Developments. All Of Them Cool.

Breakthrough on the cage front! My buddy UnFortunate called me yesterday, saying that he had to "salvage what was left of his family history" in Storrs, Connecticut. I had told him about my trip to Providence, and UnFortunate said that he'd be happy to accommodate my cage, and his father is paying for the van. Sweeeeet!

So by the end of June--right on schedule--I could very well have the most wonderful cage ever set up out in my garage.

I'm cooling to the idea of going to work for the Internationally Renowned Woodworker. There just seem to be so many problems at that shop. And I don't doubt that when I came in, everybody there would hate me, and there would be a lot of drama. And I'm looking for a job, not a vocation. If called upon, I will serve, but I don't know that I'm going to put myself out there to get it.

Even though I'm not going to IML, it looks like it's shaping up to be a pretty good weekend. I've got a date tonight with Papihaute down in Philadelphia. Tonight I have a date with one of my Inferno invitees. A great guy, whom I invited to Inferno on the basis of our first date. He's apparently a big muckety-muck in the Philadelphia leather community, throws a great fuck, and get this... loves getting flogged. Gets a hardon from it right away. (The man was sent by God!)

Tomorrow, I have a date with... Dang. I forget his nom de blog. Which probably means I haven't come up with one that's satisfying. Let's call him cowboy for now. Since I do. And since he likes when I do. (Note to self: before your date with cowboy tomorrow, trim fingernails!) And, I'll see about getting my kayak in the water this weekend, and take Faithful Companion over to the bark park in Montgomeryville.

Oh. And the weekend got off to a good start. I was totally looking forward to going to bed on Friday night, and not setting the alarm. Just sleeping and sleeping and sleeping. So my eyes opened, I was wide awake. And, although I was coming out of a deep sleep, words were running through my head. Words for... my profile on WorldLeathermen. (Say what?) So I got out of bed to commit them to paper--or laptop, or whatever--and noticed that it was 6:18 a.m. Which is five hours and eightteen minutes after I went to bed the night before. So much for catching up on my sleep! But the Muse called.

Anyway, I'm surprised and delighted with the results. And here they are...

Leather Is Battle Gear For Warriors Of Love

Being a man is all about holding back. Keep a steady hand. Put on your game face. Suck it up. Hold it in. And that’s a recipe for a heart attack at age 38.

What we want, what we need, every once in a while, is to not hold back. To give it all we’ve got, to just let it come. For me, that’s where SM comes into the picture.

When was the last time you had a man hold you in his arms while you let loose with all your grief and pain and sorrow? Wailing and howling like a trapped and cornered animal? When was the last time you held a weeping man in your arms, mustering all the strength you have, saying softly in his ear, “Yeah Buddy, yeah. Just let it come. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’m with you. You’re safe now.” When was the last time you allowed yourself to be helpless, naked, completely vulnerable? Trusting another man so much that you could take the risk of giving yourself up to him completely, going beyond your limits because you know that he holds your heart in his hands and you’ll emerge intact? When was the last time you contended with another man as though in battle, proving yourself, what you can do, what you’re worth, what you’re capable of, what you can dish out and what you can take, showing your Warrior Soul, in a contest to see which of you can love really Big, and both of you emerge victorious, and better men for it?

So maybe you’re due, Boss?

In 2003, I left behind my life in NYC to come back here to look after my father, not knowing at the time how much I was giving up, but also not knowing how much I was gaining. I find myself in a wilderness of materialistic, inebriate twinks. The opportunities are fewer and farther between, but I still get my licks in when I can. It’s a fallow period. I work hard at a woodshop. I unwind at Starbucks in Doylestown. I hit the gym. I kneel in prayer at church. I take the kayak off the roof rack of my jeep and paddle out into solitude. I hold it together. I keep my eyes open. I cherish what I have and keep the Hungry Ghosts of I want I want I want at bay. I do my best to live deeply, honestly, simply, and with grace, kindness, and compassion.

And, I hold out hope that the day will come when I’ll meet a man who will look me in the eye and see within me a rare thing of value, the pearl of great price, and I’ll find in him wisdom, courage, kindness, strength, and dignity. Together we’ll set off on a great adventure, and the road will go on forever.

I like architecture, welding, hot tubs, road trips, cooking, Compline, cigars, laughing, the desert, and feeling like I'm a part of something larger than myself. I hate mosquitos, materialism, whining, eggplant, clutter, acquisitiveness, pettiness, staying home, sedentary lifestyles, self-importance, condoms, arithmetic, commitment, being cold.

The SM list: singletail whips, chain bondage, edge play, flogging, piss, loving brutality, knives, big smoke fetish




So that's nice, right? Online profiles are interesting things. I remember Diabolique laboring for months over his before he signed up on Worldleathermen. It's an exercise in self-definition, one of those rare occasions where you actually get to choose--100%--how you want the world to see you. And if, as they say, you never get a second chance to make a first impression... I think I'm satisfied with this iteration of me. I believe it paints a fairly accurate picture. Or as accurate as these things can be when we're talking about a fleeting thing like the self.

Anyway.

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