The Curiosity is Killing Me (Part II)

Yang Shi by Luis Carlos Aguayo

Conversations w/ Sasha Marini (Part I)

Forbidden Light: Oh my..... You had a fever...

Sasha Marini: What do you mean?

F.L: You look as though you were unfurling...pre-orgasmic...clinching.

S.M: You will see in the finale.

F.L: I can't wait to see it.  I've always wondered this, do you have any experience with BDSM or are you playing a role?

S.M: It was a role, but, keep in your mind this is a behind-the-scenes video. Everything is real.

F.L: Well, it's very, very sexy; you seem entranced.

S.M: I can't tell you if I'm sexy on that video; I was working on my purpose.

F.L: I cant believe you're unsure about whether you're sexy; you're giving off a lot of heat.

S.M: I don't think to be sexy or I don't try to look sexy. I'm just me as I am in real life.  That's all.

F.L: So this isn't a role, after all.

F.L: This is one of my favorite images of you. (Posted above) Where were you here?

S.M: I love that picture, this image is so full of meanings. I was in Paris, shooting in Alberto Rugolotto's studio.

F.L: You exude Christ to me, very sacrificial...selfless...exhausted.

S.M: I'm so tired man, not only my body, but something in my deep.

F.L: In your "deep", I love that!

S.M: My life wasn't so easy and even my career is very difficult, maybe that's why I'm like that.

F.L: You really are real; you aren't playing a role at all, this is how you feel.

S.M: I just wanna follow my mood and feelings that's all.  I don't know, man, how it will be and where I'm going.

F.L:  Well, where ever you're going...its beautiful

Part II

Conversations w/ Sasha Marini (Introduction)

Model < Man

Interview < Conversation

Crush < Connection

     Wearing a saddle with lace panties.  Crucified on a tree as a sexy understudy of Christ.  You can find this man's image all over your favorite blogs.  Sasha Marini, the central figure to Albert Rugolotto's highly influential spread "Decadence", has been a long time fixation of mine.  Thanks to him, my recent fantasies all require a stylist.

     Sasha is surprising in many ways.  I found all my assumptions regarding models horribly wrong.  In our conversations, I was astonished to find that he is a man just like me.  Plagued with insecurities.  Uncertain about his contribution to the world.  Searching for himself.  He fails to see his beauty...the same way we do.

     I find him beautiful in a much different way than before.  Getting to know him has added another dimension to his work.  I, now, wonder where is inspiration comes from as he screams while wrapped in tape.  I wonder what thoughts pervade his mind as he wearily drapes himself across his own lap.  I wonder if I have the same motivations when I'm locked in my fetish gear.

It is my pleasure and honor to present to you a slice of my conversations w/ Sasha Marini!

 

The Curiosity is Killing Me (Part I)

     I've been watching you for a long time.

Intrigued by the way you take your garbage to the dumpster...

I savor the way you order from the menu.

I ruin my posture to stare at your sandals.

Although I live amongst you,

I feel as though we live world apart.
I can't ignore that a large part of you is hidden...

There's a mystery in your masculinity.

A secret that everyone seems to know...but me.

I must know for myself.

I want you truthful.

I want you naked.

I want you open.

I want you now.

.

"A Kiss to Yves" by Rafa Borges

Autonepiophilia: An Aborted Entry

     August 2010 was a weird month for me.  Mercury rolled into retrograde.  Murphy's Law was in full effect.  My cell phone damn near exploded in my hand.  As a result, I decided to stand back and sit outside of the chaos; staying at bay until it was safe to resume my life.
     Waiting until the cosmic smoke cleared, my mind started to function in an odd fashion.  For some reason, I began to process old, outdated emotions.  I got angry at things that happened years ago.  I whined about being misunderstood in elementary school.  I tried to slap a bitch I met in college.  I realized I was incredibly backed up, constipated, if you will.  I had volumes of emotional shit crammed deep into the hidden colon of my mind...And without my permission my subconscious started to do some cleansing!
      As a means to manage these chaotic feelings flowing from me, I attempted to write.  Since I was born without tear ducts, I needed an outlet for this cry baby throwing fits inside of me.  I needed a receptacle to air my expired grievances.  So I jumped on my laptop and let my Mama have it!

"I could've been Miles Davis,

If you would've let me practice indoors."

"I could've been a published author,

I you would've read my childhood novels.

Instead you encouraged me to keep my writing to one page."

"I could've been..."

"I could've had..."

"I could've lived..."

     This was news to me.  I didn't know I had so much resentment towards my mother.  Before then, I thought she did a banged up job of raising three sons on her own; turns out she sucked...Or at least my inner child thought so.  In the days to come, he also open fired on my father, ex-girlfriend and previous employer.  At the lethal force propelling each shot: "I could've been so much more."

     Before clicking the 'publish' button; the truth dragged me back to reality.  Not discounting my feelings or personal history, the entry sounded...obituary.  As if my potential was spoiled, my proposed destiny was irretrievable.  I may be much older than the infant screaming from within, but I'm not dead yet!

I can still be Miles Davis

Thanks to my mother's restrictions, I will play much louder!

I can still be a published author

I've had much time to develop and perfect my craft.

I can be...

I can be...

I will be...still.

     I do feel much better, now that it's all out of my system.  I've been operating much smoother without the accumulated frustration of what "could've been".  I will make more of an effort to experience my emotions, instead of storing it away to fester.  September feels more harmonious already.

   

     The art posted above is from Alberto Rugolotto's "Decadence" and "Metamorphosis" featuring my muse and friend, Sasha Marini.  Rugolotto's work is so poignant because of his commitment to his expressive concepts.  Marini's role in his vision is less of a model and more of an instrument; casting his beauty aside, Sasha channels the deeper, more agonizing tone of Decadence. 

     Keep an eye out for an upcoming interview with Sasha; you'd be surprised to hear what he thinks of the fashion industry, modeling and himself.  He is an interesting departure from vainglory.   

Melolagnia: There's No Sadist Like Time...

Ascent

     You prefer everything slow.  Your briefs slide down your hips like molasses.  Your shirt creeps up your torso like the sunrise over the horizon.  The fabric slipping across your skin makes you hiss and suck your teeth.  Using your sleeves to bind your wrists, I softly bark in your ear, "Keep your hands up."
     As if you really know the answer, you arms remained stretched toward the ceiling.  My kisses crawl down your arms...your armpits...your sensitive sides.  My strong grip squeezes your ass...muscles in your back...your sensitive nipples.
     Your underwear never makes it past your knees.  Crouching before you, I smile at the erection now twitching towards my chin.  If only it had a voice of its own.  Running my hands from your shaking knees, up your thighs to your warm waist, I stand to my feet.  A small whimper escapes your lips; our cocks butting heads is the only time it has been touched.  Poor baby.

Are you reconsidering your preference?

As my lips remain closed at the tip of your cock?

 There's no sadist like time...

Patience can spoil from virtue to sin...

Are you sure, you like things slow?

I have all day...

   

Lygerastia: Sleeping Masterpiece

     I'm nocturnal by nature.  There is something about the night that awakens me on a very basic level.  I get most of my writing done at night.  I clean up around the house and do laundry at night.  I even hit the gym at night; which is awesome because it is mostly vacant.
     I know what everyone's thinking, "Here we go, again! Cue the hot, late night romp: lights, camera, action!"  But, I prefer the gym empty.  I don't have to wait for any equipment.  I have all the space I need to do my super-sets.  I don't have to travel through the herd of congregating gym rats.  (Well, I do miss that part.)
     This week, after a pretty good work out, I was sitting in the jacuzzi listening to Christian Scott's latest album.  Staring of into space listening to his muted trumpet, I noticed something stirring in the sauna across the room.  Putting my glasses on, I was pleased to find a muscular man sleeping in the sauna.  Most of him remained a mystery within the shadows of the sauna, but the luster of his sweating, golden skin shined from the darkness.
     Watching him wrestle to find a comfortable angle, the muscles in his shoulders and back flexed and twitched.  His resting body put me in a daze.  I felt as if I stepped into an art exhibit and this was the artist's sleeping masterpiece.  He was suspended in selective exposure; which gave me the room to dream.  My eyes stayed fixed on him, waiting for him to turn over or reveal another angle.  His heel reaching out into the light gave my an eerie joy.  Later, I learned his calves were equally gorgeous.
     "Yesterday You Said Tomorrow" was on it's third rotation and my skin resembled prunes.  Jumping from the jacuzzi, I have hoped to have my clothes on before the elderly rush at 5 a.m.  I'd hate to attract any attention to this painfully hard erection swinging before me.  Does this count as morning wood?

Genaro Ocasio by Nikki Rotunda