ERNESTO PART I

It was a nasty divorce. Ernesto has found himself trapped in a loveless marriage, with two children he adored, a faithless wife, and the growing realization that he could no longer deny his desire toward men.
He was surprised when Gloria asked for the divorce, but grateful. He was surprised because he didn’t know of her infidelity, and he had fought to remain true to their vows, mostly successfully. Grateful, because they had grown apart. Ernesto agreed to all of Glorias terms, asking only that he have free access to their children, and she agreed.
Because of the stress he was under, Ernesto lost his job and could no longer afford his apartment. He had become homeless; his new address was a post office box. He had no birth family to help him. His last surviving relative, a sister, had died just weeks before.
He crashed with friends, hoping to find work and a new place of his own.
It was all manageable, though. He still had his children.
One day he went by the children’s school, just to say Hi, like he had done several times before with no problem. He barely avoided arrest, fleeing just before the police arrived.
It seems that, without warning Ernesto, Gloria had instructed the school authorities to call the police if Ernesto came onto the school grounds.
It was the last straw for ‘Nesto.
Only one thought filled his mind. Tucson had become a place of bitterness, pain and betrayal. He was getting the hell out of town, as fast as he could.
But before he could do that, he needed to talk to somebody, anybody. He just had to unburden himself of the emotional burden he was bearing.
That’s when Ernesto e mailed me.
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Latino Men…

Be loved,

DEL

RESULTS FOR PLATONIC OR NOT?

It’s results time, and the voice of the people has been heard! If you remember the game is to decide which couples have taken their feelings to bed, and which ones are still thinking about it. There are no right or wrong answers, we just want to know what you think. Let’s see what everybody said.

#1-Steamy Guys: #1-I’ve had dreams of guys leaning over my shoulder and breathing on my neck like that. Honestly, I can’t imagine these guys don’t have something in the oven. But, the people have spoken.
60% for
40% against

#2-Serenity Now Guys: Most of you felt the same about these two fellows.
60% for
40% against.

#3-Style Guys: One reader gave some good advice: Notice where the knobs are pointing. Both these boys have plainly noticeable knobs. It’s kind of sweet, really. These boys may not have done the deed, but I’m positive that all it would take is one really cold night in a pup tent to get them over the hump, so to speak.
70% for
30% against

#4-Intense Guys: These two…They’ve gone someplace really special. I really believe they’ve got what most of us dream about, because these men look like they’ve identified with each other body and soul.
90% for
10% against

#5-Bathing Boys: One thing I noticed that struck me as very poignant was the injured leg of the fellow on the left. At some point his leg was horribly mangled. His friend also looks a little dinged up.
Perhaps some of their intimacy is born of pain. They’re both very protective of each other, which I find very touching.
70% for
30% against

#6-Innocent Guys: I don’t know why, but this couple calls forth really strong feelings from me, almost as though I want to keep them from an impending tragedy. Whether they’ve consummated their friendship or not, there’s an innocence to the two that can’t be denied.
55% for
45% against

#7-Hunting Partners: This one is a little more unusual. One reader thought the character on the left might be a girl, and another reader thought we might have a gay on the left and a Bi/curious on the right.
Personally, I think Bi/curious means that he just hasn’t come out yet, but it adds an interesting nuance to the discussion. I wondered if the one on the left might not be a girl, too. I decided not for several reasons, the first being that the hands and collarbone look more masculine. The second is that hardly any woman in this era would allow herself to be photographed draped around a man. Male/female photographs hardly ever show man and women touching, even with married couples. But it’s still an open question. Personally, I think the only thing they’re hunting for is a quiet spot in the woods, where they won’t be disturbed for a while, because they definitely have some bidness to attend to.
75% for
25% against.

#8-Friendly Farm Boys: These two are really sweet. One reader thought they might be brothers, which is a possibility. The older boy on the right looks out for his younger buddy. I think one of the main things that I love about all of these is the protection and care these men and boys show for each other. There’s an understated tenderness in almost all of these shots that’s very rare.
60% for
40% against

#9-Touchy Feely Boys: These guys have got it going on, no doubt about it. They’re riding the white horse every chance they get. Even though it may be slightly in the background, along with the physical ease of relating, these two guys obviously take a deep satisfaction and pleasure in being with each other. More than with most of our couples, there’s a sense that these two have seen a lot of life together, and they’re in it for the long haul.
90% for
10% against

I wish I had the definite history for each of these couples, but I don’t. One reader pointed out that all we can do is look at them closely for the stories they can tell us. I think that’s what I love to do the most, is to try to see into their lives as much as possible, to see if maybe a little of their light will reflect into my own.
Thanks for playing.

Be loved,

DEL

FRIENDS AND LOVERS

It’s time for a reprise of everyone’s favorite game, Platonic Or Not.
The purpose of the game is to decide who’s just thinking about it, and who’s actually set sail on the sea of love. You can vote as many times as you want, for whoever you want. We’ll tally things up in a day or so, and discuss it together.

#1-Steamy Guys: I think these two guys run the steam engines, because they’re generating a Lot of heat.

#2-Serenity Now Guys: The fellow on the left is trying so hard to look all butch, and the little blond guy beside him is so happy his eyes are glazing over.

#3-Style Guys: I love the “Army boots with underwear” look.

#4-Intense Guys: There’s just a lot going on here. If I look too long at this, I start getting dizzy.

#5-Bathing Boys: It’s one message from the neck up, but below the neck they’re all tangled up in each other.

#6-Innocent Guys: Is it possible for such innocent joy to last?

#7-Hunting Partners: Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I know what they’re hunting, too.

#8-Friendly Farmboys: At least one of the two looks really happy to be here.

#9-Touchy Feely Boys: Note the position of the hands.

Of course, all of this is just a fun way of reminding ourselves that everyday people are beautiful in love. Be sure to comment and tell us what you think.

Be loved,

DEL

KEEPING CHRIST IN CHRISTMAS

The nut cases seem to have taken over in Colorado.
Lisa Jensen, who lives in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, put up a pretty wreath on the side of her home. It was your standard Christmas wreath, but it had a peace sign woven into the design.

It looks pretty sinister, doesn’t it? Evidently the Loma Linda Homeowners Association thinks so. Lisa has been ordered to take down the wreath, or pay $25 for every day it remains up. The President of the Association, Bob Kearns, says that he had 3 or 4 complaints. Some thought it was satanic, and some thought she was protesting the war against Iraq. And evidently, some think it’s satanic to protest the war against Iraq.

Now it gets good. There’s an architectural control committee, made up of the five members of the Association who can actually read, that are supposed to decide on all matters like this. The problem was presented to them, and they decided that the wreath was neither satanic or political, and ruled that it could stay up.

Kearns fired them.

On the link, there’s an inset where you can vote on whether Lisa should get to keep her wreath up. What is appalling is that fully ten per cent of the voters side with the Association.

This concerns me.

Be loved,

DEL
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EVERYBODY NEEDS AN AGENT

When I was in college studying music, my career plan was to become The Next Legend of The Concert Hall. I had studied the competition, and I knew that Horowitz and Rubenstein, my main competitors, couldn’t live forever. When they died, the management agencies would be looking for fresh meat, errr, I mean talent, and I would be ready and waiting.
I might actually have been about half as good as I thought at the time.
During the summer of my junior year, I took a week off to attend a music festival in a neighboring city. It promised to be a pretty big deal, with a couple of important critics attending, and all the usual vampires and Klingons.
James Peters, a man with a horribly appropriate name, was a well known pianist in those days. He had managed to get a wealthy widow to turn loose of a huge chunk of change by comforting her in her old age.
He used his ill gotten gain to buy a ghost town in east Texas and start up what he called an ongoing music festival out in the middle of nowhere. It was an ongoing festival, all right. They even managed to make some music occasionally, when they could pull themselves off each other.

Well, this year Maestro Peters brought the festival to Louisiana, looking for fresh talent and money, all of which was flocking to him.
The first night of the festival, to kick things off, James presented a solo piano program. They had rented a historic cathedral for the occasion, and it was all really beautiful. The sky blue ceiling of the cathedral matched perfectly the blue hair of the matrons in fur coats who had come out to watch the boys play.
As I sat down, George Kramer, the head of the local Community Concerts Association, sat down beside me.
I didn’t know him that well(yet), but of course I didn’t mind.
He didn’t waste much time. Poor man, he kept losing track of his hands, which would sort of wander over of their own accord to my crotch and start doing creative things there. At one point I called it to his attention, and he pulled his hand back in, for a minute or two. To this day, there’s a certain Grieg Nocturne that I can’t hear without recalling Georges wandering hand.
He was pretty good though, if I do say so.
All the really heavy schmoozing, of course, was set to take place after the concert, where we would all compete for the attention of the visiting bigwigs. Somehow or other I wound up riding with George to the reception.
Alone in the car together, he made his big move.
He was pretty sure he could arrange an audition and maybe even a scholarship to the Roundtree Festival. If I’d like to drive there with him, he would set it up with James, with whom he was a close friend. Of course, since it was a longish drive, it would require at least one overnight stay at a motel, two if we drove slowly enough.
At this point his hand was in my lap again, while I considered the pro’s and con’s of the proposition.
On the one hand, he was wrinkly. On the other hand, he was promising to fulfill every classical musicians dream, to line me up with that big, fat endowment. I could suckle the teat of the great whore and make beautiful music while I was at it.
I got a few decent gigs out of it before our relationship went south, as all relationships based on personal gain do. I never quite made it to “Legend of the Concert Hall” status. George, however, was quite legendary in other respects.
Other “talented” young musicians captured Georges interest, and we went our separate ways.
I have mixed feelings about George. After all, I did get a few decent concert dates out of him.
And he had really soft hands.
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The young Lenny Bernstein, waiting in the green room before an appearance.

Seth Montford, A San Francisco pianist and composer.

Musicmaking in a more intimate setting, perhaps...

Be loved,

DEL

P.S. Some of the names have been changed, to cover my butt. Some of these people are still alive!

THE STRANGE DILEMMA OF THE BUBAL TRIBE

The Somalian Desert, near Kenya

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Scanty nourishment and the permanent lack of microelements and vitamins made people of the Bubal tribe ask their only wealth – cows – for help. The tribers learned that eating the menstrual matter of cows helps them fight such diseases as rachitis, scurvy and leukemia.

The mysterious tribe and their cows roam on the border between Kenya and Somalia. This is the only nation in the world, which practices a very unusual tradition: their children eat cows’ menstrual matter until they get married. The Bubals believe that the licking of cow’s vagina makes would-be warriors strong and courageous. Italian scientists have recently discovered that the menstrual matter of cows is a source of such vitamins as B6, B12, E and D. In addition, it makes up the deficiency of iron, magnesium, phosphorus, calcium and potassium. That is why, scientists think, cows protect the tribe from the most horrible disease of the region – anemia (the lack of haemoglobin). The most interesting thing happens afterwards, though. Hormone changes become extremely conspicuous with all males of the African tribe, after they reach puberty: their testicles grow up to 70-80 centimeters in diameter. The “miracle of nature” happens on account of the untraditional nourishment that tribal individuals practice in their adolescence. The hormone-rich menstrual secretion of the cattle causes irreversible hormone changes with humans. It is noteworthy, that such giant testicles do not exert any negative influence on the reproductive function, although they do cause many other obvious problems. Tourists from all over the world are ready to pay huge money to take a look at giant testicles. Tourists’ money help the tribal nation improve the quality of their meals. It is not ruled out that the next generation of Bubals will have nothing to boast with. Link here.

There’s a reason we were told never to play with animals “that” way. Look what it can do to a fellow.

Be loved,

DEL

FOTO FRIDAY

I think eating turkey released so much dopamine into my system that I’m just not very verbal today. That, plus the fact that I ate refined sugar for the first time in several months, and it’s given me a sugar hangover. I suspect a lot of us are taking it a little bit easy today, those that aren’t shopping, that is. I thought it might be nice to put up some photos for your perusal.
I’ll tell you all about my Thanksgiving tomorrow.
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These portraits are dramatic and beautiful. Enjoy…

Pausing for a thoughtful moment before bed.

Is he dancing or wrestling, or is it both? In the end, is there really a difference?

He could be paying attention in class, or dreaming about an upcoming date.

The contrast of light and shadow is stunning, rendering an otherwise ordinary young man into an enigma.

He’s called a suedehead, because when he rubs his head against you…

Be loved,

DEL

THANKSGIVING

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. I think the main reason is that the rules are so simple. Everybody gets together and eats until they can eat no more, and we are all reminded that we should be thankful. Then we hose off the dirty dishes and plop down onto the sofa to pretend we’re watching football or some other equally noisy sport. That’s if you’re straight. If you’re gay, the sports is probably figure skating, and it’s a backdrop to a lively discussion of who’s screwing who, and who should be thankful they’re getting screwed at all.
I’m thankful that I discovered blogging. I live in a dry and arid land(in more ways than one), and through blogging I’ve developed friendship with many men and women who I might otherwise never have had the opportunity to meet.
I want to name some of those that I’ve met along the way.

Jim the Persian Guy, who encouraged me, and who strives for excellence and integrity in every area of his life.

Tornwordo of Sticky Crows, whose detachment and irony are far outweighed by the gentleness of his heart.

Kalvin of Hello Waffles,who is passionate and cares about people.

Nathan of Nathan Exposed, who is noble, forgiving and kind.

Ur-Spo of Spo Reflections, an open and brave heart, who dances on the tight wire of life.

Scotty of Lone Wolf In The Highlands/Two Inches of Formica, who was wild enough to break free from the pen he was caged in, and wise and loving enough to return.

Joshua at Gay Men Rule, a GreatHeart who I sometimes suspect is one of the 36 hidden saints whose prayers uphold the world.

Mikey at Captain Caveman’s blog,who is shy and bold, sacred and profane, ancient in wisdom, innocent as a child, a remarkable man whom I admire.

JR, of Memoirs of a Gay Chia,who has the courage to be himself, which is all the courage one will ever need.

Em of Amusing Perhaps, who is so gentle even I can receive her wisdom and compassion.

Hans of Castor’s Diary, who hates injustice with a fiery passion that is fueled by love.

Susan of Cruel Virgin, who is blunt, bold and truthful.

There are many others, but I wanted to give these a special “thank you” today. Some I know better than others, but all of these have added to my life, just by their presence in it.
They are kind and generous people, and I’m grateful to life that I’ve gotten to know them.

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Things to be thankful for…..

Something for which the Pilgrims should have been Much more thankful.

These two photos are brought to you courtesy of HAIRYBEARS, a new friend. Let’s make sure he’s not lonely, and go say Hi.

Find a friend, and give thanks.

Be loved,

DEL

SISSY MAN BLUES

I’m still in Blues mode.
Here’s a link to a famous old blues tune, “Sissy Man Blues”.
I know the name isn’t the most uplifting, but to me it’s important because it shows that sexual distinctions were more fluid back then, at least to blues people.
Most people think it was written by Kokomo Arnold in 1935. It was popular, covered several times in just a few years by such artists as Pinewood Tom, Josh White,
George Noble, and Connie McLean’s Rhythm Kings.
Kokomo was a fun guy. He was born in 1901, in Buffalo, New York(a serious blues town). Music was never his first choice. He only became a blues player after the repeal of Prohibition rendered bootlegging unprofitable.
I like his style. He goes real heavy on the slide guitar sounds, like most blues, and he imitates the slide guitar with his voice.
He’s not as spooky sounding as Robert Johnson.
I’ll post the lyrics so you can follow along.
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Kokomo Arnold

I believe, I believe I’ll go back home.
I believe, I believe I’ll go back home.
Only to acknowledge to my good gal, mama, lord, and I have
done you wrong.

Now, I’m gonna ring up China, yeah, man, see if I find my good gal over there.
(Ride it, Kokomo, ride it.)
I’m gonna ring up China, see can I find my good gal over
there.
Says the Good Book tella me that I got a good gal in this world somewhere.

Hollerin’ the church bells is tonin’, yeah, man, on one
Sunday mornin’.
(Boys, that’s old Kokomo.)
Hollerin’ the church bell is tonin’ on one Sunday mornin’.
Hollerin’ some old dirty deacon come and rung that bell,
stole my gal and gone.
(Play it, Kokomo.)

Lord, I woke up this mornin’ with my pork grindin’ business in my hand.

Says I woke up this morning with my pork grindin’ business in my hand.
Lord, if you can’t send me no woman, please send me some sissy man.

I’m gonna sing these blues, mama, yeah, man, and I’m gonna lay ‘em upon your shelf.
Now, I’m gonna sing these blues, mama, and I’m gonna lay ‘em upon your shelf.
Lord, if you wanna hear these blues again, mama, well you sure gonna sing them yourself.
(Now, play It, Mr Koke.)

Now just try to tell me that YOU never woke up with your pork grindin’ bizness in your hand.
To me, blues is the music you sing when you’re walking through the dark valley. You don’t want to stay there too long, ’cause you might get lost. But there’s no shortcut, and there’s no going around. And blues can help you sing your way through it.
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Blues or not? Which of these do you think understands the blues?

I’ll be ready in a second. I just have to pack an extra thong.

Don’t you wonder what’s stirring down there in his soul?

Oh please, won’t you be my camping and fishing guide?

I think my journey ends right here.

Be loved,

DEL

THE BLUES

Bessie Smith, probably the first woman to record the blues

I love the Blues. When I say Blues, I mean the real Blues, the original blues. There’s something so real, so genuine, so “feel it down in your guts” about the blues. A real blues singer can take me there any time.

A FEW TIPS ON WRITING AND SINGING THE BLUES…
1.You’re always safe starting out, ” Woke up this morning…”.
2. Blues are not happy. Either you just got fired, or you got a mean woman(or man), or you just stabbed somebody or somebody just stabbed you(over that mean woman)…you get the picture.
3. Whatever it was, you got no choice in the matter. Blues is about dealing with loss, and finding happiness in a finite world.
4. Your verbal and adjectival constructions are slippery at best.
5. When the blues travels, it takes the bus or rides in the back of a pickup. It never takes the plane.
The blues drives a Chevy or an old Buick. A non blues ride would be anything else.
6. Teens don’t sing blues, only adults. You have to be old enough to face the electric chair for stabbing your woman’s back door man. Tiger Woods could never sing the blues, but Sonny Liston could. It’s about facing death.
7.You can’t sing the blues if you have all your teeth, have good eyesight, went to an Ivy League school or have a 401K. You can sing the blues if you lost all your teeth, are blind, have one suit that you sleep in all the time, and know that you will never have more money than you have right now.
8. Blues don’t sing in Seattle, or Vancouver, or Denver. Blues can be in New York, but not from New York. Blues are in towns like New Orleans, Biloxi, Chicago, Baltimore,even Montreal.
Blues places are the highway rest stop, cheap motels, empty beds, and the bottom of a whiskey glass.
Non blues places are Dillards and the Mall.
You can’t have blues in a Starbucks. It’s just silly. But you can have the blues if you walk out and sit by the dumpster.
9. A blues death is from a stabbing by your woman’s new lover, freezing out in the cold, alcohol poisoning, getting shot, or killed by the state for a crime you didn’t commit. Non blues deaths are from a botched liposuction, or a heart attack on the tennis court.
10. Blues primarily belongs to people of color, but white people are allowed to sing it, but you have to be poor and undesirable to make up for it.
11.Blues beverages include cheap wine, and rancid coffee. Non blues drinks include Perrier, any wine that costs more than $1.99 per bottle, and any coffee with a fancy name.
12. Your woman is always named something like Big Mama, Jelly Roll, or Fat Dumpling. Women named Amber or Michelle will never, ever sing the blues in this world or the next.
13. To create your own blues name, follow these steps:
A-Choose an infirmity, such as Jakeleg, Cripple, One Arm Blind Boy, Humpback, and so forth.
B-Choose a fruit or food name, such as Lemon, Peach or Jelly Roll(be careful with this one, it’s a down home term for vagina).
C-Any dead President’s name.
14. To write your own blues song, follow these steps:
A- Think of a good contrasting rhyme, or even a contrasting image.
B-Make up sentences that make at least a little sense, using your rhymes.
To illustrate, I got all creative and wrote a blues song this morning.
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In Shreveport Blues style(A one chord Drone style like John Lee Hooker used), to be half sung, half spoken. E minor would work best.

RED HOT LOVER

Well I got me a red hot lover,
he the meanest man in town.
Well, I got me a red hot lover,
he weigh 500 pound.
He got a nine inch stick of candy,
and he like to pass it around.
Well I got me a red hot lover,
and he weigh 500 pound.

He don’t do no work,
He stay in bed all day,
When the sun goes down,
he come out to play.

He say, “Hey baby,
want some candy tonight?”,
Stir my honeypot round,
he make me feel all right.

Well I got me a red hot lover,
he the meanest man in town.
Well, I got me a red hot lover,
he weigh 500 pound.
He got a nine inch stick of candy,
and he like to pass it around.
Well I got me a red hot lover,
and he weigh 500 pound.

I found him in the arms of a back door boy,
and he was treatin’ him nice.
He say, “Hey baby, you don’t treat me right,
this boy got jelly roll sweet and tight.

So I got me a knife and stab him twice,
and now he’s laid out cold as ice.
Took that boy back home that night,
and now he keep me warm all right.

Well I got me a back door lover,
he the sweetest man in town.
Well I got me a back door lover,
he don’t weigh 500 pound,
He give me lovin’, all I need,
He bring his love all over me.
Well I got me a back door lover,
he the sweetest man in town.

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Dr John, the great showman.

The immortal John Lee Hooker.

Be loved,

DEL