Made it through another one

Year, that is. How, I don't always know, and why, I don't really ever know. But here I am, regardless. And life, in its inexorable way, goes on.
I hope all of the readers of my blog have a happy, healthy and successful 2016. And I hope, selfish as it may be, that I have at least some good stuff happening for me. But I probably hope in vain, in that respect.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A meeting

It happened, at work, about three hours ago. After literally years of near misses, I finally met a a little guy I've heard so much about over the past five years. And he was every bit as delightful as I'd imagined. I met his big bro, too, and he's almost as lovely, albeit, at nearly 15, rapidly heading out of my 'window of attraction'. Their dad, my best friend at work, said, after they'd left with Mum - my friend was on nights, and the family had dropped him off after a visit to his niece, whose birthday it was today - that he'd arrange a 'proper meeting' - his words - another time. I really hope that comes to fruition. I didn't quite fall in love with the little man this evening, but it could happen soooo easily. And like Cammy, it's nothing to do with sex. It's simply the idea of an emotional connection with someone so perfectly 'boy'.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A find

A film that I'd been looking for, despite my being not even close to being a film buff, for quite a while. I'd found a couple of clips, some stills, and a number of links to rather nefarious looking 'subscription' sites promising the full movie, but in the early hours of this morning, I found a complete version (more or less, anyway, I think the last couple of minutes were missing) I could watch online. I'd seen it described as 'the silliest film ever' on one website, but, given what I already knew about it, that wasn't going to deter me. Because the film concerned was Genesis Children. Famous, or notorious, for its portrayal of naked teenage (and a couple of borderline preteen, maybe 11 or 12 year old) boys. I can't lie, it was that reputation that drew me to want to watch the film. And nudity there was, a-plenty. And a number of the boys were absolute cuties. But, apart from a very brief and mild physical reaction to the first nude scene, I watched unaroused. Because it simply wasn't that kind of film. A review I found described it as 'child pornography' made by and for 'perverts', but that is exactly what it wasn't (I'm pleased to say that review has only received 8 'likes' from 33 responses). There wasn't a single sexual reference, as far as I could discern, in the whole film. It was, instead, a sort of sub-Lord of the Flies experience, a typical (as far as my very limited knowledge of the genre is concerned) 'arthouse' piece of its time, with lots of New Age-ish psychobabble and pseudo-philosophy, but with virtually nothing actually happening. Silly? Maybe. Pretentious? Almost certainly. But pornography? Never in a million years. Unless, of course, you're one of those unfortunates, usually religiously motivated, who find any and all nudity pornographic. Whatever else, though, despite my being pleased to have had the chance to see the film, I very much doubt if I'll ever watch it again. Life's too short!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A true original

In today's media, hyperbolic words like 'legend' are bandied around so freely as to become virtually meaningless. There are, though, the occasional exceptions that prove the rule, and one such has been in the news today, having died last night. Lemmy, the founder not only of Motorhead, but of a whole genre of rock music. I've been a fan of the band almost since their inception, although I never have seen them live (and now never will, of course), their brand of ultra-loud, flat out rock being exactly the sort of music I've always been the most attracted to. The Planet Rock DJ who announced the news of Lemmy's death first thing this morning called him a 'true original'. I can't think of a more apposite description.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Chaotic

That's pretty much where my head's been today. I guess the fact that I've been up for more than 24 hours might qualify as a mitigating circumstance - finishing nights can sometimes be as problematic as starting them - but, for whatever reason, the emotional rollercoaster has been in full swing. As ever, it's all about boys - I got myself thoroughly chewed up about my attractions this morning, but then deliberately went out on an 'eye candy' cruise (by bus, of course, and cuties there were, in force), before fetching up in my local, seeing the cute brother of the disabled girl, but feeling guilty for even looking in his direction. I'm not suggesting that I deserve to be happy, but a smidgen of equilibrium might be nice, every now and again.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Spam doesn't often make me laugh, but....

....I've found one in my 'blog' e-mail spam folder this morning that definitely raised a chuckle - it was advertising a 'Christian dating' website. Quite apart from the fact that I doubt they've got any cute boys on their books, the idea of me, a thoroughly outspoken atheist, looking for anyone by way of their service is utterly laughable.
And to add to the hilarity, the DJ on Planet Rock has just, while I'm typing this, plugged a forthcoming gig by saying it's going to be happening 'at the London Palladium, in London'. You don't say! I never would've worked that one out, without your estimable geographical knowledge!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Fifteen minutes revisited, boys and festivities

Our newish, openly gay guy at work was looking after the position next to me on Monday evening, and mentioned that he'd been flicking through satellite channels recently. And had found my proverbial 'fifteen minutes of fame', by way of a rerun of the final of the TV quiz series I'd contrived to win a loooong time ago. I, in turn, mentioned it to K, as she'd never seen my 'performance', and she managed to find it on YouTube, watching the programme on Tuesday. The subject came up at work on Wednesday night, as I was talking to my friend (recently elevated to shift manager). Within a few minutes, not only him, but two of my other colleagues, were watching the final on their respective mobile phones. It was a little bit bizarre, really, thinking about these guys seeing me as I was twenty years ago (the programme was recorded at the end of 1995), and thinking about my life and all that's transpired since.
I finished work for my Christmas break at 7:00 yesterday morning, doing the last of shopping - the all-important Christmas Day beer and wine! - on the way home. K was working, so I had every intention of going out again, but it didn't really happen to any great extent - between dozing in the armchair and some not very user-friendly weather, I didn't leave the flat again until early afternoon, and found myself in my local little more than two hours later. It wasn't as busy as I'd been expecting, and, disappointingly, none of 'my' boys appeared - I was hoping to see Cammy, at least, but it wasn't to be. There was one delicious eye candy moment when I made my way home, though - K fancied a Chinese takeaway by way of our evening meal, and while I was in the shop waiting for the food to be cooked, a family came in, parents and three boys. All of the boys were cute enough, but 'middle bro', 12/13-ish, was a real stunner. Would that I could have taken him away, along with the chow mein and sweet and sour!
And now it's Christmas Day, so I'd like to wish all of you a happy and peaceful festive season. K and I will spend the day pigging out on food and drink, I suspect, probably not the healthiest option, but a fun one! Merry Christmas!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Out of nowhere

Last night's adorable boy has taken up residence in my head during the course of today, while I've been out and about, going to the doctor's again to try to sort medication issues out (and failing again - in fact, I've ended up by being prescribed yet another pill, on a 'trial' basis) before dabbling in some Christmas grocery shopping - I'll do some more on the way home from work in the morning. The way he's made me feel is summed up pretty succinctly by a song I heard on the radio this afternoon, From Out Of Nowhere by Faith No More. The first five lines 'Tossed into my mind, stirring the calm/You splash me with beauty and pull me down/You came from out of nowhere/My glance turns to a stare/Obsession rules me, I'm yours from the start'. And then the plaint, near the end - 'And it hurts inside'. Says it all, really.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The ultimate ghost

I hardly even know how to describe what has happened in the past hour or so. A précis might read 'came in, ate fish and chips, left'. An expanded version could say that the perfect boy has been in my local this evening, and that I'll probably never see him again. Beautiful, graceful - he was showing off his dance moves - but still boyishly exuberant with it, affectionate, if his interaction with his mother was anything to go by. If I had one, I'd sell my soul for an hour in his company. I can barely believe, even given the numerous precedents, how smitten I am. And now he's gone, almost certainly forever. I don't know what else to say.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It's official

'Next door but one cutie', and, obviously, his family, have definitely gone. I've received an e-mail from my landlord regarding some 'issues' with their departure, and the arrival of new tenants. I'm more than used to the 'ghosts' coming and going, but for a beautiful boy I've been more than a little taken with for more than a year and a half to disappear is a bitter pill indeed. Not that I had any expectation that he would ever be 'my boy', but it's still so disappointing that I'll never see him again. Yeah, transience is the boylover's lot, as I've said before, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Unimaginable

At least, it would have been for most of my life, certainly the first three-quarters of it. The last deep coal mine in the UK ceased production today. The job my dad did for 45 years, underground coal miner, effectively doesn't exist anymore in this country. Two days after our elected dictatorship voted, without a debate, to allow 'fracking' for shale gas in previously protected areas like national parks. The politicos talk about 'market forces', but I'm more than sufficiently cynical to wonder how many parliamentary palms have been greased to bring about this state of affairs. All politicians are vile, as far as I'm concerned, but Conservative politicians are completely egregious.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It was so nice to see him smile

There's a family that goes into my local, who, obviously, given my all too regular attendance, I've seen on a goodly number of occasions. The various members of the family appear with widely differing frequency, though. Mum is almost never there - I think I've only ever seen her once - Dad is pretty much a regular, albeit probably not quite as regular as me, while the oldest daughter is there by far the most often, for the simple reason that she works there. The two younger siblings are what this post is really about, though. The middle child, who comes in quite often with her dad, is disabled - cerebral palsy, at a guess - and while she's 13 (as I accidentally found out recently), her disability means that she's pretty much at the level, linguistically and behaviourally, of a toddler. Very sad, of course, that an individual's potential should be so thwarted by something completely beyond anyone's control, but such things, unfortunately, do happen. The youngest child is a boy, around 11, who used to come in a fair bit, but who I hadn't seen for some months until this evening. When I have seen him before, though, I've been struck time and again by one thing. With his sister being, perforce, the centre of attention, he always seems to be overlooked. And I'm pretty sure, even at his young age, that he's well aware of it. To say that he has 'sad dog eyes' much of the time is, if anything, a considerable understatement. He doesn't appear to complain, never plays up, just looks heartbreakingly sad and lonely. As was the case when they first came in this evening, and I passed their table en route to the bar. Everyone was fussing around sis, while he sat at the table on his own. For once, though, a few minutes later, when they were ordering food, he was paid some attention - the staff evidently know him through 'big sis' working there - and the change in him was little short of miraculous. He suddenly became an animated, smiley boy, as you might expect of someone of his age. It was so lovely to see, like the proverbial flower blooming. The family eventually left just before I did, but I saw them again in the supermarket across the road a few minutes later when I called in to buy something for my evening meal. The boy looked at me, obviously recognising me, and I gave him a little smile of my own. He returned it with interest, and did a little pirouette, for good measure! Just amazing, that such simple things can have such a profound effect.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Boys, boys, everywhere....

....nor any one to hug. The Rime of the Ancient Boylover, maybe. It certainly has been one of those days, the ones when I'm absolutely swarmed with cuties, all, of course, just out of reach (there's a Jesus & Mary Chain link there, but you'd have to be a rather anorakish aficionado like me to get it). All of them were eclipsed from the outset, though - about ten minutes after I left work at lunchtime, the first cutie of the day, who I shared a bus with for exactly one stop, was achingly reminiscent of DBJ. Not a very close lookalike, but close enough to tweak the heartstrings more than a little. My head was back in that little Cornish town in a heartbeat. Beautiful boy, what are you doing now, all grown up as you are? It's a lucky girl (or maybe boy, but probably not, from what I saw when you were 13/14) who gets to hold you in their arms.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Indifference

Well, I have to say that four page views in the last two days is a pretty conclusive vote of apathy. So, what do I do about it? Try to appease, make myself more 'popular'? Give up completely, and go and skulk in my closet? Or stick two fingers up to the world, and actually be more 'myself'? The latter certainly appeals a lot more than the two former options.
So, in that vein....Cammy. I saw him earlier this evening, albeit briefly, and the way the encounter went encompassed both aspects of the rollercoaster that little guy induces in me. When he came in, he went straight to the person I've been getting all chewed up over recently and started chatting. My teeth were gritted, my fists clenched. The green-eyed monster, once more. But then, two minutes later, he was smiling and waving at me, which I returned in kind, of course. And my spirits were back up again. What would I want from Cammy, in an ideal world? Not sex, and absolutely not penetrative sex, he's far, far too young, and commensurately small, to even think about that. But a friend, and a 'cuddle buddy'? I'd love that so much. Not that I have the slightest expectation of such an eventuality, but the daydream won't go away. Or if not Cammy, one of the other cuties I've seen in my local of late. But they're just as far out of reach as he is. 'Never' used to be the scariest word in the world. Now it's just a fact of life.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Innominate

I'd have written this post earlier, but I couldn't decide what to call it. So I've plumped for the oxymoronic.
It's about cuties. Just for a change, eh? Two specific cuties, though. Daniel, first of all. The cute barman at my local. I was in there earlier, trying to make the most of the last dregs of my time off - I'm back to the treadmill in the morning - when he came in, to get something to eat (staff discount, and all that!) before his shift. He's well past 18 now - he's been serving behind the bar for months - but there's still enough boy there to turn my head, every time I see him. I'm not nearly unrealistic enough to imagine that he'd ever be interested in me, even if he is gay, which I've always believed, but have no actual evidence of - he hasn't had a visible boyfriend or girlfriend in the 18 months he's been working at the pub, so the question is still open. If there ever was a chance of being with him, though, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Secondly, 'next door but one cutie'. Except that I don't think he is, anymore. Next door but one, that is. The flat has been in darkness, as far as I'm aware, for at least a fortnight. K suggested that they might have gone on holiday, but it would be a very strange time of year for that to be the case, as far as I'm concerned. I think they've moved, either by choice or perforce - I've never seen any sign of the father of the boy and his sister, so it may be that, if their rent is anything akin to ours, that mum can't afford it anymore, or that they've managed to get a council house. If he has gone, it would certainly be a sadness - he's one of the most beautiful boys I've ever seen, on a long term basis, not on a par with DBJ, but only a step or two behind, and, as I've said before, 'little sis' isn't at all difficult to look at, either. Despite the potential problems living more or less next door to a genuine cutie might raise, I'd much rather that he was there than not.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Sweet and sour and sweet

A mixed day, as the title might suggest. The first drop of sweetness tipped over into surfeit - a school on one of my meanders, around lunchtime, was obviously having a half day, because what appeared to be the full complement of pupils were heading for home. Including a very cute boy who got on the bus I was on, who, while he was lovely to look at, started the downswing by getting me thinking about my life as exitless maze, a trough that deepened still further less than ten minutes later when, after having changed buses, I saw an even cuter and even more inaccessible boy from the same school. Inward groaning barely begins to tell the story.
So it was that I arrived at my destination in a less than happy frame of mind, which deteriorated still further when I happened to catch sight of a report on the BBC News Channel. The reporter had been 'embedded' with a police unit en route to an early morning 'child protection' raid, with a nauseatingly smug looking plod saying how 'they knew' the suspect had been 'grooming a child online'. Given the breadth of the definitions of both 'child' and that loathsome word 'grooming' these days, i.e. any contact with any unrelated young person under the age of about 25, and given the propensity of the police to engage in entrapment, I'm afraid my cynicism knows few bounds.
But neither does my disheartenment, either, so I really was pretty low when I went to the rendezvous that was the reason for my being in the area in the first place. But that meeting was when things started looking up again, because I was there to meet K, with a view to buying her Christmas present, a coat she'd seen when she was there with her boyfriend a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, they didn't have what they wanted in her size today, but her company, and the very nice meal we had in a tapas bar near the main shopping street, broke my downbeat mood thoroughly. I probably don't deserve her, but I'm certainly not complaining.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The 'Nightmares in a Damaged Brain' ticket

I almost laughed out loud when I saw the headline in this morning's Metro, referring to Donald Trump potentially being barred from entering the UK because his islamophobic rhetoric might transgress our 'hate speech' laws. I'd love to see that happen, little as I like such legislation because it only ever seems to be invoked to stifle criticism of organised religion, all flavours of which are equally egregious, as far as I'm concerned, but Trump is such a fascistic prick that he richly deserves to be humiliated at some airport or another. We've got more than our fair share of pondlife over here too, though, most notably, of late, the new heavyweight boxing champion of the world. Given some of the utterly vile things Mr Fury has said in the aftermath of his victory in the ring, it seems to me that he'd make the ideal running mate for Trump, but for the inconvenient fact that he isn't American. The only difference that I can see between them is that Trump is stupefied by his ego, whereas Fury is simply stupid.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Knowledge

He knows, or knows I know. His aversion to looking anywhere but in my direction when he served me just now said it all. The jealousy is still there, I can't deny it. But there's a protective instinct, too. If he does anything to hurt the boy, in any way at all, he'll end up being very, very sorry.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tantalised

I'm ending what has been a pretty nice weekend - the 'overnighter' to my brother's went well, good company, including meeting up with friends for drinks last night, then getting back in time to cook dinner for K when she finished work this evening - in what is just about the most frustrating situation I can imagine. Cammy is sitting no more than three feet away - but three feet directly behind me. There's no way I can look in his direction without it being glaringly obvious. And the source of my raging jealousy of the other night is hanging around again, too. Tantalus has nothing on me.

2045 edit: I got a 'Bye' and a smile, so all is not yet lost. Little darling!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Time travel

I found the most unbelievable, amazing thing online at around 1:00 this morning. A photograph. Of virtually the whole of my senior school year group, taken sometime in 1974. Very early in the school year, I suspect, because many of the guys look distinctly younger than the 14 they must have been to be in that year group (4th Year, as we called it, Year 10 in today's parlance) at that time. I say 'they' advisedly, because one of the few absentees from the picture is me. I have no idea why I wasn't there, and I have no recollection that any such picture was taken, or even of any proposal for one. Our school, pretty much, didn't do official photos, apart from occasional sports team pictures. I don't remember every one of them, but, obviously, I do recall the vast majority, given that I went through seven school years with many of them (and even more with a few, because a number of them had come from the same primary school as me), a good number of friends, either then, or at other phases of my school career, one or two outright enemies. And memories. Mark, my best friend for the whole time at the school, but who I subsequently completely lost touch with. Another Mark, the other member of our 'gang of three', who I'd known literally all my life - we were born in the same hospital ward, four days apart, our families becoming friends and keeping in touch as a result, even though he went to a different primary school - who was later killed in a car crash while working in South Africa. Paul, who I've written about somewhere before, a guy I'd just started to get friendly with when he collapsed and died in a PE lesson just a few months later. Yet another Mark, who I became very good friends with for that school year and the one after, before we drifted apart again, and, looking at the picture once more, as I have this morning, one of the few I'd be attracted to if I met him as a boy now, although there was no conscious sexual attraction on my part back then - partly because I was as deeply closeted as it was possible to be, but mostly because my tastes were towards boys a year or two younger, the 11/12/13 group I'm still entranced by now having been my preference even then. Joey, who'd been one of my best friends at primary school, and who I stayed friendly with, but not close to, through senior school - we simply moved in different circles, both socially and academically. Anthony, who took me on my first visit (of innumerably many since!) to drink in a pub, one run by his aunt, if I remember correctly, a year or so later. And, in the front row, the headmaster and the fourth year form masters, including 'the Major', our form teacher, ex-USAF, a stereotypically loud American (including the shirt he was wearing in the picture, as against the conservative jackets and ties of his colleagues!), notorious for never using one word if he could use a hundred! 41 years ago in a town by the sea. It took me a long time to get to sleep last night.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

'Tis the season....

....when pub regulars are thrown under the bus of money-grabbing. In my local this evening - and Fridays are always busy here - more than half of the tables are reserved for a 'party', presumably having a pre-Christmas do of some sort. No doubt the management would justify accepting the booking on 'business' grounds, maximising earnings, and all that, and if you look at tonight in isolation, that's probably valid. But where do they think the majority of their income originates on all the other days of the year? From mugs like me who come in multiple times per week, no matter what date is on the calendar. As it happens, I arrived early enough to snag a niche in an unreserved corner, but I suspect there will be plenty of disgruntled locals over the next couple of hours.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A war of his very own

'Cam's War', the headline in today's Daily Mirror said. Yes, our glorious leader can now proudly rub shoulders with Thatcher, Reagan and Dubya (and his father) - in the ninth circle of hell, where they belong. Cameron's legacy - generations of radicalised Moslems (and the final relegation of the UK to international irrelevance and, quite possibly, economic extinction if he leads the country out of the EU). Sleep well, Dave.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Why does this always seem to happen?

Quite apart from the emotional hangover of yesterday evening, I'm feeling lousy in a physical sense again today. I really want to go out, see the world, or the bit that's covered by my Oystercard, at least, but, at the moment, I'm just not well enough. It's nothing more than a cold, I'm sure, not even a serious enough cold to qualify as the much-ridiculed 'man-flu', but it is enough to leave me thoroughly miserable. I'm supposed to be going down to my brother's this weekend, probably the last chance I'll get to see him and his family, and possibly some of my hometown friends, before Christmas, but whether I'll be in good enough health to do that is rather in the balance at the moment. Given all the hours I work, and the extra hours of commuting on top, it really is utterly frustrating that I always seem to come down with some bug or other whenever I get any time off.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Headfuck

One definition of which, as I found in a slang dictionary last night, is 'someone or something....causing mental instability'. Sums up perfectly the way I reacted, and the way I ended up feeling in response to events in my local yesterday evening. I was already pretty messed up after the R lookalike boy had been and gone, memories of my long-lost (completely one-sided, although he was my friend, until the day he most definitively wasn't anymore) love churning around in my head. And then Cammy arrived, with his parents. I hadn't seen him, at all, for at least a month, and hadn't had any actual 'connection' with him since the day he waved across the pub at me, at the beginning of October. I started to write about what transpired last night in some detail, but I've decided that I can't post it. Suffice it to say, though, that I became insanely, and I use the word advisedly, jealous of the boy's interaction with another, non-family, adult male. I didn't actually do anything, but it was a close-run thing. Just as well my self-control held together, however tenuously, because I'm sure, at the very least, I would've been barred from the pub, if not arrested, if I'd acted on what was in my head. Cammy did wave to me on his way out, which made me feel marginally better, but it was well over an hour later, and after I'd talked through the evening's events with K once I'd got home, that I calmed down properly. Twelve hours or so on, writing this down makes me feel more than a little ridiculous - how can anyone of my age and supposed maturity be so screwed up by his feelings for a boy, and one I'm not even sexually attracted to, because he's simply too young? Ridiculous or not, though, the feelings the scenario induced were all too real, as, of course, any actions they'd betrayed me to would have been. Another step closer to the edge.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

And full of all too familiar experiences, as well

Like the utterly unapproahable cute boy, having a meal with his family in my local and who's just left. To rub a little more salt into the wounds, he was a fair lookalike for R, the boy at school who was the first I fell in love with, nearly forty years ago. As I said all too recently, life is shit, except those times when it's really shit.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Life is full of new experiences

And one such happened earlier this afternoon. I had my hair cut - by my daughter! K has been cutting her own hair for some time, and it always looks fine, despite her using some pretty dodgy scissors, for the most part, but she recently bought some proper hairdressing scissors (for the princely sum of £8!), so I persuaded her to have a go at mine. And she's made a creditable job of it, despite her initial reluctance (in case you don't like it, as she explained). Given my long-standing (almost fifty year!) aversion to having my hair cut, K doing it is much preferable to submitting to some stranger who'll overcharge me and not produce a markedly better result. The other unusual aspect of my doings today is that, despite my still being off work, I haven't been out, apart from a brief grocery shopping trip at lunchtime. I woke up with a raging sore throat, and other cold-related symptoms, this morning, so I've decided on a quiet day in to give my body a bit of recuperation time. The plan is to go back to my meandering ways tomorrow, health issues permitting. I don't want to waste too much of my 'holiday' being stuck indoors, after all.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B