Wednesday, 22 October 2014

The penultimate Orwellian job?

I've just read a blog post quoting a religious right functionary who was described as his organisation's 'vice president of orthodoxy'. Only his boss, presumably, could be closer to 'Big Brother' than that.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Reality checks can be helpful

And this afternoon has been evidence of that. I saw 'the boy on the bus' again, not, I have to admit, entirely coincidentally, but now that I know that the connection I was hoping for is illusory, I was able to simply enjoy sitting a few rows of seats behind him - or, rather, him sitting in front of me, given that I got on the bus several stops before he did - and admiring his good looks and general 'boyness'. Hopefully, that's the best option - I get to see him, but in not trying for more, by approaching him or whatever, he won't get to feel in any way uncomfortable, or worse. The chances for me to see him are pretty limited, in any case, given my working hours and the very narrow 'window of opportunity' for our paths to cross, even by design - it's the bus, or nowhere, effectively. No doubt there would be those who would still criticise me, even for wanting him as eye candy, but, frankly, that's their problem.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

School holiday views

K is on half term holiday next week, but some schools are off this week, and that proved to be the double-edged sword I've mentioned before when I finished work today. 'Worktown' station was 'eye candy central', with three absolutely delicious boys in evidence as I waited for my train home, albeit that one of them was a little guy who was too young by far to do anything other than coo over. The usual heaviness of heart ensued, though, the knowledge of the untouchability of those I'm enamoured with reinforced once more. When I did get back to the flat, there was another little example of that, too, as my next door but one neighbour got off of the same bus as me, a boy of Asian extraction who is, it seems, in his first year at senior school, so 11/12, who I've seen around several times, and who is more than a little cute (his younger sister isn't difficult to look at, either). Seeing 'ghosts' when I'm out and about might have its bittersweet aspects, but having a cutie on the doorstep, almost literally, is potentially rather more problematic. The temptation to try and drum up some sort of acquaintance with him is compelling, but, ultimately, probably not a very good idea. Hopefully, my habitual cowardice will keep me out of trouble.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Monday, 20 October 2014

Freedom - to be what we tell you to be

Another weekend, another gay man's blog and e-mail account obliterated by Google for unaccountable reasons. Sadly, nothing new there, but, in this case, I'll freely admit to partiality, because the blog in question belonged to a good friend of mine, a good man. But personal virtues have no value, it seems, in this context, all that matters to Google and their ilk is to kowtow to those pouring their corporate advertising budget down their collective throat. And those 'paying the piper' appear to me to be driven by motives of christofascist repression, especially when it comes to the LGBT community. I have two hopes - to see Jay back in cyberspace sooner rather than later, and for the corporate fat cats to choke on their own disgusting excess.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Saturday, 18 October 2014

Well, that didn't take long

Back to work at 7:30 this morning after my time off, and, within 20 minutes, the latest dose of 'paedo-baiting' was on, again in response to a TV programme - the delightful phrase 'you'd rip his head off and shove it up his arse' was trotted out on respect of some or other 'character' in the documentary. The phrase that came to my mind was 'isn't it easy to be judgmental when you're not involved'. If the person who was deemed to be worthy of decapitation has coerced anyone, of any age or gender, then punishment is deserved. But 'thoughtcrime' style vilification of who someone is, rather than what they've done, is the top of a very slippery slope.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Friday, 17 October 2014

Where did that go?

I'm now into the afternoon of the last of my 12 days off work, and I can't believe how quickly it's gone, especially considering that I've done almost nothing of any substance. It's back to the grind - and getting up at stupid o'clock - tomorrow. The fact that my alarm will have to be set for 4:30 in the morning means that there's going to be no 'big finale' today - in fact, I haven't been out of the flat yet today, despite getting up before 7:00. I simply haven't been able to work up the energy or enthusiasm, although I may venture into what is a pleasant enough autumnal day after lunch.
There was a little unexpected bonus last night, though - I was out and about, and when I rang K after she'd finished school to see if she wanted to meet up with me at my local for something to eat, she actually said yes! So, tea at the pub it was, and some very congenial time spent together, for once. This time next week, K will be on half-term holiday, but we won't get the chance to do too much during her week's break, because I'm on nights, and she's also planning to go down to the West Country for a few days to catch up with her friends down there. So, last night was all the more welcome - I might even be able to coax her into spending some more time with her boring old dad, who knows!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Thursday, 16 October 2014

It's always the love stories

That make me cry, that is. Especially the stories of unrequited love. Five years ago, give or take, I first discovered a couple of web sites with stories about boys. Men and boys, boys and boys. The specifically erotic ones had the effect that, I guess, they were designed to have. But it was always the love stories that really got under my skin, to the point that I had to stop reading, because I seemed to spend half of my life in tears. I've just read one single chapter of one of those stories, and ended up with tears in my eyes again. It all came back, the tears born of the knowledge of all the mistakes I'd made, the knowledge that I was in love with someone - DBJ, of course - who would, could, never be mine, the realisation that there would almost certainly never be a 'happy ever after' for me. I remember K asking me, that autumn, what was wrong, and my telling her that I couldn't explain it to her. Except that I did, nine months or so later. And now, the beautiful boy I fell in love with in a small Cornish town, who I haven't seen for more than four years, will almost be a man - he's 17, at least, a school year above K, could be 18 already - and more out of reach than ever. And the tears are back.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B