Author Archives: David

Coach Reverts To Pumpkin

23 Friday Nov 2018

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After every holiday comes the feeling, both welcome and unwelcome of normalcy returning. The magic has gone away, kind of like a snow man melting.  Magic will return. We just don’t know when. That is what what makes magic special. It has no schedule and is as capricious as a faltering libido.   There is stuff I need to do around here. The self-care, like exercise and food preparation, I need to do is critical. Part of that self-care is writing the blog. Blogging has moved beyond hobby to a part of my full participation in the community of life.

Through this blog, I have let my anger about the world’s injustice and mendacity ameliorate.  That anger is just another expression of my narcissism.  “I’m not getting what I want and it’s somebody else’s fault!”  I have learned to accept the rants of others as I hope they accept mine.  My opinions are not a full reflection of who I am. That means your opinions don’t fully or accurately reflect who you are. They are like images in a fun-house mirror.

 I have been able to express my feelings and frustrations around my sexuality, no small feat.  Where do I fit in? When do I assert myself? When is expressing my desires to a somewhat indifferent, resistant, prudish mate like “casting pearls before swine”?  When am I forced to accept my own advice about the complexity and subtleties of love?

And always I return to read the other bloggers’ stories  and learn of their lives. 

Butch Voice On Thanksgiving

22 Thursday Nov 2018

Posted by in Gender Identity

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J woke me up early.  She had to be at work at 6:00 AM, getting the store ready to open at 5:00 PM. You know, Black Friday, that latest example of the validity of Pavlovian Psychology.  We’ve come a long way from bells ringing and salivating dogs.  Those dogs are probably laughing at us now in Dog Heaven.  

I suppose I could have gone back to sleep, but I didn’t. I will. I promise soon. What caught my ear this morning was a butch lesbian talking about the books she’s recently read on a YouTube video.  Her voice was a memory, an association with my late cousin Annette. It was that Butch Voice.  And it brought up a flood of memory and loss.  Like most of the people I know, Annette was comfortable living outside of the box, the culture assigned to her.  She no more fit her stereotype than I do mine and you do yours.

Butch Voice. Matter of Fact.  Friendly, in its way. Or maybe just familiar.  Annette’s enthusiasm for little things, like Pixie Sticks, was very inviting. She evoked that childhood memory of a penny candy when her nephew got them for Christmas.  Humour and irony would fill her voice when she spoke of her brother’s ability to find, bed, impregnate, marry, and , ultimately, divorce White Trash Women. 

This is the perfect memory for Thanksgiving, as I remind myself that the families that gather aren’t the ones that are depicted in TV commercials for Walmart, or Coca Cola, or Budweiser Beer. Thank God for that.

Black Friday/Thanksgiving

21 Wednesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Civilization, Spirituality

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Why?

It’s about our money that we give to Wal Mart, Amazon, Target, Macy’s, the others. They, in turn, bought stuff, from the Chinese, among others. They spent vast fortunes to acquire these things. They recoup their outlay and a little something extra for their trouble, costs and profit. Thus the great cycle of commerce completes itself.

By now, the disassociation with the Christian Holy Day of the Solemnity of The Nativity is almost complete. The Santa Claus Myth prevails. It is childish, naive, uncomplicated, readily dispensible once the child reaches seven or eight, and readily grasped again once these children grow up to become parents or aunts or uncles themselves. Another cycle completes itself.

What is stifled by Black Friday is that modest holiday of gratitude, Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving isn’t particularly Christian; gratitude for God’s blessings is present in the Christian world view, but that “attitude of gratitude” is part of many other spiritual traditions. Just the idea of being quiet and humble and grateful requires not a grand display of agricultural abundance but a grateful heart. We need to be quietly thankful for that sophisticated society that connects us all and gets food to our tables. Acknowledging our interconnectedness forces us to drop our pretences of selfishness, self-sufficiency and independence. We get by in this world because we work with people we don’t particularly care for.

Humility, Quiet, Gratitude.

Another Car.

21 Wednesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Automobiles,

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It was time. One of the cars had 220,000 miles on it, the other 190,800.We were going just to see what was available and affordable in the way of used cars. We had an idea of what type of vehicle and what we wanted to spend. We stopped at one dealership, found a car perfect for our needs and budget. And bought it. End of story,

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Short Erotic Interlude

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing, Sexuality

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NSFW For Grown-ups Only Please

She remembered the first time she ever knelt before a man, a boy really, and she felt his cock in her mouth, tasted its saltiness, her nostrils filled with the man odor.

Where was her dignity? Did she really love this guy? Or like this boy? Or even give a rat’s ass, one way or the other? What she knew is that he wanted this, this furtive fellatio before they joined her family at Thanksgiving Dinner.

And on her knees, beside her Daddy’s Buick Electra 225, in the chilly and oil-smelling garage as the rest of the family drank hot mulled cider and ate sausage balls, she realized her power. She, the one with a dick in her mouth, her nose tickled by boy pubes, was the one in charge.

If you want this, Suckah, you’re going to pay the price.

Pure Unapologetic Bragging

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

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This is my younger son. We had lunch the other day at our favorite Cubano restaurant Kuba Kuba Dos.

He ordered the coconut risotto cakes. We sat and talked about nothing important, but between my sons and me, every conversation is vital.

He talks of his work, his investing ideas, his dog, his cousin’s wedding plans, I tell him of the diabetes diagnosis, getting my flexibility back. Just stuff.

Who knew that just sitting with your adult children would be such fun?

Blurred Clear

19 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by in Erotic Writing

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NSFW Grown-ups Only

These images I take from the TV screen on rainy nights are fun.  I imagine a rainy night when lovers meet as a train arrives. He greets her, wearing a trench coat as if he were Bogey in Casablanca.  She, of course, is his Ingrid Bergmann, and she is perfect, because he wants her and she wants him. 

They go to his place to get warm,  with hot chocolate made from really good chocolate and not powdered cocoa. Before a log fire, they sip their chocolate between kisses. He slides his hand under her sweater, unclasps her bra, and her nipples almost immediately feel the teasing touch of the not quite too soft wool..

They enter the timeless giving of passion.