left brain

Word from A Reader

After writing about my 18yo escapade, I got MANY emails, haha... thanks!  I nearly debated not doing another "frank" entry after that one because people have been a little critical, one could say, but I say fuck you.  Which is also typically me, so....enjoy what is to come in the future :)  It will only keep growing ;)  Anways, this email really REALLY stood out.  I am not going to give out names, other than mine, but their hope and happiness rang out to me.  Though, I am still solid about my feelings towards empty twinkies.  Like a real twinkie, the average person only wants one or two in a year.  Unless your obsessed with the idea, like most.  As  follow up, the poor twink thing has spent three days trying to get me to hang out again, haha.  Sigh.  Poor thing.

Hey Frank,
Anyways, the story about your 18 experience particularly rang true to me today. I
have been seeing this guy who actually went to my high school, though
we didn't know eachother then. He is 18; I am 23. His dad was my
soccer and ceramics teacher. I quickly got over those facts but still
they bother me a bit. The sex is fumbly, he is particularly
insightful and intelligent but that lack of world experience is a bit
troubling. If (*) was like the guy in your story, I would have
nothing to do with him  espcially with the liter on the highway! -
perhaps just the 4 hours of 'fun'.

What particularly interests me is that for the first time in my
reasonably young life, I have totally fallen for him not because he
is just a little sweet piece of ass, but he genuinely gives me ease
of mind when I put myself next to him. It is a strange thing, I would
never suspect myself being one to fall for someone younger than me -
with so much youthful exuberance, unknowing excitement and relative
detachment from my own reality. I guess he makes me feel like less of
a cynic and trust what I feel.  This kid wrote his essay for college
about sustainability, for fucks sake. When he says that he loves me,
there isn't that anxiety that I would have before about not being the
right version of me around him. i.e. doing and saying the wrong thing
and thinking about useless shit too much. He is freedom and
disregards my skepticism that America is no longer a great place.
Maybe it will get better with he and I and maybe it will get worse,
but I am particularly glad that he is there right now. Sorry for the
mini-rant, just needed to get it off my chest and your blog entry
today had that effect. Cheers from Boulder.

Slava Mogutin, photographer

In the idea of me trying to push the boundaries in my art, like I do in my blog where everyone thinks I put it all out there which is only half true, I have been studying various artists who are seriously all about putting it all out there.  The only problem is that they are photographers, lol, and I well.. paint.  In oils, without a projector.  Which means little to most but I am thinking I need a projector to do some of the stuff that I want to be doing, like serious fetish imagery as a first layer under the oil, or on top of the oil even.  haha, I don't know.. I am turning and turning, lol.

Anywhoo, enough with my artistic brainfart, I stumbled on this artist named Slava Mogutin who has a niche for hot as hell porn-like photographs that push all kinds of serious boundaries in the worlds of art, porn, culture, society.  They all seriously attack most preconceptions for gay culture, sex, and fetishes (not to mention art) and to most are completely horrifying, dirty, and disgusting.  Yet, somehow, they are selling for thousands of dollars and are hanging on walls all over Manhattan and beyond. 

Again, this photographer reminds me of Wolfgang Tillmans.  The whole polaroid or unframed photograph taped to gallery walls is very trendy, very contemporary, very harsh, very real, very of the moment sort of way.  I still don't understand what happens when you actually want to buy one of these polaroids taped to a gallery wall but I am sure someone reading this can let me know.  Though I sort of would like to know this before I run down a path of creating art that only I will ever own.

His imagery is basically an exaggerated fantasy version of my total fantasy, on like 4 RedBulls, 2 E's, and my stash of porn.  He did this one bit (or performance art/installation as a professional would call it) that took place in a Chelsea gallery a few months ago.  Though one could get the feeling that it is more East Village gay bar then gallery but they are close in theme.  I wasn't there so I am not exactly sure how it went but needless to say a hot as fuck shaved headed Aryan-looking jockboy was tied to a chair, a nasty used jock shoved in his mouth, dirt dumped on his lap along with being rubbed into him, sneakers and dirty socks attached to him, eggs broken on his forehead, and then plastic wrapped, and god knows what else.  He ended up having to break out of the wrap, and ended up bleeding at points (or so the photo's show).  It was basically a hazing but we would call it performance art since it took place in a gallery, lol.  

I don't know where to go with my painting or how to create any of this, or if I even should, but something tells me attaching a used jock to a painting already covered in oil and other mediums, with images of being fucked boys, is bound to get some attention.  The problem is, not in Boston.

Hot Boy Friday

U Want More Boys?

How I Accidently Slept with an 18yo Gonna-Be Pornstar

I decided to hop on the bandwagon for dating teenagers last night for a whole 4 hours.  If thirty-something year olds can date twenty year olds, and fourty-something year olds can date twenty years olds, and fifty-something year olds can date twenty year olds... then why can't I date a teenager?  And by teenager I mean an eighteen year old, nothing illegal people, (or at least in this country)!  I figured trying some chicken even though I am a total meat eater can't be harmful to my emotional health especially when I view the 18yo as a total hookup with little potentional for anything else.  But besides that bit of judgemental bullshit, which is more just honesty than judging, I basically thought, why is everyone hooked on this young idea?  The answer is that their high energy, innocent, entirely lost meandering through life (or four hours) plays into our American youth obsessed mentality (bordering on pedophilia in certain cases) and your entirely lost meandering through life.  Combining the two together, I guess is just not for me.  I want more than lacking conversation, borderline boring sex, some innocent boy thinking he is gods gift, and "fun" with someone high energy and innocent.  Sharing a total connection with someone is much more fantastic than any of those previous points.

He picks me up, having driven down from his house he is sharing with 16,000 friends in northern Boston suburbia.  18yo as we will call him, is about 5'9, wearing a skater hoodie and ripped up AF jeans, brownbrown italian/irish/german, super lean smooth "soccer playing" twinkie.  Though when you start to figure out when this kid is playing soccer (since there is no college in his near future), you might get the idea that he is lieing through his teeth.  He also can barely grow facial hair and his little patch under his chin must have taken him a month or more to grow, lol.  He is more than willing to drive more than an hour to come get me in the city, and bring me back to the city all of which I would never even consider.  He drives at about 85, flashing people with high beams so bright they nearly slide off the road, so he can act like an all powerful American teenager blasting serious hip hop before turning it into some serious Cascada.  We pull up to his house, his friends house, his parents house, his dog's house; I honestly had no idea, nor cared much either.  Somehow there is a hot tub.  So, after an hour of sitting in the thing, both of us in gym shorts, we decide that the level of privacy is lacking.  Especially after I learn that he is about to head to his first solo porn shoot in Florida.  Where?  Well, as he said.. some place with a "Fort" in it.  Doing porn for an 18yo gay boy is pretty tempting especially when you feel like you have no money (or future).  I myself felt the urge, thankfully now, I never did.

We head back to his room, and next to the bed is a glowing pink neon sign of the words, "Evil."  Hard to think that this 18yo gay boy dancing to Cascada is evil, especially when the light glows pink.  I liked it though, especially since I was about to use this kid.  lol.  Somehow we start watching 24, I am nearly yawning at this point, thinking to myself that maybe I should have just jerked off at home.  There was some light making out in the hot tub when I realized with my right hand why he is heading into a solo porn shoot.  But back to his room, we start making out in the bed again, he kissed like a teen (which was cute), and as we got sweaty, the gym shorts came off and I found out that this kid was nicely hung and totally shaven smooth.  Both plus's I guess in the world of twink porn?!  I understood my role from the beginning, which is usually how it happens I guess, and totally made him service me.  haha!  I went from lieing back on the bed pillows, to sitting in a chair, to lieing down, to back sittig propped against the pillows forcing his head onto my dick.  The kid just went to town sucking like a boy so in need of dick.  There is something about the whole younger boy thing that brings out the harder rougher top in me, lol, and so it happened.  I toyed with his ass (which wasn't as smooth as the rest of his body hysterically enough), shoving one finger in, then two, but in trying three he winced and squirmed.  I thought to myself, oh christ, if I can't get three in, he is going to be a lot more work to fuck.  And as it turns out he was.  He, adorably, thought he was going to "play" top and I declined forcing him back onto the bed with his ass in the air as I went into it with  my tongue preparing him for what he knows he wants.  It took about ten more minutes of work just to get him begging, lol, and then another ten until I thought he was ready.  He was jacking his dick the entire time, leaking like a boy should.  Condom on, yes people.. condoms are still available at the pharmacy.  I know every 18-30yo thinks otherwise but seriously.. its fucked up, and even though fucking with a condom blows, it still is worth it.  So I basically shove it in (slowly) before going to town seriously pounding him, knowing full well that this kid was like me at 18, and he blows his load all over his chest, hitting his neck, after like 10 minutes.  At this point I debate to myself, staring at the evil sign, as he is still in the realm of orgasm, that if I pull out, this is over and I go home to jerk off (which I did anyway), or to stay inside and fuck him until I am ready to come.  I went for option two, I just picked up pace again as he begins to squirm and went to town pounding him, watching me fuck him, watching him love it.  I shot all over him and then got up and cleaned myself off.  I was done and I was ready to go home.  It was fun, yet the sex was so disconnected that I became bored.  Knowing that I was able to do whatever I wanted to this kid was hot somewhat but not what I want with sex.  Knowing that he was all excited about hooking up with a boy was adorable but I have so moved past that, lol.

The outcome of this whole little trip to the northern suburbs of Boston in an SUV so large that this 5'9" kid looked like a Lego person in it, was a total (but amusing) mental breakdown on the ride back home.  Few words were spoken because I was in my zoning state of awareness (asking yourself WTF you are doing at a moment like this is needed, and some should take this hint) because when he was blasting music that not only was made in my high school years but that I danced to in my college years, I nearly laughed and cried out loud.  Everything I thought to bring up as a topic to him was going to be unresponsive.  And trying to fit into his mindset of being 18 only made me go back to being 18 and 19 and 20 and 21 and that just made me even more weird.  Since those years were 5 years ago (!!!!) and if I wanted to talk about what I was thinking was hot when I was 20, it barely has relevance onto today.  What I did when I was 20 is either gone now or closed.  The wild innocence of entering your first gay bars and clubs is long gone.  And so is the music.  There is no more Thunderpuss.  No more Darude and "Lets Get Soaking Wet."  No more doing nothing all day with friends.  Just imagine for one, that this totally adorable soccer player boy is dancing and singing along happy as a gay boi in 1999 to NSync, Backstreet Boys, and some other gay as can be boyband tunes;  all of which I was nearly addicted to when I drove around the town I grew up in with nothing to do on a Friday night.  Then imagine, that this totally adorable soccer player of smooth innocence was born during the first Bush years.  Yes, first Bush.  If that isn't enough to choke on, lets keep going.  Having grown up over the last few years, with thanks to myself and many great people, the idea that this kid through a fucking Wendy's bag (oh yah, we stopped for Wendy's where he ordered more food then I have eaten in one of these places in like 3 months, not that I am jealous, I can see my abs now, lol) out the window of his massive black SUV on the highway, nearly made me want to crack his nose open with my elbow.  In a world that is fucked up, an 18yo with NO money whatsoever driving an SUV nearly as large as my apartment blasting boy bop and throwing trash out the window doesn't ring much for the future.  Nor does his entire inability to form a sentence that involves anything of interest in my current life. 

But the best came when we pulled back into the city that I have created a life in and as he is nearly dropping me off, pretty much worried that his SUV couldn't fit down some of the roads that the South End is made up of (they are narrow but he also had no confidence on how to drive, given that he got his license a year ago), asks me a question.  But first saying that he doesn't want to seem conceited.  I laughed and said go ahead, entirely knowing at this point that I was in total control and have been for the last 4 hours.  Which yes might make me seem conceited right now but it is just the truth.  He asked, I nearly laughed outloud, "So, did you think I was good?"  and I answered, "You were fun."  Knowing at this moment that this was the last time I would ever trick or even consider an 18yo again.

Gay Cruise Pics

All of these photos come from Tom.  Thanks :)

Dim Sum, Stella, and Toro

Other than seeing two movies and painting, I also woke up Sunday and headed to DimSum with a friend before going to the Frank Stella show at one of the Harvard art museums. It has been a little while since I went to see some real art (before Brasil one could say) and I have been in need. It was a tad bit of a let down. Though once I went back and read their blurb for the show, I should have expected it:

The year 1958 was Stella's first year of independent work. After graduating from Princeton, he moved to New York and threw himself into creating a series of monumental abstract canvases. Until now, these 30 works have been neglected or treated as a prelude to his proto-minimalist black paintings that soon followed. But the works from 1958 stand solidly on their own, as the exhibition demonstrates by bringing most of them together for the first time.

It was just such a variety of work that it was hard to find his message, or meaning, or even at times, his talent. Which is never good. I loved two of the paintings but in a show of like 12, that number should have been higher. I also thought I was a little ripped off for paying 8 bucks to get into the show which was 2 rooms not much bigger than my own apartment. The NYTimes though seemed to love it. Cough.

Then there was napping, jerking off, TV, jerking off, loading all of my Brasil photo's finally, and then Brian called back from his ski trip wanting to go to dinner. So we headed to Toro, again. We snuggled up to the bar, had some sangria, and dined on some incredible fare, even getting to see a glimpse of Ken Oringer who is sadly in need of a stylist. Then the asshole manager of Mistral (overrated and full of people who think they are eating in NY) and his loser friends (all from some shitty north or south shore idea) worked their way over and created a toxic gloom of disgust over the place so we had to leave, abruptly.

Two Films

My weekend involved a lot of film and culture. Late Saturday afternoon, after a great and successful attempt at the easel, I went to see V for Vendetta. Remember Remember the Fifth of November.

V for Vendetta was absolutely brilliant, mesmerizing, astonishing, and powerful. I left the theater quoting lines (which ultimately come from bigger theorists) and with an idea. The movie is about a revolution in like 2010, ultimately. A well needed revolution to overthrow the unfair "fear-invoking" lieing brutality of a government, sound familiar? Well, add in some serious punches at the society we now live in, with brilliant metaphors on a US in civil war after creating a war that spread around the world, a Rush Limbaugh-like pill popping media sultan, the angry violence that the media feeds on, stupid money hungry politicians, and great stabs at the stupid hatred some have towards the Muslim and homosexual world (not to mention "terrorists"). I left the theater feeling like the movie was just so me (see my Socialism post awhile back) and how the world, and especially the US, is in need of a government enhancing revolution. I thought to myself how great it would be to get 500 of the faux masks that V wore and to stand infront of the White House. How much media attention that would get. How fantastic it would be if it was 1,000 people. I don't want to give away the movie but I do want you to see it, and see how this country (and on some level) this world is heading down a path for lemmings and what ultimately will happen. The action in the film is very reminiscent of old school Samurai movies. The blood flies and looks like a cartoon in exactly the same way.

Two great lines from the movie, that are not only great lines but theories that are so me:
Artists use lies to tell the truth while politicians use the truth to tell lies.

People should not be afraid of their government, their government should be afraid of its people.

I also went to see Thank You for Smoking with Brian and Eric. I was excited to see this movie because it looked funny and because it had Adam Brody in it (Seth from the OC, fyi). It had some good moments which mostly involved Adam Brody and that guy who slept with the young girl who was on West Wing? lol. But otherwise, not so exciting. I did love how ridiculous the media is though, and the sign that had this quote that was behind the ModSquad. "The United States of America. The Best Government Your Money Can Buy."

Summer Storm, movie

Here is reason number 6 million 400 thousand 12 to live in NYC.  Yes, I know I know, like you needed one more?

This movie Summer Storm, with the hot brown haired boy,  isn't coming to my third world city without the third world excitement.   But then again, it could be worse.  Go watch the trailer.

Beautiful Thing

It seems like the Avian flu, or Ebola, or some other kinda of shitty virus is going aroudn and it is taking down all of my friends, lol.  Even though I thought I was going to go dancing last night to Victor Calderone, I ended up staying in and watching a movie with a pint of Cake Batter ice cream from Toscanini's (an awesome ice cream shop in Boston and no I didn't eat it all).  It was totally relaxing and a good quiet night and it ultimately turned into an awesome convo with my hottie DJ friend in NYC.

Anyways, I am rarely into gay movies, because even for all of our creative talent, they usually just suck.  And I was a little reluctant to rent a movie about gay life from 1996 in London.  Thinking it would be about Heaven, E, drugs, sex, and AIDS.  However, I am thrilled to say that I absolutely thought Beautiful Thing was sweet, touching, emotional, funny, and melancholic for me.  In fact, I later realized the story was taken from a West End play by Jonathan Harvey.  The story takes place in southeast London in an apartment building where the underachieving denizens get an emotional wake-up call when two teenage "cockney-chav" boys fall in love.  There are tons of camp moments (not Kamp as they use in England either) in the film, most of which are hysterical, especially the black girl living next to the two boys who thinks she is Mamma Cass, lol.

I was totally touched by the story and I sat there for most of wishing I was cuddling with my own lil boy.  Damnit!  It brought me back to 1999 when I started to debate coming out after years of playing around discreetly with boys (oh, the days of the hottie Brown soccer player), and how shitty and alone I felt.  Their innocence upon walking into their first gay bar, their first kiss, their struggles with it, their struggles with life so just flooded over me.  Wow, I have come a long way, as has the world.  Ha, it does turn out though that one of the boys, the jock, was dealing E since it seemed like the entire city of London was on it in 1996, too funny, while the other boy HATED football because it cut into his time watching The Song of Music, lol.