Wednesday, 30 November 2016

You know, the current thinking generally upholds my right to be gay, but there is still this shudder amongst straight people at the thought that homosexual sexual activity includes fucking and the possibility of shit being involved.

So there's a principle, but also an attitude of, please, don't let me think about that.

In my case, at 68, this isn't a problem. Just give me a good book to read instead.

Tuesday, 29 November 2016

A kiss shared between two men.

Monday, 28 November 2016

Yeah, that's me wrapped up. I'm already thinking, oh shit.

I turned 68 a few weeks ago.

How the fuck did that happen?

I'm amazed I'm still around. I've smoked for fifty years, gone through numerous traumatic times, know depression as this crippling part of me, and now drink far too much, so I'm fat and nobody's idea of a nice cup of tea. Not that I'm looking for anyone anymore. Just the thought of doing so makes me shudder.

But, hey, that's just me, and I still hold to what I say on my profile....keep well, keep strong, keep true, keep loving. 

Hope you guys out there are trying to do just that.


Old, but still relevant. Yahoo continues to inform us of calm, unbiased and objective comments:

Ihn 45 minutes ago  Drop dead, you fudge pcker

Portrait of a nude young man (beach).

Sunday, 27 November 2016

This is going back to South Africa and the years of apartheid. Kwela music was very popular among the white English people in Durban. I was about ten at the time. There was a party, lots of people in this big room, and my mother took my hand and we went on to the dance floor and jived, and when the music finished, a man hoisted me onto his shoulders and walked me around, everyone cheering and clapping. This stays in my memory more than fifty years on.

Please explore this unique sound.

Friday, 25 November 2016

Portrait of a nude young man (studio).

Monday, 21 November 2016


You're on a hilltop and you realise you've made a terrible mistake. There's a long deep zig-zag path in front of you leading down to the seafront. Perhaps he'll be there, and you start running. You're running, and then running hard, almost falling, your breath now urgent, your heart thumping fast, and a wild sobbing is coming from you, that you might never see him again. You go on, you have to gone on, and then somehow, finally, you've reached the end of the path, and you stoop to get air into your lungs, bent over but still able to look this way and that, and then you see him, his head turned to the grey blustery sea, and you are filled with extraordinary joy. Something catches his attention - he sees you, and the most beautiful smile comes across his face. You dash cross the road and he opens his arms and the two of you hold each other, saying nothing, just swaying together.