Showing posts with label Zachary Quinto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zachary Quinto. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Revisiting The D Chronicles - (Men): Give and Get

A bird died in my yard last week. It's a little off topic but I always take the unpredictable occurrences in life for meaning or guidance from the universe. I suppose everything has meaning if you give it some. I remember how hard I cried when I found the bird. It wasn't tears for myself. It was a great sadness for the loss of the life. You see, I tried very hard to save the bird. I held him in my hands, felt his energy, his life and how scared he was. I knew how much he wanted to live. So to find him passed was very upsetting. Those closest to me continue to reassure me that life has a cycle and you cannot save everything. In buddhism you learn that attachment will only lead to suffering and letting go ultimately means you release your suffering. I don't think the bird deserved to get killed but I'm learning to release that sadness. Anyhoo, I digressed!

There's a saying you give what you get... It's half right anyhow. You give and if you're lucky other people give back. It's up to you what you get. Careful, some people don't ask. Sometimes I'm one of them. For the most part that statement is about Karma. And there's nothing like a bit of Karma if you believe in that sort of thing. I believe in Kindness. I don't much know about other people but I do try to remain kind when I can. Here's a story about a man that gave and I suppose he got a little of what he deserved in return. I don't know how realistic it is. Only that when I wrote the series of men, I did borrow a few quirks and ticks from some very real people I knew. I am in the middle of the women right now and it's interesting how downright peculiar the female species can be, including myself. 

Kisses, m. 

Swim. Zachary Quinto c/o


Jackson Slater you’re an irrelevant bastard. You are going straight to hell. And no one will notice you’re gone.” says Haller Thomson.

Those are the final words Haller has chosen before we leave the shore. I keep telling myself this isn’t happening but that doesn’t change the circumstances at all. I can’t quite place the location of the boat with my eyes blindfolded. But north of the docks is as good as any guess.

What you have to understand is that I pretty much deserve to be in this position. A position that I created for myself. Although I wouldn’t have admitted it before now. Which is about 15 minutes after I should have admitted it.

I wasn’t particularly a great man or a man of character. On the whole I was a terribly shallow man with a talent for avoiding the obvious. Avoiding was a brilliant art that I mastered; especially when it came to people.  People can be so incredibly co-dependent that you might say avoiding them helps them. One might say I wrote the chapter on avoidance and I would have corrected them by handing them an autographed copy of the book.

My own sense of vanity ran deeper than any river. The great Jackson Slater renowned for his looks. And I was. My personal routine involved several hours a day before many mirrors in a grooming ritual that would make a cat’s look amateur. For the most part I had lived my entire life pretending that nothing was happening around me. I hadn’t worried about such things.

And I couldn’t be more wrong. There was plenty happening all around me, I just didn’t care about it. Besides everything went away if you threw enough money at the problem.  And if it didn’t, ignoring it often worked for me.

Jackson, I want you to know this isn’t about the money. It’s a matter of my word. My integrity. I promised to come through on my end of things.” Haller tells me softly as the boat shimmies a little faster.

Unlike most people I was hardly the kind of fellow to be drawn in. As a matter of my own personal character I felt it was my duty to be exactly the opposite. I’m the type of man who would fervently deny that a building was on fire to save myself the trouble of becoming involved. It meant caring and that would not do. People want a piece of you and then that is one less piece you have for yourself.

And lack of involvement is exactly where I find myself this windy April evening.  Somewhere in the bay I’m free of the mask and looking at the man…

Haller Thomson came into my life exactly the same way a freight train mows down your car when the engine stalls on the tracks. With the fury of an uncontainable beast, Haller came forth. And it wasn’t something I could have seen coming before it happened. It wasn’t money that he was after when he came. It was so much more.

A man with an offer only a shallow man wouldn’t refuse…

If you help me, I will help you. Give a little of this for a little of that. And I went along for it. Including the part where I had planned to double-cross the man. Because I only thought of what he could offer me.  

Except it never works out the way we plan.

Plan? I bet the great Jackson Slater wants to know. Don’t you? Well, Jack I don’t have a plan. Except for tying you up and gagging you. That. That’s a plan. Don’t struggle. We’re almost there.”

Haller wanted someone to help with a situation. It was a matter of vanity; as any man can attest to his own level of vanity. Haller was a bit different. He was concerned and wanted no more than a bit of help becoming more involved with others despite his own shortcomings.

You see, Haller wasn’t a good looking man. In fact, you might call him unattractive after he’s left the room. And for what it’s worth, I thought I did him a favor after I pocketed most of his money. At the time I thought there was nothing I could have done to draw flies to that level of hideous. But I did what I thought worked best… for me.

Haller took a new name, a new lifestyle, and a new set of bills thanks to me. He lived and breathed my routine of shallow and I gladly introduced him to the right people at the right places. And with a little less than luck he fell right into it. Haller took to it like a fish takes to toxic waste waters and grows a third eye. It wasn’t a gradual mutation either. Overnight there was a new fresh uninvolved man and it wasn’t me.

Haller began to see me, the great Jackson Slater as direct competition to his new persona. A person with an agenda that no longer matched his own. You have to wonder where the struggle began. Exactly right after he decided that he could do it without me. And for a lot cheaper. Once he realized I was taking him for a pretty penny, Haller Thomson decided that it was time to fulfill his end of things.

An eye for an eye.

And what was my request? I was tired of all that was happening around me. I wanted to escape from all of it; being Jackson Slater with the people, their nonsense, and their involvement. I simply asked this man to help to put me in a place where I would never have to deal with these kinds of situations ever again. And now much to my dismay, Haller is holding up his end of the arrangement.

Jackson, it’s been fun. Now… get off my boat.” With the bottom of his boot, Haller shoves me out into the dark water. Despite what I expect, I don’t sink. As his tiny boat moves away from me, I watch without control as the cold water splashes against me.

This isn’t exactly the escape I’d hope for but I didn’t specify when I asked. I only wanted out.

Now I am.

Completely out. Out to sea. Adrift. Letting the waves wash over me.

Careful what you ask for. Even now as I sink slowly and my eyes watch the emergency buoy float further away from me I know that pretending that nothing else exists will be the thing that seals my fate. Because not one person will notice. I was so busy avoiding it all that it wouldn’t make any difference.

Sunday, November 10, 2013


Some men love to be in drag! What can I say? Drag away you dirty men! Just know that the man I dig would never let himself get into drag. It would hurt his junk and that would never do for moi! So you dirty men don't hurt your junk too much when you go out in drag! That's important!

Anyhow this little ol pic reminds me of something dark I once wrote. Since I'm sharing for a few new readers... Here's another old story where another fabulous picture captures the real life sentiment of the very fictional tale  completely! 

Zachary Quinto from the Dirty Side of Glamour c/o

ALSO: If you haven't seen the new Justin Timberlake video, TKO... It somewhat captures the pure malevolence of my vision more cinematically. Although it's fake movie magic... Give it a look-see.

Kisses, m

Six Feet

Night. Pitch Black. Headlights. Rain. Mud. He’s held up pretty well considering the 10 mile walk out here in the middle of nowhere. Barefoot for about the last 8 miles, I’d reckon. Well I’ve just spent the last 10 miles dragging this bastard down an unmarked road. Tied a rope to the hitch of my truck and gave him a 10 ft lead. Of course he fell a few times. Now about dragging someone on a rope while driving, it’s a chore cause if you go too fast he’ll end up all bloody & damaged and if you’re going too slow chances are he might jump in back. Not this one. He’s quite obedient. He’s a bit roughened up, but there’s no real damage yet. Shirt’s torn and almost gone. Well, he won’t need that anyhow.

He’s on the muddy ground in front of me. Filthy from falling in the muddy road along the way. As I’m digging he’s watching me, pleading for his life with his eyes. See I’ve got the upper hand here. We haven’t said a word since I tied him to the truck. In fact, this bastard is so sorry that he will do anything to make it up to me. His last words were something about eternal love and gratitude…etc. Sounded like begging to me. Untied and in the mud, he could’ve run at any moment. Yet he sits and stares at me, with eyes full of love and passion. Honestly all this obedience… I’m not impressed. I’m not changing my mind. I crack him with the shovel. “BASTARD!” He has me out here in the rain, digging in the filthy mud, “OUCH!” A broken nail as my hand slips down the handle. I crack him again. He stays and takes my abuse. I continue to dig.

Six feet. I continue to dig with the occasional glance at my dearly beloved. He never stops watching me, with those deep penetrating eyes, piercing my heart and confusing my mind. Damn! I’m in too deep to crack him with the shovel. “STOP IT!” I can’t take him back. This will only continue to happen. He can’t help himself. And he doesn’t understand. I wish he was like this all the time, but he’s not. It’s only a matter of hours even minutes before he changes again. And the madman emerges. It’s like night and day, Jekyll and Hyde. No matter how much I love him, this has to end. I could look the other way when he killed the animals and even all those evil men he hunted down. But that poor girl. What he did to her was horrific. It was hard to believe a human was capable of such physical violence. It took me three days to find all of her parts, minus the ones the monster kept as souvenirs, in that room. The one I’m not allowed into. It was quite frightening when I picked the lock that day. It couldn’t be helped. Not after that trail of blood that zigzagged its way down the hall and disappeared under the door.

“Get in the hole!” I scream. I have a rifle pointed square at the back of his head. He gets up and climbs in. “SIT DOWN.” He pauses and stares at me with those gorgeous eyes I can’t resist. I wish he wouldn’t, it only makes this harder. See I have to shoot him and I hate killing things. I cry when I run over small animals. I can’t imagine doing this for sport. It’s still raining. I’m crying. I sit down and drop the gun. Before I know it I’m in the hole kissing him goodbye.

“BANG!” sounds the gun, just as he breaks away from my kiss. His body pauses, he looks at me one last time and falls to the ground. He knew. Had the gun the whole time. I’m relieved. I was going to let the monster out of the hole. Selfishly I didn’t want to live without him no matter the cost. Even my life.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Revisiting The D Chronicles - (Men): Clean Up!

Zachary Quinto - Muddy photo credit: tyler shields c/o

Every now and then, there's nothing wrong with getting a little dirty. Dirty can be quite sexy. But maybe it's time to clean up your dirty act? Here's another delicious "D" man for you to taste. If you'd like more then head on over to Amazon. Enjoy! 

Kisses, m.


It’s only another seven days thought Patrick Mulland as he looked over at the mud that covered his bare skin. Shirtless and barefoot, coming to in the middle of a dark mud hole is the last place anyone wants to end up. But that’s exactly where he found himself.  This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this predicament. Hell it probably wouldn’t be the last. But as he lay completely wasted in the water logged dirt he realized that this couldn’t happen again. At least he didn’t want it to. Not again. He would need to start again and that meant time apart.

Patrick Mulland couldn’t remember what life was like when he wasn’t dirty. As any committed man finds it hard to remember what it was like before they met their one and only. And Patrick was no different. When Patrick first met his black label princess he knew it was a love affair that he couldn’t walk away from. He hadn’t been without her since he wasn’t twenty-five. Eight years ago he’d meant his lady love for the first time and unlike his best mate she’d never let him down. She was a long and cool when the taste on his tongue was intoxicating before it slid down his throat. And one taste was never enough. That and that reason alone he was willing to stay dirty for his old lady.



What you have to understand is that Patrick Mulland wasn’t always a dirty man. He was a man with a plan. He had a goal in life. Everything had purpose before she came along. He didn’t see it coming and no one warned him about these situations. As most will tell you… once you’re in it’s damn hard to get out. And they wouldn’t be wrong in that thought.

Patrick’s bare feet were blacker than he’d ever seen them. His head spinning as he carries his half empty princess back to the house. She’d dragged him to several dark alleys but never out into the middle of no where. Certainly not during a rainstorm. He couldn’t help but wonder why she’d begun to treat him so badly. He was a good man and always stood by her side even when his friends and family pleaded with him to give her up. Johnny had definitely drawn a line in the dirt this time and Patrick was absolute when he decided there was no going back.

Halfway back from no where it started to rain again. The cold water beats against Patricks bare shoulders and he knows this is the last place he ever wants to be again. As the cold hard rain beats against his chest the dirt washes clean. In that moment he knows this has to change. He can’t live a life like this. Patrick used to be a man of integrity and know this person he had become… well he could hardly recognize himself. Good ol Johnny girl had led him astray for the last time. With every ounce of sobering strength he had Patrick Mulland broke his good ol girl against the hard wet surface of a grey oak tree.

Johnny Walker Black hadn’t been a good mistress all these years.  In fact she’d been a poor companion with a tendency towards extremes. Sometimes she kept Patrick high as a kite and other times she had him low as the very mud he was traipsing through this cold dark wet rainy evening. Johnny was a fun time gal but the kind of fun she wanted was too much for Patrick Mulland.

Patrick came to a decision between sign marker 12 and 14. It was a absolute that couldn’t be taken back. It was a moment when he was all alone in the world and Johnny wasn’t enough company. No matter how many times she would sing it, her song wouldn’t change his mind this time. And he knew what needed to be done.

Goodbye. A word that no one ever wants to come. Bu this cool woman with her sting and taste had been enough for Patrick. This was something they had done time and time again. If he could change her or him it might be different. Somehow he knew it would never change and they would never be different.

However tonight, was that moment of variation. Patrick Mulland had had enough. He’d reached a limit that others never see. He wanted out. A goodbye to the mistress that had kept him prisoner for so very long. Instead of rejoice it was a moment that felt like ice. It was a colder moment than he could ever imagine. But it was a moment that needed to happen. Seven days followed by six nights had sobered him up in the past and tonight with the dirt washed clean from his face he knew it would need to be enough again.

Goodbye lover.
Goodbye grace.

Patrick Mulland knew this was the end. He had never quite pictured himself wrecking a car in the dark, dark night but that’s the way it happened. It was the only way he would be able to say goodbye to Johnny. Although it felt colder than he’d remembered he knew that it was something that needed to be done. Patrick had once found that life could offer him so much more than what he’d settled on. Johnny just happened to be one of those things that he’d settled on.

And Patrick Mulland knew that if there were only a thousand things he could change it would be his relationship with Johnny. Tonight happened to be a night worth changing things. He was clean. Cleaner than he’d ever been. Somehow as the rain washed the mud from him on this cold and dark night, Patrick felt with certainty this was the night. The night he said goodbye for good