said.

Stasia read the address.

-Ten Academician Lebedev Street.  That’s in the Vyborg district isn’t it?

Joseph shrugged.

-Why, said Yalena, pausing between questions, -Who?  What is this about?

Stasia studied the materials.

Anna Ostroumova, she suddenly said, -The artist. Anna Petrovna-Ostroumova-Lebedeva!

The puzzle dissolved into a new one.

-And if it is her, why? Asked Yalena.

Stasia sat down.  Into night they talked.  Perhaps Anna Ostroumova needed assistance?

-Remember the crowds who turned up at Radio House demanding music? The Party, perhaps they’ve noticed this, perhaps they are to provide art for the citizens, as a way to save us.

-Art never saved anyone, Yalena, -The only thing that ever saved anyone was someone.  Usually themselves.

-Or savagery, said Joseph.

-Pardon?

-Savagery, others have been saved by their own brutality.

They thought about this truth for a moment.

-That’s right, said Stasia, -He’s right, it’s those in the middle, those who won’t stoop so low and can’t heighten their passion, it’s those who die.

As they discussed Stasia’s task the light faded and came up again without darkness.  They came to the conclusion that these two men would have taken her away if it was something bad.

-It must be good,  said Stasia, -It has to be something good, yes it is something good.  I can feel it in my bones.

-You’d better get some sleep, Yalena said and when she woke Stasia was gone.

The Tracksuit Mafia!

What do you get when 4 assholes dressed alike in tracksuits? That’s right, you get the #tracksuit mafia. An idea months in the making… I would have posted this yesterday, but there were issues.[1] Where do I begin? Well, I guess a good old fashion time line is in order.[2]

The Tracksuit Mafia...

• Made a trip to Chocolate bears house and picked up a bottle of Jack, Bushmills, Vodka, 2 Jagers, a Red Bull, and a pimp cup.

Pimp Cup in Hand... Yes that went everywhere with us.

• Back to the Honey Comb Hideout for an hour long pre-game.

Chocolate Bear "thugged out" with Winston

• Crew shows up and nick-names were picked. I was Micky 4 knuckles.[3]
• The power hour concludes and we roll to our normal spot where we met up with some friends. Our bar tab was dutifully named “the guido’s” tab.

Gotta love your "friends"

• We did not pay for that tab… someone we met there did, cause they thought we were awesome.[4] Also, there were some really weird guys trying to convince Chocolate Bear he needed to fight in the MMA. It was weird.

Guy that picked up our tab

• We decided we needed to go to the local strip club, because, well, where else do 4 guys in tracksuits go? On the way there, we were cut off by some drunk asshole that called the big guy a “nigger”. Now, usually there would have been violence in this situation[5] but there was a cop right next to us with some other drunk asshole pulled over. This set the tone for the rest of the night.
• Hit the strip club hard! They were also having a costume contest, which we were convinced we would win… Not really, especially when strippers entered. Damn. We did get on stage and saunter around though. At is at this point where we decided to use fake accents, not on the strippers, but everyone else around us. When asked about my costume, I used the line “sorry, my English, no, so good”. I had several people yelling the same thing they originally said and I did not laugh, instead I went with, “oh, kusstume? Oh da, kusstume! Me gangsta…Bang..Bang, while making a gun from my fingers. It was classic, because they bought into my bullshit.
• Rolled out of the strip club and this is where is gets a bit, um, fuzzy.

These were the shots, but I have no idea where we were...

• I think we might have stopped off for Jager shots, but I really can’t be certain it was that night. We did end up in a more upscale neighborhood and at this one bar/club where a lot of cougar hunting is done. I decided Jimbo needed to bag himself a couger. Though, every time we go there the bouncer gives us a hard time about the way we are dressed. I am all, “come on bro, tracksuits! You are required by law to let us in.” He did and he shouldn’t have. We walked in and the place was dead. Slammed a single drink and bailed. On the way out I said something to the effect of I hate you or wtf. The doorman just laughed at us. Rightfully so.
• As we are rolling down the street going to meet up with our friend, a truck in front of us was screwing around and it pissed off Chocolate Bear (CB), so he honked the horn.[6] The guy in front of us got out of the truck and so did CB. Me, J, and Jimbo were still in the back watching, as CB can handle himself…except, 3 other dudes got out and approached. So, the 3 of us in the back got out and we were confronted by an entire family reunion. Seriously, 3 cars were behind us and 2 cars in the 7-11 parking lot, equallying 30 about 30 dudes to the 4 of us. By this point I had conceded that I was going to get punched in the face.[7] It was as if the gangs of New York was remade and everyone was wearing Fubu.

Imagine this scene, only in Fubu.

• Somehow, we managed to get out unscathed. There was people yelling 5-0 and it might have helped. Regardless, it was something that I never thought would happen. I am so glad nothing went down, cause that’s the kind of shit that ends up on the news.
• We finally made it to our friend’s bar. I walked in and ordered a beer, only to be denied, because we got there right at two.
• Things went fuzzy again and food was involved at some point. It was pretty rough.
• Woke up to see a buffet from Krystals had been consumed and noticed several bottles of Jager empty along with 100’s of beer bottles. Insane.
• Watched the Florida Gators kick the shit out of Georgia!
• Started it all over again. My costume started out as the guy who was too hung over to make a costume, then I switched to being a “transformer.” I start out as a regular guy, then by the end of the night, I am a drunk asshole.

Jimbo as Ashe

Ahh, choices...To be good or to be bad.

When you try to smoke celery, you know you have had too much to drink.

Doing what he does best

And I am done...

That is the story of this last weekend. Thank you…

[1] The issue was I was still hung over on Monday and it was vicious.

 

[2] Sorry, I really wanted to try something different, but I am too challenged today.

[3] Think Franky 4 fingers, but more Irish.

[4] Umm, cause we are awesome!

[5] All of us would have gotten out of the car and kicked his ass.

[6] Now, in most situations, the next series of events would have gone way different.

[7] I am pretty, but I can take a punch or two when needed.

i think im pullin back now..

the one month rule is now one more

before i was all happy happy joy joy about me and “daddy” but at this point im not really feeling him like i was b4. idk if its cause i havent been taking my meds and when i dont take them i get hella moody or what but i do know tat i dont feel the same about him today as i did yesturday.

when it come to sex i’m not going to make him wait a month anymore im just going to have him wait until im good and ready and the way it seems that might b alot sooner then he thinks lol. but i feel like saying a month is setting my self up like what if i wait that month and im still not ready to have sex with this person. and them what if i say a month and then its only 1 week not i got a nigga in my ear talking about “i thought it was going to be a month i knew you couldnt wait” yea see i dont have time for that kind of shit.

smh i hate hate hate when someone calles me in the middle of my DAMN writeing it always fucks up my thoughts. this other nigga aka “wana be daddy” cause hes one of daddys firends that are trying to get on gone call me [mind you its 2:21am] talking about what are u doing where are u at. im like nigga really, really wwoommpp. talking bout how we should have kicked it today and that i never hit him up and that “we are just friends on that corny shit” im like why it gotta be corny. he was like “cause it is you know what im about” um can you say womp cause i sure can. idk why niggas think that just cause they are straight up with u, u will be ok and be ready to fuck and the drop of a time and the fact that he’s not cute to me is not helping him. daddy on the other hand is. yea im going to need “wana be daddy” to give up and realize that im talking to daddy and understand that me and him are going to have to just be friends and thats it. but because we live in 2009 thats not going to happen that for i will be talking about his dumb ass again very soon

anywho bk to the topic at hand i just had to get that shit out real quick. so as of now i have no “month” rule when it comes to sex but what i DO have is a when im ready rule. if im not ready they are just going to have to wait this way im not like ok well u gotta wait a month like its a damn test, this way its just well im not ready to have sex with u right now so we just gone have to wait until im ready and i think that guys will understand that awhole lot better then me being like they gotta wait a damn month. cause with the month they are counting down the days so this way it will be just a suprise and everything should go alot smoother… hmmm i think i have a new topic for naybesa.com and its going to be about sex and making a guy wait. i will probably do that later on today.

what else, mmmmmmm i think thats about it for now but when it comes to me and daddy i guess im just going to have to wait and see because to tell the truth i dont think im ready to settle down and have a real realationship again. ive gotten so damn used to just doing me that i dont want to have restricitions anymore. but because its getting cold out its nice to have someone to be with you when its cold out. so we will see what happeneds tomorrow.

**BESAS**

Straight Pride Weekend...

Dan Savage on how Halloween has sort of become ‘Pride’ for us straight folks:

I’m often asked—confronted—about gay pride parades when I speak at colleges and universities. Usually it’s a conservative student, typically someone who isn’t happy about my being invited to campus in the first place. We gay people like to pretend that we’re all about love and marriage, the conservative student will insist, but look at your pride parades! Look at those guys in assless chaps and all those bare-chested lesbians dancing! Just look! The exchange almost always ends with this:

Conservative student: “Straight people don’t flaunt our sexuality like that. We don’t have straight ‘pride’ parades.”

Me: “You should.”

…

You made a good choice, straight people, a better one than the booze companies were trying to make for you. Whereas the pride parade is now the big public celebration of queer sexuality with all its squalor and glamour, Halloween is now the big public celebration of straight sexuality, of heterosexual desire, every bit—tit?—as squalid and glamorous.

We don’t resent you for taking Halloween as your own. We know what it’s like to keep your sexuality under wraps, to keep it concealed, to be on your guard and under control at all times. While you don’t suffer anywhere near the kind of repression we did (and in many times and places still do), straight people are sexually repressed, too. You move through life thinking about sex, constantly but keenly aware that social convention requires you to act as if sex were the last thing on your mind. Exhausting, isn’t it? It makes you long for moments when you can let it all hang out, when you can violate the social taboos you honor most of the rest of time, when you can be the piece of meat you are and treat other people like the pieces of meat they are.

It’s that kind of pressure—pressure to conform and maintain—that makes you want to pull on a pair of assless chaps and march down the street, the kind of pressure that cries out for some form of organized mass release. It’s the kind of pressure that a pride parade—straight or gay, Mardi Gras or Halloween—can release.

The post’s title, while clearly a nod to Dan Savage’s feature (I encourage you to read the entire thing) is also a nod to my gay and lesbian peers who will be celebrating Pride this weekend.

Having been in the thick of a few Pride parades (including an epic one at Southern Decadence in New Orleans I’ll discuss in a bit) I can tell you first hand, the gays know how to throw one hell of a party.

But I didn’t always feel this way.

When I attended Southern Decadence that year, I was a budding deviant: growing more accepting of my appreciation for conventionally ‘feminine’ aesthetics (corsets, makeup and knee high boots) I was excited to finally be in an environment where I could look like a character out of Rocky Horror Picture Show without anyone batting an eyelash.

And for that, my experience there was incredible; to be appreciated and embraced for my queer proclivities, as opposed to being sneered at and heckled (which happened while we were on the way) was an amazing feeling.

But at the time, the unabashed sexuality of the entire scene caught me completely off guard. Sure, I had done the whole Spring Break and Mardi Gras ’show us your tits’ thing but to see a traveling, nurse themed, gloryhole set up, I can admit, as a young straight… I just wasn’t ready for it.

In fact… I was genuinely offended by it.

My argument was similar to the conservative student Dan Savage used in his feature…

“Straight people would never do or could even get away with something like this,” I mused angrily (and stupidly) to my best friend later that day.

Smarter, more mature and more of a deviant than I ever anticipated three years ago, I say the same thing Dan does… we should.

While the little Goth kid in me cries a bit at what mainstream culture has turned Halloween into, it delights me that otherwise upstanding straights across the country have used the holiday as an excuse to indulge their carnal and sexual impulses.

As ‘deviant’ as I am being poly, being vociferously sex positive and being relatively gender fluid (at least from an aesthetic standpoint) I will never and my fellow straights will never, face the sort of social adversity gay people have and continue to face.

But we face various pressures of sexual repression in our own right, particularly as we get older. The whimsical spirit of Halloween is the perfect environment for us to get drunk and engage in a delicious poor decision or two (just remember… safer sex practices are your friend).

I always have a good laugh at those people who groan every year about how Halloween just gives woman an excuse to dress (and subsequently behave) ’slutty.’

To which I respond… and?

Not that I believe anyone needs an excuse to be (ethically) slutty but if Halloween gives an otherwise buttoned up woman an opportunity to loosen up a bit, if only for a day or a weekend, why should she deny herself?

Dan Savage suggested it and now I do too… let’s get some Pride of our own this Halloween straight people.

This will be your last chance at decadence and self-indulgence before you have to suffer fools family gladly for Thanksgiving and Christmas (I’ll have to play polite with my family that day before eating Chinese food and watching movies with my partner like a good Jew) and you should take full advantage of it.