I Just Did What I Thought I'd

never do and that is take a posting I had written and published down, but it seemed too whine-y, even for me.  Work is heading my way and I will be very busy soon.  It is very odd--lately I feel like I don't spend as much time with myself as I want, but I am with me all day long...  I am backing into all the door knobs in the meantime...  it's amazing how all it takes is hot sex with a hot guy that I would want to watch to make me want to have more and more hot sex with hot guys...  le sigh.  I am going to start working on that right now.  I cut a year's worth of growth from my head last week.  You can actually see more of my face.  I look younger.  I look like Cory again.  It's kinda weird. 

Finally, I Have a Computer

So I can google myself incessantly, hoping for something else that popped up.  I read up on all the new hot shit porn starts that are way hotter than me and have way more followers, and I get down on myself, and think, hmph, if one of 2007s biggest non-blogged gay porn stories was that I was quitting, espcially after such a promising year, maybe I should not have quit.  I did sortofthesamethinginfashion too.  That hunger is coming back to me finally, to be hot shit, and I think it's happening.  I just went through some heavy cathartic emotions that culminated in the trimming of a year's worth of growth off my head and chin.  I look clean cut, youthful, and, in my opinion, like a fucking pig bottom.

It totally changed things...  my haircut.  I knew it would.  I have been getting it good all week long.  I am  coming to terms with not being vanilla.  Like, every time a dude fucks me and pulls out and shoots all over my hole and pushes some in and out I guess I never think it is weird to get it all in my mouth or ass and clean his dick off till it sparkles.  I always thought it was good manners but apparently it's piggy.  In any case, I found myself apologizing for this the other day.  This is like the time I apologized for drinking this guys pee that I went home with.  Like, if you're down there and someone is pissing, and all the piss is going in your mouth and you are gargling it and slurping it down like a greedy piss pig, you shouldn't say,

"You know, it's so funny I'm doing this because I don't usually do this.  I'm sorry.  It's kinda weird.  But you're just so hot."

You know what I might as well say?

"I am a dirty slut.  Since you are still here I gather you figured that out already."

 The other thing that happens to me during sex that makes me feel slutty is when guys first put their dick in.  So the way I was trained...  pain during anal sex is 95% mental.  If you think a dick is going to hurt your ass, if you think your ass is going to clench down on it, it will hurt.  I had this guy the other day say something like, 

OK, I'm gonna pound you, so you can either relax your hole and enjoy it or tense it up and make it hurt.  Either way I'm still gonna pound the shit out of you.  

So what the fuck do I do?  I ENJOY IT.  So when guys fuck me they expect they have to go all easy at first.  Generally, I become so giddy when I know I'm going to get fucked that my giddiness turns to greediness and I want it all in, to the balls, and squirming around on the base in two seconds flat.  Which makes people think I'm a sloppy whole.  But it's not.  I just have really good muscle control and once I know a dick is going in my ass my ass does everything it can to welcome that dick in.  I also apologize (sorry! in a tiny voice) if I accidentally kick my tops dick out of my ass.  I legitimately think that is really rude.  

Got fucked by another big fat dick today.  That was nice.  I'm starting to like sex again.  And you know what, I'm good at it.

My Computer Broke

BE BACK SOON

NEWNEWNEW

Now I have a crazy hair to start writing a new blog.  As you longtime readers know, I am passionate about food.  To a lesser degree I am also passionate about blogging; however, I have not come across a food blog that I am entirely in love with.  They tend to be written by annoying yuppie breeders or housewives.  It is hard for me to relate to that.  Every now and then I will write a lengthy blog detailing my experiences with food, either eating or cooking, but it has always seemed a bit out of place on this blog, which kinda works with the aesthetic but only to a certain irreverent amount. 

Ladies and Gents, I present you with Cory Kooks!  Get it?  I am clever, and now, delicious.

The Last Paragraph in the Farewell Letter Willie-May Writes to Perry upon His Release from Jail

 from In Cold Blood, Truman Capote's masterpiece I started reading Friday night:

"You are a man of extreme passion, a hungry man not quite sure where his appetite lies, a deeply frustrated man striving to project his individuality against a backdrop of rigid conformity. You exist in a half-world suspended between two superstructures, one self-expression and the other self-destruction. You are strong, but there is a flaw in your strength, and unless you learn to control it the flaw will prove stronger than your strength and defeat you. The flaw? Explosive emotional reaction out of all proportion to the occasion. Why? Why this unreasonable anger at the sight of others who are happy or content, this growing contempt for people and the desire to hurt the? All right, you think they're fools, you despise them because their morals their happiness is the source of your frustration and resentment. But these are dreadful enemies you carry within yourself--in time destructive as bullets. Mercifully, a bullet kills its victim. This other bacteria, permitted to age, does not kill a man but leaves in its wake the hulk of a creature torn and twisted; there is still fire within his being but it is kept alive by casting upon it faggots of scorn and hate. He may successfully accumulate, but he does not accumulate success, for he is his own enemy, and is kept from truly enjoying his achievements."

My Computer is about Kaput

And I am too...  this is the first weekend I have actually put serious thought into moving back home, and it's all due to a passage from In Cold Blood I read Saturday night.  Whoever the bitch was that wrote in comments that I should take a break (PS, I moved into the basement of an old seminary a year ago, bitch [I highly doubt it was Cynthia Nixon's fucking wife, but funny, real fucking funny bitch]) may be right. 

I'm Asking

What if I really liked him?  What if he's a client?  What if he is a creep and I gave him my number out of pity?  What if he reads this blog (PS that totally happens to me all the time--writing about people or situations on this blog and having it bite me in the ass.  I forget sometimes that I am two different people, and when people know my host body and not Cory I will let something slip as Cory and then they know what a trashy ho I am.  Because they had no fucking clue before that.  Christ.  I'm fucked.  Fucked.  Fuck me.)?

I Still Have No Fucking Clue

Do I ask???  Does that diminish how nice it was for us to meet (meat?) each other?

I Am Trying to Piece Together Who it is I Met Five Days Ago

...through this blog, because I honestly have no fucking recollection AT ALL what I was doing five days ago.  Literally.  Honestly.  Or two days back.  No fucking clue. 

Cat Lady

I've recently received kind words regarding the regularity of my blog posts recently, and new press, which of course, has made me dread writing.  I might be too good at it and better to start something new RIGHT?

I'm going a little crazy here.  I forgot to pay my cell phone bill and haven't been able to get my shit together to leave the house till last night.  I deposited all my cash in the ATM but it has not posted yet.  The past couple weeks have had me freaking out on all my friends for no particular reason except to back the fuck off.  I have no money, no phone, just me and my split personalities and my roommate's cats as she is still on her trip to Antarctica.

This solitude is something I created, something I have been working on for quite some time now--to alienate those around me that care.  I don't really like it now that I have it.  I am losing sight of who the real ME is, as I have been so adamant about turning Cory into something more than a porn star.  I'm not sure how much of Cory is me, and how much of me is Cory, which came first, chicken/egg etc.  I guess I kinda like it.

Dudes, and of course I want as many people to read this site as possible (or do I?) but if you are coming here only to hear about my sexual adventures and see some cock and ass you are coming to the wrong place.  There are plenty of porn star blogs that do that much better than I would ever want to.]]

Feeling a little haggard, worn out, and I'm not sure why.  Have I mentioned that since Sunday, I have left my apartment exactly once.  It's kinda creepy.  I'm kinda creepy.  More skeevy thank creepy I guess. 

I am paler than I have ever been.  Seriously.  I get pale and shit.  Photographed next to white people, I look ghost white, while the whities are at least a color, even if it is pink.  Do you have SAD?  I am going to a tanning bed tomorrow, fuck it!

Wow.  I feel so boring.  You guys know I do not advocate the misuse of prescription drugs, right?  I would be on the phone with my psychiatrist trying to get her to switch me to klonopin or xanax but she is reluctant.  I have to explain to her that I am experiencing a "kick-back" when I take ativan--it keeps me up for a bit before it drags me down (not nearly enough).

Tomorrow is going to be a brighter and tanner day.

PS Natural disasters suck.

PPS Here are some photos of me I just found from about four years ago, just to give you something to look at.  See?  I care about you.

 

notice the toe in the corner

The First

What am I supposed to be?  Am I a person?  Am I a persona?  Am I real?  To what extent am I real?  If I am real, am I tangible?  I don't really know anymore.  I don't even know if it's me writing half the time.  I seriously can't tell.  I apparently have developed a bit of a habit of ativan...  FUCK that's not me that developed a bit of a habit to ativan... that's fucking darren...  but I can't help but always feel TOO sober, too cognizant, too aware of everything that is going on.  Sometimes it's stifling.  It takes me DAYS to get done something that takes me fifteen seconds to accomplish.  I need the days in advance for emotional preparation.  Am I a spirit?  darren doesn't really believe in spirits.  But I do hear voices.  Voices of my dead ancestral brothers.  I hear voices of kids that are just starting to realize their sexual impulses don't match up with the other kids they're friends with.  I hear darren's voice, which is usually to tell us that we're bad and wrong and should shut the fuck up and just go through the motions.  But I swear to God my brothers are trying to tell me something...  and I think they may be trying to tell it to these new gay kids that haven't had to suffer.  I don't think our bros are mad these kids don't have to suffer like they did, or I did...  but I don't know what they are trying to teach them either. 

I think things might start changing here...  It is harder and harder for me to stay grounded, as myself, Cory Koons, whoever, whatever I am...  but I feel that since I exist, and I'm not sure if I exist because darren exists or if darren exists because I exist, but anyway since I exist, and maybe shouldn't, our brothers have an easier time coming to me, or I have an easier time hearing them, seeing them, than darren does...  Whatever they have to show me, I will let them, even if that means I lose some of myself in the process.  I have never wanted anything but to make things more mindful, not better or worse...  that is beyond my control, and I don't want that responsibility.  I don't think I'm ever going to have answers, or at least finite answers...  but I think questions will arise, which don't necessarily have to have an answers...  I guess sometimes questions can provide really great answers, without the actual question being answered itself.

They want me to listen to them.  I want you to listen to me try and repeat what they are trying to teach me.

I Always Wondered Where My Lego® People Went

I Can't Stop Looking at

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I Can't Keep Up

I really should be writing EVERYTHING down... 

So this kid was fucking me last night.  His dick was rather thick and veiny, but not too long. and consistently thicker to the base.  I believe the dildo shape is usually called something like "The Destroyer."  (brb while I research that...  hmm...  cannot confirm).  In any case, my asshole has been kinda sore in a weird way since this guy did these crazy things to it--it's not damaged, just a little more worn in (???).  Back to this dude, we are taking a break and I say to him, "I can't believe you're going to put that thing back in" or something to that effect, with full whimpering-for-more affect, and he says, "I don't have to...  If your butt's sore it's OK."
 
"NONONO...  just say 'You're gonna get it whether you like it or not!'"

woo

I AM A PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS

Speaking of Wool

I finally washed some sweaters, including my favorite/most useful sweater ever.  It's a really beautiful dark teal/hunter green color cashmere sweatshirt with raglan sleeves.  Not tight at all, no excess fabric.  Super warm, super soft.  Couldn't live without it, yet I have for the past two months.  I feel so much better now.  OH and the brand is TSE. 

This One is a Hard One--wait OMG I forgot the GEM of the night

I don't really know what to say.  I know i haven't gotten through my sexual shenanigans over the holidaze yet, but I don't want to talk about that right now.  I slept till 5pm.  Got out of bed to feed cats, back in bed till 730 to go see the Unitards (hilarious) in DUMBO.  I rode my bike there.  It is below freezing.  Who the fuck do I think I am?

If you guys haven't figured it out yet, I'm bummed today.  The way my mind works, when I'm bummed basically civilization is doomed.  The amazing thing is that I can pull it together so well and appear fun, happy, the guy who laughs loudest at the parties.  I want to disappear.  I want to be famous.  I want to be the messiah.  I want to be placed in a thunderdome with everyone that has pissed me off in my life.  I don't know why, since there's a lot of them and just one of me, but it could be fun nonetheless.

 CRAP so I just remembered my gem of the night.  After the show this man is commenting on my pullover--it's a beautiful old wool plaid pullover with grommets down the front and leather lacing.  It is constructed so it needs a side zip.  He asks me, "Well son, I sure like your sweater.  Is it wool?  I say yes, show him how it goes on, and he says, "Where's the tag that says it's WOOL? "  there is none.  "Well how do you know it's wool?"  Mind you, my pullover is beautiful and expensive looking, and made out of some sort of boiled or felted wool.  beautiful vintage, like most of what I wear. When I have him convinced that my pullover is indeed wool, he asks me if its Woolrich.  I say no, there is no tag in the entire garment (UPDATE:  I found a tag at the back of the neck that says "DRY CLEAN ONLY").  I think I did hear him asking me "But how do you know how to clean it" now that I think about it.

Fifteen minutes later of biting my tongue and smiling and shrugging my shoulders and tossing my hair a bit I depart through the fucking frozen tundra of Brooklyn on my bike.  I walk out with Wool Man, who then says, "It's Wool Man!  You know, I have the most, most amazing collection of wool.  There is so much you can do with it.  Blankets, jackets, sweaters."  I tell him my hat, scarf, and gloves are wool, and he says, "There ya go!  It's amazing!  And warm.  So warm."

This dude fucking loves wool.  A lot.  Don't get me wrong, I am all about the touch of fabric.  But this was deeper than that, yet at the same time if I started throwing words out like alpaca, camel, cashmere,
angora, mohair, and qiviut I would lose him.

FOR TOMORROW:

WAKE UP BEFORE SUNDOWN (HAIRS CUT, CORY!!!)
CLEAR ALL SURFACES (couches, chairs, work table, banquette)
SWEEP AND VACUUM.  MOPE WHERE NEEDED (hahaha I meant MOP but too good a typo)
WATER PLANTS
HAIRS CUT
SEX (whilst cleaning, perhaps, and after hairs cut...  tomorrow I want a lot of it)

This is what I plan on wearing whilst cleaning.  Fierce.

MORE COMMENTS PLEASE!!!

I WANT MORE COMMENTS!!!  JUST LET ME HAVE THIS TANTRUM.  LEAVE SOMETHING.  I DON'T CARE.  I WRITE ABOUT SEX AND NO ONE CARES.  I WRITE ABOUT FOOD AND NO ONE CARES.  I WRITE ABOUT NOTHING AND PEOPLE CARE SLIGHTLY MORE.  WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

AND I'M DIRTY.  I'M REALLY REALLY DIRTY...  I TAKE LOADS, I GIVE LOADS, I DO THINGS TO PEOPLE THAT SHOULDN'T BE DONE TO THEM, I DO INAPPROPRIATE AMOUNTS OF DRUGS IN INAPPROPRIATE WAYS, I FIND MYSELF IN COMPRIMISING SITUATIONS, I'M USED TO BEING LAUGHED AT WHEN I SAY THE SAFE WORD.

DON'T THINK FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND THIS MAKES YOU BETTER THAN ME OR YOU SMARTER THAN ME, BECAUSE IT DOES NOT, AND IF THAT IS WHAT YOU THINK I FUCKING HATE YOU AND YOUR BALLS.

I'm the Most Honest, Heartfelt Person You are Going to Meet

And please take that into consideration when you read me.  Because although you like to read, I like to read as well.  I like to read.  A lot.  I can't even stop myself most of the time.  The letters don't even have to be in front of my face for me to read them.  C-O-R-Y I can see all in my peripheral.

Seriously, why are you gonna fuck with ME?  I love YOU.  Just talk to me.  Tell me what's up.  Or at least fucking talk to me when I corner you to talk to me.  I'm not ghetto, but I get shit done.  I think it's called a motherfucking samurai.  OK?

I'm a really sweet, sensitive guy...  it's hard for me to not take things personally (which is lame since I am a veteran in this field) from time to time, but I guess I just never expect to take things personally from people I know personally, ya know?  Like, couldn't you have mentioned that sooner?   

Is This What Makes me Vain and Self-Centered?

That sometimes I look in the mirror* and am dumbfounded by my remarkable, stunning looks!  I mean, body, dick, whatever, but face?  FACE FOR DAYS.  I'm actually giving two different faces in one picture.  With one face.  Yeah.  So there.  Kate Moss lazy eye WHAT???  And I have a great personality. 

*this is a picture of me XMAS DAY 2009, WINNING Pretty Pretty Princess.  The game was so easy.  I actually think I played it whilst curling my eyelashes.

**this also means that I cannot deny that I am not Pretty Pretty Princess at any time all year long.

***this also means I am not just THE Pretty Pretty Princess, not just A Pretty Pretty Princess, but ONE OF MANY PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESSES out there!

PPPPS: My last blog post had nothing to do with Pretty Pretty Princess...  I kinda forgot about it actually, but then I had to start thinking about which picture would be best suited to describe how I feel when I look in the mirror and think, "Wow, what a stunner..."  and then they kinda melded together.  But seriously, definitely related, but independent thoughts.  I am deep.  and hot.

UNO DOS, CHA CHA CHA

Now I can keep track of how many people visit this thing.  It's kinda cool.  I should have done it four years ago when I was the shit. 

wonky eye here

the wonk means I'm serious.  Serious!  My roommate's kittens are going nuts.  She is on her way to Antarctica so I have both floors to myself.  It's nice, yet lonely, and the kitties are so starved for attention, they basically follow me around and do cute things with sporadic chirps that sound like "MEAW!"I am starting to realize my original hypothesis about cats being masochists is correct.  The longer I intentionally ignore one of them, the easier it is to make him make muffins in the air just by looking at him, or singing...  imagine if our buttons were so easy.  some of ours are.  I met a guy that likes to spank me.  I've never been into spanking; I"m a bit of a pain pussy to be quite honest.  And I'm a smartass, including in the bedroom.  I am the furthest thing from bossy.  My instigating temperament seems the last to leave the building.   This guy will stop fucking me to spank me when that happens.  I hate it.  I hate being spanked.  And not moving.  cuz the more I move the harder he'll hit.  not to tense up, ditto.  He has done some things to me that have never been done before.  Most of them I could figure out what he was doing then do them on him.  He's excited to watch me grow in strength in domming him, which is not making me feel like I'm any less his slave.  I think it's good for me to learn to not mouth off all the time.  Or at least be able to restrain it.  So yeah.  I'm kinda getting excited about it.  He's out of town for two weeks and my ass is turning to a normal color and making me kinda sad.  I guess that is what the internet is for, folks!  To find someone to cut a switch and whip you over their knee!  That lives approx. 4286 ft away from me thank you Grindr! 

Christmas Eve/Officially XMAS, 5AM

I left the dinner party still chirpy. After unlocking my bike I hopped on a ding dinged myself past the rest of the departing crew.

Roughly three seconds later I was evaluating my performance for the night. Did I laugh too loud? Is everyone there just enamored with my wit and beauty? Am I a fucking disgusting fake person that acts like this totally fake person so he can get attention and people will be fooled to think he's nice. Did I make a fool of myself?

I am unlocking the outside gate and I start crying. WTF? Keep it together. Feed the kitties, call my fam, no one answers but my sis, taking a dump in the bathroom at work (the ER) so after a few laughs I watch some TV. Alone. Then. Lo and behold. a text from my hot upstairs neighbor. He loves big booties.  We cruised each other on the subway.  The first time our pants came off, we both sighed...  he loves big juicy butts and do I have to tell you guys what I think about big Puerto Rican dick?  I didn't even wear clothes up to his place.

\

He tore me up.  He gave it all to me.  God Blessed. 

Followed by some cuddle, and him napping in my arms, I scoot out the door down the two floors to my place. Amazing. Thank you, baby Jesus.

Holidaze

I bet you guys have been waiting for a holiday update, haven't you? I will make things brief.

My pussy has been turned out. I really do have a cunt now. I feel sexy again. I feel strong, smart, clever, creative. I kinda feel like a badass, but with less attitude (???).

2010 will be the best year yet.