Do you have a crush
Do you have a crush on someone? That's too bad.
What is a crush but the withered corpse of a lost opportunity.
Don't get crushes. Get action.
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April 29, 2003
April 25, 2003
The hot action guide to
The hot action guide to the arts.
Actors: I draw a distinction betweeen actors and thespians. Acting is an ancient and honourable profession, but if you're ever at a party and there's some guy standing in the middle of the room waving his arms around while everyone else sits and watches, then you know you are dealing with a thespian. Thespians probably get laid a lot but they tend to think they are on stage wherever they go. Next time we're gonna act out the scene where I punch you in the face.
Writers: I took a creative writing course in grad school but I dropped out to go on tour with a rock'n'roll band. I was expecting the class would be full of hard-drinking, brawling loudmouths but instead it turned out to be a bunch of uptight dorks who sat around all day saying things like "Sex is banal." Writers are neurotic because they'd all secretly love to be famous and they know they don't have a chance in hell. But even though writers are too cool for sex, I still like them better than actors because writers only try to have the undivided attention of one person at a time.
Painters are all about the sex. It's getting out of hand, really.
Sculptors: "I'm not interested in princesses," said Ti-Paolo with a smirk and went off to paw a third-year sculpture student.
--Ray Smith, Lord Nelson Tavern
Things tend to go to extremes with sculptors. You could be sitting around thinking "I want to meet a woman who's good with her hands" and next thing you know, you're hanging out with a third-year sculpture student in a pair of dirty overalls who just likes to slam.
On the other hand, I can't think of anything less sexy than a pottery class full of people who are all sitting around talking about "healing."
Performance artists: Two years ago, I met a performance artist who was actually hot so the jury's still out on this one.
Costume design is a relatively new field of study for me but jeeeeeesus. They're all so sexy I just had to mention it. Hello!
Music: Any woman who plays music is hot. Any woman who plays in a band is super-hot. Any woman who plays in a symphony probably never comes within ten clicks of this website.
April 21, 2003
I just got off the
I just got off the phone. That was a well-timed phone call. "Hello baby!"
In a moment, I'll be leaving my house to go have sex. My pre-sex ritual includes (in no particular order): throwing myself down on my bed and flopping around; gnashing my teeth; cooking two eggs and eating them; punching my fist against a door frame on the way by; running up and down the stairs; gulping down half-a-litre of milk; doing fifty pushups; growling like a lion; putting loud music on the stereo; not cutting my fingernails; checking out some pictures of Amelia Earhart; baring my teeth in the mirror; brushing my teeth; staring out the window and stretching; rooting through the condom drawer (where did all the empty boxes come from?); putting fresh batteries in the camera; having a love affair with the couch; getting undressed; no no no save it; getting dressed. (This routine may vary according to the season.)
...Putting on my shoes. Go!
April 15, 2003
"You are full of misconceptions
"You are full of misconceptions and prejudices when it comes to seduction, qualities that will hold you back in many facets of life."
I took this online Rate Your Seduction Skills quiz and scored quite poorly--19 points out of a possible 80--placing me in the lowest category as far as seduction skills are concerned.
I'd be depressed about this, if I weren't getting laid all over the place.
Perhaps it shows there is room for alternate approaches. Or maybe the guy just wants everyone to buy his book.
"What's with the smile?" "I
"What's with the smile?"
"I have plenty to smile about."
"Smug bastard."
I was lying in bed with a honey last night, and we were trying to think of names for an organization of single Halifax people who are into the sex. (Apparently she didn't think "Philip Clark Sex Army" is a catchy enough name.)
The best I could come up with was "People United in Search of Sexual Intercourse"--P.U.S.S.I.
She thought that might be too exclusive, but I said, "If there's no PUSSI involved, then I ain't interested."
"It would be cool if there were some way we could identify each other," she said. "Some kind of sign."
I said, "Honey, I'm months ahead of you."
April 13, 2003
The final part of this
The final part of this trilogy;
in which a woman approaches while I'm working, I do not tell her to piss off, I meet her after work, wish I had been mean to her right away, and eventually find happiness on the streets of Halifax.
Hell's Kitchen, Saturday night. I detected a sexual presence in the room. She and her friend invited me to join them, but I told them I was on the job.
Then the band started up. I went and sat at the console. She sat down beside me and began to talk. Seemed friendly enough but perhaps a tad oblivious. Was it not obvious that I needed both ears for the work I was doing?
She asked where I was from and I told her, "New Brunswick."
"That's too bad," she said.
Distant early warning. It's a bit of a social risk to put down someone's home.
It's not that I was insulted, but a little window popped up in my head that said, "This woman has sketchy social skills. If you hung out with her, she'd probably embarrass you."
Anyway, she bought me a drink and I did wind up talking to her for a while after work. A nurse. One of the touchy-feely people; always with her hands on my waist or my elbow or my shoulder.
A little drunk. Horny too, I'd have to say. The topic of the conversation quickly turned to sex. She asked me if I got picked up all the time working at a place like the Marquee. I said, "Yep." She found that intriguing.
She seemed to think she was much smarter than everyone else in the bar because she'd gone to university for six years.
"I went to university for six years," I said.
"No, you didn't," she said.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm smart."
"You're not as smart as you think you are."
"You're working as a sound technician," she said. "If you had gone to university for six years, you wouldn't be doing sound at the Marquee."
"I think I've just been insulted," I said.
I started to leave and go downstairs. Suddenly she was all grabby hands and apologies. I thought I was actually going to have to say, "Please remove your hands from my person."
Grr, this stupid bar. Finally I escaped. I went and stomped down the stairs. Stomp, stomp, stomp.
Again, I wasn't really that insulted by what she said. It was actually a relief to have an excuse to get away. I was just afraid she'd come down and try to find me. Fortunately I found someone else first...
I'm pleased to relate that the story of this evening has a happy ending. It involves a lovely lady. And an alleyway, and a phone booth, and the back parking lot of a North End building, where no one could see what was happening...
...The phone booth was the
...The phone booth was the best part. In the middle of everything I got to pick up the phone and go into my, "Honey, I'm going to be late again" routine.
April 12, 2003
"You look like you're having
"You look like you're having the time of your life."
"There are worse ways to make a living."
Mirabile dictu, a pretty girl approached me at the club and I wasn't mean to her. Not sure what got into me there but I'm trying to turn things around. It didn't hurt that she checked me out and smiled at me before coming over.
I considered trying to find her after I got off work, but then I took a deep breath and said, "It's probably best for me to get out of this place."
I always used to say, "If you want to find the action, get out of the bar." Meaning, the bar is a socially constrained space, and there is a lot more room for creative encounters out on the street.
I had that feeling again last night for the first time since the summer. When I stepped outside the Marquee it was nice and mild out. There was a light drizzle but my vision was sharp and clear.
Ten minutes later I was smooching with a lady on a North End street corner.
"Very nice."
"Ohh yes."
Sometimes a kiss is all it takes...
April 11, 2003
Conventional wisdom would suggest that
Conventional wisdom would suggest that in order you make yourself seem approachable in a bar you should smile, relax, try to appear friendly and confident.
Usually that's how it works. Wednesday night at the club I was in a very pissy mood. I would not assume this to be a sexy attitude. And yet, I spent a good portion of the night repelling people.
"Hi, I was wondering, do you know where there are any parties happening afterwards?"
"Yeah. [Point at random guy] His house."
At least drunk women are easily deterred.
"So! Are you the Sound Man?"
"Yes I am."
"Are you actually doing the sound right now? You look like you're just standing around."
"Do you... hear... music?"
"Oh excuse me."
Getting hit on by gay men is the worst; they're more persistent and they always come on with this concerned, "let's-be-friends" bullshit.
"Are you all right?"
"Pardon me?"
"You're just standing there by yourself, looking all closed off to everyone."
"Yeah... no shit."
It annoys me. Personally, I don't like to pester strangers unless I'm already getting a nice hot vibe from them.
On Wednesday, the more I scowled, the more likely it was that I would turn around and have someone standing there, right in my face: "Hi! What's your name? What are you thinking about?"
Oh, I was just thinking that there is nothing anyone in this club could possibly do tonight that would be hot enough to interest me; and I just want to go home.
It's almost like, your standards are so high, you're not even actually horny. Ever felt like that?
I wish this post had a happy ending.
April 06, 2003
The weather yesterday was pretty
The weather yesterday was pretty crappy. But later on it got much nicer out. It turned out to be a very mild, clear night.
And so it came to pass that the official return of Having Sex Outdoors season was marked at 4:30am in a North End doorway.
Sorry... make that 5:30. The time changed too!
"Hey, hold still... Can I
"Hey, hold still... Can I take a picture of your foot and put it on my website?"
"Sure."
April 03, 2003
Last night I was good
Last night I was good and ready for some of the sex. So a woman came down to the club and laid me. There is a god in action heaven.
So far, this spring has been the season of spectacular breasts.