John Mayer: The New Generation of Masturbator


     I have a big, throbbing hard-on for John Mayer.  I have all of his albums.  I know all of his songs.  I hang on his every word.  I love him because he pulls off a rare triad: Goofy-Douche-Sexy.  So imagine my excitement when I saw this month's issue of Rolling Stone with my crush topless on the cover.  
     Reading the article, I came across a quote from him that turned me on a little bit.  Could it be that my guitar god is also an intelsexual?  My admiration may have elevated to terror-alert-level "orange"!

"I am the new generation of masturbator"
"Does this new generation of masturbator masturbate everyday?"
"I don't like that question, because it seeks to make me sound strange if I say 'yes', but of course I do.  I mean, I have masturbated myself out of serious problems in my life.  The phone doesn't pick up because I'm masturbating.  And I have excused myself at the oddest time so as to not make mistakes.  If Tiger Woods only knew when to jerk off.  It has a true market value, like gold bullion.  First of all, I don't jerk off because I'm horny...I do it because I want to take a brain bath." 
     A brain bath?  I never thought of it that way!  There is a refractory period that occurs after a sexual climax.  In that period, everything becomes pure logic.  It makes perfect sense to rub one out before signing contracts, making business deals or accepting that marriage proposal.  With sex out of the equation, its much easier to focus on the facts.
     I think I'll conduct an experiment.  I'm going to masturbate right before going to work and see if it benefits my performance.  Would I be more organized?  How would it affect my people skills?  My mathematic ability?  If I took a little "brain bath" before work, would I still be interested in working?  Let's see.

Text, Sex & Brainstorming



     I don't know what's slower; my reply or my M.P.H.  It occurred to me why legislation decided to make texting while driving an illegal practice; it turns your grammar into shit.  Stopping at a red light, I text to my friend, "I have a bad case of writer's block."
     The sky's a ticking time bomb and I need to get in and out of the laundromat before the storm hits.  Trying to remember whether the 24 hour wash was on Broadway or Franklin, bells and whistles goes off from my lap.  Carefully checking my phone, I read his message, "R U genuinely out of ideas or R U stuck thinking of ways 2 make your non-sexual thoughts erotic 4 your blog?"  What an asshole!
     It's quite challenging, pressing my key pad in a sequence of words and numbers while keeping my eyes on the road.  Suddenly, I hear a car horn blare from behind me as the Honda Accord swerves around my black Mustang.  Deep down, I worry if everyone thinks this way, "That's what U think of my creative process? LMAO!"  Between the lengthening time of my latest blog and a very important deadline approaching, I think I have a spot of performance anxiety.  My creative assembly is down for repairs.
     Quickly, he texts, "Relax.  Whip your cock out, go knuckle deep into your bum & don't stop until UR brilliant again."  Instanly, my very visual imagination began to project what it'll look like to see him masturbate.  He has a hot little body and a nice tool to match.  Making a mental note, I add, "Watch-him-masturbate-while-dressed" to my 'when we meet' list.  Sure, it'll take some Grey Goose and convincing, but I think he'll be up for it.
     Replying at the speed of molasses, I fumble with my phone, "It's hard enough 2 text N drive...I'll crash! LOL"
     "Stop being a pussy and pull that big, black dick out! LMGAO!"
     Conversing with him, I was feeling more clever, "My 1st car WAS a stick shift!"  He always says the weird shit I need to hear to stoke my creativity.  That's why writers need to stick together.
    By the grace of God, I made it to the laundromat in one piece.  Mulling over a few things in my mind, every idea was so mediocre.  Stuffing my comforter and sheets into the machine, his ringtone goes off in my pocket, "WELL?
     Confused, I text, "???"
     "Did U whip it out?"
     "LOL I'm in the laundromat now."
     I could almost here his voice scream as I read, "That's Hot!"  Instantly my head began to fill with crazy images...Bums looking aghast...The two middle-aged hookers whispering to each other and giggling...The twelve-year-old girl crying as her father yells, "Somebody do something!"  I never masturbated with  laundry detergent before, I wonder if it burns?  I'm sure it does.  "LOL I'm such an instigator.  Now do it."
    "I only jerk off in front of attractive audiences"
    "LIAR! I read UR blog!"
    "Just my luck, I'd bust right as the police haul me outta here...wait a minute...That IS kinda hot! LMAO!"
     All night, via text, we entertained ourselves with crazy, rhetorical foolishness.  He became Gay Hitler, supreme dictator of his naked mandingo army.  I read his latest post and imagined being a millionare master with sexual bondservants.  If anyone ever comes down with a case of writer's block, give Cogent Ascending a call!  (Warning: you may experience accidental public masturbation and pesky car accidents.)

Does Everything Have to be About Sex?



"Like allergies, sexual arousal may occur from anything under the sun, including the sun."

Anil Aggrawal (2009)

What other platform...

     What other channel gathers all things of the world, imbuing its participants?  Where else does bliss, agony, sweat, luxury, God and shit roll into one beautiful package?  You can't eat the stars above, but you can make love to them.  You can't find shelter in sound, but you can penetrate and dig deep into a song.  What other atmosphere can "a little death" begat a little life?  Sex stitches this scattered world together into a symphony.

Peering deeply into love, lust and life...


     Your reflection bounces back; your identity, fears and aspirations rise to the surface of your sexuality.  If you look close enough, the way you give head is the way you do everything.  Are you hesitant at first?  Throw caution to the wind?  Are you performing for your partners' pleasure?  Or merely fulfilling a selfish fixation?  Let me guess...you're a cute combination of all of the above.  That's why you're beautiful.  That's why sex is beautiful.


     Where else is it so much fun...

     To press a square peg into a round hole...forcing it to fit...
     To role play, where I'm a 6' 4" baby and you're a shortened God...
     To play dress-up while naked, pretending to be who I really am...
  
     What other platform puts the entire world in my toy chest?

     Only sex.


Hang-Up #3: Ill-written Ads



      I recently had a discussion with the illustrious Toddy English about hooking up on the internet.  Boasting about the great luck we've been having, we began to break down the deciding factors involved when selecting a candidate.  On-line, the pictures always reek of anonymity.  There's hundreds of abbreviations and acronyms, of which I barely understand.  Other than the stats, freaky-beautiful-endowed, what inspires us to click the 'reply' button?
     The very top of our list is being a good writer; a personally written paragraph is the perfect place to paint a portrait.  Not necessarily the vocabulary.  Primarily, I look for well-organized thoughts.  Intense, in-depth descriptions help.  ALSO, I AM INSTANTLY TURNED OFF BY ADS WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS LIKE THIS.  If I've clicked on your profile or ad, there's no need to get my attention because you already have it. 
     My school of thought: If you can't order your words, how can I trust your mouth with this precious cargo?  If its hard for you to get your intentions across, how much harder would it be to make good on your misspelled promises?  If you can't take the time to clearly write one paragraph, what else are you going to rush through?  If I answer your ad, what would that tell you about me for responding?

Here's an honest-to-God, unabridged Craig's List Ad:

HARD THICK 9 READY TO PLZ YOUR AZZ AND THOAT


IF U ARE SMOOTH AND BT LET ME KNOW SEND ME U INF AND PIC AND I WILL DRIVE TO U NO PIC NO RESPONT

    

Partialism: Musicians' Sexy-Ugly O-Faces

John Mayer


He's in zone

Certain chords just make him....mmmm
His face scrunches up, I bet his toes curl
He is in pain because it sounds so good


Orgasmic Grooves
Beautiful Agony
As if his instrument is an extension his sex organ


I'm aroused just watching you peform
Even the made expressions from sex pale in comparison
Eyes shut tight...
Mouth twisted and frowned
Your head sways wildly
I can only imagine the intensity


Keith Jarrett - Jazz Pianist
Carlos Santana

Gokkun: Ejaculate or Elixer?



     Saturday night, I found myself laying naked on the king sized bed of a fully-dressed stranger.  Massaging my body for the second hour straight, his soft, skillful hands weaved the illusion that my skin was immaculate.  The way his hungry mouth feasted on my feet and toes made me moan aloud.  I'll travel far for this feeling.

Celebrated.
Praised.
Devoured.
I was Thanksgiving dinner.

     Kissing and sucking on every last morsel of my body, my arousal was primed.  His organized pattern of touch paired with his chaotic fits of passion gave my nervous system much to talk about.  I felt hypnotized.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't stop whimpering.  I couldn't stop shaking.  The way he would slam his face and tongue into my opened ass...I just hope the neighbors weren't light sleepers.
     I pulled at his tightly fastened belt, "When are you going to join me?"  Sweetly swatting my hand away, he returned to his haven between my thighs.  Spreading my legs apart, he began to bob and swirl his head as he inhaled my dick to completion.  Opening his jaws wide, I could feel the muscles in his throat grip the tip.  Messy, the way I like it, he pulled his mouth off letting his drool rain heavy.  Gripping my dick at the base, he began to smear our concoction all over his face.  He was consumed. Completely entranced.
     In the brief moment his mouth was free to speak, he said, "It's all about you and your pleasure.  I'm just glad to make you feel good."  Pumping his fist up and down, he started to forcefully suck at just the head.  My hips started to move.  I began to feel that tension.  Filling my loins, I felt the energy building.  Grunting, my seven-day load shot into his mouth, down his neck and onto my thigh.  He wouldn't stop sucking.  I couldn't stop grunting.

Hungrily, he lapped up every drop from my thigh
He used his fingers to greedily consume his pearl necklace 
Barely breathing, he gulped down my seed
I suppose he likes his milk fresh

     Normally the climax marks the end of the night, but his undressing proved it just the beginning, "Enjoy that strong erection while you still can, young man.  Once you get older..."  Taking off his pants, I got a chance to finally see his cock; it was a nice size but it was flaccid.  "I just get so frustrated," wrapping his hand around my still erect penis, "I have to pay fifteen dollars a pill to get this!"  Sucking my dick again, he managed to make me come again after a short while.  In a similar fashion, he gobbled up every drop.
     I came a total of four times that night.  He wasn't interested in any reciprocation.  He just wanted to give me pleasure.  For hours on end, he rotated from full body massages to body worship to oral. Milked completely dry...
     I felt so drained driving home.  Starting to think about his erectile dysfunction; I wondered if he was consuming me to regain some of his virility.  After all, you are what you eat.  Jumping on my computer, I found some interesting facts...

Semen is primarily composed of water, but has been shown to contain trace amounts of virtually every nutrient.  It has somewhat higher amounts of commonly deficient minerals such as potassium, magnesium and selenium...Hence the food energy found in the typical ejaculation...
In some cultures, semen is attributed with special properties of masculinity. Several tribes of Papua New Guinea, including the Sambia and the Etoro, believe that semen provides sexual maturation among the younger men of their tribe. To them, sperm possesses the manly nature of the tribal elders. In order to pass down their authority and powers, younger men of their next generation must fellate their elders and ingest their semen. This fellatio and seminophagia custom commences among prepubescent males and post-pubescents.

Should we all swallow?

Hang Up #2: Homogeneity





     Talking to a friend of mine, also a fellow blogger, we began to discuss the preferences and perspectives of our work.  Being writers, we often have to take our audience into consideration.  On the issue of race, it came up how I never hook up with black men.  While feeling that I am making myself equally available, my friend had a different take. 
     Wording his next statement carefully, "I think most black people perceive you to be...too white acting.  You might be black on the outside with a dick to match, but, even to me, you can come off...umm...'white boyish'."
     In a rare moment, I was shocked, "Are you serious?"
     He elaborates, "Well, you're up there in San Francisco, with those white men...It's understandable."

     If an African-American man doesn't act in the typically black fashion; does that make him white or something else?  I believe there are far more than two influences to draw from.  Between black and white, there is a great deal of gray matter.  I long to be what never was.  I'm beyond being Anglophobic or a (sub)urbanite...I'm xenocentric.

It's a shame there are still conversations like this in 2010.

     For the record: I am the first of my kind.  I come from a culture so freshly spawned there hasn't been a name created yet.  When a label's created, I will have it tattooed to my ass.  Musical assignments and dress codes are TBD.  I may sound a bit haughty, but shouldn't this be true for every individual?  Shouldn't each person design their own identity?

It's sickening that everyone wants to be so homogenized.

Black freedom isn't as oxymoronic as it sounds...
     






The above art is from the collection of artist Francoise Nielly
The eyes are a beautiful reflection of life
Her broad strokes of neon over black features
It speaks to me for obvious reasons :



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