I Probably Got To Talk To Somebody, But All The Guys Know Better And The Girls Better Not Find Out LOL

5'8" shvd/blu hwp clean bttm

Yeah, I'm weird-lookin, but you can always just put me face against the wall or bury my head in the pillow or floor...

UPDATE: AIM (while it lasts): vglbttm95979

Me And My Guy

MARRY ME, REDACTED

++++++++

...And help the Way family fix their housing situation, everybody else!

Local Irises (And Dare I Call It? One Example of ハナショブ)

To the ancient Greeks, Iris was a divine messenger, and a rainbow made apparent her passage through the heavens...

All around Stonyford right now, from the General Store to our humble home, we've got a riot! (Oh, and PSA: please don't cut other people's irises, m'kay? Not the way to win friends and influence people -- I know they're pretty, but come on now...) :-)

(All photography William Way originals, done on -- I shit you not -- a Kindle Fire... Free to the public for pretty uses, or other punk shit... Much love!)

********

エッチな外人とやりたいぞ!

"ね,あんた,何を見てるの?もう一回お向むかいくんって裸かな?"

********

Same Logistics as 1/1/2017

Recalling the "187" calls of the '80s, the best of which went the right way (girls screaming in fear and delight as they found themselves broken in by heroes, inexplicably...), we can help set things to rights...

Again, front (West) door unlocked. First door to the left down the hallway. Careful with noise -- opening the front door is screechy. My bedroom light will be on, though. The rest is up to visitors. If law enforcement, please rest assured this is no "gotcha." I'm straight dope, WYSIWYG all the way.

(Unlike last time, I will have glass to help. No liquor, weed, or viagra, though...) God bless, and good luck...)

(415-203-6957)

UPDATE:  Door unlocked, hole prepped. All you need is backbone and full nuts.

UPDATE II: To sweeten the pot, here's the rear:

UPDATE III 3:06AM: Still hankerin' after a visit from someone. Think I'll lay down, but the door's still unlocked.

What? I've Been Known To Get On A Soap Box When My Butt Is Hungry...

Porn models do not deserve to be treated as though they are inadequate adult children, and in the real, messy world we all have to survive, they have enough people and forces pushing them around -- making decisions for them, and undermining their liberties. The more empowerment and encouragement in their autonomy they can get from the rest of us, the better -- and I'm not even a pornography viewer, m'kay?

This Shit Is Bananas

It's Boo-KAY!

Overheard During Gay Group at Passages in Malibu

"Okay girl?  I mean, I had no choice but to stop partying when every fucking time I was on one, the hills had eyes, and those eyes were wearing liquid eyeliner.  And on top of that, they were gloating because I couldn't get any..."

BREAKING (My Political Hymen)

LEWINSKY REFUSES TO ENDORSE CLINTON

Monica Lewinsky released the following statement on Hillary Clinton's run for President:

"I will not vote for Hillary Clinton.  The last Clinton Presidency left a bad taste in my mouth.  As we get closer to November of this election year, citizens must remember that they cannot trust Hillary Clinton on jobs.  The last time she had a meaningful job, she outsourced it to me, and I blew it."

Happy Pride, Everybody!

Just remember to take your Truvada or wear a condom, or both.  And no, bitch, that's not Wayland and Madame you hear coming down from the roof of Beck's Motor Lodge to your room for six hours straight -- it's all in your head, so chill!

She'll Always Be Wearing A Raspberry Beret...

"Only way to get to where you've never been is to party like you ain't gonna party again." - Prince

Six Flags Over Tragic Mountain

Admittance to my paracosm is free to the general public, but you must be at least *this* high to ride.

Aws Mohammed Younis Al-Jayab

That boy is so fine, he can blow me up with his babies.

(What?  I love America.  It's just that I'm ruled by courage, not by fear...)

A Reflection On What May Still Be Going On

God, that program sucked.  It really fucked up a lot of good crazy people (and not a few normal, employed, and well-adjusted people) in the Tenderloin.  I haven't been in it for over a year now, but it's still fresh in my memory.  We were all fighting for ourselves, but of course, we're human -- we were also doing our best to fight for each other.  A woman speeding by on her Hoveround in the other direction yelled at them to get off me.  Some nice schizophrenic yelled angrily on my behalf at the people on me.  And I for my part devastated with an untraceable twist of the knife those assholes that so many women on the street cry about and accuse of mind-rape. (Glad, by the way, that I could do my part.)  Really, how could it have happened?  Yet it did.

Personally, I think the worst for me was the temporarily successful assault on mirth itself.  That really killed something in me for a moment there.  But it seemed like most people were pissed off about the attacks on natural sexuality.  "Don't mess with the deed!" some brave ex-convict yelled on Eddy Street, and I was with him.  I mean, hosing down poor people who are coupling?  That's pretty fucking ugly, and somebody needs to pay hard for that.

(An aside:  I know a lot of people thought I was the most put-upon, worst hurt by that shitty situation, but I assure you all that I'm tough, and if anyone can take the hits, I can.  Anyway, I survived -- there a those who didn't.  It was deadly in some cases.)

I've got to say, the anti-sexual components of that evil program had a real-world effect that violated everything good and right in a person.  I remember going to Steamworks in Berkeley, getting messed with, and trying to watch those "Active Duty" videos on the computer.  The porn made me overwhelmingly sad and depressed, and I blame that weird, sociopath-administrated (though I don't blame Frankie -- he wouldn't have done it on his own), wasteful, and poorly thought-out psychic torture.

The pornography is inherently fun.  This dude who goes by "Dink" invites good-looking Marines and soldiers over to drink beer, smoke some meth, and fuck each other on camera (while he does rather unfortunate but ignorable monotone voice-overs and direction.)  Those videos are very popular in the gay world.

But that night, I looked at the fine-ass grunts and watched their dorky, hot antics, and all I could feel was this crippling sense of grief.  Boy, that program is fucked up.

(Sorry if I outed any of you retarded jarheads.  I fucking love you guys, but in recent years you're always pulling that shit where you flirt and don't follow through -- I owe you one lol.)

Mutton Fat Jade

        “She says the only power she has in her life is over food.  My son
doesn’t listen to her, her son is never home,” Mei mockingly told Lin.
        “She seems to have some power over the credit card.  I saw her coming
out of Nordstrom’s with bags of new clothes,”  Lin averred.
        “Aiya, she’s such a liar, that one.”
        “I hope they were muumuus.  She shouldn’t wear tight tops with all
that back fat.”
        “My son probably stopped doing it with her because she looks like a pig.”
        “She’s so full of it.  She’s got an excuse for everything.  It’s
probably her fault your son never visits.”
        “Then again, she might be the reason Jin comes all the time.  She’s
such a horrible mother.”
        “Just feed Jin what you’d cook for your son.  He’s a good boy.
Everybody in the building thinks so.”
        Mei and Lin squatted before their offerings, each item on sale for a
dollar.  Government cheese, chips, plums, potatoes, and gallons of
fruit juice sat arrayed on blankets on the red brick sidewalk at
Market and Jones for passersby to browse.  Some stopped to buy.  Mei
used her money to buy greens in Chinatown.  Lin had a secret cigarette
habit, and kept her grape juice.  They hoped to sell everything before
any police stopped to tell them to pack it up and move along.
        The two had been friends since before coming to America.  In college,
in the late 1950s, they would walk together up Powell Street, trading
glances that rated the boys they passed on their way home.  Now
grandmothers, they were still silent friends.  They seemed to
communicate without words.  The only audible conversations they had
were about Mei’s thoughtless son and self-indulgent daughter-in-law.
Both Mei and Lin agreed the best thing those two had ever done, the
only worthwhile thing, was have a son, Jin, who visited his
grandmother as often as he could.

The visits began the year Jin turned 14.  He would bring a forged note
with a copy of his dad’s driver’s license – anything would do as long
as it had a picture.  It got him into the building, past the
persnickety front desk.  He was too young to have his own ID or
driver’s license, but if he could prove he was Mei’s grandson, he
could get in.
        He had the best time of his life.  His friends in school were pretty
well-behaved kids – they got good grades, and never got into trouble.
They all spent a lot of time with their families.  But Jin kept quiet
to them, as he did to Mei, about his life at home in that dark, lazily
decorated Duboce Triangle condo.  He knew he shouldn’t criticize his
dad and mom to his grandmother, but he was stuck:  his parents were
assholes.
        The hardest part of his visits to Grandmother Mei’s little shoebox of
a single-room occupancy studio (next to leaving when their time
together was up) was trying to find a way to explain why he visited so
often.  His Chinese was halting, and she praised him just for making
the effort.  Sometimes, she would hold up little things like plates or
her treasured bracelet of almost-white jade, and try to teach him the
words for these.
        He would let her distract him then, over steaming bok choy and
dumplings, as she taught him how to say new words.  He forgot about
learning how to make her understand something he suspected she already
knew, and knew better than he did.  In fact, he soon felt a bit of
shame for assuming her to be more innocent than she was – an
assumption many seemed to make of the old Chinese ladies who hustled
around town.  It was an important epiphany, when a boy on his way to
becoming a man realizes his grandmother is no doting, daft old
creature, but a woman, a complete woman who has seen so much more than
he might ever hope to.
        He wanted to tell Grandmother Mei how hard his mom was trying – in
all the wrong ways.  For example, she would insist on doing his
homework for him.  How could his mom not understand that he needed his
pride, pride he could earn only from doing the work himself and
knowing the B on the paper was worth more than his mom’s A?  How could
he tell his father’s mother what a douchebag the hapless guy was?
When Jin was six, he saw a Japanese cartoon he loved, and wanted his
favorite character’s name.  So his dad let him change his own name
then and there, in front of the television, like nothing had any
importance.  And where were the fishing trips?  Camping?
        Jin, though, the more time he spent eating savory dishes at his
grandmother’s Tenderloin hotel, learned how much stronger silence
could be than complaints.  He tried not to hate his father for never
visiting, and put effort instead into loving who was present, and
loving that they were present; that’s what his grandmother’s
demonstrated skill for living taught him.  Why think about dad’s
failures at all when he could play ping-pong with Auntie Lin in the
community room behind the lobby?
        He also felt a swell of pride from finding his first footing as a man
– what dignity with which he carried himself when he knew his
escorting Grandmother Mei was the reason she could brave the
intersection at Taylor and Turk, a rather rough part of the
neighborhood.  She would never go that way alone, but Jin was nearly
5’10” and growing a moustache.  She could rely on him to be her guard.
        She taught Jin so much without words.  Sure, the pidgin Chinese was
fun – and he already spoke better than his father.  Yet Jin also
learned the secret language of shared glances, eye contact from the
side that spoke whole passages.  He quietly treasured his grandmother.
She was a link to roots his parents never took time to respect.
        Jin knew he had to say something, anything so that mom and dad would
get it.  Not a fight, not a criticism, just words that stated how much
he needed Grandmother Mei’s guidance and wisdom, and with those words
hopefully imply that he wasn’t the only one.  So one day, he came home
from school, changed into a shirt and tie his mother had bought for
him at the store as though she had been awkwardly bargaining for
something.  He stood in front of his father, between him and the
television, and said aloud, “I’m going to grandma’s.”  It was the
first time he had announced where he was going, instead of heading
directly there.
        His father stared ahead absent-mindedly, as though through him to the
television on the other side.  “Watch yourself in the TL, Jin.  Don’t
take too much money.”
        Jin stood there for a moment, unsure if his dad had even looked at
him.  He had at least hoped to hear how sharp he looked – something,
anything.  All Jin could say was, “So, bye.”  And he left.

        It was about six months after Jin’s first visit that his father
finally took interest in the worst way.  It was complete happenstance.
Jin was sitting with Mei and Lin after the food bank, when who should
show up but his father, livid.
        “Jesus, Ma, I’m on my way to lunch break when somebody said, ‘Hey
David, is that your mom selling shit on the street?’”
        “But I’m your mommy, yes?  Why are you yelling?”
        “What the hell?  Do you know how embarrassing this is?  They were
laughing at you, the guys from work.”
        “Don’t you love your mommy?  Don’t yell.”
        Jin stood up.  He knew he didn’t want to disappoint his grandmother –
how could he upbraid his dad?
        “Dad, can I say something?”  At 14, his eyes were nearly level with
his father’s.  “I don’t listen to what people think of my grandmother.
They can laugh.  It’s just harmless laughter.  It’s innocent, right?”
        “Jin, you’re not old enough to understand.”
        “No fight.”  Mei’s voice was steely from her squat beneath them.
        “Dad, it was my idea.  She hates this food, and I thought she could
sell it for vegetables from the store she likes.”
        “Why didn’t she just ask for some goddamn money?”
        “She didn’t know better, Dad.  I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
        His dad took a step back.  “She knows better,” he muttered, and
walked back to where his coworkers were waiting.

I Think I Speak For Everyone

When I say this whole Bill Cosby debacle has been a real big blow.

Perfumery

"Hart":  lavender, horse dung, cedar, camphor, tiaré, ambergris

"Chéri":  vetiver, musk, sweet alyssum, hinoki, clover

"Hippolyta":  mowed grass, bubblegum, ginger, ylang ylang, vanilla

"Califia":  orange zest, pine resin, peat moss, ferns, carnation

"Hugs":  pure, redwood mulch, wild broom, freesia, sandalwood

"Déjà Vu":  hickory, wheatgrass, cardamom, 'new clothes smell,' verbena

Titles for Term Papers

- Civilized Cavemen:  The Gentle and Peacable Hunter Gatherer
- Consciously Directed Social Partitioning
- Metabeings:  Our Institutions and Subcultures and Their Life Cycles
- Externalizers Versus Internalizers
- Psychopaths, Sociopaths and Empaths:  The Game of Inverse Narcissism
- Woman King:  How Empresses Reign
- Celebrating Laziness: Reasons for Being a Lump on a Log
- Precipitous Action in Governance
- The Sexual Predicate of Tyranny
- The Sadist as Twisted Empath:  Arousing Pain

Feel free to steal and riff.

Belief System

I believe that if a thing is beautiful and valuable, anyone who wants it should be able to have it.  I believe the default, basic amount of pain that automatically comes with being human is enough to earn what's worth having.  I believe in the inherent good of humanity.  I believe it is easier to be good than to be bad.  I believe in continuing to take people at face value and giving them the benefit of the doubt, no matter how many times or how awfully I've been screwed over.  I believe I should take only what's offered, and give when asked.  I believe I should criticize and celebrate what I am, and pride myself in what I've done.  I believe I owe it to my fellow humans to live as well and for as long as possible.  I believe the four ingredients I need for a happy life are good food, good music, sex, and family.  I believe kindness is not an obligation; it is an inclination.  I believe in original virtue, not just original sin.  I believe in science and magic.  I believe compassion is a mark of true genius, and gentleness, an indicator of true strength.  I believe all living beings are interconnected.  I believe we are our own worst enemies.  I believe in falling in love.