I am an Addict

Maybe you have guessed I am head over heels in love currently.  My mind is literally exploding with lightning bolt idea after idea.  My lover has left town for work for a few weeks, so I will hopefully be able to execute them all in this time.

I  am returning to my art roots.  He is an artist.  We will make art together.  I have a dream again. 

And of course, it has made me conflicted about my porn career, which seems like it will be taking off again very shortly.  Shocking, right, since I tend to be a total uncompromising (in my morals) bad-ass?

I am making love again.  I forgot how amazing it is.  It's like having sex fucked up on crystal or crack.  I guess this is what is conflicting me:  My sexuality feels so BRIGHT right now, but it seems like male sexuality is becoming increasingly darker and darker.

 I do not equate hot sex with worshiping Satan.  I do not think my cum is the seed of Satan.  I guess part of it is that I do not believe in, well, um, ANY organized religion, but why can't my cum be the sweet nectar that unicorns like to lap up? 

I am aware I have a tattoo of Satan on my arm, but in my world Satan is a very dapper gentleman, perhaps a little fey, and he loves bichon frises. 

Here's a pic of me sucking his big fat dick (as if you had to ask).  It curves a bit up, is wider than it is deep, if that makes sense, and every time I choke on it, get it down my throat, tears streaming, throat slime everywhere, he makes these adorable noises like he can't even believe people can deep throat his dick like that.  And I'm sweating and gagging and gnawing on it with my molars, he kisses me and sucks the spit and precum out of my mouth and spits it back in mine, and it is so sweet and tender
and loving.  I think I'm going to paint it. 

All That!

And I barely got any extra attention!  WAH.  I guess I'll crawl into my bed where my lover lies sleeping.

My Baby Blanket

photo by Paul Sepuya

The Bubble Burst

I find myself practically in a relationship, in love against better judgment, with a boy.  

Shoot went well.  Apparently, I am like a "breath of fresh air."

We had our first lil' tiff, if you want to call it that, tonight.

My boy started complaining how his millionaire father doesn't give him enough money.  I mentioned maybe his dad should have died when he was eight so he could live off the life insurance (until it runs out your sophomore year of college)/(so your mom can buy a new house and promptly move in the boyfriend you hate and the boyfriend's son you hate even more, but the boyfriend's son has a dick, and he wants you to suck it, so you do because you are eleven and hot and horny and it is all you can get.  When you are not sucking your dick you are trying to make his head catch on fire or at least implode... layers of skin fall off to reveal mucles and tendons falling off to reveal bones and joints and...  SLUGS?  THAT IS WHAT WAS UNDERNEATH THERE?  SLUGS?) money, until it runs out before it is convenient for it to run out. 

I started doing that thing that one should never do.  What would my life be like now if my dad had never died.  I would be gay, that is for sure...  but I'm not sure if I would have pushed my boundaries of gayness as far as I did.  I don't think I would have pushed myself so far in any way.  It's so weird to understand my father never heard me play my sax (I studied with a jazz saxophonist for about ten years...  he wanted me to carry on the legacy of old jazz masters like himself) or bassoon (my bassoon teacher, the studio bassoonist for Disney, told me once of a fifteen year old girl [I was sixteen, and slacking hard] who was performing a bassoon concerto.  He told me that I had more musicality in my right pinkie than she had in her entire body and it killed him to know she was getting a concerto and I was fucking my talent away when clearly my future lied in the realm of bassoon, and I should quit sax, quit sports, and devote the rest of my life to this dying art--bassson is considered one of the most difficult instruments to master.  They are as expensive as luxury automobiles, have wait lists, and the craftsmanship of something as simple as a double reed could take a lifetime to master), and I really thought that was where my life was headed until I was sixteen and my house burned down at 4am, my father's birthday...  just a few hours before I was to catch the train to go to all-state honor choir (I was a 2nd bass, and had scored highest from my school.  My voice doesn't really sound good, but my perfect pitch, ability to sight read, transpose keys, etc. but me at a serious advantage).  I gave everything that had to do with music up.  It was not my thing.

Neither was the ridiculously delicious food I was learning to cook, with the opportunity to learn the business of owning a restaurant from the inside out.  It was not my thing. 

I don't even want to talk about the fashion thing.  The dude that moved me to NYC and I decided it was better for me to quit my fierce restaurant jobs and gigs around time as the hot new piece of ass in NYC nightlife to assist him.  That lead to an old, dear, dear friend from Berkeley/restaurant days working at a magazine to get me to intern for that magazine.  Six months later I was hired as Fashion Market Editor, with no experience, no college education, no nothing.  Just.  Something.  I was believed in.  I don't know.  I guess I've had a lot of daddies.  A year later, I'm working with people I idolized when I was a kid and they are asking my opinion about their fashion line; I'm fast on my way to becoming HOT SHIT.  It was not my thing.

If my dad had been there and forced me not to give up, would I have, every time, for either fear of success or fear of failure?

Would my mom still be in the same fucking hopeless threadbare relationship with the same fucking asshole that I still fucking hate (let's not forget his disgusting hairdresser date-raping son)?

Would my sister's husband have killed himself ("this is because of you, bitch [BANG]")? 

Would I have become an HIV+ escort, go-go boy, stripper, and future bareback porn star for the good part of a decade? 

I'M AN ARTIST GODDAMNIT!

Everyone has it.  It's what you make of it, right?

Just for the record, I think I would have ended up owning a successful chain of old-school pharmacies/ soda counter with treats/variety/gift stores, on the lower end, and on the higher end completely changing the way western medicine looks at prescription drugs and drug companies and their role in our continued/future illnesses, after a stint as a symphony musician/cool cat in a jazz band.  At the very least I would have graduated college.

I love you Frankie.  I am not completely sure why, but I don't think I need to know yet. 

If this doesn't work out I will still love you.  I refuse to begin loving anything that I may regret loving/not love in the future.  That is not worth it for me.  If we stop being active lovers, know I still love you all the same.

Is this what I'm really trying to say?

Love is eternal?

Preparation: Meat Scrunchy

It was quite possibly the biggest dick I've ever seen.  I took it like a champ.  Last time I'm having sex or ejaculating before my scene tomorrow.  My mind can rest knowing that my ass can take A LOT.  I forget sometimes there is a reason why I am considered a powerbottom. 

Post-Gym-Time

It's gettin' there...

I Make the Porn

Got a shoot coming up this Saturday for a studio I've never worked for.  Got a shoot coming up Monday for a studio I worked for once but I was only like fist #14 or something.  Exciting, no, that I make the porn?

"Being sleazy is having the ability and the willingness to become whatever is necessary to get what you want. Or, conversely, to somehow make whomever you're with into whatever you want — or need. It implies a very basic malleability of selfhood, a flexibility of identity that's less depersonalizing than it is repeatedly repersonalizing. Take what you're given and make it work. This is the exercise of sleaze."

Christopher Rage

Bad Hair...

great fucking.

That is the title to a post I was writing in reference to my hairstyle in Manplay-17, but I can't figure out how to embed the video here so fuck it.  Hey guys guess what I am having special feelers for someone and right now it's at the point I feel I need to tranquilize myself a little bit just to stand it!!!

That's not really what I'm here to talk about.  I have decided to grow some balls and accept things might be discussed in a bad way but in the end I have to stay true to myself, my character and my self-expression.

I want to be a bad-ass in love.
The inclination is already there.
If there is reciprocation by another bad-ass, even better. 

I was talking to a friend about doing an anonymous cum-dump type of scene, and I said it was not my cup of tea, but I could imagine doing it if I had a lover that was really into it and got turned on by whoring my hole out indiscriminately...  which I immediately said was weird.  My friend asked why it was weird to want someone to look out for you.  I couldn't come up with a good answer.

Everything You Do

Should be done with conviction and confidence. 

The only times you make a misstep are when you think twice where you are stepping.

I realized something tonight:  I have lost the capacity to miss people.  Do we actually lose the ability to feel certain emotions or do we cast them aside when it suits us?  Selective hearing.  This may be redundant but I don't miss missing. 

What do you do when your emotions become a highly efficient angerconverter and any emotion that pops up in you end up expressing itself PISSED OFF?  What if you get part of your strength from your anger, your beast, your self-proclaimed worst enemy, and the world is going to end and only you can save it but you aren't sure if you have the strength and the advice you seek tells you IT IS NOT ENOUGH and to save the world you must embrace your worst enemy and let it become an even bigger part of you? 

If you were Buffy, you'd totally refuse to demonize your heart and soul, bust out of the chains, fight off the old ancient black dudes, and come back to reality thanks to a hot lesbian best friend, only to realize that it is not enough. 

Following this new train of Buffy-thought I have a vision of a hot lesbian witch casting a spell that causes all present and future powerbottoms  to release their full powers all at once... to an all-powerful metaphallus that won't know what it is hitting.   

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And from the looks of your last few weeks' of postings, it looks like the sort of boners you're chasing are the slimy, tattooed, drugged-out, unprotected & poz kind... which, I think we're all in agreement on, you should most-definitely be avoiding!

Slimy, tattooed, drugged-out, unprotected...  are you talking about me?  I've been chasing myself!  Holy fuck!  I've been at the edge of this river for weeks!!! 

new projects

are in the air.  I've been going back and forth (in my head, but not really....  a moment of talking myself out of it here and there) but all it takes is a look at a picture and the reality of it all and I get a boner, and is a boner so bad?

"My fantasy involves two consenting adults well aware of the risks. I can't help that as a neg vers/top I am turned on by the thought of taking a load from a hot poz guy. Can I ask you a hypothetical question? If both parties are aware that the top is poz and the bottom willingly takes the load does it still make it wrong? I just thought that since you have a 'piggy' side you would at least appreciate my fantasy."

Ink Storm with Tober Brandt

This was the second to last scene I shot.

Corey Koon Wrestles!!!

And does me proud. Who would like to see me wrestle?

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So Many Things

I wish I could say here... But I can't. I do not know what is stopping me. Nothing can be worse than what is already assumed about me. So what stops me? Pride? Fear that I will have a worse reputation, that any guy I go on a date with will read the blog and be immediately terrified? People already think I'm shady, but if I didn't hold anything back, well, everyone would think I am shady.

It's amazing how many guys are so freaked out by me before they even meet me. Lately I seem to be torturing myself be being attracted to lil' scruffy tattooed boys in their twenties that live in Brooklyn--a close approximation to myself--yet they are all really cautious and weary of my charms. I do not feel like I am part of my generation. There is certain conformist mentality I see rising up in the young gays, a strive towards hetero-normative ideas and morals, and I do not like it.

I don't think I'm a monster, nor do I think I'm shadier than most. I am just honest about my shadiness and I own it, and that is my problem. It becomes increasingly more difficult to stay honest when I know everyone is lying around me.

Why am I being such a bummer today? I'm actually in a good mood.

Since you guys seem to like porn clips of me... I will look for more out there. They are all really old... I like it that some of you read this without knowing any of my video work. It's cute. OK BYE

Back When I was Famous

check this out...  HIGHlarious.  I just watched it for the first time last night.  I seem so...energetic.  In the unrated version I get doused with everyone's piss...  ChiChi just about had a conniptions when I was started peeing in my mouth and everyone else was pissing on my asshole.  Funny thing is I'm not really into watersports.  I guess I say that about everything and then I go home with a hot guy and drink his pee.  So basically I'm a liar to myself.

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.

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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