Music in the tropics

I hear there is snow in Venice, I could not be any more removed from it. Here the biggest difference in weather is if it completely sunny or partially cloudy. Sometimes the wind varies a bit. I bought myself a kite and a board and have been taking kitesurfing lessons. This sport seems a lot of fun but its extremely dangerous as the kite has so much force it can lift you up many feet in the air and it can be fun when its controlled but it terrifying when you dont expect it and get catapulted into the air with razor sharp kite lines cutting through the air and anything they encounter. There are safety fuses to disconnect you but usually everything happens so fast you don't have time to engage them. Windsurfing feels a lot safer though here as well you can get stranded a couple of miles off shore with the wind blowing into the ocean. All this is a very adrenaline and serotonin producing experience so I feel super tired every day and can barely walk home from the beach but at the same time I have a sense of accomplishing something super difficult and highly satisfying. Each day I feel I lived to die another day. I suppose I could be better at both of these sports and have less dramatic experience and but its all about learning and these sports teach you how not to give up. As I am writing this I am rocking in a hammock listening to crickets and Schostakovitch, who's last fuge (d minor, 4 voice double fuge), from the 24 preludes and fuges finally yesterday dawned on me and I felt I understood its meaning and function in the cycle. It took me a year I suppose to get it but I finally understood that the secret lies in a path that you have to walk with him thought the last 10 preludes and fuges and only if you manage to let yourself go and be manipulated by them, the ever-changing roller coaster arrives a this final train stop through a path that needed to be discovered. And then in the end you get a present from him in form of a kind of katharsis that happens at the culmination of that fuge. I read a whole bunch about it because i could not get inside this last fuge. Development, structure and subject seemed odd and not very musical to me. But neither reading or repetitive listening to it detached from the cycle would do the trick. And the yesterday it happened when I followed the path. Still I can understand many comments I read about it being inaccessible as the cycle is long and to listen to it and stay focused till the end required learning by hearth many of the earlier fragments so your brail is not completely tired by the time you arrive at this grand ending. I assume I listened to this cycle over a year and a half at least a thousand times. Some days must have been several times. How's that for music that never gets boring!

Horror before my eyes.

My boyfriend is in a hospital for the past three weeks trying to survive a serious septic shock that was a direct fault direct of two times negligent misdiagnosis at the emergency room. He is in a coma and I am by his bedside days and nights living the horror of something so dear to me being taken away from me by the very same people who were supposed to prevent it. As I cannot manage psychologically the string of never-ending bad news of complications, I try to distract myself thinking of work. Normally I would be studying and shooting porn, but now I have more shocking footage to work on; its a video account of when my current boyfriend was dying and fighting for his life in the past three weeks Its a documentary, me talking to the camera each day recounting events, making some observations, trying not to cry mostly shot in the taxis, hospital hallways with my iphone and two other cameras I have some right in the open, some undercover in the ICU rooms. Story that's filmed live that nobody knows how its going to end - live documentary normally documentary you do after the facts, this one is shown as we go along and at times its as hard to watch as Lars von Trier. The wors it that its all not over yet and it can go either way and I am not keeping the viewer guessing to keep the tension but just present an account of each days events that just happen to be like this. The name of this film will be something like 31 days and I will end it the day when he walks out of the Intensive Care Unit either stable and alive or in a plastic bag. But I need to watch the footage and think what else I should be recording. Just me talking, no matter how captivating it is is not enough. I think I have hours of tape by now. Its interesting its showing the world collapsing around me and how I change and how have to adapt and how horrible choices I have to make to go through it. I am by myself shooting this and I can to be respectful to my boyfriend and really take care of him at the same time so i give him say 13 hours of undivided attention and I film for 15 minutes. There will be many people who will question my motives and will judge me on as many levels as possible, mostly not believing how could I think of helping my bf and at the same time have a head to profit from his and mine suffering. While in fact I am just watching a film happening in front of my eyes and its so gruesome its hard not to film it. Perhaps that documentary is what keeps me sane through those hard days when my life otherwise seems in suspension. When its edited I will set it all the well known dramatic classical music for a greater effect. M

No longer a porn blog?

I could not be any further from writing a porn bog entry and I feel what I'm about to write if in anyway it is only connected to the porn because a porn actor is writing it, but with sex it could not have any less to do. Since we took the blog offline I actually dont know where it exists and if anyone can even read it anymore but I suppose if I can log in it will get published somewhere in the cyberspace.

My new raw top discovery

Most of you dont know that but after the success of the first three Halcyon line movies which I made last year in Brazil I am again in Rio filming awau and wanted to share with you my new raw top discovery. Please let me know if you guys think he has too dark skin for Dark Alley...no pun intended. Other than that I had a lot of very good looking guys participating in the shoots this year. Last two weeks I am having problems filming because guys from the pimp are not willing to work with the guys from the sauna. The ones from the pimp have identity issues and claim they are all straight, the ones from the sauna are wanna be gay and so I have to mobs not being able to be honest with each other, both pretending something they are not, refreshing indeed.

We couldn't be any different.

Not me and you - my reader, of course, although that applies more than I'm aware of, but me and my new beau, who I have no clue why, I thought was not going to be yet another question mark in my disastrous line of wanna-be-boyfriends. Like I wrote you before he's sweet, great looking, body to drool over, loves the same type of sex though didn't have much experience and for a change is a lawyer with a degree in in law and a job as one. Thats refreshing coming from someone who keeps on dating broken house disasters. Well for the lack of the better word I think I failed again or did I?. I spent a few days and got involved with someone who has 3500 G.I. Joe toys in his two bedroom, of course proud of putting them together himself since he was five. Who can blame the guy? If I ewas born here this might be my cultural access and influence. - in Rio more than in other places influence of American modern culture is more apparent than from good old mother Portugal. For joyful carefree need of association with some real culture he tattooed today characters from Almodovar movie Kika on his arm, which must be up there for him with other pinnacles of high culture. I dont know if I dont despise that as much as I envy it. Maybe I should tattoo facsimile Beethoven and Schostakovich on my biceps and dont care what anybody says. And from there its a way downhill with popular but by any means not enlightening TV shows and other mainstream pop movies filling his shelf while the room which he occupies is adorned with a TV the width of his bed. Is he going to make me watch all of them? I guess his free out of jail card were the DVD' of Amadeus and The Hours, but very good films though one more commercial then other. No to mention that he is a Cancer like my father and we all know how well that relationship turned out. Aries and Cancer - not a good match but OK , I'll turn a blind eye on astrology since its not an exact science. In other words we couldn't be any different or more incompatible, and I am fooling myself if I dont admit we can have a different than apparent future where I am gradually becoming bored with his common place interests and predictable character. So where do I make the mistake? I am supposed to be intelligent but an intelligent person makes new mistakes not the old ones. Repeating them with expectation of a different effect is a sign of madness - then I am clearly mad, and why yet again I am fooling myself? Is it the compliments? But why would I fall for such a cheap form of manipulation? Is it the great body, cute face and gorgeous smile - all the things that will perish in time, or os it my own inability to date someone my age who doesn't look most fresh. The last four guys I dated are 6 to 7 years younger and their young looks make me feel younger, thats for sure. They are all 29 or 30 but thats not change the fact I'm going to be 40 in 4 years. So why do I persistently keep on dating "children". I gather its their curiosity and the fact that making them fall in love with me is so easy. They're innocent and I show them things they've never done before. It is that simple they discover themselves through me so they are smart to go along with it but why do I do it, what do I discover? Most likely I am searching for myself as much as they do and since its so difficult to grow through development with people who know more than you do, you can grow by observing yourself with people that know and understand less. The innocence is always like a clean slate you can write of or a breath of fresh air, hard to come by in an intelligent person as its usually guarded, but once on the inside you have unrestricted access to it and maybe its just fun to see how you can mold it. Perhaps this is why I spend my time with them its just like being a parent and seeing them grow - except the fun is much more involving when you raise a 29 year old into what you want. Did I mention that he is charming and helpful and intelligent. I dont know maybe I should settle for what I can have and mold - a rough diamond. As long as you do it unnoticeably and to their pleasure you can perhaps mold them. Last but not least it would make sense to have a house in Rio since anyway I am here 3-4 months each year as my arthritis hates the winter and the added benefit is I have already some friends here, my Portuguese is getting there with a funny accent but my new beau is very very helpful in teaching me and almost refuses to speak English. I think we fell in love, so easy with me, and lets see how long it lasts. I feel like a butterfly jumping from one lovely guy to another till I feel I found the right one. Wouldn't be better to have a period of alone time? I dont know without a bf I am very unproductive an depressive. No matter how it ends I am very grateful to each one of them to sharing a period of their life with me and for showering me with kisses and attention and compliments and ultimately becoming my dear friends. So what is there to loose. And if 3500 G.I Joes may seem scary at first it may also signify a lifelong attachment to something one loves and discipline in continuing the interests to the fullest - so its all up the the point of view. All I can say is that despite all my cynicism I am excited to spend the following three weeks in his home where he generously invited me, polish my Portuguese and get to know this sweet guy better. I promise you'll know how it turned out. Matt

Staying in touch.

Thanks God nobody reads this and Owen doesn't care what I write. In fact thats the only reason why I write, so seldom these days but I do often into my laptop, on the planes, stories never finished that go beyond the scope of a blog, mostly because I think as a pornographer I am already judged so nobody is going to judge me even more reading this. Maybe other porn company owners can cast the ultinate judgement that I am not promoting big dicks and using this blog as a personal confession stand rather then pages full of filth thats supposed to sell more product and promote more fake images of "stars". Well here is one that likes to keep things real. So why did I bother to open this window after months? Maybe I was opening it everyday, writing virtually to it just never really seeing the end to any of the stories I started. Real life gets always convoluted in the shortcomings of our own pursuits. Nothing ever works out exactly like it should, there are no easy answers and trivializing life to get them leads to no useful conclusions. Neither today I have nothing really useful to offer, rather yet another confusing question prompted me to write. How do we stay in touch? With our friends, our parents, other people important to us. how do we do it - how do we decide - you will get a personal; letter and you wont, who will get that last bit of attention we have to offer. Our last five minutes before we go to bed or first five before we get out of it to start a busy day. Friends with whom we used to be close but we're not anymore, though there is really no other reason than that we're in another place on earth and they are just not around to meet for coffee. But how could they be we life crazy lives, I least I do 3-4 months a year in my own city, thats not promoting friendship life - thats a disaster for everyone who wants to be your friend. So to get to the core of the issue I think the answer has always been for people in my situation very practical and selfish. yes I'll use this word for there is no other to describe that in life we stay in touch with people who offer us a useful exchange. May it be financial, intelectual, perhaps sexual but always there has to be somtheing they have to offer beyond they telling you news in your life and you telling them news from yours. Such an altruistic friendship is short lived and better maintained as a monologue in ones memory rather than disappointing dialogue of emails with decreasing frequency. So from the bat, who are we not going to write to? Is it more my ex or my exe's mother with whom perhaps I had a closer relationship? Is it my old home doctor or the pharmacist? Which one of them could be more useful in the future? Or maybe even that friend who could get me free concert tickets or another one who had good contacts in the underground. I can never decide between the farther and grandfather though, my landlord or the manager at my former bank, although the latter are less likely to be your friends at all unless you live in a really small city.

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.