Crisis of Morality Part II (cont. from story started in the summer.)

It's December 2010 but 6 months later I still have my head full of thoughts on this summer Spanish trip of mind. So Lets rewind to July 7. Yes the trip took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment.

Crisis of Morality Part II (cont. from story started in the summer.)

It's December 2010 but 6 months later I still have my head full of thoughts on this summer Spanish trip of mind. So Lets rewind to July 7. Yes the trip took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment.

Fast Forward

Again and again I discover that writing the blog is like walking the dog - need to do it everyday - I knew that already, but it keeps on sneaking on me. Just when you're happy you dont write because you're too busy being happy, when you're depressed you dont write because you dont want to sound depressed and all your view on the reality is distorted. So you have to be kind of sad and definitely a bit lonely to feel like this task is what you can do well at the moment. Well I have to hurry because my ex with whom I am sharing a bed for a couple of nights in the snowing and frozen london, just arrived, and he snores. Once he finishes to eat in the kitchen and gets in to bed all the fun will be over. OK thats boring, cross that all out. What I meant to say is that being an artist or a writer is such an emotional roller-coaster - you live inside your head and then you really come out only when you're vulnerable. Budding artists and snails are the same in this respect. I used to think that most of greatest art was created out of sadness. Look at all the great composers, its pointless to name them. With each one there are these happier uplifting works and the deeply touching depressing, those that give you the sense of tragedy you never knew existed and depth of suffering you could not imagine was there. But above all its underlying sadness thats haunting. In all the happy moments, here and there like a sand many days after a visit to a beach, a note of sadness creeps in your shoe like a grain of sand and though being only one note, it cuts like a knife deep into the heart and plants the awful seed. So thats what I used to think now I dont know if I am only projecting my own laziness on other people who were much more awarded and worked for their fame very hard, but who knows they're all dead and those that are alive would never admit to being lazy. One I know that did was Czeslaw Milosz, I read in one or two of his poems how lazy he thought he was, but then he got a Nobel Prize and even lived to write about it. But yes - sad, lonely and distant from people seems to be the combination that works. Perhaps thats why I travel so much but, why in hell I chose those big cities. They're so full of wonderful adventures and so alienating, but that dichotomy is false. Anyway, he's snoring like a train. More later then.

Prelude: At odds with myself.

Writing of this blog has become increasingly difficult, not for the lack of commitment or confidence, but for the attempts to maintain a delicate balance between my real opinion and real-life relationships with people about whom I write. I wouldn't want to offend anyone and people who are my real life characters have feelings and those get communicated to me all too loud to just disregard them. If was the value of this blog that i would write about my life and people who surround me and I would not try to be politically correct. maintaining that credo resulted in lots of topics not being touched. My current bf Tommy beyond the initial posts when everything was a bliss, my ex boyfriend Davide who deserved at least three chapters of getting to know him and falling in love at the same time with him and venice, living with him and observing the magical vail of this city clear from my eyes and making me realize the reality and a true character of a person I was with, then the breakup and post breakup chapter, all that being very difficult to write when you try to be honest and truth especially about us when voiced by other people hurts and one has to be a really evolved being to take in the criticism and not hold a grudge against their critic. Well I am the first one to criticize myself but as I dont want to set the tone of this book to self deprecating I will resort to criticizing others for the most part, I am not all that intreating and we do have to keep it fresh... Lets then make this an enigmatic Prelude to a more serious Introduction of several Acts to follow. But have I answered the core question here? - will it or will it not be politically correct regardless of the consequences. Or should i just reinvent everyone's names and turn reality blog to a based on reality fiction book. Somehow the latter seems to less entertaining but the jury is still out on that.

Being an ex is never easy.

Today, I meant to post something completely different, but I feel obliged to answer to one of the online comments that were made. The comment was to the last posting and it was written by Tommy's former boyfriend, clearly upset that Tommy is moving on with his life. I do not know the guy, I never met him, I never inquired about him or he never held any of my interest, so its hard for me to offer any more information beyond what you can read yourself in his comment. In fact I dont even know his name. Let me just pre-empty what I'm going to say, and let all of you that find my blog interesting that this posting will be plain boring. In other words stop reading here unless some mediocre drama may entertain you. So Dear Tommy's ex bf, whoever you are, Thank you for your comment, I appreciate all the comments. I'm afraid though it is really bad for you, being Tommy's ex boyfriend, to try to use his former affection for you as a method to stay at his house or sleep with him every night like you wrote. Why do you do that? That relationship is over and you are only making yourself unhappy by trying to stay in Tommy's company, showing him you're jealous and angry by writing hurt and confused replies to my blog. Then you question him about me and are annoying to him making everything even worse. If I were you I would consider stop trying to go back to something that will never be the same and look for a new guy that you can build a happy life with. I dont know you, I just feel sorry that you are clearly hurting yourself and make life difficult for you and for Tommy. Remember that ex-boyfriend should be supportive of his ex's attempts on building a new life - thats a normal human courtesy. I know I am going to sound like a shrink on bad TV which is just so boring, but I feel I have to remind you what everyone knows - you need a break from your ex to be happy again. Otherwise, in time,  you will loose his friendship and any remaining affection he may hold for you. Its ABC of a break up and every person knows this - you need distance, you need time away, you need limited contact. And last but not least, if you cannot handle the truth, dont read my blog. But again thank you for writing, it is my personal blog but I want that people directly or indirectly connected with the events I describe, feel they can have their voice heard.

Naked in Athens

BLOG ATHENS Such a big break took place since I was able to post the last bog it seems half a year went by, so the things are freshest in my mind are most recent so I will be trying to fill the gap going backwards from. At the moment I am at the plane as its a good place to write, returning from Athens to London. In fact this is the secant time I was in Athens during the last two months and all by chance. THis time I went with Tommy Hawk (picture) to do a live sex performance at a club called FC-UK. I must say I was expecting everything but not the personal touch we received from the owner of the club, who put us in a nice hotel, sent cars to pick us up form the airport and was thee pretty much available to us at any time to solve the silliest of problems like when I forgot my gym sneakers. I do think he likes me more than other performers and since I speak polish with him we quickly struck a common note that was resonating throughout the whole vist. It would genuine courtesy and treatment you can expect only if you were a prince staying in a five star L hotel. Speaking of hotel you know how california studios put you in a shabby cheap place with tiny rooms in San Francisco near their studio. Ours was elegant bran new 4 star hotel right in the heart of the city. But then again Paul is an angel and can safely recommend his club as a great appearance opportunity for any model. If you ever go to Athens do visit FC-UK because although the city looks shabby and falling apart from the outside, having a dirty borderline eastern felling to it, this cruising club is completely modern and well organized as much for cruising as much for sex. The performance space is great and allows for 150 people to watch the show from two levels and the staircase. Its clean, lit with proper atmosphere and I had lots of fun using the sling and other fuck-places without a feeling like I am going to catch smoothing any moment, which you often get even at famous places like Berlin's Laboratory and London's Hard On, although I will give it to the latter two that its really hard to keep the fuck surfaces clean when you have 500 people coming to a 6 hour long party. FC-UK however with its 150 nightly attendance has enough guys to get laid but maintains a chamber sexually charged atmosphere that doesn't disperse over large spaces other clubs have. I will post some photos form our performance. The show itself was a success but how could it not be when we looked great with Tommy and, six-packs tattoos and oiled muscles., and Tommy's ass is well…I think I wrote about it already but I just cant get enough each time. Clearly he couldn't get enough of mine so we fucked and fisted to the popular applause of the gathered audience. Since the club was so much fun instead of one we did three shows, one dirtier than the other. And there is something to say about Tommy being my preferred sex partner above everyone I remember. With each boyfriend you when you're high on love in the first stages of relationship you have at least one or two such experiences - these when you feel high yet you've taken no drugs. When you dont know whats going on in your brain, level of intoxication reaching beyond anything you have experienced before. Outside of Tommy in my life I think it happened only once and it was sex with Owen Hawk after a year long dating, mating and feeling it would be wrong to go to bed together since we were best friends and business partners. We were also in love and it happened one day coming down like a stunning tornado that moves the whole sky with its vortex but normally its never seen in this part of the country. So unexpected, so powerful, it carried us higher and higher spinning faster and faster. We held to each other kissing and we didn't know if we were rolling on the bed or was it the imaginary tornado holding us in some euphoric dance. Never before or after I felt so high and so united with another person. So coming back to Tommy, sex with him is each time close to that first experience, endorphins flowing freely and every kiss sweeping me off my feet. I'm a great kisser but Tommy even more tries to improve my skill and tells me from time to time to relax my lips. God, if I relax them I feel like I'm falling hundred stories down and if he didn't hold me tight I'd probably fell into heaven and God knows what that'll be like. In short sex with Tommy, stunning body visuals included is just constant bliss, addictive as Mozart's Requiem from the first listening. Many times I traveled across europe to hear live Requiem in moving performances of my favorite conductors, as many times I traveled to Madrid to see Tommy and to drink bliss straight from his lips. In fact i didn't need the money I was paid for the performance I just wanted to see him an since he makes little money and cant afford to travel I organize these promotional gigs to give us opportunity to meet and for him to make some cash, as he's very proud and he wont let me pay for him, what a refreshing quality. Still I end up paying for all the travel since I always have to go to him then. So it was any two nights but I indulged enough in the warmth of his body and beauty of his face, From day one though I though it was a hopeless love, difference in social standing, difference in education, difference in language and difference in background. Love though has the tricky quality of making you appreciate it most when you miss it - and thats our whole relationship two days here, three days there, always intense, always sincere in affection, always lacking on time. Like a walk through the palace garden in the summer afternoon, full of enchanting corners, warm scents of rare flowers, captivating plant designs, narrow cosy pathways leading from the carmine rose section to the yellow tulip garden. You segue the path and sit on a bench in front of a fountain to listen the the bubbling water and noise of the sandy pebbles under your feet. The moment so fragile and it lasts no longer than a visit of a sparrow, you know the next group of tourists is just around the corner. On occasional visits to the park you dont notice the buckets with gardeners tools, long hoses rolled out each morning for the irrigation and the petal loosing plants that just wont be happy and die. Each time I re-visit my love to tommy I find myself in the enchanting garden, and when I'm not with him I miss him, my love growing for the place that doesn't exist. Only remembering perfection I'm about to wake up, not now though, not now. The afternoon sun still caresses my face and the view of his innocent cheerful face is still unspoiled by sadness. For now the group of tourists with children went the other way. The garden is our again.

Today back online!

After what it seemed to be eternity I managed to get someone to help me fix the blog functionality and if everything is cool I van start posting all the juicy chapters I was forced to wrote to my harddrive.

Test

testing blog posting

Shit day and Schumann for dessert.

So whoever had a shit day out there, I suggest they do what I have done today. It seemed the roof was falling on my head I had so many problems and they seemed to have no end. If fact I was so stressed out I slept half of the afternoon just to turn off my brain. Since my particular crisis didn't end today and maybe will end tomorrow I was expecting to be full of nervous nail biting and pacing the room back and forth. Instead I reached for the unusual cure - I called a friend of mine to come over and accompany me on the piano while I massacre Dichterliebe (Poet's Love) song cycle by Schumann. This was a new experience for me. I have sung before with recordings in the background and I thought I was pretty good, well at least better than the usual singing-in-the-bathroom. This time I was accompanied on a real piano to a tempo and volume which I chose and it was only me singing. I focused on three songs that seemed challenging but manageable and of course started with most excited one "Ich grolle nicht" only to loose my voice after 5 minutes of singing with full voice and no warm up. Still it was terrific fun and we laughed to no end looking at each other with every new bar we'd terribly trash. A porn-star in Venice singing Schumann to accompaniment of a contemporary opera composer who sees the score more as a guideline rather than anything to adhere to. I laughed when i was bad but I laughed double when I was good. The most difficult song of the cycle ("Ich hab'im Traum geweinet") happens to be the easiest looking on the page and fact has fewest notes to play but for the singer expressively it can Mount Everest and delivering it convincingly is as involving as sniffing poppers in the sling in the darkroom full of hard cocks. Well maybe its not the most eloquent parallel but intensity of the experience is definitely comparable. For most of the time voice is unaccompanied and you feel completely exposed. It opens with a long solo phrase that you need to intonate perfectly and bring to a crescendo and diminuendo within only two and a half bars. It takes a good ear and real balls to do it as that one phrase says everything about you as a singer and performer. We finished breaking our teeth on "Im Rhein in heiligen Strome" which is the most balanced of the three songs and has parts where you can open up and sing your lungs out, and parts that require whisper-like voice. All in all my earlier problem disappeared for two hours. Who would think? Better then smoking, drinking or taking hard drugs - I'm getting old, am I? Too bad most of these songs set 19th century poetry which in our day seems tacky in how it simplifies the love topics. My German sucks but with dome dictionary help I made a translation of the song I mentioned to be as challenging as climbing a mountain. But the text; touching in its own way, could it be any simpler? I have in wept in my dreams. I dreamed you lay in the grave. I woke up and the tears still flowed down from my cheeks. I have wept in my dreams. I dreamed you abandoned me. I woke up and I wept very long and bitterly. I have wept in my dreams, I dreamed you were still good to me. I woke up, and yet again my face floods in tears. Back to porno and sex in the next chapter.

Venice can be so surprising.

So on the pages of same boring Gay Romeo who's dull members I was bashing earlier this weekend, I have met tonight no one less but a real composer, visiting Venice for a month and composing his second opera. We talked a moment online and decided to meet right afterwards at Piazza San Marco under the tower. It was 2 am. Venice is hot and humid and tonight reminds more of tropical Rio then north Italy. We strolled by a few always gorgeous views of city by night, the pinkins white street lamps, the stars, the dispersed light of a bright moon hanging in the most kitschy way between the roofs of some old charming palaces. We came to my house talking about composers and music and listened for three hours to various new music exchanging first listening impressions. And it all happened at the spare of a moment. Where else in the western city busy with cars and spread over the distances could it happen? Venice is just magical in this and many other ways. I'm so happy to have found it.

"U sucked my dick and more.."

So this is now a weekly occurrence, some completely average looking guy, excuse for being insensitive, is talking to me on GayRomeo or manhunt like we were old friends. Of course I've no clue who he is and why he thinks I'm going to have children with him so I ask if we know each other. The answer is always the same: "of course i met (u) in Berghain (a disco in Berlin)... u sucked my dick and more...". Same was in Madrid, already on the first night some Brazilan guy seriously disappointed that I didn't remember him, and when I inquired more in detail it turned out that he allegedly fisted me 4 years ago in NYC. So fucking what? Him and the other guy and 99% of them were average or below average fucks. If you dont give it your best and are average, then dont expect me to remember your name. I was letting it go and I have no choice but continue to ignore these half-brained mediocracies in the future but their sense of self-importance just stuns me every time. I have a whole really long post about what took place in Madrid, in fact almost 2 small book chapters so I'm working on posting that partially this weekend. What an exciting place...

I love Madrid!

I met a very special guy. Not a hooker. Nor super smart but amazing for the bedroom and really sweet. Spanish. Hot, does porn too. Oh did I mention he really gets off on fisting me? I dont have a picture but he has hot tattoos and perfect body since he is a personal trainer, cute face, but not cute as a button, in fact has some spaces between his front teeth which when he smiles gives him a the very same strange attractiveness like the street models from the Caravaggios paintings But the best is sex - he is fucking amazing and although didn't do it before to classical music he intuitively knows how to do it well to the music. I am not doing drugs but I feel so fucking high on love when I kiss him - ahhhhh did I tell you he is the best kisser for me - as if we were a hand and a glove - fitting perfectly every time our lips touch each other. I will take some pictures...

Crisis of morality

Since nobody reads this blog, at least nobody I know of i think its best to write without a filter. I'm personally terrible at the type of marketing that would be suitable here as in - say who got fucked by who and why was it hot. Thats not a big enough part of my adventures to really write about this. I for no better reason that he was negative and boring me for the most part I have left now my new only a year old relationship. I feel bad because the guy is hot and sweet and loves me and tries to do things for me and never says no and helps to do petty things in my life that I despise to take care of. But not every angel is inspiring, I felt like this one was always too negative and always predicting the doom. Its hard to be around someone who does things for you but at the same time impedes your chances for doing things in your life, whispering in your ear that it will all go wrong, and that its best to live small and safe taking no risks in life. Its sad we could not find a common ground at the end but its not the end of the world for either of us. Since I dont like to be alone I am now thinking what to do. Of course endless number of people tell me how hot I am and just wants to fuck me, to the point it doesn't even register. The really hot ones that I would like to fuck in fact all turn out to be hookers so they request money. What ever happened to sex for free I dont know. When I was more skinny and less looking like a ripped delicious beefcake it was just easier to hook up with average guys and have satisfaction from sex. Now that I look really hot and I appreciate how much work and dedication it takes at my age (36) especially, I am looking to play with guys that look like me. And here is the problem - I have done all this work to set myself out for disappointment because all other guys who have done similar amount of work want to cash out on it. Today I wrote to a really hot guy online: "Isn't it sad, that I am a porn producer and a porn actor and you are and escort. In the normal world I would say - "Hi you're hot do you want to have sex with me? And maybe you would say yes." And in our case you need to make money and I need to make a film so we have to exchange money for work we're going to be doing." So here we are at the crossroads of classical morality - is it acceptable these days to pay someone to get to know you, or to keep it pure must we rather wait for Mr. Perfect to show up at some social party or bump into him on the street or just passively wait. In the modern day of technology we have options we never had before; we can go online and checking the number of boxes with requirements sort out through the databases of thousands of guys and come up with the statistically most likely picks. Well science wise its makes all the sense. Practice-wise I come up with he list of porn stars and hookers and insecure guys with head cut off in their pics. We scroll past the insecure ones and we're left with the choice of writing guys who want to get paid. Now anyone would tell you who works as an escort that they are not online to look for romance but to get a paying client, so writing them to go out with me on a date is no use as they will rightfully so request money. Another silly option is to make yourself also an escort profile and then write to the hot guy of your choice and offer "an exchange of services". No matter how dumb it sounds it actually works sometimes but, from my experience is not a very effective method to find a boyfriend. Most people will just say no and assume you are being annoying. So the last choice is to pull out your wallet and pay. Or is it? And what are we paying for - for sex, - that seems to get more value for your buck, or we take a guy on a romantic dinner during which he is nice to you because he gets paid by the hour. Damned if you do, damned if you dont seems to me. So here I am trying to scrap all the morality and say to myself to hell with all this, I am going to make an offer; You go to a dinner-date with me and if we like each other and everything goes well I will pay all your bills and you dont have to do escorting again in your life. Just become my partner and companion. In a few words I am taking a chance to have a kept boy. Many people will say at this point - what a ridiculous idea! and what a set up for failure! Furthermore, some will say Matthias, but you are too young to be paying for sex, especially for love. Love cant be bought, and so on. Well I think that it has to be taken as another adventure. I think the wealth of human wisdom comes not only from study of history but from the first had experience and in the matters of heart and finding a partner, there are no answers that you can borrow from someone. You just have to try it. The concept of a kept boy, of a sponsor is nothing really repulsive or new. If you think of your chances to find a guy that will be sexually compatible with you, fulfilling your eyes desire and be intellectually stimulating, your chance of finding one is close to winning a lottery ticket, and as we most play the lottery for their entire lives and nothing happens. So what to do if I as I mentioned before I just broke up with a guy and I dont like to stay alone - wait for Mr. Perfect?, take another Mr. Unperfect and concede to many character and physical flaws and sacrifices, or perhaps, maybe, try to divide the needs between "providers" so to say. So for example you take a kept boy with a musculature and looks that make passers by melt in their tracks, and become close friends with some people who can help you develop intellectually. Brazilian or Thai like I had recently they all do just fine in bed and are so pleasing to wake up to their sight. It makes sense because the intellectual types with whom you would like to discuss art and poetry are usually not the ones that go to the gym and will passionately fist you flexing their biceps all night long. So its not a news that the morality as we know it is useless in matters of love in modern society. I think that without being cynical we ought to think more of function of usefulness of other people in our lives. And although it sounds very cold, and although me may turn a blind eye at it people has always come and gone from our lives as their usefulness expired. Not all of them but most. And the only difference is that I would like to have active control over than rather then let it all happen by chance. And then again I think whats so wrong with sponsoring someone while their useful for your company and bodily pleasures. We have all at some point in one way or another sponsored or helped out a lover or let someone else to live off of us, it just sort of happened. It maybe happened with less cynicism, but was the price we paid any smaller? Did we unnoticeably suffer any less? I dont think so. I think deep inside we all know that all of us are users and takers at the same time. Its just a matter of being open about it or pretending that such thing never happens to us. From ancient Greece and Roman Empire we have the accounts of someone keeping someone for their benefit, but then at least, in the case of older men keeping younger men in the house for the purpose os sex and company, people were open about it and writers and philosophers have recorded that duly. Then came the time of Christianity and slavery of women towards men was just renamed a marriage. With all the respect to the fact that women did not have access to education thus not being able to provide for the house on the same level as men, I think that the idea that we are marrying someone to satisfy all our needs is just a failed cause. However if we marry several people and provide for them so that they would satisfy our various needs then we can talk about greater chances for happiness. To follow the thought to the end, if an Arabian sheik can have multiple wives and there is not even a second split doubt that he pays for them, why should I not try to do the same and have a few boys around the house, for cleaning, for cooking, for sex, and for good conversation. By now, everyone who read this thinks I'm certifiably insane but I have to mention that for at least three recent months I have lived in such a polyamorous relationship and I was really happy. As with all good things they come and go - in particular beauty wears off and company that was fresh is no longer appealing, things become routine and boring. So maybe the only answer is to cycle relationships for the sake of maximum pleasure. I dont know how much of it is real philosophical discovery, and how much is a ridiculous rant, but tomorrow I am going on a date with a super hot candidate for a kept bedroom boy and I am very excited about it. This is going to be my next adventure.

Technology, I'm drowning

Its not enough to get your MacbookAir get wet on a boat in Venice, but even if you 're purchased a computer and reinstalled all the software and reimported all your email messages you're still drowning. Still there is a number of business emails that need to get answered, there is a number of provate emails that you put on the back burner and they sort of fall out later unnoticably from your memory. Then there is a number of friends that you want to stay in touch with but you need to write them a god damn email because nobody is available on the phone these days anymore, and on top of everything there is 100 messages a day from Gayromeo or your other favorite gay portal where people tell you how hot you are but none of them is really interested in anyhting beyond sex. I think I need an agent just to sort out those. People praise technoilogy and in the past it was thanks to the lack of global communications that we has less anxiety and less distraction. Its ridiculousd that I have to go on the boat on the Amazon river to read the book because thats one of the few remaining spots in the world where the communication is patchy so you can relax.

Adventure in Paris

What do you do when you have seen hi culture at the Louvre during the day - of course for balance you go as low as possible, best in a basment fool of man odour, sticky floor and and very dimly lit corners with slings and men deep breading from poppers and arms penetrating their asses beyond the limits they though they were capable of.

Adventure in Paris

What do you do when you have seen hi culture at the Louvre during the day - of course for balance you go as low as possible, best in a basment fool of man odour, sticky floor and and very dimly lit corners with slings and men deep breading from poppers and arms penetrating their asses beyond the limits they though they were capable of.

We were butt naked with only poppers in my socks. I decided to have sex with this guy who was amazingly built and very dominant. Mean looking tough face with rippling muscles, shaved torso and clearly bodybuilder legs. But as with many men - they look tough and when you slap them in the face with full force they crawl up into a ball and are ready to do whatever you tell them. This one was different. Not only he slapped me back in a manner that my bf and another friend who was visiting thought my jaw was in pieces, but by doing this turned mo on so much that I had no choice but respond with the same courtesy which he took like a man and again slapped me back. We went like that back and forts for good 3 minutes, my jaw was swelling and I could taste traces of blood in my mouth. Fuck, this drove me mad for him. So we started also gut punching as had as we could and then kicking and then grabbing each other violently and throwing against the wooden walls to the point they started collapsing. We made so much noise and especially so sexy because each scream caused by a painful punch was a major turn on to the entire smallish club. People started walking up to see what's going in. It was real cage fighting with kissing and viagra hard cocks. We were loud and extremely violent and hyper sexual. Every pinch to the wall or the floor included a kiss and a punch the same time. Our bodies were dripping sweat and thus glittering in the red and blue neon lights as if we put an oil on. So it was the time to decide who is the tougher cookie of the two and after whole club was watching we had our honor and alpha masculinity on the line. So my muscular adversary caught me standing straight facing him and tought of a "brilliant" idea to kick me with his heavy military boots straight in my cock and balls. That with full force. Last second I blocked his move but he caught my arm and twisted it to retry why I cant defend myself. In the same second I felt sharp excruciating pain rushing down from my neck to my shoulder and I started screaming more than before. He pinned me agains the wall and tried to fist me with a bit of spit to popular applause, but for some reason I was screaming louder and louder. Many though we were having so much fun. It took me a good moment to stop the craziness and panting heavily, dribbling my words I say - you dislocated my shoulder. This was like a bucket of ice-water on the heads of my top and my bf who was the closest. My shoulder and whole arm was killing me and it was in a wrong place and looked almost funny by being twisted. We thought what to do - public hospital in Paris during the night far away by cab ride seemed like impossibility. Ambulance was also out of question with all those drugged up patrons taking their heavenly bliss in the slings. So after a while we thought we'll set it back into place. Well that idea didnt go so well as we started pulling hard on my wrist that was starting to hurt equally bad. I was convinced after this little intervention I will have two joints dislocated. So I was screaming again. Then we left it alone not to scare off all the clients and my bf started gently massaging this area and after a minute, click! it popped into its place. Still hurt awfully but at least it was pain that I knew will recede. For now I had to mask it with another pain so I jumped in the sling, grabbed the guy I played with and told him to double fist me no matter how much I scream unless I say stop. So with half a can of crisco and a liter of jlucb both of his hands were sliding in and out of my asshole at the same time. Dislocated shoulder didnt exist at the moment. Another hit of poppers and my ass was ready for almost anything as it often seems on poppers. After 30 minutes i decided to go home and rest but the memory will stay in my mind forever. What a fantastic sex. I just wisch my jaw was less swallen!
The name of the place was Keller but it just closed recently. French are often crazy, and so are the Polish I guess.

Did I really do that...?

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A breakfast by Joy

I wake up slowly, usually like to sleep in but int he last days my natural waking up pattern has been disrupted by something wonderful. namely Joy - the cute as a button, naked ripped THai bodybuilder who comes in in all his glory and lays upon me kisses and says, its time to wake up, breakfast is ready. Now by breakfast he means the plate of scrambled eggs with neatly chopped tomatoes he's holding in the other hand. I am not sure if should eat him first or the breakfast. AS I seat he plays with my hair, smiles like a mother smiles to a child and looks at me with the eyes completely devout of anxiety. I feel peace, and as I am greedily bolting the scrambles ,y stomach feels no usual morning starvation - in other words visually and culinarily I am fully satisfied and I'm waiting for the moment of pure bliss when I'm still lying down with ny raging hard morning and he sits shirtless across my hips and says: would you like some Thai tea now? Who could say no to that. He feeds me the tea mouth to mouth while I feel my cock is going to explode from my underwear, partially that this 90kg stud sits exactly on my bladder. But view for his muscular chest with just the right tattoos is too blissful to be interrupted so I drink the tea, kissing my matins vision time after time.
And its been like this each morning my main boyfriend Davide goes to sleep to another bedroom not to be bothered. Except this morning after the tea kissing routing I just had to bend him over, throw him on all his fours stick a couple of fingers to loosen that tight Thai military ass and raw fuck him until I lost all the wind. He of coursed loved the violence but responded with the most gentle fisting of my ass which I completely didn't plan for this morning but what can I do - when a cute faced pile of rippling tattooed muscles asks - can I fist you now? I dont want to pretend that even for a s[split second I consider saying now. So in the manner owed to all monks who do each simplest tasks with care and solemnity, Joy has managed to put it in a few times and make me cum, to which ho was proud like a kid who would his first mushroom on a high school forrest trip.
Now its 5.28 am. Joy starts his ritual at 8, two and a half hours from now. I dont know if I can even sleep.

Coming back to Europe

So like all the good things three month long winter in Brazil ends on this airplane back to Venice. Somehow Prokofiev's second concerto tastes good again. It became one of the pieces I was listening to hundreds of times falling in love with venice this past summer. When I left for Brazil I was not able to listen to it again with much pleasure. Somehow the beach in Rio didnt fit and the Amazon forrest called of all the things for Schostakovitch. Strange, but the half way back through the atlantic my synapsis are firing again to the Prokivievs tune and I feel drunk on it again. Lucky me.

Yesterday in Rio I wined and dined Marco Aurelio after recording his interview, yet even the straight line descendant of a Roman cesar cant make the models wake up in the morning and in effect this morning we didn't shoot the last scene. While eight o'clock quietly drifted by no hookers rang our door.

Ok so now I have to reveal who Marco Aurelio really is. Its funny; as I am typing this secret revealing sentence, the third movement of the Prok. concerto is just beginning laying down oddly perfect dramaturgy of growing anticipation in expectation for some grand resolution, which in case of this score opening comes indeed in form of tour de force cascading octaves landing always on the powerful bottom chord which in context sounds like its made of steel and could very well announce not only an entry of our hero but a whole army of Xerxes. By the way Evegeny Kissin in this recording under Ashkenazy does his usual magic and you are left wondering if Prokofiev really imagined how overwhelmigly beautiful and forceful at the same time this concerto really was. You can draw a charging elephant on the paper an it can be impressive but when one is actually coming down on you, all the fibers in your body...well you can imagine. Although if some of you after reading this pick up this CD and listen to this concerto, do yourself a favor and consider the thrid part as the last part. This way this concerto creates a better whole as the last movement just makes things worse. Here it is - I said it - I'd leave it out Mr. Prokofiev - sometimes less is more. The first three movements seem written with a single pen stroke and form a whole, although one that ends abruptly. But I don't perceive that as a problem. In contrast the factual last (4th) movement feels for the first half of it forced, as if it was written because it would be well seen if somehting else was there but the thematic material doesnt have anything to do witht he first three parts and seems oddly detached. All that till the heartfelt cadenza happening midway to the end but then the out of place music returns, ending the movement in the rondo form but still with nothing in common with three earlier parts. I say in this case castration is the way to go.

Oh and last but not least this concerto, especially the third movement, is a fantastic sex music - that of course if you can take the intensity which will blow your senses to the orbit. This reminds me of so many guys who privately had sex with me and remember it with details after years. I of course dont remember them but when they come and tell me what a feat this was but they forget that sex was good, maybe even mindblowing for them but a lot of that manipulation was created by classical music blasting on the speakers on my playroom in just the right moments. Drugs for sex can be good but classical music can is the most potent amplifier of all. 

The best is that for me music, particular fragments of it can be on occasion the cue-cards for my brain to unlock the old registries of memory. So I listen to the particular assage and like a keycode it unlocks the smell and color of early morning fish market in venice. For an instant you're transported to the place and can hear the burgundy courtains flaping in the wind, smell the fish water mixed with sparkly white crushed ice standine geverywhere in alloy basins. And for a second you're there for real more then you are here. This is one of the magical aspects of music and those miraculous journeys in time and place dont only apply to fishmarkets - imagine what other memory in a mind of a pornstar could be triggered.

Stuck in the sexiest city with a sexiest man (and an ash cloud)

Some may think that it is almost comical - a man who wants to move away from sex driven life, gets stuck with the hottest guy, in sex capital of the world in an SM apartment due to volcano eruption. Most would say it sounds like a lot of bs. That man is me and the city is Berlin - the most sexually free city on the planet, and clearly the one with most grounded flights. At least I was sent home from the airport three times, today being my most recent. Thanks god there is this hottest guy in this story, who can make driving back and forth to the airport all that much more bearable. Still what am I doing with a Thai boy who's name is Joy in an SM apartment, I dont know. I guess as I've been trapped in Berlin since last week, I've thought of using the time to film a new fisting flick so the apartment came handy, but sleeping in a playroom with a super hot guy who is just discovering his fisting top talents is not exactly a way to avoid excessive sex. Below is the pic of mr perfect. The funny thing is - he has sex like a pornstar, he looks like a pornstar and he photographs lie a pornstar but he doesn't want to do porn. I respect that, even in the moments when he checks out his muscles in the mirror every time he passes. I myself drool over his tattooed biceps with big veins every time he's diving his arm inside my butt, but who woudn't; the view is priceless.

Lid in the sandbox - Its so cool to have my own blog

Its kind of cool to have your own blog and share your thoughts with whoever is there listening in the outer space. And even cooler is that the form doent call for a lot of planning like a book would. You just write what you always wanted to say about somehting, a thought that has been bouncing in your head for a while or years even, and bumm! - its there - neatly expressed on the paper and emptied from my brain and I dont have to repeat it again. But as you keep on reading it will seem that despite the suggestive title of Matthias von Fistenberg's adventures, Matthias lives a lot inside his head and you'll read a lot more on his thoughts and musings on the world than on his actual actio adventures. I somehow find the essence of the world to be in the analisis of the facts then in facts themselves thus writing about my perspective seems far more entertaining than describing the facts in an action novel like fashion. This is not to day that I didnt read the lastest Dan Brown novel and dont enjoy well written action suspense, but its not waht I want my blog to be. Rather than followin fistional charachters I prefer to record hear real people I've met and give you my analisis of their actions. Of course me being the central character I'll tell you most of what I do but salt of these pages will be in my observations and digressions. 

Sleepless in Rio

Sleeping in Rio is hard. Not because you cant do it but beacues the weather is fantastic all day and night and you just dont feel like going to bed because you could loose some of the charm of the city by night and i dont mean the nightlife. I end up sitting on the computer till late night and then I go out to my outdoor garden and take a first breath of thick warm air that calm my lungs and says come out come out. And so i do and that in the wee hours of the morning. Today and a couple oof nights before I went out at 5.30 and for thirty minutes before it happened I could practiacally smell the sunrise. At this time everything and everyone, well mostly everyone, is asleep so the city is quiet and its easy to attune your undistracted senses to smells and colors. Everyone has plants in their balconies so despite lot of concrete that created Leblon and Ipanema beach the feeling is often garden-like. Sunrise today was completely forgettable - simply so perfect like on many other days. Burning red, almost purple and flat as a large coin disc rises on the side of Ipanema beach from behind the buildings affording everyone at the beach 5 meter long shadows and illuminating the dramatic mountain at the head of the beach to sweet orange hue. In minutes ocean that was just completely quiet starts murking its morning song and with every repeating chorus of waver grows stronger and stronger. Just like the BWV 544 Bach's Prelude and Fuge which culminates in full swing loud waver rolling over your feet for the first time today and putting your body in a pleasant shiver. Water is warm, 34 degrees outside. Sand is fine and cleaned during every night by the city cervices. Paradise in many respects. And who would want to sleep in paradise at all???

My first post.

So I am sitting like a looser in Rio de Janeiro, or at last I think i am while other people have fun and are pushing their lives forward. Oh God, here it is - a ray of sunshine, from the very first sentence. But let it be, the idea was that I don't care if anyone reads it and I'll write without a filter so lets get to the bottom of this. As in principio I am in Rio de Janeiro and sitting on a couch during a hot night with windows open to the rooftop-garden and sounds of bustling life passing by on the Saturday night streets below. Clearly I am not on the ground floor with people in the restaurants bars and pubs enjoying the night and weather but I am up here only listening to to all and growling that in fact I am not somewhere else. That somewhere else is home which is Venice, Italy. Place now cold and dark with lots of fog and occasional freezing high water soaking your shoes and pants when you try to cross the courtyard to get to the front door of the house. Place which I came to love and which is an oddest of choices to live but one which now additionally pulls my thoughts like a magnet. And why? Well its simple, primitive in fact - jealousy. After my boyfriend sent me a picture of Jonnie Depp standing in a balcony of a palace very close to mine, I cant stop thinking about it and saying to myself why is it that I am not the guy on top of my game making a movie in Venice, having everyone run around him helping him create a piece of work that is as much amusing in making as it is developing. This is the killer of my evening - Jonnie Depp and his success are a killer. I feel like if I were home I could myself go out to my balcony stretch my arm and almost touch them. Its awful. Hollywood normally leaves you alone, its somewhere out there in the studios in Santa Monica with executives and actors you never see. But this time hollywood in its finest arrived in my front yard and what am I doing about it? Nothing - sitting in my roof garden reading a monologue play about the domineering sadistic schoolteacher forcing eight-graders into submission and force-feeding them sexual education they are not ready for. Play is called Miss Margarida's Way and it was famous in its haydey - that being int he 70s, supposedly produced on Broadway and all over. I even bumbed in Rio into one older gentleman from New York City who recalled it as an evening of terrific fun some twenty years ago. Regardless of how many times Miss Margerida says something funny or surprising still the imposing image of Johhnie Depp in the window of Pisani-Moretta Palace is driving me up the wall tonight. I am going to include that picture here so that its obvious. he also has this ominous look on his face which is a trademark of very focused people.

In the meantime while I am musing here how nice it would be to rub shoulders with hollywood heavyweights, I just got off the phone with one very famous person - Marcus Aurelius - a more modern version of the Roman emperor from the second century. The original one was a famous stoic pholosopher and ruled the civilized world for about 20 years. The one who just called me is also a ruler in his own way but over a completely different domain, and stoic he is not. Who, how and what i am going to say in my next posting. It is ironic so stay tuned.