I don't think the said comittee is too radical: they know where they came from.
Today the Dutch secret service warned for the dangerous growth of the Salafists, the most radical muslims, in the Netherlands over the past 2 years.
While I still disagree with our ultraright politicians, these radicals, or at least the ones that preach it, its violence, human sacrifice and the way they use funds gathered from muslim believers here to support terrorist action across the world and the fight agains our soldiers in Afghanistan and elsewhere, should not be allowed to remain in our country. This may be directly in conflict with the freedom of religion our constitution defends, but a religion that does not permit freedom to other religions or non-religion cannot claim rights from a constitution they do not recognise.
comment?

In the previous entry I told you I sadly no longer had access to wienerwrangler. Well, he's back, and in the linkiewinkielist.
comment?

For a few years I had given up on the leathercircuit (which I now would rather call the heavy duty queer sex scene). After even Eindhoven's Vagevuur, the most infamous of the Dutch sex venues, had betrayed its original radical values and became a sedated safesex local in an attempt to be politically correct, I'd given up on Holland alltogether and reduced my sex escapades to a few annual visits to Berlin, London, Lyon, Copenhagen, Madrid. Lab-Oratory, Snax, SLM carried on the torch.
still, finally . . .
There is light at the end of the tunnel: some of our new generation party organisers seem to have some clue and seem to be able to mix old revolutionary allure with attracting a new generation . It is sad that since the Pakhuis and LL legends faded a whole generation is wasted. For too long terms like 'safe and sane' have meant boring and a-sexual. The new awakening has to do with the 'poz and proud' feeling. OK, it is not a good idea to go around promoting bareback sex at parties, but there also is (always has been) a community that does look for wild uninhibited sex again. No longer is that completely unacceptable. It is a choice, a need even, still with risks, but despite all the clever strategies of political queens (suckers for subsidies, who have even undertaken the 'hollow' action to 'legalize' darkrooms in A'dam) to keep it undercover, they keep winning ground, like all underground action always will.
People realize that there may be more poz guys amongst those who are most active at parties and they may have adapted their activties accordingly. They may be looking for others to go that bit further with. All this is now in an undercover situation, which gives it an even more aluring attraction. For the first time this season I found a poster for one of the parties that is part of leatherpride with an undeniable bare fuck depicted, and ass munching too, for good measure:


The problem remaining is that now sex parties are once again on the incline (it looks like all 4 nights of the event seem to have a multitude of parties), we have trouble to choose. I know they cannot all be as good, and there is no press to speak of commenting on the quality of the play areas; the facilities offered, the attitudes of the users, so I guess there is a mission laid out for me here. My provisional agenda runs as follows: thursday I'd choose the unofficial Skin meeting at the Web (the Gummi party will be overrun by the shinyrubber fashionqueens, who don't want to stain or tear their outfit, while the industrial rubber pervs will not attend in droves, just yet). Friday I'd opt for the Trash again, unless I'm disappointed on the 13th, then I'd try Empire. Saturday I'd get my ass filled at the Lexion again at Playgrounds, the inca rooms there still form the most fitting space in NL for a huge darkroom, and the team can be trusted to make it spectacular. They must for that price! While sunday, if I did survive, would get me to the Cuckoos Nest and Web in the afternoon to say goodbye.

another day, another month:
And here we are. Him pulling his slacks up. Cupping his hand filled with his cum. I pull my jeans up. Pointing to his hand I go, “What you gonna do with that?” He cups his hand to his mouth and pours. My knees go weak. I’m like, “Marry me.”

A Good Night. On my back, ass hanging over the edge. This black dude [About 6’4”, skinny as a rail, shaved head, nice white teeth] is long-dicking me. Reaching up into my belly. My hands are locked to the side of the bed. Every time he sinks inside I see stars. Not everyday a man reaches this far. After like 5 or 6 more thrusts he groans and cums. Deep. I feel it burst. Then drip.

He slides out and backs up. His dick flopping all over the place. I sit up. Eyes on his cock, “Man that was deep.” “You liked it?” “Your cum’ll probably start seeping out on the train.” He laughs, “That a good thing?” “Depends.” Who am I kidding? I love that shit. I love sucking/fucking used ass and I love my ass being used (It helped that he spent like 30 mins munching my butt) He goes, “Why don’t you stay over.” “You gonna fuck me some more?” He jumps on top of me. Pushing me into the center of the bed. 5 loads: 3 in me (his), 1 on me (mine), and 1 down his throat (also mine). Geek Shit I’m In Lov!

Fuck! what to do? Make a phonecall with the fixed phones to block the SIM card first. I had finished all the coins, but luckily it was possible to use the creditcard. Hey, where's the card? Also gone! how did that happen? I started to panic a bit. Had I been cleverly robbed? Guess not, my money was all there, the boarding pass, the passport, all other cards. Had I left it at the fragrances counter? I ran back there; as the checkin was halfway now. No, nothing found there. Then I remembered I had used the card at the original checkin and baggage-drop. So I ran back through security to the front lobby, where indeed, they had found my card. After thanking the KLM lady I ran up the stairs again, where now I found at least half an hours line to get through the security gates, and no excuse: I had to go through them again! So, as politely as I could, I asked everybody if they would be so kind as to let me pass: "I'd lost my creditcard and my plane was already on last call". Shoes off, shoes on, running again, sweating like an otter, or like those other furry animals that are not on the list of the fragrance composers of Hugo, I arrived back at the gate. Just a handfull of people left to process, which just left me time to ask the attendant if they had found a cellphone. Yes, it was a Nokia, and yes they had it brought to the counter: it was left unattended on on of the couches. PFew! was I reliefed when I fell into the 28F chair heading to Amsterdam.

At the end of that year he did not make his grades so he had to do another year in first grade. Which in turn lead to me not qualifying in the second year, in order to be re-united in the same class. Sadly, the school, his parents or Felix himself decided that this school was not what was right for him so that never happened. I only remember that he did come around to see how I was doing in the village I lived in then one year later. Again I thought this was the moment to come out about my feelings for him, but again I was too weak. To young, I still use as excuse. Still I'm not at all sure he was gay. Still don't.

Today, I saw him on television. He is the most known artist in the Netherlands portraying criminals in court. I've known that for quite a few years. Seen plenty of his drawings in papers, and remember how good he was at drawing back at the art classes of our Meester Kistenmaker back in 1962. But today he was interviewed in a late night talk show, because he's doing the most important crime case our country has seen for ages: the trial of Willem Holleeder, a Dutch maffia leader of the past two decades, who started his carreer by holding Freddy Heineken for ransom for 3 months, and getting away with it, later proceeding to extortion of the major real estate brokers and even lawyers who also got quite a few of them assasinated. Felix is approaching 60 now and grey. I don't think I'm still in love, but he still is an admirable, formidable guy. I guess he set me off on a course to fall for guys who could draw or paint.

Oh fuck, forgot to mention, they also have an Amsterdam legend dj playing: David Hernandez! The memories of Cockring and Warmoes-street-parties still echo in my ears: