Funny, how reading and viewing many, many queer blogs you find yourself eerily aroused. And not just in the most obvious sense. I guess it's the geek in me who feels the kinship in thought and the horny goat who feels the heat of lust.
Blogs dedicated to videos from x-tube, blogs dedicated to pictures taken from the cornucopia of beefcake the web offers, blogs with sharp observations of life, blogs with awesome prose, blogs in many languages that speak to you in the unbounded language of sex.
Funny, I sometimes think that this should make it so much easier for the inexperienced and the closeted to find outlets for their frustration and angst. To provide bridges between cookie-cutter suburbia and big-city grittiness without having to leave your home. All on your lap. Literally.
Funny, also, how this bombarding my libido with all the tales, the pictures, the videos, the undiluted strength of queer culture feels so natural. I guess it feels natural to me, but I wonder how it would feel for somebody for whom THIS is the only way to connect with whomever he really is inside. The HE that only he knows. The Ted Haggard hiding in his MacMansion.
Not funny at all in that case, I guess. It should be like showing banquets to the hungry knowing he cannot eat. The torture of the closet or the anguish of unconsumed lust gnawing at you should be worst than any actual physical discomfort.
And I enjoy my forays into the ones and zeros. Because it's fun. Because it's enticing and because I can. Because I can read what other queer men think and because I can ogle all kinds of men and give free rein to the voyeur in me. Men like the one adorning this post, borrowed from someone else's fantasy shared here with somebody else. Awesome what freedom is. More than just a word in a political sticker, that's for sure.