Date

thoughts, well accounts really:

Mo 18-05-2002

How to make luv to a Muzlim

Next saturday (25th) is scatnite at vagevuur, so if you want a taste of my but or would like to give me a taste of yours . . CU there. I won't be sleeping there as the B&B is sold out, as usual. But as the party starts early (be in at 10 or you do not get in) and my alcohol consumption mostly stays minimal coz there's so much else to consume, its no problem to do the bikeride back.

Was wondering wether my favorite moviemaker brucelabruce was still alive and luckily he was, only not producing much movies becoz he's gotten himself hooked on a boyfriend. And wrote quite a bit about it. As I have met a really nice muslim guy myself and come across ever increasing numbers in the Shaft darkroom (not surprising coz it's in the middle of an arab neighborhood) I took the liberty of stealing some of it's content. (I seem to get a hang of that on this page; is it me being lazy?):

I Slam for Islam
One late, lonely night back in February of this year, I found myself, as one sometimes does, wandering the dingy halls of a gay S & M bathhouse in the bowels of downtown Toronto. Entering my private cubicle, I caught the eye of a very intense, handsome fellow with a close-cropped beard and brown skin who I figured was Latino, but who actually turned out to be a Shiite Muslim raised in East Africa. I invited him into my room, and thus began my crash course in the wild world of Islam.

Before I met Akbar, I was inexcusably ignorant (as, I've subsequently discovered, most westerners are) about a religion practiced by more than a quarter of the world's population. Well before Black Tuesday I'd been warned by both straight women and gay men alike with some experience in the matter to steer clear of Muslim males as potential boyfriend material, regaled by anecdotes of torture and abuse that made even the Taliban seem like a bunch of Christmas carollers by comparison. But as the relationship with my Muslim (who, it must be said, has his own unique set of theosophical beliefs, as most thinking religious people do - no religion is entirely monolothic) began to evolve from a purely sexual one to something deeper and more emotionally complex, I realized that there are a whole slew of misconceptions and stereotypes about Middle Eastern men and practitioners of Islam, many of which, unavoidably, have sprung from a complicated set of historical and geo-political realities. Or, as one Islamic scholar puts it, imagery can be reworked to expedite a shifting political economy.

But this is Vice Magazine, not the Harvard International Journal of Press/Politics, so I'll try to contain myself as much as possible to the subject at hand - how to make love to a Muslim - and attempt to keep the political commentary to a minimum . . . Fat chance.

Not having personally visited or lived in any predominantly Muslim countries, I'm forced to rely on anecdotal information from friends (like Akbar), who have, and information from academic sources such as As'ad AbuKhalil, a professor of Poli Sci at Cal State University, who recently wrote a fascinating piece called "Sex and the Suicide Bomber", to sort out the intricies of Islamic sexual behaviour. I add to this mix my own personal experience of sex under Islam - and I do mean under - although this may entail some inductive reasoning - extrapolating generalizations from a particular case. Occupational hazzard with infidels. The fact that I'm homosexual complicates things - it always does - but in this instance, not in the way you might expect.

In the aforementioned article, Mr. AbuKhalil debunks some of the central myths about Islamic sexuality. One false notion is that Muslims hate the West because of its sexual and social liberties, which presumes that Islam is predicated on sexual repression and frustration. This is supposed to be the reason why the 911 hijackers were willing to commit suicide on the promise of a platoon of black-eyed virgins awaiting them in heaven, but doesn't quite explain why they were drinking cocktails, watching porno, and frequenting strip joints before the attack. In fact, just as people who consider themselves Christians will sometimes bend the rules and go on a bender, your average Muslim also knows how to party. Prostitution is probably more accepted in the Middle East than in North America (the system of concubinage is tacitly sanctioned), brothels proliferate, and hash-smoking is widespread - and not just amongst the Sufis, the rock&rollers of Islam. The image propped up for the west by governmental or religious establishments like the Saudis or the Taliban - who, for example, take the Koranic entreaty for women to be modest about their sex appeal to an absurd, oppressive extreme - doesn't always reflect the reality of the streets. So if you're dating a Muslim, even one who is so devout that he prays five times a day and blasts the Koran from his car stereo system like some crazy mixed up Islamic James Dean, like mine does, don't expect him to be a shrinking violet, or even someone who is particularly conflicted about his occasional vices.

Mr. AbuKhalil aptly argues that, as he puts it, "Islam has traditionally been much more tolerant of bodily pleasure than Christianity." And from my experience, I can only add, "You can say that again." Companions of The Prophet Mohammed himself bragged of his sexual prowess, as opposed to the twelve disciples of Jesus who, the way they tell it, would have you believe that Christ was a sexual geek. In general, Islam promotes sex and other earthly pleasures as something to be fully enjoyed within prescribed moral boundaries (no adultery, rape, or sexual battery, for example.) With regard to my Muslim, sensual experience is viewed as the very essence of worship, an extreme appreciation, if you will, of the divine gifts that God has bestowed upon him. That's why it should come as no surprise that not infrequently in bed he breaks into spontaneous rececitations of the Koran in Arabic. And as you can imagine, with lines like these, a Muslim can romance the pants off you.

The question of what is "haram" - forbidden - in Islam is open to a certain amount of interpretation; for example, although alcohol consumption is nixed in the Koran, some modern-thinking mullahs condone it in moderation (although you still might want to have your beer without pork rinds). But as in virtually all religions, the question of homosexuality is the mother of all harams. It may interest you to know that unlike the Bible, which, in Leviticus 20:13, explicitly states that a man who lies down with another man (let alone fuck him), should be put to death, similar prohibitions in the Koran (there are only two references) are more nuanced and open to interpretation. In the Hadith, however, a collection of sayings attributed to Mohammed, it does state that "When a man mounts another man, the throne of God shakes" (which actually makes it sound pretty exciting), but also that you should kill the one who's doing it as well as the one it's being done to, i.e., the pitcher and the catcher. In general, though, Mr. AbuKhalil suggests that historically, "the homosexual/heterosexual categories in Islamic societies have not been as sharply drawn as in the West, people easily moving in and out of the two categories with little stigma attached." He points out that many young Middle Eastern men lose their cherry to another man, pedagocially or otherwise, and, most significantly, that effeminate men aren't subject to the same fag bashing on the street as fairies have traditionally suffered in the US. In Islamic societies in which men are often separated from women, affection between males, even sexual expression, is not so unusual, which might explain, but not justify, why American sailors have been writing "Hijack this, fags!" on the bombs being dropped on Afghanistan. Faggotry is largely reviled in the Middle East only when people try to organize it politically or make it overt, or even worse, to import western paradigms of gayness along with McDonald's and Starbucks. To put it bluntly, if you're a guy mincing around Mecca wearing a tight Spandex t-shirt with "Snatch" written on it in gold glitter while singing "Believe", you probably shouldn't be surprised it somebody pushes a wall over on you.

The bottom line - and it's coming from a devout bottom - is that there's still something extremely sensual and potent about the image of the Islamic male. You only have to compare the stiff, asexual frigidity of Bush and his bookmarmish wife with the moist-eyed, sensitive and soft-spoken quality of the bearded Bin Laden, feminine yet virile, with his multiple wives and vast progeny, to grasp the difference.

Like I said, I can only speak from personal experience, but if my Muslim is any indication, the sexual boundaries that many of us know in the west - top vs. bottom, oral vs. anal, masculine vs. feminine, heterosexual vs. homosexual, missionary vs. doggy-style - are all but false dualities under Islam. In other words, he's a real Bedouin in bed. And if we occasionally act out a certain "true believer versus the infidel" scenario in the bedroom, whether consciously or unconsciously, despite its political incorrectness, it's no one's goddamn business but our own. After all, raping and pillaging are two of the most common sexual fantasies I can think of. But the one thing that we really can't fathom in the west about the Muslim faith is its deeply ingrained mysticism. Only if you're ready to experience the proverbial magic carpet ride should you take on the challenge of slamming for Islam.

Sa 18-05-2002

COC-leer

If there is one party that really stands out here in the Netherlands it's the COC-leer party every two months. Not only is it an non profit setup on the top floors of the building of our the Amsterdam division of our national gay organisation, it has over the last 5 years just gained in style and reputation. The theater room is just perfect, the stage is a huge golden shower area with a pisspool and some bathtubs, the dressingrooms have been filled with slings and the galleries around thwe auditorium are just perfect for finding all thinkable and unthinkable kinks. The dancefloor is perfect and bars, security, wardrobes are just fine. Prices are reasonable and most important audience is yummy. Quite a few my age, so there is plenty of opportunity to update on what's happened to old friends, but the younger crowd also seems to have chosen the goodold COC as the guardian of party quality. I fucked and got fucked to my heart delight and was completely satisfied in that field way too early, at 2 AM, at which time I decided to get back to DWH-Delft where I arrived at 2.20 AM. Hope the police does not read this coz they can figure out my speed was at around 200 km/h about double of what is allowed on most of the A4 stretch. I guess it still is the fatalistic mood I'm in since black monday, may 6th.

Pim's list may have found another great gay flagcarrier in the person of Mr Spong. One of the cleverest shrudest barristers in our country. Humourous too! He would make a great minister of Justice and steer Pim's party's ideology in a balanced and credible way.

Anyway.
DWH was in full swing with lots of amazing old dancetunes, like Geno Soccio and don Ray's garden of Love . . . ' It's a shame to complain but we gotta have a lot more love ' They dont make 'm like that anymore, or? Well I keep you posted on great new dancesongs here too. The Netherlands is vibrating musically, really: Marco V, Tiesto, Corsten, Gielen and my local Favorite Mark van Dale produce amazing things. Coen played a great new mix of Streisand and Summer's enough = enough WOW!

to get you up to date on this I changed the standard music background here to a mix by Eindhoven's pride: Marco V, made to honour the memory of mutual hero PIM. It all is pretty eclastic, rightfully. download does take a bit of time: the file is 7 meg. Note that the end bit, resounding the state of mind of most of us after the assasination does go back to gabber and trance in it's purest form. Very usefull to express fury and anger. It must be said that the gabber-and-skin-guys were the first group to pledge loyalty to him, despite Pim's queerness and reciprocal niceties like this: 3 months ago in a question and answer tv-show on BNN Pim was asked by a Skinhead if his crotch was as bald as his head. Pim replied that the guy, and any other goodlooking baldy for that matter, was welcome in his bedroom for a personal examination.

Th 16-05-2002

new page turned over

in a new record time of under two months!
Eventfull times we live in,
here in the Netherlands.
A parliamentary revolution is going on in my country
and the boat has not stopped rocking by far!
last episode started on the day Pim won the Rotterdam election
this one starts after he posthumously won the national election
Too much is happening, you may conclude
how do I keep up with myself?
I just don't try!

Bad taste
Just heard Gerard Joling is bringing out a song called 'at your service', a tribute he did yesterday at Pim's election headquarters, next to a portrait of Pim with his dogs.
I had to laugh very loud: Joling is one of this countries most silly, stupidity-blurting gay crooners. So why not? I guess they mean it serious. It may be a number one again so you'll probably find it here as soon as I get my hand on it.

I did turn a new leaf but the image above is just too good to deny you all: a bit of bad taste never did anybody any harm
thinking again now:
what a pity he's never going to the palace to start talks about forming governement . . . Two queens first having tea and then on to the balcony, would have made fantastic headlines in the papers!

Th 16-05-2002

First bit here

It is supposed to get me focussed again on what these pages were and will be about, even if that meams, by lack of focus on my own dick and ass, stealing from somebody else:

a Complete gorgeous madman who had a log on diaryland. According to two other diaryfriends, slut and pozlife, who went to NYC to meet him. "HOT DAMN that boy is 'bout as yummy as a boy can be!" (A sentiment repeated by Slutboy, The Doc and G, might I add, so, trust us.) No images of him anywhere, so I cannot judge for myself, but this guy CAN write!

If this is not a 2002 version of Fierstein's Torch song I do not know what is!
I just copied my fav bits here because I'm afraid this madman may take the whole thing offline in a stroke of insanity at any moment.

I just quote:
My Christmas, however, was my family’s version of Absolutely Fabulous entitled Undeniably Hideous. Some highlights include my temper ticking off my Jewish relatives with my unpopular views about Israeli-Palestine relations. I was intending, simply trying to make the point that there are crazy extremists in every religion, every culture. Somehow my words were wrongfully twisted into justification for September 11th and worse I was soon compared with Nazi propaganda and the Holocaust. All arguments aren’t won with the Holocaust. I screamed, and this continuous paranoia must cease. If you wish to remain thinking like a victim, you will remain a victim.Stop drumming this tired education into your children’s heads as if children don’t have enough to worry about without you making them believe in the possibilty of people coming into their house and throwing them in ovens! I was again completely out of control. I soon condemned all religions with statements like It's time for new thinking, stop living your lives based on documents and stories that are thousands of years old! In speaking about Israel, my Uncle continually referred to the Israelis as We. What the hell is we? I asked, You’re from New Jersey, you’re not from the desert nor an Eastern Europeon Getto, In fact your great grandparents arrived in New York in the late Nineteenth Century and were completey immersed in the very top class of Viennese society when they were in Europe! Let’s suppose you fell in love with a girl who was devoutly religious... my Mother’s oldest friend asked. I can’t suppose that, I snapped, because I only sleep with men! but let’s just suppose... she continued. Well suppose you phrased your question more befitting the answerer, I growled, and I wouldn’t fall in love with someone religious because they don’t exist in the same place as I. What do you mean? she asked, My daughter fell in love with her husband who just happened to be in the same place at the same time? I don’t mean an actual place. I explained. I mean I dont exist-EXIST in the same place as them!!!!!!!!!!! My parents put their heads down in shame. Are you embarrassed? I screamed. If you haven’t accepted it by now,you better look into some kind of support groups or whatever kinds of things you people go to in such situations!!!!!

The rest of the week was very relaxing and rainy so I amused some of my friends with little discussions about the history of my fetish and sexual experiences. I told them about my older cousin who used to lie his legs over my 3 year old body, trapping me there, laughing at me and then releasing me. I remembered liking it so I would put my hands on my hips and baited I bet you can’t do that again!!! I teased and we played this game all day long. I told them about my childhood friend who at the age of five would play Mad Scientist with me. Of course he was the mad scientist and he used to attach electronic games to my body with masking tape and turn me into his robot slave. 11 years later he was arrested for kidnapping little children in the park and burning Satanic markings into their chests with cigarettes. He was later sent to a Sanitarium. I told them about my first lover, an abuser of steroids who had a nervous breakdown followed by bar fight that left his face fractured and left eye blinded, followed by a stroke at the age of 26, followed by a loss of 90 percent of his testosterone and his body’s ability to produce testosterone normally, followed by more drug abuse and three suicide attempts. He was also later sent to a Sanitarium. I told them about the first man who fucked me in the ass. I was out of the closet for only 4 months and being a child of the 80’s, I was completely paranoid about contracting HIV. This man who was a Psychiatrist ensured me that he would be patient and safe with me. He took me to his apartment. I placed the condom on his dick and when he put it in, It felt like a knife was carving up my insides but being the curious type and a sadomasochist I let him continue. When he pulled out and came, I noticed he wasn’t wearing the condom. Where’s the condom? I asked. Oh it was bothering me, he said. so I took it off when I started to fuck you again. I was completlely horrified. I can’t believe you'd do that, I don’t want to catch anything! Please stop freaking out. he said. I am a doctor, I took an oath. I am completely safe and clean. I would never put your life in jeopardy. We’ve had such a good night. Now don’t let this thing spoil your evening. Now let’s not let your little paranoia spoil your evening. You’re right. I said. I’m sorry, we have made quite a connection and I so want your cock inside me again. He ran a bath for us and he sat in the tub. I sat between his legs. I really can’t wait to have you inside me again. I repeated as I stroked his cock under the warm soapy water. I then dug my nails into his scrotum, wrenched and twisted his dick in my fist, elbowed his face with my right arm and then grabbed his neck, bashed his head and face into the ceramic tiles until blood ran down the wall and into the bath water. His half concious bludgeoned body in the bath water, I jumped out grabbed my clothes and before I left the apartment I turned to him and screamed: Now don’t let this spoil your evening!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The even sicker part was that he attempted to pick me up again at a bar 3 weeks later. I’m so sorry about how things turned out he said, Can I make it up to you? Get the fuck away from me. I said, or next time I will crack your skull open with a baseball bat!

Despite my walk down Psycho-trick memory lane ( me being the Psycho-trick), I was foaming at the mouth in horniness by the end of my Miami week. I went alone to Twist on Friday night. I hadn’t been to a club in over two years and I couldn’t believe that places this tacky still exist. I caught the eye of the usual geriatric candidates on the dance floor. Basically if they are on Medicare they are completley mesmerized by me. I escaped their clutches and went into another room filled with aggressive go-go boys. Hello, I’m Carlos he said as he flexed his bicep, give me money. I complied and ran my fingers over his abs, balls and ass . I was then surrounded by these 2 hideous drunk guys from Seattle. One said, You don’t have to pay a stripper, you can feel my boyfriend’s six pack for free. Oh yes-how cheap. I snapped. C’mon. the boyfriend said as he lifted his shirt. We specialize in fun and we guarantee pleasure. You will be so glad you met us. Yes. I smiled, I’m already friggin’ thrilled!!! I walked away because I noticed this cute man with a big chest drinking a beer in the corner. He winked at me. I walked to the other side of the bar and he followed me. His name was Enrique. He is originally from Panama but now lives in D.C. working for the Pentagon. He told me he was a former Westpoint cadet. So does that mean you were conditioned to take orders. I said. No he said, I learned how to give them." We went back to his hotel where he teased me with his cock, rubbing his briefs on my lips, raping my mouth, turning me over and running the tip of his head down the crack of my ass and around my hole. He tried to put his dick in me. I really want your cock. I said. but you have to put a rubber on. Oh Papito, the rubbers are in my car, just let me put it in a little. OK papito? just a little. Look, I’ve heard all that before, now go get the rubbers I said. Ok, I’ll be right back, now don’t fall asleep while I’m gone. When he returned he raped my mouth again, put the condom on, lubed me up with his spit and fucked me like a banjee, turning me into the bitch only he knew I could be. He fucked amazingly and I was in ecstacy.When He came to orgasm, he collapsed ontop of me and started to snore and I hadn’t cum yet. I was trapped under this big thing. If someone was to take a picture, you’d see this big boy laying on his stomach and my little stunned face sticking out between his armpit looking completely confused. He didn’t even give me the chance to cum, isn’t that common courtesy? I mean if he wanted to control my cumming to keep me horny, that’s one thing, I’m ready to be fucked again but he fell asleep and he’s snoring. Finally he rolled over in his sleep and I layed there for what seemed like an eternity wondering what to do. I couldn’t sleep, I was still too horny. I didn’t feel like waking him up . I just touched him in his sleep and jerked myself off while sniffing his armpits. I then grabbed my clothes off the floor and got dressed in the bathroom. I woke him before I left and told him I was leaving. No papito, he said don’t go, you said you’d stay all night and we can sleep together. I like to snuggle. What's all this about snuggling?, you just want something to fuck when you wake in the morning. The Sun is about to come up. I said, I had a really good time and I really have to go. Papito, may I have your number in New York, maybe if you’re ever in Washington or if I’m in New York, we can hook up. I felt the acid churn. I remembered my lesson from the party about knowing when enough is enough. I really have to go. I repeated, kissed him long and hard and went back to my hotel.

When I arrived back at work I started feeling these sharp pains in my stomach. All the color rushed from my face and everyone said that I looked green. These pains aren’t new and not just due to my chocolate extravagance, I’ve been feeling them for about a year and half, especially when I wake up in the morning, completely bloated, belching large balls of gas that rip through my esophagus. I always have this feeling of my stomach in knots, something laying there. I decided to finally call the doctor. I have neglected to have this problem checked out because I hadn’t insurance and since I’ve had insurance, my doctor wasn’t part of the network plan. I didn’t feel comfortable going somewhere new. Since I had some extra money from working coat check I made an appointment with my physician. The next morning, the doctor’s office had been completely renovated., My God, it’s been a while. the nurse said. What seems to be the trouble.? Hopefully Hypochondria. I answered. The doctor walked in and asked How are you? I’m at the doctor , what do you think.? Yes of course said Dr. Dear. I explained my problem. I told him that it all started when I was abusing crystal. Sometimes I wouldn’t eat for days and when I would take the first bite of food this pain started,. When I stopped doing crystal the pain remained. It sounds like an ulcer. he said or perhaps a parasite. Parasite?! Yes a parasite. he said, Have you been out of the country? Not for some time. I said, I was in Morocco about 3 or 4 years ago. Well you could of picked up something there. said the doctor.. Yes, I said but I didn’t have stomach problems then. Well, what about eating ass? asked Dr. Dear. Sometimes. I said. Well, snapped the doctor, You could of picked something up there too! The doctor told me to roll over for a rectal exam which I admit was quite a pleasant suprise. Now sit down on my finger, he instructed, you know like you were going to... Yes! I said, believe me, I know precisely what to do. So anything else wrong you want to discuss? he asked towards the end of the exam. Well I have been known to burst into tears in the middle of the street. I said. Why is that? he asked. Bipolar disorder. I said. Have you been diagnosed with that? he asked. Sort of. I said. I have all the symptoms, I needed some money last year so I answered one of those ads in the Village Voice for an Obsessive compulsive brain scan. After a four hour interview with the head psychiatrist, he told me that he couldn’t scan my brain for obsessive compulsion because modern medicine isn’t advanced enough to study my brain.” “Why is that?”asked my doctor. “ Because.” I said” there instruments can only scan for one disorder at a time and I exhibit symptoms of a variety of disorders. Dr. Dear laughed, “ and what did he say were those disorders.” I listed,” Obsessive compulsive disorder, social anxiety disorder, bi polar disorder, clinical depression and paranoid schizophrenia.” “ Well” said Dr. Dearest, “ that couldn’t be true then you’d be completely insane. Don’t be so sure! I snapped. Don’t be so sure!!!!! Would you like me to refer you to someone? Therapists are nothing more then social workers. I said, And they lack the knowledge of the physical aspects of the body and brain, Psychiatrists just want to prescribe drugs like antidepressants and that’s it. I was once on antidepressants, I stopped because I felt I lost my creativity and my range of emotions. Besides, I can’t begin to tell someone my story, if any one is going to make money off my story, its going to be me-I saw Sybil with Sally Field! That doctor cleaned up!-sorry I’m getting ahead of myself.” “It’s o.k. said the doctor,”here is a card of a friend of mine, he may be able to help you., now I’m going to send Diane in to draw blood, “ Diane came in and started to take my blood, puting me at ease by telling amusing little stories about frantic paranoid people flooding their office believing they have Anthrax. She also handed me stool test kit which I was suppose to drop off last week. The doctor called my home this morning, Michael, you still haven’t dropped off your stool test. I know, I just cant remember to go outside the toilet bowl especially without some big daddy pulling me by my leash. Michael! he scolded when are you going to take things seriously? Doctor, I have an ulcer and I’m insane, I think I take things a little too seriously.

2002 march till may

It's all here

my whole acount on Pim's last months
and so much more
if you got the time
read on . . .