Country Roads, Take Me Home, To The Place I Belong...

Here I sit, in the livingroom of my parents house, watching the Phillies, who are losing 9-0 to Montreal. Jim Thome is out of the game, so it's looking like the Expos won the game in the second inning. Poor Randy Wolf. Such a hot man. Love to whip him. But, I think after his showing tonight, a lot of Phillies fans would love to whip him, although not in that good way that I have in mind.

Today I found out that the local vo-tech school, where all the greasers I used to lust after in high school would go to take classes, has an adult program that offers welding. For a fraction of the price that even General Technical Institute in Linden, New Jersey charges.

I had to drive my Dad to the bank today. It was hot and humid. So when we got home, I headed to Tohickon Valley Park to go swimming. Not in the pool, but in a great swimming hole in the Tohickon Creek I know about. A swimming hole I've been going to for the past thirty years of my life.

My dog, Faithful Companion, just loves the long walks we've been taking. He has so much more energy then he did when his life consisted of hanging out in my apartment alone while I was away, and looking forward to a trip to Hamilton Park.

Tonight, a Monday, is Jock Strap Night at the Bike Stop in Philadelphia. If I didn't have the service to go to tomorrow, I think I'd be there now. The Bike Stop, by the way, is a leather bar. Philadelphia has one of those. New York, sadly, does not.

I found my way to the Philadelphia Bondage Club. Damn! What a play space! Pity they only meet once a month. There having a going-away party for all the guys going to Delta.

Huh.

I've sort of moved already. In my mind, this is home. It was weird visiting Jersy City yesterday, going into my apartment. It seemed small, and strange. And even Beautiful Downtown Jersey City felt oddly alien. All those people. All those damn motor scooters buzzing around.

But here I am. Rooting for the Phils, not the Yankees. Going to the Raven, not the Eagle. Looking forward to starting welding school here, and not in North Jersey. Driving slow at night because I don't want to hit a deer, not because traffic is at a standstill going through the Holland Tunnel.

For now, I'm not changing anything. I mean, I'm going too be making arrangements to move my stuff when I get back here from Inferno. And looking for a nice part time job while I go to welding school. It's my plan to make as many trips to NYC to fulfil my GMSMA obligations. But I sure don't want to be taking on anything that will add to that.

But the big thing is my mental state. I mean, I've just eased into this Bucks County State of Mind so quickly.

One thing that I've realized. I've got to get a play space. I suppose I could make something work in my Dad's tool shed, moving the stuff that's in there into the garage. But that would be hardly ideal. Wonder if there's anybody kinky around with a barn that he or she would be willing to make available to me.

Maybe I should make a point of stopping by Le Chateau Exotique in New Hope, purveyors of fine leather-rubber-fetish gear, and seeing if I could get there help to organize a munch or something. Or maybe a night at the Raven. (As it turns out, I know one of the owners from way back.) A local Top from Leather Navigator wants me to flog him. There's a boy in Riegelsville who's hot for me to chain him up. There's a guy in Philadelphia who wants to wear my collar. A very hot boy who plays softball and lives in the lower end of Bucks County has been itching to get together with me. A very hot cigar smoking man from Ambler is making his first Inferno. GI Joe lives about a half hour north of me with his husbear.

And I just feel no pressure whatsoever. None. None of that edginess I've gotten used to living in the Greater New York Metropolitan Area for the past fourteen years. It's not about surviving here, it's just about finding ways to thrive.

I wonder if the Philadelphia Gay News would like a columnist covering Leather-Kink-BDSM? I could be the Mr. Marcus of Philadelphia. Or the Will Clark of Philadelphia. (And I didn't have the audacity to move here. At least I've lived here before and know the terrain.)

Have I mentioned how beautiful it is here? Driving along River Road north of Frenchtown is just gorgeous. And all these trees. And the stars at night. And corn fields and wheat fields. And trim little Quaker meetinghouses.

Oh my God. The Expos scored three more runs. And the Phils have at least one so it's now 12-1. Bottom of the sixth.

So I guess I'm here now.

Wish me luck on that.

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