Guess I'll Just Eat Worms

Here and I think it was about me complaining a lot, but I'm not sure any more. Right now, all I can think of is that I'm kinda pissed that my friend Angela postponed brunch for fifteen minutes which means that even though I was running on time, now I'll write this, lay around, and then be an extra fifteen minutes late. It also forced me to write something here. Hmmmm. . .Should I get stoned right now?

OH, something really funny happened. I should totally put my foot in my mouth, but why should I start now? Remember when I was talking about that porn star cruise and how it kinda sucked? Well, now you can read all about it. I feel like such an asshole!
Kindly read the comments. Ouch. Hope I didn't burn any bridges. Damn. Pretty soon it's gonna be me, and me. Way of the Samurai.

Have I mentioned I'm broke? There I go complaining again. . .

Did I tell y'all lately that breakups are really hard? Oh wait, that COULD be constituted as complaining.

OK, well, I'm gonna have brunch now. Have I mentioned that I'm getting mildly obsessed with straight porn lately? More on that later.

OK, This May Be Bitchy

but if y'all want to e-mail me about a blog related topic, please just post a comment rather than e-mailing it to me. This goes to all my friends too. What ends up happening is me writing the same shit over and over again.

And on another, less bitchy (ha ha ha) tangent: breakups suck. I'm heartbroken, and it sucks. If only I could hate him like I have all the others. . .

You Ever Wake Up Like You Just Did Lots of Smack?

And I wouldn't even know what that's like, and that's how I feel. I can relate it closest to when I take too much Vicodin, Norco, Tylenol w/ Codeine, etc. and wake up the next day feeling like, "Wait a minute, what goes up must come down and I guess that's why I feel like sick shit." That's how I feel right now.

I slept on my couch last night to let my girlfriend and her boyfriend fuck in my bed. The sheets had been clean until the night before (I had changed my fuck sheets so that she wouldn't have to sleep on them, but then she hasn't been staying at my place, and I got REALLY lucky the other night) but were filthy. I was going to change them again but then realized she's probably a shooter and pussy excretions apparently are worse for sheets than cum.

I think my problem is that I like my sheets chocolate brown, slate grey, dark burgundy. . .it's like towels--I love white towels and white sheets, don't get me wrong, but I just can't do for myself. Can't do it. Can't. And then every bit of cum just glows on them and threatens to bleach them out. And it's not like I sleep on anything less than 350 thread count. I'm getting used to combed Egyptian cotton but really I still prefer pima cotton, I don't give a shit what anyone else says.

Then, you throw in lube stains (I can't help it if I like silicone-based more and that's the shit that stains) and the odd poppers spill here and there, and my sheets are looking real ghetto. One last word, Calvin Klein Home bedding--total ripoff.

Who wants to go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond with me today?

Honestly

Right now I really want to write something, but I know that I'm getting picked up at should be here by now and I'm just writing this because I didn't have time earlier due to a houseguest so I'm trying really hard to rack my brain trying to write something right now so I thought I would just write about that but these tricks can only be undertaken every so often so I should really be saving them for when my life actually is boring and there's nothing to write about versus being too lazy to edit down what has happened since I've last been typing this shit.

I will say that the haircut I got in San Francisco sucked and I'm going to have to get it fixed by my hairdresser here in New York (I just blew it out and it looks kinda funny, and not in a good way. I got the haircut three weeks ago and by this time Richard's haircuts look better than they did when he first cut it, instead I once again look like an old lady with a set hairdo).

And on another note, I've had pretty amazing sex two days in a row, and it's real nice. I'm actually in a better mood, and my skin looks better (or maybe it was my $50 tanning session and no it wasn't spray on OMG I totally forgot! ! !)

SO, I FINALLY JUST REMEMBERED THIS FUNNY THING THAT HAPPENED TO ME(and my friends aren't here to pick me up yet so I must write on. . .the powers of writing about nothing!)--I went to this tanning place next to my gym the other day. I already have a tanning package over at another place, with a low-pressure stand-up bed, but in SF I had a high-pressure tan session and it was amazing. I also had one in Bakersfield, CA after I got back from Hawaii and I swear to god it was the darkest I've ever been. Anyways, so they have this bed that's $59 a session, but the package was buy five get two free get three free today as a thanks for joining and you get ten percent off for working out at crunch so after deliberation I decided to go for it (and also I had a date with a very hot very sexy mixed black/native american/irish man last night and didn't want people to look at us funny ha ha ha oh I know that's terrible) and I invested the most money I've ever spent in my life all in one big tanning shebang so as I'm signing my C/C slip I see a bottle of tanning shit that has a name on it, "Corey Feldman." I chuckle, think it's a joke, and ask the lady if it's for real. She kinda tells me to shush and says "He's right there behind you."

WHOA! ! ! I don't know about you, but that's a whole lotta dreamboat Cory/Corey action goin' on over there at California Tans. Fuck man, my dirty little tanning secret is out, and Corey Feldman is plastered all over it.

Going Postal

I DJd last night, got home around 3, was half-heartedly looking for action, but I knew where my heart lay: the new Harry Potter. You see, I get mildly obsessed with books when I'm reading them. It never takes me weeks to finish them. Instead, I go nuts, think I'm one of the characters (Harry and I do have a lot in common) and prioritize the book above and beyond everything else. So, at 3am last night, I quickly finished up the last 150 or so pages. I woke up with a hangover too, which was a little annoying, but more on that later.

There was a doorbell ring around 1130. In my slumber, knowing I was the only one home and that it could be my girlfriend that is staying with me right now, I threw some shorts on and went to the door. Dogs all barking crazy and shit. Not too happy about it. No one is there. I don't want to say anything too racially offensive, but I think we're all familiar with the term used to describe, um, ringing someone's doorbell without having any intention of being in front of the door when they open it. I came outside, called out "Hello" a couple times, was pissed, went back to bed.

I'd say, oh, enough time later for me to close my eyes and start to drift off to sleep, the doorbell rings again. By now, I'm pissed. I grab the same shorts, buckle the belt (remember this for later), and go to the door. It's the mail lady. With a parcel. For the next house over. I start muttering something bitchy about how when you ring someone's doorbell you wait for them to answer and probably said some real cunty things. I'm not really a morning person, and fuck, I was up late reading Harry Potter. Doesn't she know that. She walks away, I slam the door, and then I hear her exclaim "ASSHOLE" from the window. I get offended by this, which is funny because I was being an asshole, come back outside, and start going off, like did you call me an asshole did I hear you right I'm sorry last time I checked an asshole was someone who [knocks and runs] and then she turns to me, looks down, and says, "Your dick is hanging out of your pants. Why don't you put it back in? That's nasty. ASSHOLE!"

Hiatus

As some of you may have noticed, I haven't been writing here very often lately. My trip to SF took a bit of a toll on me and I have wanted to shun the sex industry ever since. However, since I'm actually starting to get somewhere with it and I've come this far, I guess I should stick with it.

Basically, the movie we shot was starring me as the only bottom in the movie, but getting back to the plot, the only bottom in the ID Lube Warehouse. I get plowed by everyone, basically. It was pretty nasty. Kinda hardcore. Mildly humiliating. It was supposed to emulate straight gang bang movies where the guys just use the girl and you can kinda tell the girl is freaking out and not enjoying herself, really being used. Not stuff to write home to mother about. I choked on lots of cock, almost hurled probably 20 times, and that was only the first day. Whatever gag reflex I had has been knocked out of the way, literally. It was kinda hot, but after four days of it, it was starting to wear. I had bruises on my knees, my shins, my ankles, a slap mark on my ass, etc.

My self-esteem was shot down quite a bit during the whole movie. Before I threw a diva temper tantrum when I found out I was being forced to cut my hair (I understand it was better for the character to look more conventional now) for the movie but after I found out I had to share a room, the director of the movie didn't even recognize me, and throughout the shoot, he said things to the other stars like "This is gonna get you nominated for a Grabby! Amazing!" meanwhile I guess I was just chopped liver. I also learned that people were fighting for me to be on the cover, as apparently the movie is already a fetish-type movie and my presence on the cover would do nothing but keep it sitting on the shelves. A blow to the ol' ego, in other words.

After doing this shit for over a year, constantly getting good press and rave reviews, deciding to work with more open-minded less commercial studios, I am still too "edgy" or "ethnic" or whatever they want to call it now.

I was starting to feel emotionally damaged. Me? Damaged? Issues with Sex? Weird. It's now been, oh geez, over two weeks, and I've had pretty regular sex, and the only time I wasn't paid for it in some way, I couldn't get hard and couldn't go on with it. Weird, right? I think I'm getting better though.

I have my FUCK YOU attitude back (and more on that in about five minutes). I forgot that I'm better than this shit, and that I shouldn't be upset with the rules when I've always known they were shit and I've never wanted to play by them. So I'm not. Nothing's changed, I haven't changed, and I'm not changing anything, IT'S JUST PORN.

So Much Has Happened

I don't really know what to write.

I filmed a movie in SF. More on that later.

I'm trying not to talk shit. Plus, I'm over it now. I need a break. This is the first time I've done a movie and felt emotionally exhausted afterwards.

As a result, the last thing I want to do is pour more of my damaged self onto the blog, even though I am doing it anyways. Fun times.

Lates.

 

I Can't Tell if this is Messy or Not

So I was on the Bad Boys on the Hudson cruise yesterday, one of Will Clark's fundraisers. I was glad that it was a fundraiser for something good, I think, some sort of anti-gay violence thing ha ha ha ha, which I think is a more noteworthy cause then the last fundraiser I helped Will Clark out with which I think was to give broke showtune queens dying of aids one last chance to see their Broadway favorites or something like that. To cope with all my, ahem, fame, and the stimulating people around me, I had to get extremely drunk. This led to me crumping (I've been very inspired by David LaChappelle's Rize lately) and circuit dancing, to the horror of my friend Adam.

This led to a bar crawl involving the Maritime, the Park, and A.P.T. After all this, I decided it would be a good idea to go to the West Side Club to get fucked, so I did, but when I got there I realized I was too drunk, sleepy, and hungry to be any good. I decided that meth would be a good idea despite not liking it and not doing it in over three oh wait I mean a year. I found some coke, found some cock (and it was large and attached to a black man [see previous blog please]), he fucked me for an hour, I was starting to get tired again, he came, left, I was about to go back around the dump and shower and find more cock, but then next thing I know I look at my phone, it's 9am, and I've been asleep this whole time.

It was all just a dream!

I Just Realized I'm Getting Less Witty

Strange Waves

So as some of you know, last week was my week of the old-fashioned two dicks in one hole trick. This had nothing to do with me. Nothing. I didn't look for it, or ask for it. OK, I asked for it once, but, fuck, what were they waiting for?

This week, it's been my week of color. I've literally had sex with more hot, sexy, hung black men in the past week than I think I ever have. . .I don't understand why, or how, and it once again has nothing to do with me, but this is just how it's worked out.

I'm very excited to see what happens next week.