Skip navigation

photo 1 photo 2 photo 3

I try to do figure drawing every once in a while to knock the rust off. I just found a group that meets every Wednesday night to draw from a model. I enjoyed my first session very much…

The problem is, I forget I’m gay. I actually forget everything but getting the anatomy right and trying to draw a nice figure. The person stops being a human and becomes an object. A beautiful object I’m trying to draw correctly.

This problem becomes evident when the “object” I’m trying to draw starts talking to me…naked. At that point I become very flustered and think, “Oh my God…she’s going to know I’ve been looking at her intently for 2 hours and she knows I’m gay and she’s going to think I’m a pervert.” I try to remain calm and impassive.

The object says things like, “when do you think the weather is going to warm up” and “I love your shoes”…very benign things like that and I start to sweat. Last week it got so bad that I took off my turtleneck sweater and changed into a short sleeve shirt I had worn to the gym earlier that day. The object said, “yeah…it is nice and warm in here isn’t it”. I then try to ease into the conversation and begin to talk back, but my right brain keeps screaming “you’re talking to a naked woman” while my left brain yells “concentrate on drawing the biceps attachment to the forearm”. Last week I finally got both sides of my brain under control when one of the guys drawing said, “hey…would you mind taping the model?”

You tape a model by tracing with masking tape around the naked person while they are in a pose so that they can take a break and come back to the same position. It usually falls on a woman to do this if the model is a woman, because you obviously have to get really close. Sometimes you even have to tape the inside of a thigh…

“Sure” I said and moved toward the naked object. I’m blushing and sweating. I just can’t help it. I want to play it cool and act like I’m all professional, but I just can’t get the idea that this woman knows a lesbian has been looking at her, drawing her and know is going to tape her inner thigh.

I literally have both my hands in between her legs with the tape when she says, “You smell great, “what’s that you’re wearing?” This has happened before…I wear Calvin Klein’s Obsession ( I know…80s) and even when I sweat, people say I smell good. It’s for that very reason I haven’t changed it since the 80s…I like the compliment…but I did not see it coming while I had my hands between this woman’s thighs.

With a droplet of sweat on the end of my nose, I smile and say, “Calvin Klein Obsession”, and go back to work taping and praying that she will stop talking. “Wow. I really works for you.” No chance…she’s chatting constantly with me now. I give in at that moment and think that if she indeed knows I’m gay she really doesn’t care. It’s very freeing and we spend the last hour chatting about music and that her boyfriend is in a band. I am gay and I am drawing a naked woman. At the end of the session she dons a robe and comes over to my easel and looks at my work. “Nice! She exclaims, and goes to the bathroom to get dressed.

This feeling of peacefulness is only slightly marred when I find out that next weeks model is a “pole dancing teacher”. I have been thinking for a week how you get to be a pole dancing teacher, and am coming up with interesting ideas. Today is in fact Wednesday and tonight I will draw the pole dancing teacher. I have a feeling she will talk to me and I have a feeling I will tape a line between her thighs at sometime in the evening. What I don’t know is how you become a “pole dancing teacher” and I guess that will be one of the conversations of the night.


Time Magazine has an article about the 50 Shades of Grey movie. I skimmed through while drinking coffee this morning and only found 2 interesting facts:

1) It’s directed by a woman (Sam Taylor-Johnson).

2) A proper BDSM bedroom has a leather floor and a leather cover over the bed.

I promptly texted the only friend I know who read the book and asked her if it was worth reading. I also asked her if she thought it was actually possible to sit next to a stranger while watching the movie.

Her text back told me there are 3(?!) books I have to read, and with a rating of “R” there is NO WAY they could properly reenact the sex scenes. She said she would drop off the first book soon.

Here’s my problem. I’m not sure that I’m going to make it though all 50 shades of Grey. Will I get bored with all the fluff in between? If it’s such a good portrayal of sex, will I need all 50 shades or will 10 do? Why go through the trouble of reading 3 books about sex when I could probably find better BDSM stuff somewhere else (feel free to tell me what and where in the comments section).

I do have a plan though. I’m going to really try hard to read the first book. If I get through that, I’ll be honest and say that I probably won’t read any of the others. What I might do instead is write 10 Shades of Pink and throw in the gay factor and make it a series of short, gay/lesbian, raunchy films that someone with my good taste and poor attention span can get through.

Wish me luck.

My girlfriend and I have entered the post Christmas/pre Spring marathon of waiting out winter. We do this by catching up on TV series. My girlfriend is giddy over Downton Abbey starting this Sunday–I am not. I have chosen a more interesting series to follow:


Set in the 1950s through the early 1960s, the series explores the research and the relationship between Dr. William Masters (Michael Sheen) and Virginia Johnson (Lizzy Caplan), two pioneering researchers of human sexuality at Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri.

As noted by the Los Angeles Times television critic, the series “hangs on bones of fact”; “it’s more useful for the viewer to think of it as all made up. Because, mostly, it is, and because to the extent it tells the story of two real people, it also adorns the telling with dramatic practicalities, invented characters and narrative detours. Indeed, it’s down these side streets, casting a brief light on a passing character (patients, prostitutes, provost’s wife), that the show finds many of its best moments.”

What that means is that it is good. Very good. You quickly see how Puritinistic most couples are in the 1950s and realize that no one really knows what’s going on…no one except the gays and lesbians. Homosexuality is brought up quickly and just as quickly you see that gays and lesbians are the only individuals that ask questions and know what they want when they have sex.

I won’t spoil it any more…lets just say that halfway through the first season I have discovered that gays and lesbians are indeed the “Masters of Sex.”


I finally got around to watching all 10 hours of Peter Pan Live and I have to admit, I watched it for all the wrong reasons.

When I was little my mother used to read me the Disney book every night. Each time she would finish I’d cry because I wanted to go to Never Never Land. I thought it was because I never wanted to grow up, but as I watched Christopher Walken forget his lines and hobble through the dance routines it dawned on me…


I thought Peter Pan was hot. I voiced this to my girlfriend who woke up and agreed. Peter looked like a cute baby dyke and was very appealing.

20mmPPpic1Screen shot 2014-12-11 at 10.29.20 AM

I did some research and it seems they cast Mary Martin as Peter because the other young actors and actresses needed to be of a certain age and a male Peter would look weird. Sandy Duncan and the rest just followed suite.

Now when I have trouble in this troubling world, I’ll just pull out my old Peter Pan book again and I’ll read it from a different point of view. As far as I’m concerned, Peter will always just be a nickname for a sweet young lesbian who never never wants to grow up…


I recently had a meltdown with my coworker. I say meltdown because all the times I’ve tried to listen to him complain about his job (same as mine) and his salary (same as mine) and his workload (same as mine) and tried to talk sensibly about it just didn’t register with him and I finally said, “Shut the fuck up.” Actually I said it once forcefully and then when he tried to say something I yelled it quite loudly.

Because my office is really a dysfunctional family of 4, my two dads (bosses) yelled “Shut up and get back to work” and then took us to a movie (Interstellar) the next day to “smooth things over”. This is all true. No one considered talking bout the real problems or working together to find a professional answer. I tried talking to my boss about having a meeting about the project and he said sure. He said this 3 months ago and it never happened then either.

Now therapists and life coaches everywhere say there are perfectly reasonable ways to handle this situation and I’ve read through them.

Today posts an excellent article about how to work thru these problems. It exhausted me reading them.

I’ve thought long and hard about the problem.

His values are control and quality.

My values are efficiency and quality.

He wants to micromanage the project to keep control and I want to work towards a more efficient outcome.

Then our boss just says get it done and we go back to our corners and do our own thing. I finish on time and have a quality product. He finishes two weeks later with a quality product then complains that our bosses are “riding” him too hard. I listen (until the other day) and nothing changes.

His real problem is that he just bought a house and just had a kid and is sleeping 2.5 hours a night and feeling the pressure of parenthood, but he hasn’t figured that out yet.

I’m going to redouble my efforts not to scream at him (unprofessional) and stab him (illegal). My plan includes headphones and talking to the office hamster in a soothing voice. If all else fails I have found this website:

Screen shot 2014-11-12 at 12.51.06 PM

Here’s one gem:

Dear Coworker,

After meeting with HR, I’ve been asked to issue an apology for the way I recently spoke to you.

Apparently you took offense to my calling you a “creeping liability” to our company that “will ultimately lead to the demise of our very livelihoods.” And that it was out of line for me to insinuate your DNA might have been compromised when your mother’s egg mistook the glaze of an apple fritter as a viable life-giving fluid. Honestly, the logic of that doesn’t even make sense. (Though it would explain why you always–always–look like you just finished eating a very messy donut.)

Specifically, I’ve been told you took umbrage with my use of the phrases “turd-like,” “butthole-ish,” and “farty brains” to describe your general essence. (By the way, I don’t know why I relied on such similar insults. I clearly had butts on the brain that day.) And though these were all stunningly accurate descriptors, I am willing to strike them from the record.

*But since no mention was made of the similar phrase “ass blob,” I reserve the right to continue inserting it into every conversation we have. Forever.

Also, that picture I drew of you having sex with the copier was probably in poor taste. I understand that no penis could reasonably be shaped just like Hitler and that it’s highly unlikely you’ve ever screamed “SCAN MY DICK PARTS HARD, YOU SLUT MACHINE” during coitus. For this, I sincerely apologize.  I just assumed your typical colloquialisms transferred into the bedroom/copy room. I promise I’ll take the picture down by next month at the latest.

Oh, and though HR never actually mentioned this, I should also apologize for telling that girl in our office you’ve been wanting to ask out that I know, without a doubt, that your peep is shaped like Hitler because you frequently use it to “salute” anyone who enters the restroom after you.

That was just a butthole-ish thing to do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a follow-up meeting with HR to attend. (Heads up: Trent gets pretty bent out of shape when you say that logistic ideas like his “are probably how the Holocaust started.”)

Sincerely (per HR’s demand),
Your coworker


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 187 other followers