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Kevin Killian presents … Jack Spicer (1925-1965) *

* (restored)

 

The American poet Jack Spicer, who was born in Los Angeles in 1925 and died, in San Francisco, forty years later, in 1965, a broken man and a drunk, interests today’s readers on many levels, and not the least of his interests was his theory of dictated poetry. He avowed that his best poetry was written by an outside force, a confluence of forces he hesitated to name, but sometimes called the “Martians,” or the “Outside,” and he compared the poet to the radio in Cocteau’s 1950 film Orphee, through which transmissions are heard from hell. Poet, or speaker, as radio. The way the sound amplifier in the stereo system is called the speaker. Spicer’s body of work collapses notions of self and agency with a greedy, brilliant flair for the absurd. Through his subconcious state, voices from the “outside” find human expressions, as he allows himself to be overwhelmed by the alterity of a will stronger than his own. The poet’s own voice thus has always a quality of abjection, for Spicer disclaims to having written the poems. “When someone praises my work I feel like they’re talking about my brother,” he said once. When he announced his “dictation” theories, claiming that his poetry was the product of “outside,” alien forces, he joined the mystical band of his heroes Yeats, Blake, and Rilke, but became a freak to the hard-edged, career-driven poets of MFA programs and prize committees.

I wonder if there are any biographers on Dennis’ blog, who have shared my experience, that the biographer and the subject change roles as the work goes on. What does that mean? It means that in 1990 I was totally on Spicer’s side (the biographer loves the subject, some kind of very primitive identification goes on in which, tracing a life, I step into the shoes of the man and ascribe the best motives to everything he does, or as it amounts to, I do). His enemies—like Lawrence Ferlinghetti—were my enemies. A few years later I passed into the intermediate stage, where I came to loathe Jack Spicer, and I began to suspect that people like Ferlinghetti were right. He was a sucky excuse for a human being and his writing isn’t all that great either. Finally at great length the biographer luckily moves into the third phase, which is really a combination of A and B. We’ve all read biographies of the Phase A type. Recently I read, with a mxiture of horror and fascination, Jackson Benson’s life of the California novelist Wallace Stegner. It was like—There but for the grace of God go I. And surely we know a lot of Phase B books too: I think Tom Clark’s life of Charles Olson was begun in Phase A and finished in Phase B, so that Olson gets worse and worse on every page and almost in every paragraph.

 

 

Anyway I’ve moved into the third phase, which is why I explain my diffidence, since I don’t any longer know if Spicer was a medium or not, but thinking about it, I know at least that he cultivated this image and may have believed it himself. The evidence is suggestive. First I wanted to back up a bit and explain Spicer’s life in general . . .

As a young boy Jack Spicer had a dream, one of those precognitive dreams that seem absolutely real and terrifying. It would not be exaggerating to say that this dream had some affect on the rest of his life, both as a poet and, you know, as a human being. He was dreaming about nothing in particular and then without a transition he was transported through the clouds into the darkest reaches of space, a space big beyond imagination, and strangely quiet, and he saw a murder being committed. I always think of this dream as “Murder in Space,” a cheap pulp type title, but that seems to be the way Spicer thought of it too, and perhaps his later addiction to science fiction and to detective stories issued from an attempt to try to clarify the nature of his dream—a dream, as I say, so vivid that he actually believed it had happened to him. The way that the survivors of space abductions really believe that they were chosen to be transported into silvery ships and probed with amazingly flexible steel rods in their rectums. But you notice the difference between this Whitley Strieber type of story and Spicer’s dream—generally speaking, nothing happened to Spicer—nothing touches his body, nothing clouds his brain: he’s there as a witness.

This episode was to color the rest of his life, the way Henry James’ “obscure hurt,” whatever that may have been, colored his view of social relations and human destiny. It was the implacable cruelty of the non-human beings that spooked him. As a young, sickly kind of boy growing up in pre-war LA, Spicer was familiar with the ordinary human cruelty—the petty dislike for anything different that drew him to Tennessee Williams’ early plays. But the cold cruelty of outer space seemed to leave its mark on Spicer’s inner self. The ghosts and voices that appear in his poetry are not sweet, they’re mean as hell, and strangely indifferent to human response. Like “Tak” in Stephen King’s books.

Anyway when he came to Berkeley in 1945, an intellectual, kind of gawky, kind of cute guy, six feet tall and about 120 pounds, kind of in the closet, but kind of confused sexually, not really sure but that he wasn’t, after all, as heterosexual as anyone else, he fell into the company of two other young poets, Robert Duncan and Robin Blaser, and in this company, which the three of them later called the “Berkeley Renaissance,” he began to practice magic in earnest.

He had already met, in Los Angeles, the British novelist and essayist Aldous Huxley, who introduced him to Hinduism, Busddhism, and Yoga. Spicer was a kind of seeker after truth, and the realms of the other world intrigued him. Of course they would, they intrigue any sensible child. A few years later he met Huxley’s friend Christopher Isherwood, whose experiments in automatic writing further intrigued him. As a teenager he hung around carnivals and circuses hoping to meet gypsies, and somewhere along the way, perhaps from the gypsies, he learned to read the Tarot cards. Not as popular then as they are today, where all of us know more or less what a Tarot card looks like. My point is that Spicer really hungered after magic. In Berkeley, in the company of Spicer and Duncan, he really went to town with it. I don’t know if any of you have ever done any drugs, but the whole time Spicer was in college he was living in this artificial paradise comprised of such a heavy-duty intellectual camaraderie that the participants all felt drugged. It was in this state of heightened consciousness that Duncan hit on the idea of the serial poem. Each night, around a wooden round table, in the kitchen of a rented Berkeley house, Duncan would compose a poem more or less in a trance. Ten nights later he had ten poems, the “Medieval Scenes.” There was also s series of domestic scenes. There were swans in the wallpaper in the bathroom that you could see while you were taking a bath: but not really see: you registered them in your subconscious and then forgot them, and they came out in your poetry.

 

 

You started to call all the cute new young guys you met yours “swans,” and you didn’t even know why. And then one day Duncan looked very closely at the wallpaper and saw the swans with his conscious mind, and this explained everything. This was their discovery, at the rooming house at 2029 Hearst Street, in Berkeley, that they were all living in a magical world.

Bruce Boone and I went to the house at 2029 Hearst and asked the people if they would let us come in, because this was the famous house where Duncan lived with Hugh O’Neill and Janie O’Neill, and they let us in and Bruce chatted them up and I asked if I could use the bathroom. So I got in there and you know, flushing the toilet and everything, I started to peel away the damp paint on the wall on the other side of the bathtub—which was one of those standing tubs, and I was looking for those swans, and instead just this kind of wet plaster goo stuff came off under my nails, so I ran the water in the sink and I imagine I looked so guilty coming out that those people probably thought, well, who knows what they thought, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before they let anybody in the house again, and Bruce told me he kept them occupied by talking about the Gnostics and about Bataille and S and M. No wonder they looked dazed.

Anyhow, I think part of the thing about magic was about sex, and about gay sex, and playing with magic was one way of actually playing with sex without actually having to come out and have it. Especially in the immediate postwar period when homosexuality was this incredible taboo. The way that many gay men would get drunk, have sex with each other, and then be able to say, “I was so drunk I don’t remember what we did last night.” This wasn’t true of Duncan who, Leonard Wolf said, was the “most out man he ever knew.” On the other hand, there’s out and then there’s out, and it means something different today than it did in 1946. James Schevill recalled that Duncan would go into bookstores with his book and depending on the store, sometimes he would bring in a woman friend with him and introduce her as his wife, if the bookstore owner was thought to be leery of selling the books of homosexuals. And indeed, of course, Duncan had been married, and lived a bisexual life throughout this period. Spicer too. He claimed to some to be a virgin, to others he let on that he had had sex for money as a teen with the aging and disgraced tennis star Bill Tilden. The gay men of Los Angeles knew him as a player in the bars. But to Duncan and Blaser, and most of the men and women of the Berkeley Renaissance, he represented himself as a virgin—a blank page, a untouched vessel. And it was at this juncture that Philip K. Dick came into their lives.

Some are surprised to hear of the link between Jack Spicer and Philip K. Dick. I gave one talk at the Art Institute in San Francisco, which is like slacker heaven, and a lot of people were raising their hands, jumping in, talking and yakking, but dotted across the room around the seminar table sat these young guys, their arms folded, it was summer so you could see the henna tattoos up and down their arms, sunglasses, slacker heaven. So I mentioned Spicer’s influence on Philip K. Dick and they came alive like—like black sunflowers: “Valis, yeah, Valis, Vast Active Living Intelligence Fucking System.” Anyway at the end of his life, Philip K. Dick was about to write another novel, this one to be called “The Owl at Midnight,” which would have been a memoir of the six months he spent at UC Berkeley, living in the same house as Duncan, Spicer, Philip Lamantia, all these crazy poets who sat up all night trying to scare themselves into poetry. But he died. In the meantime it was really a pathetic story, because here he was, right, the world’s greatest science fiction writer, he’d written “The Man in the High Castle” and all those other books, and he wrote to Robert Duncan a letter something like, “Say, do you remember me? I was just a kid in your house and I looked up to all of you and now I’ve written, you know, like 20 books and I wanted to tell you how much you meant to me,” and he never heard back from Duncan. And later Duncan said that he didn’t write back because no, actually, he didn’t remember him, and he still hadn’t read any of Philip K. Dick’s books. But Spicer had kept up with Dick’s career for sure. And indeed, right at the moment that he discovered dictation, he was reading not only Philip Dick, but William Burroughs, and starting to write his own masterpiece The Heads of the Town Up to the Aether, a book in four parts, and the first part is called “Homage to Creeley.”

And so I find that the atmosphere of Heads of the Town is just filled with all these references, or emanations, from Burroughs, Dick, another writer called Alfred Bester, whose two great novels The Demolished Man and The Stars My Destination were among Spicer’s favorites. It’s funny because, after Spicer’s death, Robert Duncan began a long introduction to his work, an essay he never actually finished, in which he speculates at some length on the amazing similarities between Spicer’s writing and Burroughs’ writing, and he says something to the effect of, but of course Spicer never read Burroughs. Luckily we now have the lectures Spicer gave up in Vancouver where a member of the audience asks him if in fact “Naked Lunch” isn’t indeed a dictated poem, and he says, no. And indeed he puts down Burroughs in this very dismissive nothing way, but that’s just defense, the way that I have sometimes been guilty of sneering at, say, hmmm, Djuna Barnes or Hemingway when the truth is that my writing couldn’t have existed without theirs. I asked William Burroughs if he knew Spicer’s writing and he explained the difference between their projects was that he, Burroughs, aimed at expanding the human consciousness and that Spicer seemed to be interested in narrowing it or blunting it in some way.

 

 

Spicer thought of himself as a real patron of the arts. And never hesitated before saying, So and so is good and so and so is awful. His voice had a lot of authority to it, people listened to what he said. He wasn’t a patron in the sense of someone who spends a lot of money on art and artists, no, for he wasn’t wealthy, or even most of the time especially solvent. What’s the name of that couple in New York who amassed that huge, huge collection of minimalist work by paying $25.00 a month to different artists? Spicer didn’t even go that far. He was the type of patron who just shows up at galleries, nods, or frowns, goes for the cheese and wine, then talks about the work to different people afterwards. He felt important, because the painters deferred to his judgement, but what was his judgement about art? You can see that a biographer wants to know about these things. Did he have good taste?

He seemed indeed to sneer at those who cared about art. The painters who loved him constantly wanted to give him their paintings. There’s a wonderful picture by Jess, which he gave to Jack Spicer, but Spicer turned around and gave it away to another friend, which is good in a way since it still exists, seeing that Spicer lived like a pig and prided himself in owning only two artworks, and these of declaredly awful taste, a terra-cotta bust of himself, hollow, in texture and shape like a flowerpot, which he had commissioned in Minneapolis by a local artisan, in the spirit of those tourists who come to Fisherman’s Wharf and pose beside those people who do your picture in charcoal and crayons in seven minutes with a backdrop of the Golden Gate Bridge behind them. There’s a photograph of Spicer kissing his own head. This head still exists too and it’s really terrifying. There are photos of Spicer and Blaser holding a seance in 1959, 1960, around the same time that Blaser was beginning “Cups” and Spicer “Homage to Creeley.” The other artwork Spicer owned was what he called his Egyptian frieze, a frayed hanging he also called “Uncle Louie.” Despite its down-home name, “Uncle Louie” was a gaudy piece of Orientalism, the representation of a pharoah surrounded by lines of hieroglyphs and Egyptian figures, created in Cairo during World War II by women artisans. The piece hangs four feet long, and eighteen inches wide, and its present owner described it in these terms, “It’s just a commercial piece of appliqué.” The representation of the Pharoah is so askew that others thought it was actually the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland smoking a hookah.

One of the painters Spicer knew, Paul Alexander, remembered this work, asserting that “That was a purposely ugly image, hung over his bed, meant to offend.” Spicer, although gay himself, disliked what he thought of as the effeminacy, or should I say the effeteness, of the affectations of both collectors and artists, particularly the intriguing art collections of his two greatest friends, the poets Robert Duncan and Robin Blaser.

Let me now resketch some details of Spicer’s life and you can see where the magic fit in, or didn’t fit in. He was born in Hollywood in 1925 and died in San Francisco forty years later—in a way his career was much like that of Frank O’Hara, only in a humbler West Coast way of course, and the startling coincidence of their dates (both poets died at age forty, a year apart) is perhaps no more than a coincidence, but I sometimes wonder if their meeting in 1955 didn’t spur Spicer on to a greater interest in the visual arts. He nursed a stubborn feeling, almost a grudge, that anything O’Hara could do, he could do better. Duncan’s interest in Surrealism—he had, during the war years, lived in New York in the “View” group of Charles Henri Ford and Pavel Tchelitchev—inspired Jack Spicer; Duncan’s first-hand knowledge of the European painters who had fled their homelands for New York during World War II must have been a very good education in what they called modern art back then. And soon, once Duncan had met the painter Jess Collins a few years later, and moved in with him in 1950, Spicer was on the fringes of Jess’ wide circle of painter friends.

 

 

When you read The Collected Books of Jack Spicer, and particularly the long essay by Robin Blaser that concludes the book, “The Practice of Outside,” you get the idea that all of the work in the book was written under dictation, but that’s a little misleading. The book begins with Spicer’s first book, “After Lorca,” during the writing of which he discovered the concept of the serial poem—an entirely different kettle of fish. It was during the writing of “Homage to Creeley,” several years later (say, from November 1959 to the spring of 1960) that Spicer announced to Blaser that he had been writing his poetry through “dictation.” He was no longer “in charge” of his writing—some outer force was using him as a trance medium. For Spicer, dictation was a release from the responsibility of authorial intention and all it denotes. No longer was his “personality” to intrude. The days of dedicated poems were over. The spirits that wrote the new poems hardly knew the boys Spicer loved. The morning after he wrote “Dillinger,” he stumbled across a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle and discovered that the last of Dillinger’s gang had been shot down in a barber shop. He became convinced that he was in touch with—and perhaps had been in touch with for years—a great “Outside” force, as powerful and omniscient as the spirits that visited Blake and attended the seances of William and Georgie Yeats, or those who wrote the “Sonnets to Orpheus” through Rilke. He was now a radio, picking up transmissions from “ghosts.”

He began to speak of poems that “scared” him, such as this one, “Magic,” from “Homage to Creeley.”

—-Strange, I had words for dinner

—-Stranger, I had words for dinner

—-Stranger, strange, do you believe me?

—-Honestly, I had your heart for supper

—-Honesty has had your heart for supper

—-Honesty honestly are your pain.

—-I burned the bones of it

—-And the letters of it

—-And the numbers of it

—-That go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

—-And so far.

—-Stranger, I had bones for dinner

—-Stranger, I had bones for dinner

—-Stranger, stranger, strange, did you believe me.1


His students would say to him, look, on the one hand you are telling us that your poetry does not come from your own mind, that you are only a vessel and that spirits or ghosts are speaking through you, like a Ouija board; and yet on the other your poetry is filled with exactly all the things that interest you. And Spicer explained this by his theory of the “furniture in the room,” itself taken and bent slightly from the essay “Le Roman Demeuble,” by Willa Cather, the novelist he admired. Cather’s thesis was that the 19th century novel had been overstuffed with things—descriptions, antecedents, clothes, jewelry, interiors, gesture, and that the modern novel was the novel “without furniture.” Anyhow Spicer changed the terms a bit and began to defend his dictation theories by arguing that the ghosts come into one’s brain and can only work on what’s there inside the individual poet to work with, like poltergeists, those earthbound spirits who can only communicate with the living by dragging furniture around. If you know two or three languages, that’s more furniture the ghosts can use to make their message clearer. If you have a rich and varied emotional life, that’s even more furniture. Everything you know and everything you’ve felt gets stored up inside one’s mind in a key Freudian interchange, and that’s what the ghosts use. Thus, Spicer argued, his knowledge of jazz, of linguistics, of baseball, of High German, would naturally come into his poetry. They might as well be the letters in a bowl of alphabet soup. The ghosts use what they can and in some poets, for example, Ferlinghetti, there wasn’t much there to use.

 

 

I interviewed Ferlinghetti a few years ago and he was very polite and so forth but after the interview was over he said, “But Kevin, what I don’t understand is, why write a whole book about Jack Spicer? He’s almost forgotten nowadays, isn’t he?” I said, no, actually there are many interested in his work. He said, “Waste your time if you want to, but I can’t imagine anybody publishing it.”

I drew myself up rather coldly and replied, “Well, maybe thanks to your help we can revive his memory. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ferlinghetti.”

I mean, in a way, the Beats, whom Spicer disliked so much, were, with their “first thought best thought,” “spontaneous bop prosody” awfully close to the idea of the poet as medium, except that Spicer scorned their misuse of mediumship, because the results, or so he thought, were in the interest of “self-expression.” The banality of self-expression was this hideous thing to him, perhaps because of his LA background, and besides, once you’ve seen a murder in space, one’s own self loses charm, and the selves of others are beneath poetry. I remember once, I was interviewing Allen Ginsberg, who knew Spicer very well, and he spoke very openly about their differences, until I asked him what he felt about Spicer’s very last poem, which in commonly read as an attack on him.

At least we both know shitty the world is. You

—-wearing a beard as a mask to disguise it. I

—-wearing my tired smile. I don’t see how you

—-do it. One hundred thousand university

—-students marching with you. Toward

A necessity which is not love but is a name.

King of the May. A title not chosen for dancing.

—-The police

Civil but obstinate. If they’d attacked

The kind of love (not sex but love), you gave

—-the one hundred thousand students I’d have been

—-very glad. And loved the policemen. Why

Fight the combine of your heart and my heart or

—-anybody’s heart. People are starving.2


So Allen said, “I don’t know if I know that poem. What book is it in?” Well, he continued to deny ever having heard of the poem, even after I sent him a copy. So about six months later he was in, I don’t know where he was, in Prague or somewhere, and Dennis Cooper and Mark Ewert were staying in his apartment in New York and called me up. I asked them to go through the books—which were in alphabetical order—and see if any of Spicer’s books were there. One stayed on the line and the other came back with the book—Spicer’s last book, the posthumously published Book of Magazine Verse. “Well, turn to the end,” I commanded and you’ll never guess what happened.

 

 

I see I’m running out of space and time and wanted to send you off with parts of a questionnaire I’ve been transcribing, a questionnaire Spicer was in charge of in his capacity as publications chairman for the Oakland chapter of the Mattachine Society in 1953. This was one of the first gay liberation groups in the USA and prospective new members were encouraged to answers as many questions as they cared to, for sociological purposes, while retaining their anonymity. There are dozens and dozens of questions and these are just a few…

18. I can __________, cannot __________, be spotted “a mile off”; two miles off and I don’t care __________; I do care very much __________, somewhat __________, a little __________; I watch myself constantly __________, a lot __________, somewhat __________, seldom __________, when I remember __________, never __________.

19. The item, starred “*” on the list in question 13 above, is the characteristic which I feel gives me aweay most often. (Star several if you feel there is more than one.) I am not aware of any give aways __________.

31. I am married to a member of the opposite sex __________, happily __________, unhappily __________, outwardly satisfactorily but inwardly torn between conflicting loyalties __________.

32. I wish I were married __________, “married” __________, living with a homosexual friend __________, living with parents __________, living with (other relations) __________, living with a lover __________, alone __________.

33. I am very good looking __________, fairly good looking __________, unusual looking __________, interesting looking __________, ordinary __________, plain __________, homely __________, ugly __________, some of each at times __________, don’t know __________, don’t care __________.

37. At work I hope to heaven they don’t find out __________, don’t care if they do find out __________, don’t think about it __________.

38. I hope my relations never find out __________, I have told them __________, don’t care if they do find out __________;

They found out accidentally __________, they have known all along __________, and are resigned to it __________, object to it __________, have cut me off __________, take it in their stride __________, they are rather proud of me __________;

My parents do __________, do not __________, know; if they find out they will take it in their stride __________, be proud of me anyway __________, cut me off __________, it will probably kill them __________.

46. I always dress to look my “sharpest” __________, to look masculine even if it entails studied carelessness and roughness __________, sometimes let myself/allow myself touches of the opposite sex __________, exactly the way I please __________, always conventionally so as not to be overly noticed __________, honestly don’t care about my clothes __________.

The general ensemble usually turns out masculine __________, more or less masculine __________, feminine __________, more or less feminine __________, startlingly bohemian __________, acceptably bohemian __________, acceptably intellectual __________, well-tailored __________, acceptably groomed __________, don’t know __________, don’t care __________.
—-

 

*

p.s. Hey. If anyone reading this is in Washington, DC or its environs, Zac Farley’s and my film PERMANENT GREEN LIGHT will be showing there on August 26, 8 pm, at Suns Cinema. More info and tickets via this link. Please go if you’re there and can, thanks! ** Shane Christmass, Hi, man. That is weird. Ah, interested to read that story, you bet. Everyone, awesome author Shane Christmass has a new story up, part of which is ‘written’, as he puts it, using AI software. Intrigued? Here ’tis. Thank you for rescuing my book! ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Well, I think successfully being not the thing you actually want to fuck but a close enough short-term simulacrum is a good escort’s forte. ** Steve Erickson, And you know what, I bet there are quite a number of alt-right gays shopping for escorts as we speak/type. Hoping one of those actors works out and has a home-recording set up to boot. Oops, good luck with the dentist. ** Misanthrope, Nope, never met or interviewed River Phoenix. I did walk past him once on Melrose Blvd. He was with some friends and looking particularly grubby (in a good way) and stoned (in a good way). Non-writers can be so wacky, it’s true. Poor things. Passport in the bag! Trip at your fingertips! You go, birthday boy! ** Armando, Hi. Why ‘weird’? Because my friends died. Your day was more eventful than mine. I just worked. Well, and wrote some emails. Thank you for the condolences. No problem at all asking if I’ve read your emails. I’m the one at fault there. Good day and luck to you too! ** Okay. Today I give you the second of a series of restored posts made for the blog by the late and very great writer Kevin Killian. This one is old enough that it predates the release some years ago of  ‘Poet Be Like God’, the superb and highly recommended biography of Jack Spicer that he co-wrote with Lewis Ellingham. Enjoy your days. See you tomorrow.

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IngmarBergman, 24
District of Columbia

I make my life a masterpiece for myself and I imagine no limitations on what I have ,can be or do .. just don’t make me call you daddy ,cause I get so annoyed and creeped out by that.

Guestbook of IngmarBergman

IngmarBergman (Owner) – July 26, 2019
I finally let it happen .. and its appeal did not escape me.

suckifyoulike – July 26, 2019
since when are you a bottom? who are you trying to kid?!

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Athletic
Body hair Some
Speaks English
Position Versatile
FF Active/passive
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Needs discussion
Rate per hour 350 $
Overnight 1500 $

 

______________

daddywhereuat, 21
Berlin

Hi,
Im a part time porn star, luxury escort, VIP social accompaniest, trophy boyfriend simulator, and a fully recovered alcoholic.

What I am looking for is a stable, monogamous* relationship with a high class, very wealthy, and most importantly sober “owner” who would keep me housed and pampered and manage my career and affairs. *Obviously your friends or associates would be entitled to the use of my services at no additional cost whenever you choose. I would need to travel away to shoot a porn, but its just a few days a month.

My requirements are the following: Either be in love with me or be very good at pretending. Keep me far away from alcohol. Don’t require me to cum more than one day a week, preferably much less often. I’m not very horny to begin with and I need to save what sperm I have for the porn shoots. I would prefer as much of the action I’m subjected to privately and on the job to be as bareback as possible, but a condom now and then won’t kill me.

Guestbook of daddywhereuat

Anonymous – Aug 13, 2019
Luck!

FranklinWilson – Aug 13, 2019
Ok I took a chance and moved him in with me. Wish me luck.

daddywhereuat (Owner) – July 27, 2019
I do enjoy sex, even if I’m averse to showing outward signs of that enjoyment, but I have never had sex in my life without financial compensation, even with acquaintances, and this is just my way. Money is not my philosophy, but it lies at the core of my ethics.

misterlusitano55 – July 27, 2019
He accompanied me on a business trip to Hong Kong. His sense of entitlement is off the charts. He carried one of those portable pay station devices that waiters use everywhere we went. When I so much as put my arm around him, he pulled out the pay station, negotiated a price, and swiped my credit card, and sex with him was efficient at most.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Speaks English, German, Polish, Italian
Position Bottom only
FF Active/passive
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Never
Rate per hour 750 €
Overnight 8000 €

 

______________


worththemoney, 25
Butte

I ordered my Nazi uniform, it will be ready in July.

I do not hide my fetish, but I do not want my face to be seen on the internet wearing such a uniform. Therefore, there will be no facial pictures of me in the uniform. I ask you to respect this.

If you have a problem with this way of playing, please spare me with moral appeals. I realize that this is not quite ok.

And another thing: For my conscience, all the fantasies and wishes have absolutely nothing to do with my political attitude. I am neither right nor do I follow these approaches!

What I offer:

– WW2 Play
– Overseer / Prisoner
– Torture / humiliation
– To live out the sadism in its most perverted form and feel the power that is in the uniform.

Since this whole thing is morally borderline, and sometimes very quickly can conflict with the law, discretion are a prerequisite for me.

Acceptimg clients soon as the uniform is finished, of course. Unfortunately I only have the cap.

Dick XXL, Uncut
Orientation Hetero
Body Athletic
Body hair Some
Speaks English
Position Top only
FF FF Active
S&M Yes
Oral Bottom only
Safer sex Never
Rate per hour 500 $
Overnight 1200 $

 

______________


dandeliontequila, 20
Lansing

I’m 20 years old, I have no gay or escort experience but I really think this is nice.

Looking for something paid and regular with someone (<48yo) near campus, and when I say near, I mean within 3ish minute walk.

I have a girlfriend, but I’m not sure what that means in 2019.

Guestbook of dandeliontequila

thefineline – Aug 6, 2019
was obviously repulsed by me and did a very poor job of hiding that

Anonymous – July 31, 2019
I’ve been in the shower room with him at U and his cock is very small but his ass is even more incredible than you can imagine.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Speaks English, Swedish
Position Prefer not to answer
FF No
S&M No
Oral More bottom
Safer sex Always
Rate per hour 350 $
Overnight On request

 

_____________

IncestBoy, 18
Las Vegas

I want to like someone, do luvlyduvly corny stuffs with them. Or else just someone to hang, sex with is ok. Cuddle is good :)). I joke alot and swear too, It does not mean I hate anyone It’s just my passion haha. Incredibly childish, sometimes I say stuffs that are not sweet. It’s like 3am and making this ad just cost me $9 which is total fucking bullshit.

Guestbook of IncestBoy

Brad – July 29, 2019
He is now Brad’s Son. That is now his name. Brad’s Son used to be off and on here, flaky and selective but now I have control over his choices.
Feel free to tell him what you’d do to him. He asked me to include that he has some sort of bucket list. I think it’s safe to assume the list does not include sex.

checkerboard11 – July 21, 2019
Very odd combination of excessive affection (as long as you keep your hands to yourself) and undisguised hostility (when you don’t)

IncestBoy (Owner) – July 8, 2019
I’m not FtM! Its not that tiny! God I fucking hate you! Not joking this time. I hate you!!!!!

leo_191 – July 8, 2019
Maybe it seemed tiny because he’s FtM pre-op?!

u________ – July 8, 2019
mushy ♥️& okay 🧠& tiny 🍆& drab 🍑& waste of 🕰

Dick S, Cut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Smooth
Speaks English
Position Bottom only
FF No answer
S&M Soft SM
Oral Bottom
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour 100 $
Overnight 400 $

 

_____________



LoveFatDaddy, 20
Chicago

I’m a diapertwink meaning a twink as well as an ab/dl. I’m mostly interested in attracting others who are into overgrown babies who look superficially like twinks.

Being full-on in my helpless baby head space there’s really nothing I won’t do or rather could stop you from doing. Like all babies I’m not so into pain or blood. But anything else I’m game to try, and I do mean anything else *cough* fisting *cough*

Not sure what else to put so if I didnt scare you off yet, and you dont mind being around a cuddly baby who doesn’t look like one then give me a shout.

Guestbook of LoveFatDaddy

hornyFFman – Aug 10, 2019
JayReese, I noticed that too!

JayReese – Aug 10, 2019
Gets a Deer in Headlights look when you fist his hole.

CurtinCall – July 24, 2019
An extremely unrealistic baby.

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Athletic
Body hair Some
Speaks English
Position More bottom
FF Passive
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

______________


armybrat, 18
Charlottesville

My father was a drill sergeant growing up, so I follow orders well, depending on where and when I am. Currently in AROTC, looking at enlisting unless you have a better idea. Looking for $$$, sex, friends, and the like.

Guestbook of armybrat

armybrat (Owner) – July 16, 2019
No disrespect but please don’t waste time. Go straight to the point, say what brings you firmly and commandingly:
– What body parts do you want and what do you want to do with them?
– How many hours do you want?
– When do you want the body delivery and where?

Dick M, Cut
Orientation Hetero
Body Average
Body hair Some
Speaks English
Position Versatile
FF No
S&M Yes
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Never
Rate per hour 250 $
Overnight On request

 

______________


ONLYUNCLESLIKEME, 18
Brussels

If there was an allowance for being cute, I would have been a millionaire by now😛 So yeah. Hold your hearts gentleman and not so gentle (in bed😛) men because….🤔 I don’t know why just hold them😀😀

I’m looking for cash lays💸😳 and I am 17 am I’m half spinach half Morocco🌋👅 and I smoke a lot of weed🌿🚬 and I only speak (English) and I don’t care how old👴 you are the older🎅 the better😀😀

Guestbook of ONLYUNCLESLIKEME

Anonymous – July 20, 2019
goblins and kleftronia Or bad erection of active keeps five minutes and before it completely says shed but seed nothing

nikos47 – July 11, 2019
tell us the gold … … the place is scorching

sleepyboo – July 11, 2019
Also here how is so in the profile the black of the carpet has My wants and scouting

Anonymous – July 7, 2019
He is a hot kid but he does not feel like a photo is a beautiful person, but here he is like the crazy village

Anonymous – Jun 27, 2019
Caution is trying to sell miserable drugs to make money for his dose

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Speaks Farsi, French, English
Position More top
FF FF Active
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour 600 €
Overnight 3000 €

 

_____________



CuteBookworm, 18
Solna

My name is Eric. I would rather speak English but I can speak Swedish. My hobby is reading whether it is news paper, news, novels, G K book or any knowledgeable book written by any good author. I always read story books, news paper, magazines, and any other material that I find interesting in my free time. This hobby of reading books of mine was first noticed by my father and he motivated me by saying that it is a very good habit my son given to you naturally, never let this habit off and keep it in practice.

Guestbook of CuteBookworm

CuteBookworm (Owner) – Aug 4, 2019
But I would kill somebody to have sex with Shrek.

CuteBookworm (Owner) – Aug 4, 2019
Hi. Although I’ve been identifying as gay for a while now, my latest experiences seemed to point me toward a more asexual spectrum.

thanfrench02 – Aug 4, 2019
I’ve had a boy’s face tied to my arse for several weeks with no breaks and would love it again with you.

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Average
Body hair Little
Speaks Swedish, Danish, German, English
Position Unknown
FF No
S&M No
Oral No answer
Safer sex No answer
Rate per hour 100 €
Overnight 600 €

 

______________



skinnyprince, 21
Saint Petersburg

Hi to everyone on here.. I am here business.. looking for a serious partner for a serious business.. I am looking for a representative or a buyer of gold bars that my late uncle left behind for me. It’s very urgent.. Thank you..

Guestbook of skinnyprince

skinnyprince (Owner) – July 27, 2019
What is going on here right now ?????

csabcsika – July 26, 2019
He’s still beautiful, he just looks and acts totally insane.

Kelvinice – July 26, 2019
That’s a shame. He was such a beautiful boy.

csabcsika – July 26, 2019
I know this escort and he has recently lost his mind.

Dick S, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Speaks Russian, English
Position No answer
FF No answer
S&M No answer
Oral No answer
Safer sex No answer
Rate per hour 10000 ₽
Overnight 100000 ₽

 

_____________

Tony, 18
Manchester

Hey, I’m a secret fag boy from around Manchester and I’m just on here because I think I’ve been getting horny looks from the father one of one of my mates and I want to see if he’s about! If you aren’t the father of my mate then I don’t think we’re gonna get very far sorry!

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Smooth
Speaks English
Position Versatile
FF No answer
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

______________

twink4sleepingpills, 19
Chicago

Hi, I’m a broke college student who just happens to be very into the whole limp fetish. I love being knocked out while somebody uses my body, and I desperately need money so … We would need to have dinner or drinks first so I’m sure you’re not a murderer 🙂

Guestbook of twink4sleepingpills

invisibleman69 – Aug 5, 2019
Pay attention to him before you dose him! He’s fascinating!

Dick S, Cut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Little
Speaks English, French
Position Bottom only
FF Passive
S&M Yes
Oral Top
Safer sex Never
Rate per hour On request
Overnight 800 $

 

_____________



YouNaked4me, 22
Billericay

I’ve been traveling in the desserts of my mind and I haven’t found a drop of life ||-\\

I’m not sure if I’m gay.
I do not feel well with girls.
Find gays interesting
Especially if they say I have a great ass.

Oh and I’m also a virgin, no really I am.

Guestbook of YouNaked4me

YouNaked4me (Owner) – July 31, 2019
If you’re referring to what I think you’re referring to that didn’t count.

JacobXOXO – July 31, 2019
no really he isn’t.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Unknown
Body Average
Body hair Little
Speaks English
Position Unknown
FF No
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour 180 £
Overnight 500 £

 

______________




TellMeImGay, 23
Brooklyn

Listen, straight guy, doing a service. What happens and evolves afterwards is secondary. Really important u understand that. But I fuck and look Better then ur ex. Any of ur exes. Thats why Im ur fucking bitch right now. Im Better than Better, Maybe im lying. Im sadder then yall with the money and the freedom.

Guestbook of TellMeImGay

lance2019 – Aug 3, 2019
He’s a cute guy but it’s a ripoff. He only let me jack him off while he watched straight porn. But on my way out I stole his used, stinky socks. I’ve got them down my pants right now while I’m at work and I can feel them rub against my bollocks as I sit at my desk and I can smell his hot sweaty foot aroma coming from my trousers while I work…. fuck yeah!

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Hetero
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Speaks English, Portuguese, Spanish
Position Versatile
FF FF Active
S&M Soft SM
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour 80 $
Overnight 300 $

 

______________

InsideRiver, 20
Kansas City

Hello! Everyone thinks I’m the spitting image of River Phoenix. Do you want to be inside me? I’m also a poet working on his undergraduate degree. Free service to editors of respectable literary journals who will publish my poems.

Guestbook of InsideRiver

Mischiefenthusiast – July 22, 2019
shit in his arse makes the world go by quicker

Dick L, Cut
Orientation Bi
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Speaks English
Position Versatile
FF No
S&M No answer
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour 300 $
Overnight 1000 $

 

______________



mylifeisboringcrap, 24
Melbourne

I am a bottom, but I’m not making this ad to find a SugarDaddy in the usual sense. I want to be raped for $500. I want to be forced to take cock and used like a disposable hole in order to get off. I realize, trust-and-legal-wise, that’s a tricky situation, but I have experience — some very real, some more prearranged — in being raped.

Presently have no fucking clue about my HIV or STD status, but for my entire sexual (and pre-sexual) life men have been raping me bareback (in the pre-teens, without my knowledge or consent) and I have grown used to that issue of whether I’m sick or not, and I don’t want to know. So, take your chances.

As for why I do this, if you care, I have always been attracted to a person who gets off destroying somebody else’s self-image, self-worth, and self-love. There is no greater high than being completely broken psychologically. Experiencing ego death is better than any other accomplishment in my opinion. It is like heroin, and you and your cock are the needle that gets it to me.

Guestbook of mylifeisboringcrap

ccicc – July 28, 2019
@Multipleman – Loved your colourful report but it still sounds like no more than a $100 fuck to me.

Multipleman – July 28, 2019
What I got for my $500.
Pure focus on me.
Boy ass — Man skills.
Zero fuss. Straight forward rape.
Zero drama. Zero maintenance. Pure focus. Pure submission.
Felt his lust for my pleasure. Let it unleash me.
Used his little ass. Hurt it. Took it.
Forced it open. Forced it to respond to every thrust.
Spanked his quivering juicy pink hole.
Made it RED. Made it hurt! Smashed it!
Raped his hurt smashed hole.
It could not resist and responded to every violent stab.
Pounded my cum deep into him. Forced him to absorb my essence.
He convulsed as he bucked and milked my huge orgasm.
Opened his mind with my force as his beaten hole closed to hold my gift inside him.
Thank you mylifeisboringcrap!

topitalianxxlmacho – July 16, 2019
Note the photos are not current, his face is more sepulchral but still handsome in a slightly scary way.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Speaks English
Position Bottom only
FF Passive
S&M Yes
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Never
Rate per hour 500 $
Overnight On request

 

_______________

geilekroonaapzuiger, 18
Delft

im a masturbator and i sell sexy pics

Guestbook of geilekroonaapzuiger

Anonymous – Aug 10, 2019
DANGER! Child pornography sting operation!

geilekroonaapzuiger (Owner) – Aug 5, 2019
my life has take a very deep downward spiral and i want to put it back together. my whole life i felt like i been missing something and now i have seen the light and know selling my pics is the life i need to living. i need to do this i need to revamp my life for the better because i cant do it. i thought i was this independent person but i am not. i was wrong. i need control of my life and im offering to show 100% of my body. i dont have contact with family and i dont really have friends so im easy. well thats my spill.

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Slim
Body hair Smooth
Speaks Dutch, English
Position No
FF No
S&M No
Oral No
Safer sex Always
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

_______________

intrinsicallySo, 18
Toulouse

I may love my video games but I’m willing to get action as long as none of it interferes with my video games.

Guestbook of intrinsicallySo

Robervd – July 24, 2019
skip

scientist_2 – July 17, 2019
You can also rim him while he plays lying on his stomach but he complains that you’re distracting him a lot.

MrJones – July 12, 2019
Plan whatever you want to do with him to last no more than about 15 minutes because that’s as long as he’s willing to pause his game.

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Slim
Body hair Little
Speaks French, English
Position Versatile
FF No answer
S&M No answer
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Needs discussion
Rate per hour 60 €
Overnight 80 €

 

_______________


Problematic, 19
London

This is my lying, cheating boyfriend. What would you pay to make his hole into a slack permanently gaped fist hole?

Update July 2019: Since those photos were taken he has had extensive facial surgery so he has a very feminine face.

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Speaks Ukrainian, English
Position Bottom only
FF Passive
S&M Yes
Oral Versatile
Safer sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour 300 £
Overnight 500 £

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** Armando, Hi, man. Yeah, I seem to have missed it yesterday. I’m good. Things have been kind of weird, but good as well. Today? Work on various things, a meeting, not sure what else yet. You? No, I haven’t gotten to your emails yet, I’m very sorry. It’s been a hard summer. Two sudden and unexpected deaths from cancer of two close friends and a lot of work chaos related in part to one of those deaths, and I’m more behind than even usual. I will try to get to your emails as soon as possible. Sorry again. ** David Ehrenstein, Santa’s pretty wily. He has probably already set up shop in northern Norway or somewhere. ** Sypha, And now I remember the last time and your lovely add/suggestion. Thank you again. I did look into seeing the Tarantino yesterday, but all the showings in my vicinity were sold out, so I’ll try again late this week or at the weekend. ** Steve Erickson, That’s a plausible Santa source theory. I did read some seemingly authoritative explanation somewhere of where he came to be, but I’m blanking on it. Could have been that. Everyone, If you have any curiosity about Roberto Minervini’s new documentary WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHEN THE WORLD’S ON FIRE?, and I know I do, you can preface or combine your discovery with Mr. Erickson’s opinion of it. Here. Yay about The Quietus giving you the go ahead! Fantastic news! ** _Black_Acrylic, Ha ha, but, yes, it kind of does, doesn’t it. Drat. ** Well, that was easy. Okay. It’s the 15th of the month, and, assuming you’ve been keeping up with  your days’ dates, you probably already knew what that meant about this place before you even clicked into here. See you tomorrow.

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