Day 73 (1/17/10): Kegger

I don’t think I was ever much of a college party kind of guy, even in college. At least, not the frat party kind of guy, but a girl I’d recently been in contact with from my alma mater told me about an alumni frat thing, and begged me to go to it.  If there is nothing else MLK day is good for, it’s an inappropriate Sunday party at a predominately Caucasian school So, I took the long train ride home prepping with a flask of Jameson.  After the train and the cab I stepped onto all familiar pavement. I walked around the campus a little bit, trying to re-adjust, and get my bearings.

Eventually my phone rang and it was Jamie, calling me to tell me she was right behind me, in a general faux stalker-kind of way. I laughed and we were back in a cab to the Frat house. I almost immediately regretted this decision, bout I powered through. Five bucks and a wrist band gave me an excuse to go back to my college days.

Only, I didn’t like keggers in my college days. You meet the worst girls at keggers, and you meet the guys you don’t want to be stuck with. I found a corner and hid until a girl I later learned to be named Faith drunkenly grabbed me and tried to get me to dance. I shook my head.  She asked what I did do, and I told her I was a pretty good shot in beer pong. But the fact of the matter is, much like friendship and fucking, you only make good partners with some people, and we got our asses handed to us.  Faith cupped my face in consolement, and tried to kiss me, and this is when it hit me that I hadn’t seen Jamie in more than a while, and I dreaded why. Sure enough, she was off playing with some boy toy for the evening, and I was strained alone with Faith and losing hope. I grabbed another cup out of the keg of PBR…a college staple. But a few beers, and being corned, and bad judgement set it, and I spent a good two minutes with my hand on the small of her back, and kisses I couldn’t take back. Luckily, I was shortly rescued, and passed out on the foot of the bed in a Hilton shortly thereafter.

[Via http://100girls100days.com]

Photo at weekend (2010, Week 2)

For the first time I took note of Kate Love when discovered Dan West Sublime-Nudes on deviantART. The image I liked the most was called Mountain Kitty Kat. It brings the wonderful feeling of the warm summer, wildflowers, deep and clear sky, life in harmony with nature.

Mountain Kitty Kat by sublime-nudes on deviantART

Kate Love is currently based out of Athens, Greece. She describes herself as

an artistic nude model and self-portrait artist born and raised in San Francisco.

So it isn’t surprising that her gallery on deviantART consists of two sections, Nudes – Modeling and Self portraits. The first one includes some impressive works of photographic art,

Resentment by katlove on deviantART, Photographer: Ken Chen

the latter features the brilliant art photographs that, as one might think, allow a glimpse into the soul and personal life of the model and photographer.

Settle by katlove on deviantART, Self portrait

Links:
1. sublime-nudes on deviantART
2. Dan West Nudes
3. katlove on deviantART
4. katelove’s Nude Self Portraits on deviantART
5. Kat Love . Model . Self Portrait Artist

[Via http://vadimage.wordpress.com]

The VICE Guide to Liberia - Preview

On the 19th January VBS.TV will release an hour-long documentary in eight segments over eight days, following VICE founder Shane Smith and Editor Andy Cappa on their visit to Monrovia, the capital city of Liberia. One of their three guides (each of whom participated in the 14 year long Liberian Civil War) is Joshua Blahyi or ‘General Butt Naked’, himself the subject of a documentary charting his life and change of ways.

Blahyi, who gained his name by forcing his soldiers to fight wearing nothing but shoes, admits to having killed over 20, 000 people and drinking the blood of children. Today all he seeks is forgiveness, as he travels from place to place preaching about his redemption and how Jesus came to him at just about the right time.

Who better then to lead Shane and Andy to the most treacherous spots in Monrovia? They’re talking jails, brothels and heroin dens here, in a country still trying to find its feet after a war that came to an end almost seven years ago. In the trailer alone we watch some kid speedballing his way into the evening.

The VICE Guide to Liberia – Trailer

A couple of months ago in VICE – The Film Issue Ian F. Svenonius wrote a feature called ‘The Documentary Crisis,’ basically about how documentaries have become so bland that they must be destined for some distant alien race to learn about ours. It was really good, made a lot of sense and it’s brilliant that VBS.TV can come up with examples of what a good documentary should be, particularly with this guerilla expedition into potentially hostile Liberia.

Roll on part one (I’ll post it as they do).

[Via http://felixclarke1.wordpress.com]

Naked House

Since the removal of the real live Christmas tree (and the fourth or fifth dumping of the water from the stand on the carpet) and the fake Jenny Craig skinny tree with blue ornaments, the regular furniture and accessories have not made their reappearance in the house yet.  It looks quite naked in the living room and the family room. The garage is uncomfortably stuffed at the moment.  We need to bring in two coffee tables, three lamps, one chair, two silk Ficus trees and whatever used to be on the entry table and the piano. 

I think I’m liking the barrenness of it all.  Less to dust.  Not that I ever dust anymore.  I have children who do, despite the  infrequency that it gets accomplished.  Embarrassingly enough, the dining room chairs did not get their seats wiped for months… and in the dusty AZ desert, that is NOT good.  A guest in black pants, who shall remain nameless, came over, sat down, scooted back and unknowingly dusted one of the seats for me.  Yikes!  When said guest was not looking, I caught Larisa’s eye (the living room duster….) and pointed to the dust on our guest’s backside.  Good grief!

We had house guests visit for five days, so the loft/sewing room/school room had to be cleaned out.  I dusted the sewing machine and folded it back into its table.  I even dusted the elliptical machine.  It does get regular use, but the metal bars are a magnet to dust balls.  One of my helpful children loaded all the fabric from its obvious hiding place under the cutting table into a black garbage bag and to the garage. And even the loft/sewing room/school room looks bare naked at the moment.  It makes me feel lighter…. or slimmer…. or something.

All this nakedness needs to rub off in our master bedroom.  I desperately need to clean out the file cabinet drawers and file all the files on my desk.  It is a seriously organized conglomeration of files that simply need a home of their own instead of a pile… many piles… neat piles, but piles nonetheless. 

Anyway, I’m staying downstairs because it’s all naked and clean feeling down here.

[Via http://mysistersjar.wordpress.com]

Tomorrow is No Pants Day

Tomorrow January 10th, No Pants Day is celebrated again.

All big cities around the world are participating. In Berlin, they take part by taking a subway ride with no pants on. The German city hopes to attact hundreds of pants and skirtless people, who are willing to defly the current temperature.

Also Amsterdam will be participating. Registrations are open on Facebook.

bron: www.bild.de, www.youtube.com

[Via http://wocview.wordpress.com]

Freedom

It’s spending money on memories, not on material objects, without a second thought.

It’s coming down from the night before with no regrets.

It’s running naked and having no shame, no insecurities – and not because you know you waxed, tanned and pampered yourself the night before vainly trying to emulate the sense of ‘perfection’ the beauty industry pushes onto us.

It’s understanding the difference between fear and love and knowing that you loving someone is enough & not being fearful as to weather or not they love you back.

It’s seeing sex for what it is – self expression. There is no need for guilt, worry or regret.

It’s laughing at yourself and all the stupid ‘errors’ of your past, but, enjoying the experience of it all nonetheless.

It’s choosing what happens next, creating every moment, consciously, and relishing the results.

It’s enjoying the consequences of your actions, having no expectations and therefore choosing never to be disappointed.

It’s saying ‘I am’, ‘I will’, ‘I can’ and ‘I desire’ [rather than 'I should' ‘I want’ or 'oneday...'], and knowing your word to be truth.

It’s doing, changing, pursuing, things because you want to and not for anybody else.

It’s knowing that this is heaven.

It’s understanding that the world is just an illusion, and that it is perfectly okay to milk it for all the pleasure it provides and taking up all opportunity it gives birth to.  Money, power and happiness are not bad.

It’s understanding the importance of quality not quantity, understanding that more is not always better.

It’s speaking your truth quietly but clearly.

It’s following your dreams with no fear.

It’s believing in what you sell.

It’s never judging, but observing, keeping an open mind and seeking to understand why another has a different preference to yours.

It’s enjoying the journey as much as the destination.

It’s accepting the truth, not even trying to justify your actions -  just knowing that you are what you are and what you are is magnificent.

[Via http://jiveny.wordpress.com]

The Steam Bath

…is normally done naked.

I habitually go for steam baths. It’s therapeutic, relaxing, and more often than not I sleep better after one.  Perspiration burns a whole lotta calories.

That aside, what amuses me no end about steam baths is best reflected in a typical incident.

I normally walk into steam baths with a towel in hand to sit on, and totally naked with my dangly bits for all to see.  I figure that if men can walk about in locker rooms comfortably naked in the presence of other men, why not steam baths? Right?  Right?

Unless I’m the only bloke in the steam bath that day, I’m usually wrong.

As I strut in nonchalantly, I can sense the fleeting glances, averting eyes, and that uncomfortable shifting in the seat due to either shock or surprise. And here I am, the only one without a towel wrapped around me, feeling smug and looking royal.

I was told that a naked dude in a male-only steam bath is an unsettling sight. Perhaps it’s the close quarters, but hey, I’m no homo, so chill, but I speak for myself when I say that.

I’m told that in photos of steam baths, people are always clad in towels. My response is that having a towel wrapped around one in a steam bath is akin to wearing suspenders AND a belt: redundant, ridiculous, and only shows how insecure one is.  My other response is that if they were to show you photos of naked people in a steam bath, you wouldn’t even be seeing them in your traditonal promotional material.  What it’s really like doesnt necessarily mean it’s fit for print, people.

Steam baths are best done naked, and I’d bet the women do that too.  And if this doesn’t give you the courage, here’s food for thought: a shy guy is a contradiction of sorts.

[Via http://smokingisgoodforyou.wordpress.com]