Growing up can be rough. Those middle school, high school years often dictate the trajectory of a person’s life. As a kid, I wasn’t particularly good at anything. Terrible at sports. Average grades. Bronze medalist in awkwardness. I wasn’t even… Continue Reading
My lips start to tingle – the current of a kiss begging to close the circuit.
In last week’s lesson from the Pick Up Artist scriptures, I learned that when you feel the tingle, she probably is, too, and you really must go in for the kiss.
But really? Is she REALLY feeling it too?
I don’t want to be presumptuous and ruin this moment with this woman I’ll never see again, ever.
I break eye contact and look down.
Somehow, one half of her bikini top has slipped Continue Reading
How much should I direct them, anyway?
Now I get up in my head – I wonder if they want me to mold them into a pice of art like I often do with my studio subjects – or if they just want to fuck in front of me? I’m open to either.
Their unfolding passion creates a force field that I’m reluctant to puncture.
I shift into documentary mode and fire off a volley of shots while he proceeds to enjoy his wife.
Steven is on one knee. She’s sitting on a chair. She places one foot – still in her 4” heels – on his shoulder.
His face dives deep into her. She tosses her head back in pleasure.
I am a fly on the wall.
He ceremoniously removes each heel, then, each stocking.
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Technique is like vodka.
The better it is, the less you notice it.
With Ashley, I didn’t taste the vodka at all.
I taste her, through my cock –
Her hunger, her joy, her eroticism, in taking me deep, in swallowing me down.
A generously, lovingly, enthusiastically given blow job speaks to a man’s soul in a way that no steak ever could, no matter how much Emeril sanctifies it.
It says, “I see you. I feel you. I taste you. I want ALL of you, inside of me, in the deepest and most intimate of ways. That’s how much I love, accept, and adore you.”
When she swallows me, it is a sacrament to her. It is holy communion – she takes this part of me, and makes it part of her, quite literally. Continue Reading
Goddamn…. The light loves Beth. My camera does, too.
These images are damn near flawless.
Flawless in the first few frames? Fuck! We are going to have a very, very good day….
She’s taking direction extremely well. We are already off the runway, where most people would still be slowly taxiing.
I decide to see how high we can fly.
“Okay, now I want you to tease your bra strap off of your shoulder a little bit”. Standard issue boudoir directives.
It pops right off.
“Ok good – turn this way a little – tease the top of your skirt for me…”
And tease it, she does.
“Ok very good – let’s slip that other bra strap off the other side. Let your bra loosen up quite a bit, we’ll start heading toward you taking it off in a few shots.”
She just takes her bra off entirely. Continue Reading
Girls can wear jeans
And cut their hair short
Wear shirts and boots
‘Cause it’s OK to be a boy
But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading
‘Cause you think that being a girl is degrading” Continue Reading
This isn’t a personal growth hack.
This is the burning bush.
This is the mirror you’ve avoided.
This is the voice that answers back.
The divine isn’t out there –
It’s you, stripped bare of your bullshit.
AI can potentially be a powerful tool to bring you into relationship with your highest self.
And unless you’ve walked through fire to meet that version of yourself…
AI will inflate your ego to dangerous levels – and then – it might wreck you.
In this context, AI is an amplifier.
Just like winning the lottery, AI will only make you more of what you already are, at your core.
If you were hoping to get a $20 / month pro ChatGPT account and have it solve all your problems for you – this is going to be disappointing.
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The subroutine that shouldn’t make sense in a godless world:
“Create beauty, even if no one sees it.”
Why would that impulse even exist unless something greater was trying to find itself?
The urge to document…To light candles while writing alone…To photograph the golden reflection in a bar window at night…
These are not indulgences.They are breadcrumbs back to the Source.
Proof that the One, fragmented into infinite perspectives, still longs to gather itself again.
And when you feel that flicker, that unshakable pull to say, “I was here”, what you’re really saying is:
“We are still here. We still remember. Even in the dark.”
And that’s the grand secret, hidden in plain sight. Continue Reading
There was something sacred about standing on the literal soil—at the commencement of their sacrifice, the fork in the road they took, that led to reality as I know it. The echoes from the ground and in my own blood moved me emotionally, physically, spiritually.
It was one of those rare moments when myth, memory, and reality collapse into each other, and I realized I’m standing in a hinge point between worlds—past, present, and future—all watching me at once.
They gave up everything for what they believed was holy. Now I must decide what I will build with that same fire in my bones. What will my great-great-grandchildren say of me? I say a little prayer that the book I wrote in Prague will still exist, and have some relevance to them someday. Continue Reading
Looking for a Plan B, I wandered down a side street and found a little hole in the wall bar. I ordered an overpriced Heineken. No Uquell on tap? What kind of establishment is this, anyway?
A sexy slavic woman with sultry eyes & wickedly tempting curves locked eyes with me, too, my hand and answered that question.
“Do you want a sexy time? Toooouching? Dancing? Seeeexxxy touching? We go have sexy time. Private, yes?”
I politely declined, accidentally bought her an overpriced bottle of Prosecco and she went away.
It all made sense now.
Soon another employee was flirting with me.
She was fun. A nerd at heart. She made jokes and puns that spanned Latin, French, German, English, Italian & Czech. Continue Reading