muffboxfilms

MUFFBOXFILMS

2007-07-26T18:42:00.001+10:00

From the beginning of 2005 to half way through 2006 these chapters of my life represented a thorough immersion into the world of sex work, swinging, porn and pornography. These chapters represent a period of my life where I had little choice but to determine what motivated my lifestyle, relationships, stimulants, and my mind. In them you will discover dabbling in many devious endeavours, the result of being the end of a relationship, the start of a new one, the "coming of age" in my pornography pursuits, and many thoughts on sexuality that may not be quite so academic, not quite so neatly referenced and summarised, but rather the rantings of someone who in their breathless style of writing attempts to allow you, the reader to be all those things I am not, and quietly organise its structures in your own method, in your own way.

For my sex Blogging capers that continued ... please follow my journey at Rated-(R) (2007-2009), Fancies and Fuckeries (2009-2011), Vice Rector (2011), and The Smut Organ (2012).

I do hope you have a ball ... or two ... or none ... examining and combing through my mothballed months. I will be adding links here to various wonderful places to browse as the weeks progress.

CREATIVE COCK PICS
The Creative Cock
Eye of the penis (not tiger)
Rock me Amadeus
Between a rock and a hard place series
We are the Webcams
The Way Of All Book Worms
For Whom The Belle de Jour Tolls
Can't sleep, take pics.
He's not the messiah...
We will rock you
A smattering of reprieve
Foamy Phone Photo
Pull up to the bumper...
boh-dandy cock-o-graph
On a lighter note
Challenge complete!
A cock and its shadow
Que farei eu com esta ereção?
The Royal We

THE NAKED RELATIONSHIP
Doing the Don Quixote
Ribbet! That's not green corugated condoms mind you.
Yee-Hah!
Reasons to be cheerful (not an Ian Dury post)
Fussy Little Prick
Can't help ourselves.
Helping me watch porn
Embers of Sex
Sex in every room - pics
Princely Cream

PORN
I've got a bike you can ride it if you like...(never heard it called that before)
Around my porn in a post.
Let's do lunch and talk nouveau smut
I Feel Myself & Other Delights
The Avocado Test

SWINGING
Why I like swinging
I like the sentiment...
The Swinging Nows

LIVE SEX SHOW WORK
Our first booking.
Our sensual business
Our first double booking
The Life and Times of a Kinky Couple
Any requests?
Gobsmacked!

MASTURBATION
To mars and back.
Whilst I'm on the subject.
Masturbation in Motion
Perversity at University
Strokin

FANTASY
What would happen?
Sucking David Bowie's Cock
The closest thing I have to a Cuckolding fantasy
Sexual Trivialities
Zoom zip and I wake up.
Fantasy #1

BDSM
Whips and Chains may break my libido but you can call me a slut anyday
Strawberry & Sherbet Sex
Seal of approval
Handycuffs

VOYUERISM
Walking along...
A new glimmer of voyeurism...
A short 16mm sized post.

STUFF ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS
Inspired and slightly pissed off
Relationships

JUST SILLY
This Man Cannot Be Identified
Simply apply, and in firm strokes, keep on rubbing
Condom Test Drive
I kid you not ...
It spins me right 'round
Toilet Humor one might think perhaps?
Oh look it's Michael Palin!

SEX
SMS Sex
Morning Sex
Dial an orgasm
Sex in every room - tick.
The Sexual Revolution will not be televised.
A general housekeeping post
Didn't you just post last night ?

MISCELLANEOUS
The Tugboat
Now that's fucked up.
The Blogger always posts at least once.
In amusing fashion.
SIX
fucking good time fucking
What goes up...
The Snoggs
Speaking of spoken word.

Cellular Paridiso

2007-03-01T15:06:00.000+11:00

Is that The Film that John Lennon couldn't make in your pocket or ...

The Film that John Lennon couldn't make" is now freshly available to download to put on your mobile phone and surprise your friends, make enemies, quieten the neighbours, or just make your decision to quit your job easier by sending it to your boss (or whom ever tolls the bells in your chosen profession) - it makes the perfect gift for anyone travelling on a packed train or someone who just needs a rise.

Just click on the following link, follow the prompts (there are only two - on the second page you'll need to scroll down to the bottom), once you've got it on your computer, either input it by cable onto your mobile or infra-red or bluetooth off your desktop.

DOWNLOAD MOVIE

Then MMS or whatever you do to all those numbers on your mobile phone that you've collected over many drunken clubbing nights, broken promises of contact from street strangers, and people who swore they would be your best friend for a million years after swapping numbers and have since vanished to the same land that is inhabited by trillions of pens and odd socks.

Click and ye shall find ...

2006-05-01T14:14:00.000+10:00

In Artus - rellocating ut novus oratio

2006-04-28T16:57:00.000+10:00

As I have said lately that in changing the header banner I have also felt that muffboxfilms needed a new name and new address - so muffboxfilms is in the process of packing up. The carpet will be the last thing rolled into the new sphere. I doubt very much the look and feel of the site will change but the concept behind it will vary somewhat. A bit of winter redecorating and the like. I shall let all know the new address asap, as I have it already but just tinkering with a few design features.

Some recent visitations ...

welcome those who popped over from ...

Russian Federation

and

Trinidad and Tobago

Also ...

to the miracle believer who dropped by, I assume this site wasn't what you were looking for exactly, but it could be viewed as a slight miracle that we passed each other as ships are want to do in the night. Though I thought it interesting that as your site was deeply devoted to religion, you had searched MUFF on MSN but then again I'm all for progressive believers.

Those who searched:

x-tra kinky nudes (Yahoo)

I hope that the nudity was kinky enough.

For the mo bloggers can read all about some of my erotic adventures through Leopards Love just whilst I survey the nature of my new blog.

A short 16mm sized post.

2006-04-27T12:41:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I had the last of the intensive 16mm class where we got the opportunity to do some shooting and it even furthered my desire to just use film, we put the stock and camera through some tests - it is just absolutely amazing how much detail goes into testing the camera before a shoot, testing everything, and she taught us how to test everything in a low budget or gorilla doco style manner aswell as explaining the more professional tests. There was so much information to digest, everyone, including me, just shut-up and concentrated on the jobs at hand, thank-god she wore tight jeans that bagged a little at the waist and a top that possessed nooks and crannies of flesh under exposed but palatable glimpsing no less, so that some reprieve of voyeuristic refreshment could be gained through-out the technical over-flow of words. It's funny how certain words in moments of voyeurism have much more of a heated meaning like at one stage as she was explaining how to check bits of the camera, out came the words 'head' and 'pull', they wafted for a moment in dirty interpretation and then cleared into focus to what they were really referring to. I am indeed a 'horn-bag'.

A cock and its shadow

2006-04-23T17:16:00.000+10:00

Since this post was so short I'd thought I'd just post anew on top of my 'cock n shadow' shot, actually that sounds like a seedy tavern somewhat doesn't it, "aye, I'll meet you at the cock 'n' shadow at around midnight". The beer taps would be cock shaped, and when you got too much head with your beer, you wouldn't complain.

I made myself a HUGE cup of tea, and between writing up the intro to my online documentary 'voy' coming to a website near you, amongst feminised ephebes and Freudian theories on discharge and delay, phobic obsessions and fetishistic denial, aswell as waiting for my pork spare ribs to heat in the oven with mashed (or as my papa used to say 'smashed') potato and four bean salad type thingy. Listening to a bit of Tchaikovsky. A blog post might distract me well, and well it might.

I finished writing an article for my student paper Catalyst called "Lust for University Life" a call for students to tap into their desires by informing them about the pleasures of Swinger's Parties. It always amazes me how gobsmacked some people get when you merely skim the surface of such ventures. Suddenly they are prodding you for more details, one can almost feel the bristles of the hair pricked on the napes of their necks.

I adore Melbourne in the winter time, I take the opportunity to ride my bike less (although I recently slapped a sign on my bike helmet that says "back off" reflecting my "none shall pass" attitude when riding through traffic) and take public-transport. Melbourne gets more insular during the winter, everyone capped, beanied, and jacketed. Although the flesh flashing takes a back-seat, everyone here really gets into winter fashion.

Tucking into Samuel Butler's "The way of All Flesh", the partially completed, in need of a re-write novel penned by Mr Butler from 1872 until 1884. Today has been rather a sleepy Sunday afternoon, having done a fair bit of tinkering on the feature film script, walking the Collie dog we are minding, cleaning my desk, doing a bit of research etc.

Downloaded some porn I really liked. There needs to be a dvd collection called 'best of the net' or something. It is about time. One vid amused me as the girl was wanking off her boyfriend and sucking his nipple at the same time, all she said during this process, was 'yeah stroke it' until he came. Fini.

what's in a blogroll?

2006-04-23T12:09:00.000+10:00

Recently I thought it was interesting how we choose to name our fellow bloggers in our blog roll. Okay, so this isn't a greatly profound post, and even people might not see it as interesting but it suits an over-cast Sunday morning for me.

Take for instance Chelsea Girl, now I have her blogrolled as Chelsea Girl, and some people blog roll her as Pretty Dumb Things. Also with Demon Queen, now Palace of the Ice Maiden but because I started out with Demon Queen, I have seem to have stuck with it, and intitially never even put in "Realm of ...". Remmy is Remmy to some, but on my blogroll he is Versucher. Virgin Slut for a long time on my blogroll was "Confessions of a Virgin Slut" but then I realised she was "Dillemmas of ...".

So in essence to this most fascinating post, some of us fill our blogrolls with the names of the bloggers, and other's with the names of the blogs. We seem to get to know each other one way or the other. As Dark Neuro for me is DN or Dark Neuro but rarely "House of Musings". Shay, although seen to be from the S-Spot is more familiar to me as Shay but then she's from the "S-Spot".

I know that muffbox is sometimes muffboxfilms, muffbox, or just rupert. It's like a close circle of friends, as we begin sorting out how we signal each other and what becomes familiar to us in our own ways.

Thank-you for taking the time to read this fascinating post about blog names. My next issue will be about the average word count for a blog post. Wow, I know you are very excited. See you all then!

BUT also whilst I'm on the topic of blogroll names, I'd also like to mention how unusual it sometimes feels to be discussing another blogger with a friend and using their blog name - one time I recall catching myself in public talking about Virgin Slut because some of the looks people were giving me started to un-nerve this dearly been-here-for-a-while soul.

"Google Me"

2006-04-22T21:06:00.000+10:00

I'm a little drunk. Why?. My day. The workshop for Anna's script 'The Band' as produced by Poison Apple Productions. We had a read through, and it was my first incite into Anna's writing in complete form which is altogether witty and diverse. I think the outcome of this project is going to be very good. We spent much of the time modelling for an article being published in a few weeks in The Bulletin, a national newspaper centric to the business community but has since spread its wings to a variety of stories whose subject is elsewhere - and so I shall remember to pick up a copy to scan the article onto muffboxfilms. The photo shoot had me without pants but hiding my cock behind a cupped hand, well this will be a general publication after all. There was a merry cheer when I announced to the photographer that I didn't wear underpants, as he suggested I take off my trousers and stand in my jocks. What can you do? It was a personal choice I made at thirteen, my last pair of under-wear was a pair of leopard print things for kids. I liked them but after that I refused to be in anything boxer or y-fronted, I am a very hygenic person, and so have never understood and have never had, skid-marks. Sometimes I wonder what men do all that time in the toilet, if they spend so long in there, why do they always end up with skid-marks dangling from the line?

But the fellow cast seemed friendly and I felt there was a general warmth felt. - The character of which I play is kind of your White Stripe rock boy, a bass guitarist with a secret fetish that is building up beneath him like a volcano, of which he supresses with a lifestyle of booze, drugs, and cigarettes. The evening had me feeling like a celebrity, to which Anna must have had certain frustrations due to wanting to workshop us through the script - but never-the-less, it's all for the good of it.

Afterwards, I was wined, or rather beered by our journo friends, and found our Bulletin correspondent interesting and amusing of which he might himself not see of himself. Anyway we exchanged numbers or rather he thrust his upon me, so in future meetings I may delve deeper into what it means to be a roving journo on the heels of a good story.

We had two other accomplices to our evening, a celebrity photographer and his assistant, sometimes mistaken for 'sister' as he admitted because he must mumble it sometimes when going in for a shoot. They were lovely too, and I listened to tales of our Germaine Greer who he recently took pics of.

The end of the evening, Anna gave me a ride back home, very kindly considering I had a bike as well. We chatted about the character and so forth. I am looking forward to her future output as she seems to have a clear idea on many aspects of sexuality, some views I hadn't really thought of as far as cinema goes.

Oh Kay, there be my blog entry about today's proceedings - I am sure dear bloggers you shall hear more about it and when I sober up, so shall I.

The Avocado Test

2006-04-16T17:04:00.000+10:00

One thing that always bugs me about 'amateur' shot porn (the home movie type), particularly where the male has the camera in his hands, is the 'avocado test'. I call it that because it is what you do at the fruit market when you are looking for a 'just ripe' avocado. There is something mechanical or puerile about this motion when applied to the human body. I liken it to having experienced personally and heard of guys who open up a vagina like they were poking around the innards of some dead animal. I've said it before, this habit of men needing to pries open something and tinker, but not in any way, shape or form erotically or sensually or kinky or even dirty. It's like little boys picking their noses and examining the content, I am fully aware that little girls do this also, but for some reason in my mind it all relates to scabs on knees and skid marks in jocks.

I just really dislike seeing the breast grope, you see a woman purring in lust or heaving in anticipation or dummying up the fantasy of innocence and anticipation, then from behind the camera comes this plump hairy hand with a wrist-watch and fingers that snap at the breast like one of those soft toy lucky dip claws. I see it in 'bubblegum porn' also; I imagine this is where they might get it from.

It removes the whole element of an interaction between intelligent human beings and makes it like a gardener mulching manure with his hands. Seriously though, where is the imagination, the inspiration, the flare? For god's sake, it’s as if the very life has been sucked out of the art of lovemaking, and it is an art, because I would easily use the analogy of the difference between having Whistler paint my house or a house painter paint my portrait. This I mean, that some men make love like they are painting the outside of a weatherboard house and others like they are working with brush and easel.

Face-lift for Muffbox

2006-04-15T18:52:00.000+10:00

Hello surfers, this is your blogger speaking. We are currently about to take-off MUFFBOXFILM's old header image and replace it with a new one. You may feel a little turbulence as this is being done, but please remember, keep your fast-belts seated, and (to borrow a line from my short film 'Realising Sigmund') thank-you for unzipping your fly with us.

Muffboxfilms has had a face lift. Inspired by the wonderful reactions of my fellow bloggers to do with an image I was particularly proud of - being the symmetry and such. Don't get me wrong. It is about time I think, since the original image had me nestled in the pussy of an ex-girlfriend who is well out of the picture these days. I felt the need to refresh and reinvigorate muffbox's header. I don't know why I chose this image over the many I like and have posted before, I think because it almost appears like an 'advert' for something, an expensive watch, a luxury car, or men's after-shave. I can imagine them putting the Swiss quartz around the cock, and the slug-line would be, 'a good time'. Maybe, well that was my response to a Vogue competition recently, they also asked me what I thought of it, and i wrote, 'Very watchable'. Surely I should win just on the merit of bad punning.

Although the name 'muffboxfilms' remains, being ever so oblique. It really was an alternative creative part of 'snuffboxfilms' which is my production company - but since I decided that I am every part of me and what I do, that snuffboxfilms would carry all my output whether explicit or not - as with my personal name. But what does 'muffboxfilms' mean now? I guess it doesn't really mean anything precise. 'Muff' as in cunt, 'Box' as in cunt, okay so there is a female genital tautology followed by 'films' - a translation of the name might be 'cuntpussymovies' or 'crackclitflicks'. Who knows, and deep down, who cares.

The REAL reason for this post (see above).

Que farei eu com esta ereção?

2006-04-12T16:06:00.000+10:00

Didn't you just post last night ?

2006-04-12T10:50:00.000+10:00

Yes, I did, but since my life has been filled to the brim with documents of all kinds that need to be written and my thoughts keep on 'expanding and expanding' (needs to be said the way Eric Idle does in The Galaxy Song) - I have found myself spilling over to writing constantly in both my blogs and often on the floor, over people's bodies. Sometimes I'll be on the tram and and I'll just start writing on somebody, or scribbling madly notes on the legs of mini-skirted girls, even doodling on poodles, and flourishing texts on the rims of passing cyclists.

I was just thinking the other day how mostly in my wild life of romance and romping, that rarely have I ever been the one who has been picked up. Oh, I suppose that necessarily isn't true, actually as I think about it more, it has been kind of a shared effort. Well mostly. I think about times when I have pursued. I know them because I only had one thing in mind at the time, 'I must have you', to be so dramatic.

To have and to hold. What was it exactly? A curiosity, a sexual curiosity, there were girls of course who I went crazy with lustful desire over, and could never bring myself to play things that way. Instead, I short sold myself, was it the wrong time perhaps?

It brings back a memory, which I might have posted about before, but it concerned a housemate of mine, years ago. I had lived with her for two years. She had seen/heard many of my relationships/flings come and go. She was very cute, could speak Portuguese and had a little finger that couldn't bend at the knuckle. As housemates, she saw me go through absolute chaos and craziness. Wild times you wouldn't believe. She witnessed everything that was me, good and not so good. About a year after I had left the house, we met again at a party of an ex-girlfriend of mine. We were getting chatty and drunk on a couch, the rest of the party had reduced itself to a small crowd, it was obvious we were enjoying each other's company. I think we always had, in a housemate kind of way. She actually had a boyfriend at the time but I don't think things were rosy between them.

So by the end of the night, somehow in someway we had arranged to go home together. I remember my ex-girlfriend sternly warning me to not go there, as they were good friends, but I was experimenting with a rather ill-affecting perscription of anti-depressants, a drug I have never and would never take again. I react extremely badly with any sort of anti-depressant, I don't care what Doctor says what. I only like to tamper with my mind for reasons of my own choosing, and as much as being depressed has brought me closer to any precipice of self-destruction I would rather put into place my own preventatives and solutions then use medication as a crutch. Sorry I realise that they are very important to some people, that is fine, I am merely talking about my own experience with them.

I digress. So given factors, I completely ignored this warning of my ex-girlfriend, not because of the anti-depressants entirely, I didn't quite care to what she was saying at the time, indeed, selfishly, I was thinking that it wouldn't be so bad a situation in the long-term.

Off we went, me in a rather self-effacing way, dinking her on a heavy bike, puffing and sweating terribly from having sunk to the lower depths of misery at that period. This experience was supposed to be magnificant, what a let odwn it would be, for all the wrong reasons. We got back to the place where she was staying, I remember seeing her naked body for the first time after having spent so much time living, eating and sleeping in the same vicinity. It was everything I might have secretly fantasised about during our abodement. The sex was unimaginative and difficult, purely from my end. The next morning I felt really down and actually apologised for being such an awful fuck, and it all came down to those fucking little pills that numbed my senses and turned my mind into an empty box.

Her reasons for wanting to have sex with me, as she expressed during our removal of clothes, was that for two years of having shared living quarters and been privy to the coming and going of many women, that she was 'curious'. Well, I certainly fucked the satedness of that up. But back to the original thought of this post, that situation seemed like a rare moment when I couldn't say who pursued who. It was almost an arrangement made quite formerly. 'we should go back to your place and fuck should we not?', 'yes, yes, good idea, I think it is about time', 'shake on it?', 'done'.

Another time I had ended up bloody bruised and battered for the love of a woman, a story I will tell one day, of my longest relationship and at the time 'love of my life', involving angry Mexicans, and her following me around all day with wide puppy eyes, hardly saying a word, just following me, everywhere.

So I guess, looking back, everything from being plucked from the dance floor to be taken to the beach for a fuck by a stranger who just liked the way I danced to me seeing someone from the other side of a pub and thinking, 'we have to fuck'. I have been bold in my pursuits and been ravaged from unawares. I don't in general like pursuing people, I can be quite shy and picky about people. If I latch onto something I don't quite feel comfortable with about a person, I immediately close up. The barriers go up like the glass panels protecting "The Pink Panther". I can also be quite a snob, and put on an air of 'disinterest', sometimes people rub me up the wrong way (when if it wasn't for negative/positive forces at work we could have rubbed each other up the right way), with their prattle if shallow in thought, I'll immediately take the offensive no matter how sexually appealing they are.

Seedling post.

2006-04-11T20:25:00.000+10:00

Very kindly a fellow contestant from the Einstein Factor, who actually appeared in the show that was taped before mine (the 100th episode), contacted me in regards to writing an article on Errol Flynn for his cultural magazine. I am priviledged to be in this position, as the publication is nation-wide, and I have a lot to say about this pencil-lined chap in tights.

Any man who can write "I have seen the structures of this century and been within them and I am of them. I have my fun, my kicks, my vodka, my affairs and my fights and my pictures, at one place or another, and at all of them...I have had my women, felled the suitors, weilded my sword for the world to see, have had fun and action, romance and sport, and looked hard for the deeper meanings of it all. I have tried like a warrior in a cause to find meanings in the meaningless, life in death, death in life, joy in anger, laughter and love, and I have found hardship, money and fame and riches, and wretchedness and pain and unhappiness. I have had wives, loves and children" (My Wicked, Wicked Ways) and be telling the truth of the matter, certainly has, as Errol described himself having, "a genius for living".

Why not put some visual fun back into your web searching with a neat graphic crawler called KartOO - okay this visual meta search engine designed with flash has been around for a bit, but it makes all the more relevent Sabine's remark about polishing the Genie. She's just finished I believe getting neck-kinks watching Jagger swing his hips up in Sydney. I however, am 'stranded' as the Saints may growl, here in the wonderful hell I lovingly refer to for not particular reason except that is what it is as Essay-Application-Monteiro-Blog-Writing-Pre-production-Post-production land.

I am about to watch, maybe tomorrow "Recollections of the Yellow House", another Monteiro film. I was having a chat to one of my university lecturers the other day, head of the cinema department, and he was commenting on how Joao being such a relatively unknown filmmaker, his case is rare, his entire out-put (which is by no means small) is completely available on dvd. This is unlike other more tossed about filmmakers who some may have a dodgy copy on vhs available only in French, and an independently released dvd with a scanned cover print.

I have been living in a kind of haze lately, nothing purplish, just one of those times in one's life when upon deciding to cook a meal realises that four pots are on the stove, and each needs at various stages in the cooking new ingredients, stirring, extra spices, varying heat adjustments, and the grill is charring faster then expected, as the oven now in full pre-heat needs something to be put in it for less time then pot two on the stove, which needs urgent stirring next to pot four which needs a tom peeled, cored, and eggplant minced for pot one. Anyone want a glass of wine?

- to borrow a remark from Henry Miller interviewed by George Wickes in The Paris Review Interviews, London 1961:

"I've got everything else under the sun to do while writing"

Sabine to the rescue

2006-04-04T16:45:00.000+10:00

As I was saying, when a friend of many years leaves, to some distant place, there becomes a vacuum in one's life. I felt it last Thursday when I curled into a ball at 6pm and slept right through to the next day - and after he left, I mean really left, it was quite a aimless three or four days, until today. Well, yesterday actually. I texted Sabine from Uni saying "I feel destitute, depressed" - she offered a visit. Stroked my hair, gave me a massage, and then we fucked until I was purged of any 'loss' I may have felt for the departure of Monsieur Friedbrains. I woke up fresh and good today. Cruised into one university, and cruised to the next. Even doodled a rough sketch in class of a position we did that night, but was cautious to finish it in case the teacher caught a glimpse and thought I was drawing her.

Sabine's arse shunted back towards me, the rest of her body pressed firm against the cool wall, my hands around her wrists pushing her arms up tight, her head pinned to one side - she couldn't get away. I wasn't going to let her get away because from this position I could dance my fingers around her clit, and string my cock through her bow legs... I wanted to swat her arse but when you are share-housing there is the noise factor.

When I released my hold, she slumped back on my perched thighs, and her breasts were cool and nipples very hard. The rest of her body was flushed in heat. This contrast felt delightful as my hands skied along all her curves and dips.

So, rescued I was and recently having recieved my first email from Friedbrains, I know that my mission for him to send me the 'juicy' tales of his travels will be exciting - the odd thing was just after he left, another old friend living in Sth Korea called, as he does, and we had a good chat, I said to him "It doesn't make sense me living in Melbourne, I ought to be living in Poland or somewhere, then with all of us dispersed across the globe, it might make more sense".

So to some filmy stuff. The box set Of Joao Cesar Monteiro has just arrived in my university library, and I eagerly plucked three of his films for my watching. Apart from Manoel de Oliveira - Joao is another heavy weight film-maker. His work looks more aligned to my style of filmmaking, Fernando Lopes called him the "Rimbaud of Portuguese cinema" - "I felt good, and stretched my legs. Under the green table: I was staring. At a tapestry's simple scenes. When a girl with huge tits and bright eyes ... " to quote a little Rimdaud, his poem "At the cabaret-vert, five p.m." - and so we have the feeling of Monteiro, his film "God's Comedy" of which I haven't watched yet except for the crew interviews, has the narrative of a man called "Joao de Deus" who spends his days running an ice-cream store where he has invented an ice-cream called "Paradise" and in evenings he "lovingly goes through his collection of female, pubic hairs in a treasured album which he calls his Book of Thoughts".

Joao Cesar Monteiro

This cinematic find coincided with an intense workshop in 16mm filmmaking preparing me for my "Errol Flynn's Pianist" shoot. The German woman holding the workshops is a cinematographer who studied at the same school of film in Germany as Wim Wenders, and it was a 'fucking' superb five hours to say the least, to get such a thorough introduction to operating a camera whose basic component alone costs around $60, 000 Australian. The camera is only two years old and so is pretty much top quality and a fully professional device. These lessons continue in a few weeks, and we go out and shoot some material. I'm excited because it felt more 'precise' working with film rather then digital video. We got experience in pulling apart and putting together the camera, loading film, checking the light, knowing the filters, understanding the different film stock, all the add-ons.

Speaking of spoken word.

2006-04-01T21:04:00.000+11:00

Cleverland Weirdness has just played my spoken word track "Kfc is a muthafucka" - have a look at the write up page here and you can even listen to the track here

Muffboxfilms is also the first site proudly to be linked by sexaudible the online radio broadcaster of all things sexual and beyond. The first internet radio station devoted entirely to sex. The funny thing about coming across this station is that I wrote a radio play, or a series of radio plays starring these characters called "Clemon and Floo" one episode revolved around them running a radio station called Triple X, and the comedic absurdities that I was able to draw from a "pirate" station trying to broadcast hardcore/fetish material to the general public.

And finally ... smudge!

And finally again ...

4 Sabine.

some of the best combinations are ...

Drilling for spoils ... parched ... drippings ... then cock 'n' cunt concerto
pants off ... body spillage ... penile pummelling pile driver ... fluttering
febrile lips ... dithering tongue ... subdued legs scaffolded over shoulders
and nothing better then doodling fingers on a lazy cock ...

Oh, yes, thumbs pressed against your lower back grooves the length to your neck
head in mitt and cock tip putts until pounding, other hand tinting your clit ... my raised thighs bristling alongside your jostling buttocks become slugging thwacks of flesh ... to the resounding honks of your horniness and my creaks of desire, finally blows and hisses of tumbling lust over the orgasm ... chasm. The avalanche of satisfaction swills endorphins 'round and 'round the bed of sweat ... well my sweat, mainly.

If it were possible, to fuck on the ceiling, I'd reckon we'd have done it by now.

Also, for tea tonight, I was extra classy ... tin of spag and meatballs on toast with eggs ... whilst I watched Peter Bogdanovich's 'Saint Jack' - the style of which I love in filmmaking, that meandering camera that settles then rises to potter somewhere else, catches a glimpse from a distance then sometimes peers, cranes and loiters, finally nestling on something besides or to the point.

A tribute to Friedbrains

2006-03-30T12:15:00.000+11:00

I was wondering where this depression came from, it snuck up behind me last night, there I was just sitting at my desk. Thumbing through resources, getting ready to analyse a sequence from "The Big Sleep" (the Howard Hawks version, not the remake), one of my favourite films. The I got it. This morning as I toyed to why my whole being is partially dipped in despair. One of my best friends of seven years is going to Bolivia for two years.

I had avoided really thinking about it. Funny that he is leaving on April Fool's day, and I joked with him that he might be planning an elaborate April Fool's joke, something that has now become a bit of a 'jest' amongst his other friend's also.

I'll call him Friedbrains because we spent several years adopting the plumes of "Backwards and Friendbrains" when we used to frequent "The Punters" in Fitzroy, playing pool, we came up with characters for all our opponents, there was "The Rock", "The Stingray", and "The Buccaneer" - fun times. Once we walked in and went to the pool table. We lined up the balls, and got ready to challenge a couple of players. We won the game and it was only after it that we were told we just played the pool champions, we had rocked up just after the championships had finished. How's that for a great feeling, we had a blast of a night. There were many.

We used to also put on accents, usually Irish, and have loads of fun whether it was at "The Punters", "The Club" (when it was grot central), "The Pukespew" (The Parkville), "The Clifton Hill Hotel", "The Rochester", "The Empress" - all regular haunts. These accents often landed us in amusing situations, one night particularly when we were cracking onto a group of girls. They believed we were Irish, and then another group of men began hitting on them, several of the girls came back to us suspicious. They told us they thought the other guys were putting on their Irish accents. Funny thing was, the other guys were actually Irish and we were not.

I had exchanged details with one of the girls, we were getting on like a house on fire (that's another Friedbrains caper I'll write on another time), and then a few days later she called me. Well I answered the phone in my regular Australian accent, then remembering who she was I suddenly had to thickly put on my Irish accent again. It was all very silly.

Many nights lasted until dawn, and Friedbrains and I would stumble home, extremely pissed, this happened at least three or four times a week, no wonder it took me four years to finish my degree. We'd stop by at the bakeries which were getting ready for the day, and they would give us some of yesterday's bread or such, and then we'd chase the early morning milk van, and they would often give us a not so popular selling milk like a pineapple flavoured "Big M".

As a friend, Friedbrains has been so important to me, and I guess these next two years I see and feel a gap in my life. I won't get the regular phone calls I have enjoyed so much with Friedbrain's saying "I feel like going to the pub" - a true friend in the most social sense. We always ended up in the pub. I love pubs and playing pool, debriefing the week. He has helped me through so many relationships, even physically rescued me from some.

I first met him in Brisbane when I was working with him, he'd be one of our group that ended up in the pub after work. Then he told me he was going to a university in another state. I wasn't sure sure where, and so we parted company. I never suspected I'd run into him again, but I got into RMIT, and was walking through campus one day, and then I heard my name being called out. There he was, going to the same university as I was. The madness started there. All the wild nights like being chased by cops, to getting busted doing some subversive voyeuristic activities, to lying our way all night long on the booze with Irish accents. Most nights we'd wipe ourselves out easily.

I saw him grow from being tortured by shyness to a man of many friends and public ease. A performer, who began that journey on the stage of "The Arthouse" in North Melbourne. He is truly one of a kind. The most remarkable thing about our friendship, and one of its most enduring qualities, is the non-judgemental factor. He always being much more of a solid ethical person and myself quite the opposite, but he never judged me in such a way to make me feel wrong or bad about my choices in life. Indeed his advice was always welcome but it never infringed on our friendship. I tried to explain my reasonings and he did the best thing a friend could do, he listened but never gave any snarly comments through-out, and never let it tarnish what we had together and that was a like-minded outlook on 'being' even though vastly different at the same time. I would say often there was an exchange in values, and I think this appreciation of each other as individuals gave a strong respect regardless of differring lifestyles - it meant that ultimately we could be straight out, honest, and up front about anything without the fear of being shot down by the other person.

So, I know now that it has finally kind of hit me that in three days time he is leaving for quite a long period of time. Actually my birthday drinks came to mind, and his absence which will make my birthday not quite what it could be. We have kind of band-aided the experience of his departure with the joke that he'll walk into a bar in Bolivia, and there I'll be, hunched over a "zombie" - on the run from some such trouble I've landed myself in as usual.

I shall miss you Friedbrains - and look forward to your swift return, but also i hope you have bucket loads of pleasure.

'around abouts'

2006-03-30T11:27:00.000+11:00

No, I don't think it will catch on, not in the "In like Flynn" kind of way. My time has come, the call came through. I'm going on "The Einstein Factor" next week, Thursday 6th of April. My topic will be this man below ...

A naked pic of Errol. The first I have seen, and is it a fake. His pubic region looks all too Tasmania shaped. The photo looks 'touched' or either taken at night, which would explain the harsh colour differences. But his body doesn't match Flynn, but then again in his later years, which this does appear to be, Flynn really went to waste. His cock wasn't supposed to be all that impressive, but could this be that rare pic that Earl Conrad spoke of, the one taken in Cuba? If so then the wasted form makes sense because by that stage Errol was on his way "Out like Flynn".

Upon closer inspection though, his pubic region is all over the place, so I have decided this is a fake. A doctrined image of Errol, over-touched too much. The belly-button is missing, his pecs are non-existent, and even when Errol was falling apart, he developed a saggy chest, the body size is too skinny for a man who was over 6ft and built like a boxer. Yep, unless anyone can explain otherwise, this is counterfeit Flynn.

A little bit of extra sauce. An ex-fuck-buddy and friend for many years of mine "The Gypsy" has gotten her image as the free daily image promo shot for "I Shot Myself".

Well, the image has gone, just a peep for those whoe caught it before the ISM daily imagine flipped over afresh.

A case of the chalk liking the cheese

2006-03-29T16:21:00.000+11:00

It has to be reported that Tom DiCillo's new film "Delirious" is in post-production. He is my favourite filmmaker, and his list of films all worthwhile such as "Living in Oblivion", "Double Whammy", "The Real Blonde", "Johnny Suede", "Box of Moonlight", all great films and now you get a chance to view the trailer from his latest film ... right here down the bottom of this page.

People ask me why I like Tom DiCillo when my style of filmmaking is so different from his, and perhaps that is why. I like Tom's efficiency with words, different from my own convulence and often wordy films. I like the way Tom carefully places his moments without attempting to make a fuss of his shots. I like the fact that Tom places into his films eccentricities that hang well in the frame without blowing out the mis-en-scene. I further think that as far as independent filmmakers go, he sits quietly on the fence in great pains to get his patch of vegetables looking the way he wants them and not how others should see them. All completely different to how I like to work.

On a lighter note

2006-03-28T17:10:00.000+11:00

Please feel free though to continue the voyeurism discourse below as it is the main theme of my documentary "voy" but now I must stray away from my University themes and slip into the veneer of "beat the cybershot camera timer" and "When hand and cock become one, shot in glorious sepia". Not much of a topic but you can see the shapely "pencil-line" mustache I have cultivated for my ABC appearance.

A new glimmer of voyeurism...

2006-03-26T03:09:00.000+11:00

I was on my bike the other day and rode steadily up a stream of "gridlocked" (because although they were eventually going to move, they are still stuck in their cars) traffic. As I passed a few cars I happened to glance in through the passenger window, it was a hot day and I wasn't burling down the roads as I usually do. Through one window I spied a girl at the wheel, her short blue skirt pushed way up to her thighs. Wow! I thought. Then another car, I glanced in and yet another girl, this time with a green dress bunched up right against her thighs. My God! I perplexed, why haven't I been paying this much attention to traffic before. Eureka! I internally whipped off and threw into the air my "tiffany" hat, that's my de Bono’s hat for perverse thinking - a whole new scenery to explore!

It was so obvious, and sabine confirmed her driving habits in skirts often with them riding right up and legs apart at the helm. I should have put two and two together, always slightly tickled sensually when women exit cars adjusting layers of garments or potting down the hem of short skirts - therefore inside the vehicle everything fabric like is in disarray - hip, hip ... hips mmmmmmm. I celebrated by checking out window after window and as I turned the corner into a quiet tree lined street, I took a deep breath and smiled to myself, knowing that the anticpation of a long bicycle ride will be marinaded in this exciting discovery.

I Feel Myself & Other Delights

2006-03-24T08:03:00.000+11:00

The crew down at ISM have designed another site. This one is called "I feel myself", my ex-partner did some work for it just before we had to call it quits. I must say I was somewhat intrigued by what they were going to come up with and this site is kind of a almalgamation of three Melbournian porn ideas: "Beautiful Agony", "ISM" and Abby Winter's "Intimate Moments".

Will this site take off? It has all the ingredients of other successful ideas but I wonder if it might have been better had they had isolated it further from the other ones, possibly by way of the title, perhaps "Feel Thyself" might reflect the website's pantheon like lay-out. The thunder clouds pulsating in amberish ripples and the Leonardo styled grids.

But you can rely on these people to bring you quality "porn" and by concentrating all these themes to one is perhaps a niche waiting to be subscribed to. Personally I was hoping the next project might be more radical but nevermind, there is certainly a whole lot to bare in "I feel myself" - although not as strong in concept as Agony or ISM, it does have that masturbatory market down pat. A very popular kind of "voyeurism" as it reveals us at our most enthusiastically desperate for a moment of libido curdling toe-squeeze.

To the right on my blogroll I have pasted their sample video so you can get a taste of what it is all about.

Some daily dribble ...

2006-03-23T21:37:00.000+11:00

Excuse this post if it comes out rather wonky and whimsical. It is the end of my day before I go clean some more mullet in order for it to marinade over night, I find it very useful to do a recipe at least twice to get it down pat. Sabine was poking fun of me the other night because I requested turkey mince for my baked rice dish. Your obscessed with "turkey mince and mullet" she said, I have only ever bought them once in my entire life.

Sometimes I just like to put down the pattern of events to let myself know just how much one can fit in one day. Up at 6am. Rode to Ellwood from Sth Yarra at 7:30am, from Ellwood to Ripponlea Station, caught train to Brunswick Station, rode to destination in Brunswick, then rode to Thornbury Station, caught train from Thornbury to Resevoir Station, rode from Resovoir to La-Trobe University, took classes, then rode back to Resevoir, caught train to Merri Station, rode from Merri Station to City RMIT, sat in class listening to multi-million dollar producer talk the "deal" making process through with us. Learnt some stuff. Rode from RMIT after 3hr class ending at 8pm, to Coburg. Anyone who knows Melbourne, knows that's a bloody lot of riding. The whole journey was capped with a golden Holden Kingswood running a red arrow of which I was crossing the road on the green walk signal, "It say's walk, you fuck-head!" was my astonished yelp as they sneered and made that kind of dumb roar from dropped jaws.

Now at home finished wanking, chugging down some coffee preparing to tackle fish and then dinner, then homework, then bed. Then up again at 6am.

My audition for the erotic film is on Saturday. Shall let everyone know what went down. Or rather stayed up.

I think I fucked Sabine good and proper last night for she started flapping at my chest with her hands making a rapid laughing like noise. I stopped to ask her if I was going too deep, as sometimes certain positions can cause such things, but she blustered "No, I was just so happy". And there you go, I had to do the big run up again because I had stopped just before I was going to climax. It was a beautiful way to slip into sleep, I was so tired from three exhaustive days that all I needed was a fuck and a soft pillow. Of which I got.

Sabine is also getting "half nekkid" for thursdays at Leopard's Love.

Last thing I must add to this rambling post is that I watched a Python documentary filmed in Tunsia during the making of the "Life of Brian", fuck it was funny, although I wish they had included more on their filmmaking then on the Python group relations.

Last, last thing I will add that if you pop over to Onlines you will see some great pics taken and arranged by my son for his Tinman animation character.

Pending my time

2006-03-21T16:35:00.000+11:00

You will notice I specially designed a "muffboxfilms" t-shirt at cafepress with a "stop internet censorship" slogan on the back - well, this image and shirt has been on cafe press since 2004, I started my cafepress shop in 2003. Recently I designed a c-thong, that's a g-string with a "cock" picture on it. Cafepress immediately jumped on the image because it was against their guidelines, that being sexually suggestive full body nudity, well heck, let's be honest, it was a "raging cock". This was the only way they found out about my shop.

I think it is hilarious that:

a) this shirt says on the back "stop internet censorship"

b) I've had the same image on one shirt for two years, and they never noticed.

c) The image is hardly explicit, infact it is rather oblique unless you work out what it is. Even if you know what it is, it isn't obscene, it's a rather shy profile view of oral from behind. Gee, why is the world full of prudes. Gosh, ohhh, wouldn't want people to know that we all have sex from time to time.

d) Fair enough it is the cafe-press site and I guess I have to bow down to their rules and regulations but I love to bend the rules and wring the regulations.

Don't buy any t-shirts because they are all pending, and you can't anyway.

Other tad-bats for the day, I got another call from the ABC (That's Australian Broadcasting Corporation) or Aunty Jack if you are in the know. They have locked me down as stand-by yet again for the 6th of April. So I'm doing the 31st and the 6th as stand-by before I'm marked to go on the show on the 20th of April. I'll have been a standby contestant for five shows all up before I go on. Gee, I feel one of the family down at the ABC now. Uncle Rupert and Aunty Jack.

sexual proposal

2006-03-20T17:21:00.000+11:00

Dear madam,

I am the ex-slut of Hornsville. Recently I all the people of Hornsville have chartered a boat to the Vatican to mend their wicked, wicked ways. I am now left with over two million sperm in the bank and would like to deposit it in an off-shore vagina. This large amount of 'toza was left to me by the absence of the people of Hornsville, I have since had to go in hiding behind a computer screen to satisfy my enormous sexual hunger through reems of internet sites offering nudity.

I will assure you that this incredibly high libido will arrive safely in your bed, and then soon afterwards will revive itself to supply a continous amount of super-gasms every week.

I would pleased very be with your acceptance in helping me out.

Yours Sincerely
Rupert

(now I know this might not work considering people are sending similiar emails requesting money)

Charmed, I'm sure.

2006-03-19T02:13:00.000+11:00

Those folk who searched "muffbox films (Google)", "muffboxfilms.blogspot.com (Yahoo)", and "muffboxfilms (Yahoo)" I welcome you to the not "Muffy Jack Box" site, and trust your search was easy enough using those precise words.

Those folk who searched "penis lock box (MSN)", "Butcher's Maid (Yahoo)", and "hippy nudes (MSN)", I too hope that upon sliding in through this virtual box-o-muff that you at least found something if not the desired objects of your cyber-crawling fancy.

Tonight was night of much research, I watched "Alvin Rides Again", "Alvin Purple", "Inside Alvin" and a whole batch of interviews with Tim Burstall and crew. All meat for my feature film meal. I didn't realise but Geoffery Rush is in "Alvin Purple", hilarious to see him smutting about with tits 'n' arse way before he suited it up for a non-vibrating but entirely vibrant gold dildo that gets away with the pet name of Oscar, oh how those Hollywood types must play, I wonder how many have used their awards for sexual kink?

Dear Blog

2006-03-18T12:15:00.000+11:00

I have an audition on the 25th for "The Band" being shot by Poison Apple Productions, a local Melbourne team putting together erotic films in the vain of "Romance". This will be a fun melding of both the sex work and acting work I have done. Usually in the "pornography" work I have done, I would make up dialogue that I thought might be interesting, made some bloopers that still make me cringe, like when I caught "Naomi" on the beach masturbating and she asked me if I "wanted to fuck" - my response was "Yeah, yeah, I'm there".

Yesterday as I was walking along St Kilda, a girl walked out of a pub carrying two pots. She was wearing a loose long sleeved top. I was just casually oogling the scene, the busty bravado of St Kilda can be a veritable booby-trap. I didn't think anything of her in the voyeurism department by way of that what she was wearing well covered her body ... but that all changed when she bent down to place the beers on the table. Oh my, god will punish Rupert! That loosed top just swung open like a Sultan's tent, and for ten seconds I was roped into two gleaming white breasts hanging in full view, perfectly framed in my line of perspective. Cupped in a thin low riding black bra, all around me tanned cleavage conducted up to crescendo of flashy orchestrated fashion. But this natural cameo, held me breathless. Ah just a few seconds in one of my daily jaunts.

Everyone has been saying "hello" to me lately. Complete strangers. I don't know what vibe I'm giving off but yesterday, no fewer than five people felt the desire to say "hello". A middle-aged asian gent, a sun-baked babe in black, a tramp, and even a dog (as my son would have it). I have put it down to the cultivation of my Errol Flynn fluff above me watering hole. An experiment developed in aid of amusing the audiences of The Einstein Factor.

And now if you might not have known, Robert Frost wrote a couple of poems which were not overly brought into anthologies, why? Because they were suggestive. One was "The Subverted Flower", a woman visited Robert and asked him what the poem was about, to which Robert Frost replied "Frigidity in women", she left. I thought that an amusing picture, horny old Robert sitting there telling some person that he might be a renown poet but like everyone else he gets the urge to fuck as much as he can.

Another piece is "Putting In the Seed" to which a friend of Robert's was the only one at that time to really notice, his friend said, "I know what that's about."

A slight amusement.

2006-03-16T21:30:00.000+11:00

An extensive tour was to be had today of the Waterfront City Dockland Studios, where we got to peruse our future set location spaces, well not quite yet but the damn things were just so obviously empty, the last thing having been filmed there being Ghost... something featuring Nicholas Cage. But we were escorted around and the woman took notice of Travis and I because we were the only two in our class who seemed to know what direction we were going in with our work - but ...

On my ride home, exhausted from already having ridden some distance earlier that day, I came down to the lights of a main road. Ahead of me two cyclists were waiting at the lights and I noticed an exceptionally bright flash of thigh blossoming from a slit in the side of a blue skirt. Being that I often lull myself along if there happens to be something saucy around, for visual pleasure that adds to my day, I thought I would stop beside her and ride along the same route - perhaps perchance I might get more of a glimpse and so have sprinkled my life with just that extra bit-of-spice.

Well, as I came very close I looked up from that glowing thigh in the dusky light, and low and behold, it was Sabine on her bike. I laughed and told her that I had noticed her thigh before I had recognised her. At first I think she didn't really believe me, but then obviously having some indication about my wicked wicked ways, she cottoned on that this was indeed a case of me having sighted her bare legs before her very good self.

Lastly but not leastly, Travis and I on our final day of rough draft writing have completed the full rough draft of our feature script. Now begins the tweaking, turning, itching, and scratching of everything else that needs to be doen on the project.

The Sexual Revolution will not be televised.

2006-03-13T22:59:00.000+11:00

Sabine last night asked me about deep throating, I nearly choked. No, really I didn't choke, I just lay on the edge of my single bed, readied myself for a reply, and tried not to concern myself with falling off. I can't remember her exact question, it was late, I was tired, shagged out. We had fucked from the bed, to the desk, then on the chair, finally after a break to let our persperation evaporate, we fucked again. It was after this final fuck that she asked me about deep throating, I nearly gagged. No, really I didn't, but I think that's where her question was heading. I felt like Tom Waits in Coppola's Rumblefish as I chewed over her query.

"Deep throating is a funny thing" I said, no actually I never said that. I responded with a tiny tale about a girl I had been out with many years ago who decided to practice her "deep throating on me". Practice, because I guess it does need it. Ah that's right, she was asking just what it was exactly. I told her it was filling your whole mouth with cock until even it may coat your tonsils in pre-cum. "Feels good" I said because to me, well, it does.

"But do you gag all the time?" she asked. Deep throating is not something I've had all the time, and something I have done only a few times (I gagged - but the guy's cock was chunkier then curdled custard). So does a gagger at some time cease to gag?

Princely Cream

2006-03-11T02:52:00.000+11:00

Quick news flash. No, not a flash in the nude sense but it seems a documentary filmmaker has hunted Travis and I down and wants to make a documentary about our independent filmmaking capers. He sourced us from the net and is about to embark on a truthful/fictional journey of the lives of a couple of dunder-heads called Rupert and Travis, who at the moment eat/sleep/fuck/punch/love/drunk cinema. This will all be quite amusing, I've never had a doco made about me, apart from Travis and his "behind-the-scenes" doco he's making for class. One last exciting point, possibly we may have a producer for our feature film! Oh how things fall through in this industry, no breath holding. A friend of mine tried selling me as a "concept" to a porn distributor (remember the $10, 000 offer?), well apparently because I wasn't going to make "granny scat" porn, he just couldn't grasp the financial incentive of loading some dough in my pockets. But we try.

Above, you can see some torn undies of Sabines which I tore apart with my teeth to get access to her delicious cunt of which I savoured once all the lace was ripped away (warning: do not attempt this with polyester undies, a pulled tooth may dampen the mood somewhat), then we engaged in some cream play. I had so much french cream I woke up the next day not feeling 100%, then I had to clean and gut fish for tomorrows meal I'm going to serve up to Sabine which is Salmonetes Grelhados a Setubalense & Batatas fritas which translates to grilled red mullet Setubal-style and potato chips

We had just come home from a Terry Gilliam night we had over a friend's house. We watched "Brazil" and an interview with Terry Gilliam conducted by Salman Rushdie. I was impressed at how goofy Rushdie is. He wasn't a "flowery" speaker, instead he was a bit like me, stumped with descriptions/correctness of sentences and words in conversation. He talked about his early days working in advertising, completely different from the pipe-smoking affected writer his "look" might mistake him for. They talked about a buffet of projects that never got off the ground, the bucket full of ideas and concepts they slosh through, and even work that Rushdie had approached Gilliam to direct of his, of which Terry had knocked back. It was a very relaxed and real interview that ran for 54 minutes. Not unusually one of my favourite bits from it is when a coffee makes its way to Terry, his eyes light up, "Yes please" he says enthusiastically. Gilliam even mentioned "Tideland" not having a even a pre-production green light and looked to be filed. The film has since been completed.

Sabine and I got back home and played and played with cream, teeth, and fucking. It was a sweet send-off into that good night.

Challenge complete!

2006-03-10T11:09:00.000+11:00

Combining two challenges, I did, with Chelsea Girl's "failure" and Dark Neuro in collaboration with Shantoozy and Edels - this is the result:

"Failure in abstinence"

I got my bed yesterday and Sabine and I gave it a good going over. We tested every edge, and for a single bed, I think we did quite well. I'm still not happy with it, and am still seeking a double of which I feel suits me much better. This will do as a bridging snoozer.

Now a bit of webkeeping

2006-03-08T01:38:00.000+11:00

I have added a "friend's projects" section to Muffbox's blogroll where you can peruse the various websites of people I know who are asserting their creative wares in cyberspace. They do all kinds of stuff, from design, film, to experimental music. The share-page where snuffboxfilms is couching at, Son of Marshall Productions is also there. Until later on this year when the full snuffboxfilms site design is totally mapped and realised (and also when I got the spare cash to get me some server space).

Oh look it's Michael Palin!

2006-03-05T17:10:00.000+11:00

My late night blogging news.

2006-03-05T05:03:00.000+11:00

I am tired. It is 5:03am. I just finished a shot list containing 75 shots to be storyboarded tomorrow. Thank-gord Sabine is doing it. I have "walk against want" at 9:30am in the morning and then rehearsals with actors at 1:30pm. The shoot is officially tomorrow. The set is not far off. The actors will be primed.

I am set for my blogging challenge.

Did some culture jamming stuff today at five Starbucks stores. Handed out flyers and cds which had my spoken word track "KFC is a Muthafucka". Speaking of, next weekend I record fifteen tracks of my spoken word album "Beside the point". I am rehearsing with the band this Wednesday. I am looking forward to tackling this side project as well as shooting two video clips for the band as payment the following weekends.

I finished reading a couple of small Flynn bindings, "Errol Flynn: The Tasmanian Story" and Errol Flynn in Northampton" - watched "The Adventures of Barry McKenzie" last night and noticed that not only does Barry use the phrase "In like Flynn" in one of the scenes where he's bragging about the potential of shagging a hippy, but they also use the phrase in the title song.

I better lay my head to rest for the jump start this morning.

A general housekeeping post

2006-03-04T11:45:00.000+11:00

Sabine has been somewhat snap happy and has taken a series of cock pictures, one of which she has posted on her blog Leopards Love. The photo is also her desktop picture too. The other night I was so tired but so horny, as I lay in bed, and she was busy doing work on her computer, I had to yell out "Sabine!" In she came, rushing with slight concern maybe, "What's up?" she said.

"Can you lube yourself up and sit on my cock for a while" I said. "That's the best offer I've had all day" she replied, doing as she was asked.

Of course, it is amazing how tiredness turns to a raging whirlwind of fuck energy once you've recharged your cock batteries, and so on her request to be tied up. I grabbed the rope from my dressing gown and bound her hands rather tightly. Then I weaved her legs through her arms and had her locked in a position she couldn't get out of.

I then pasted on some fresh lube, massaging my cock and her cunt, watching in the mirror I have placed next to her bed, her exposed arse (as she was still wearing a flimsy dress)- once I was hard enough to make a dramatic entry, I slid my cock inside, and pushed all my weight down on her curled body, and gripped her hair, holding her head down firm on the pillow. Letting my hips buck only, keeping my whole body terse and securely clamped.

I fucked her, moved her, fucked her, shifted her, until lying in a breathless state of submission, I let her draw in the experience, I stood over her, "oh no, my nice clean dress" she said jokingly, "oh yes, I'm afraid" I said, and shot an excessive amount of cum across her figure. Then rubbing it in to the profile of her thigh and buttock, she was soon released, and I? Well, anticipating that this would tire me out, relaxed but didn't fall asleep, couldn't, got a second damn wind of energy, I'd been up since 6:30am, had a blazing full day at two universities, finally sleep came.

We ended up browsing the various swinger's parties online, spending some time seeing which will be the first of Sabine's experiences.

A Sexy Challenge

2006-02-26T19:54:00.000+11:00

Yes, it's that time of year again. Not that I ever have done this before unless you count the "hey give me some pic ideas" post you see here and here when Ell from Wilful Damage sugested I demonstrate the difference between "frog" and "cowgirl".

What I want is someone to set me a sexy challenge and I'll do it. Not only will I perform this task which could be anything as wild as ride naked down a busy street wearing only a bowler hat to masturbate on top of one of the highest buildings in Melbourne - but I will also photograph it and blog the evidence. Now it doesn't have to be some mad feat, it could be as simple as attempting to shoot my cum into my own mouth, or photograph my arse squishing a chocolate cake. And it doesn't have to be silly either, it could be recline naked under a lemon tree or put my foot between breasts. WHATEVER!

So get thinking, and I'll lose a few inhibitions in the meantime.

A smuttering of chit-chat

2006-02-24T12:18:00.000+11:00

Sometimes I gasp at my own endurance. This week whether it be racing on my bike from South Yarra early in the morning to Coburg with only an hour then to race to Elsternwick (ABC Studio stand-by contestant work), to coming up with the multitude of ideas that need to be implimented for my creative designs, to tweaking a dozen small technical and artistic projects at Uni, to masturbating and having sex, reading my books, looking after my son, and writing a new feature with my writing/filmmaking collaborator Mr Sutherland, and all the preparations needed for my own feature work going into production in a little over a month. Exhaustive? Damn right. But I think that any artist worth their mead, rises to meet the challenges of the "grain going against oneself" and not the idea of "going against the grain" nor putting life down simply being a "my grain". (A wonky bad pun).

I am lucky. My next shooting exersise will be on a new high definition camera being purchased by my Uni in the next couple of weeks. This will be the first time I have used high definition and certainly the first time our Uni technicians and lecturers have actually had to deal with the new technology for production purposes. I am slightly excited by having first crack at this digital process, and being first off the boat at my University to glean the pixels of a fresh toy.

I went to my first Vixen meeting. A peer support group for Sex Workers here in Victoria. The group was small but I think the agendas are quite reactionary as far as bringing the oldest profession in the world up to scratch with all the other industries running today.

Finally, Sabine and I are attending Saints and Sinners with very special costumes, but I shall wait until afterwards to blog the pics.

Handycuffs

2006-02-18T16:52:00.000+11:00

I like a little BDSM every now and then when masturbating. Ah, at last, have internet on at home, have mobile phone again, apart from missing one major faculty of my fornicating follies - a bed! Time is passing and I am about to give a friend of mine a haircut, "Can I come to Seville" he always says when in need of my services. Now I don't profess to be the best hair-cutter in the world. Infact every cut I give friends, they are always commented on by other people along the lines of - "You look just like Rupert" or "Why did you get the same cut Rupert has"? Indeed, my menu of scissoring is fairly limited.

More soon. For he has arrived.

Back again. What was this post about? Oh yes, a portion of kink in one's masturbatory habits. I've indeed tried being quite creative in my masturbation methods. I remember once, at the not so tender age of eighteen, strapping myself into a chair, and like a wanking harness, I rocked and rolled my foreskin (or what's left of it) until I had reached a suitably experimental climax. But was this post post about hairdressing or cockfluffing? It might also be about the new role I seem to have over the next few months as a "standby" contestant. Indeed, I am to be one for a total of four tapings of the Einstein Factor before I go on for real.

Hoping of course that no-one gets cold feet or the urge to lock themselves in the bathroom, flapping off a quizz show fetish, and thus missing that all important moment of going on-air.

I am also attending my first meeting of Vixen, next week, a group of "sex workers" who want to explore other areas of their profession. I am very happy about this because I have been wanting to find a way into the surrogacy field ever since my ex-partner and I ended our trist of live sex show work. Bizarre story, when I picked up this new/used mobile phone, I noticed the contact list was still intact. They had forgotten to erase all their contacts before they sold the phone, and low and behold, I came across the name "naomi" - couldn't be, I thought, but on checking the number, yes, it was that very same number. I just bought one of my ex-client's phones. How's that?

Speaking of ex-client. I have been experiencing that feeling of eroticaless fatigue, my mind swimming over the many things I want to do in my life. Creative sexual urges that manifest deep in the pit of my, not armpit, but that seated grooved "wear out your pants" dry fucking kind of urge. I do find the majority of the human race so non-faustus. Hey, I'm cueing up for my plate of sin. The line is small, but the wait long, where are the damn volunteers?!

I was thinking the other day about Chelsea Girl's tip jar, and by all means. have a tip really, please do, I haven't yet, but am going to and I think her blog is worth every penny and more. Her blog is very good and in my life I am tipping her often although a different tip altogether. A rather fleshy one. I however, must skip the small change and am asking for an outright one or two million dollars. Anyone who can provide this exorbitant amount will recieve ... satisfaction?

It spins me right 'round

2006-02-13T17:17:00.000+11:00

Just for the record I thought I'd try my cock out as a stylus, I can't really remember what LP was playing but I'm sure it was something like "penis grooving greats from the eros era" or "willy doit and the vinal frontiers" - it was a 33 inch not a 45 unfortunately but never-the-less it was certainly long-playing.

boh-dandy cock-o-graph

2006-02-10T16:41:00.000+11:00

Greetings from the fireplace of a near boh-dandy residence, I'm sure if it were blazing this fire would melt my cockles, or at least cause some severe puckering. But the weather here does not permit such joyful moments as sipping port (or our cheaper red wine equivelent) beside the burning furnace.

Yesterday I had my first session as a stand-by on the ABC's Einstien Factor quizz show. It was amusing to see the reaction of the audience as the warm up guy asked me what my topic was to be, "The life and times of Errol Flynn" I said, to which all the old ladies who made up most of the crowd, began to coo, "Oh", "Ah", "Oooooh". I probably drafted up much nostalgic feelings of bygone arousal from darken theatre's where they had sat admiring and dreaming of Errol's tights.

Peter Burns, the host, was hilarious and mucked about like a naughty kid on set, and between pick-ups, making the most of his job which really isn't too difficult, but he gets by just being a "host", and well frankly, very good at it.

I have added my rating system to muffbox thanks to the suggestion by Always Aroused Girl so that I can make Virgin Sluts day, everyday. On her site she has a very useful item for if you read any of our sites and feel decidely unclean for having done so.

Doing time for censorship

2006-02-08T14:03:00.000+11:00

Can you believe it. I am sitting here at Matchworks, a job network provider, over qualified and bored shitless, when I think to add Russ Meyers to my artists blogroll on muffbox. Now I can access muffbox but funnily so, the Matchworks internet/browser filter does not allow me to access Russ Meyer's Official webpage - stating the obvious - adult content. Adult content, why yes, this is Russ Meyers not The Wiggles. Why not then filter jobseeking sites, some of these advertise for pole dancers and phone sex workers. Why does Russ Meyers get banned when John Waters doesn't? Isn't John just as wonderfully filthy and depraved, or are we aiming for grades of depravity?

Do they not know that muffbox is rated < R > upert, a new rating I am giving to creative smut. So, all I can do is sigh once again at the ridiculous nature of our powers that want to be. I'm an adult and have the right to view adult material I would think. Anyway people here are more likely to be looking up "Big Boobed Bikini Babes on Buttered Bread" then they are going to be looking at Russ Meyers.

Roger Ebert how many stars would you give this situation?

Sex in every room - pics

2006-02-06T10:36:00.000+11:00

Here are two pics selected from our room to room romp. I am mid-house at the moment. Doing the tramp thing until Wednesday - having lots of bendy, trammelled sex with Sabine who likes to be contorted and clenched. Sometimes I feel like I've got to be thorough, get the juices seeping from stimulating all the nooks. It has been good.

Have been thinking a lot lately about fantasies and swinging, getting that "lustwander" so to speak. Wanting something extraordinary to spring from the often trickling stream of the human subconscious. Wanting to walk into a room with lots of people fucking and fuck my senses silly. I guess this is that time of month for me. Where I either see the potential in creating debaucheries. Why don't they happen enough? Sometimes I think if all the world is a stage, then we are certainly not experiencing Shakespeare.

I wonder often why sex is still a subject of much concern for people. The thing they hide away in the underwear draw. As with the term "sex life". What? We have two lives do we? A "life" and a "sex life". From this angle, the term is problematic. Our sexual side is as much a part of the whole as anything else. Why do we need to seperate it like that. I don't walk into the bedroom and say to the world, "see you later, I am going into my sex life now".

I don't have a "sex life", I have a life with lots of sex in it, just as I don't have a "reading life", a "writing life", a "washing the dishes life", or a "where did I leave my house keys life". I guess that lots of people do see their sexual side as something which only concerns others to a point, therefore discussions are only had under moments of comfortability or appropriate times. The rest is hidden away under particles of desires, thoughts, fantasies etc. Only ever seeing the light of day in the most private of discourses.

Sabine's Blog

2006-02-02T14:45:00.000+11:00

After much thought - of which I am completely capable of mind you - I have decided to link Sabine's blog to muffbox. There is always, for me anyway, a process in deciding whether cross blogging between partners is a good thing. It especially comes down to whether or not you know a person satisfactorily enough to allow for open communication between oneself and the world at large. Simply because no-one wants to pull a blog out of the blogsphere because some personal troubles infect your tidy/untidy portion of cyberspace. Also freedom to express the whatevers, the howevers, and the ever whyevers needs breeze enough to air.

I am a cautious fellow, have been ever since I wasn't which was during my second serious relationship with a dark haired vixen called Tabatha who was also a kind of free-dealing spirit in drugs, drink, gambling, and cheating. Me? A silly young chap who would do anything for this person including pretending to be her brother in order to ward off a guy she chose to drunkenly kiss in front of me (the effect had its merit when I turned around and kissed Tabatha, the guy was repulsed to see such incest so blatantly flung into his receding gaze).

So, for better or for worse, here is Leopards Love - enjoy.

Dial an orgasm

2006-01-25T17:43:00.000+11:00

Phone sex is such a funny thing. One of those sexual activities that can either leave you with a stain of dispair on your mind or the burning sensation of having just had one's ears thoroughly pricked by the winding words of lust from the plastic ear cushion. I had a very interesting phone sex experience.

I initially struck a chord with this woman because she had an indepth knowledge about classical composers. Don't ask me how we got onto the subject. I think I was trying to explain how I didn't think the term "classical" was appropriate for describing the music of Bach, Beethoven, Handel etc. She started on recommending some Mendel pieces and Pachabel also.

I asked her what the deal was with this chat service and she told me it was only the softcore one. So after having passed onto me her private code and a new number to call. I proceeded with the hardcore service.

It took me ages to navigate my way around all the intros, and I got one woman who was not Jenna (her name) and so when I returned to the main menu, the next girl I got through to I falsified a name, it was Francis, I was thinking Francis Bacon, don't know why. Maybe because I was drunk.

Anyhow I recognised the voice and realised I had gotten in touch with Jenna. She specialised in fantasies, and she asked me if I liked them. Like them! I love a good fantasy, especially a relayed story.

The story went like this. She was a girl who lived across the road from my house, her name was Jeniffer. Every morning I would come out and collect the mail, and so she would see me doing this everyday. We had both noticed each other but hardly had an excuse to meet. One day my mail had been accidently delivered to her letter box. She came around, I offered a drink, she lay on a recliner revealing from within her incredibly short blue skirt an inviting pubis.

It was hot weather and she asked me to remove my shirt. She then went to the bathroom and came back naked. Oral followed but my time finished, and so I had to repeat the fantasy until I came without the guidance of Jenna.

I called her back just to chat because she had been to pleasant. As it turned out she was a big fan of Douglas Adams and so we chuckled about Hitchhikers and other books. She was 52 with a very young sounding voice and she had to get all her books on audio because she was also blind.

It was a fantastic session. Sometimes afterwards I think that I would certainly call that same person back but then again, the good one's are the one's who make you feel that way. That's why they get the bucks and you get the phone bill.

Sex in every room - tick.

2006-01-23T14:41:00.000+11:00

Sabine and I took the opportunity the other day to have sex in every room of a house. We started in a lounge room, tackling a large sofa, with me draped over the back rest and she straddling either side, one leg kneeling on the cushions the other extended to the ground. After a while we circumnavigated the room, crawling across furniture and along the floor, still fucking, remaining attached.

Sabine crawled to the other living room with me joined from behind following. Once we reached our destination, I rose and began fucking her from behind in the European fashion - oh so pleasant when bike legs keep one firmly stable in mid-air with great ease. Then we continued our crawl to a large reclining chair. Sabine swung around and plonked herself down, her legs hooked up on the arm rests - and skin slapping sonic fucking proceeded, knocking down a pile of papers behind the chair.

Our journey continued to the kitchen where I sat down and she gave me oral as I held taut her long hair and ran my nails up her back. I directed us then to the bathroom and positioning her in front of the mirror, from behind I orchestrated a Cello move, by me fucking her and strumming her clit as she leaned on tippy toes watching in the body sized reflection. We parked our arses on a small chair in the bathroom and with my knees on a pile of towels, just at the right height for my cock to cradle inside her at a leisurely pace, as we kissed and talked about how lucky the neighbours are to be able to spy this kind of thing, and how if it were me who was a neighbour of a randy couple I'd probably miss the whole thing, too busy making a cup of coffee.

Then it was a game of chasing tail or skirt, as Sabine darted off and I ran after her. We ducked and dived behind walls, through entrances, brief moments of capture, then hurling ourselves off again. Round and round the kitchen table, rather like a couple of dandies in an R rated version of one of Shakespeare's moments of woo. "For if I have you my love, me doth think I shall need a stiff one".

Finally I had her, and we formed our two person daisy chain and fucked onwards to another room, this room wasn't so interesting and we pistoned our steaming sex engines to the stairs. Sabine, leg on bannister and my mouth gulping her fragrant cunt with much delight I must say.

Pics to come.

"Realising Sigmund" away ... !

2006-01-13T16:13:00.000+11:00

That's just about it folks, final edit has been completed, and on Monday I do post-sound with a five piece blue-grass band led by a mad banjo player who sometimes goes by the name of Chook. Up above is a still from the film, the climax, so to speak. I won't spoil the story, everyone will have to wait and find out when they see it. The male actor in the photo is none other then the idyller Mr Daisy Gutter who has now found himself an outlet for all his creative acting talent through the devious developments of Mr Owen and Mr Sutherland, hombre's behind the Son of Marshall/Snuffboxfilms collaboration and heavy drinking sessions.

Right now I'm editing one of my postcard films called "60 Second Relief" and it is the first time I have ever edited porn as such. So, I might keep a longer version of the film as well as the "real" version. I am enjoying the process of editing "play" as porn is notorious for jump cuts, I have purposefully added the jump cuts but it does the opposite of what a jump cut would normally do, and instead of fixing a continuity problem or adding to it, it instead makes the continuity.

I kid you not ...

2006-01-10T15:30:00.000+11:00

When I tipped out my muddled pasta (using two different packets that once combined had enough to feed the household) this is what was left stuck at the bottom of the pan. A phallic phenomenon of primo piatto proportions, a lovely doughy reminder that later that evening I should have sex. A sign! Or just a contingency of left-over pasta in the design of a winding cock. Would Pro Hart have used it in his explicit series of canvass muckamuck? Most likely.

I was reading through Virgin Slut yesterday and came across her post regarding writing in the past-tense and the reduced speed of her posting because of the acceleration of her sex life. Interestingly enough, I find writing about my sex life very hard. Talking about it not so much. Especially since working with concepts of desire and lust, smothering them with erotic or sexy observations can be a challenge.

Probably all of my more outlandish voyeurism experiences have been moments I look upon fondly with amusement. Like leading a trail of about four people underneath a bed to listen to a couple on top making out. Or my friend and I sitting in a darkened room listening to a couple, when suddenly the lights turned on as a pack of people entered the room, so we pretended we were taking drugs and then people totally ignored the fact that we were in the room and instead wanted to know if we had any for them. Funnily enough I have always had other friends who enjoy it too.

Let's do lunch and talk nouveau smut

2006-01-07T15:30:00.000+11:00

Yesterday I felt like a big player. Sitting in busy St Kilda eating some kind of highly crafted scrambled eggs and double-strength coffees. I had just secured the venue for my feature film, two weeks of usage, mates rates, with promotional extras. We sat talking about Indie Porn. What is Indie Porn? The nouveau smut of the brand new millennium - and an area that creatively comes natural to me. I liken it to crossing vintage erotica with BDSM stuff. Adding an Andy Warhol edge to its production, working concepts as well as flesh, it's anything that isn't glossy or erotic with trimmed production values, or at least that is where my mind cares to stretch my definition of it.

Basically it is "Suicide Girls" and Melbourne's own "Beautiful Agony". This is acceptable, creative porn and it will find it's way, and already is, into arty well layed out magazines with slick articles on Germaine Greer to Kathy Acker to Iggy Pop to Roald Dahl. And it is an area I am very interested in from a creative view. I already have one web project in waiting, and why do I mention this?

I mention this because my lunch today saw a potential $10,000 being put in my pocket to make my half hour Indie Porn Comedy. I feel like I'm at that card table again, looking at my hand, hoping that I can keep my mind on the game. But wouldn't it be great! The script is one or two pages off completion and if I don't say so myself, I think it is darn funny.

An added bonus to this lunch was the introduction to at least one talent, a girl who wants to do porn badly - apparently she was talking to my friend saying things like "Oh I still smell really strong from the sex I was having last night" and "Gee there are so many boys at this party I'd love to fuck" - and the further assistance of scouting more by way of a promotional event down the track where my project will be privately auctioned to willing participants.

Now where's my cigar?

Seal of approval

2006-01-05T17:39:00.000+11:00

Here is some candle play with Sabine's bottom as the target for drippings of hot wax. It was first time she had experienced this sensation, and I made sure her buttocks were well massaged with oil before tipping the wax. I was trying to mark it with my special "Rupert Seal" which allows any rump the royal approval from any throne one wishes to seat it upon.

Last night Sabine and I were going to rent an erotic film but ended up watching "Hedwig and the angry inch", an unusual flick by John Cameron Mitchell on the matress spread out on the loungeroom floor. The film was interesting and I'm not sure I can formulate an oppinion on it it yet - save to say it isn't any more unusual then my own "Realising Sigmund" which I have been hard at work editing all this week. Long days in post cutting, cutting, and cutting.

We got it down to ten mintues after having cut heaps, and finally my editor today with a butchering index finger managed to trim it to seven. Hard decisions to make when you've spent a good deal of time coming up with lines only to realise that alas alack, they must be deposited back into the mind to be used another day on another project in a different context.

I have also been completely snowed under with bureaucracy, that "struggle unto death" as Valentin Katayev would have it in his short satirical piece. What with moving house, locking in my extra degree, getting my feature up to production NEXT MONTH! and editing off a few finer pieces. I have also been cleaning up the old desk in the head for new ideas that will implode over the next few months.

I have been battling a bit of depression too, which is no good, I understand its new form which is fearfully tipping me into the manic depressive category, as recently over the past year, I know I am getting depressed because a few days before hand my mind will work hyper-fast shooting out thoughts and ideas, and generally elevating my being to profound levels of self-assertiveness. Possibly the next phase in my ever developing breed of "black dog".

The Swinging Nows

2005-12-29T16:15:00.000+11:00

I showed Sabine Louis Theroux's "Weird Weekends" documentary on swinging the other night as a way of a basic introduction to the feel of a swinger's party. I don't think it was the best way to go about it as the impression it set in wasn't entirely favourable but oh well, it is an amusing documentary none-the-less and louis has a very casual view of attending a party for the first time until he gets nervous at the door and at one stage is sitting on a chair feeling as if "the party is passing him by", one feeling that I myself felt at the second swing party I went to.

I think that swinging is a big step for any couple and one where both parties have to be absolutely sure it will suit, otherwise it may not only rock the boat but tip it over. May not only tip the boat over, but also sink it. Possibly just lop side it or just wet the tally-ho of an unsteady pirate.

On Christmas day we helped the poor at the Tiger's Football Club in Richmond by serving food and conversation, which did my spirit the world of good, and then I headed back to my son's house with his mother and my cousin for turkey and vodka oyster shooters.

I am getting ready to move house within the next month and so things will be pretty busy, as well as all the post next week for "Realising Sigmund". That's the problem with these busy times, I feel like I am repeating myself. I have been enjoying every Blogger's comment and reading through my Blogroll when I get the chance to kick back at Uni with a cup-of-joe.

I am looking forward to some right royal sexual adventures in the new year when I can muster them up between dashing from one University to another, finishing off degrees by ... degrees?

So, I hope that every Blogger I know and those I don't, have a strappingly kinky brilliant new year - and when I am settled and have more direction I shall bring to Muffbox a whole lot of debauched behavior in sassy html and punitive platters of pixels!

KINKY NEW YEAR ...

Relationships

2005-12-19T15:52:00.000+11:00

I have been thinking about relationships recently - especially since I have been observing the many varied types my friends endure. Endure, funny word, but I don't use it in its literal sense, more of the endurance of time and the ever changing nature of coupleship. Now I have always had manic, slurring, crumpled affairs with partners, almost back to back, with no reprieve. Reprieve, funny word, but I don't use it in its literal sense, more a distinction of relationship time. I've always enjoyed the many flavoured variety of my partners - the strange cats, the oddballs, the straight laced, the classics, the lurkers, the firecrackers, the lazy susans, the fun buckets, the wild berries, hot heads, kooky nuts, playful ticklers, serene dreamers, and more. But when does one define a relationship? Things end like that sometimes. One day you think someone has already bought that pack of Bridge Cards, and then suddenly they are not together anymore.

I have been thinking this for two reasons. One is that many of my friends around me, being that time is ticking, are formulating ideas of ritualistic committment and children even. Now I've got a son. A lovely son. The best one I could ask for. I don't really think about it much. I think about him alot, but not that I've got a seven year old. He's my friend. A biological genetic connection that also happens to be my friend. His mum still makes me laugh, she can be hilarious.

The second reason is that I am at that stage with Sabine where I am wondering if the creases of what I want and the lines of what is happening are definite in my mind. I guess you can't really know once you have set foot inside a relationship. It is hard to look out of it. That's why we bring it up in conversation to friends and they offer advice or just listen to the potentially cycling prattle of one who ultimately will have to make their own judgements.

Letting it flow. Hmmmmmmm. I don't think I really align myself with the "letting it flow" principle. I mean I am all for it. And if things are good, letting things flow can be very worthwhile, but often, flowing doesn't always remain consistent. For instance one may allow a relationship just to flow but anytime you start wanting the flow to just dissipate then a bloody maelstrom starts up.

Thinking too hard about it. I don't like this either. It's a trap of self reflexive self-analytical codswallop. I'm a writer, I have a "life of the mind", the more I cram in it the more bloated it gets, and I have just to lie down somewhere, preferrably on a towel hoping to get picked up by a space-ship with a infinity drive built in.

Balance. I don't balance. I'm too light to balance. A light person should balance but a light person is prone to getting swept away. I get bored with balance. I like tension.

Now, I have exhausted my interest in writing about relationships, so I will finish this post with a silly experience I had once.

Once upon a time, that time being 5am, I dialled a phone sex number, and got onto a woman who began enthusiastically with something like "Hey there darling what are you doing"?

"I'm masturbating" was my quick reply. I mean really, what else was I going to say to a phone sex operator. "Well, actually, I'm in the middle of doing the dishes, mind if I call you back"!

Anyway, I wanted a quick session. I didn't have the time nor money to blow on phone sex, so lets just get the show on the road.

I asked her if she could describe a fantasy she might have etc etc. She began with something like "OH lick my pussy, ah, ah, ah" then I continued with my next bit, "What if I turned you around so you could suck my cock whilst I submerged my tongue inside you etc etc". I was beating my cock into gear with where this could possibly go when suddenly I heard nothing.

"Hello?", I said, "Hello?" I said. Nothing. Then the subtle sounds of snoozing came through the reciever. SHE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP. So I hung-up, called the same service. Got the same woman. Same thing happened. Thought to myself I would call another service. Called another service. Got to about the same point. This time the girl acknowlegded the fact that she was sleepy. "How about this" I said in final frustration, "You just quickly describe to me a fantasy, something easy, then I can come and you can go back to sleep". What did she do. She was so tired she dropped the phone and once again I was privy to gentle rustles of sleepy snores.

The lesson learnt. Do not call a phone sex worker in the morning. If you are working in phone sex, unless you are up, do not do the graveyard shift.

Waggling wangs that go boing.

2005-12-13T15:20:00.000+11:00

A few new things to update on Muffbox - T shall now be known as Sabine, a name she came up with recently because we were looking for a nom-de-plume in order to disguise her famousness. Or rather almost famousness if it were to be known who T really actually is. This pic is the last in my lush series. Sabine is going to help me take some shots tomorrow night hopefully.

I discovered on my mobile phone a wireless kommunity called Kink. I am in deep, deep trouble as the Bart Rap might express. It is a file sharing community of which I plunged into last night, and it consists of rather saucy tit-bits sent in by mobile phone users on 3. You can also access it online at the above link, so now this is where mobile phones become devilish little devices for voyeurs because anytime and anywhere, one can get that scopophilia feeling in one's pocket. On my first exploration of the site I went somewhat download crazy, by accident, but this is Phonebin except its the other way around.

Here is a rather silly poem about my sperm at one stage sticking like Araldite.Araldite is a structual adhesive, and this period of my life was an excersise in bonding if ever there was one.

Click below to listen to ...

My sperm stuck like Araldite

And on an end note. Last night my friend and I sat down with plates of fish and chips and watched pulp porn, the stuff that Private churns out. It was amusing as we critiqued it thoroughly. The Tudor like costumes and the ridiculous inclusion of tattoos which completely threw out the period feel. One shot was very good though but on the whole the action was messy in more ways then one. I could understand what the filmmaker was trying to achieve in the scene and it could have been very good if done properly and with some thought. For me there is something sexy about regal orgies performed in period court scenes but this particular one chucked together a bunch of actors with no flow of response to the imagery, the setting or the movement of bodies. The fish and chips were lovely though.

I'm ready for my close up ...

2005-12-09T15:48:00.000+11:00

As Oscar Wilde wrote "I can resist everything except temptation" and what a temptation life has summed up to me over the last half a day. Nothing tangible, I've just been in that zone where an orgy might help, or a sex resort. There is something about these periods where all my dreams revolve around sex. I wake up with sex on the brain. I walk around and my eyes can only see bodies that would be welcomed into some kind of debaucherous raunchery ... some "fine fuckeries" as the "good natured libertine" would say.

I got home today after crashing the night over at a friend's house, and before I took off from home I realised that I needed to masturbate. An urgent expulsion of sexual volcanic rumbling in the very core of my groin. I needed fast swizzles of nakedness, and so I grabbed my coffee and half smoked cigarette, ducked into my room, dropped my pants, loaded up a succession of voyeuristic amateur porn onto the Real-Player play list, and was so sensitive that only after a few vids, I came.

My cock remained rigid as I wedged it back into my pants, it pushed and strained at the fabric, and I wondered how long it would take before it went down.

These are days when I can barely concentrate on anything but sex, sex, sex. Not one of those days but one of THOSE days ...

The Royal We

2005-12-06T15:28:00.000+11:00

Here is I draped in one of our props from the shoot. We had a bumping clumping housewarming last Saturday with a big bowl of San Pedro punch and the theme "Outer-Sexy from Outer-Space" although only three people dressed up. My friend M wored a vinal bodice, fishnets, and a big bug hat, another friend S came as a space-cowboy, and I dressed up as a galactic-bicyclist in a purple slip, stack hat with a purple dildo stuck to it that lit up and vibrated my head when I needed a hit. The hat was passed around near the end of the night and it reminded me of the orgasm orb from Woody's "Sleeper". I also blew up some condoms and pinged them over to a set of four people lazing to our Japanese laptop DJ, they instantly took up a game of whack the inflated condom to each other until it burst, I blew up five all up, watching this amusing game continue with these wasted rubber tappers.

T is getting a Blog happening with one of her friends but until I have permission possibly to link it, the name shall remain mysterious for now. We talked further about popping along to a swinger's party last night. I actually had a friend, P, who organises swinger's parties call up and ask me about our housewarming party but he said, "Oh it's that kind of party". I was explaining to T how swinging is almost like a sexual drama that is played out for the night, you then take the left over experiences home with you to play with in your mind.

I suddenly came across some smut frustration in Jean-Paul's "The Reprieve", "Almond cream hands, deftly take hold of John Thomas, triumphant John Thomas, lazy, head drooping a little, as a butcher's maid takes a chitterling on its bed of jelly between her fingers. Quite naked. Split. Seen. A burst pod, it's spring. Hell!". I think that often as a writer one can almost be certain that if a novel veers into some explicit thought from an almost serenely non-sexual environment, you can be sure the writer has finished off the paragraph with a wank or otherwise.

It was funny, although I had three lovely girls performing for me in my film with risque dress, I didn't get the urge to be perverted in any way - I guess the creative process takes over and all becomes one and one becomes all.

My voyeurisms over the past few months have been varied. I was sitting on a tram and noticed a Porsche at the lights, the driver was examining some advertising on the side of the tram, so I leaned a little and peered over to the passenger seat where I spied the slope of a tanned breast revealed between a parted shirt. It was most pleasant but Porsches are by definition faster then trams and they burled off as I was left to contemplate catching them at the next set of lights but alas they turned left. I imagined myself racing up to the tram driver, "quick follow that Porsche", but no I returned to World War Two in Sartre's mind.

Rabbit on set

2005-12-05T13:30:00.000+11:00

It has been a high tailed fling over the past few months. Finally we had the shoot over two days and I am back although still restricted to doing my blogging from uni, so somewhat sluggish in my output - but that will change. This was the largest crew I have as yet worked with. We had two make-up artists, a hair stylist, eleven crew members all up and seven actors. Everything swung well, only two kafuffles entailing an actor who had to leave early and an extraneous shot that was taking up too much time. Oh and twice I heard the 1st AD yell, "Rabbit on set", I pushed aside the curtain I was monitoring the shoot behind to see Floppy casually hopping across the cables and feet of the crew.

There is still a lot more work to do in post but I will hopefully bring some sexual adventures to Muffbox. I am enjoying lots of sex, apparently it has been proven by a massive research study that creative types are more sexual, this relates to some article T cut out of the paper recently.

A few things in pipeline. Hopefully some more photos. Perhaps a swingers party. But christmas is coming also and isn't it always the manic period.

SMS Sex

2005-11-28T12:33:00.000+11:00

T and I had some txt message fun last night before she continued on writing her essay and I focussed on watching "I love you, Alice B. Toklas" - what proceeded was this ...

Me - "when we see each other next I will suck and bite u in all the best places until u r writhing in my grip and then I will have u with your sexy arch quavering and my cock dripping with your juices"

Her - "Mmmm - I'll b on knees backing up 2 u slowly rotating pelvis - sometimes pulling out a little so u can see ur cock going deep + coming out w sticky warm honey + vanilla cream - then I'm going 2 tie u up + make u watch me playing with my pussy til u r so hard it hurts - then let u pleasure me till we both ahhhh"

Me - "brace my tongue between yor thighs and rock yor body against my face, as I am tied, I will feed off your delicious taste, licking-sucking, u can do anything to my cock it will crave your touch so badly"

Her - "I will b palpitating ur cock senses by alternating cooling my mouth w ice cubes then warm tea all the while tasting u + teasing u w little nips on ur shaft + balls then starting slowly drawing my teeth along ur cock faster, deeper sucking the end - u straining at the binds me lowering my sex 2 ur face"

Letters Think

2005-11-23T14:22:00.000+11:00

I went through a whole bundle of letters last night. What was I searching for? Inspiration? Reprieve from this depression that comes in dribbles and has been taunting me for a week now? Bundles of letters. Love letters. Notes. Cards. Pillow notes. Morning notes. Long letters from friends. Letters from people who have come and gone. Lost friends. People who wrote such helpful and beautiful things, now distant memories but their words re-read a few times every couple of years. One friend wrote in a letter to me “people go, people come, possessions had, possessions lost” and we can’t keep everything for all the time. There is a bit of sadness in that.

So these letters kept pouring wisdom from my past. Things I had said to people that helped them, and things people offered me when I sought their help. Another friend had offered me the advice that all will be well in our old age “kind whores and schnapps” he had written.

Two lovers from varying periods had written that they would keep on giving ‘love’ until I was ready to accept it. Then a barrage of “can’t live without you”, “Never felt this way about anyone before”, all torments for a letter reader of past ghosts especially if that letter reader is a writer. The incriments of my son’s kooky drawings and carved big crooked words of love were welcomed relief.

It’s funny to read those who were younger in those days, now older, and how their head-spaces and thoughts relate so closely to the letters of people who are around that age now that I happened to have gone out with. It’s also strange to see that in our more intimate expressions, the verve of acceptance, tolerence for the wild, soulful, adventurous, the relishing of curiosity, the beam of enthusiasm for the moment – fades as the same hoplessly hopeful and alert people become more congealed. When perusing letters, one can see all the tang and freshness begin to waft in time with some folks present states of being. Not for this mischievous Goblin!

Some original phrasings lighten things. Like one girl who I had an upstairs/downstairs thing happening with another girl, used to sign off her letters “Yours Whenever” and she also described that her elbow was resting as she wrote the letter in a ‘wet patch’ on the brown couch we had obviously recently just fucked on. To start a letter with “I’m so happy it’s disgusting” is amusing, and then there are the mad highschool letters with such classic lines as “I haven’t heard from you in ages. I heard you got grounded” and “On Monday people were changing my vandalism. (I was in R.I. – religious instruction). Instead of it saying J loves Rupert, it said J hates Rupert. I got so pissed off that I kicked Jono in the balls & slapped Kirk across the face” – I always wondered if she had actually done that.

So ends a periodical round trip journey through the communications of before, before there was this, me now. It helps, like flicking through old photos, remember them, before one needed a picture viewer to see them. Life in review. It connects the tracks again, and gets the carriages moving to the next stop. Thought I’d share it on Muffbox anyway.

Zoom zip and I wake up.

2005-11-21T15:48:00.000+11:00

I hope to be back online at home within the week, or just over. Hectic 9 days before shooting and we've been really trying to pull everything together - so pardon the breathful emptiness of Muffbox lately. Tomorrow Toxic Lash is going to capture a cock shot using a pinhole camera. I am excited and interested to what she has in mind.

T and I have been toying with toys, ropes, and cuffs. And a little bit of daring outside fucking down the grassy slope of a party held in the country. Walking off, away from the nattering crowd, blanket strewn over the shoulder - hmmmmmm, where should we fuck?

We also came up with a neat fantasy game, where we both create a story and pass it on to each other at night. We touch and play, as the story unfolds. Last night the story went a little something like this...in a nutshell.

A woman has been going to a cafe regularly, as with a man. They both sit at opposite sides of the cafe. He reads his book there everyday, and she applies her make-up. The book he is reading is quite a saucy novel but he disguises it with a false dustjacket. He notices her come in and she watches him through her make-up mirror. The book he is reading is about a woman's sexual adventures travelling, her conquests and sensual fucks across the way. As it turns out she is the author of the book looking for her next erotic experience but she doesn't know he is reading her book and he doesn't know she is the author.

There is another man there eating 'bangers and mash', and he thinks to himself, 'I'd like to bang her' (this was our comic relief character as if you couldn't tell).

She sits there squeezing her thighs together noticing that the man reading the book has his fly pinned together, his cock (or rather we were comically creating quite ridiculous titles for it) peeped through a tad, pressing against the cold steel of the safety pin. She gets up and goes off to the bathroom.

The man reading stands up and the other man says, 'nice sausage', and although he is talking about his 'bangers and mash', the reading man takes it that his cock is visible and promptly covers himself as he follows the girl.

The girl ends up in the male toilets, scribbles, 'I suck cocks' followed by a phone number and a crude drawing of a penis. We figured that maybe this was the reason this phrase is so frequently written in male toilets.

She eventually finds herself in the next toilet and he ends up in there with her eating her cunt, as she leans against the bathroom wall. The 'bangers and mash' guy ends up in there too, and he fucks her from behind. It all got rather sticky, by this stage I had let T go on with the tale as I allowed for her touch to take me away, and her words to keep me going.

Around my porn in a post.

2005-11-15T23:43:00.000+11:00

I was thinking of Beauty whilst considering writing this post, why beauty, because she is full of it, beauty that it is. Initially my porn journey began, as many a young man's might have begun, with 'check-out chicks', sounds outrageous, but I truly had a thing for voluptuous women behind counters, why? Is there a serving element to one's relationship with a smiley girl who is selling products or just the fact that many wear button up shirts that happen to be partially see through?

Anyway, my first ideal girlfriend, or dream girl was not that. That is another story. One of freckles and swings. This story begins with desire. A girl at a check-out. I remember her well. I would have been six. She had long black hair. Rosy cheeks. She was wearing that shirt which allowed for a peep of a lacey bra willowing from behind as each item was breezed across to the basket.

From that day onward it was Rebecca at my primary school, the freckled lass who was covered in freckles and became famous in grade two for having scooped a portion of poo on her finger for our pure disgust. I loved Rebecca, because she had pigtails and was brazen, she didn't like me, I was a limpy clown.

Beyond that came another girl. A leggy blonde who I kissed on the drive-way of her home. Just to prove a point I think, that guys like me could get girls like that.

Then came Victoria, the bucked teethed girl who happened to one day be sitting with her legs apart and her underwear askewed.

Afterwards came another girl who dragged me across the oval by my hair as a sign of affection.

Then came footsies with Belinda and walk homes with Sandy. Finally came Janice, four years my senior, the girl who when I offered some play told me she had her 'rags', I moped back to a whole cabin of expectant campers that she was too poor to afford new underwear and was embarrassed about her current ones.

That's a trail of desire summed up by people. With porn it surged initially with my father's books of Gustave Dore and Aubrey Beardsley, ancient prints depicting all sorts of lude goings on. The bra catalogues followed. Arriving in the mail, I pocketed these findings and sought out the shadow of a nipple, the smile of a girl with breasts that had been printed thousands of times for the practical purchasing of clothing for some and the pure purient self-play of others.

My father's hidden porn came next. Ridiculous 70's 'cops and robbers' gang-banging posing on a snuck teevee in the mid-afternoon before Doctor Who and The Goodies.

I came into my own with voyeurism, pictures such as the classic pinhole camera of which Toxic Lash is using for what she calls the (could be) 'ultimate cock shot'.

Voyeurism captured me for many years. And I stuck heartily with these images, alive and printed for many years. Loved it. The director's eye. What is not seen is seen. I then drifted off unto the happy land of local girls exposing, as would be found on ISM. My god, I thought, these are people I know. But that soon deviated into the 'pop porn', hardcore cock sucking fucking blah blah fun land of fuck. Not much erotic just pure wretching cunt cock trombone jizz, and an occasional pretty expression from those involved.

Then from that I got into 'girlfriend revenge' style pics. Snapped nudity doing the 'world classroom' pass around. I still find these most stimulating.

My favourite style of porn still remains as 'incidental porn', moments when you least expect them to be captured. Like a fuck in a park, of a flash in public. They hold that moment of the unexpected that I love in my own life.

Murder on the dance floor

2005-11-14T14:38:00.000+11:00

Out dancing with T, kissing and grooving on the dance floor, I felt a bump. Thinking it was nothing but another person stumbling into me, I kept on dancing, and then again, our teeth knocked, and I thought I must be close to someone who is a bit drunk or clumsy, but then again the bump came, and T was looking with disbelief over my shoulder. I turned around and there was a decidely aggressive NZ making her annoyance felt right there on the dance floor. "He's an arsehole" she honked. I steered T over to the otherside of the dancefloor, 'keep on moving', I said, with the glaring grinning bitter NZ leering and seething after us.

Right then I felt that double edged sword of knowing that my god, imagine if I hadn't of stopped things when I did, and why do people not like what they happily do to other people? Oh yes, wasn't it NZ who told me of her own encounters that she had spurned because she wasn't into the guy? Didn't I tell her clearly enough after only one encounter that I wasn't interested into getting into any relationships, and she had nodded and said 'oh but I am', and then I followed that up with 'I'm not interested in us hanging out, I'm not interested in getting into anything'. But no, even with such a rally of protest, I do believe I must of protested too much because she was decidely irritated. If someone is telling you outright that they are only interested in casual encounters, do you sleep with them if you aren't or can't deal with that? I think not. I think being honest with her was the best policy it just didn't do much for me but still it could have been worse. Maybe I should have lied and told her something that might of given her the upper hand.

Anyway I should have some new pictures to put up soon, I'm just wondering where to hang them.

Something audio

2005-11-11T01:02:00.000+11:00

I wanted to post about a couple of things. Firstly I have added Toxic Lash to my Blogroll. She is giving the smile of the century there on her profile (my aim next time if she shoots me is to get that grin). But she was the girl who took snaps of me tied up. We did a second round of pics and she is sending me some copies for Muffbox.

Secondly Ell has podcasted a saucy tale called The Unofficial Ambassador and I don't think I'll ever look at a blanket the same way again without thinking of where it could be draped!

I am listening to UbuWeb's DJ Food 'Raiding the 20th century' - it is quite a piece.

But before or if you happen to listen to "Raiding the 20th Century" - it is quite long, good if you are planning quite a long web session. Anyway, also on UbuWeb is Henry Miller reading a portion of Black Spring - definately catch Miller having a yap.

If you want to hear a piece by the the boyfriend of Andy Warhol who fucked me as described in my m/m experience post, then click straight here for "I resigned myself to being here"

Have I linked enough in this post or what? It's this Merlot. It is simply linkable. What a relaxing night I am having. Our new housemate, H, four days from Japan is very nice. He cooked, offered to cook, a meal on his first night. Such a fresh break from our last one who had about as much care in sharing as a horse-fly has tips on the races.

BRB - Couple of Days

2005-11-09T23:36:00.000+11:00

I should have posted that after my last post, what a hectic mad couple of days it has been, really rushed getting this production off the ground but slowly, surely, certainly getting there. I got selected to audition for a quizz show next week (The Einstein Factor - here on the ABC), my topic is "The Life & Times of Errol Flynn" - it's a mad dash for my bookshelf tomorrow where I will be brushing up on my wicked, wicked ways. Thanks to T who I have been seeing a fair bit of, wicked, wicked ways can be had in more ways then one. How would one describe T, she's sexy, definately sexy. Beautiful thighs, tastey too, delicious even. She has a rich smile, full of mirth. When we kiss it is playful, sincere, tongues rollick, softly parry, lips tussle, tuck, teeth bite, tease. Things harden, but stay clear of those fruity rubbers, they make orgasming the pits.

I also got to see some of her artwork. She is very talented. Her pictures are sometimes wildly serene, snapshots of her intelligence, wisdom, and imagination whisped onto the canvass to rest.

I have also been seeing some original prints of Manoel de Oliveira's work such as "The Uncertainty Principle", "Aniki Bobo" and "The Vain Glory of Command", I have added him to my "artists" section in my Blogroll - his page is in Portuguese. I just discovered that John Malkovich is in three of his films.

My 23rd Post is HERE, I have been tagged by Ghost of Demon Queen to find the 5th sentence but I only wrote one in the post and that was "Dildo with re-chargeable battery included" so that would be the closest. It was a line in relation to a shot I did with my ex-partner for ISM and I guess if any subtext exists I might be making the suggestion that if I hum or purl deeply enough it possibly could vibrate also.

But what powers this type of dildo? Fondling for one gets it rumbling. Kissing boosts its turbo. Stroking, nibbling, and biting all are sustainable energy resources, same with lasciviousness, lubricious thoughts and naked flesh pouncing and rustling together intertwisted with sensile erogenous zones alert to each grind and tickle.

I would like to tag ...

Always Arroused Girl
Gempires
Remmy
Dark Neuro
and
Bliatz

Morning Sex

2005-11-04T11:44:00.000+11:00

I informed T last night that if she liked 'morning sex' with me it is a matter of her complete initiation - for I am no early riser. Indeed I could very well wake up and say, "We aren't in Melbourne anymore Floppy", and proceed to meet lots of friends with missing bits like courage, heart, etc. I wouldn't have noticed the house taking off at all. When I sleep, I don't just sleep like a log, I sleep like a thousand year petrified tree.

This morning I was hard for what seemed liked hours. I felt gentle fingers prying upon the tip of my cock and a hand loosely strumming down the shaft. With my eyes closed my senses delivered only the touch of her hand and then lips which kissed all the way to my cock, spooning it into her mouth. A delicious morning treat. I hoped she would keep leading me because when I'm sleepy I can very easily slip back into napland. But soon enough she straddled on top of me and stroked my cock against her cunt, streams of hair tickling my chest ... my cock doing that arm movement you see people doing at pumping rock concerts and her cunt was the star. "Should I make a trip to your draw" she said. For a moment my mind caught a query wandering why she would want to take a trip to my draw and if so how long would it take, but I dusted my sleepy confusion, and revealed to myself that a trip to my draw meant I could be inside her. So, I agreed to this short lived vacation and soon enough she had me rolled ... what followed was some dreamy slow fucking.

T wants to take some snaps of her finger nail marks she makes on my arse and back but I can't upload pics from my phone at the moment because my rabbit chewed through the usb cable. So webcam or digital will be the medium. THANK-WAD I got my libido back, I knew it was somewhere, it came bouncing back, following the libido equivelant of bread crumbs.

Lastly, those who have searched "fart worship (MSN)", "TUNA lasagna" (MSN), and "tang muff (MSN)" welcome to Muffbox.

Condom Test Drive

2005-11-03T03:26:00.000+11:00

Sorry if the print is a little on the small size, next week I shall romp test the non-latex variety of which I have one. And maybe a ribbed letter also.

Inspired and slightly pissed off

2005-11-03T00:36:00.000+11:00

Tonight was planned a very fine evening with an ex-partner to go and see Manoel de Oliveira's "The Uncertainty Principle", this had been planned for weeks, months even. Then I get a call at about 5pm, half an hour before we had planned to meet for a tastey bowl of Don Don's famously inexpensive and yummy teriyaki, and it turns out Mr Heavy-Metal-Speed-Freak is there and completely paranoid that she might sleep with me. I'm completely serious, she called with him there to prove that we only have a platonic relationship, I even had to say that we'd 'done all that' regarding sex - admittedly there is a certain satisfaction in telling someone so jealous that one has been intimate with someone all before and now there isn't that chance but it leaves them on the back foot so to speak. Final Frontiers and all that. But sorry I am pissed off that he wouldn't let her go or rather kept her enveloped in an arguement so she would stay with him rather then come and see a movie with a good friend of five years or so.

What is his problem? I imagine he sees me as a fellow sex worker threat, someone who may match his dexterity in delectable dalliances but no, seriously I am no Fabio, just a bookish 'me' who applies the complete opposite to his world. Maybe he has a consciousness of guilt, knowing what he might do and then loading that on his poor partner, who knows, I have been offered many theories on this ridiculous situation and all I can say is I'm annoyed that I couldn't spend an evening with someone who I enjoy being around, rather an impish green-eyed goggle has googled me right out of sight, and he's hoping out of mind. I couldn't help thinking as I sat in the theatre alone, admiring the magnificant portraits of Portugal that by now he'd be peeling her clothes off with some sorry story about his paranoia having justification due to the unfortunate circumstance of a rather bad relationship he suffered or blah, blah, blah- PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK - as my cousin said, 'dump him'.

Anyway, life goes on and the movie was great, and I rode there at an unreasonable speed after having some much needed beer and bitching to a close social worker friend of mine. I ran into an old lecturer I admire and he loved the film, I'll be seeing him next week there. I got very inspired and worked hard at my script when I got home. I also worked out that I have been using these condoms lately that are strawberry scented, now, I like 'em thin. These one's are thick. They are no good. I am making the switch. I gave T a sex massage last night, she had never had one, and I think she enjoyed it. Well, at least she said she did, it's the perfect combination of de-stress and sexual pleasure you can get. I love it because it gives me total control (sorry DQ - I love a bit too). But when you can move into position and have hands kneadling and tongue, lips, sucking, licking, then cock - oh it feels good for me, and I imagine pretty good for the other person too.

Mousse Sex

2005-10-31T14:46:00.000+11:00

Firstly...

ACMI * FUTURE CLASSICS: "I AM A SEX ADDICT!" - (MELBOURNE) 11th * 13th
November, 2005

ACMI is proud to present the Melbourne Premiere season of Caveh
Zahedi's I am A Sex Addict, a confrontational, unabashedly honest and
hilarious documentary about one man's real-life struggle with sex
addiction.

Now when one of your lecturers sends you that kind of email as 'something that might interest you', you know exactly where you stand in your chosen academic institution. Indeed, my lecturers are all pretty good and send me these kind of things much of the time, I am well updated, and hey, this is the best kind of academic respect you can get. Let's keep the books open.

Last night I had sex with Mousse, it was another wonderful surprise by T, who when I once again opened my eyes, after fumbling in my draw for a condom with them closed (I have forty in there, so wasn't hard to find), I was delighted to see her reclinded with 'eat me' written on her leg in chocolate mousse. I love mousse, I love sweets that are soft and fluffy, that's why I don't eat short-bread or heavy pastry (the crumbled sort). I like moisture, moisture develops in the best of places. So, T had struck a pose that was extremely sexy, black panties and a singlet top, she looked yummier then the mousse by far, but I licked away all down her thigh and leg.

I had my turn, smothering rings of chocolate around her nipples and finger painting a large loveheart on her tummy. All is good there and T has been around for the last couple of days, just lying around with me. Sipping beer in this Australian heat that has swept across Melbourne.

I went to a super Halloween Party the other night held by a hairdressing salon - got completely merry around a bottomless glass of vodka punch (my glass never receeded two sips at any one time, Edels nicknamed the caterer 'the pusher') and popped an ecstasy tablet, had a girl throw up on my arm as I tried to get her to drink a glass of water, she was very drunk, cleaned her up, and put her in a taxi, was introduced by the host of the party to everyone I didn't know as 'the pervert', wound up at a warehouse with a couple of hair models, a visual artist and a hairdresser and three joints shared ... It was quite a night and the biggest benefit besides the fun was that I secured the location for my short film and feature.

I have been enjoying my time with T, and she wants to go to an S&S night (Saints and Sinners), so that will be great. My lack of posting has mainly been due to my cousin working hard on his thesis so I have let him have full reign of the internet, and also I have been very busy pulling the strings together to shoot this short, only three or four weeks to go!

Sex is good sport.

2005-10-28T02:29:00.000+10:00

For three years of seeing other people, three years! I held the title of best lover with an ex-girlfriend - then some heavy metal rock fellow comes along and takes the title off me. I joked with her this morning on the phone that he might have come up to scratch for one night (apparently the first time with him was not so good) but I still have three years under my belt and so retain the title of consistency and endurance! I might even take home the three years achievement award, he just got lucky.

We are pretty close, and she knows that we are comfortable enough with each other to call me up just to boast about it. She felt a bit silly afterwards but I assured her that it was great that she had broken the spell of drab sexual encounters.

BUT for goodness sake, she fed him a line that must have boosted his ego beyond dellusions of grandeur (he also does sex work), she said - "No wonder people pay for this" - Oh smack, bang, baboom! Why does her comment she said of me many years ago, that I am a "renovators dream" suddenly spring to mind, hey, that was before I added the rumpus room and water feature. She was talking about me generally not my sexual abilities I might add, before I risk accidently lowering my self esteem any further then it needs to go.

It's all in good fun, but of course as I have retired from her sexual affections I cannot regain the title.

Qui vivra verra!

Fireside Tale Number One.

2005-10-28T01:59:00.000+10:00

The silliness of an earlier conversation with an ex-girlfriend has inspired me to post about my relationship with her, I will post our conversation later. This particular ex-girlfriend and I are very good friends, indeed we always have hour long conversations, we help each other through depressions, and we both try hard to assist each other with the nutting out of our lives. I had my longest relationship with her of nearly three years, it ended in madness, tears, and the brutal reality that if we continued we would certainly end up being afraid of virginia woolf. In the end I have settled on the half serious quip that if we are single at eighty, I'm calling 'round and we are hooking back together again. Early on in our relationship I cheated on her, and it breaks my heart that I put her through all that.

I have left that relationship now for three years, and it was a tough one to finally pull the curtains down on. Of course we had sex a few times after that but more to do with the comfortability and safeness we felt in each other's arms. Love for each other rarely smouldered, the burning continued to seer our hearts, and then our passion would catch alight again. We both know we have very similiar minds but we are equals in our nurture for each other not in our nature.

Strawberry & Sherbet Sex

2005-10-26T23:27:00.000+10:00

And my phone pic account of bondage night one.

T came over for dinner last night, bottle of wine in hand, and a big warm smile. I had prepared a pasta Calabrese and some last minute mood lighting. It was a pleasant ‘getting to know’ each other evening. I suggested we track down another bottle of wine before the bottle shop shut, so we could really limber up the evening in relaxation.

Soon enough I was wrestling with the furniture octopus that it is my room again, grappling with the bed, butting the bookshelf with my booty ( I think I knocked Kenneth Patchen with my right buttock and got H.G.Wells a good one with my left), frisbeeing the thin mattresses, shuffling cords and stoking plugs to get music and lighting happening,

But it all came together in some way. I fancy talking to T so much I thought, ‘we may never get around to slap and tickle if we keep up this chat and chittle'. Here is an excerpt from our encounter.

After a while she asked me to close my eyes as she had a surprise in store. I did so and heard her rummaging through her bag, then the rustling of plastic, on my lips was placed something that tingled and then melted to sweetness, it was sherbet! Then she asked me to close my eyes again, and upon my lips I felt the cool sweet slightly tang flesh of a strawberry. It was to be a night of sherbet and strawberry sex …I wanted to put sherbet on her cunt, and ‘yeah sure’ she said. Pants stripped off, I got the lolly pop, scooped a reasonably ‘sure bit’ of sherbet on it, and sprinkled it down her outside lips. I got a strawberry and scraped off the outer seedlings with my mouth, gently pressing it through her and also lapping up the sherbet. By the next sprinkling of sherbet I had the strawberry teasingly spooning some way inside her, as I took it out every now and then to suck off her juices. Eventually the strawberry and sherbet were all pleasured away – and I spent a great deal of time letting my mouth engulf every buck of her thighs and sway of broken cries.

One amusing thing amongst others she said to me was, after I had asked her to let me know if she wanted lube at anytime, she responded with, ‘no, no, it will be fine, I’m self-saucing’.

The top pics I took with my phone camera during a break doing the bondage pics. It was fun. G did some basic nude, and then rope stuff. At the end of the night she captured me swinging naked overlooking the bright city lights. She is going to scan the photos (she doesn’t work with digital) and give me a copy on cd, which I shall soon post on muffbox. It was bloody cold work by the end, and I was glad to see my bath begin to fill, for a soak and a think.

Oh and an ex-partner yesterday told me she had a sex dream with me and her in it, and silly old me, just asked 'If the sex was good', I forgot to pry into the gritty details.

SIX

2005-10-24T00:26:00.000+10:00

Bedding with the girl from NZ. It was a strange introduction as I wasn't sure she was coming over but she contacted me none-the-less, and so it collided with a dinner party being organised by my cousin at my place. NZ turned up and it was one of those moments where I wasn't sure exactly what to say, or how to start the conversation but I did in someway or another. A beautiful dinner was to be had with three cheese lasagna, tuna lasagna, and salad. I made a Madeira tea-cake for desert (I love tea-cake). The small community of our Portuguese family here in Australia all cook, it is a non-said evening ritual.

(While I write this Edels is trying to sleep on my uncomfortable bed battling with a very determined rabbit that is leaping in through the window and onto his feet)

The night progressed and I wasn't sure exactly what was happening but my friend Edels informed me that she was very keen so I took his advice and put my often ridiculous unsurety in the biscuit tin to accept that tonight was going to be a night for sex.

After some time all the guests left and NZ, my cousin, and I were left to play a couple of rounds of cards. My couz headed off to bed and NZ and I were alone out the back on the outside bed (how convenient). It was chary movements from the beginning as I slid my hand into hers. She held it without flinching, and then I rescued the sheepish initiations by leaning in for some KISSING ACTION. It was good. It began with some direct touching. I went straight for her groin, under the dark blue jeans and rubbed hard. Her legs rocking like car window wipers as each firm spatular of my hand pushing the fabric against her cunt. She fumbled down to grasp my hard cock which was bobbing against her thigh. I love when it is realised that a cock has grown hard and is nudging for attention, and that moment just before when she thinks to search it out and inspect its arousal.

I suggested that we go somewhere more uncomfortable (i.e. my room - no really it is, as I discovered and suspected). She nodded. I went and arranged my space which to make at least decent is the equivalent of doing a Rubic Cube. Finally got the bed pulled into double, moved books, tapes, paper, and bits and pieces. All the while I'm thinking I am sorry all I have is this - the poor result of a broken relationship and a generous giving of better rooms to other people, I end up in the cabinet. It's the Welsh in me. Oh that'll do. This nice ledge on a windy cliff face. Just pass me a thin sheet of plastic and a bag of rice for a pillow. You have the mansion up the road. I understand you need to stretch out over ten rooms. Who doesn't?

It began with a bit of small talk. Before long she had my shirt off, button by button, and was combing her hand across my chest. Soon she reciprocated and had her top off, her bra stripped away, and her breasts of which I was very curious of, were free for nuzzling and kissing. Her nipples were small and shapely, hard as can be and I asked her how she liked to have her nipples teased. We all are different and she liked persistent but not too hard but not too soft. So I dived down and sucked and lapped my tongue 'round each fleshy silo.

Our pants were soon lost, and I went down and flung my tongue into her folds but she wanted cock inside her, she pulled me up and projected her hand down to my cock, we relaxed into kissing and she dealt my shaft a severe fanning, getting it hard by rapid fingered contractions, my tip butting against her clit, and then after applying the necessary hooding, I was pulled, and I pushed myself inside. It was 'ah' sex, almost relief to be inside and then shuttling up inside to a liquid motion, and after a while her legs were tottering and I hopped my legs over them and thrusted with hers tightly grasping towards hopefully an upcoming orgasm. We were so close, none of us came though. But it was enjoyable regardless.

We had sex one other time after that before attempting sleep on my EXTREMELY uncomfortable bed. She left early. Everyone I sleep with leaves early. I love sleeping in. My constitution needs it. But seriously my bed needs changing. It is no love nest; it is a coat-hanger with foam. She kissed me goodbye, and I 'erred' lunch mid-week. But after debriefing with my friends. She is too similar to my ex-partner and it seems she isn't going to be up for a casual relationship, and so I'm afraid I can't go there. I have to tread carefully otherwise I'll end up two years later nursing my head and cursing my impulsiveness.

I like T a lot better because I have much more fluid conversations with her, feeling more relaxed and I feel she is much more a 'me' kind of person. Indeed I spoke with her today and genuinely felt more excited talking with her. She is brilliant so far but as I said I am still single, no rebounding, I remain a first edition. Never rebound. Plus NZ knows little of my life whereas T knows so much and isn't phased.

Everything in moderation and more.

2005-10-21T17:41:00.000+10:00

I have been made the moderator for the explicit writing section of Angel Circus Collective & The Underground Australian Creative Community. The main creative writing section is for Australian writers only but at the bottom is an International section where people may post their work. It is my job to make sure that everything in the explicit section is explicit, I guess and also to make sure no explicit bits end up in the other sections.

I also have a funny story to tell about a meeting I had with a job network provider here. The woman who was interviewing me uploaded my resume onto the state network and the thing wouldn't be accepted. She had quite a thick asian accent and she said I had what sounded like "gunk" on my resume, and so I asked her if she could repeat what she said and still I didn't catch it. So I got up off my chair and had a look on the computer screen as she repeated it for the third time. Then I realised she had said, "You've got Gangbanging on your resume". The Commonwealth Employment Service had refused to accept my resume because I had the word "Gangbanging" on it.

Can you believe it! This is a play I wrote called "Brothers be Gangbanging", a title taken from a RUN-DMC song, and this play was put on for the Melbourne Fringe Festival along with two others, and the season came in at the top five for sales consistency, full houses nearly every night - so I figured it goes down on my resume, and low and behold the powers that be don't like that word. It actually was an account of a real Gangbang I attended many years ago organised by a couple, but I disguised it heavily by making the main character a Trappist Monk.

Funnily enough the electronic censor didn't reject my radio play "Groggy Sprogs" which also featured on there.

fucking good time fucking

2005-10-20T20:08:00.000+10:00

I had absolutely nothing to worry about. As it turns out T knew virtually everything because I had told her the first time we met, my booze addled brain just neglected to file it anywhere. So I went off to a conference she was speaking at, and afterwards we ended up at the same pub where we had met. I worried too about this NZ girl situation crossing the dating line and all that, but as it turns out she had something to say to me which was about her involvement with a fuck buddy after we had met. Perfect.

I stated that I wasn't ready for any sort of relationship just yet, but I am happy to pursue a casual friendship sexual thing and see where that goes. So, we were glued to each other in conversation at the pub, whilst the other table of people we knew sat separately. And after everyone left, we kissed in an empty sheltered courtyard with rain coming down and Frank Sinatra dreamily roistered from the courtyard speakers.

My friend lives down the road and I suggested we stay there because T asked me if it would be alright if she stayed with me for the night. ALRIGHT? Of course it would be alright, it would be just darn about the best thing that could happen. So off we blew (no fart innuendo pls) fresh bottle of red in hand, and over to my friend's house for rumpy-pumpy and a whole lot of jazz.

There is something riveting sexually about someone who you get on with so well from the very start. No falsity. No bragging. No, I'll just get changed in that telephone booth before we go home and fuck. Being able to communicate freely and relaxed whilst fucking is such an indulgence. No fed lines, nothing to prove, just two people who can see in each something they really like and want to smother that in tactile intimacy.

We slid into bed and removed our clothes. It wasn't a rush job, just bit by bit, things came undone. I then of course had to go to the toilet because I was swigging red wine from the bottle like a naked horny pirate, "Ahoy me hearties, sex sails, so lets spend our nights bobbing and rocking across the intimacy"! As I was walking down the hallway, Shantoozy, always thoughtful, called me into their hobbit nest, "Rupert" she said, "oh", I thought, "I might be in trouble", Edels peeped up tiredly (such a gentleman, he who had been sleeping in the spare room, got up when we arrived, and sleepy-headed his way into his other room) said - "Your not going to play loud music are you"? But no, Shantoozy wanted to know if I had condoms, of which I didn't but T did, but better to be well stocked, so Shantoozy selected a couple of stylish rubbers, ribbed and flavoured.

The kissing was delightful and it was a fine thing to be sliding against skin again. There were two moments of visual enrapture that have stayed with me. Although we fondled continuously until 12pm the next day with a brief intermission of rest. One moment she was riding me, SLOWLY, a slow dance, which had me fixated on her billowing body. Her long hair a scattering frame of colour across her face, her breasts, her nipples, her thighs, and her tummy, all aligned magically to the firm rowing with my cock engraced within her like a rudder rippling in her wetness. I was enticed by the idea that her rhythm was a mutual massaging of both our sex.

The other moment she was lying on her side and I came back in the room from having gone to the bathroom. I crawled up to her leg, and kissed along it, moving my lips across the crescent of her arse, and dipping across the side of her chest, to her shoulder, and then I wanted to do it all over again. Her shape, not quite curled nor stretched was demure, and her skin lacquered in the dim fog of a curtain’s misted sun rays. I love a crescent buttock because trekking over it with my mouth leads me to the curvature of its twin. Beautiful.

Now onto the oral proceedings. She loves to be given oral and her taste and texture was yummy – she was recently shaved and she amusingly described its re-growth as a Pomegranate of which I debated as being more like a Kiwi Fruit (or Chinese Gooseberry) – she thought that I wouldn’t like the sensation of it’s slight roughness but I explained that once buried within her, as she opened, and the juices shimmy everything is glorious. Anyway I hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, so if anyone should be concerned about stubble, it should be me.

She wanted to put my cock in her mouth, and she did so with the same delicacy as one brings a bowl of miso soup to one’s lips, bowing over it, cupping my balls, and kind of holding it up to her lips before adroitly placing it in her mouth, and I listened to that moist slubbering with delight.

dilemma number one

2005-10-19T14:59:00.000+10:00

I got a date tonight. I'm confused. Not with the New Zealand girl. With someone else. Date that is, not confusion. No, actually confusion too. Confusion says - I don't want a relationship although I know I can charge one like a credit card in a stock-take sale, without thinking. I can do casual if I am friends with the person. If we communicate well. But I'm afraid, if I'm not careful I may end up with three relationships, big problem, oh these things are messy matters at times. More when my head slows down.

A smattering of reprieve

2005-10-18T01:42:00.000+10:00

Back from Trivia night at the Vic, and I must say our team won, and can I also say I like to think I pushed us over the line with my Ben Johnson answer for retired pension recieving Poet Laureate - now I am busy doing up the audition sheets for "Attachment" and wanted to post some cock-tiles by way of a break, a tidy under-the-desk mosaic of manhood.

I would also like to include in this post a little something or two from Sartre's Reprieve, because these are the moments I love, when Jean-Paul leaps away from expectations to be intellectually respectful and into fancies of creative perceptions ... although these are not prime examples of where I see this in his work, it just a glimpse into his often sexually coy penmanship.

"the bed creaked, she had lain down in the hot damp bed, cuddled up close to him, and was inhaling the russet odour of his sweat".

"His hands, which an insurmountable modesty had previously confined to Lola's shoulders and breasts, had found their way everywhere: his lips too: and this time he frantically sought that half-oblivion into which he fell at the height of his enjoyment"

His characters seem to lust after soulful encounters, seek them until it hurts, draw all the sensuality of one's surroundings into their hearts and yet at the same time repel them due to the often cramped reality of their existence - all in a days being for JP.

Just some ISWU news

2005-10-17T03:17:00.000+10:00

"A spokesperson from the Australian Immigration Department said that prostitutes, like would-be fruit pickers, did not qualify for working visas because their level of skill was too low". - this politician obviously has been using the budget escort agencies. I also find it ridiculous that sex work would be compared to fruit picking. Now I've done both, growing up in Tasmania, picking apples, apricots, peaches, raspberries, all season fruit, climbing steep hills behind a smelly old tractor, and sex work which involves elements of social work, erotic performance, and certain disciplined regulatory behaviour. So, to me, each job is so vastly different, both requiring skill s at different levels.

What goes up...

2005-10-16T23:58:00.000+10:00

Which makes me wonder what Newton was really doing under that apple tree to cause one to break off and knock him on the head. Ouch. Well, exhaustion has finally caught up, and many apologies for those I haven't responded to about things but I can't even see the end of the tether, I think it snapped, and now I am seriously in grazing mode. I did call that girl, and because I have been out of that loop, yes, loop, let's call it a loop, not sure why, I guess because I've already established mention of tethers, we might as well introduce loops.

I called her right? - said with the following intonation, one a Troggs song, the other Peter Sellers (I got a bass for my birthday/y'know Marge?) - I called her up, nervous, out of loop, lost me confidence, found it, lost it again, then purposefully stuffed it beneath a stack of excuses. Called her up, and felt the conversation somewhat stilted, cheese like, y'know, as in we cheddered about this and that but didn't really "hit it off" - actually that extremely untastey pun is quite appropriate because she's from New Zealand. But we are meeting up mid-week. But I would like to briefly mention two things here ... calling...ah, that's one thing.

Today I was nattering away with an ex-partner of mine about the fact that this guy she kissed hadn't called her. Now, not only hadn't he called her when he said he would, after they had spent a night snogging, but the worst of it being he had actually made plans with her the next night to go out - so she was essentially stood up. I think a call is necessary even if to say, "look I had fun the other night but I don't think I want to take things any further". It is just the decent thing to do, there are exceptions of course such as if you were completely wasted and had no idea of who you were kissing and what they even looked like, one might have to leave that scenario with the understanding of sometimes you just want to forget what you had been doing, or sometimes you get the idea that after exchanging numbers the person had kind of humoured you by giving you theirs as a result of you already having collected nine others, they might aswell make it ten and complete the collection, or add to the confusion of the next day's recollection.

So, in calling, and letting the person know what the situation is from your side is best. As far as I think, and that's roughly from about here to the end of my desk at the moment.

So I am a bit excited about catching up with this girl especially since she's a Monkey. Yes, my spikey friend Edels and I have been amusing ourselves with Chinese Horoscoping ourselves and particularly in relation to my dating habits of late. My last girlfriend was a Dog (Being opposites, the Dog and the Dragon will have to strive to understand each other's motivations. As lovers they may develop an intense, physical connection, but extreme differences in other areas will cause much friction. Their overall compatibility rating is 20%), now I'm a Dragon (Celestial Emperors that we are and all that), and Dogs and Dragons get on the least.

Now most of my friends are Rats, and Dragons get on very well with Rats (The Rat and Dragon are a couple made in heaven. As lovers they will be electrifying. Even their arguments will be interesting and free of permanent damage. Their overall compatibility rating is 100% - watch out Edels), and Monkeys (The Dragon and the Monkey make for an epic match. They are very much alike and their mating assures fun and passion. They will make exciting, fiery lovers. Their overall compatibility rating is 100%), so I've been thinking about this and applying it somewhat loosely to my flirtations. Actually tonight we were all discussing how the main negative trait to my Numerology, Star-sign, and Chinese Horoscope is "Stubborness" - yes, I'm Taurean, Dragon, and a number One, what a hand.

The Unpredictable Dragon - The “Theatrical Visionary” in the Year of the Rooster

I can be extremely stubborn, although I'm not as bad as I used to be, call it mellowing or rather I have become stubborn about not being so stubborn. I refuse to be as stubborn as I used to be, no, I won't hear it, I've made up my mind, I will not budge, I shall continue to be less stubborn, you see if I don't!

The Snoggs

2005-10-16T02:57:00.000+10:00

My mojosity has been at peak lately, no fucking but I've been snogged down in kissing. My first pasher-dashery experience was after an exhibition opening after drinking a bottomless glass of wine and ending up at the pub for beers, shooters, and some sort of nutty beverage I didn't have the pleasure of knowing its name - just drank it. At this point in my drunken habromania I find myself with pursed lips to lips of a lovely girl of whom I must of sat with for ages, laughing and generally being rowdily ridiculous. Then she disappeared for a short while and I think I was then happily engaged kissing someone else - well so the photos revealed to me the day after. The thing is, the first girl got my number but I didn't get hers, and the second I got her number but I don't think she got mine. It was a madcap night and I stumbled away from it thinking that maybe I had confirmed potential relationships with both girls but then I can't remember. Next thing I knew, after having settled a deal with a managing director of some company from Sydney about developing some creative porn websites, whom I got on with like a house-on-fire, next thing I was bumbling out of a car, a beer still in hand, two cigarettes in my mouth - heading towards my friends house of which I was informed I had entered speaking of 'being betrayed by potentially off ham' and listening to Prince VERY loudly of which after having eaten some food I promptly passed out with Cream in my ears...

Then a few days later or was it a day, no it was only a day. I was at it again, this time on the plonk, inspired by reading one of Gempires posts, I thought to buy a 4 litre cask of Goon which the household promptly guzzled aswell. This time I ended up back at the same pub, grinding groins with a very drunk girl who pulled me from my chair and onto the dance floor - all the while wondering where all this frivolous energy I'm having of late is coming from. Somehow, don't ask me how, I have no idea, we ended up walking back with two girls. After a quick stop off at the supermarket, we were all discussing the idea of cooking up some food. It was then agreed to, mainly by one girl that we should perhaps call it a night because she was feeling tired.

I took the opportunity during this farewell moment to give the other girl a prolonged kiss, and so, we then departed. My housemate and I walking home troubling over our lack of boldness. He said to me, "Well, we should have just gone to their house and cooked the food there", and I said, "Well, it's not too late, lets do it" - and so we started running back and coming towards us at a steady jog were the two girls who had obviously thought the same thing.

The night ended up with only one of the girls coming back with us (the one I kissed). I managed to convince two cab drivers who were knocking off for the night to give us a ride back to my place. Like I said, my mojosity is at peak, and even works with cab drivers, they accepted my offer as if I was an old friend from the depot. Back at my place I cooked up a pasta dish, and we all chatted, the girl and I took the time to sneak in some gentle kisses when my housemate occassionally got up and left the room. I walked her half way home the next morning, we stood in the park, kissed again, and she sent me her home and mobile number. I am going to call her tomorrow night but I'm not ready to plunge into another relationship right now, but a bit of fun wouldn't go astray.

I have also been offline for a few days because my firewall disables my internet connection, I am not sure why it is doing this but it has all been sorted. I also have to add, that these times of bufoonery are doing me the world of good as I have been mixing my time nicely with work and pleasure. Putting myself out there has been a way of recovering my sense of myself, and other people. This is fresh phase of my life, and things are pretty hip. I also have so many people to audition next week, the response has been excellent. I have to sift through resumes now.

Tomorrow I meet with the girl who is going to bind me.

Foamy Phone Photo

2005-10-13T13:42:00.000+10:00

Back in June I did a few shower shots for VS and so I took a few more last night with a foamy body wash I use made up of Raspberry and Shea Butter. I love smells from products (It's the dandy in me), one of my favourites is Immortelle from L'Occitane, made from a flower which never wilts or withers even when plucked. I'm not a rough and ready guy, I don't just have a bar and soap and a bottle of shampoo, and I'm not a Metro-Male either, I have been like this all my life, just loving scents and tactile lotions. I think it might have stemmed from having grown up without a mother, and so when it was revealed to me what women stored in their bathroom cabinets, I went experiment crazy. As I got older, being someone who loves to relax, I understood that pampering oneself was for me.

But this post is more to do with me being tied up and photographed. A friend of Shantoozy said she wants to take some pics of me tied up naked and I have accepted the invitation so will hopefully post some of the results up here. I have never been tied up and photographed. I am familiar with some aspects of Kinbaku, your basic hog tie stuff, even took a lesson.

My short film "Realising Sigmund" is coming along at a steady pace, it's about a virgin lecturer in psychology fulfilling Freud's Oedipux Complex in one night completely by accident. It's a comedy of course, casting is complete almost, and I'm entering it into Tropfest (again).

And for Persephone, "don't come the raw prawn with with me" means "don't bullshit me" or to use another saying to explain a saying, "don't pull the wool over my eyes". For a veritable dictionary of aussie slanguage a good film to see is "The Adventures of Barry McKenzie" directed by Bruce Beresford of "Driving Miss Daisy" fame. It stars Peter Cook, Barry Humphries, Spike Milligan, Dennis Price, Barry Crocker etc. It's a madcap Aussie comedy full of beer, nudity, and slanguage.

Sexual Trivialities

2005-10-12T19:14:00.000+10:00

I get a feeling at times, just as my orgasm is sliding across the last triumph of a home run, and it is a culmination of feeling that propells a series of thought, or one thought that is derived from that series which usually is attached in someway to what is happening inside my head as I'm masturbating. These thoughts are odd, highly comforting, extremely resolved views of everything all around me at once. It is my jerk-off gestalt, and although hard to replicate here in post-wank sobriety, I will try and explain a little further because I think these moments are indeed the pataphysical like exceptions that are disregarded when discussing the everythings we feel and think.

Maybe back in June, I posted about that feeling I used to get when my nipples were toyed with, a kind of excruciating disorientation where the act of squeezing my nipples would bring about this very ineffable sensation of existentialism meets sex. Ell experienced something similiar.

Now back to this cumming business, this orgasmic non-thought. My fantasy would be running along just dandy, slowing down speeding up, repeating, narrative edited to suit new idea, when I'd kind of rip through the silver screen of my fantasy like Jeff Daniels in Purple Rose of Cairo, and have this thought which would be something like ...

"Well, this is me, here I am, and I guess I'll always be this guy with a whole lot of books wandering up the hallway, making a cup of coffee, and pottering around. I'm happy with that and I guess that's just the way things have got to be"

I'm totally serious, this is what ends up sealing the orgasm at times. Not always does this happen because sometimes reaching that masturbatory orgasm is like I imagine a surfer catching the wave he/she has been waiting for, "Here it comes"! SWOOOOSH and your riding it, not thinking of anything else but keeping balance on a good feeling.

Next time I get one of these thoughts I'll write it down straight away.

Pull up to the bumper...

2005-10-11T23:48:00.000+10:00

This week has been extremely busy so far and doesn't look like it isn't going to have its feathers unruffled. I presented to my class the theme for my documentary called VOY, an interactive passive simulation presented in QTVR, warning them my talk would contain nudity, I showed them examples of internet voyeurism and Blogging, one of my lecturers exclaimed in a lively pleased way, that he had never heard of "cock-blogging-wednesdays", I now know what he'll be doing this week! But the point of our discussion was talk of introducing people outside the world of eros to an area of self-expression that is important and healthy as human beings.

I'm also attending three sex worker conferences and workshops this week, two of them actually hosted at my University run by the Scarlet Alliance. I'm really looking forward to Friday which will have talks pertaining to Sex Surrogacy which is the area I'm most interested in.

I also presented my feature progress to a class-room of bewilded students, I just think I'm sitting on another planet sometimes trying to explain that where I come from sexuality is as much a part of my life as doing all that other stuff.

Not an overly coherent post I know, but I have to get back to work. On another note, this pic is part of my experiments to get a good ejaculation shot, I shot this one with two cameras in the hope of getting it. The other shot was done on my phone below taken from the other side.

They say its your birthday!

2005-10-09T17:16:00.000+10:00

My cock is nestling on top of Pieralessandro Casavini's "Pleasures and Follies of a Good-Natured Libertine" and the wine is Gossips Cabernet Sauvignon, and this is me, my life, in Melbourne, ploughing through a rather mighty Master's degree in Media Production, with a Rabbit called Floppy, a housemate that now sleeps in the room of which I and my ex-girlfriend once bumped and grinded, and believed that we could make a drowning relationship swim. I have a cousin who is moving in a few weeks from now, I read my way through the authors I love and admire, I am attempting to overcome crippling insomnia, small waves of depression better now, now since I got my verve back, it's been a tough/rough ride but I've always been a tricky bike rider, got a million artistic projects on my stove, and some get burnt, other's are simmering, but as a tri-sexual painter I once lived with ("tried one, tried the other, looking for the third" - he'd always say) used to tell me "Rupert you'll always survive".

So, it's been a year and some of the highlights have been:

my explorations into pornography.

My registeration as a professional Sex Worker.

My Creative Cock Pics

Discovering porn as a couple

Some of the down moments:

The end of my relationship

My constant insomnia

And now word verification. I'm sorry dear Bloggers I did hold off as long as possible , little blighters those Spammers.

Sleepy Rups

2005-10-07T22:18:00.000+10:00

A continuation of a series, this shot especially for Shay and Arroused Girl who both expressed a particular liking of cocks at ease. Well, tonight, as I write at my script, drinking wine, listening to Nat King Cole, soft lights, and rain outside - I certainly do feel relaxed, all of me including my cock. A short film of which I have appeared as a featured extra has been Blogged by the director, it's called Old Man Time. In this pic you can see the other half of my room, my desk, my home-made clothes ladder. When I showed an ex-girlfriend who I hadn't seen for a while its contents, I said, "It's so small, I always end up in small rooms" and she replied, "Yes, but it's very Rupert", and so case closed, with me sitting on it attempting to get those latches snapped.

I have a heavy weekend of taking pics for my doco "VOY" and writing, so will take a little time off Blogging until Wednesday/Thurs - so enjoy the poem in the last post and see you then lovely Bloggers. Oh, and this darn insomnia, back with a vengeance, so much so my Doctor has allowed me to sleep in his waiting room, and they will wake me with coffee and such when my appointment is ready! How's that for a caring man. I love my Doctor, he is so ancient and yet you can phone him on the weekend, doesn't mind one bit.

One of my early sex poems

2005-10-06T06:09:00.000+10:00

Click here to listen to 'Tropic of Blackheath'

This was performed live at a Fringe event as part of the Visible Ink poetry readings at Bar Open in Fitzroy where I had a 6 month emcee gig. I wore a crazy devils outfit, g-string, fishnet, braces, and horns, which was made all the more crazier by the fact that the night was dress-up and few people were.

This poem is about a painter I went out with for a couple of years, she 27, me 19. We had moved to the Blue Mountains from Sydney, where she had her own painting studio and I a clickety-clackety type-writer, something I bashed upon usually drunk like a thin relatively handsome (or so I'm told) Bukowski. I had met this painter during a threesome which is a story in itself, one I shall briefly tell here (why did I feel like Unfurling as I wrote that).

We lived in a warehouse in Darlinghurst, a huge space, which had an open bathroom that could be viewed from the kitchen - my first excitement of our new place was seeing a naked woman having a shower as i made a cup of coffee. My kind of living space indeed. How we got it was unusual enough, as I had two friends coming from Qld who I had promised could stay with me in Sydney, problem was I wasn't living anywhere in particular at the time, but I had met this guy who ran a Sea Theatre Festival in Bondi, so on the day my pals actually arrived by taxi I had sorted out residency at this warehouse. They were shocked when I told them I had yet to ask if it was alright we all moved in.

Anyway. Magnificant party happening. After a spoken word performance (gee I want to tell the whole story, why don't I just book all my readers a flight to Melbourne and I can tell it at my place over a glass of wine), okay, after a spoken word performance we had amassed a group of somekind at a pub called The Courthouse, and brought them all back to the warehouse for further frivolities. This painter and another guy had soon gone off to his double bunk bed to have sex. Everyone fancied this girl and how they all failed to woo her is an amusing story in itself but some other time.

I decided if I wasn't going to end up with this girl I fancied I'd watch them and masturbate secretly. So I crept into what could loosely be called a bedroom, and began peeping and playing, it was all good fun, then a mass of people romped in, I had to scamper them away telling them what I was up, so in nods of some kind of drunken understanding about the complexities of a dirty mind, they all left.

After a few minutes of them leaving I think I was noticed, well, I was definately noticed because the guy popped his head over the edge of the bunk. "Just masturbating" I coyly said, and his reply was "Would you like to join us". Well that resulted in two mad days of sex, drugs, and funky beats, and then two years of a relationship for me with the painter.

Simply apply, and in firm strokes, keep on rubbing

2005-10-04T23:39:00.000+10:00

Simply apply a small amount morning and night (and any other time you desire).

Next gently massage it onto your cock using upward firm strokes, then back down not forgetting to add a neat twist at the tip. Make sure to pull and tug the skin at your own pace.

Cock massage stimulates the sex glands to produce more semen, which is the final thing a stimulated cock needs.

Keep on rubbing it in, stroking the cock fully until you feel the skin firming, your cock will soon feel lively and in seconds begin to dynamize before your very eyes.

You will also recieve a bonus self-produced natural moisturiser of unbeatable quality absolutely FREE!

Boh Dandy and The Cranks

2005-10-04T04:38:00.000+10:00

I realised that I am surging towards cramming Muffbox with my daily exploits aswell as my sexual ones, and so I have created another Blog for our group Boh Dandy and The Cranks as a way of spreading the content more evenly. This means I can use it as a gig guide, and a diary of our adventures. The Blog is still finding its look so be kind. I did have an artistic Blog called Snuffbox but that is becoming an official website for my production company, and I already have Onlines for Uni thoughts.

Holidays in the sun

2005-10-04T01:07:00.000+10:00

I can say with out a doubt that I have had a Uni holiday. Normally I'd be spending my holiday week catching up on Uni work but this time, I thought, fuck it - I deserve a little wild madness. This was me, and still is, cooking up a breakfast after not having slept, still drunk, for two friends of the same disposition as I. Edels and GS we'll call them. This shot was taken just before I started whisking the eggs and doing a crazy Billy Corgan routine in a Scottish accent filmed on camera, "I'm just a rat in a cage".

Our evening began not in Paul's Boutique but having coffee and cake ... and champagne for Edel's partner's birthday. Much merriment was to be had especially after the third bottle of bubbly. GS and I suggested further drinking was to be done urgently so we cabbed off to the 24hr pub to play some tunes on the jukebox and down some ales. We then headed off to GS's house to drink raspberry vodka and for me to do my best Naked Chef impersonation, unfortunately fully clothed.

It was great to see GS again, she is always jolly good fun, and we all ended up doing mad routines, making a film clip for Pulp's "Common People" using my camera phone, and generally being human sparkler's that refuse to fizzle out. It was all in all a fantastic evening, and we even managed to get our arses over to another pub but by then our nonsense talk had slipped into absurd babble, and I had a Vox Pop film shoot to do.

This is a small amount of rambling, straying somewhat askew of my sex Blogging responsibilities but always there is something, and much of our night was taken with talk about cock pics and tea-bagging through-out.

Wish I could fly like superman

2005-10-02T16:22:00.000+10:00

I think I danced my pants off last night, well not actually my pants but one of the girls i was grooving with had a gradually descending top which I politely ignored - Why? As a voyeur I think I was just glad it was happening and didn't need to disrupt my jiving fun for some scopophiliac pursuits.

Literally my pants were so loose, they too had gravity jiggling them lower, so I think we both were dancing pulling up our garments. Gee! Why didn't we just pull them down, perhaps in a more private environment rather then a bustling dance floor, no wait, what am I thinking, I'd love that. Last night could actually be called a grotty pub night full of mirth and eighties tunes, I did the pogo with another girl, she was pretty wild and probably about nine years younger and so I mustered up all my "youth at heart" and jumped around.

I have been going through a stage of having gay men hitting on me everytime I go out. Last night a young punk in a flack jacket and Billy Idol hair said "Your pretty cute", I responded with, "That's all well and good but we need the DJ to play one last song" - I was talking to an ex-girlfriend today and she asked why I wasn't going down that path. I just wouldn't be able to, not a relationship, sexual flings possibly, but I'm too sexual in a general sense to go that way and be committed to it.

I've often ended up in beds of strange men, but I end up not knowing what I'm doing there and before anything serious can occur I get up and take off. I love certain aspects of male arrousal but I think I'll stick to the bi and narrow. I guess you could say it's "my private I don't know".

Slow Blogging across the universe

2005-10-01T10:25:00.000+10:00

Well, I have been a tad busy of late, busy sorting stuff out, namely a couple of funding grants which have the kind of applications that need dots on the "i"s and crosses on the "t"s - otherwise I managed to get myself out drinking again, at The Empress with my cousin, a girl from Boston, my housemate, a fellow film student from long ago, and a journalist friend whom I ran into there. I tried sending him one of my cock pictures from across the pub but his phone didn't display pics, so I ended up at his table trying to send it to his friend but his phone didn't display either, and then the girl sitting there said she'd like that in her bedroom, and why, oh why, did I not have the balls to say, "Okay here's my number, when your going to it, buzz me".

I have added some new Blogs to my roll, two of which are close friends, Daisies in the Gutter is written by my best friend of over a decade, he is a fantastic inspiration, and when-ever I'm mulling over some idea, a chat with him usually springs forth some fresh angles. His partner also Shantoozy has her own Blog and it is her birthday, so pop on over and wish her a happy one.

I'm off to the city, ten minute walk, to pick up some bathroom stuff, some nice a shower gels and moisturisers, and a Tone-Loc CD, which sounds odd but as with RUN-DMC, Loc amuses me, the dags of rap, in the best possible way. Oh and if you want to listen to a great song about swinging and being a libertine, hear "Strange Movies" by The Troggs. Although Tony Mansfield making orgasm sounds for the chorus is a bit like having Tom Waits or Shane McGowan do phone sex.

Can't sleep, take pics.

2005-09-27T04:51:00.000+10:00

I felt I was taking too many pics of my erect cock, but seriously it cannot be helped, when I start feeling arroused I think to take some pictures and when I start taking pictures I get arroused, so today I thought to take one of my cock in repose, and one erect, just to be fair. Although I tried for another climax shot, I really want to capture my cum in full flight but the closest I came (tee-hee) was getting that initial thick drool before the rest splurted out after I'd taken the photo. Oh well.

On another note, I realised tonight, not having a needle for my record, how much I miss playing my Leonard Cohen album at times, such a well worn addition to solitary nights spent sipping black tea and emptying ashtrays. So here is some from his book of poems 1956-1968, "Suzanne Takes You Down"

"And you want to travel with her
and you want to travel blind
and you're sure that she can find you
because you've touched her perfect body
with your mind".

Warming up the house

2005-09-25T20:04:00.000+10:00

Here are a couple quick snaps taken with the phone camera under my new light shade. I had an absolute ball last night at a friend's housewarming party, I woke up today at about 6pm, we had drunken so much and I once again let myself inhale a spliff that was being passed around except this time I held myself well. The next day though my friend's girlfriend walked into the kitchen and said, "Rupert I've seen your penis twice today" and imeddiately my mind raced back to the night thinking what had I done, naked dancing, flashing, pulling my cock out in public? But no, relief, as per tradition for friend's housewarmings, a couple of snaps at the end of the film were used to capture a cock of some sort. Hilarious to some, downright baffling to others.

All in all I did meet some lovely people. Three women in particular. The first one came up and sat next to me, and opened the conversation with "Have you ever seen Press-Gang"? now I've gotten this a few times because apparently I look like a character called "Spike" from the show, but I have never seen this show. It turned out that this girl was off to Holland in a couple of weeks to hook up with her boyfriend over there, but the situation was strange and I'm never totally off the mark but I'm sure she didn't slide up next to me just because I looked like the guy Spike from Press-Gang. But anyway, who can tell what is going on in people's minds, and mine sometimes leans precariously too much towards the gutter about these things, I thought that maybe with her being here and her boyfriend being so far away, etc, etc, "Rupert stop it" is all I have to say to that, we didn't chat with ease anyway, one of those jilted conversations where you know that after the prelimenaries, one is going to run out of things to say.

The next girl was really eager to talk and then after she left she gave me a very long lovable firm squeezey hug and a kiss direct to the lips which surprised me. She's a still photographer and I've decided she can take stills for my feature film of which she offered her services. She seemed quite obscessed with photography and I like that about creative people, the obscessive nature means one can rely on them not only as creative individuals but also as people too. I have this theory about being artistic and going out with someone else who is artistic, I have done this a few times but I think it might be a seperate post.

Lastly, the end of the evening saw me in hijinx with a highschool music teacher, mainly talking and dancing, we actually had a dance off together which was fun. I was taken with her energy. So all in all a few glimmers of my fervently polished mojo, but in essence my mission for that evening was to catch up with a very good friend of mine, and make peace with his girlfriend for having encouraged an orgy at his place at one time, and although my friend didn't take part, he was naked filming it, and this didn't go down too well. I also had in mind that I wanted to get extremely drunk and dance with my friend which I did also. That night was just what I needed.

Whip it.

2005-09-23T22:10:00.000+10:00

An evening spent watching Brian De Palma's "Greetings" with Bobby DeNiro and writing my script. Last night I took another take of my short "Indecent Exposure" of which I am re-considering changing the title, although, I do like the frankness of it, it really doesn't suit the action of the narrative. Hey and Indie Film making is having a boost here in OZ with 2million being set aside for stragglers like me.

As you can probably tell I haven't had a particularly sexually charged day. I did catch up with an ex-girlfriend a few days ago and had coffee in this great little cafe, and I listened to a filmmaking friend of mine yesterday talk about a fellow classmate's rather free cleavage, and I masturbated several times (hence the title post), but I've been swimming upstream, and editing hard which dulls the senses, it draws all of one's sense of the visual out and channels it into the construction of moving images.

And today (Saturday) I'm off to shoot Australians in their natural habitat at the AFL Grand Final.

Everybody bounce!

2005-09-21T02:25:00.000+10:00

Well, it's a chorus from a Goodies number, "Everybody Bounce", kind of in the same vain as their ditty, "String". If I am not mistaken pretty much the same tune but different silly lyrics. So where was I, bounce, yes, bouncing, not bed bouncing, although I am hoping to get as a modern Elvis might sing, "A little less Blogging, a little more bouncing" - last night I snuggled into my study/bedroom and watched Manoel de Oliveira's "Party", and I was instantly impressed, my verve for writing the rest of my own feature has been cranked back into motion. Manoel made his last film "O Espelho Mágico" in 2005 and his recent film "Belle toujours" is in pre-production, he has been making films since the silents went vocal, and I believe he is around 98 years old, so possibly the worlds oldest working filmmaker, and Portugal's main movie maker.

His 2003 film "Um Filme Falado" stars John Malkovich and Catherine Deneuve but how much press do we get about Manoel? His films are hard to come by. Cinemateque here in Melbourne is running a festival in October as a tribute with 35mm prints imported, I will certainly be there. I read one review which said the film was trite but there's no accounting for taste, so I'll see it with open eyes.

I am wondering about the full-time practicalities of my study-cum-bedroom. You see it is very small, I literally can take one step away from my desk and land on my bed, well, that could make for a romping good time over desk-bookcase-bed, a little like the glorious sex scene from The Tall Guy but my bed is a single bed which pulls out into a double, bangs up against the bookcase with my enormous old desk as a bed head, will I look like a total klutz in this space trying to be sophisticated with books raining on my lovemaking. Could be kind of romantic if there weren't hardbacks on the shelf. What is the gestalt here? Will my one night stands turn into one night falls, knee knocks, and "thank-god that complete work of shakespeare has a soft leather binding". We shall see. Do I need a bigger room? Is it the size of the room or what you do in it that counts? Why am I letting this confound me at 2:48am in the morning?

Oh and I got to keep the computer and saved the rabbit from going to a rabbit farm, so I'm a full time rabbit person, so regular Blogging has resumed. I truthfully have been biding my time with Gregorian Chants (listening not doing), reading Sartre's "The Reprieve", being the Uni debonaire, bouncing around like a rabbit, and awaiting several fashionable parties to attend with bells on.

He's not the messiah...

2005-09-19T05:11:00.000+10:00

I'm going to be without a computer for a little while and so knowing that certain laws prevent me from taking any Creative Cock pictures at Uni, although c'mon, I've been around that place for six years now, the campus certainly knows what I'm like. So, here are three webcam snaps to keep the front page pertinently pert with picturesque penile portraits.

Yes, it is true I have been feeling rather down in the dumps, but hey, I keep my dump fairly homely, and whilst I'm down there, there still be room for a laugh or two. So sing along ...

"Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad,
Other things just make you swear and curse,
When you're chewing life's gristle,
Don't grumble,
Give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best.
And...

Always look on the bright side of life.
[whistle]
Always look on the light side of life.
[whistle]

If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten,
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps.
Just purse your lips and whistle.
That's the thing.
And...

Always look on the bright side of life.
[whistle]
Always look on the right side of life,
[whistle]

For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin.
Give the audience a grin.
Enjoy it. It's your last chance, anyhow.
So,...

Always look on the bright side of death,
[whistle]
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
[whistle]

Life's a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life's a laugh and death's a joke it's true.
You'll see it's all a show.
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And...

Always look on the bright side of life.
Always look on the right side of life".

The Blogger always posts at least once.

2005-09-18T22:30:00.000+10:00

DQ is right, the lack of posting 'round here is making reading Muffbox a bit listless. So, I won't go into all the callamitousness of my life right now, let's just say I'm that guy in the movie who falls down the rocky hill, rolling over bump after bump, bouncing off cacti, and generally having a good bruising on life's stumbling blocks.

Instead I shall talk about last night briefly, sipping Vacleuse at the Supper Club (my favourite bar in Melbourne), sipping being the operative word because I'd already drunk about three jugs of beer with a bunch of film crew and actors after appearing as a featured extra in my friend's short film alongside my old friend Francis McMahon (of He Died with a Falafel in his Hand and The Rage in Placid Lake fame), we even got to play out a comic routine at a bus stop, which I hope they use. So anyway, I'm at the Supper Club with my housemate and an ex-girlfriend who I haven't seen for a while.

At one stage my housemate and I were talking about Robin Hood, and why there weren't many modern day variations, when a couple sat down and the woman said, "I hope we aren't intruding", I found this hilarious, but only I could find this kind of spontaneous word play implacably funny, I even chuckled to myself in the shower the next day about it, oh my severely daggy life. This same woman, when her completely drunk boyfriend was in the toilet, shared a smile with me that grew as we held our gazes, and grew, and then stuck there for about thirty seconds in rapture. I removed my smile and gaze like a gun slinger replacing his pistol only to return to his half cigar and distilled damnation, except mine was a glass of Vacleuse and a rolly cigarette.

Afterwards we hopped it to The Great Britain, that pub that found me going back to a Chef's house and climbing naked out of his bathroom window one night. The Chef wasn't there, but we three sat and chatted. Eventually I convinced my ex-girlfriend that she was better off heading home sooner then later, my housemate had gone wandering, and I noticed we were back on the beer jugs ("Piss" which is a local brew of the pub) and I was heading down that gurgling road of beer drenched inarticulate bravado.

This ex-girlfriend of mine is an exceptionally fantastic kisser, and I was getting to that stage where kissing and beer drinking might be a great way to spend the evening. So as not to let my boldness get the better of me, it was time to walk her to her car and let her set sail away from the hopping madness that would follow. Anyway I'm in no position to offer anyone any kind of fun at the moment, as Bowie has covered, I'm filled with the essence of sorrow, and must drop a few bundles to make my life simpler otherwise people will say "Where's Rupert, I can't seem to find him?", and to that they will hear the muffled groan coming from a mount of life's burdens and complexities, perhaps a hand royally waving as the best of life passes me by.

I didn't last out the night very well, I managed a Souvlaki, got a little depressed about my life, and caught a cab home.

If it doesn't reign...

2005-09-12T22:16:00.000+10:00

... it's poorly. well my fantasy was dethroned, and I am besieged with a farcical feudalism that is coming from all sides - BUT I promise I'll dust off my ancient book of spelling mistakes and cast a fantasy or two in the not too distant future.

Fantasy in progress

2005-09-10T22:47:00.000+10:00

Paraphiles published ... 10%

If you have a large fantasy, this may take a few hours.

Fantasy #1

2005-09-10T19:44:00.000+10:00

My fantasy begins this evening, and has begun strangely. Previously all the details had been exchanged by email about what hopefully should happen. She told me what she was wearing, "jeans and a nice top", now this didn't inspire much, and I don't know why she chose to be so abrupt with the details as they would have added to the fantasy a lot, anyway it was partially her idea to focus on what she would be wearing for the night. I then reminded her to take some pictures, and she was going to take one of what she was wearing but it hasn't come through, so I guess I'll just have to wait until I get a picture of her at the party.

I am quite nervous, and her last words were "don't be too upset if it doesn't happen" which of course I wont be but I did feel a small amount of worry that she might have changed her mind about doing it and was preparing me for a potentially non-fantasy happening evening. It's only been an hour into the fantasy period, and already I'm itching for that first titbit of communication whether it be a pic or sms that will encourage the narrative along.

Hmmmmmm, well, I sent a phone pic, and a two text messages and have recieved no reply. I am worried that the whole thing may have fizzled for some reason. Unless the venue is really loud, I cannot figure why I am getting no replies, usually she replies with rapid speed. I just called and she said she hadn't recieved my messages so that is alright. Ahhhh, all this anxiety, it really is like awaiting for the roller coaster to get to the top of the rail hill.

Back on track, just got a message, and I was right, she didn't hear the previous messages and everything seems to be fine. A pic has been promised a bit later on. See, it's all part of the fantasy outlay, and when pieces go missing, the mind has to re-establish itself somewhat.

I don't know whether this will be my actuall post, that is why I am drafting it but keeping notes as I go so I can leave in important feelings along the way. I've always had this fantasy that I'd recieve a phone call on my mobile, and someone by accident had pressed a key and dialled my number, they just happen to be in the process of having sex. I'd be able to listen. True aural voyeurism. This fantasy we have set up is a little more complicated. She's gone out to a party, with an underlying motive of picking up a guy who she will take home and fuck, purposefully dialling my number so that I can listen. Along the way though, she is going (hopefully) to send me descriptive text messages and a few pics. At the moment I am wondering how much attention she will be paying to the process of the fantasy and the unbalanced side of me in my study awaiting contact. I say this is the main cause for my anxiety and I should try and understand it better.

I guess I have to understand my time frame here. I mean the coffee I put on a while ago was still hot, so what does that say about the parallell between what is going on in my head and what is actually going on.

I had to wank otherwise I'd have shot testerone from my orifices and launched myself to the moon.

Tingle-tingle, awaiting the first port of contact. What's it going to be. A pic of her. A guy she's kissed. A grope. A wink. Tingle-tingle.

For me this is like being mentally tied up, I feel like Strindberg on a rainy day. Part of me is concerned she may forget about the fantasy altogether and just get wrappped up in the night, but hopefully not. As Iggy would say, "We are walking down the street of chance".

Will this whole thing hit me by surprise? At the final moment, not much build up, or no build up. I'm lagging a little in my hopes ... trying to think. I know it may not even happen, but, excuse me for being stubborn, I just got to keep on thinking it will. Can you feel my frustrations? An hour has passed since I was promised a pic and one hasn't arrived, am I chewing this fantasy too fast? Will I get sexual indigestion?

How am I feeling now? Well I just put some Michael Nyman, which should be a good indication. I can be a rather impatient person, it is one of my major downfalls, at the best of times I have trouble waiting, that's why I guess I have so many tools for periods of digression, such as reading, and thinking, looking and listening. Is it too early or is it too late, I feel I am sinking somewhat.

Well, news aint great that's all I can say. So, I put on Manamana and then felt like a complete twit, followed by Lou's "Take a Walk on the Wild Side" - one of the best spoken word pieces along with the Kink's "Lola".

It's midnight, do I now turn into a pumpkin now or what? I feel once again two worlds are passing each other! As the title of my friend's poem goes "a breadth of a breath", how can I measure that feeling, I'd add, a length of a sigh.

Followed by two sounds from a balloon ... either "pop" or "prrrrrffttttt".

Okay if all this isn't making sense, the fantasy wasn't achieved or well back to the drawling board.

Strokin

2005-09-09T05:42:00.000+10:00

Here is a snippet from a series of masturbation shots I took. One of which I had that moment captured of the cum just slumping from the tip, I snapped the take, and then whoooosh, the rest jousted heroically from the hole and I never caught the moment. I have been spending a merry evening with my new housemate, drinking, talking, getting to know each other. He is a real film buff, and used to run a cinema night in Brisbane. I believe we get on very well, we've been chatting about life from all angles, chewing the philosophy yarn so to speak, and generally been going through the cultural wag of which I enjoy so much when I can relax and have a laugh, and be a bit of a tosser without feeling like I am one.

Where oh where are the good webcam chat sites, I ask of you dear Bloggers. Not that i am planning anything too naughty but every site comes with a hitch, a snatch, an upgrade, and a "please put that ciggy out, we have standards and values".

Only one more day and my fantasy shall burst forth up the mobile phone. Will write in greater detail once the vent has taken place. Full report I promise.

In amusing fashion.

2005-09-07T19:33:00.000+10:00

Our gig went over really well, we would have definately been the most popular act but we didn't win the heat - the judges had to a rating system, and I guess spoken word doesn't really match up to it. But two of the judges bought cds (I sold about six) and the organiser gave me half a jug of beer. My friend Edels was hilarious dressed as a spiritual guru complete with sash and turban, he played the wind chimes, and performed mouth music through-out one of the tracks. Chook, the banjo playing also did really well amongst the mad rantings coming from myself in total performance mode. The evening has a rather funny ending - I stayed at the pub and met a fellow Tasmanian, we drank heavily and when the pub closed we headed off to The Great Britain to drink more beer, play pool, and boast about.

Live on stage: me with the silly chicken beanie on

Then when that pub closed, headed off home to this Chef's house with his friend who raps with the Trojan Horns, we drank even more, listening to Beck and the Beastie Boys. By this stage someone was passing 'round a joint, normally I don't smoke because it knocks me out and makes me run at about the inch of the speed I like to go at, and I never chill when i've had grass, I simply pass out. This was where I went wrong, I took tokes on this joint thinking that my body would take whatever it was being given with a jolly "bring it on" kind of way.

After we had all settled to sleep, in other words when everyone had passed out, I lay down in my sleeping bag with my brain sloshing about banging against the sides of my skull. The pot had gone straight to my stomach and had me ducking off to the bathroom for a quick chuck. I was naked (my friends think it is really strange that I would be naked, but there is nothing I hate worse then falling asleep in that night's beer and cigarette stinking attire) and I figured that nobody would see me streak to the bathroom and really "who would care".

When I closed the door, both the handles fell off, and that little bar which allows for the door to open had fallen and rolled out the other side of the door ... I was drunk, naked, and locked in a strange persons bathroom. I had to stand in the shower to keep warm, it was bloody freezing, I kept knocking and calling but everyone was too passed out to hear ... so I climbed out the bathroom window, not any easy thing to do ... anyone who happened to be looking at the house or walking down the street (the bathroom window opened out to an alley way) would have seen a drunk wet naked man climbing down the side of a house...

I was safely able to enter the house via the back. Thankfully, the Chef must of been too drunk to remember to lock the back door.

Cock Mountain

2005-09-05T23:01:00.000+10:00

This reminds me a little of the imagery I conjured up in my short story Palministry and the Titan Totem which was actually at one point going to be transformed into an animation but my animator up and left for Singapore.

I am still fixating on my fantasy-cum-true, and it has been giving me arrousal beans, my cock at the slightest thought of it is at attention like an excitable pup. I knew it would do this, even when I've been cruising along on my bicycle, I'd get a sudden warm rush pounce up my spine, tickle my heart, and then nestle in my purring groin - yes cocks kind of purr when they are curled up having a nap dreaming of enchanting sexual acts of depravity. Well, this act isn't so depraved but kind of is. Sometimes when I'm writing about it, I think about all those guys who have refined their fantasies down to the smallest detail.

Lets just put in here for now that it involves, a sexy outfit (short skirt, lacy stockings, low cut top), a mobile phone, a thirty dollar phone card, a few pictures, some sms, a male prop, and if advanced, a webcam. And I'll be like Dr Noah from Casino Royale in his secret den.

Home of Jazz

2005-09-05T07:31:00.000+10:00

what can I say? so much of my writing life has been accompnaied by my favourites such as Thelonious Monk, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis ... and to see nature in such a destructive way ... Fats Domino, one of my favourite all-time fifties singers, stating that he didn't want to evacuate, but rather stay and take care of his family puts a brave face on the whole ordeal.

I won't write too much on my thoughts, I feel that should rest in another type of Blog altogether, but my heart goes out to those struggling to put their lives back together.