Charlie

Good crackpot or bad crackpot? I never took a course with him.

One of my favorite books was the classic Puritan Boston and Quaker Philadelphia by E. Digby Baltzell, about the differences between the two cities.

I always enjoyed visiting San Francisco when I was younger (I have particularly fond memories of the "Summer of Love" in 1967), but I never considered living there. I strongly considered moving to Boston in the 1970s, because I thought it was a very comfortable city to live in then. I haven't been to either one of them in the past decade, so I don't know if I would still feel the same way about them today.

Welcome back, oldtimer.

I think this kid has delusions about his image. His arms are thinner than his cock.

Brussels used to have a great gay bath house, but I haven't been there in a half century, so it may have changed🤔

I have done that trip going from north to south, and I agree that it is beautiful, but it really isn't exactly a "gay" vacation, unless you have an escort waiting for you in Calgary.

I could tell a number of stories about our visits to Grover, the photographer, but I'll limit it to one. He had a boarder named Oakley, a hot-looking wild young redneck from Louisiana who would fuck anything that moved. Oakley was obviously an attraction for some of Grover's gay friends to visit--Old Reliable would definitely have appreciated him. One evening my friend and I were on our way somewhere with his 15 year old sister, and for some reason we stopped at Grover's house. Oakley immediately wanted to put a make on the sister, and tried to persuade her to come up to his room to "show her something interesting." She was no fool, and after some banter, the three of us left as soon as we could. She knew her brother and I were gay, but she found it hilarious that we would know someone like Oakley. (I know someone is going to be curious, so I will save you the trouble of asking: yes, I was something that moved.)

Alas! The only photo he took of me that I saved was in a coat and tie.

When I retired, I moved from the East coast to the West, mainly because I thought I would find the natural environment in the West more pleasing, and for the most part that has been true; however, it certainly is not the idyllic paradise I hoped for. In the late 19th century, my New York-born grandfather took Horace Greeley's advice to "Go West, young man!" There he had some of the most exciting adventures of his life, but at age 30 he returned to the East coast. For the remaining sixty years of his life, he never again ventured farther west than the Delaware River, and never expressed any interest in doing so.

The actors in gay porn of the pre-Stonewall era were not the ones who had to worry about criminalization: it was the distributors who were prosecuted. The actors/models were rarely identified except with pseudonyms. Even the photographers were usually safe unless they took an active role in the distribution of their work, as Mizer did. The little "physique" magazines of the 1950s often used photos that were submitted to them by amateur photographers. I bought one of those magazines in 1960, and saw that the names of the photographers were listed in the back, and by using a phone book, I discovered that one of them lived near me. A friend and I went to his home, rang his doorbell, and told him where we had found his name, and said that we were trying to find out where to buy posing straps. He was a middle-aged accountant whose hobby was "physique photography."🙄 He invited us in, and said he would give us straps if we would take our clothes off and try them on, which we did. That led to something other than photographs. He became a friend, and we often stopped by his house to socialize with him and his gay acquaintances, including some of his models. He only did photos that could safely appear in the beefcake magazines, regardless of whatever else went on during (but mostly after) the photo shoot.

Old Reliable used to have photos of the kind of guys I found hot enough to jerk off to, but whom I would never have wanted to actually have interaction with. As I remember, all the photos were black and white, and often seemed to have the same sofa in the room.

For a sexcation I always used to prefer Amsterdam, but I haven't been there for that in almost 20 years, so I doin't know what it is like now.

Oliver must have an in with God, because as soon as the party ended, He turned on the wind machine again.

It was a beautiful afternoon for a "pool event."

I just saw his new post post about "Seattle vs. Denver vs. Vancouver" a couple of minutes ago.

YOU'RE Back!!! (I hope you weren't in locked up in a mental institution in Canada.)

sigh--"When is he going to stop posing and take me out?"

I have lived on both coasts, and I could compare them on lots of different topics, but I wouldn't know how to compare them in general, especially since I lived on them during very different periods of my life. If you are asking me about sexual experience, most of it was on the East coast when I was younger, and I had very little experience on the West at any age. If you are asking about higher education, all my academic experience as a student and as an instructor was on the East coast, so I know little about the West other than by reputation. I prefer city life in the East, but countryside in the West.

When I was 24, I was in my first year of college teaching, and on vacation that summer I decided to bleach my hair blond. When the Fall semester began, I was in the faculty men's room when one of the senior professors, a very conservative former German businessman in his 60s who always wore a well-tailored gray suit and tie, and looked like he ought to also be wearing a monocle on a black ribbon, entered the room. As I was washing my hands in front of the mirror, I realized that he was staring at me. Then he said, "Mister ______, did you do something to your hair?" I expected some sort of disapproving remark, so I brightly replied, "Yes, I was in the sun a lot this summer and I decided to just help it bleach for a change." He continued staring at me for several seconds, and then replied in his usual arch tone, "It's really very becoming." I was stunned, and decided I had better let it grow out to its natural brunette as quickly as possible. I still have the ID card with my photo on it from that semester, and I really did look rather hot as a blond.

Strange that the stat post says 30 yrs old, but his text says he is "mid thirties."

If he's "lean," I'm "skeletal."

My mother grew up a family of "double first cousins"--as explained in the OP, they all had the same four grandparents. A brother and sister pair married another sister and brother pair, and for several years they all lived together with their children in the same household for economic reasons. This was in a New York City suburb, not in Appalachia. My mother and one of her cousins the same age looked so much alike that schoolteachers often mistook them for twins, and didn't understand why they had different last names. None of them, however, married or had children with anyone to whom they were related.

Those old Mercedes coupes are so hard to get out of.

"HANDSOME, HUGE and FAT cock." I assume the "handsome" is a description of the cock, because it certainly doesn't fit his face. And what strange travel destinations: Fords and Harrison in New Jersey? He really must be straight.