...Cool, folks, we are in the German Magazine Mein Schwules Auge with our flash story "Active Duty"...

Nov 27, 2015

Nov 25, 2015

Google mis-search --- This is heaven --- (teaser)

(We're already in Chapter 5. Godehart has been tricked into underwriting the Festival Award of $$$ 100k, which explains the whiskeys. Alice, Godehart, Alex and John sit on the terrace of Nick's restaurant, and talk, yes, what, they talk neologisms:)

“If you control the website, you control the festival, more or less,” Alex says.
“This isn’t the festival site,” I say, “It’s my site.”
“Who would know?” Alex asks.
“Anybody who needs to know about the festival. It takes a split second to discover a mis-search. People have experience,” I say.
“Mis-search.” Alex’s tongue likes the word. “A bit heavy on the ear perhaps, but useful. The most frequently committed act of our era, mis-search, an act in dire need of a term. You invented this? ... Can you google ‘mis-search’?” he adds in Alice’s direction.

Alice---who should slap Alex’s wrist now and steer the conversation back to Godehart’s predicament---Alice says:“We have him back, we have him back.” She means Alex.
“I was like this before?” Alex asks.
“Yes, on a good day.”
“Well, this isn’t a good day,” Alex answers, “google ‘mis-search’.”

Alice googles “mis-search.”

Nada. Not one mis-search on Google. “A real neologism, John,” Alex says, and slaps my shoulder. “Dude. You are worth it.”

Nov 20, 2015

Thanks God (Tristan Verran)

...So, Thanksgiving in the good ol' 'US of A' is that special time of year when it's actually OK to openly celebrate the mass migration of a group of religious fundamentalists who invade the country and then murder all the locals...

Nov 14, 2015

We mourn the victims

A victim outside the Bataclan concert hall in Paris on Friday night

“A body fell on me—it emptied blood on my legs. . . . My neighbor, a man of about fifty, was shot right in the face, in the head. Bits of brain and flesh fell on my glasses,” one blessed escapee from the theatre recollected. “I tried to keep my eyes on the floor, it was an immense flood of blood.” Another concertgoer, named Célia, recounted, “I saw the assailants clearly. I think there were four. Their faces weren’t hidden. All very young, in their twenties. Not especially handsome, but not at all devilish looking. They wore big tunics, one beige, and two all in black. The one in the beige tunic had a short beard. They were all Middle Eastern types but spoke French without any accent.” And another survivor remembered one of the attackers saying, “You have killed our brothers in Syria, now it’s your turn,” while they fired at the crowd. It was a non-stop fusillade, and a gunman shouted, “The first person who moves his ass, I’ll kill him.” Célia added, “My cell phone was lit because I was going to film parts of the concert, but I didn’t have it out. Good thing, because those who took theirs out were killed immediately.”

(Eyewitnesses, quoted in an article in The New Yorker)

Oct 29, 2015


This is the Dom, at 4505 m. the third-highest mountain of the Alpes, the peak is in the clouds. You can see autumn descending down the slopes (the rainbow of colors).

Oct 26, 2015

(Hat tip: Erotica Book Club)

A third Bush in a row, that would be....like this guy

"I don’t want to be elected president to sit around and see gridlock just become so dominant that people literally are in decline in their lives. That is not my motivation. I’ve got a lot of really cool things I cold do other than sit around, being miserable, listening to people demonize me and feeling compelled to demonize them. That is a joke. Elect Trump if you want that."

Jeb Bush, Oct. 25, 2015

PS: (msnbc):

Addressing his many troubles at a campaign event in New Hampshire over the weekend, Jeb Bush said, “Blah blah blah blah, that’s my answer, blah blah blah.”

PSS: And if you want to know FF's views: Emerging dynasties are bad, especially in a republic. A third Bush in a row, that would be, qua analogy, like this guy:

Oct 23, 2015

The electricity of sex

Glenn sends this sketch, what can we do...

...find something in the GREEN EYES, or THIS IS HEAVEN.

Here it is, from Chapter 28 of "This Is Heaven" (adult content warning):

It’s fun. It’s fun for my obliging tongue, but more so for my willing brain. We feel how it feels, on the other side, on the inside, or wherever Taylor is at the moment. “Oohh,” he moans, “Oohh.” I’m keeping a steady pace, probing, licking, sucking, playing with the tiny caldera of his sphincter. “OOHH,” “AAHH,” “AAHH,” “OOHH.” This goes on for several minutes. This cannot go wrong. Rimming is never bad sex, especially on the receiving end. “AARGH,” he moans. “AAGH.”

He gasps. I disengage. “The electricity,” I say, “feel it?”
“This is what sex is all about,” (I say).
“Your nerve endings?”

Back to work, the tip of my tongue inside his ass, inverted French kissing. “AAGHH, AAGHH.” More of this. Deeper. “AA-GHH, OOOHHH.” He feels me, feeling him, feeling me, lapping, slurping, lapping, tickling, kissing. I know how this will end, I’ll be rimming him to death. “I’ll be rimming you to death,” I say.

Are you still there? Then you'll possibly like the GREEN EYES. Print and Kindle edition are out now:

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Oct 16, 2015

Philippines (4) --- we're back

Nature imitates art

Today is Oscar Wilde's 161 anniversary.

You need to remember a bit of The Importance of Being Earnest, his last, and arguably best comedy, but if you do, this quote from This Is Heaven may speak to you (Brigitta and Jane have picked up Ben and are on their way to Jane's place (Brigitta speaking)):

“With Jane at the wheel? Boozed up like that?” I ask.
“Well, she was barely driving, she was spending most of her attention on the ravishing passenger next to her. ‘Do you like my Audi A eight,’ she asked, for example. ‘Yes, I like your Audi A eight,’ he answered, for example. We arrive after a brief journey at her palatial mansion on Belgrave square.”

“There is no Belgrave square in Georgia Beach,” I say.
“The more fashionable side of Belgrave square,” she answers.

Oct 15, 2015

The first snow

We're still in Bürchen, Switzerland; our chalet is located at 1,600 m above sea level

Oct 14, 2015

"I'm still a virgin" --- This is heaven --- teaser (4)

(The Happy Ending Is over now, was the title of the first chapter. But John is still with Alex---and the plot thickens already (go here for the previous teaser)---because Ben has called, the other guy John met last week. Here's the beginning of the next chapter. The boys are about to meet Juliette and Taylor, both pivotal characters to the plot of Part II:) 

We are about to turn the corner of Nick’s Restaurant but are held back by a bunch of kids coming from Georgia Avenue. Teens, mostly, tribal in appearance, piercings, pipe jeans, one or two Cherokee heads, overnighted mascara and a discordant air of nerdy-ness that I haven’t seen since I visited MIT once; some of them even wear oversized glasses. They look at us, we look at them, Alex’s arm is still on my shoulder. There’s something exploratory about their body talk, and one or two are homophobic (if I read them well (I’ll have to relativize this later)). “You know where the beach is?” a pale-faced girl without piercings asks Alex (we are standing on the boardwalk). Alex explains about the beach (“This is the beach”).

"This is the beach." (This is the beach of Rehoboth Beach,
DE, seen from the vantage point of Peggy Noonan's statue)

“You locals?” Yes we are. They’ve just arrived per overnight ride in second-hand passenger vans still misparked on the main street, they explain. “Where’s the festival?” The festival is on the grounds of Surfside Field, between Lake Gerard Park and the beach, half a mile to the north, at least that’s where it was in the past.

“That’s where the gay beach is?” one of the homophobes asks. He’s dressed for the occasion, black cape and artificial fangs that shine in the sun when he opens his mouth (if they are artificial, that is). The horn-rimmed, oversized glasses don’t fit; perhaps he need them.

"Taylor, come on, you can do your sodomy thing later."

“Taylor, come on,” his pal says, “you can do your sodomy thing later, when your penis is grown.” Alex is patient, he explains about the gay beach.

“You guys are gay?” the girl asks.
“You guys are vampires?” Alex asks back.
“Yup,” the second homophobe says.
“Real ones?” Alex asks.

There’s some tribal confusion, they haven’t decided yet.

“Yup,” Taylor insists.
“You should be lying in your coffin,” Alex says and points at the sun.
“That’s so yesterday,” the girl replies, “you should read Twilight.”“Twilight?”
“Yes, the saga.”
“Where are your fangs?”

“I’m still a virgin, “she says. “What’s your name?”
“Alex,” he replies, “What’s yours.”

“Juliette.” And, having said this, the virgin touches Alex’s pecs (he’s still top-naked, the T-shirt dangling from his right hand), makes a seductive step forward—she’s quite a bit over the top, perhaps the strain from the night ride or peer pressure from the tribe, this doesn’t look like her normal routine—and asks, the voice a bit slower: “Alex, will you buy me an ice cream.”

“Ice cream is not good for virgins,” Alex replies.
“I’ll do anything for ice cream.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he says. He turns to me: “Let’s see where this goes, let’s buy her an ice cream.”

“We have no money,” I say. “We didn’t bring any money.” The tribe erupts in laughter.

Are you still there? Then you'll possibly like the GREEN EYES. The first part is available on Amazon now, under this link:

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"Click & Enjoy"

Oct 7, 2015

Guns don't kill people, I kill people --- with guns (Cathy U.)

Recently, my father and I discussed the shootings in Oregon, and I wondered how many more mass shootings it would take before we finally decide we need stricter gun control.

 My father: He got those guns legally, you know.
 Me: And if we had stricter gun control, maybe he wouldn't have been able to get them. 
 My father: Yeah, it's a tough deal. I don't know what we could do to make it better. 
 Me: Maybe stricter gun control? 
 My father: And I don't know why we have so much trouble with mass shootings compared to other civilized countries.
 Me: Uh, I think it's because of their stricter gun control laws.
 My father: Yup, it's just a problem that can't be solved.

"I'm going deaf, and also: I can't hear you! Neiner, neiner, neiner."
"I'm going deaf, and also: I can't hear you! Neiner, neiner, neiner."

 And here's the clip that justifies the headline:

This post (minus the clip) appeared first on Cathy's U.'s site: Hollywood Hates Me

Sep 27, 2015

Legal age, there's such a thing as legal age --- This is heaven --- teaser

"You and your parakeetish tendency to find some fitting line in the GREEN EYES or whatever your novels are called"---writes our friend Glenn---"here, take this:...

...this will shut you up, or at least your GREEN EYES." 

Well, for starters, Glenn,"---we write back---"we never intended the GREEN EYES to have a fitting word for everything---it's just the way it worked out. And second, of course we have something fitting your picture, here, in Chapter 18 of This Is Heaven, titled Post-coital Checkup..."...context: Alex and John are hauled by Professor Bienpensant into Juliette's hotel room, the room where the girl, by all accounts, has just lost her virginity to Romeo

She bangs on the door and attacks the door knob. No reaction. “Hold the line,” Alex says to her, “briefly.” 

“Juliette,” he says to the door. “Wonder girl, we need your help.” He knocks twice. 
“It’s too late,” Bienpensant says, “we need somebody to open the door. The concierge. The ambulance.”  
“Wonder girl,” Alex pronounces, “Alex.” 

This is a noisy building from the 70’s, we should hear something inside—if. And yes, there’s a sound, the bounce of a closet door maybe. The door opens and Juliette’s head appears in the crack. She looks drowsy at first, then defiant, then resigned. She lets the door go and retreats. Romeo is on the bed, half-hiding under the sheets (Juliette wears a bathrobe).

“What is this,” Bienpensant says, “who is this boy?”
“False alarm,” I say (idiotically).
“This is Romeo,” Juliette says, “who else?” She walks up to the bed, sits down.
“I’m not a boy,” Romeo says. It looks like he’s preparing for one of his I-am-not-a-boy routines, rises, drops the bed sheets, and just stands there naked—whether he knows it or not, he’s the perfect expression of juvenile charisma. Where have we seen this posture before? Bienpensant can’t help being impressed. She shrieks.

“Perhaps we could start a drawing class with you,” Alex says, “angry male nude.” Romeo gets back under the sheets. 

"How about this picture, then?" --- "This picture we found ourselves."

Alex pulls out the phone, swipes, holds it up. “Have you seen this,” he asks Juliette. Bienpensant rushes forward and snatches the iThing. 
“No no,” she cries, and pockets the device.

Alex half-raises his eyebrows, looks at Juliette.

“Did you take your pill,” Barbette interrupts.
“No,” she says.
“This boy,” Barbette says and points at Romeo, “this non-boy.” 

Juliette sticks her tongue out.

“Legal age, there’s such a thing as legal age,” Bienpensant says.
“Juliet was thirteen,” Juliette says.
“Just chillin’,” Romeo adds. “We’re chillin'.”

Are you still there? Then you'll possibly like the GREEN EYES. The first part is available as Kindle book on Amazon, under this link:

Night Owl Reviews
"Click & Enjoy"

Sep 26, 2015

Philippines (3) --- taxis are for the faint-hearted --- connubial bliss

We've arrived in Baguio yesterday, and this morning we decide on a stroll through the city. Let's go to Mine's View, which is a neighborhood in the northeastern part known for it residential vibes and views. "You know where it is?" Chang ask as we are leaving the hotel. Michael, flapping his internet maps, answers in the affirmative.

We stride past a terminal for Jeepeneys (a taxi-bus hybrid)...

and a construction site, where the construction crew reacts with
loud cheers to Chang's photographic efforts.

Otherwise, the first 15 minutes pass uneventfully, 
but then we get a repeat of yesterday.

Chang chokes on the traffic, the pollution, the noise (not shown). He covers his nose with the decollete of his T-shirt (as if this would help against the exhaust fumes). He then uncover's his nose and says: "Let's take a taxi."

Sep 25, 2015

("GOP" means grand old party, and refers to the American Republican Party. The elephant is their mascot)

Philippines (2)

"Lying with your beard" would be a more appropriate header, perhaps...

Sep 22, 2015

Philippines (1)

Note the dress code; background is the Thuner Lake (in Switzerland)
we haven't even arrived in Zurich.

Sep 20, 2015

Zurich Airport (reposted)

(This post was posted first in May 2012, when we were on our way to Thailand. Now we're heading for Baguio, in the Philippines, but again we're staying over for the night in Kloten, the town next to Zurich's airport. Little has changed in the meantime:)

Why Zurich, why zee airport? Well, we are en route to Thailand, and the plane will leave the next morning at 11:25am, and the counter will close 2 hours prior to departure, the website kindly informs us, and we would risk missing the plane if we take the early train from Visp, in the Valais, where we've started our summer sojourn in Switzerland, as we've vacated our house for the summer rentals. So we come a day early, and will spend the night in an airport hotel. And it's the Welcome Inn, located in Kloten, the suburb that gave the airport its name.

The receptionist looks stressed. She asks for our passport, then speaks Dutch (we have Dutch passports), asking whether we could speak Dutch. Sure, I reply in German. She looks stressed-er. We are handed the keys, and I like the room, especially the bed covers, and have a nap. I meet her (the receptionist) again in my dreams, and a theory develops. She's so stressed, I theorize, because "kloten" means "balls" in Dutch, and she was possibly raised by seven dominant sisters, who are all married now, and always ask her to explain to the nieces and nephews why she, the lonely spinster, works in Kloten, of all places. Dutch humor, I know it so well. 

Anyhow, when I return to the reception area after my nap, the camera ready, she eyes me suspiciously. Can I take a picture, I ask kindly in Dutch. It does not help. Yes, she replies, and flees the scene to hide behind a pillar that the architect must have put in place for that purpose. Here's the result:

Stay tuned.

Sep 12, 2015

A cheap motel for intercourse with a near stranger --- This is heaven --- fragment

Our friend Glenn sends this picture... 

Question: wouldn't "intercourse with a perfect stranger" be much funnier?

...while we are writing Chapter 28 about John and Taylor making out in a hotel room...so we simply had to post this post. There's a lot of sex in the chapter that we omit...some of the text overlaps with recent posts, apologies...what we are trying to do, give you an impression of the entire seduction sequence...seduction isn't possibly the right word, defloration might be a better word...although we're doing a bit more than just defloring Taylor who has just turned 18...

For more context go here, or here.

So we’ve been set free, and are now walking past the row of nervous aspen trees lining the Davis Canal, heading north in the direction of Georgia Avenue. We feel a bit experimental, both of us (I guess), so we make conversation that’s not centered on what happens between horny males in overheated bathrooms and decrepit trailers, or whether it’s accidental or providential (what happens there).

Still, as you might imagine, it’s on my mind whether there’s a follow-up to this, a Taylor-closure, as it were, some full sexual act with this youth played out in some convenient location, like, say, my bedroom---which would be the least convenient location in all of Georgia Beach with Maurice and Ben and everybody else around. Taylor doesn’t know about Maurice and Ben, of course, although he’s possibly assuming that Alex could be a roadblock, the only person who isn’t available as a roadblock at this juncture, sadly. Perhaps we could apply my overcharged credit cards to the reservation roster of the Lupo di Mare, the hotel-restaurant around the corner, or consider the Atlantic Sands Hotel, where we would bump into a wisened Juliette who’d figure us out immediately, the way providence (and female instinct) works.

A propos roadblocks

We’re about to reach the corner of Canal Street and Georgia Avenue. We would have to turn left here (and then left again) to get to my apartment with its bed chamber and other ingredients of supposed privacy, or turn right in the downtown direction and return to the Surfside Field, supposedly. Another round of green-room sex is out of the question, of course, not to mention trailers and police tape. We’ve painted us into a corner. Where do we go from here?
“Where do we go from here?” I ask (one of my better lines today).
“You go home now?” he asks.