As You May Have Guessed

I hate the holidays. Riding home from my Christmas Eve dinner. Ahem. Solstice celebratory dinner, riding my bike in the snow, car honk honk honk honk. I catch up with them at the next light and hawk up a big ol' chunk o' phlegm and it lands right on the driver window. This was accompanied by a very loud "FUUUUUUCK YOOOOOUUUUUU." My xxmas present to myself.

I Am on a Roll

It's back, it's rolling (and I mean on a role, not a euphemism for taking MDMA).

NOTE: I often refer to things as "it," it has nothing to do with me trivializing things or disrespecting things and turning them into a non-being; I just do it with all of it--you, her/him, us, we, me... it does what it does and it actually has a point... it may be vague at times but don't get it twisted, it could be a situation.

Special thanks to Q & E for the vernacular.

The first"it" in this post refers to "it" as me.

I've closed two bars in a row... why are there so man seksy guys all of a sudden that think I'm hot? My hair is long now and faggots aren't supposed to like long hair.

Wasted, drunky, I feel like I am giving an awards acceptance speech. RK, AC, FCS, MA, LF, KA, JC & HH, SE, and of course I would be nothing without DK.

The Best

I just de-fatted the best chicken stock I have ever made. The only other chicken stock that has come close is a method for quick chicken stock using a whole chopped up chicken that is browned and "sweated" with sautéed onion before adding water. It always seemed like a waste to use the chicken meat only for the stock, as the meat could be used as kitty litter it is so dry.

For the most delicious chicken stock such as that in my pantry, I took two approaches to the bird. First, I used a variation of a method for preparing Hainanese chicken rice by dropping the bird into enough boiling salted water to cover it by an inch or so. Roughly chopped celery, carrot, onion, bay leaf, peppercorn, and one dried red chili. I let it come back to almost a boil, covered it, heat on low for fifteen minutes then I turned the heat off and let it poach for another forty-five minutes or so. I removed the poached chicken and dropped it into a colander over a bowl. After the chicken cooled a bit, I shredded the chicken from the bone, being pretty messy about it (there will be a lot of dark meat still attached to questionably textured (fat is not supposed to be crunchy unless it is fried!) fat so do what you want. I reserve all the pulled chicken meat for stuff (mmm chicken salad, myriad pastas, or DOY make chicken soup!) and throw everything else back in the pot, bring it up to an almost boil and throw it in a 250° oven overnight. Strain, at least twice, when you wake up.

Poaching the chicken in water starts the stock off with a strong chicken flavor so when the carcass goes back in it doesn't have to do much work, but it does all night. The other great thing about poaching the chicken is you can add any aromatics you want--say you were going to make a Thai-style chicken soup--you can start off poaching the chicken with lemongrass, ginger, chili, and lime leaf.

Woo. so exciting.

I've Been Sick

When I'm sick I'm miserable and annoying, and this sickytime was really annoying. I am getting rid of... brace yourself... a REALLY BAD COLD. That's all. No swine flu. No cat scratch fever. Low-grade fever, headache, that was all I had. I felt crappy enough to not want to do anything at all. For a week. wah. OK well I'm well enough now to venture outside (scary, but at least it's dark out)--oh yeah, this severe cold was so annoying that it gave me zits. annoying. I hate little things that mark my imperfection. the nerve! So I'm going to some Christmas-y thing put together by two friends (and past and present crushes, one of which could have been mine had it not been for RK) and I'm thinking of either looking really handsome and manly and gorgeous or like this,



but with jeans on over the union-suit. The sweater above is my dedicated holiday sweater on its 1st Manhattan outing (it had a trial run over to dinner in Brooklyn). I think it's a winner. It's 100% acrylic made in korea. kinda amazing. I guess I should shower now as the party has already started.

It Takes Four Hours...

...from the time I eat quinoa to the time it comes out my ass in the same birdseed-looking bits. Hmph.

Old Dogs, New Tricks

So I fucked the hell out of this guy yesterday... and I was shocked at how much I liked it. He was vers but couldn't really keep it up all that well and mine was rock hard so hey! I received a fleshlight in some gift bag about a year ago, and thought it was pure novelty. A friend of mine told me, "Do your dick a favor and go home right now and use it."

To be honest, I've never been one for getting blowjobs or fucking--I think my chronic masturbation without lube until I started having actual sex created some sort of hypersensitivity that would make me lose my hardon, of course, unless I'm getting fucked. Back to the fleshlight. Holy fuck. Wow. That's what they're for. Fast forward a few months, I'm plowing this dude and liking it. And then I realized:

Fucking someone is like jerking off but using their asshole instead of your hand.

Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?

Kitten Photo Shoot

that's what I did this morning with my stoney brainiac queer roommate and her two big fat, stunning, cats. and now...

TD2009 Menu

beet-pickled deviled eggs
celeriac bisque with thyme creme fraiche and smoked salmon
green goddess butter leaf salad with chopped autumn vegetables and shrimp
brined heritage pork loin stuffed with apricots and currants
balsamic and pomegranate glazed baby onions
roasted autumn vegetables
sweet potato puree
collard greens
brussel sprout hash with figs, bacon and lemon zest

My friend, the baker, made a shitload of amazing desserts. yum.

Not Again...

I haven't left my house since Wednesday.
I haven't showered since Thursday.

Hot or Not?

I have petted my roommate's cats, collectively, for around ninety-six hours.
I have let dishes (some from TD2009 still; no one stayed around to help me clean. At all.) take over the kitchen.
I am wearing sweat pants.

Hot or Not?

TD2009

I have 14 wait 4 wait 8 wait 9 people attending my dinner this year. Menu plans to follow. I have been reconsidering the merits of being a total self-centered narcissist who writes about himself. Rather, I am realizing I could write maybe four separate blogs under different names and they would all be super personal and completely different. I don't know what my point is. You may or may not be reading more of my writings in the future.

I'm starting to feel relatively normal for once, and by that I mean what I think normal feels like, if you take pills in the morning to get you going and pills at night to slow you down.

It's never a dull moment over here in my head.

Love to all eleven of my followers--sheesh--I'm such a STAR!

Don't forget--I do not want your blanket.

by the incomperable Britton Reed Massengill

Like a Fucking Unicorn

I had sex with an uncut, atheist Jew from Berkeley, California, Saturday night. That's all.

No Advice Please

I had lunch with this cute Jewboy I picked up while locking my bike up a block away from the office.

I noticed him cruising me as I dismounted. I said, "Hi." He said, "Hi," and kept walking. Not enjoying asking myself "What if?" I shouted at him, "WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" He turned around and walked back. Good boy.

He's adorable, laughs like a stoner, and is moving with his boyfriend to Northern California in the Fall. Awesome! What makes it even better? His boyfriend leaves in two weeks. Perfect.

I Think I Need to Change the Name of this Blog

Cory Koons is a sexworker. I read other sexworker blogs, and they're all about sex, or at least sexy.

This blog is the furthest thing from sexy.

Suggestions?

I'm in Love

With a married man.

I am working crazy hours right now.

I get home, it's late, I'm stressed, I smoke some grass, and I don't want to face my adoring fans. Sadface.

It's raining like a motherfucker. Someone get those Native Americans to stop dancing!

I'm writing this from my office. For those of you that don't know, and I don't know why any of you would know, I am now working in the field of costume design for major motion pictures. There are lots of windows in the costume department, on the 12th floor. No building behind this one so I can see out. The lightning is amazing. I don't really want to get into it or I'll start to sound really out there.

But. We are all so insignificant. I do not mean that in a depressed, deprecating way--it's true. The sky. It's so big. Much bigger than we will ever be.

I'm a total narcissist. I have no self esteem. This is not uncommon, but I think my case is more severe than others.

Of course I do!

MASKFACE!!!

Literally. I just realized it. My face ISN'T perfect! I was shocked at first, myself... But it makes sense, right? Nothing's perfect!

So yeah, the left side of my face is kinduva MASKFACE. Since it is the side of my face that emotes--I smirk, sneer, squint, raise eyebrow, almost exclusively on the left side, therefore aging it more quickly. The right side of my face, by comparison, is gorged over. The skin is smooth, the cheek rosy , the eye emotes and twinkles, the brow above is arched every slightly more elegantly, the mouth is simpering rather than sulking.

I thought I was totally immune to MASKFACE. It's urban legend that Kate Moss has been such a successful model solely because of her WONKFACE.

As my exbf/bff succinctly stated, "Everyone loves a dude that can suck your dick, look you in the eye AND gaze at your cock at the same time."

KRISPY

I am a bit fried. Went to Fire Island over the weekend. Worked the door for my dear friend Rich King's SUMMERSNAXX party at the Ice Palace in Cherry Grove. It was a hoot. This is a pic of me before I became so krispy.

Dinner for One

I prefer eating almost everything out of a wide, shallow bowl. The one I just at from has an empty crib at the bottom of a staircase, with a doll discarded on the floor. green and bone. depicting wood paneling. the lip is made to look like three pieces of curved wood nailed down.

Pic from my Latest Porn Shoot

i thought you guys would be interested in what I look like these days...

When Will I Ever Shut Up?

This is a bit old but I figure it's worth posting. Fun times. It seems like I know what I'm talking about at least a bit, right? Strangely, the editor of the article did some incorrect research and made me sound like more of an asspig than I really am (!!!)(first time I've ever said that). I have done a fisting movie, but as a top. I believe I was fisty von fistenbergs thirteenth fist.

I have a funny story about all of that, well now that I think about it a few related funny stories, which should be in a post titled Adventures in Fistysitting or My Dating Experiment. Both of these blog posts I may or may not write one day.

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS...

a free lunch.
bad publicity.
nuclear waste.
love.
clean coal.
society.
a natural disaster.
a stupid question.
race.
coincidence.
a retired porn star.

Special thanks to Google's suggestions.

I'M A WEINER!

I MEAN WINNER!

the black party is tonight. iamsohungoveriwanttodie. geez this glamorous life can be so exhausting sometimes!

The Hookies. TONITE! at Splash NYC

Hello to all my fans.

It has been a long time since I posted, especially since I started posting so regularly in February.

I wish I were more comfortable with attention. I understand there is a disconnect between my actions and my emotions sometimes (writing a blog, getting fucked onscreen, go-go dancing, bartending, fashion, are not necessarily the best things to do if you crave anonymity) but I really am trying to work it out.

It was a lot easier writing my heart out before I realized people were reading.

The Hookies are tonight. Thanks to all that voted for me for best ass. I am keeping my fingers (but not my legs) crossed.
info as follows:

The 3rd Annual International Escort Awards
"The Hookies"

Hosted by drag artist and singer
Shequida
With special guests : Jonny "The Gay Pimp" McGovern, Michael Lucas, and more.
Live at SPLASH BAR & LOUNGE New York City
Friday Night / March 20th, 2009
Red Carpet: 8pm Awards Show: 9pm to 10:30pm
(Admission is Free until 10pm)

I will be there.

Get Your Pocket Change Ready

And perhaps a sock to put it in, unless you'd rather throw it at me. I will be dancing bar top at MOOSEknuckle at The Hose tonight, in the East Village of good ol' NYC. 225 Ave B btw 13th and 14th upstairs from the liquor shop. It might look something like this:



If

1. you have had too much to drink or you ate some mushrooms (paper seems to be so hard to find these days, if anyone has a connection please PLEASE let me know)

2. I start to dance REALLY fast

I Finally Fucked a Pageant Winner

Right after I had my intake with my new therapist.

A friend of mine owns a catering company. I work for him from time to time. Most of the time, I am awash in a sea of anonymity. Other times, there are nights like last night. Within fifteen minutes of the doors opening, I am spotted by someone I work with in my day job (I work in fashion. Appearance is everything. My porn career hasn't been too much of a hinderance as my appearance naked is quite nice.). He says, "Oh hi, so nice to see you. What are you doing here? Are you doing the PR for the event?"

I say, no, I'm picking up your dirty glasses. I contemplate lying for a second, but I am no good at that sort of thing.

He says, "You do what you have to do."

Maybe ten minutes later, the same thing happens to me. Again. At this point, I am mildly horrified.

Not a few moments after that, and a young stranger walks up to me and says hello to me, addressing me by my real name. I politely say hello, and he tells me he is a big fan of mine. As he used my real name, I am assuming he means my work in fashion. I ask him to clarify. He responds, "Your work, um, in movies..."

I ask him how he knows my real name. He tells me "Facebook. Mind if I take a photo of you?"

I smile pretty for the camera. I don't like to take bad photos. I know my angles.

He then says, "You do what you gotta do."

Mortifying.

I Cry for Attention

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To My Adoring Fans:

Do I have any left?

What You Are Doing Tonight

Sorry for the late notice, but I am doing the dance tonight at the Eagle NYC, for Max Scott and Mark Nelson's V-Day party, the Stag Ball.



There will be other, more famous porn stars there that are in better shape than me. The bonus is that I will be messier, cheaper, and drunker than anyone!!!

I think I'm Lonely

Ah. I remember what the purpose of this post was now! Feelings of disconnection with society. That's what makes us rebels, right? We don't feel attached or like we have things in common with "normal" people and therefore seek ways to expand our reach, right? I think I could write a whole book on this.

Group therapy didn't work for me. Hearing other people tell their stories actually made me feel more and more alienated. Does feeling alienated and feeling like an alien mean the same thing?

the name is cory koons, don't forget it

10 Feb 2009, 14:13
tktk: fucking HAWTTTTTTTTTT!!!
i know i know u from porn, but cant for the life of me remember ur name.
hottie asian boi pussy getting banged bb is so fucking HOTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!
im in love...

11 Feb 2009, 01:30
You: i haven't been gang banged bb... in a movie though?!?!?HMPH!

thanks for the compliments. i don't like to think of my hole as an asian boi pussy though.

private password attached: mrkoons

SEX

I had it this weekend. I know many of you out there probably think that I have a huge, gaping hole. But let me tell you, it did not feel huge or gaping this weekend. It's very strange. I don't quite get it myself. For someone such as myself, there should be less... resistance. I almost feel like a superhero after they get their superpowers taken away. I still think I can do certain things, but then I hurt myself. Ow.

I NEED RELEASE

I haven't felt that in six months. but God Damn.

PS This morning I woke up in a pool of sweat with a racing heart. I dreamt I was running a six minute mile, something I haven't done since my cross country days in high school. You think I was just born with these thighs?

My Next Tattoo

with a few minor changes

I am going to have sex this weekend

and I will write about it. I promise.

so if you google image me...

after several pages, artworks by Jeff Koons pop up. and if you happened to google "cory jeff koons," pictures of us pop up next to each other. I started serious work on a series of diptychs. very exciting.

I woke up punching the wall.

My sleeping nook is just that. three walls spaced far enough apart to barely fit a queen-size mattress, half a flight of stairs up from my closet and bathroom. I have never punched walls in my sleep until now. Interesting.

On another note, I have been reading other porn star's blogs out there this AM, and I realized that they are all sex addicts that talk about sex a lot. I guess, a lot like how I used to be. What happened, you ask? I'm working on it.

Bottom Chef

I had a dream I was a contestant on "Top Chef" this morning. This is my sleep pattern. Do not fall asleep. Do not fall asleep. Sleep uneasily. Wake up in a panic around 8 or 9am. Go soundly back to sleep. Sound sleep is interrupted by active, lucid dreaming. Wake up at noon, another failure.

I was in the final three this time. It was in New York City. The challenge was to create a dish based around a locavore protein. I chose wild striped bass. there was some sort of foraged blackberry sauce, and an updated take on a melon ball salad with mint and jicama. Really, though, the genius is forgotten. It's like in Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion when she dreams and she knows the molecular formula of the glue for Post-It© notes, but when she wakes up she doesn't remember.

Am I the cute one?

January 26 is the new January 1

I vacuumed today. they say that completing simple house chores is therapeutic for people suffering from depression.

January 2 is the New January 1

I must leave my quarters soon. I live in the basement of an old seminary. It is hard to leave sometimes. I am excited about a new year. woo!

portraits

by Paul Sepuya

Before and After

My Blood is Boiling.

I Bought a Costume Today

It's an instant cat.
Black PVC with Kelly green PVC and Kelly green plastic jewel accents.
Ears on a headband.
Tail with a loop.
Collar.

I will be wearing it tonight at the Cock. Costumes for Friday and Saturday night are more substantial.

Meow.

I'm really sad that I haven't posted things that I reminded myself to post last post. It seems like cheating if I post about them now, but what the Hell?

POST TO MYSELF:

Hey You,

I know you don't have time right now and I also know you had quite an eventful week last week. Don't forget to write about

new love
Spit
BUTT Party
anal fissure
Double Cheez Whiz
nice beard!
kilt party

OK thanks! Don't forget to write!!! I miss and love you more every day, oxoxCK

PS what are your plans to visit? I am off indefinitely and would love to get together. we can let bygones be bygones. I love you too much to let you go. Let's work this out, OK?

I Eat the Same Thing for Breakfast Every Fucking Day

I wake up, put the kettle feed the cats (two Maine coons, they are huge and my lesbian roommates. both males. What is interesting about Maine coons is they are known for their vocals. Meows like you have never heard), make a pot of English breakfast tea that I drink with milk and agave nectar (low glycemic). Then I usually do my emailing while I wait for my steel-cut oatmeal to cook (it's the best oatmeal. Irish style. In the cute metal can. It takes thirty minutes but it's worth it. Alternatively you can boil it for five minutes the night before and let it sit, covered, till the morning and finish cooking it in a jiffy, but it makes it a bit less toothsome and more gummy). I always top my steel-cut oats with grade A organic maple syrup, a bit of cinnamon, and always, ALWAYS, fresh-ground nutmeg. Nothing like it. It's like that Japanese sixth sense... also the secret to an amazing Bolognese. I add whatever I have laying around--a handful of raisins, dried cranberries, sour cherries, apricots, chopped apple, banana, nuts.

I'm eating it right now.

I like starting my day the same every day.

I feel much better today.

My love life has been interesting lately. The fact that I have one is pretty interesting in and of itself, really. What started as a joke--me being only interested in either guys with boyfriends, or guys visiting from out of town, or both, has proven to be true, and now it's getting complicated. Funny how I was trying to avoid that. Am I ready for complications? Am I ready for love? Should I adopt my roommmate's' cats as my own and start my African violet collection?

It's Happening Again

I have that queazy feeling in my stomach. I am unsure of my actions or motivations. I feel vulnerable. What could it be?

Hey Bro, Is There Something You Should Tell Me?

It was inevitable, yes, and it has finally happened. ¡Aye! My sister knows the full extent of my "modelling/go-go dancing/bartender/independent film actor/costumer" career.

I'm still too uncomfortable to fully process it.

I am happy to say that my amazing sister loves me unconditionally! I am truly gifted to have her and the rest of my family in my life.

Hopefully I'll be able to read her MySpace email tomorrow.

Cut the Cake

For those of you who missed last night's Hustlaball, it was a total blast, a smashing success! Jeff at Rentboy is my new hero. Things got interesting when a fire started on the top floor and the club had to be evacuated. The party resumed thirty minutes to an hour later. DJ Rich King is my favorite DJ in the world. Ladyfag is the sexiest woman I know. I kinda want Rich and Lady to do it so I can watch. Hanging out with Ladyfag makes me feel very queer.

BTW, my burlesque number was a hit!








Thanks to Tony Serrano for cleaning up my mess. And to all the queens that bitched and moaned about the slippery, sticky, cakey mess that resulted from my act... DON'T BE JEALOUS!

On another note, I must say that someone needs to teach some of these newer, younger rentboys, some manners. You know who you are, little ones. Come to daddy.

my burlesque debut, this Sunday...

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I have such a great reputation.

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WORK OUT

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tempur-pedic

they have this funny way of enhancing whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment. what is floating on clouds one night is sinking in a hole the next. tonight it feels like a cave that makes me keep my eyes open. it is weird.

it could be nerves. it could be emotions.

I have to wake up in four hours. I don't want to go to bed.

the sleep has been jittery lately.

I didn't want to leave the beach. no one knew me. my iPhone broke the minute i boarded the train. my voice mail box was full. one night turned into a week.

the man I was with and I are perfect for each other. great chemistry. instant pet names. we tried not to talk about anything important; keep it on the surface. we cuddled less but fucked with invariable intensity.

when I got back from the beach, I tried to pretend I was still there. stay at home. they won't find you here.

Back in Town

I'm back in town. More to come later.

Off to the Beach!

So I met a very nice man with a beercan cock and a Harley and he invited me to his beach house this weekend. Thank fucking god. My tan is going to be fierce.

Black Party '08 Memories:

In regards to a certain Brazilian who became my nemesis as quickly as he manipulated me to become my best friend.

From:
Subject: were u at the black party? dancing?
Date: Sun 13 Jul 2008 10:56 AM

On Sun 13 Jul 2008 10:57 AM, Cory Koons wrote:

i sure was. I was wearing high waisted deerskin shorts, boots, and such, and then a chaps waist jockstrap. was on stage soaked in blood, etc.

On Sun 13 Jul 2008 10:59 AM, wrote:

i think we were dancing together,.
we met upstairs in the dressing room with this other fried of yours.
We kissed a bit,..
You were wearing an ass free outfit,..

On Sun 13 Jul 2008 11:01 AM, Cory Koons wrote:

oh shit we did, didn't we? OK, so that friend of mine later turned out to be all crazy and shit, and even last night any guy I would talk to he would immediately try to steal from me (even if I was just talking to a friend)... was that the case there? usually when it happens I just walk away.

From:
Subject: Re: were u at the black party? dancing?
Date: Sun 13 Jul 2008 11:05 AM

that was exactly the case,..
i think he was high on something
he's hot but he's too crazy for me.
you were extremely mellow.
Yes he was very jealous and kept asking why I like you and not him.
You felt extremely good and I would have loved to make out with you but you
disappeared...

WITH FRIENDS LIKE THAT WHO NEEDS ENEMIES?

This Goes to Show You How the Energy You Throw Off Comes Back to You.

I am riding my bike from Union Square to the Bar, to dance. I am late. I cross 6th Ave crosswalk. A motherfucker takes two running steps and kicks my bike as hard he can. I cut him off or give me any reason to do this. I stop my bike. "what the fuck was that?" no response. "fucking asshole!"

"fucking faggot."

"what did you say?"

"FUCKING FAGGOT!!!"

He is already walking away by this point. I put my kickstand up. Leave my bike in the street. Start walking after him. Rip my fucking sunglasses and earphones out. "Say it to my face!" he continues to hustle to the nearest store, a fucking Sprint PCS. I follow him in there as he walks deeper in the store. I call him a fucking pussy a couple times really loudly, then walk away, get on my bike, and get ready to don a plastic'grass skirt, and a floaty ring in the shape of Tony the Tiger.

Afterwards, I am leaving with a friend, and two dudes walk past us, one of them makes an under-his-breath type of condescending comment that sounds nice but you know it means the opposite, you stupid fucking faggot, so when I chirp up "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY? COULD YOU PLEASE REPEAT THAT? SPEAK INTO THE MICROPHONE." He doesn't like it very much and can just say

"I didn't say nothing mean, I just said that you can go on continue doing whatever you want to do, I didn't say shit."

with all the sarcastic, deluded, grandeur he can conjure up.
"BULLSHIT. BULL-FUCKING SHIT" This is when my friend steps in, as he can see that they are probably in a gang, three of his friends are half a block away wondering if they should pull him away or wait for the signal to join in and beat us faggots down. They talk heatedly for a while, I stop listening. Key terms I hear are, "This is my turf," "your friend needs to step down (I was unchanged in my position, smiling bemusedly, I would rather have had my teeth knocked out and my face drug across the pavement than back down at that moment)," "...Just because you're light-skinned," "I know. My friend, he's talking stupid, and he's not going to say nothing no more (friend is looking at me, like keep your fucking mouth shut stupid ass)."

We managed to get out of that one unscathed, but seriously, fucking hell, why should two faggots think that being fucking heckled by some ignorant assholes (whose fucking turf you happen to be on, um, we're one block away from a gay bar and fancy car delearships assholes I think that makes it just as much our turf, um, joking, but anyway) whilst walking away from a leather bar think that's OK, and not speak up, even if it means getting our asses kicked?

I guess that really doesn't change anything.

Needless to say, I got so freaked out I had to immediately change plans, and hop on my bike, and ride the entire way back to the bowels of fucking Brooklyn. Finally. The best part is that I was frying my nuts off and was quite drunk and stoned also. It took me maybe forty-five minutes to ride the six+ miles. How's that for endorphins? Work it out.

MORALITY REPORT: Please, everyone out there, do not ride your bike, your car, your motorcycle, whatever, when you are wasted. It is super dangerous and really dumb. And really, I'm a huge believer in doing whatever the fuck you want as long as you are not putting other people in harm's way, and that is it exactly what you do when doing stupid shit like that. Riding across the bridge all whacked out and shit was pretty awesome though.

an excerpt from a letter I received two nights ago from my ex-lover/why i totally suck

the party was really really fun until I left without saying goodbye. I am going to do laundry this morning, after I burn some sage.

"if you intend to make a scene and throw things around and kick doors until they are falling of their hinges, I cannot be around you. If you cannot find a place to be calm when you are around me, we cannot be friends. I understand you are let down and disappointed with me but you have no right to behave with me as you did today. I never ever deserved this sort of treatment and I do not deserve to be treated this way now. I will not allow our interactions to ruin another event."

an excerpt from a letter I just wrote my ex-lover/why i hate crystal meth

"I don't know why I am writing this. I already know it won't change anything in your life, or between us. Maybe this is just a letter to make myself feel better, to know that I have tried to help... but it's not my responsibility, as much as I wish it were. I know that I either have to accept you as how you are because that is never going to change, or move on. Either option sucks so much and the thought of either has made me burst into tears. I hate thinking that I'm going to lose you first as a boyfriend, and then as a friend because it hurts me too much (which then turns to irrational anger) to see you destroy yourself, but do I have any other options? NO."

I Found a New Way to Have Pork

I read this article a few months back in the Wednesday Times Food section:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/16/dining/16ital.html?n=Top/Reference/Times%20Topics/Subjects/F/Food

In preparing a delightful summer pasta I came across the exact secret ingredient, guanciale, that they were talking about in that article.

I made a really delicious pasta with braised chicken thighs, guanciale, summer vegetables and herbs, and a bit of parmigiano tonight. It will be just as good cold tomorrow.

I feel so happy now that I don't really remember being anything BUT a happy person brimming with ideas I can't wait to execute.

Moving into a new space, having space of my own--a fucking HOME--has been the most amazing thing to happen to me in so long.

To those of you reading, we're on the home stretch now!!!

The Nicest Thing Anyone Has Ever Said to Me

"Your ass is the genetic equivalent of a twelve inch dick."

Something Very Important

I've realized that I'm taking cymbalta for a reason... If I go off it, I go completely nutty. It happened to me again in the past month. I was really depressed anyway and figured that if I stopped taking it maybe I'd get my sex drive back at least, but instead I was subject to wild mood swings--from bad to worse. I didn't want to write about it, nor did I talk to friends about it, family; I isolated myself as best I could. I realized I was reaching an all-time low and thoughts were entering my head that never had before. I have a great lesbian therapist and that combined with resuming the cymbalta seemed to help, or rather, I woke up one day and decided to attract positive energy again. PHEW! More later. I'm trying to get to bed after such a crazy, wild weekend (I will post stories soon) but I can't stop thinking. I can barely keep my eyes open but my brain is wide awake. As usual. I keep trying to tell myself I control my brain, not the other way around, but the brain seems to be winning tonight...

OK I'm Feeling Better Now

I've had a great weekend. I have had tons of sex in the past week. All of it was fantastic. I had not had great sex since January. It's pretty great. I feel motivated enough to start pursuing my dreams again. WOO!

One of my Greatest Fears

Is that I'm boring. This was confirmed today when I last minute canceled a plan to go to a big radical faerie gathering for May Day which takes place on one of their compounds, Short Mountain in Tennessee. Maybe I am secretly boring, and I just go-go dance and turn tricks and do porn and work in fashion and art to make myself more interesting, and once all my friends figure this out, and also that I am pure evil on the inside trying to be nice on the outside, they will hate me along with the rest of the world.

It's one of those days. It's been a while since I've had one this severe.

It's raining. I want it to be sunny and pretty.

TONIGHT: THE OFFICIAL RELEASE PARTY OF SQUEEZEBOX THE MOVIE

This is a busy weekend for me... I will be go go dancing here tonight as well, and the getup will be a little more trashy punk rock n roll glam whore than what we're used to these days... Damon Demarco is coming over beforehand and we're doing each other's smoky eye.

TONIGHT: THE COCK & RENTBOY

SAVE THE DATE: This Thursday, April 24th--Rentboy's Hodown at the Cock

I Had Pork Six Ways Today

1.  In a BLT, and A on whole wheat with mustard, mayonnaise, red onion.

2.  The cubes of bacon in the sauteed bok choy.

3.  The Canadian ham wrapping the Mayan prawns.

4.  The Berkshire pork belly in the ramen.

5.  The Berkshire pork neck in the ramen.

6.  The pork broth of the ramen.

SATURDAY, April 26th

Best Week Ever

So far this week, I have had tacos EVERY day, I got a new tattoo, and my new mattress was delivered.   AMAZING.  I upgraded from full to queen (insert joke here) and splurged on a Tempur-Pedic® Deluxe.  Fucking hell.  I've never been in a more comfortable bed (besides the celebrity bed and the ultimate bed, at $3500 and $6000 respectively).  AND it has a twenty year warranty.  I am so stoked!  I feel alert and fresh this morning (last night was my first night sleeping with my bed--notice I say sleeping WITH my bed, not ON my bed.  Such is the magic of Tempur-Pedic®.

I Keep Missing

therapy, which is troubling. The other day, I showed up for therapy five minutes early. I was very proud of myself. My habit of being late for everything is one of the reasons why I'm there, late. In any case, I arrive five minutes early. I wait for a bit, fall asleep for an hour, wake up, and realize it's WEDNESDAY not THURSDAY. The next week, and I shit you not, I forget it's Thursday, and think it's Wednesday and miss it again. At my next session, we decided I would set a weekly alarm on my iPhone so I wouldn't forget. The next week I remembered when the alarm went off, vibrating my toe and making me giggle as I lay on my rooftop on a blanket soaking up the sun and huge bong tokes. I was forty minutes late, so I had to reset my weekly alarm forty minutes earlier. It now goes off at 4:31PM, Thursdays.

Mark Your Calendar: I'm Dancing at the Cock Tonight, April14th, "Twin Cheeks"

I just got asked to dance at the Cock tomorrow night, 29 2nd Ave in NYC... Stop by and say hi and tip me a $10 or $20. My buddy, DJ Josh Sparber will be spinning the tunes, I will be on top of the bar starting 1am doing dirty things.

March 24

I woke up and turned a trick, then met my ex-boyfriend for an amazing lunch at the Spotted Pig. We shared deviled eggs, a dozen oysters, a fried duck egg and bacon salad, and pan fried calves liver with crispy pancetta, all washed down with a couple pints of speckled hen beer. I started crying during the calves liver because he left me. Then we shared a cheese plate. Then I went home and cried some more, slept off some of my food coma, and got ready to meet my best girlfriend and her boyfriend for dinner at Blue Ribbon Bakery. We toasted over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot and proceeded to share a dozen oysters, steamed clams, roasted whole garlic, roasted chorizo, and a green bean salad, and I followed that with some sweetbreads with a grilled onion compote and fennel and herb salad. This was followed by ordering every dessert off the menu and a nice cognac. After that, I ran home, douched myself clean and met a trick that wanted to be fisted. I fisted him and fucked him, then fisted and fucked him, then he fucked me, then I fisted him, then he fucked me till he came, apologizing that he usually lasted longer. Then I went home and to bed, by myself. Happy Birthday.

Hey Y'all

Yes. It is me. I have decided to write again, mostly because I was described as a porn star and blogger recently in an email blast. I have been thinking about writing again (it seems that it is more interesting for all parties involved to write this thing when I'm single, so here goes, starting with my birthday, in which I turned 27. CRAP. This year I decided my (Cory's) birthday was March 27. The Cory generally known as someone else's birthday is March 24. Let's start with March 24th, shall we?

Pics from SPIT Last Night

To Those of you who made it, thanks so much!  I hope you had as much fun as I did.  To those who didn't make it, here is some of what you missed.  It was hard to control myself around such a sexy bear!!!  PS can you tell I'm totally tripping in the photos?  Christ.  Plushie woke up with such a hangover he could barely move.  Word of advice:  well tequila shots and mushrooms DO NOT mix.


Special thanks to Peter Lau, Paul Short, Andy and Patrick at Dirty Boy Video, Uncle Ming's, Menelik and the hot straight bartender in the jockstrap and bunny tail, Mike Smart, Mike Grimes, and Mark Jacobs as the sexiest chipmunk I've ever laid eyes on.  Mark, when do you return the suit?

SPIT Wednesday Night, January 23rd PLUSHIE SCHWARTZ

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For Those of You That Didn't Make it to "HoDown" by rentboy.com at the Cock Last Thursday. . .

This is some of what you missed. That's Carlos Morales and me on the bartop doing our thang, before we did each other's things. I kid, I kid, or am I?

STEVE CRUZ, My Long Lost Gay Brother

did the best interview on me EVER. Check it out. . .

Rentboy's "HoDown!" at the Cock

This is super late to post but I'm dancing at the Cock again in approximately three hours for Rentboy's "HoDown!" I have no idea why they asked me to do dance for this particular party. I kid, I kid. I have some very exciting news to tell y'all about but I'll wait until tomorrow.

TONIGHT! SUNDAY at the Cock

If you're out and about stop by the Cock on 2nd Ave and 2nd St and say hello. I go on around 1am.

To Fill Everyone In on Recent Events Part I

I went to SF to shoot a porn. Very succesful I must say. Jake Deckard is my favorite porn star ever. Next to me. He directed our scene, "our" being Tober Brandt's and mine. Tober is my second favorite porn star ever. It was literally the most laid-back shoot I've ever had. We laughed and joked the whole time, plus I got a major leg workout, OH and my hole worked over. Shocking, I know. The rest of my trip was really great. I met some really quality people, more quality people than I met when I lived there, actually. Funny how that works. Can't wait for the movie to come out, and y'all shouldn't be able to wait either. It's hot!!! Pics to follow. . .

HARRY POTTER SUCKS

My ass looks like the face of someone ugly.

Did I mention the bug bites my ass accrued whilst in the Hamptons two weeks ago? They look even better now on my white ass. They're almost the same color as my red fucking thighs and back. Who wants to bet that I'll wake up with a hemorrhoid tomorrow?

(Finally) It's Happened to Me

I was in my mom's backyard today sunning myself reading the new Harry Potter book and lost track of time. My tan is so fierce until I turn around, exposing a red red red back and for the first time in my life, red red red red motherfucking thighs. The small bikini protected my ass. I am going to look so funny on film. NOT THE LOOK two days before your comeback porno.

I used to quietly pride myself on being an atypical porn star. I'd secretly laugh at the guys with Hitler moustache pubeys and bright red skin from the tanning bed. I bought a body trimmer two days ago when I was at Target with my mom (HOW GAY) and now this. . . All I can ask now is

1. When are my steroids going to kick in?

2. When will I do my first fisting movie?

3. When will I do my first bareback movie?

Those are the only two I mean three things that can happen at this point, right?

4. Where will my first large tribal piece be located?

So I was wrong. Let's think here, there must be other, funnier things I left out.

5. ??? Help me out dear readers. . .

Bakersfield Gay Bar UPDATE

I am already feeling smothered by the texts that said trick is sending me.

Bakersfield Gay Bar

Lesbians go out so much more in small towns. PS I'm back home now. I went to a gay bar last night and it was mainly lesbethnic. So hot. And they come in packs. Also, I never realized that they came in so many different sizes. There'd be a group of girls, all looking like Da Brat, and they would range it height from 6'0" to 4'11", I shit you not, and there would be five of them, all dressed like Da ("All juiced up/that comes naturally") Brat.

The music was pure, unadulterated, guilty pleasure hip hop and pop. The lesbians ground like nothing I've seen before. I was extremely disappointed that none of the janky trannies did runway.

There was slim pickings for me, but the bartender I used to hump was still bartending. My sister found the two straight guys in the bar (some things run in the family), her boyfriend set me up with the hottest guy there, and we went back to my sister's to hang out, drink dirty martinis, smoke Marlboro Reds and pot, skinny dip, whirlpool bath, and discover that the hottest guy in the bar I brought home not only had a dirty ass (but a cute one), but a teeny tiny dick. Recounting the events to my boyfriend (I mean ex) today, he asked me why I didn't check his dick at the bar, like I usually do.

Today, I Realized Two Things

If I were straight I'd totally go for extreme blondes (as I did when I dated girls). Some things don't change.

I am a total fucking tramp.

So Exciting!!!

I am working my ass off daily before I leave for California. And I got dumped. I promptly changed the date of a big shoot I had today to tomorrow. OH, and I had to style it and cast the seven girls (one has been shot, fresh faces story) too. This has barely left me any time to mourn over being dumped, or get fucked repeatedly. JUST KIDDING!!! Can't wait to see my family.

Maybe I Should Try Being Nice to People Who Love Me

I pissed the shit out of my boyfriend. Again. He dumped me over the phone. At 9am. As I was waking up with a hangover.

TACOS!!!

I wanted a taco for lunch today but they stopped making them at 4pm. I got a salad instead. It was gross and not fulfilling.

Also, a coworker and I were discussing how we share the same john. He's a bit creepy. Surprise.

I Look Like One of Them Now

And it gets me laid more often.

My Idea is Your Idea

This has never happened to me but apparently it's really common:

You tell someone an idea. Lay it out for them. In detail. And then they spout it back at you, verbatim, like it's theirs.

You think, "Maybe they're just retarded."

You call and leave a detailed voicemail for them about something. For instance, "Hey dude, let's move the shoot to next week, there's a 50% chance of rain tomorrow and I don't want to chance it. If we could move it to Monday or Tuesday that would work really well for me. Let me know if that works for you. Sorry about this, just want to be safe rather than sorry."

The phone call back is this: "Hey dude, so I hear it's going to rain tomorrow. I think we should move the shoot. How about next week? Monday or Tuesday? Are you around? Is this OK? I just don't want the shoot to be rained out tomorrow. Better safe than sorry, right?"

Right. In these situations, as my boyfriend has told me, all you can do is say yes, and smile because you're getting everything you wanted.

Dirty Italians

So I'm go-go dancing at Big Lug some Saturdays ago. This very hot, small, furry furry furry Italian guy is eyeing me and being very direct and forward. He's hot, I'm getting hot, I say, wait till my boyfriend gets here. The boyfriend gets there. He realizes that, SURPRISE! it's the guy he was flirting with last night that kept on saying, "Wait till you see my boyfriend."

Needless to say, we take him back home. We do it. Like mad. Everyone's dick is in everyone's ass and mouth, one or two at a time. And it's protected. Shocking.

Fast forward. Monday. Trying to arrange some fun for the BF and me. We have two separate appearances we could make. I get back from appointments, he says, "Honey, I think we have the clap."

Today. Get call from doctor. Sure enough, it's not only the clap, but Chlamydia too. Fucking Hell. Those tourists!!!

The best is that maybe ten days prior to this, I had gotten a full screening and was totally clean. Dirty Italians.

First STD since I moved to NYC, and that was over three years ago. What s more shocking, that I didn't have an STD for three years, or that I got it from a Dirty Italian?

Don't I Know You?

Walking down 8th Ave to get a cup of coffee at a coffee shop other than Starbuck's today, I realized that all gay men look the same. I come to this realization every day at least twice. Sometimes, I pretend like I know everyone that looks like someone I think I might know, or have met, because I can't really tell the difference between people I know, people I've met, and people I think I know. Sometimes, I ignore them all and you know what? Either way, I don't think any of us notice a difference.

WHOA

I'm not sure quite why I feel like writing this again. Maybe it's because I'm revving up to start doing porn again. Maybe it's because I had raucus, dirty, hot sex all weekend with my hot boyfriend and others. Maybe I'm truly becoming comfortable in my skin (at least MORE comfortable). Or maybe I just want more attention.

I'm tired. Have a boner. Sore ass. I learned something last night. Expect a sore ass if you're going to do the whole "get fucked by a huge nicely curved thick cock with absolutely no lube or spit" trick. Yeah. Didn't realize, for some reason, that that could hurt. I guess every other time I've done it my ass has already been a little greasy already. Maybe it was just slimey with discharge. I kid, I kid!!!

To bring things up to date for all you kiddies who have been awaiting my return to blogland, I still live in New York City. I still work in fashion, but I am doing much more freelance. It is going well. I am building my name up, and no, that name is not Cory. I started working part time at a clothing shop in Chelsea just because I didn't feel like I was working enough. I am also dancing occasionally. I think it might be a good idea if I start posting when I'll be dancing around the 'hood so y'all can stop by and GIVE ME MONEY cuz I'm still broke.

I still have lots of free jeans. More than ever, actually. It's a bit scary. Freaks my boyfriend out. Would sell them on ebay but I'm not responsible enough to think for a second that I am able to ship things in a timely manner, so I've been thinking about selling things at a consignment store, but once again, don't think I'm responsible enough to consign (???). I've got a lot of sneakers too. And more!!! Thanks for all the suggestions.

I have a new boyfriend. He's amazing. The others pale in comparison. I think he is the reason that I'm getting comfortable with my big ol' slutty self again, finally. We're very compatible. We've been together for over a year now, and that is actually the longest I've gone without breaking up and getting back together on and on etc. Or at least breaking up for more than a day. You know what I mean More on him later, but you must know he gets so many kudos for sticking with me despite my, ahem, Sybil moments.

I'm still one of the most difficult people I know. Supposedly I'm worth it. So I've been told.

I miss me!

Free Jeans

This is what I have to look forward to in life: Free Jeans. As I work at a magazine, and as I work in fashion, I basically work for free. As a fashion editor, though, the perks are free things, commonly referred to as swag by everyone else but me. These things, this shit, as I like to call it, consist of but are not limited to, XL t-shirts (hi, faggot fashion editors are not XL), rapper alarm clocks, ugly shoes, canvas tote bags, small bottles of new PREMIUM liquor, and last but not least, Free Jeans. I get so many goddamned jeans I could clothe fucking Africa in original selvedge ringspun Japanese denim. Most of them look the same, too, and strangely, jeans in the $100-$200 range are much nicer than jeans in the $300-$500 range, which consist mostly of such hand-finished details as hand-painted whiskers, hand-stitched back pockets, embroidered bullshit, resin coating, hand-painted whiskers ON TOP of 3-D whiskers, hand-sanding, hand-holing, and hand-balling (FUCK YEAH! [oh that's a joke BTW]). Today, I got a free pair of jeans AND an XL electric blue pima cotton t-shirt. And tonight, after the parties I'll probably have an additional free pair of pumps! Throw this in and a salary that amounts to barely above minimum wage, and you get a grumpy ass man. As I was telling a cute, yet not so smart friend of mine, "I literally make my salary a year in free shit."

"Coooool!" he replied.

"No, not cool dude, I make less than my rent a month."

"Oh dude, sorry. So what do you do with all that free stuff?"

Satan

So I'm going down in an elevator in Midtown, and this woman gets on at the next floor, one of those New York ladies, please excuse my Californian ignorance but she could have been from Jersey, Queens, Long Island, they all kinda sound the same to me, she's this kind of permed, acrylic manicured, yet jogging suit, plastic furniture, and macrame plant holder holding carefully tended geraniums type of lady, but not so much that she's fantastic, really, just an ordinary lady, who happens to be checking me out, head to toe, shirt, pants, shoes, hair, facial hair, eyes, eyebrows, scowl, bulge, tilt the head and try to get an outline of the ass, tilt the head more to fully stare at tattoos. After a while of this, and of me staring straight at her wondering why the fuck she's looking at me like this with some weird glazed expression of happiness, and why her head is so tilted and so fixated on my arm, probably wondering about that devil holding a bichon frise number on my right forearm, her face registers an epiphany of sorts. Nineteen floors to go.

"You're goin' for that devil look, aren'tcha?" she asks me, satisfied.

I make out a fickle chuckle and mumble "Uh huh," confusedly. I am in the elevator with a work person that I just met, trying to be polite and pleasant.

"Well, it LOOKS GOOD. Lookin' good," she smiles, even more satisfied.

I was slightly offended at first; my demeanor softened considerably after she paid me this compliment.

So Reactionary

I hate and love it when people leave comments. I always think that they should leave their opinions to themselves, but I guess I shouldn't be particularly entitled to have one either then. I should be a dictator. That's the only way I could be happy I think. So what kind of typical mid twenties shit is that, motherfuckers? ? ?

This is Really Hard for Me Now

I just don't want to write about my life. I'm afraid it's because I'm ashamed of it, even though from a typical moral viewpoint my life is least shameful now than it's ever been. I don't want you to know what's going on inside my head or am I just projecting?

Every Time I Say I Resume Posting. . .

I don't! However, now that I'm not as exhibitionistic in my real life, I figure it's time to be somewhat exhibitionistic in my faux life, especially since I haven't done any movies in a while.

As some of you may know, although I don't know how any of you would know, I'M BORING NOW. I got back together with my ex that I had so many lovely things to write about in the past, well, not write about, but reference, I suppose. I moved back in, and we built a walk-in closet and he's talking about getting a dog. I'm thinking about subscribing to Martha Stewart. I read Gourmet every month. I've dabbled with raw foods. Now instead of cruising the internet for sex, I cruise Design Within Reach for lighting solutions. I think, "Moving to New Jersey wouldn't be bad, it's only fifty minutes away from the city by train, and I could have a big garden where I could grow nasturtiums, bearded irises, maybe some heirloom tomato varietals. I'm thinking about partial castration.

I work, although I make no money working. It's very odd, to be legit now, and to work more, and get less. So annoying.

I go-go dance once a week so I don't feel too square. Sometimes I don't go into work until noon.

I try to stay away from dairy.

I have a gut.

Soymilk doesn't taste as good as whole milk to me.

I wear the same black stretch jeans every day.

I have a mullet.

I eat lots of granola, sometimes with soymilk, sometimes with sheepsmilk yogurt.

Sometimes I eat sheepsmilk yogurt with raw cashews, almonds, pumpkin seeds, a bit of pure maple syrup, sprouted flax seeds, and a quick grate of fresh nutmeg. Nothing really beats the aromatic qualities of fresh-ground nutmeg. It's also essential on bolognese sauce.

Explanation/Don't Call it a Comeback

It's been a while since I've written anything here, but I've been busy, and I've been doing a lot of thinking, as I will explain. I've had some life changes (scientology, sobriety, celibacy [fuck, I love alliteration, it's my one of my favorites]) and then I woke up and realized that nope, it's still the same ol' me.

To make long, boring stories less long and less boring, I'll just sum things up quickly: I believe that me writing this blog has hurt my career in porn and as a performer. I have mentioned names in this blog and given my opinions about things that other people have taken out of context and used against me. I read an article about a woman who worked as a beauty editor at a magazine and had a blog (anonymous, mind you, not like this one where my name [name?] is all over it) where she wrote some things about the beauty/fashion/magazine industry, and when people found out who she was, guess what happened? That's right folks, she was fired! Fortunately, for me, as a freelance porn model, I can't really get fired from anything, especially since my fifteen minutes is over and there are no upcoming offers, but I believe that if it wasn't over before now, it is now. I have, on this blog, never set out to hurt anyone or defame any names, let alone my own, and I feel I have done that, and foolishly so. I am not proud of that. In short, I've underestimated what written words can do, much like I've underestimated what starring in gay fuck films can do. I think I have inadvertently burned some bridges. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, and I've tried not to dwell on it as it probably won't be very significant one way or the other.

Now that I have that off my chest, I would like to set the record straight about Raging Stallion. For any of you that have taken any of my posts as depicting Raging Stallion in a less than rosey light, let me tell you that of all the companies I've worked for, I can say that I've enjoyed working with them the most, and I mean that. I feel that they have taken a chance with me that no other studio has been willing to do. I've always had a great time making movies with them, and I think they've showcased me the best. My favorite movies are all Raging Stallion. I have a personal aesthetic that is very strong and very important to me. I've always said that my top three attributes (in no specific order) are my eyes, my ass and my hair. That's all. I wouldn't have liked it if I had to put fake colored contacts or if they made me seat on a wicker chair naked before a scene either.

I think I have cleared all that up now. Now, I have to say that we all need to take this a little less seriously. I write everything tongue in cheek, with a SENSE OF HUMOR. It's meant to be a joke. Cory Koons is a personality, not a person. Cory likes to have a piss take. He likes to push people's buttons. He's obnoxious, a little annoying at times. He's a total sex pig pervert. He likes to have a good time. He's not a drug addict my any means. He's not insensitive or mean or bitchy or racist or stupid at all. He's pretty fucking smart, he just has a strong opinion about things that generally differ from other peoples'. His point of departure isn't Jenna Jameson or Jeff Stryker, but Jeff Koons or fuck I don't know, ask him.

So, nice to be back, assholes! Hope ya missed me! Plus, my life has been so crazy that I have to talk about it to someone, somewhere, and it's not like I have any friends I haven't alienated already! ! !

I had such an eventful week, I don't know where to start

So much happened last week that I honestly don't even know where to start. I feel like last week really announced the return of Cory Koons, even though I'm thinking about renaming him Corky Goons. Last week was one of those hyperactive, busy as hell, about to fall over and die, totally lose it, coming down with a cold, wearing five hats, working during the day and in nightclubs, etc. Crazy it was. I started to snap. And I'm sure that you can all imagine that me snapping is no small thing nor is it very pleasant for those involved. So upsetting. OK, I lie, it wasn't upsetting. It felt great, every single person that gave me a reason, forced me to lose my temper, IT FELT AMAZING. I really wish I did it more often. Just thinking about it now makes me hope that the dry cleaning fucked up my Alexander Mcqueen sweater. I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. . .