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I have been Bobby-free for just over three weeks... The whole let's-be-friends thing did not work out, like quitting smoking but telling your self you'll only have one on the weekend. A few posts back, I related the pain of withdrawal I was experiencing from our break-up, and today, that pain has not abated one degree... well maybe one half of one degree, but of no noticeable effect. I still have moments, like nicotine fits, where I mentally obsess and he is all I can think about... I can list his bad qualities like reciting pi, I can weigh the scales of pros and cons and watch the cons win every time, and in my mind, I keep thinking, "This would be easier if he was dead." Not that I am planning on killing him and whipping up some taxodermy on his dead-ass corpse, injesting his intrails so that he is always a part of me, gently combing his hair every night and stroking his flaxen beard with sweet caresses... Not my style... In my history, I've lost two men whose specialness to me was akin to that which I I am a libra/ libra rising, so if you don't think I can go to the extremes of despair (and the extremes of ebullience), then you know me not at all... Fuck being a Queen, I am a Drama Empress, but with my Moon in Virgo I usually internalize this mental morality play. Right now, on a scale ala movie reference, I am the scene in Lord of The Rings where Gandalf falls into Shadow after battling the Balrog, but what Gandalf knew while the others didn't, is that to fall into Shadow allows on to emerge into Light... Even though I feel so deep in a pit of despair that all I can do is put the lotion in the basket, I know from this too I will rise, for as a Libra who can go to both ends of the spectrum, my true home is balanced on the center. Well, that helped... On the other end... training is progressing for the up coming ride... I have been golden at work... I began Chantix to help with smoking cessation... And all is as it should be in the universe... still, it would be easier if he was dead. Shit... |
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My trip to LA was exactly what I hoped it would be, a chance for me to reconnect with myself, my slutty, do-you-think-I'm-pretty self, the self so often ignored when I'm in a relationship. My casting director and I drove down and talk and smoked spliffs and talked and zoned out and talked... it was very cathartic.  Here are a few highlights of the trip... * Bought two new pairs of 00ga hollow plugs * Ate Lobster ravioli in a recording studio where the Doors recorded LA Woman * Learned 9 recipes for cinematic blood * Filmed the hottest Bukkake ever, EVER... look for Drunk on Cum 5 later this summer * Initiated our new cameraman by getting him so drunk he puked in the Faultline parking lot * Met a doctor/ shaman/ tantric massage therapist whom I saw three times and have been corresponding with since my return. He gave me a medicine bag with a small dreamcatcher on the outside and the four elements/ spirit animals on the inside in the form of stones. He also game me the most incredible massage ever, EVER * Met and got plowed by a giant ginger bear... well there was a sling in my room after all... * Got Ecomatic 1 back from the gallery where it was in a show... almost two years ago. * Was given a bag of Reese's cups by a porn star because he remembered I liked them from our chat the last time we worked together... Look for him in our upcoming release Fearless- out Memorial weekend, release party at the Jackhammer in Chicago Saturday of IML. I'll point him out when I can remember his porn name, suffice to say he has the biggest manthighs I've ever seen... like Mr. Universe size...  Whenever we would prepare for a shoot, we'd use a pillow for white balance and to check for shadows and such... The joke for the weekend was... "Yeah, fuckin' hot pillow." I wish I had a pic of the pillow in the sling... it looked so out of place, like porn-Shmoo. Kisses, and good to be home again. |
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Smell-A So, so very happy that today is here. I never thought I'd be happy about going to LA, but given the events of the last two weeks, to just get out of town into a new environment is exactly what I need. Granted, it is a working trip, and poor me will be stuck interviewing models and filming hot, nasty, raunchy porn. Still, I don't have to work 24 hours a day, and I do have some locations to scout... Anyway, just happy to not be here for a few days. Any of your SoCal LJ'ers out there? |
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 The weirdest thing happened yesterday when I was doing a tarot reading for a friend of mine. I was laying out the Celtic Cross and in the crown position, the Fool turned up. Ok, nothing weird about that. I continue to lay out the cards, and when I turn over the final outcome... it was the Fool card. Two! I have had that deck for 10+ years, and there were never two Fool cards. We freaked mildly, and I read it as a good omen. The pic above is from Saturday's 50m training ride in the East Bay. It was friggin' gorgeous! and a great endurance ride. Am so looking forward to the ride this year... donations can be made to rider #1570 here. Kisses... |
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Ok, ok, OK. Perhaps it was not the best thing to try and cut two major things out of my life at the same time, but it seemed and, once over this hump, still seems a good idea. Just need to make it over the hump. The hump being withdrawl; the two major things being Bobby and cigarettes. I woke up 75 minutes ago from a weird break-up dream. Clarke and I were at a party and Bobby and his friend Daniel showed up... Looking for Bobby, I end up in some weird gift shop, at the party, where a girlfriend of Bobby's is working... she tells me that the reason Bobby broke up with me is because he thinks I'm an idiot. So I went to find him and confront him- all sort of indignations raging in my dreammind. I find him and want to rage at him, but he and Daniel are with two other guys and they start to leave; I follow stopping Bobby for the confrontation. He tells me I am an idiot because I couldn't figure out how to turn on the thermostat. WTF? Then he laughs at me and tells me I'll never get my Devil May Cry 4 PS3 game back. Suddenly I am above the crowd, like I preformed an air hike, watching him join the other three, get in a car and drive away. I wake. Times like that when I sure could use a cigarette, but alas, I quit Monday- well, have significantly weened back... Got some Drum tobacco and will roll myself one after work or with coffee. I had three yesterday. I want to quit smoking because it is bloody expensive- at least $35 a week, and because I have ALC7 coming up in June and I would like to breathe whilst climbing all those hills. I need to quit because I am 37 years old and have been sucking down the cancer sticks for 22 years. I didn't want to quit Bobby. After two weeks and a lot of introspection, gnothi seauton and all, I know it is for the best and that in the long run, he perhaps wasn't the best choice for a life partner. But that doesn't lessen the sting. I loved loving him and we were great together in a lot of areas. He, though, isn't ready for the type of relationship that I am (he said his shrink and he call me Mr. Right at the wrong time), yet instead of working through it and getting to a point of readiness, he would rather quit the relationship to be on his own on some quest to fix who he is or find himself or some other drivel that is an illusory goal. What is it with this whole finding yourself crap? I told him in an email that for all my searching through the world's religions, life's experiences, and quantum physics- the only thing I've found are deeper and more probing mysteries. There is no finding yourself, like reaching a destination on a map- oh here I am, now I can get on with my life. Life is a journey from birth until death, and only in death will you find yourself- the end. Alas, the more esoteric and philosophical elude him, which was a problem with the relationship- we never really had deep discussions. And he was a bad kisser... The last time I quit smoking for an serious amount of time (8 mths), about two weeks into a nicotine free life, I started having smoking dreams. I would sneak into a dark corner and light up and feel a swirl of emotions from pleasure to racking guilt. I would wake feeling like I had cheated and defeated myself... but gradually the dream subsided and I did ok, until a smoking friend moved in with me. And the Bobby dreams will subside as well, in time. I know that there are things about myself that need work. But I also know that this is a process that will go on until I am pushing up pretty pink daises (or ash in the wind). I know that everything that I have been through has conspired to make me the man I am, and he is a pretty damn good man. I have an awesome job that pays well, a great apartment, and deep, well-adjusted, probing outlook on life, good health (undetectable viral load and 900 t-cells all without any meds as well as awesome cholesterol levels and other bodily functions), incredible sexual stamina, and I'm snuggly. Bobby was my first real relationship since Sean (rip 12/2002), so I am considering him as practice for the real show- a dress rehearsal if you will. Main attraction to follow. Astrologically, the stars area aligned for this to be a phenomenal year for me (according to some astrologers especially from Mar. 21 to Sept. 24) and I am in a space of quantum awareness that is drawing this energy to me. I sit still, quiet, with my rolled cigarette and fresh cup of coffee and commune with the universe. I'd rather be snuggling. In time, in time. |
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Strength and the Four of Pentacles |
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Home Work and Dream ListsSo I'm off to New York on Friday to meet with Max our NYC affiliate. As homework I've been boning up on his porn... Meet Rack, Meat Packing, Fuck Holes, Dawson's X# of Loads Weekend... So far we've only communicated by phone (see annoyingly overly large picture (to some) in yesterday's post), and he has been most helpful in these my first few months with TIM. However, in person is always different then on the phone (or the internet, thus the term AOLinches... but I digress). So I am a little nervous as he would be a powerful ally, not unlike the force, plus we'll be working together in London in the fall... Not to mention, New Fucking York... I was last there in November of 88 interviewing at NYU. My Dad and I had driven up, and after the interview had gotten drunk at some bar in the Village. I am going to have most of Saturday to myself... so I am wondering what to do... without looking like Sandy Dennis in the Out of Towners... Saturday night, however, I plan on being as slutty as possible at the Eagle, seeing as how I won't be with my dad on this trip (but maybe a daddy for the night)... just fyi for all you nyclj'ers. Non Sequitur... Walking home from the gym, after running into the piece of shit and having to workout next to him and be pleasant first fucking thing in the morning, I formulated a small dream list to have accomplished by year's end. Without further adieu, in no order... New Road Bike for next year's ALC... something just seemed amiss last week. Oh yeah, I wasn't riding a bike to LA. New 3bdrm Flat in SOMA with Babba Crack and his bee-keeping honeylamb. I can afford better digs and stop pretending that I actually like living in the Tendernob, plus Crack and I have always talked about living together. Peurto Villarta on my birthday... The Black and Blue Ball in Montreal is on the calendar at work, but I'm going to poo-poo that shoot. For my b-day, I'm much rather come home with a few good stories that are nasty, raunchy and Latino. Send my niece a giant stuffed dinosaur once a month... She is just turning 4 and is a cowgirl/princess/paleontologist. She puts a tiara on her cowgirl hat and rides a giant brachiasaurus around the house. Write more, read more, love more... It was a good thing though, that I saw piece of shit at the gym this morning. I was finally able to return his copy of the 25th Anniversary Edition of 9to5 which I had been carrying around in my gym bag for a month. It was an act of closure, enough for me. Besides it had been in my bag long enough to become embued with the scent of my sweaty gym towel... |
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La Vie En Porn I would consider myself a connoisseur of many genres of film, if I was one to consider myself a connoisseur, but porn would not have ranked in the top ten; it wouldn't even had made the list. So how did a young, iconoclastic, enigmatic, seldom pragmatic, often orgiastic man like myself end up working in the porn industry? Well, not be one to dispel myths, even though I just referred to myself as iconoclastic, but there is a whole lot more to the porn industry than the ability to recall the cock length of Jeff Stryker or to have harbored a teen-age crush on that cute little cumdump, Joey Stefano. Organization, I have found, is of paramount importance, and I have managed to fetishize it. Logistics of organizing a 25 top gangbang or just putting together a two-man oral would boggle the mind of some, but for me, I get palpitations and sweaty palms by developing shooting schedules, call sheets, and itineraries. But getting together shoots is only part of my job and one that I share with my staff... more on my staff in a bit. Model interviews, writing contracts for exclusives, managing equipment, working with our New York affiliate, and on and on and on. Just keeping a running calendar of the day to day business is enough to fill a third of my day. Typically, I start with making a coffee with our countertop cafe while Outlook receives about 500-800 e-mails (I get a lot of spam of the cialis, viagra, penis enlarging patch variety), I then weed through the mail, forward appropriate messages, reply to those needing a response, all while printing the day's calendar and assigning videographers to that day's shoots (today we have two solos and a fuck scene). An hour has passed and I shoot an e-mail to the accountant for the model checks for the day's models and it is usually at this time that I am called into the boss's office for a meeting or some problem pokes its head out of the hole with I will have to deal. Usually it is a meeting, which are great fun (for the most part) and totally surreal at times usually ranging from talks about fuck shoots to how a guy's ass felt like a puppy's belly to reading the society page in the Chronical to where in America Damon will blow next. After the meeting, I usually have a smoke with my staff and another cup of coffee... we all smoke. More e-mails, get the cameras ready for the shoot, work on one project or another (getting ready to shoot in Canada in July, plans for my New York trip this weekend for Folsom East, new exclusive contract issues, Dore Alley's 50 Man Bukkake...) and then it's lunch time. After a bite, more e-mails and more projects and the shoots begin. I run down the street to the hotel we'll be using for the fuck shoot to get the room key then back to the office. Check on how the shoot went, usually another meeting in the boss's office, more e-mails, and then it's time to get ready for the fuck shoot at which I'll be camera (A). Models arrive, releases signed, check the property for any unsightly blemishes or marks, go over what we want from the scene ("above all for you guys to have a great time"), and the lights, camera, action... Film's in the can and logged with the editors, it's usually about 6 or 6:30 by now and I change shoes into my biking cleats and ride home... I go to sleep loving my job and I wake excited that I get to do it again. It is unlike anything... anything and I love the fuck out of it, so to speak. There have been a lot of adjustments to have been made, especially the fact that I have a staff and am directly responsible for and to them. I've never been in a position such as this, but after some initial rough spots and especially the crucible of filming at IML, we have formed into a tight team and for lack of a better term, bonded. There are several others in the office and together there is a warm familial atmosphere where we joke and zing rubber bands at each other and get the job done. And then there's Paul... our leader. In an article in GAVN, the writer said that "Treasure Island Media doesn't have a fan base... they have a cult following." A friend of mine to whom I had give a copy of Plantin' Seed 2 confided to me a couple of days later that "I can't stop watching it... and sometimes it makes me gag a little." (at which I swelled with pride). And on our website, we have the tagline, "Documenting Sex for the 21st Century." All these things are from the genius of Paul Morris, and all I can add is that if I eventually leave T.I.M., what I will take with me are the experiences I have had and the knowledge that I have gleaned from this man. Ok, off to make the porn...  |
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Last Updated 37 Weeks AgoAs I sit here, watching the blinking cursor, I am examining my motivations. My motivations 37 weeks ago when I wrote my last post were quite different than they are today. So was I. So was the world. Such is the way things are, change change change. After so much time, fifteen weeks short of a year for those not mathematically inclined, why start writing again now? When will you find the time to post? Will you balk again at the futility of keeping this live journal? To what end? Questions to plumb my motivations... but I know all the answers, like giving yourself a tarot reading to tell yourself what you already knew, just couldn't bring yourself to hear. The Tower, the Wheel of Fortune, The Nine of Swords, The Ten of Pentacles. Torment and Beauty, that which is both terrifying and fascinating at the same time. Yes, catharsis, but now tempered with purpose, to stretch, shred, and regrow stronger than before a muscle that can't be worked at the gym. No, not that muscle... my mind, gutter boy. So a 37 week update, abridged. Had a lot of sex and got paid a lot of money. Made a lot of stained glass stuff plus a couple of commissions and got paid a lot of money. I was able to support myself in SF and live well by my own devices- my cock and my craftsmanship. And don't think that I don't know that the goddess was good to me, carrying me cupped in the palm of her supple hand. If it were still kosher to sacrifice a hundred bulls in her name, I would... right there in the redwood grove at the base of the TransAmerican Pyramid. Then two things happened that have jettisoned me into a new life so fast that I am just now slowing from a turbine to a gentle twirl. It all started on Valentine's Day, fucking piece of shit holiday. I've always had disdain for V-day, so it is fitting that forces saw to it that I would fall in love on that day. Like a bunker-buster he was. Maybe it was the thrill of being pursued so unrelentingly with such passion, or the ease with which were together, or the hot, sweaty, oh-my-god-this-is-the-best-sex-I've-ever-h After that thought, I sat up in bed, opened the laptop, and directed my browser to craigslist. The job opportunity at the top of the list, the very first words upon which my eyes rested, was a posting for a casting assistant with a "male adult video company." Hmmm, I thought to myself, what a lark, and my BFA is in Film Theory and Production... So I applied, writing a totally cheeky cover letter, thinking I'll never get my foot even in the door. Long story short... I didn't get hired for that job... I got hired for the supervisor of that job. Yes, gentle reader, I am currently, and hopefully securely since I just got brought in to a salary, benefits package and 401k, the Director of Production for Treasure Island Media. The day I got hired, you could have knocked me over with a feather, I was walking three feet off the ground, and several other cliches involving shock and awe. But lest we forget the force, hands of fate, the ebb and flow that make reality so fucking real... The closer I got to the job, the more I noticed the man of V-day was pulling back. Then in one glorious flash of complete emotional extremes, like the meeting of matter and anti-matter, our relationship ended not four hours after I was hired. I'll stop short of boring you with the details, suffice to say that I am still trying to get over him and every time I see him I want to spit on him and tell him I love him and call him a piece of shit and hold him in my arms and look into his eyes like we used to do. Alas. More sufficing to say, the job is fantastic, and will be the subject of many a post to come. Also, in the last couple of weeks, I've met a couple of guys whom I am seeing with a burgeoning regularity. Total opposites... one with which I can talk for hours, the other with which I can fuck for hours... Libras, what are you gonna do... So even though the piece of shit still grasps my heart, I am moving on. Also, have two new tattoos and at long last shoulders from going to the gym again with regularity. So that's the 37 week synopsis. I'll be back with more fun and exciting and gut-wrenchingly dramatic stories of the neelness if you care to join in. Until then... kisses N |
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Beavers of Sloth, BEWARE First I doubt I'll see any of you sycophants there... ho-hum. |
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Update!HusbandHunt 2k6- "I Think We Have A Winner"Besides sharing a love of short-haired kittens, Chubby Hubby Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream, and long walks off short piers, I just found out Wednesday that he is a HUGE fan of Noam Chomsky! Yes, I think things will work out nicely between me and Hugo. Sorry guys, he's the one. That is all...
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Techy QuestionOk, I have a NEC AccuSync 19"LCD Monitor (two years old) that is hooked up to my tower (which is like 900 years old (bought in 01)) and seemingly dying, the tower not the monitor. I only use it to watch dvds and listen to music... but anyway... I was wondering if there is a cable that I can run directly from the monitor to a dvd player? I seem to be having a lot of computer trouble lately. Still haven't resolved the not being able to go to some websites issue that I wrote of earlier, and now Windows is telling me that my graphics card is crashing my tower... ho hum. Good thing I have 9,000,000 other things to worry about what with opening the gallery and stuff. Kisses, Neel
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chipper
