Posted by Lex Konrad in Dispatches | Dec 29, 2005
Maybe it’s just the shit I read and watch this time of year but everyone seems to be in such a lousy mood. Some bloggers sound like they wanna slit their wrists, the newspeople run endless Tsunami/Hurricane retrospectives, pundits argue over the “war” on Christmas—and then of course we gotta worry about peak oil and the declining real estate market and the retreating stock market and the bullshit war and the confederacy of dunces who run this country. Phew. That it?
Hey, I empathize. I was grumpy this time last year too, but then I discovered Scientology my Theory of Everything and, well, 2005 didn’t turn out so bad. No more casting pearls before swine for me—I’m just trying to make things right in my little corner of the universe. So, if I may, I’d like to inject just a wee note of optimism amid all the doom and gloom.
As I write this my once-girlfriend now-fiancee admires the shiny ring on her finger, a fittingly symbolic pearl ring at that. (“Don’t even talk to me about diamonds,” I told the befuddled jeweler a few weeks ago. “The De Beers cartel can kiss my ass.”) Yeah, after like fourteen years we’re finally engaged; at this rate our grandchildren will be finishing college by the time we’re married. Just kidding, dear.
Christmas (Holidaymas, whatever) was good. My mom’s hair may be falling out but she’s got her cancer on the ropes. I spent much of my time setting up my father’s new electronic gadgets while I sipped egg nog and Les sat on the couch cooing over my baby pictures. A fancy new digital SLR camera will, I hope, arrive via UPS today—after our New Year’s trip I’ll be sure to geek out about it on NLP.
And speaking of Naked Loft Party, though I may have been burned out on the site at the beginning of the year things are on the up and up around here these days. The book came out in February, traffic is (for whatever reason) growing to levels that make my palms sweat a little and the beer money I used to make off ads has grown into a sizable income—enough that I’m considering doing this stuff full time. I’m looking forward to meeting a bunch of sexy bloggers soon and I have a few big projects lined up for ‘06. It’s all my little way of telling The Man to shove those TPS reports up his ass.
In thirty hours or so Les and I will hop a plane to Seattle and spend a few days with our favorite bitches dear friends Jen and Nikki. They’ve got all kinds of crazy shit planned and I honestly can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
So fuck it. I’m feeling good right now and I’m gonna run with it. Here’s a sloppy toast to 2006 and all tomorrow’s (naked) parties.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Snaps | Dec 22, 2005
Artiste of the slightly funny deal
Fan service (Japanese simply “saabisu”, “service”), sometimes written as a single word, fanservice, is a vaguely defined term used in visual media—particularly in anime fandom—to refer to elements in a story that are superfluous to a storyline, but designed to amuse or excite the audience.
Source: Wikipedia
That is all.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Dispatches | Dec 20, 2005
I find it hard to summon much outrage over the transit strike but neither does the union elicit much sympathy from me. From what I understand they have a pretty sweet compensation package already and they’re asking for substantial raises over the next few years. At any rate, the strike hasn’t affected either of us yet: Les walks to work every day and I work in my slippers (I had toyed around with the idea of renting a spare cubicle downtown—strictly to pick up office babes at the water cooler of course—and now I’m glad I didn’t). I just hope things get ironed out.
Nonetheless, today I need your help and your cash. No, not for me personally—I put up ads to avoid panhandling over the internet. There are other people who really need the money. You see, every Thursday, right down the street from my cheery Central Park abode, the local food pantry distributes necessities to people in the neighborhood. Some of these folks scrape by on minimum wage; some are disabled; some are elderly; many rely on this support to feed their families. This time last year the line of people with their little laundry carts snaked half-way down the block. This year the line stretches all the way down the block and doubles up on itself. Wages are stagnant. Heating costs are up. Rents, as ever, are up. As I strolled by last week with my three dollar cup of coffee, walking in the street to avoid the crush of people, I said to myself this is bullshit.
If New York is a city of unbelievable wealth, it’s also a city of mind-boggling wage disparity, where one in five people lives below the poverty line. The transit workers may have their moments in the spotlight but the urban poor carry on at a fraction of the average transit worker’s wages. They are the untouchables. They are invisible here—you won’t find much coverage in the local press, nor in the local blogs. Poor folks don’t drop a thousand dollars a night in the VIP rooms of clubs like Marquee or Bungalow 8. Unlike the young, pasty-white hipsters in Williamsburg, the poor aren’t doing it for the indie cred. That so many people struggle in isolation reflects poorly on our city and our so-called civilization as a whole. Even the plebs of Roman times had their free bread.
The dead tree version of the Times used to run these little interstitials to fill out their column-inches. Remember the neediest, they might have read. Well, that’s bullshit. How about doing something for a change? So I started a virtual food drive at the New York Food Bank. Feel free to give as much or as little as you want, but please do give something (I already put in some cash but like a dumbass I didn’t link it to the team totals). If you give now it’s almost immediately tax deductible and you’ll be helping one of the many charities whose fund-raising efforts have suffered as a result of all the natural disasters this year. Judging by the amount some of you spend on porn, I know you citizens of internetland are good for it.
A link in the sidebar will be up soon.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Dec 19, 2005
It’s getting late and the song’s playing and I’m goofing around doing the Napoleon Dynamite dance for my audience of two. Neither seems particularly impressed. Natalia forces a smirk. Leslie sips at the sudsy remnants of her cocktail.
“Whatever,” I say. “Clearly these mad moves are wasted on you two. Okay so let’s go to dinner, like, now.” I thrust my hips for emphasis. I have a lot of manic energy for someone who doesn’t do cocaine.
“But I just called my delivery service,” Natalia sez.
“So how long will that take?” asks Les.
“Bout an hour.”
I snicker. “Is there a money-back guarantee? Anyway, we’ve got plenty of time—let’s giddyap!”
Natalia’s still in a fragile state over the breakup. As we tuck into our entrees at Native, a half-way decent soul food restaurant, she gazes at us imploringly: “Do you think I’m attractive?”
I immediately swallow the half-chewed contents of my mouth (man, I love steak frites) and take a swig of my gin, waiting for the punch line. It never comes. “You serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Girl, you crazy. I’m not even gonna dignify this line of questioning with a proper response. You know you’re hot.” I’m thinking back to last year’s Halloween party when she dressed as Beyonce. Damn. I hadn’t counted on anything happening tonight—it’s been a year, after all—but now I’m wondering…
The courier’s this skinny white kid with a curly fro. Doesn’t look a day over twenty. He waits for us outside the apartment, a skateboard slung under his arm. We invite him inside and while Natalia’s scrounging through her purse he’s letting me know about, like, the latest advances in hydroponic technology.
Natalia rolls and the three of us smoke and soon I’m standing in front of the kitchen window in a fugue state, gazing across the murky expanse of the park, squinting at the sparkling high rises in the distance and wondering what our neighbors on the other side are up to. When I’m in this frame of mind the city’s terrain seems alien to me, like when you wake up in a strange bed in the middle of the night. Where am I?
A snippet of a song comes to mind. “Found my way upstairs and had a smoke and somebody spoke and I went into a dream…”
“Wha?” Les asks, all slit-eyed and smiling. She and Natalie lie impacted against the sofa.
“Nuthin.” My fugue state continues.
I’m sitting with the girls now, absentmindedly stroking Natalia’s leg. I kiss Leslie and begin to feel a little ticklish, except it soon occurs to me that what I’m really feeling is arousal, so my fingers begin to trace the outline of her breasts. Les gets up and I take her hand and lead her into the bedroom, leaving Natalia languishing on the couch in her mellow haze. I’m thick and hard between my girlfriend’s thighs, standing at the edge of the mattress as she lies splayed upon it. We’re both gasping. After a little while I remember our guest and turn my head. Natalia’s watching us from the living room, smiling. When she enters the bedroom we uncouple, Les settling in her office chair with a cigarette, Natalia removing her top and collapsing into my chair. I make an innocent remark about Natalia’s jeans and she promptly removes those too.
She wants something. I’m inclined to give it to her.
Somehow I end up ping-ponging between the girls: walking up to one, sticking my cock in her mouth, and then doing the same with the other one. I marvel at the softness of their lips, the silky movements of their tongues, the deftness of their practiced hands. As I prop myself above Natalia, inching into her as Leslie watches and grabs my ass, I realize that perhaps I have been angling for this all night. Our guest moans when I flip her over and make my reentry from behind. I know she’s close. She bucks against me and I grab both women for support and I kiss my girlfriend deeply and my eyes close and my back arches. Another fugue state washes over me, this time pure adrenaline and ecstasy. Bright spots appear against the black canvas of my eyelids. Natalia cries out and my dam finally breaks—her taut brown ass wiggles, her insides contract rhythmically and I slow my thrusts, riding the rushing waters downward until I’m nearly soft.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Meta | Dec 17, 2005
I’ve always been a bit of a curmudgeon when it comes to blogging memes and so on, but lately I’ve enrolled in a twelve-step program to become a better e-citizen. In this spirit I present the Bloggasm, a weekly roundup of the best posts chosen by the bloggers who wrote them. It’s already turned me on (ahem) to many sex blogs I’d missed while I was busy shaking my fist at the e-kids these days.
