Mystery, International Man of

Music to Fuck, Fuck to Music, to Fuck Music

2009-10-18T21:13:00.007+02:00

Because my life always has a soundtrack, also does my sex.

The Bangles - Hazy Shade of Winter
Bryan Ferry - Slave to Love
Bryan Ferry - Is Your Love Strong Enough?
Bryan Ferry - Your Painted Smile
Bryan Ferry - Mamouna
David Bowie - I'm Deranged
David Bowie - Wild is the Wind
David Bowie - The Motel
Duran Duran - Le Chaufeur
Einsturzende Neubauten - Stella Maris
Garbage - Push it
Lou Reed and Marylin Manson - Nightclubbing
Massive Attack - Unfinished Simpathy
Massive Attack - Karmacoma (the Napoli trip)
Massive Attack ft. Tracey Thorn - The Hunter Gets Captured by the Game
Moloko - Where is the What if the What is in Why
Moloko - The Time is Now
Morrissey - Lifegard Sleeping, Girl Drowning
George Michael - Father Figure
Shivaree - Goodnight Moon
P. J. Harvey - The Dancer
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Do you love me?
Prince - The Question of U
Prince - Joy in Repetition
Recoil - Want
The Rolling Stones - Paint it Black
Siouxsie and the Banshees - Face to Face
Tricky - Hell is Around the Corner

Please add to this playlist. Any suggestions will be tried, tested and rated!

Come on.....

2009-05-19T00:08:00.005+02:00

Just now, on the internet

Him - "Come on... give me your ass."
Me - "Sorry, mate. I can give you my heart though!"

... He didn't answer.

Smoking, please.

2009-05-18T22:38:00.005+02:00

First of all, if you are my niece, don't read this post!!

Second, please bring back smoking!!
For years, smoking was considered one of the traits of being a man's man. If you smoked, you were immediately part of the bad boys club. You were masculine and you were dangerous. But, most importantly, you were damn sexy!! Now, come on... if you know how to smoke a cigarette, it's fucking sexy as hell! Not just for men but also for women. There is nothing more beautiful to see a lady, with a perfect manicure, smoking a cigarette and enjoying it.
Nowadays, smoking is a disease and smokers are the anti-crist. Everything is clean, healthy and recyclable. And fucking boring!!! If you smoke, you are treated either with pity or contempt and everyone feels they have the right to step on your own rights!
But i don't want to turn political. This is merely a practical thing.
I miss the days when you would relax with a cigarette after sex. I miss that intimate moment between two men when you would just smoke a cigarette between heavy breaths of exhaustion and beads of sweat (and...) running through you face.

I have just arrived to Istanbul this afternoon and, one of the traits of this city are it's men. They are mean and rough and they fucking smoke. They are true blokes like you don't make them no more. And apparently this is truer than just this statement.
Because I'm done on wasting time, I had a date just a few hours after I arrived to my hotel. This hot young blond boy. Body of a surfer, curls of a cherub. Meeting at Starbucks was just a formality as we walked up to my room 5 minutes later he arrived. I pulled up a cigarette and offered one to him. He refused. He didn't smoke. So I knew introductions were going to be kept to a minimum. Eventually I had to butt my cigarette out to focus on his own butt as the wait was starting to be a bit uncomfortable (that's what you get when u fuck someone who doesn't speak your language!!).
The sex was (smoking) hot!!! The AC was on but the room was still warm from the afternoon sun and soon our bodies were glistening with sweat. The boy had imagination and we ended up doing it lying down, sitting, standing up, on all fours... the works (fucking youths... they have nothing better to do than jerk off to porn flicks and they expect you to be a fucking gymnast. Well, at thirty fucking two, ones joints aren't like they were!!! (were they ever??)). He came twice and I did the workout of the week. We sunk in the rumble of sheets and pillows and I lit up a cigarette. And he asks if he can take a shower. Hey!!! This is when we cuddle! This is when we laugh about things. This is when we fucking relax!! He buggered off to the shower and I was left on the bed with my fag (pun intended!). Now, if he smoked we would have shared that moment. We would have kissed between puffs (no pun intended!) and i would stroke his hair.
So, to my point, even if you didn't have it in the first place, smoking a cigarette would guarantee a bit of a sexual decorum. You don't just cum and go! You share something and those 5 minutes of a cigarette would have ensured just that. There is nothing more sexy and intimate than a shared cigarette after sex. And there is nothing better than smoke a cigarette while your dick is being sucked!! But that's another post (that my niece cannot read as well!).

Thank you for the music!

2009-05-01T14:09:00.004+02:00

When someone fucks you up, why should you bother? I say, save your words and say it with a song!!

Enjoy and use it wisely!!!

GaZpar... thinking of you!!

Fake it 'till you make it!

2009-02-19T01:30:00.004+01:00

I was having a calm cigarette break outside my office today, in one of the busiest gay streets of Madrid (it had to be there!!) when this tranny passes me by.

A few steps down, she stops in her tracks and walks back towards me. She puts on her most beautiful smile and asks me for a light. "Sure", I said. While I was taking my lighter from my pocket, the tranny opens her handbag to dig for her cigarettes and, in the search, takes out a tampon!

"Ok... now that is commitment!", I thought.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

2009-02-16T01:59:00.002+01:00

I kissed a boy and I liked it!

Damn!!

2009-02-13T01:50:00.002+01:00

Three dates without sex.

It's official... I'm married!!

Flattery will take you everywhere!

2009-02-12T01:57:00.004+01:00

My cleaning lady told me today that I look thinner.

I decided to give her a raise!

Acapulco Blues

2009-02-08T20:10:00.004+01:00

"It was dusk on board of the Pacific Princess. Michael sat in a deck chair, smoking a joint and watching the gentle, seductive curve of the beach at Acapulco. The air was warm, and the sky was exactly the color it should have been.
Even before he got stoned.
"Mouse?" It was Mary Ann. Dressed for a date.
"Hi," said Michael.
"I've looked all over for you."
"I'se heah, Miz Schalett."
She pulled up a deck chair and sat on the edge of it. "Are you all right, Mouse?"
He nodded. "I'm always all right."
"You weren't at dinner."
He patted his stomach. "Chubbette."
"Burke and I thought you might... We'd really like it if you came into town with us tonight. Somebody told us about this place called BabyO's."
"Thanks. I don't think I'm up for it that tonight."
"It's a disco."
"Maybe tomorrow, O.K.?"
She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "Are you sure?"
He nodded as her hand slid down the side of his face. His cheek was wet. She sat with him for almost a minute, holding his hand, saying nothing.
"You better go," he finally said. "I'm O.K."
"You're too hard on yourself, Mouse."
He shrugged. "If I don't do it, who will?"
"Mouse, you're the most wonderful-"
"I know, Mary Ann. I know I'm a nice guy. I really do. I know that you love me. I know that old ladies love me and my mother and dogs and cats... and every goddamn person I meet except someone who'll commit himself to... Please, don't get me started."
"Mouse, I wish you could-"
"The hell of it is, I know the answer. The answer is that you never, ever, rely on another person for your peace of mind. If you do, you're screwd but good. Not right away, maybe, but sooner or later. You have to - I don't know - you have to learn to live with yourself. You have to learn to turn back your own sheets and set a table for one without feeling pathetic. You have to be strong and confident and pleased with yourself and never give the slightest impression that you can't hack it without that certain goddamn someone. You have to fake the hell out of it."
"You aren't faking it, Mouse. You are strong."
"I'm tired of it. I'm sick of picking up the pieces and marching bravely onward. I want things to work out just once." He rubbed the corner of his eye, smiled suddenly, and shrugged. "I wanna do a Salem commercial with a Marlboro Man."
Mary Ann squeezed his hand. "We're all that way, Mouse."
"I know, but it works out for some people."
"It'll work out for you."
"No, it won't."
"Mouse..."
"I want it too badly, Mary Ann. Any idiot can see that. When you want it too badly, no one wants you. No one is attracted to that... desperation."
He turned away from her, wiping his eyes.
"Christ!" he said softly, reaching for her hand again. "Look at that sky, will you?"

After Mary Ann and Burke left, Michael spent half an hour in his stateroom reading another chapter of the Isherwood book, then wandered out onto the deck again.
The lights of the city blinked at him beguilingly.
But why should I? he wondered. Why should I put my heart through the wringer again? Who could I find that would possibly matter on a two-day stay in an unfamiliar foreign city?
And should I wear the pink or the green Lacoste?

To be or not to be

2009-02-08T20:00:00.003+01:00

I think I have a compulsive behaviour.

Last Friday a friend of mine gave a 1000 piece puzzle as a challenge.

I finished it... in half a day!

Back from the dead

2008-12-04T00:32:00.003+01:00

She lives!!! SHE LIVES!!!!!!!!

We will always have Paris

2008-11-23T04:41:00.008+01:00

I arrived to Paris with more phone numbers than free nights. I was determined to meet people and have sex with the most amount of people possible. I wanted to prove to myself that I was still out there and I wanted to shake the blues away. I thought I would rest the Monday night and just lay low that evening but as soon as I arrived to the hotel, I had a message from a first suitor. It was this tanned (he happened to be from Lebanon) orthodontist (which was the same to me as dentist) that had chatted with me a couple of days ago. He seemed fun, a bit cocky and he worked also some days a month in my home town. Since I had also been in Beirut, we hitted off and I decided to give him the first night. He came to pick me up to the hotel in this little sports car with red leather seats. His smile was beaming inside and I thought “You definitely are good at what you do and have the money to prove it!” I was looking good and feeling confident about it so I just acted cool. We immediately started chatting and I was feeling comfortable with him. There was something about him that made me feel at ease. I guess it was his smile, the way he looked me in the eyes when he talked to me and his confidence that did the trick. We decided to go to Red, a bar in the Marais which was the only one that had some people on a Monday night. We came to the conversation of music (I hate regular club music – death to electronica and house) and he asked me, if I was such a fan of the 80’s, who was singing on the radio. It was pure luck but I said “Paul Simon”. I was right. He was impressed. I scored. We parked the car and before getting out, we kissed. We kissed as if we had kissed a million times before. No hesitation, no shiver, no anticipation… we just kissed, looked at each other, smiled and carried on as if it was just another kiss.
As we walked in the club, I felt eyes turning toward me. I was new meat in the market and the regulars were checking me out. He decided to show me around the club, like if he owned the place. I could understand that he was a regular as well. We walked into the bar and he ordered our drinks saying “I’ll buy the first round.”. “You cocky mother!”, I thought. As the bartender put the drinks on the bar, I reached over him (he was shorter than me) and took care of the check. He argued with me. I smile and just replied “Better be quick!”. We sat on some stools available and continued our chatting. We were feeling good with one another and our body language (and body contact) was proof of that. In comes the friend that he told me might come as well. He introduced me and he was my sort of bloke that, to make me feel comfortable, disses his friend and tries to demystify him. After a while we decided to get out of there and he wanted to take me to a bears bar. It never was my cup of tea but I was willing to go. For my luck, the place was empty and we turned around. “Ok. If you want to take me somewhere, take me to the Sacre Coeur. I would love to see it.”, I said. With a smile on his face, he just walked me to the car and got the directions from the GPS.

The night was chilly and misty. Rain kept pouring on and off as we were strolling around the cathedral. The lights were dim at 1.30 in the morning and only the tip of the dome was lit. He showed me his favourite view of the monument and it was really beautiful. I just decide to embrace him and we kissed once again, right there, next to the nuns quarters. We came to the front again, walked down the stairs and we had entire Paris at our feet. The view was something coming out of an old gothic book and it was the perfect setting for us. Again we were in each other arms and kissed romantically on top of Paris. Finally I understood this city title! It was one of the most romantic things I had ever done! We decided to go back to the hotel and I invited him up. I just didn’t want this night to end and, apparently, neither did he. The sex, for me, was incredible. Nice, sensuous, slow, discovering each other bodies and trying to give the maximum pleasure to the other as possible. He had this perfect fit body that I could just not get enough. Touching his arms and feeling his muscles, running my fingers through his back, feeling his perfect round butt and letting my hands go down to his thighs. His neck line with this perfect cropped hair were like a glove to my hand that pulled his face closer to mine so I can shower his lips with kisses. Our tongues seemed to melt together, as if it always had been there and we were in perfect synch with each other. I fell asleep at 5 am, with a day long meeting the next day at 11.30.

The next day I just felt good about myself. This total stranger had treated me like I wanted to be treated. It seemed that he knew exactly what made me tick and I had forgotten all the other phone numbers I had on my list. But I had decided to treat this as a fabulous one night stand and make nothing more of it. When I arrived to my hotel room that night, my phone had a message from him, sent that afternoon. “Just to wish you a good meeting and give you a kiss”. Fuck the others! “Do you fancy a coffee tonight?” An hour later, he was at my hotel door, picking me up again. Mind you that he lived outside Paris so I was really impressed by his willingness.
As I hoped in the car, I surprised him with a box of macaroons and gave him a kiss like I would to my long time partner. He replied with the same naturalness and we drove off. He took me to the Notre Dame, like if it was my first time in Paris and we went down on some Quai to walk along the Seine. The shores were absolutely deserted and there were rats under the bridges and the moonlight was reflecting on the river as we looked at the back of the Notre Dame. Right there, under the streets, it felt the city was ours and we were inside a Poe tale. We just walked the streets of Paris finding some place to have a relaxed coffee. We finally found a place in front of the Pompidou and we sat outside so I could smoke. The place was inhabited by these artistic night crawlers and us, that kept talking and laughing and teasing and making fun of each other. I felt like a kid with his boyfriend that in between jokes would kiss his man to make him realise that I was just kidding. And he would do the same. At two something in the morning I saw him fiddling with the bill that was long on the table. “What are you doing?!”, I asked. “Being quicker!”

As we were driving on the way back to the hotel, he looks at the watch and puts his foot down on the gas. “We have 4 minutes!”, he says. We arrive to the Eiffel Tower just in time to see it start to shine with thousands of blinking lights. It felt like a shower of stars on top of us, as we kissed in the cold night.
He dropped me in the hotel and we said goodnight. He didn’t come up.
I could not wait for the fucking meetings to end and I still had drinks to attend to. I was so not in the mood for social calls and I just wanted to pick up the phone and call him. Finally it was over and I was dialling his number. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” “I don’t think I can. I am supposed to go to a football match with a friend. Let me call you in 10 minutes.” “So, shall I pick you up in 45 minutes?” I was fucking beaming!!! We went to this lovely restaurant that he normally goes to to have confit de canard and foi gras. I invited him to spend the night but he can’t, as he has things to do early in the morning. Without me saying anything, he just parks the car and comes with me to the hotel room. Once again our bodies are together, naked. I just wanted to give him pleasure and I kiss him all over his body, to take him in my mouth. He wants to hold but I tell him to just let go and enjoy it. He finally comes over me and I keep sucking him nice and slow, until he gets hard again. I could have gone like this forever but he stops me and makes me roll to my stomach. He gives me the most sensuous body massage. Feeling him on top of me, his hands running through every centimetre of my body and his lips kissing my skin was driving me insane. He masturbated me until I could not take it anymore and we finish on each others arms, exhausted. The pleasure he gave me was amazing, totally unselfish. We both wanted to take care of the other and make him feel good and it felt beautiful.

He calls me the next day and tells me that he is too tired and not feeling well so he would stay in that night but that he wanted to take me to the airport. At 4.30 pm of Friday, I am putting my luggage inside his red leather seat car.
“What’s wrong with you?”, he asks. “Nothing. I’m ok.”. I wasn’t. I hated goodbyes and I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. Something had happened that week and I didn’t want to loose it. I had decided to take it as it was: an incredible, fantastic week but again, my heart was not obeying my head. This perfect stranger, without knowing anything about me, my situation, my state of heart, had gave me everything I ever wanted in a guy, without asking anything in return. Traffic. He changes routes. I find myself driving through residential areas. I wish he took me to his place. I tell him that. I tell him that I can stay. He doesn’t answer. We keep driving. We start talking about music to ease the tension. I tell him what I like. He tells me that he adores Kate Bush. I tell him that I stay if he wants me to. He refuses to make a decision. I have 10 minutes before my check in closes. We are still driving. I don’t want to stay because I lost my plane but because he wants me to. We arrive to the airport but a truck is blocking the road. I get out of the car and run to the check in. He doesn’t stop me. He meets me outside while I’m smoking a cigarette and starts joking about. “Are we gonna fuck about or are we gonna talk about this?”, I ask him. The questions are all there. What happened? What are we gonna do about it? Are we gonna leave it as it is or are we gonna try and work something out? Are we gonna see each other again? When? Are we gonna drag this or just keep it in our memories? None of us has answers for this and none of us are ready to give them. I want to try. He doesn’t know. We will leave it for the future to decide and I see the tears in his eyes while he sees the tears in mine. We don’t cry as we hug each other. “I wanted to kiss you but I don’t feel comfortable with all these people around.”, he says. By this time I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to go away. He walks me to the security check and there is this monstrous cue. Fuck!!! He stays there with me. We both are nervous. He goes in to the funny route, I go to the bitter route. We both have to calm down. This is hard for both of us and knowing that gives me some comfort. As I walk closer to the security check, he pulls my face and kisses my lips. I hold him in my arms and kiss him back. I go through the line and don’t look back as he is left behind. My phone rings. It’s him. I can’t find my fucking boarding gate and I want to hang up. It’s the other fucking way. I go back. “I have to go.” “Wait! Turn around”. Through the glass I see him looking at me with that perfect smile on his face. He is still there, waving me goodbye and talking to me on the phone. “I want to say something that I will regret.”. “Don’t say it.”, he replies. As I hung up the phone, I softly whisper. “I love you.”

The last of the famous civilized cities

2008-11-14T02:00:00.004+01:00

I've spent the week in Athens.
Where decadence fills the air, where dark alleys are inviting, where men are men and look at you dangerously in the eyes.
Where November nights are warm, where strangers hop into your taxi cab, where cigarette smoke fills up bars, where food is refreshing and every greek word a guy says to you sounds like an invitation.
Where the traffic is murder, where the walks are relaxing, where ancient gardens are cruising areas, where coffee tastes like coffee, where cigarettes are cheap and everybody smokes.
Where people follow their beat, where everything can be done tomorrow, where stress disappears in beads, where dogs linger the streets, where a sweaty neck becomes attractive because it is thick as a log.
Where women remind you of Callas, where the smell of spices gets on your skin, where old gods incite you to vice, where every morning is lazy and every night awake.
Where men are rough, where men are tough, where men kick you in the teeth and then take it up the arse.
Where chaos seems right, where everything fits, where people are real, where leisure is sexy, where luxury feels like it, where people are friends and tell you like it is, where opportunities await, where you want to feel lost, where you want to disappear, where you want to let go and abandon yourself adrift.
I've spent the week and Athens and I can't wait to come back!

Pure Sex

2008-11-14T01:25:00.006+01:00

This is probably the hottest music video ever created.

In 1983, director Ian Emes gave Duran Duran this masterpiece. A mix between Helmut Newton photos, Charlotte Rampling in The Night Porter and Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour, this video is the portrait of an era and the highest expression of the erotic.

The hypnotic beat of the music and the image of the pulse of a drumming engine the lyrics suggest leaves anyone on the verge of masturbation. The urge, desire and complicity of these two women suggests the ultimate pleasure literally as "le petit mort", where desire and death walk hand in hand.

Thinking of you, Teasy!!

For my Nan...

2008-11-11T00:41:00.002+01:00

May it now be a garden of white tulips.

You are always in my heart and looking over me.

Never goodbye!

Lost in translation

2008-11-08T00:53:00.006+01:00

Conversation, just now, in a gay chat room

"xxx > you very sexy. do you recieve?

p.a. > recieve?! like entertain, throw tea parties and shit?! :)"

... he didn't get it!!

M. Angel

2008-11-03T03:18:00.001+01:00

Tonight I found an Angel.

Desperate Housewife

2008-10-30T20:19:00.004+01:00

I have just realised that the time it takes to unfrost a chicken is the time it takes to savour a nice cock!

Glück

2008-10-28T00:39:00.003+01:00

party Glück! from Vjslurp on Vimeo.

Now THIS is my kinda party!!!!!!

Big Apple

2008-10-19T17:51:00.004+02:00

I'm going to New York City!

I'm going to New York City!!!

Life is a Parade

2008-10-16T19:43:00.011+02:00

Last Saturday I bought a movie. It was a movie that I've been meaning to buy for a long time because it was research material for my work. The movie was Party Monster and I got hooked.

The movie is the story of the Club Kids movement in New York. How Michael Alig took downtown New York by storm after the death of Andy Warhol and how the world followed.

He was hired as a Party Promoter for the club Limelight and Disco 2000 was born. A mix of Techno and House music, with the best NY misfits where "don't dream it, be it" seemed to be the motto and... lots of drugs.

His outrageous personality and out of this world looks (Lee Bowery, anyone) inspired others and the Club Kids where born. Selected by their uniqueness and their self expression, they went on to take NY and the rest of America by storm with their illegal parties in donut shacks, McDonalds, subway stations and even the inside of a truck and the subsequent tours to other American States.

The dream ended in tragedy (don't they all?) when Alig was arrested by killing one of his drug dealers with a hammer and then sawing off his legs and dumping the limbless torso in the Hudson River.

The story was quickly picked up by the press and a tell all book came along that was the inspiration for a documentary and a motion picture.

The author of the book (Disco Bloodbath) was James St. James. Because nothing is created out of the air, James St. James was Aligs mentor in the beginning, teaching him the tricks of the trade. The student got bigger than the master and this celebutant was relegated to the position of Michaels side kick as Club Kid #2.

If I always was fascinated by the likes of Lee Bowery and Boy George, I was fascinated to know the US version of it all. Specially because a lot of them are still alive and kicking and being very influential in the trend world of today.

The scene is still alive but not like before (there can never be another Studio 54!). Just think of the ravers in Germany or the BoomBox kids in London. This is where it all began!

Life is a Parade!! - Part Deux

2008-10-16T19:08:00.013+02:00

Club Kids Hall of Fame. These are some of the originals!

Amanda Lepore - First high profile tranny that was celebrated amongst the Club Kids. She is the muse of David LaChapelle and still works on NY nightlife

Superstar Dj Keoki - Picked up on a nightclub with free drinks cards by Alig, was turned into his boyfriend and Superstar Dj overnight. He still spins.

Richie Rich - Brought from LA to join the fun, he is now, together with Trevor Rains, responsible for the hit fashion label Heatherette.

Walt Paper - He was Aligs PA and works now as a visual artist in NY. Have you ever wondered where Marilyn Manson got his ideas from?!

Party Monster - The Motion Picture

2008-10-16T18:39:00.008+02:00

Seth Green, Macaulay Culkin, Chloe Sevigny, Marilyn Manson... these are some of the names that worked on the motion picture based on the Michael Alig story.

This is what got me hooked and made me do all of this research. This and Kabuki. By no means I want to glorify the actions of Michael Alig or is life style, that I strongly believe should be condemned but... everything starts with a dream and what a beautiful one it was!

And, btw, wouldn't mind being home alone with Macaulay Culkin, with that ass and legs!!! Hmm

Follow the links

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBa8WMEmKGo

Party Monster - The Shockumentary

2008-10-16T18:18:00.007+02:00

This is the documentary that was made after the launch of Disco Bloodbath, by James St. James.

The hype of the press and the tell all of the original Club Kid inspired director Fenton Bailey to find out what, where and how it happened from the mouths of the people involved. Interviews with Alig himself before going to jail (where he actually admits killing Angel) and the rest of the pack gives you a clear picture of what was going on at the time.

Follow the links

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHgrnIdQqoE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMAcxGXSctg&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdw9hKt22KU&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zYcs_7poI4&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-TKk5j1VCw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9IM8y49iIw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jdn83Ofx_k&feature=related

Kabuki Starshine

2008-10-16T18:01:00.009+02:00

This is how Kabuki, the make up artist genius of today, started.

Back then he was Kabuki Starshine and he was a showstopper everytime he appeared with the other Club Kids.

After Limelight and Michael Alig, he was a part of the performance group the Blacklips and he toured Europe as well.

Back in the days.

Hairdresser on fire!

2008-10-14T02:55:00.005+02:00

The last of Fashion Weeks. The season is officially over. People can go to their homes, the craziness is gone. For three months, at least.

And yes, I haven't forgot. The result of my searches: the hottest looking hairdresser backstage, Paris Spring Summer 09.
Have no idea about his name (nor he mines) but that's beside the point. If I was a masochist, he would be my future ex-boyfriend! What do you think?

By Sunday the 5th, the season is over for me. I skip the last day of shows cause I'll be doing 3 countries in just one day: France by morning, Spain by the afternoon and Russia at dawn. Look out, Moscow, here I come... if I can survive it, that is!

What the...?!

2008-10-14T02:19:00.004+02:00

4 October... part deux!

Here I am again on the bus, already late for Chloé. Saturday, in the gardens of the Louvre. Can there be more tourists?! Can people move any slower? Does anybody have a fucking croissant? (I was hungry!! Breakfast was at 6 in the morning, remember?!)

I get there middle of the demo. Young, gorgeous, beautiful, no mascara mascara, no blush blush... just a flush and bushy no brows brows. Everything have to be there but you can't see anything. Think Brooke Shields, think Jerry Hall. "How's the foundation?" I ask a colleague. "Same old, same old." Right, got it. No sweat. I just be in my zone and do this, no prob.

I set up and immediately was ambushed by an agent of the girls "You are gonna do her make up. She wants you!" This was the girl that I had to do rushing on the last show. Apparently she liked my work. I was flattered. So I start and I do my brows and I do my eyes... "Charlotte, is this ok?". "Foundation is too thick, darling." has she was slapping the foundation off the model. "Take it off and do it again." O-Ok. So I make the foundation thinner. Is this ok? "Ergh... Send her to Lucia, darling... she will fix her." What the...?! What was wrong with it? I decided not to worry and have a fag instead. I was too tired to be bothered. Got the opportunity to talk to some old hairdresser friend from Portugal that was also doing the shows (and yes, he is also very cute!). It was great to catch up and have a little breath from home.

Fag over, back to my station where Charlotte was giving interviews. The woman is absolutely a media star!! And it was during her interviews that I found out what I was doing wrong!! Totally different texture of foundation. She wanted transparent and I was using full on. "Not the same old, same old" I thought to myself. Second girl comes along, I use the right foundation. Yes! I wouldn't be caught again. Beautiful skin, great brows... "She's too pale, darling. Have you used the mix, darling? C4, C5?" Y-Yes (I was using C2). What the fuck?!? Why nobody tell me these things?! If it's "same old, same old" it's suppose to be thick as spit foundation and slightly paler. Mother fuckers! I was way over it. By the time the girl came from rehearsal, another artist had taken her so I decided to go for another fag and prepare for bodies. I was way past caring so I just carried my moisturizer around and looked busy.

By the time the show was over it was 5 pm and I was starving! On my way to the bus, I see the photographer I met at Westwood. "I could eat me some of that" I thought!

The good guy

2008-10-14T01:57:00.005+02:00

4 October

I have the early call time. This means Kenzo at 5 fucking A.M. Still, it's a great show and it's with Charlotte Tilbury. She is always fun so worth waking up at this ungodly hour... darling!

I get on the bus, go to the venue when I am told to stay in the bus because they need to talk to me before I go. "What?! What have I done?" - I was running through the week in my head to see if I was in some kind of trouble. So... apparently, I was booked for 3 shows that day (physically impossible since they overlapped each other) so, if I wouldn't mind, I was needed more on another show than at Kenzo. "Sure, no problem!". Why on earth did I have to wake up at 4.30 in the morning if the other show had only an 8 a.m call time?! It was not funny.

What was funny though, was the show I was on. Elie Saab and the key make up artist is one of the family. I love working with Gordon Espinet since it's always very relaxed and I had done Elie before so I knew what was going on. I knew that I was in for some make up make up. Not that shit of no make up make up and I wasn't disappointed. This was 90's super model! Think Cindy, think Turlington. monochromatic beauty with huge great eyes! There is a motto backstage that is "There can't be only one!" and in this case, the mantra continued. It was product on top of product, shade on top of shade to make it blend and melted onto the skin. The make up looked bloody gorgeous!

Of course, because the day hadn't started right, I was in for some more treats. Half the models were coming in late. The show is suppose to start at 11.30 am and the girls are suppose to arrive at 11.45. You do the math. But I'm rough and I'm tough. It's for last minute rushes that I'm build for and, once again, I didn't fail. Nice adrenaline rush to keep me awake. I still needed to do go to another show and I was late, already.

No idea how the clothes were, no clue about the line up. After I finished my last girl (3 in total... I was happy!) I had to pack my shit up and head on to Chloé. The day was half done.

Fuck!

2008-10-14T00:54:00.000+02:00

Not to scare anyone or nothing but... i think I just met the father of my children!

I Blow at Conde Nast

2008-10-07T23:46:00.005+02:00

The last post about Alexander McQueen stirred up some memories that I could not help to share with you.

I work in fashion and everybody thinks that it's incredibly glamorous and we meet fabulous people all the time. Well, one day I did. And her name was Isabella Blow.

Stylist, fashionista, muse but, above all, a lady! I was doing Paris Fashion Week several years ago and I was informed that I needed to go to the Ritz hotel and do the make up for Isabella Blow. I immediately turned white. I hate doing celebrities, specially the ones I admire and this one was making me very nervous. For years she was a figure that I admired for her persona, her style, her poise and her personal look. And now I was being asked to create (recreate) that look.

I headed to the hotel and waiting in the lobby was scary enough. If you went to the Ritz in Paris you know that you can breath aristocracy, wealth and style. I was eventually summoned to her room and all the scenarios were going through my mind. "She is going to be a bitch, she is going to hate my make up, she is going to kick me out of her room, she is going to humiliate me..." I was ready for the worse when I knocked on her door. This very busy woman, with a white satin robe and jet black bob opens the door. "Miss Blow? I am here to do your make up."

"Oh, hello, darling. Am I having my make up done today? I totally forgot you were coming. Come in, sweety. Sorry for the mess but I am packing. You see, I have to go to Italy to do a movie. They insisted that I had to do an appearance on this movie. Apparently it's about this sea explorer like Jacques Cousteau. Anjelica Huston and Bill Murray are in it and the director is just a darling. He did the Tenenbaums. Did you see it?" -"Yes, I did.", I replied. "I loved it!" -"Didn't you? Oh, isn't it just the funniest thing? And smart! Of course, I couldn't say no to him. Shall we go to the bathroom, darling? It's all so short notice but it will do me good, darling. You see..."

"Oh, my God! I'm doing make up for Edina Monsoon!", I thought in my head. We headed for the bathroom and she sat on the edge of the bath tub. I asked what she liked and she just told me to do something natural, with a bit of an eyeliner but nothing too fancy. And she kept talking all the time. She was telling me about herself, about her life, about her husband, about her heartaches... But she was also asking about me. We were actually sharing stories and giving opinions about them. I was feeling like I was talking to a friend, someone that needed to talk about her life but also that cared for the life of others.

While I was doing her make up, she had her eyes closed but she kept saying "Thank you, darling!", "Oh, it's beautiful, darling!", "Oh, I love it, sweety!". Not once she opened her eyes! I was loving this woman and I was feeling like I was on episode of Ab Fab. When I finished her eyes, I asked her to take a look and tell me what she thought. "Oh, darling! It's amazing! I love it! You are very talented! I feel beautiful! I love it!" She was beautiful but not from the make up. From the energy she gave, for this incredible human being that had this simplicity about her that was disarming.

I finished the make up with her signature red lip and started packing up my kit. She was now moving around the room when I ear her picking up the phone. She was calling the concierge "Hello, darling? Oh, I need to leave today and I was wondering if you could send someone up to help me pack. Oh, thank you!" As I entered the room, she is putting the phone down and looks at me "I just don't know where I put one shoe! I'm hopeless! Thank God they are coming up to help me!" I can't help but smile. I ask her if she needs anything else or if she doesn't mind if I go. "Of course not, darling! You have to go to shows, I presume. I loved your work. Do you come to London? You should write me an email and stay in touch. I don't have a business card but it's very easy to remember. iblow@condenast". I looked at her and I laughed. I didn't mean to but it just came out. She looks at me puzzled for half a second and then bursts out laughing as well. "Oh, I know, darling!"

The guy from the hotel was knocking at the door and I take that as my cue to leave. Before I go, she gives me a 20 € tip and wishes me all the best. Months later I find myself in a movie theater watching "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" and I see Miss Blow on the big screen. I smile and I remember those 30 minutes we spent together. You still put a smile on my face, Isabella Blow. May you rest in peace!

Not so much.

2008-10-07T21:57:00.012+02:00

3 October. Somewhere on the ghetto of Paris.

Alexander McQueen was always the highlight of Paris Fashion Week for me. The last one I had done was very special as it was a tribute to Isabella Blow, a lady (in all senses of the word) that I was lucky enough to have met. In a way, it was also my chance to say goodbye.

This season I was again on the team and was very excited. Is the make up gonna be fabulous and outter wordly? Is the hair gonna be big and fabulous? Are the clothes be amazing? Is the mise en scène gonna be incredible?
Well... not so much!

The collection was inspired by the planet. The origins of life on Earth, the minerals, the scales of fishes and lizards, the rocks, the lava, the stones, the diamonds. Everything until the evolution of mankind. The runway had a huge sphere on top on which was projected the planet Earth, the Sun and finally, a human eye. On both sides of the runway we had huge stuffed animals, from peacocks, to giraffes and polar bears.

The make up was nothing but a block of eyebrows. Matte foundation and the tiniest bit of blush and that was it. No ghostly pale faces, no cleopatra eyes, no alien like textures, no nothing.
The hair was flat on the head, with a twisted braid on the back, pinned to the head and with a net over the face where meshes of hair were styled to look like swirls across the face. Ok, but the clothes are gorgeous, right?

Same signature silluette, same hips, same boobs but this time covered in fabulous stones. The shine was like no other i had ever seen and they were chunks of stones. The texture was amazing but, for some reason, it was not impressive. It was not McQueen. The shoes was where I could see the old McQueen. On some of them, the heel was made out of clear cristal. It looked like you were piercing the floor with a spear of ice. The others, in flesh tone or in black, were molded into human feet so it looked like you were barefoot but with heels. It was wierd, it was interesting, it was McQueen! Ok, but the show will be amazing, right?

Pure darkness and then, with the sound of insects chirping, the light started apearing in the background, illuminating the runway. Then the models started to arrive, one by one, walking the catwalk. Back and forth. No witches pentagram, no chess game, no wolves...

Great collection non the less but, did McQueen burn the house tonight? Well... not so much.

Oh, my fucking God!!!

2008-10-04T06:36:00.011+02:00

2 October. Some tent between the Seine and the Eiffel Tower.

Shitty weather this morning. Grey, cold, rainy. Great way to start the day. We were doing Giambattista Valli with Ellis Faas keying the make up so, at least, it wouldn't be dreadful. She was cheerful and, after the third coffee, so was I. I set up next to this cute hairdresser named Brian and we chatted for a while. He thought I was from New York (how about that!!). As I was talking to him, I started thinking how come there are so many sexy hairdressers in the shows? Just on this alone there was Brian, there was this other baby faced one that i was just in love with and there was this tall french guy with the sweetest eyes and the most sinful lips that asked me to charge his Ipod on my speekers, while gently stroking my back. After he whispered "Thank you" on my ear, I didn't give a shit if he was french! I decided to keep my eyes open and elect the sexiest hairdresser Spring/Summer 09. Results to come soon.

We started the make up demo and I was amazed how come such a straight forward make up could have such a beautiful result. Nice full coverage matte foundation, a mustard poop liquid eyeshadow and a rosie cream blush on cheeks, lips and inner corner of the eyes made the most beautiful look ever! The inspiration was an old photo of a fresco. The girls needed to look prim, innocent, fresh and extremelly chic and this one was just the right make up for it. The perfect look of a subdued sophistication.

All the girls were late so I went to smoke some cigarrettes and see the clothes. Oh, my fucking God! The clothes are absolutelly stunning! Such precision, such detail. Everything is sculpted to create this amazing shape on a womans body. The fabrics are the most exquisit things ever. At one point I was looking at one dress that looked torned and old and burned, like an old piece of parchment and when I looked closer it was this amazing print. It was feminine, it was beautiful... it made me want to have a vagina!

The girls were still late and there was 20 minutes for the show to start. We still had to do a rehearsal and we are half way through. The backstage area is now swarming with photographers and video crews and we have to do make up in hair which means I have to go down on my knees again (and all for the wrong reasons!). Finally make up is all finished and we only need to do last minute touch ups at line up so I decide to have a smoke outside. Here I was, minding my own business when this security guy came to push us away cause someone wanted to pass. Hey, I know I am strongly build (yes, that's the term!!) but let's not get overboard! There is enough room for everyone. So out of this car comes this girl that everybody is staring at and smiling. And me, thick as a board, go "Who's she?!". A girl from production looks at me in awe and answers with boredom "Natalie Portman!". She was french and I wanted to slap her! How the fuck should I know who she is? The only movie I can remember with her was "Closer" and she looked like a cunt in it!

Anyway, show time. We have to do legs, arms and hands, powder every face for the 10th time and touch up on the lips. I was in heaven surrounded with all that gorgeous clothes and we could feel the tension in the air. Everyone knew this show was going to be a huge success and everybody wanted to make it work even better. Even the photographers were behaving, being out of the way of the models and not stumbling into everyone. The last dresses were something out of a fairy tale meaning that any fairy would kill to be able to have one of those. Just one dress alone, with corset and train, weighed around 10kg. It was an absolute wet dream and, like we predicted, the show was a hit!!!!

Oh, my fucking God!

Costume National

2008-10-03T11:58:00.007+02:00

1 October. Carrousel du Louvre

Nice and early in the day, we head off to one of the "bathrooms" in the Carrousel. It's always funny go through all the tourists that stare at us with all our suitcases, with question marks on their faces. I set up in one of the corners to find out that i won't be needing my ITouch for music since the hairdressers are in charge of that. Amy Winehouse, New Order, Kate Bush... fucking hell, the man is the best!

The models were all coming from other shows so we had to wait and prepare ourselves for the final rush. Thank God for the great catering (carpacio, tiramisu, panna cota) and a very nice security guy that let us smoke in the fire escape stairs. To one of my visits to have a smoke, I peaked at the Ungaro show happening next door. Clothes were very spring chic but the music... oh, the music. A remix of the new Grace Jones song "This is Life". The diva is coming back and with a vengeance!!! For some reason, everything during this week is ending up in Grace Jones. Should be a sign of some sorts.

The make up was pretty straight forward but working to a tee for the collection. A mix of sober coordinates with a rock and roll twist. Nothing very risky but very wearable.

A nice grey shadow on the eyes nicely placed to mimic a natural shadow, to give it the rock and roll, smokey eye twist but not going over board. Sheer matted skin and paled out lips and voilá!

Nothing memorable but still good! The best of it all was my time with one of the models. I just love her! She's fun and intelligent and we had a nice "up the bum" chat. Just sharing tips and tricks on taking it up the arse. We do get along!!

Manish, or How I Started The Day Shitting My Pants!

2008-10-03T00:37:00.007+02:00

30 September. Manish Arora.

I wasn't supposed to be on this show but I welcomed the change. I was having the chance to work with Kabuki again. For those of you who don't know him, Kabuki is, apart from a better phrasing, a fucking genius! He was one of the original club kids of NY, he done modeling for Tierry Mugler, he started his make up job in Sex and the City and now he is one of the most respected make up artists for his vision, creativity and talent. Besides all of this, he is the sweetest person ever and great to work with!

The show was at the Cirque D'Hiver, where I had done McQueen a couple of years ago. When he started the demo, I was like "I'm going home. I'm done!". 19 girls to do and all of them with a different look. The only common thing was the foundation and the lip. Just the foundation alone was making me shiver. If you ever tried to paint a face white, you know that what you see is not what you get. When you take a picture of it, you normally see that there are blotches of coverage that are not seen when you look at it with just your eyes. This means that you have to work in layers and be very precise on what you are doing. Second of all, every girl had a different thing that had to be glued to the face, which went from eye masks to velvet templates that were mixed with eyeshadow blends to create a Daliesque illusion of perspective and depth. None of us knew exactly what we were doing and each girl that came along was a Russian roulette of make up. For every girl we needed a particular brief and, obviously, this took time. All of this with the notion that, once you begin this make up, you cannot go wrong or you have to take it all off and start again. Stress, anyone?!

The clothes were pure Manish! An OTT mash of colours, patterns and textures that, unbelievably... works! I guess you can say that the theme was circus. I mean, I did see a carousel skirt. Yes, a skirt that was a real carousel that rotated and all! It was fun, it was colourful and a joy to do.

Four hours later, the show was over, everybody was happy and I was feeling quite proud of my make up abilities. Me loves me a bit of a challenge!

Kabuki is hitting Europe later this year and the beginning of 09 for some masterclasses with MAC. Catch him if you can because he is worth it!!

Have a look

http://www.kabukimagic.com

Vaseline, anyone?!

2008-10-02T23:35:00.011+02:00

29 September. École des Beaux Arts.

One of the most beautiful schools I've ever seen. And an inspiration alone for the countless shows I've done there. I still remember a Dries Van Notten show, all in black, with the girls wearing black magnolias in their hair.

Vivienne Westwood is presenting her Gold Label tonight. After her show last season, totally designed by children, I was quite curious about what was going on for Spring Summer. We were introduced to this rock and roll lady. I wouldn't be surprised if Viv herself was the inspiration for this one. Everything was quite tailored to look effortless, baggy and against the system. We had "cocktales by the pool" hats, purple capes and vinyl overalls. All in gorgeous shoes and boots!

The make up was designed by Pep Gay, a Spanish make up artist, that was inspired by the thirties. Think of a rococo Man Ray... in black. The lips were originally very graphic, with very sharp and straight lines but it kept changing into a more rounded, more Victorian lip. The eyes were lined from within, top and bottom, with a black pencil. No foundation on the face. And when i say nothing, is nothing!

Panic time! The show is suppose to begin and we still have girls to do. Crazy, crazy, girls being stolen for rehearsal with no hair or make up. Here i am, on my knees, doing a girl at hair. Can you imagine doing that lip while her head is being pulled by a hairdresser? And for what? For a 1h30m delay!!!! For fuck sake, why do people have to stress when the previous show hasn't even started?! We just stood there for over an hour doing nothing but smoking cigarettes and eating grapes!

In one of my trips outside to have a fag (we can't smoke anywhere in France now. Fascists!), I spot this tanned, bearded, dead cute photographer looking straight at me. As I pass him, I smile and he goes, in portuguese, "Don't I know you?". In my head I go "Wish you would!!". We started chatting politely, him "Blablabla", me "U-Uh", him "Blablabla", me "Right", him "Oh, I will start going to Madrid regularly", me "YES!", him "My boyfriend lives there", me "Fuck!". We exchanged numbers in the end so, any updates will be informed!

Finally the show is about to start and, of course, it has to be chaos for something to be done so, at last minute, we have to add vaseline on every inch of skin, face and all. Here we are, all stupid at this time (the option would be to shoot ourselves for the time we were waiting), lubing all the models, the girls joining in and putting vaseline on our face... I swear to God, by the end of the show, I could have fisted someone with no problem. I'm sure Viv would have a laugh!

Belgian with a tan

2008-09-30T02:27:00.006+02:00

28 September. First official day of fashion week. Yesterday Gareth Pugh was presenting his first show in Paris and I was kicking myself for not being in it. Bloody creative, the guy is. Just look at the dresses he does for Roisin Murphy. Brilliant!! But, I cannot complain! I have a light week but filled with interesting shows.

Had Rick Owens in the afternoon and it was the best introduction to the week mayhem! What can I say about the Nordic aesthetics? Minimal, nice cuts, no excess, clever. This season we saw nuns stepping out of rural painting. Think "Girl with the pearl earring" in light grey. The clothes were absolutely stunning, with the precise cut that we are used to from the designer and the fabrics were light but sharp, creating an interesting silhouette that reinvented body shapes.

The make up, like the clothes, was minimal. Paled faces, toned down brows and lashes. But this time the foundation was thinned down on the skin, creating the perfect texture but still letting the natural skin peer through, creating a haunting livelihood to an otherwise ghostly demeanour. The lips also helped to bring live to the look since they were not paled out but kept in their natural pink tones with just a hint of lip balm for some moisture.

Beautiful show, nice and peaceful with no stresses. Perfect to get our motors warmed up!

Paris, here I come!

2008-09-29T03:19:00.006+02:00

New season, new dresses, new cuts. If it's the same for fashion, why not for me?

Checking in at the airport and getting upgraded to business class was a treat. But then sharing plane with Hollywood star Penelope Cruz's sister (it's close enough, God damn it!!) I thought it was a sign from the Universe. I'm going to Paris, I'm travelling in style, I'm rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous (shut it!!)... might this be it?!

Paris was never my favorite city, I'm a London guy. It would be fantastic without the french. But I have to admit that I saw more gorgeous men in half an hour then i had seen in a week in Madrid. A friend of mine asked why do they all have dogs, to which another replied, without a shadow of a doubt "Because they're the only ones who can stand them!" I do have to agree.

I did have my French lover. He flew over for a weekend at mines. Gorgeous body but a fucking complicated asshole! Too much trouble for a shag! But a shag nonetheless so my reply to everything, at the end, was "Shut up and bend over." In French... because i can!

First time I came here (3000 year ago!) i stayed in a nice apartment just by the Seine. We would wave at the bateaux mouche strolling by as we were having parties in each other rooms, drinking champagne and inviting models over. It was also the beginning of my international career of mystery. On my last day of fashion week, I was having a walk and doing some shopping when I saw this cute guy on the street. We looked at each other and continued our business. I did my shops, passed some time and when I was coming back, about two hours later, someone tapped on my shoulder. The gorgeous guy from two hours ago was talking to me in this timid french. I understood everything he said but, not knowing what to do and feeling quite nervous, I said to him, with my best british accent "I'm sorry but i don't speak french" (a little louder and opening my mouth a lot so I'd make sure that i looked like a complete twat!). He just replied "Oh, it's alright then, mate. I'm English!". Gorgeous and with a fucking cockney accent. I got hard right there!

He wanted to have coffee with me, get to know me a bit better because he liked what he saw. "But I am a lady!", I thought. And i was back then. Not international at all and no way mysterious! I told him that i had other things to do but if he would give me his phone number i would give him a call. I was still not believing what just happened while looking at the Seine from my room and specially not believing how thick I had been! Here I am in Paris, a gorgeous man just stops me on the street because he thinks I'm dead cute and I tell him to take a walk?! Now that is just spitting on God's face! Let's just say that I had an incredible breakfast with Oliver the next morning... in bed!

Here I am again doing the shows in Paris, with an open future in front of me. New season, new dresses, new cuts. If it's the same for fashion, why not for me? Now where the fuck can I find Oliver again?

Enough

2008-09-29T03:10:00.002+02:00

I do believe! I still do!

2008-09-20T14:18:00.007+02:00

Those of you that know me know that Attitude is one of my favourite magazines. I was reading the last issue when I came across a couple of interviews to young British men. Here are a couple of clips that made me smile:

How important are romantic gestures?

“It’s part of what relationships are about. It’s good to know Alex is doing stuff for me without my asking for it. There’s no point in being with someone if you have to tell them how to treat you.”

Steve, 24, Guildford

“I think the smallest gesture can be the best. (…) If he wants to go to an exhibition, I’ll surprise him with tickets, or if he meets me after work, perhaps he’ll have a little picnic set up in St James’ Park. I don’t think it matters how small the gesture is, it’s the thought that’s gone into it that appeals to me.”

David, 21, Upminster

Is commitment negotiable?

“If you’re in a relationship, you’re committed. There’s no way you should be meeting other people, or kissing someone else. I mean, if something were to happen, you’d work around it. That’s more of a mistake, not something that’s allowed.”

David, 21, Upminster

What’s your opinion of open relationships?

“I’m so against that. It’s not a relationship, it’s an agreement. It’s like having a flat mate you can sleep with if you don’t find someone else that night. Usually one person wants it and the other goes along with it, but they’re dying inside.”

Alex, 18, Guildford

What does love mean to you?

“It means unity, trust, you have that connection where they can make you smile just through texting you. When you see them, your heart races, and you hate not being with them… I think that’s it.”

David, 21, Upminster

“I guess it means to commit to someone, and to compromise on things to make your relationship work, and to make them laugh – you’ve got to make someone laugh if you love them.”

Adrian, 23, Liverpool

It’s nice to know they’re still out there. And they’re cute too!!!
Now, can someone like this move to Madrid, please?!

For him

2008-09-18T22:37:00.009+02:00

2008-09-18T22:37:00.008+02:00

He moved out

4 steps for mending a broken heart

2008-09-05T19:56:00.008+02:00

1-

2-

3-

4-

Either way, I'm fucked!

Disenchanted angry young man

2008-09-05T17:08:00.004+02:00

"Dear Dad

Things didn't turn out quite like I wanted them to.

Sometimes i feel like I'm gonna explode."

Turkish delight

2008-07-15T16:58:00.005+02:00

I had a Turkish friend come by this past weekend. A really nice guy, hot as a motherfucker!, we got the chance to have a couple of beers together and hit some bars in old Chueca town. In between beers and words, our eyes wondered around the men that were in the places and, of course, the topic of the conversation became sex!

He was telling me all about his boyfriend and I was telling him all about mine but then we got into the pre-bf raunchy stories! How he did a taxi driver (no charge!), how I did a guy in a park, how we both had profiles on the internet and how he didn’t understand why top guys responded to his profile if he himself was a top. I was like “Waaaait! Rewind.”

Why wouldn’t a top hit a top? I remember some wild experiences with top guys. You don’t poke it but you can stroke it! And lick it. And suck it. And… (oh, well!) - when he told me that he didn’t suck dick. In his entire gay life, he only sucked two poor penises! Once each! The words just bursted out of my mouth “Aren’t you a lousy boyfriend!!” I mean, true – when you have sex with someone you expect the old in out but give me some starters please!!! You have an entire feast there, might as well enjoy the whole menu. A nibble here, a nibble there, a… (getting carried away again).

Gay or bi, man or woman (and even lesbians, poor things!) should have some cock in their menu! It’s just plain good! Am I right, ladies? Am I right, ladies (for the real ones, this time)?

It pains me to do it (cause he’s really hot!) but I hereby HAVE to pronounce him, officially… straight!

Introducing...

2008-07-15T00:28:00.013+02:00

"Mrmr says:
top or bottom?
P.A. says:
Top. And hello to you to!!
Mrmr says:
sorry. hi.
Mrmr says:
i’m bottom. where r u?
P.A. says:
Madrid.
Mrmr says:
do u have other pics?
P.A. says:
No
Mrmr says:
i like what i see!!! how old r u?
P.A. says:
31
Mrmr says:
hmmmmm…. hot spanish bear!!! other stats?
P.A. says:
First of all, I’m not Spanish
Mrmr says:
u said u live in Madrid
P.A. says:
1,80m, 100k, shaved head, beard, brown eyes, hairy, top
P.A. says:
I live in Madrid but I’m Portuguese. Came here to live 4 years ago.
Mrmr says:
y?
P.A. says:
For work
Mrmr says:
what do u do?
P.A. says:
I’m a make up artist
Mrmr says:
cool
Mrmr says:
i’m going to madrid next week. wanna fuck?
P.A. says:
Sure!
P.A. says:
With my bf!!!
Mrmr says:
u have a boyfriend?
P.A. says:
Yeap! Guess you forgot to ask that one!
Mrmr says:
lol
Mrmr says:
can’t u get away for a quick shag?
P.A. says:
I live with him
P.A. says:
And either you’re joe d’alessandro or I stick to my man
Mrmr says:
who?
P.A. says:
Nevermind…
Mrmr says:
u wanna fuck or not?
P.A. says:
I have a boyfriend!!!!!!
Mrmr says:
so?!
P.A. says:
Fucking hell!!! It means no!!!!
Mrmr says:
fuck you!"

Some people just don't ask the right questions!!