Cruise time

The cruise ship Carnival Spirit, a regular visitor to Sydney departed for its current cruise at dusk this evening.

Carnival Spirit pulls back from its berth at Circular Quay

After a 90º turn, Carnival Spirit is ready to steam out of the harbour

'Who wants to journey on a gigantic yacht?

Do I want a yacht? Oh, how I do not.'

Cole Porter knew something when he wrote those lyrics, I suppose, but I wonder if he would thought those thoughts if he'd seen Octopus entering Sydney Harbour this morning.

We oohed and aahed as we watched its arrival from my balcony.

Rather obligingly Octopus anchored  off Double Bay right in front of my apartment; a position from which it no doubt will have a prime view of the New Year's Eve fireworks.

Check out the link above if you want to know the somewhat garish details of this 'Super Yacht'.

Memories from the cruise

Only a couple of days ago, not yet fading, still fondly remembered.

A glimpse of the dining room

The ship held a Market Day in the Atrium.

I wasn't tempted

The ship churned through an active sea into a strong wind.

The morning sun

Leaving our trail

Sheltering from the wind

One chocolate scoop, please!

The Motown music concert.

'Reach Out, I'll Be There'

'Dancing In The Street'

Getting lucky

SKIP THIS POST IF YOU HAVE NO INTEREST IN THE SEX LIVES OF PROMISCUOUS GAY MEN

Fireworks in Sydney NYE 2014

Andrew's post about the celebration of New Years Eve in simpler times reminded me of a succession of New Years I enjoyed in the late 1970s and the 1980s. The days when sex was not just a daily preoccupation but an essential daily activity. And there was no day - or should I say early morning - better for a memorable encounter than NYE.

You see it is a little discussed fact that there is no day of the year when cute tipsy straight young men are more amenable to a one off encounter - even if it is a gay one - than early morning New Years Day especially if their overnight expectation of scoring with a favoured lady failed to eventuate.

In those days of high sexual activity for me, a frolic in the bushes with a desperately horny good looking young straight man was a delightful way to celebrate the new year. I stress that no rape, coercion or other pressure was involved. These were straight men keen to bring, shall I say, a climax to their NYE celebrations with anyone, even another man.

Those were the days.

Small town blues

I lived in Canberra between 1982 and 1987.

In those days life for an unattached gay man in a small town dominated by government employment was a sort of double jeopardy. For one thing, regardless of your sexuality, career status played an inordinate role in social situations. Meet someone new at a party and inevitably you would quickly be made to 'show yours' to the newby. 'Show your' public service grade, that is. Wobetide that your grade wasn't sufficiently high in which event the newby would start looking around the room for someone more 'useful' with whom to spend their time chatting.

And being gay meant other perils. It wasn't easy to be open about your sexuality in case that endangered your career prospects. One often had to resort to gay cruising to meet sexual needs. There were a few 'beats' around Canberra and being a comparatively small town you kept running into the same cruisers over and over. Realistically the odds were that most of these cruisers were also public servants but the sexual exchange was often conducted in silence and done with so quickly that you rarely discovered much about these fleeting partners.

I remember one very satisfying, if cramped, encounter in the backseat of my car - how teenage is that! - which was followed by the equivalent of an after sex cigarette in bed. That is, the two of us, having never previously met and still naked and entwined and cramped on that backseat with the windows steamed up and my car parked at the remote back end of a shopping precinct car park actually engaged in a conversation. To our mutual astonishment, we discovered that we worked for the same government department. Not only that, but our names were so alphabetically similar that they followed each other in the departmental telephone directory. We only met for sex once more after that.

There were others I would see regularly at the beats who were not interested in a sexual encounter with me and/or vice versa with whom you conducted a sort of 'gay tango' trying not to intrude in each other's search for a partner. One of these was the driver of a Mercedes who studiously ignored me whenever we passed each other. I would have been happy to exchange a courteous non-commital smile with him but he would have none of that. One day I accompanied a high powered group from my department across the lake to important discussions with a related department on the other side. Our group was ushered through a number of security points to an inner sanctum to meet, across a massive formal conference table, the equivalent high powered group from that department. To my surprise, the lead member of that group was Mr Mercedes! I offered Mr Mercedes a firm handshake and what I hoped was a neutral smile but received only an unfriendly glare in response. His unspoken message was unmistakeable. 'What is a queen like you doing in a high powered group like this?'

Fast foward twenty-five years and I live in Sydney with it's population approaching five million and would you believe that Mr Mercedes also lives here? I see him from time to time; most recently last Sunday when he was having breakfast and reading a newspaper at the nearby Westfield. He still ignored me.

Shooting Through

"Shooting through like a Bondi tram", a saying familiar to Sydneysiders especially in the first half of the twentieth century deriving from the supposed speed of the trams that ran the line to Bondi Beach. The saying meant to move, or get away, quickly.

As a child, I was fascinated by trams and planned that I would be a tram driver when I grew up only to be thwarthed when the Government shut down the entire Sydney tram network in the early 1960s. What was once one of the largest tram networks in the world disappeared.

The Sydney Tramway Museum does its best to retain memories of Sydney's former glorious system including by its DVD, Shooting Through, that chronicles the network in detail and of which I was reminded when I read Andrew's post.

I first came across Shooting Through, as a video, in bizarre circumstances more than 20 years ago. I was at the Bodyline Gay Sauna on a very quiet weekday morning and wandered into the screening room where customers would normally expect porn to be screening. To my surprise, instead of porn, the huge screen presented me with silent images of trams travelling around Sydney. Like Nero in ancient Rome, I planted myself down lengthways on a lounge and wearing only a sauna issued towel I watched old trams silently criss cross the screen for the next hour or so.

I have no idea what possessed the duty manager to screen that video in a gay sauna but the thought occurred to me later when I learned what the video was called that he had seen the title on the cover and assumed he was screening a tittilating orgasmic movie.

Strangers in the night...

...exchanging glances, wondering in the night, what were the chances...


A memory from my past.

I was at a popular Sydney gay venue prowling the wet sauna which was a notoriously dark room where an aging queen like myself often had to judge the attractiveness of other prowlers by touch and sound as my eyesight in the gloom was not up to seeing who they were or what they looked like.

On this occasion the touch was very appealing and the sounds (mostly moaning) as my mouth attended to his...well, you can guess...indicated that the pleasure I was feeling was reciprocated.

After a while, the recipient of my oral pleasuring, leaned forward and in a hoarse whisper suggested we adjourn to a nearby private cubicle for some enhanced activity. That wasn't the term he used but again...you get the idea.

So we moved from the blackened darkness of the wet sauna through the slightly more visible gloom of the adjoining showers from where we could make our way to a cubicle. Despite the gloom in the shower room the light was sufficient for us to recoil in instant recognition.

He and I not only worked for the same organisation at the time, we had adjoining work stations there. Neither of us was aware, until then, that the other was gay.

The ardour of the wet sauna disappeared immediately and instead of continuing to a cubicle we decamped to the cafe area for a friendly, non-arousing chat over coffee.

Doin' what comes naturally...

The Sydney Star Observer has a small par this week advising that;

ACON will run a free four week cruising workshop for men interested in saunas or sex clubs. During the course, participants will learn how to cruise, how to reject unwanted advances, information on sexually transmitted infections and how to get the most out of saunas and sex clubs.

How times have changed. Training courses now for activity that I did naturally at...um...well...a very early age, albeit at beats rather than organised venues that were unknown to me in those times.

Probably not a bad idea actually. I bet the practical training exercises are fun.

Art imitates my life

My current read is David Leavitt's book Martin Bauman written in 2000. The fictional Bauman is a young gay man struggling both to be a published author and to come out of the closet.

The novel contains a scene in which Bauman, reeling from a romantic disappointment, allows himself to be picked up by a stranger who takes him back to his apartment only to be mugged by the stranger on the stairway.

Other than that the fictional incident occurs in New York, it reads eerily similar to an actual mugging I experienced in 1974 within my first week of arrival to work in London.

It felt very strange indeed reading that scene.

Some loving

It has been a long time since I have had some sex. Correction; it has been a long time since I have had some loving sex of the tender touchy feely type rather than the slam bam thank you man type where scarcely a word is exchanged let alone any tenderness.

I need some of the former. Well, I want some of the former but at the moment there is no one on my horizon likely to be providing it. It is a state I have been in before and in the past I have usually ended up visiting a sauna for something different.

It is not that I expect to find the love of my life at a sauna. I have long given away the notion that I would find the man of my dreams at one of these establishments. They can be soulless meat markets where you tread the endless carousel being followed around by men you are not interested in all whilst you are following men you are interested in but who are not interested in you.

I suppose that I have visited a sauna about once every nine months or so over the past few years after having been a more periodic patron in earlier years. The best that I have experienced is the occasional passionate 'rumpy pumpy' that vaguely simulates emotional closeness but as often as not sauna sex turns into a lustful race to sexual relief between two or more men who will just as quickly go their own ways once the deed is done.

But I remain ever optimistic that I will find someone for me, just not at the sauna.

Sculpture by the Sea 2008 (2)

Yesterday I took the coastal walk along from Bondi Beach to Tamarama Beach where Sculpture by the Sea 2008 was on display.

Although it was not yet 9am when I set out, thousands of people were taking the walk to view the display.

(Click to enlarge photos for better view.)


Sunbathers and surfers have made an early start and a surf carnival is underway at the Northern end of the beach - in the top distance of photo.


People at the northern end of the coastal walk adjacent to the Icebergs Club.


The trail of people continues along the walk around the point at Marks Park.


And then on the southern side of Marks Park onwards to Tamarama Beach in the distance.


Finally at Tamarama Beach with the Nippers (youngsters being taught surfing and life saving skills) dressed in blue at the water's edge.

It was not easy to take photos of the artworks with so many people around but I managed a few which I will post tomorrow.

By the way, this coastal walk used to be a busy gay beat at night which I frequented in my teens and twenties. However a number of gay bashings and murders have occurred there over the years since and I imagine the area no longer attracts gay men at night.

Car park cruising and dental health

On Sunday I was cruised and picked up by a man in a car park as we returned to our respective cars. The cruising was unexpected but so obvious were his signals, that the pick up was accomplished in seconds. The deed was completed quickly too. He must have been very much in need of relief.

It is the first time I have been 'speed' cruised and picked up in a car park for about four years. The last occasion was immediately following dental treatment when the dentist told me not to put anything in my mouth for thirty minutes. I disobeyed the dentist.

My preferred foot...and other life options

The day started with my podiatrist appointment. My preferred podiatrist, Tm, was not on duty this morning and I was 'serviced' by Va. She is a bright and personable young woman but Va has not yet learnt that I don't visit the podiatrist to be insulted. Her comment today that my heels 'are as dry as a desert' was undoubtedly correct but totally unwelcome.

Tm would never have said something like that to me. He would have stuck to safe subjects like football, cricket and my weekend's ironing. Plus Tm has the added appeal of providing me with an ever changing view of his enticing crotch snug in his tight trousers as I look down at him attending to my tootsies.

I recovered from Va's assault with breakfast in the Bondi Junction mall and then drove to Hunters Hill for my Saturday morning visit with my mother at her nursing home. She snoozed in her lounge chair for the entire hour that I sat with her not waking even to drink the tea and eat the delicious smelling cake that had been delivered to her side for morning tea. I held her hand for the hour whilst reading my current book, John Elder Robison's 'Look me in the Eye'.

On my way home I stopped off for a quick cruise and struck it lucky. Thus relieved and rejuvenated, I decided I should detour to Centennial Park for a walk. After all, I needed the exercise and the preparation for my forthcoming trip to NW Australia.

I parked my car just off the Grand Drive and started the walk at 12.20pm. Initially my mind was its usual state; a blank. But then I started to think about my preferences. Not my sexual preference, because I consider that to be my orientation more than just a choice, just as I am left handed by orientation not simply because I feel like it.

Why, for example have I always preferred clockwise motion to anti-clockwise? I was walking around the park in a clockwise direction. In fact most people were doing the same, although some people were being different (or deviant?) by doggedly pushing against the tide doing their walk in the anti-clockwise direction.


My thoughts then turned to other preferences.

Why have I always preferred even numbers to odd numbers? I have no idea but I have thought this way since childhood.

Why do I like banana as a flavour (banana cake, banana essence, banana milk shake) and yet rarely eat the actual fruit because something about its texture makes my skin crawl?

Similarly, why am I happy to have mushroom sauce or gravy with a meal but then balk at eating an actual mushroom whose taste makes me feel nauseous?



Anyway these thoughts filled my mind until I came across the attractive red headed youth (above) walking with his lady friend. Walking behind this Adonis banished all other thoughts from my mind, rejuvenated me for a second time in a couple of hours and gave me the necessary impetus to finish the walk back to my car.

My walk was completed at 1pm at which moment I felt very happy with my preferences, my orientation and my lot.

Cruisers

I saw Leatherheads at the Broadway Shopping Centre this afternoon and will post about it separately. Following the movie I visited the toilets nearby the cinema complex and saw someone I recall as a cruiser years ago at the Town Hall Station toilets.

He is a baby faced man with a large build, a sort of Baby Huey from the old comic series. I wasn't at the toilet looking for sex but he clearly was. He was never discreet from my memory and was pretty obvious today. I wondered how many men he annoys with his in your face approach.

I've cruised countless times over many years so I cannot claim to take the high moral ground but I hope I was never as blatantly intrusive as this man.

Assortment.......

I'm about to start the ironing and in the absence of an ironing board cover such as this I am using The Bold and the Beautiful as background distraction whilst I do the deed. It is insanely ridiculous but the adventures of Brooke, Ridge, Stephanie et al help the drudgery fly by.

As back up, I am on a sugar binge and have just opened a packet of Jelly Babies. My intention is to eat just one which really means can I stop before I eat the entire packet in one go. The usual answer is no.

Spent four hours today on Day 13 of hospital bedside vigil for my Mother. In fact she is well enough to return to her Nursing Home but now they are waiting until she is as mobile as when she entered the hospital before she is discharged. Unfortunately she simply would not cooperate today refusing to sit up in bed, let alone take a short walk around the room. Looks like Mum will remain in hospital a few days more whilst we get her back on her feet. This is very disappointing.

On my way home from the hospital I stopped off for a dalliance and luckily was successful. Once again a short exchange but a pleasant one.

Some relief....on two fronts

Whether it is connected with her right lung being drained yesterday of a litre of fluid or coincidental I was relieved to find Mum in her best state this morning for weeks. She even ate some food and took some fluids, albeit still minimal amounts. The Doctor tells me her heart and kidneys are still underperforming but she is making progress.

Her condition did fall away in the afternoon but there are likely explanations. The Doctor drained some fluid from her left lung after lunch. Mum then was sent off for still another x-ray and her blood pressure/temperature were checked multiple times. All this activity would have been tiring for her. In addition the 'sundown' syndrome experienced by dementia sufferers would have come into play too.

After the hospital visit some further relief for me when I had a brief dalliance with a tradie. It was a quick and clinical mutual hand job but we both needed the release. I returned home relaxed whilst he had to return to work.

Loo talk

Here I sit brokenhearted.....

No, No, No! Not at the moment, anyway.

Last night I awoke with a thought in my head. I had a recollection of this rhyme that I first came across over 45 years ago. A mildly bawdy rhyme, it appeared on public toilet walls at the time and I suspect still does on older toilet blocks.

Why was a 12 years old gay boy familiar with bawdy rhymes found on the walls of euphemistically named public conveniences? Well, let's not go there, sufficient to say I was responding to strong feelings arising from puberty that at the time I little understood.

But that rhyme intrigued and shocked the naive boy I was then.

There was no shortage of public conveniences in Sydney in those days. Every main street shopping centre, beach, public park, railway station and the like had it's conveniences. They were often left open 24 hours a day.

At the time, not only was homosexual activity illegal but it was also illegal to loiter or even to solicit for a consenting partner. There were no sex on premises venues in those days either nor, of course, the internet with it's dating services. So public conveniences were a meeting location for men seeking men. Their walls were the noticeboard for bawdy messages as well as for messages of availability for sex.

This led inevitably to complaints from those innocently using the conveniences for their intended purposes only to be exposed to men in various stages of sexual innuendo or behaviour. Operators of the conveniences responded by closing the conveniences, firstly in the evenings and eventually altogether. They made public conveniences inconvenient.

In subsequent years, homosexual activity was decriminalised, sex on venue premises legalised and other avenues for meeting same sex partners evolved. Those inconvenient public conveniences began to reappear but not in their old form. Now they appear as sterile, stainless steel futuristic time machines designed to discourage sexual and multiple use.

The walls no longer accept the bawdy rhyme and invitation but graffiti artists manage to overcome impediments to leave their distinctive marks.

Now, when one needs to spend a penny, this is what confronts you.

And for those who don't know the bawdy rhyme, here it is. Skip the next paragraph if you are of sensitive disposition.

Here I sit brokenhearted,
Paid a penny and only farted.

And why did all this come into my sleepy mind at four o'clock this morning? I have not a clue.

From sauna to blood....

In the absence of any Valentine's Day presents or cards coming my way I took myself off to the sauna for a bit of nooky. I suppose I visit a sauna three or four times a year and it's been many months since my last one.

I started off in the lounge watching the movie they were screening rather than the many porn videos on show around the place. The movie was a curious Italian language piece about two brothers whose impoverished aristocratic father has passed away. The older brother has come to Rome to check on his younger brother and has learned for the first time that he is a gay porn star. I watched for about an hour without seeing either the beginning or the end of it. It was B grade nonsense without any hardcore in it.

I wasn't too bothered to see it through to the end and when I'd seen enough I moved on to prowling the club stopping to take in bits of the porn videos and eyeing one of the few younger men around as a possible encounter. He seemed interested without making any moves on me. A while later we found ourselves together in the wet sauna and he proved to be my Valentine's Day present. Twenty minutes of nooky and we were both satisfied.

After showering, then resting and dressing I took myself off to the movies to see There Will Be Blood. Yes I know, my third movie in less than a week but I enjoy them and there are plenty of good ones about.


This movie was not exactly what I was expecting. I had thought it was a straight out story but in fact it is a morality/metaphoric tale dominated, as I had read, by a towering performance from Daniel Day-Lewis. He is riveting and just as well because he appears in virtually every scene. All the performances are effective and the cast is expertly made up to be reminiscent of the folk we see in those sepia photographs of old. The photography presents many striking images and I really enjoyed the soundtrack which ranges from classical through the sounds of machinery to the muffled world of a deaf child.

This movie would not be to everyone's taste but I found it fascinating.

Juno

It seemed when I awoke this morning that we were in for a second unusually cool and bleak February day. The temperature was only 16c and conditions looked dark and rainy.

So it was off to Bondi Junction again to the movies, this time to see Juno. Being the 10am session the audience was small (eleven people) the majority looking barely older then the sixteen year olds' depicted in the movie. But it was an appreciative audience with the younger members sniggering at the sexual innuendo and laughing heartily at the genuinely amusing moments.

I enjoyed the movie. The Juno character is both streetwise and naive as well as being irritating at times; all of which I imagine is typical of today's sixteen year olds. I particularly liked that almost all the characters looked so ordinary and normal and that they all had their strengths and weaknesses. This was not a film populated entirely with impossibly good looking folk a la the current television sensation Gossip Girl.

After the movie, I again purchased a sandwich from the deli counter in the food court but learning from last week had one made up that was a more manageable amount to eat.

By the time I left the centre the weather had cleared completely and I was far too warm in my jumper and jeans. Feeling a bit frisky I drove down to Centennial Park in the hope of meeting another cruiser but the leisure areas adjacent to the cruising area were too populated with straight picnickers and social cricketers for there to be any obvious action. Two good lookers, both wearing lycra bicycle shorts and displaying tempting bulges, wandered by but they seemed more interested in each other than in collecting a third.

So after hanging around only a few minutes I drove home alone picking up lamingtons on the way for afternoon tea thereby completely undoing whatever benefits I derived from my healthy lunch sandwich.