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Mark Arbour

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  1. Mark Arbour

    Racism

    By Mark Arbour,

    I had a conversation with an older relative who, although he would never admit it, is a total bigot. He went off on a rant about "the Blacks" and their problems, and how Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson don't help their cause at all, and found that with that last sentence we actually agreed on something.
     
    I think about racism in the 1970s and how it compares to attitudes today, and it puts a smile on my face. The younger generation just doesn't seem all that worried about skin color. It seems to me that the vitriol and outrage that Sharpton and Jackson spout is equally out of place. It makes me smile to think that we've moved beyond that kind of conflict.
  2. Mark Arbour
    Thanks to those of you who have sent me e-mails, pms, or otherwise showed concern as to where the fuck I’ve been. To answer the first, most obvious question: I’m fine. Life has its challenges, and I have mine, but there’s nothing there that’s debilitating.
     
    There are three major areas of my life that can impact my writing. My health/wellbeing is obviously one of those, but as I’ve said, that’s pretty good. The next one is the relative level of activity in my life, and I’ve had an awful lot to do. This looks to be a pretty active year for me. To do what Will does to JP, that means I’m busy. J The combined forces of work, home stuff, research, etc. are a bit crushing right now.
     
    The third factor is my muse, or ability/desire to write. For some reason, that has temporarily left me. When I’m busy, but still want to write, I usually find time to do it, but my production fades. In this case, I really haven’t wanted to do much writing, so with the added pressures of real life, I’ve let my online life sort of drift unattended. And I’m finding that there’s really no fighting the relative apathy that envelopes me when I’m in this mode.
     
    In the past, this has happened when I’m in a conundrum about a story, but I have a very clear idea of how I want to proceed with both of my series. With CAP, I have an idea of how I plan to end “Streak” and the initial parts and premise of the next story is already forming in my mind. With Bridgemont, it’s a bit more open-ended, but I have some pivotal events in store.
     
    I’ve been feeling a bit more motivated lately, and I’ve actually done a little writing, but I’ve spent more time reading than anything, and that includes going back over my recent stories for reference. Spring Break approaches, so I hope that in the next month or so I’ll be productive again.
     
    I really do appreciate all of you who read my stories and give me feedback, and I feel bad for leaving you in a lurch. At the same time, I know that you’ll understand life’s pressures, and how a perfect storm like this can really impact my writing.
  3. Mark Arbour
    The focus here is largely on LGBT issues, but the issues women are dealing with are pretty tough too. I heard this song on TV last night (don't remember if it was Fallon or Myers):
     


     

    I suppose I should tell you what this bitch is thinking
    You'll find me in the studio and not in the kitchen
    I won't be bragging 'bout my cars or talking 'bout my chains
    Don't need to shake my ass for you 'cause I've got a brain
     
    If I told you 'bout my sex life, you'd call me a slut
    When boys be talking about their bitches, no one's making a fuss
    There's a glass ceiling to break, uh-huh, there's money to make
    And now it's time to speed it up 'cause I can't move at this pace
     
    [bridge:]
    Sometimes it's hard to find the words to say
    I'll go ahead and say them anyway
    Forget your balls and grow a pair of tits
     
    [Chorus:]
    It's hard, it's hard, it's hard out here for a bitch
    It's hard for a bitch (for a bitch) for a bitch,
    It's hard
    It's hard out here for a bitch
    It's hard for a bitch (for a bitch) for a bitch,
    It's hard
    It's hard out here
     
    If you're not a size six, then you're not good looking
    Well, you better be rich, or be real good at cooking
    You should probably lose some weight 'cause we can't see your bones
    You should probably fix your face or you'll end up on your own
     
    Don't you want to have somebody who objectifies you?
    Have you thought about your butt? Who's gonna tear it in two?
    We've never had it so good, uh-huh, we're out of the woods
    And if you can't detect the sarcasm, you've misunderstood
     
    [bridge]
     
    [Chorus]
     
    A bitch, a bitch, a bitch, bitch, bitch [4x]
     
    Inequality promises that it's here to stay
    Always trust the injustice 'cause it's not going away
    Inequality promises that it's here to stay
    Always trust the injustice 'cause it's not going away


  4. Mark Arbour
    I've been really down yesterday for a number of reasons, but mostly because of Vic's death.
     
    I was having an early dinner at Mimi's Cafe last night and taking advantage of their free wifi to read Treb's post more thoroughly, along with all the responses, and to write out a comment on the announcement thread. I sat there afterwards, trying to subtly dab the tears away, when I looked up and saw this couple sitting in a booth diagonally from mine.
     
    There were two young men there, probably in their early 20s. One was cute and thin, a real twink; the other guy was bigger, with bigger muscles and a beefier frame. They were in the booth but sitting next to each other, touching constantly. At one point, the twink rubbed his cheek on the beefy dude's chest in a playful way. They giggled, then the beefy dude leaned in toward the twink as if to listen to him say something, but the twink kissed his neck instead. They were so cute, it was hard not to stare, but they were so visibly entranced with each other, they never made eye contact with me. But what blew my mind was that they were doing this, acting all lovey-dovey, in a restaurant, and no one really seemed to give a shit.
     
    Now some of you will note that that's not a big deal. Who the fuck cares. Well, I don't live in San Francisco or New York (we'll chalk that up to rotten luck on my part), I live in an upscale suburb of St. Louis, where people usually are required to have one SUV, and it should be foreign. Here in Missouri, the only way two guys are going to be able to marry each other is if they are able to prove they're guns and they get the NRA to support them. Yet here they are, these two guys, having this incredibly romantic interchange, right here in a restaurant in suburban middle-America. And no one kicked their asses, or tried to.
     
    I've never seen that here before. I've seen it in other places, but not here. How ironic that I do on the day I find out we lost Vic.
  5. Mark Arbour
    I rarely use this blog, but I figured this may be a good opportunity to resurrect it, even though it's not Easter. Some of you have been asking me about my Bridgemont series, wondering why I haven't posted a new chapter of Odyssey. Wondering if I've given up on the story.
     
    I haven't given up on Odyssey, I just haven't felt like writing it. That probably sounds pretty strange. I mean, I created the story and the characters, so why wouldn't I want to write about it. What I'm finding is that my writing, along with my moods, can be pretty mercurial. Sometimes I'm in a place where I'm into both stories at the same time, and i can take turns alternating between them. Most of the times, though, it doesn't work that way. Most of the time, I get transfixed with one or the other (CAP or Bridgemont) and most of my creative thoughts and my energy flow into that story.
     
    It actually gets more complicated than that. For me to do my best, I have to absorb myself into the character. I have to get into that mindset, and sort of let the writing part of my brain become the person I'm writing. If my characters in the two series are starkly different, it's harder to switch stories.
     
    Lately I've been very productive with Paternity, churning out chapters at a rate that annoys Sharon. I've actually got ten more chapters (through 91) roughed out and in editing. I'm at a spot in that storyline where I just want to keep on going, and I'm near the end, so I kind of want to finish it out. I have one more quirky issue to deal with as far as Wade goes, but otherwise the action has more to do with Will (and Robbie, JJ, and Brad).
     
    When I've been productive with both stories, I've noticed that it's when I'm writing Wade in Paternity and George in Odyssey. That's not too hard to understand, since those two characters are very similar. When I throw Will into the mix (or someone like Matt or Brad), it gets tougher, because they're so different.
     
    One final, but critical, factor is that when I've been away from one story for awhile, I have to re-immerse myself. That means that before I dive back into Odyssey, I have to go back and re-read what I've already done (and probably go back to St. Vincent for a bit too). That takes some time, and some motivation. I'm working on that.
     
    I struggle with forcing myself away from one story and onto the other, just so I won't leave my readers high and dry. Well, high is OK. But in the end, I'm learning that if I force it, the story just isn't as good. In my brain, I feel the pendulum shifting, and I'm sure I'll be back to work on Odyssey soon, but I just can't force it.
     
    I'm sorry if I let you loyal and devoted Odyssey readers down by my erratic focus. I do mean that. But I really do need to follow the creative path my brain is demanding of me.
  6. Mark Arbour

    About a girl...

    By Mark Arbour,

    I had one of those retro moments today. I was driving home, reached down to grab my lighter to fire up a joint, and bumped my IPOD, jarring it into random mode. This song came on and flooded me with happy heterosexual memories.
     
     
    This line "Jackie was a rich punk rocker silver spoon and a paper plate" reminded me of a friend of mine. She wasn't named Jackie, but we'll go with that. "Jackie" was beautiful, not in a spiked-heel model kind of way, but in a sexy way: her body moved like the body of a cat, smooth and lithe. No drastic or jerky moves for her, everything was fluid, melodic. She was, from a purely technical standpoint, the best female f**k I ever had.
     
     
     
     
     
  7. Mark Arbour
    It wasn't until I wrote Chronicles of An Academic Predator and 1968 that I really understood the significance of this holiday. I lived in my white-bread suburban world, aware of racial issues and tensions, but not impacted by them, at least not significantly. Then I read about the civil rights movement (riots in Birmingham, the Freedom riders, etc.) as part of the research for those two stories, and was amazed at the courage and fortitude of the people of all races, but especially African-Americans, who fought so hard for change. They really did blaze the trail for the gay rights movement, and the fight for fair treatment for the GLBT community that persists today.
     
    If you have a spare hour to kill, go to Wikipedia and type in "1962". It will give you a summary of the events of that year. Follow it through to 1968, at least. I think you'll get a feel for what I'm talking about.
     
    If you do, take a moment to note the change in tempo and violence as the movement shifted it's focus from the South (early 1960s) to the North (latter 60s).
     
  8. Mark Arbour

    A Culture of Hate

    By Mark Arbour,

    I'm starting to wonder if that's what it is....a desperate need to find people to hate. There has to be an enemy, a focus of all that's wrong. And it can't just be an individual, it has to be a group, an entire group, branded usually by their race or religion. It's amazing how the same groups seem to make the rounds too. There's always the blacks. They're a constant. Then there are the Jews, unless it's time to hate the Muslims, in which case the Jews are convenient friends. And of course there are Hispanic people, especially the ones who migrate across the border. Damned illegal immigrants. Why don't they just go back to where they came from? That usually comes out of the mouths of white people, who never bother to notice the Native Americans around them. Some groups pop up as convenient targets, only to fade into the background. I'm reminded of the Vietnamese people who immigrated to the US in the '70's and '80s, who were collectively scorned as "The Boat People." We don't hear much about them anymore. They're off our hate radar for the time being.
     
    And then there are the gays. Another group to hate, another convenient target. (Unless you're drunk and want to get your dick sucked.) They go through periods of relative calm, where they're considered quaint. Like when "Brokeback Mountain" came out or "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and "Will and Grace" was all the rage, It's easy to keep the gays in reserve, just in case we run out of other people to hate at that particular moment, and there are no blacks around.
     
    So how is it that gay guys, guys who put up with so much crap and abuse, can turn around and heap it onto other groups? Is it this desire to find a group that is hated even more, so they're one rung up on the bottom of the ladder? Is it part of our culture, to always find someone else, some other group, that's more reviled so we don't have to be at the bottom of the heap? Or is it just a form of self-loathing?
     
    Will we ever be able to move beyond that: beyond the point where we paint a group with labels and condemn them en masse? Or do we, as a society, need to have a target to aim at? And why is it that the people who wore the target only yesterday seem to be so willing to paint it on someone new?
  9. Mark Arbour
    I love French history, so you may disregard this recommendation and figure that I'm biased. You'd be making a big mistake. If you're in Paris or going to Paris, plan to see the Grandes eaux nocturnes. I've been through the palace lots of times, and gone to see the fountains run (Grandes eaux Musicales), but none of them even came close to this.
     
    I went on a Saturday night a few weeks ago and it was a beautiful evening. Just a bit of a chill in the air, which is good, because there is a lot of walking to do. As they do when they run the fountains in the daytime, there is 17th and 18th century music pumped through the gardens. They also turn on the water. That's where the similarities end. At night, they actually pour dry ice in some of the fountains to give them almost an eerie feeling. They're lit up beautifully. Along the center parterre between the chateau and the grand canal, they set up a series of gas torches that go off in a sequenced pattern to match the music. When they go off all at once, it feels as if a jet is flying low overhead; the ground even vibrates. There are all kinds of interesting food vendors there, giving it a bit of a festival/fair feel, but nothing too much, and certainly nothing too tacky. And then at the end of the evening (11:05pm), they have a huge fireworks display, set off over the grand canal. Then there's plenty of time to stroll back to the RER station and catch the last train back to Paris.
     
    And did I mention that they have some of the cutest guys in France working there?
     
     
     
     
    Here's a snippet below from the Versailles Website.
     
    Grandes eaux nocturnes
     
     
     
     
    As night falls, the Louis XIV Royal Garden becomes a stunning audiovisual spectacle. Visitors discover pools and groves filled with water and light, decorated with glowing colour. This year, once again, lighting and set designers will take over the gardens to make them glitter with a thousand lights and dazzling installations: from the ghost ship of the Sun King, Louis XIV's flagship, which will emerge from the waters, to the lasers that will criss-cross the sky and the spectacular defeat of the giant Encelade.
     
    Dates :
    Saturday evenings between 19 June and 28 August 2010 from 9 to 11.20 p.m.
     
     
    Bookings:
    Grandes Eaux Nocturnes:
  10. Mark Arbour

    Prudes

    By Mark Arbour,

    A while ago, there was a bit of an uproar here because some of the ad pictures on the home page were too racy. There was concern because the ads here are supposed to be "family friendly." Then there's always the group of self-righteous prigs who finds sex in stories offensive. What a bunch of shit. This is a site for gay-themed stories. The stories are going to revolve around sexuality, and are usually going to involve sex of some sort, whether it's implied or graphic. Does a story have to have graphic sex to be good? Hell no. Is a story that has graphic sex bad/evil/etc.? Hell no.
     
    This kind of thought pulverizes my courteous shields, and makes me want to tell the opiners of such opinions to run off and form your own gay version of Focus on Family. The judgmentalism, the assumed air of superiority is just as toxic , even more because it comes from people who should know better. I'll bet these guys who argue so prudishly for decency are the same ones down at the local bathhouse, sitting in a sling and pulling a train.
     
    Then again, those people could always wander over to Awesomedude and hang out with those authors, many of whom are certain they're about to win the next Pulitzer Prize with their literary efforts.
  12. Mark Arbour
    I just got back from an almost three week vacation. It was a long time to be gone. I don't blog much, but one little vignette was kind of esoteric, and I thought I'd share it with you.
     
    I was riding on the Metro towards the Etoille when a young Frenchman got on the train. He was probably less than an inch shorter than 6 feet tall. Frenchmen come in all shapes, sizes and colors. The stereotypical Frenchman has dark hair and a masculine five o'clock shadow. This guy wasn't like that at all. He had a real aristocratic bearing and look to him, someone I might write into one of my stories. His skin was smooth, as if he could go for a day or two without shaving and no one would be all that much wiser. He had a long oval face with a smooth straight nose; it was perhaps more rounded as if to take the pointiness out of his face. When he smiled, he had one dimple, on his left cheek. His hair was a darker brown at the roots and a lighter brown at the ends, and with it's medium length, the contrast was really attractive. I don't know if it was like that naturally, but it looked like it, and isn't that really the goal anyway? He wore a suit, as if he was coming from work. His hands were thin and elegant, the skin smooth as if he didn't do hard work at all. He wore an elegant square watch, with an unrecognizable logo, and had no rings on. His black, non-descript work shoes were scuffed, the one flaw in his otherwise flawless appearance.
     
    When he walked onto the train, I couldn't help but look at him, and his handsome brown eyes caught mine and he smiled slightly before sitting in the jump seat across the aisle from mine. He took out his cell phone; my French is good enough to understand what he said.
     
    "I'm on my way now. "
     
    "I missed you too."
     
    "It doesn't matter what we do tonight, as long as we do it together."
     
    "I can stay over tonight. Let me go home and get clothes for tomorrow."
     
    "I can't wait to see you too.'
     
    The train was noisy, despite the rubber wheels, so there was no way to know who the other person was. Was it a woman or a man? Were they dating, or in a relationship? It's considered rude to stare at people on the Metro, so I watched him in the reflection in the window, only daring to take the odd sideways look at him. After he hung up he had that look on his face, the look of a young man who was truly smitten by the other person. It's hard to describe that look, the idyllic expression, the stupid grin, the slight blush.
     
    The train arrived at the Etoillle, the end of this particular line, and we all got up to get off. He rushed for the door, anxious to get over to see this other lucky person that so ignited him, and bumped into me.
     
    "I'm so sorry," he said politely.
     
    "It's no problem," I said. "Enjoy your evening."
     
    "I will," he said with a grin. The doors open and he sprinted off.
  13. Mark Arbour
    If you ever end up at Detroit's Wayne County Airport, make sure you go through the underground tunnel between Terminal A and Terminals B/C. They've got a psychedelic tunnel, similar to the one at Chicago's O'Hare airport, only better. The sides of the tunnel are lined with patterned glass panels. Behind the panels are lights, presumably neon, that change color in time to the music. As you ride along on the moving sidewalks, this music plays , sometimes new-age, sometimes almost tribal. While it does, the lights behind the panels change colors, illuminating the whole tunnel. It can get darker when it occasionally turns a deep blue, or lighter as the yellows or pale greens come out, but there's rarely just one color. It's very vibrant.
     
    For an added bonus, get really stoned before you go.
  15. Mark Arbour

    Religious Irony

    By Mark Arbour,

    I got sucked into watching "Amazing Race" recently. There was this father-daughter team, and in true Christian form, every time they did something well, she thanked Jesus and God and talked about how blessed they were. Blah blah blah.
     
    So last night, on EASTER SUNDAY, she and her father were eliminated. Evidently God decided they were less worthy than the two brothers, one of whom is a raging homosexual and therefore and inferior human being destined to burn in hell. And if that wasn't enough, they were also beaten by the lesbian couple! More Satan-Bound cretins.
     
    I'm sure she'd have a really good rationale for it. And I'm sure it would be so much bullshit.
  16. Mark Arbour
    I think it's one of the great ironies in life that when we are young and at our hottest, our insecurities simultaneously blind us to that fact. I've seen that with lots of guys on this site. Guys like Lacey (he's so cute) or Patrick (with those amazing blue eyes) or even Chase (with his faux-asshole attitude), who have no idea how amazingly handsome and attractive they are. Well, maybe Chase does.
     
    I think back some twenty five years ago and look at pictures of myself back then, and remember how I felt exactly the same way. And damn, I was hot back then. Back then. I didn't know it. I didn't get it at all. I thought about the guys around me that I was most attracted to, the ones who I'd fall down on my knees for. So to speak. They really weren't any more attractive than I was, or than my other friends were. They were just more confident. It was like they'd figured out the secret, the magic riddle. They'd managed to decipher that if they gave themselves credit for their looks and their charm, they'd project that confidence, and increase their attractiveness exponentially.
     
    I'm not one of those guys who sits around and pines away for "the old days", but that's one lesson I wish I would have learned.
  17. Mark Arbour

    The Meeting (update)

    By Mark Arbour,

    After that meeting last Friday, "Jack" has pretty much avoided me. No, not pretty much. He's totally avoided me. It was funny, because he saw me in the Student Center yesterday and took off in the other direction. What a pussy. It's not like I'm going to kick his ass.
     
    It's so f**king passive/aggressive, and so typical of academia. A colleague said he was pissed off because my proposal didn't include any of his courses, and I didn't include him in the development of some of the new ones (there are three).
  19. Mark Arbour
    I was eating lunch at a restaurant a few days ago. I went by myself to get some peace and quiet while I was grading finals. Peace and quiet. Yeah right.
     
    My table was in the corner, and there was another table to my right, set up so the person on the opposite side was facing me. There was an older woman and a younger woman at the table talking, while the old broad was facing my table so I could hear her just as well as her friend. Plus you know how some of those old people have problems with the volume of their voices anyway. Old Woman was talking about her daughter and her daughter's "friend", who was, according to Old Woman, effeminate. She goes on this lengthy dissertation about how this young man is a good friend to her daughter, even if he is "that way." She expands, talking about homosexuality and how it's not a sin to be gay, it's a sin to act on it. So according to her, as long as this young man doesn't commit any homosexual acts, he's fine. Soon as he sucks a dick, well, it's straight to hell. Well, not entirely. She still thought that having those thoughts were a "sin", but that didn't really matter because everyone sins. How magnanimous of her.
     
    By now I'm really eavesdropping, gleeful that Old Woman will probably die in the next 10 years, one more homophobe gone from the face of the earth. Then she goes on to explain to her friend that we all have our crosses to bear, and that God gives us those to challenge us. But we have to bear it, we have to resist temptation. So God has made this young man gay, but he needs to resist his urges. That is his destiny. That is what God has planned for him.
     
    And then, the most telling piece of this conversation. The topic turns to her own sex life, and she mentions how she never liked sex. She always thought that the earth would move, that it would be the end-all-be-all of experiences, to bowl her over, but it wasn't. She was willing to grant that it was OK, but she didn't see the big deal. Her friend asked her if she ever talked about this (sex) with her husbands, and of course she didn't. Barry (evidently the first one) would have been too embarrassed to talk about it. I didn't catch a reason for her not talking to the other one.
     
    I wonder if that isn't the missing link in determining why people are homophobic? Maybe they're all jealous that these gay people are having sex and enjoying it while they don't.
     
    Save a homophobe. Give him or her an orgasm.
  20. Mark Arbour

    The Meeting

    By Mark Arbour,

    So we had a big meeting today, with damn near all the professors and department chairs, the dean, everyone from our college. I was on the agenda to deliver this proposal on a new degree track. It's something I'd been working on, and I'd talked about it at the last several meetings, explaining the issues and trying to answer all the questions they threw at me. It was important to me, and important to the school. So after my presentation, this guy, we'll call him John, gets up and starts slamming it. In front of the dean, in front of the department chairs, in front of all of my colleagues, he starts to find all kinds of "problems" with the plan. It was really frustrating, because he never asked me what my purpose was, or what I was trying to achieve, he just condemned it.
     
    I just sat there, stunned. I wasn't stunned because of the points. I could have handled them. I was stunned because I thought Jack and I were friends. I mean, we talked about all kinds of stuff, and I had a lot of respect and affection for the guy. I figured that if he had an issue with me, or my project, that he'd come in and talk to me about it. Or send me an e-mail. I never would have thought that he'd stand up in front of all those people and slam me like that. But these people knew me, and most of them understood what I was trying to accomplish, and the thing went ahead anyway. It wasn't a big deal in the greater scheme of things. It was just sad that at the end of the day, I had a lot less respect for Jack, and I wondered how I had so overestimated our friendship.
  21. Mark Arbour

    ratemyprofessors.com

    By Mark Arbour,

    That's the website. Ratemyprofessors.com. It's pretty surprising that this little resource actually works. I don't know if you've ever been there, but it's a place where "students" can go and rate their professors. They have categories in ease of the class, quality of the case, and a place for comments. They even have a chili pepper for "hot" professors.
     
    Sounds great right? Well, it's funny how absolutely despised this site is by Academia, meaning the professors. And it's not even self-serving. I've heard this from profs who had top ratings, yet they still detested it. The reason is how the website gathers its data. It's an open forum, so anyone can breeze in and post anything they want. Doesn't have to be a student. In fact, profs could be going in and rating themselves. So it's fraught with empirical flaws, and is discounted as a useless tool.
     
    Only it's not. Anecdotally speaking, At the two universities I've taught at in the past 10 years, the ratings posted are spot on. The assholes, well, they're rated poorly. The great teachers, well, they're rated really well. I find that interesting, that such an open forum, so plagued by totally uncontrolled information gathering, still manages to hit the nail pretty much on the head. I like to think optimistically, and maybe it's the students themselves that, through their honesty, keep it pure. Not sure if that's true, but it's nice to think that way. In any event, when I'm advising my students and they want to know about a prof I know nothing about, I'll pull it up and check him/her out. It may be wrong, but it hasn't been yet (in my experience).
  22. Mark Arbour
    We all seem to have this vision, this idyllic relationship where we find the ONE man/woman to be our soul mate, who completes us, who we can be happy, love, and have unprotected sex with. Maybe. But I was just thinking about this (Billy inspired me with that hot picture of him with the mask) and it seems that it's easy to set that as the overriding goal and to forget the fun and excitement of f**king someone new. The thrill of meeting someone and seeing if you can get into his pants, and if you do, what it's like to explore someone fresh, with new turn-ons and turn-offs. That guy you see, at a party, at a bar, in the restroom... he's such an enigma. So interesting. What would he look like without his clothes on? Could you get them off? Ah, the challenge begins. And if you do, what will you find? The true excitement of exploring a whole new world.
     
    You're standing in line at the grocery store and there's a guy behind you, waiting. He smiles at you, you smile back. Was the smile more than just a friendly smile? What was that twinkle in his eye for? You strike up a conversation and start flirting. He flirts back. You start to wonder if he's straight or gay, or bi. Who gives a shit, as long as he's into you. And if you could get him to come back to your place and rip off his clothes, will he have a hairy body, or be smooth as silk? Both can be cool, but will the hair be in weird tufts that make him look like a Wookie that had a battle with a bottle of Nair, or will it be distributed in a sexy, masculine kind of way. Hairless can be cool too, unless the whole thing makes him look like a 13-year-old.
     
    Will he like to kiss? Will he let you kiss him? Will he be any good at it? I love kissing, even if the guy is bad at it, but if I meet a guy who really knows how to do it, he can get me to do anything. I'm talking about the guy who seems to have muscles in his lips, who can undulate them. Not the guy who's lips seem to flop around with no control, their only inspiration a raw passion that becomes mildly unattractive. I'm talking about the guy who knows how to use his tongue, when to wrestle with it, and when to tease with it. Not the guy who thinks he's got to try and reach your tonsils.
     
    When you kiss his neck, behind his ear, does he like it? Does he moan and roll his head back, exposing his throat to you in a primitive way that says he trusts you not to bite him and sever his windpipe? I love guys like that, who get into that kind of attention, who grab the back of my head and pull me in, begging for more.
     
    When you move lower, to his chest and his nipples, what does he like? I think this is one of the most interesting parts of a guy, because guys all seem to respond differently. Some like really gentle touches, some like a more firm touch, some like to have their nipples flicked, some like to have them squeezed hard as hell or damn near bit off, and some don't get off on having their nipples played with at all. For me, it always pisses me off when I'm with a guy and he does that to me and thinks that just because he likes to have his nipples bit hard, that I will. I don't. The downside of a new lover.
     
    What about his dick? Call me shallow, but how exciting is it to meet a new guy and finally get his pants down and see what he's packing? I'm not a size queen, so it's not about being huge. But I think that first look, when he's hard and you pull it out of his pants, is one of the most exciting things about the whole deal. It's like Christmas and you have no idea what's in the nicely wrapped up box.
     
    Then it's beyond the visual, it's about the taste and the smell. The smell. Does this guy know what hygiene is? I hate that, guys who smell like they haven't showered in days. A guy who has been working out, who has that "new" sweat....damn those pheromones can fire me up. And all guys smell unique...the question is will this guy smell good. Does he like to have his balls played with or sucked on? Some guys really get into that, not me, but some guys.
     
    What about his response? Is the guy just laying there while you do this, or is he active? I love feedback, I love to hear a guy moaning, letting me know I'm hitting his buttons. Will this guy be a moaner? Or will he lay there like a car on a rack waiting to be serviced?
     
    Speaking of hygiene, will he let me roll him over, and if I do, what will I find? I'm always hoping for that perfect blend of clean yet not so clean that all of the scent is washed away from his taint. Still, that's better than the alternative. I figure if he's taken the time to clean up, I'll reward him. But by now, I'm usually focused on one thing and one thing only: will he let me f**k him?
     
    And now it's a whole new ball game. What will he be like when he really gets into it? Will he work with me, move with me, really let me know what he likes, or will he be like the Dead Sea?
     
    Everything is new, everything is a discovery. With an old lover, it's comfortable, and no matter how much you try, there's a sameness to the sex. With someone new, everything is a surprise, sometimes a good one, sometimes a bad one.
     
    All of these possibilities, and it's just a guy standing in line behind you at the grocery store. Wink at him.
  23. Mark Arbour

    Elisha the Prophet

    By Mark Arbour,

    I went to a Bar Mitzvah today, a pretty rare event for a goy like me. I have to say that the music was awesome, a real "folk music" feel to it. I like the upbeat stuff, the mellow stuff was too plaintive.
     
    Anyway, one of the themes of the service was the story of the prophet Elisha. The story as presented was that this barren couple gave the prophet a place to crash. He told them that within a year they'd have a kid. And they did. Then the kid got older, got hurt and died. So the mother ran to Elisha and he laid down on the kid and breathed life back into him. I'm sure there are more details there that I didn't get.
     
    I couldn't help but think about how things can get distorted and blown up out of proportion over time. When I heard the story, I came out of it with a whole different idea of what happened. I'm thinking the husband couldn't father kids, but this Elijah guy, while staying there, f**ked the wife and knocked her up. Then when the kid "dies", she runs to him and he performs some sort of CPR (rescue breathing) on the kid (which he knows is his) and saves his live.
     
    In any event, what a great way for a wife to explain away her adultery. Kind of like that whole immaculate conception thing that Mary pulled off.
  24. Mark Arbour

    Voices

    By Mark Arbour,

    I was walking through the halls today and this guy was standing there talking to another guy. He was ordinary looking; I hadn't really noticed him. But when I got close enough to hear him, his voice just drew me in. It was so deep, really really deep, with a melodic quality to it. Suddenly this ordinary guy was transformed, in my mind, into an adonis just because of that.
     
    That made me think about guys and their voices. There are guys with nasally voices. Some of them are cool, in a surfer kind of way. The hottest ones seem attached to young guys. Then there are the guys with raspy, masculine voices. Like guys who have smoked all their lives. That can be hot too, if it's attached to a Marlboro man. Some guys have really soft voices, like they don't want to put out too much volume and draw attention to themselves. Those shy ones, with their cute little smiles....deadly. Some have high-pitched voices, and those are the ones I have the hardest time getting into. At it's worst, I think of a effeminate lisp attached to a bitchy guy. At it's best, I see a guy who is a kind of coquettish. A guy designed to be a total bottom.
     
    But none of those voices came close to this guy. Wow.
  25. Mark Arbour

    Students

    By Mark Arbour,

    This is the e-mail I received tonight:
     
     
    Dear Professor,
     
    I know class has just started and I'm already behind. I'm sorry I've screwed up so bad already. I plan to come by your office this week to find out if there's anything I can do to succeed in your class.
     
    Signed: Hot male student. (OK, that's not really how he signed it, that's just descriptive)
     
    Personally, I think it sounds like the beginning of a really bad porno.
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