audentes fortuna iuvat

On this day in 1969 the following happened:

> The first Teacher’s Day in Thailand was celebrated
> National Religious Freedom Day in the United State
> Two manned Soviet Soyuz spaceships became the first vehicles to dock in space and transfer personnel.

The gestures were appreciated, but most people just sent a card or flowers to my family to commemorate my birth. My parents were touched, particularly by the thing with the Russians – but then I can trace some of my heritage back to Tsarist Nobility, so they probably felt they should do something.

I am not quite sure what the Americans were up to. Perhaps they expected a religion to be founded around me. It hasnt happened so far, apart from that thing in Algiers, and I am not sure that counts.

A year later for my first birthday Colonel Muammar Gaddafi assumed the role of “Prime Minister” four months after leading a successful coup against the Lybian monarchy – which was nice don’t you think.

Festive, and an example of the universe being a zero sum game. I was suddenly in it and, after what was a pretty touch and go first year somewhat miraculously alive. There needed to be a counter balance of fashion free, rhythmless, domineering evil peversity to counter balance my shining beneficence.

It’s my birthday, let me live in a dreamland for today. Ok?

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WARNING: This is a work of fiction. Do NOT take it literally.

CONTENT ADVISORY: Contains verses descriptive of or advocating suicide, incest, bestiality, sadomasochism, sexual activity in a violent context, murder, morbid violence, use of drugs or alcohol, homosexuality, voyeurism, revenge, undermining of authority figures, lawlessness and human rights violations and atrocities.

EXPOSURE WARNING: Exposure to contents for extended periods of time or during formative years in children may cause delusions, hallucinations, decreased cognitive and objective reasoning abilities and in extreme cases, pathological disorders, hatred, bigotry and violence including, but not limited to fanaticism, murder and genocide.

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India and Albania are currently having a squabble over the remains of Mother Teresa – Nun, Nobel Laureate and perpetual Jan to Princess Diana’s Marcia.

Ok. EW!!!!

Lets face it. She’s been buried a while, so unless someone did a better job of embalming her than they did of Lenin, she is probably not it a particularly appealing state by now.

But its worse than just digging up a dead old lady*, because what this really comes down to is a squabble over tourism revenue. Follow me n this one.

Nun (now dead) did great things. Said dead Nun will turn 100 next August – well, it will be 100 years since she was born, but you know what I mean. She is likely to be made a saint, or canonised as they call it – which to be honest sounds to me like they will be shooting her out of a big gun. That can’t really be that respectful, or good for her. Even if she was alive it could be messy, but dead? Well lets just hope someone has some wet ones.

That aside, now Saint Said Dead Nun, will have a sea of god botherers coming to pray at her graveside, asking for her intervention with god in their ailments, problems, business ventures, gambling – you know, the usual thing people pray about. And here is where I feel the sandal hits the pavement.

Where you have pilgrims you have not only a bunch of people looking for answers outside themselves, rather than inside where the answers are much more likely to lie, you have retail opportunities.

I don’t recall anyone running forward arms outstretched to snatch the corpse of Said Dead Nun from India when there was just an expensive state funeral involved, but now there is an opportunity to sell tasteful things like Mother Teresa bobble heads, its all kicking off.

If Albania, who are making the fuss now, just want to honour Mother Teresa and pay respect to the things she did, where her dead bodies lies should not matter. Spend the money and the energy helping the poor, rather than having a diplomatic incident over it. Think about it for a second – what would SHE have wanted?

*are dead people still old?

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As we like to say back in the mother country, “Life’s a Beach”.

Sunshine, surprises, storms, warmth, tide pools, body surfing, tempests, naked swims together in the moonlight and solitary sunrises. The only thing about the sea, and the shore, there is always, always change.

Through what seems right now like a long life, there have been more adventures on the shore than I can name, or even rember with any ease. And there have been so many playmates and fellow travellers. Valued, no, treasured for their compainionship, leading me further astray, or pulling me babk when I needed it.

Walking along the shore of my life, and looking back, the sea has carried away almost all sign of my travels, leaving me with only echos, traces and my somewhat erratic recall. Not even my own tracks remain for that long.

And yet there are some footprints that seem to linger. Reminding me of stories, yet to happen, that want telling, if not in words, then in a least in how I walk from here.

Prints of foot steps yet to fall.

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I am feeling strangely impersonal, or disconnected today. This seems appropriate.

Some inconsequential prize to the first person who figures it out.

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I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dammit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine time goes to voicemail.

What’d you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?

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I have often felt like a square peg in a round hole. Sometimes that’s been a good thing, other times, not so much.

The thing that has always been clear to me, is not that I need to change my shape, or even find a square hole, it’s that I need to find a round space big enough to fit my pointy corners.

That’s why I live somewhere like London, and have such big hearted, smart, generous people as my friends and self chosen family.

Being a square peg in a round hole isn’t so bad, if you just have room to fit and freedom to move. If that’s the case, you both have space to be your own person, while still fitting together.

The soundtrack to this blog post is Beverley Knight – Square Peg

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After about 9 months of not finding time to fix the security issues with my blog, I have finally managed to get the thing, well if not fixed, then at least accessible. Lots of old features wont work in this new one, but things have changed a lot since 2005 when I first bought it online – so it was probably time for a refresh.

More to come soon, but for now – I am back.

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Babs, Mumsy and I hit the cocktail circuit the other night. Many Apple Martinis, a few beers and some of the Lucky Coqs fine pizzas later and I admitted to a/ being mildly smitten* over someone and b/ being ok with that. This got many titters from both of them since I have been something of a monk over the last year or so. This lead the conversation to what it was that had finally gotten my attention.

There are a few obvious things – handsome face, worked out masculine body, sense of humor – and Mr MakeMeSmitten has these (although he is younger than my usual prey base) but in fact it was some things he did and said that got my motor running. It was how he thinks.

So here is a quick list of things that get my attention 

• Don’t be afraid of your sexuality, or other peoples. Flirt back, even if you don’t plan to sleep with them
• Have friends who are different from you I age, race, gender, sexuality and body composition
• Read, listen to and/or watch the news from multiple sources
• Have strong opinions, be prepared to explain them and encourage others to do the same. Especially if there’s are different
• Be prepared to change your mind. Admit to it
• Smile at strangers
• Help old ladies cross the road
• Give flowers for no reason
• Sometimes cook with butter, oil and cream. They are delicious
• Write to your political representatives and express your opinion. And sometimes to thank them for doing their job
• Be gracious about your power. Your wealth or beauty is luck more than good management on your part
• Make mistakes, make amends and let others do the same
• Never give up loving someone, even when they don’t appear to deserve it
• Have lived in many countries and love to travel
• Travel to experience, not simply to tick boxes
• Be good at laundry, cause it aint my bag
• Hold hands because it feels good, not to make a fuss
• Fetishes are fun, not a lifestyle
• Sex as fun and laughter as more important than fucking
• Orgasms are great, but not the only end goal. And the other persons in more important than yours
• Tip waiters and thank bus drivers
• Never accept that your horizons are wide enough
• Believe in moderation in all things, mot especially moderation. Everyone should be a pig, a slut and a lush from time to time
• Consider driving a luxury, not an entitlement
• Recycle and use recycled products like toilet paper. You butt maybe pretty but it’s still shit
• Use green energy, because there will hopefully be future generations – even if we are not going to personally breed them
• Talk about problems, don’t hide from them. Believe you will be forgiven
• Want to teach as much as you want to learn
• Sing along with Kylie, and know the words
• Dance like you are Kylie, and yet remain masculine. The two are not mutually exclusive.
• Grooming is fine, but over grooming just kills it. Leave something to chance, its much sexier being yourself.
• Especially leave your eyebrows alone

This list certainly isn’t exhaustive, but its a good start and gives you an idea where my head is at.

* Its not going anywhere. He’s married, and unlike some people I could name, that is a barrier I am not willing to cross.

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Let me be clear. My current plan is to never have sex again. As unlikely as that sounds, and I freely admit that it is an extreme reaction to being what can only be described as betrayed, it is a position I am very comfortable with. At this point its just easier to draw a line under it and call it done.

Of course my friends like Hardware and Babs just roll their eyes and say “yeah yeah”, but for once I agree with some that just not thinking about it might be better.

Not having had sex, for what is actually quite a long time now, has brought some things up for me. Not the least of which was a short review of my indifference to porn.

Net result, porn still doesn’t do it for me. I think this is partially because I just know too many people in the films and I quite simply cannot suspend belief enough to see them as anything other than a mate (or in some cases a big girl). The main reason however is that I need to see and smell and touch and talk and laugh. Just seeing aint enough.

Another thing that all this abstinence has caused me to be aware of that to an extent I have always based some of my self esteem on guys finding me attractive. And of course a sure fire way of proving that is to shag them.

Validation by fucking. How endearing.

So celibacy has caused me to re-evaluate that. Since I am not getting laid, and I truly need some self esteem, I have needed to find other sources. My skills in table-scaping and my keen sense of fashion were the first things that came to mind.

Details, and nearly terminal epididymal wedge pressure aside, its been an interesting and beneficial process. A spin off of all this is that I don’t really see guys as sexual opportunities. So imagine my surprise when I get directly and forthrightly hit on this morning.

I have seen this guy around the gym, he is kind of cute and seems to look furtively in the change room. Of course I noticed, I am celibate not DEAD. He is about 5′10″, 190lbs and while he hasn’t got the hardest looking body in the world, he has a good solid shape on him. Sandy blond, blue eyes and a slow, sweet smile that either says he has never had a bad thought or he is full of trouble. Handsome and one of the ways I like them, buff, boyish and shy.

Anyhow, I stopped in reception on my way out to try and sort some problems out with my membership and as a result we were ended up getting into the lift together.

Lets say I was not shocked.

So as I prepared to make small talk, `cause its always good to get to know people, he jumps me. With nothing more than a smile and a throaty growl he lunged across the lift and kissed me most thoroughly. I was so surprised that it took me, oooh, three or four minutes to pull away.

Its a slow lift, so it took a while to get down to the floor we were heading for. So of course I had to see if he had meant this kissing business. And it seems he did. He is a very good kisser I have to say.

When we got where we were going he pulled back he said “Don’t say anything, you are my morning sex fantasy motivation. Don’t spoil it”.

Then he turned and walked out of the lift.

Now there is no change in my position re: the sex thing, but I may go back and train there tomorrow morning.

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