Date

thoughts, well accounts really:

We23-10-02

Pain in the ass?
just ram a stick of dynamite in there,
solves all your problems

You may have read the 02-10-02 entry, where a little confession about an emberrassing personal problem was hidden in between 2 lady-love-stories. But that hardly did justice to the, pretty horrendous, impact this little problem has had to my daily life since and I owe it to my sense of honesty (you could call it exhibitionism, I don't care) to come back to it. Consider it as a bit of public education in the field of STD's (SOA in Dutch), as this could happen to you all, I guess.

End of september I first noticed a weird swelling somewhere around my ass. I also mentioned on 18-9 that I was troubled with irritating itches, so high time to go to the GP for a checkup. My GP only fingered my ass to check if anything was wrong with my prostate, which luckily he could not determine. He did not finger the backside of my anus, where, as I have determined myself since, the problem lied. He just gave me a referral note for an endoscopy to be performed at the local hospital.
Now you must know, one of the problems our country is suffering from most these days is failing heath care. Our hero Pim Fotuyn even planned to take the previous minister of health to court on a mass-murder charge: direct blame and cause of mass deaths through irresponsible delay of medical intervention; lots of people died waiting for cancerdiagnoses and treatment. Death could have been prevented if the diagnose was made directly when they first had complaints. Since then Pim's party got into governement and his minister went to work immediately, only . . . Last week, the other two parties pulled the plug, stopping everything dead in it's tracks and we're once again on our way to elections. But let's talk about that some other time again.

Well, my problem is not cancer, but I'm on a waitinglist until december just the same. And my problem had no intention of waiting quitly with me. It got worse and that is an understatement: it got to be sheer hell. From a slight sense of there being a swelling in my rectum, it got to be an open wound in there, causing excrutiating pain every time a bit of shit had to be passed along there, with spasms and twitches pulling all the way through my left leg and back. It got worse and worse, making a stool session a nightmare comparable only to giving birth or worse, and had me dreading and postponing the moment I got out of bed. After a shit-session it took hours until I could sit again and do some work. I just had to keep standing or walking. And even then, with empty bowels, it still felt like I was walking around with a sack of potatoes up my ass. Because early in the morning in bed was the only time of day I felt no pain I overslept nonstop for two weeks in a row and missed two docter appointments to ask for anal painkillers or possible medicines. But our health system does leave a few options other then waiting:
first,
I did go to the free access GGD clinics to make absolutely sure no other VD, like herpes, glamidia, anal clap, even HIV was at work here. I also used the opportunity once there to check my level of resistance to hepatitis A and B. Pretty useful, considering the way my preferences are still getting ever deeper into shit. (incredible as it may sound after reading this story). Both were sufficient, a relative relief.
Second:
I did do some more self diagnosis and with the help of the excellent dutch do it yourself web-healthcare, set up to lighten the burden of our failing health system. I got to the conclusion I had an anal fissure. Most likely caused by having my ass fucked by a giant dick without any lube on tuesday the 10th of september.

At the time I allowed it to happen I was thinking: "are you mad?" your asking for trouble here without lube. But the owner had such a confident sweet smile that I let him go ahead and indeed, he got it in with just one push.

I did not notice any serious damage was done. And I was not drunk or semiconcious on any other drugs. If I'd known the consequenses I'd never would have allowed this to happen.

In the web studies I also found that since 1997 there is a treatment for this leaving 90 % of the cases cured with only a slight headache as side effect. The medicine is a rectally taken ointment containing isosorbide-nitrate or nytroglycerine (yes, dinamite in your ass, hooray!). The mention of headache as side effect and the word nitrite made me put two and two together and conclude that poppers could also be used as a medicine here and since I was almost dying of pain last sunday I set myself to a diet of 3 hourly sniffs. (I did not dare to insert that anally, remembering the strong burning sensation that even a finger with poppers remnant on it can cause near your ass). Last weekend the pain got so bad that I set three alarms for mondaymorning to be at the open hours at my GP in time. So I stood there at seven in the morning on a cold and windy canal only to find he was on holidays till the end of the month. I feld sooo misarable, but then again, I was not going to get defeated by failing healthcare. Just took a deep breath and walked over to the replacing GP's practice and registered. He even lives much closer to home; same street even. I was helped by a really nice guy, who again fingered my ass and diagnosed the fissure as I did myself and did indeed give me a prescription for the midicine I concluded earlier would help. So now I'm trying every 3 hours to insert a bit of the stuff in my ass, which must make a spectacle of sorts. Dosage is a problem because the squeezing of a tube gives little information of exactly how much goes in, but the sensation that most resembles that it's freezing in my ass assures me something indeed went in. I do have the feeling it is working, but I'll keep you posted on my shitting experiences in the days to come. Hope I'll be up to a real sex session again in time for the Bastille Party at Vagevuur next week.
Last nite at the wasdag was the best attendence in quantity and quality for months, but I've excused myself from any invitation for actual sex there. That was a first for me.

Fr 11-10-02

Royal Funeral

you may have seen the image on the left before, me on scates on the canal in front of my home, but there is an excuse to reuse it now:
The church behind me there is once again the focus of attention for the entire country: for the first time in forty years a royal funeral is coming up:
prince Claus, most popular member of our royal family and husband of the rather bitchy Queen Beatrix, has died, and after 10 days of national mourning on an unprecedented scale he will be laid to rest in the royal gravecellar there.
The artillery has been rehearsing the gun-salute for a full week, right in front of our house.

Every pavementbump in the funeral route has been evened out by more public workers then I knew existed in the entire country and the whole city will be closed next tuesday; no traffic can come in or out. Only, I have to work in Baarn, (where accidentally Claus and Beatrix lived when they got married) and I don't know how I can sneek out of Delft with the whole army guarding the city. Maybe a (movie inspired) rush escape on motorbike will work, so if you hear of a potential terrorist on motorbike being killed, don't worry, it was just silly old me.

Su 06-10-02

Joan of Arc

an excerpt from a Rex interview I just read; very enlightening and my thoughts exactly, as today, in a continuing avalanche of any freedom-of-thought violence in Europe, Paris's gay mayor got stabbed:

Just like dogs, children are often present or engaged in the sex acts you depict. And like dogs, they appear to be willing and aroused participants in intense sex, often with characters that are generally seen as safe and comforting (the clown, for example). What are you trying to say to us here?

Oh, this is what I'd call a "Joan of Arc question."

You see, a long time ago there was this kid named Joan, well, actually she wasn't a kid but she was young enough to be pretty naive. And Joan had this "vision" thing going for her, that's to say she claimed she saw something it wasn't there in reality, mind you – it was something that existed in her head or at least she thought she saw it.

When the Church and State got wind of this vision business of hers, they went ballistic! Because it was blasphemy – according to the laws of that time and place, to think anything other than what "they" said you could.

Sound familiar? Anyhow, the Church and State arrested Joan for this vision she had and said, "Girl, you're dead meat if you don't renounce this vision and sign a document saying so."

Well, Joan, being just a kid, I suppose, and you know how contrary teenagers can be, said, "I'm not going to renounce my vision. I know what I saw and no one's going to force me to say I didn't see it." Well the shit hit the fan when these Church and Government types heard that, so they burnt her at the stake as an example to others not to think on their own; not to think any other way than what the Church and State tell you to think.

So what the hell does this have to do with your question? Simply this. In each time and place in history there are subjects too blasphemous, too heretical, to ever be discussed in a public forum without risking being burned at the stake. To answer your question in such a public forum as the internet would be tantamount to heresy in contemporary American society. This is an inappropriate place to discuss such a topic for it invites church and state to eliminate the person with the heretical vision.

As in Joan's time, there are laws against certain visions in our society too. I think of art as a "vision," not a "reality." But one has only to download this interview and distribute it around the globe within seconds if one so desires and insult many cultural and religious belief systems in the process. We should keep in mind, as the world is increasingly dumbed-down to accommodate the vast numbers of archaic religions and clueless governments, that the internet now serves as a pipeline of unwanted "visions" downloaded daily into fortressed lives. As in Joan's time, the solution to unwanted visions, [those] contrary to their own, is death to the visionary. We should also keep in mind the world is not a democracy – nor is free speech tolerated or the expression of new ideas permitted – in most places on this planet whose populations are living quite happily in the twelfth century with all the mental baggage that this term implies as concerns such subjects as homosexuality, the role of women, sex, etc.

I dare say some parts of the United States appear to be living in the twelfth century from what I read in the papers, Washington in particular. For these various cultures, Church and State don't permit individuals to have visions opposed to those sanctioned by themselves. There are laws against them.

I've enough death threats from religious groups as it is without inviting further woe by using this public forum to discuss topics that many others can only find heretical. I've no doubt there's a bullet with my name on it being prepared by them as we speak for some perceived slight against their culture that I've already expressed here. Remember always the lesson of Joan of Arc: people who think for themselves are killed.

Further,
I never consider what my men are doing as either humiliating or degrading, that's another man's interpretation and he's entitled to it. I do consider being a slave-wager in some dead-ended desk job from nine-to-five so you can own thirteen kinds of deodorants an extremely humiliating and degrading way to live. But that is only my interpretation.

I'm sure there are many sweet-smelling dudes out there who don't share my vision of personal degradation. But I don't know this type of man. The men in my life, the men in the visions I create, are seemingly engulfed in a religious-like ecstasy, I suppose, because I've experienced such ecstasy in my own sexual encounters. That is as close to spiritual ecstasy as I'll probably ever get. I never got that feeling from a deodorant, or any religion for that matter; that revelatory moment which says, "This is what I'm living for!"

At the age of twenty I could have easily given you thirty or forty things I'd never do. But in the intervening years, I've met people who've taught me to enjoy those very things. At fourteen, I'd have considered it unspeakable to sniff an armpit – not so at forty! So always beware of the things you'll never do in life; they've got your name written on them and they're out there somewhere just marking time till they find you.

We 02-10-02

Conny

What's this? I hear you say. Me going wild about a Woman? Yes I'm in love with this girl:

As a child I've spent many an hour at Schiphol airport, when KLM had 48 of them, seeing off an uncle emigrating to Canada or an aunt going to work in Glasgow. The most impressive view on the tarmac would be that wicked looking hunchback called Superconstellation. With it's high nosewheel, it's

curved back, three tailrudders it had a look that has not been rivalled since. Only Concorde has the same nosewheel, it's hunchback look (and produces

about the same amount of smoke and noise when taking off). I'm very happy that one of two of the still airworthy specimen has found it's way back to Schiphol for a permanent stay at the museum there.

now quickly to a topics you expect of me, not really nice this time, but hey, who said all here should be uplifting?
Yes, ass trouble is the topic today: I'm troubled with a nasty 'pain in the ass' and it's literally this time: shitting feels like giving birth. (how do I know how that feels, you ask, you've got a point). Have eliminated most VD-causes now. Results came back of tests yesterday: it's not Ghonorea. So I guess it's back to my GP tomorrow. While I'm in A'dam I'll also do another HIV test today, but the risk of that being a cause must also be minimal. My GP has had a (finger)look at my prostate, and could not find abnormalities there. So what is it? I can walk around untroubled all day, but as soon as the usual daily pressure builds in the rectum, it hurts and it pulls through my left leg. Something is definitely not ok around there and I want this shitty puzzle solved! I did get a far too big dick shoved up my ass like 3 weeks ago in the shaft, and that was without lube, so something could be torn there, however, then it would be around or at the spinxter, but that feels just fine. It's higher up, and behind the bowellining I guess. Start thinking it might be a tumorous thing there, but let's not jump to conclusions. I've abstained from most sexual activity for two weeks now and that is the hardest bit: I want to go to the Shaft tonite!

Winny

hope this thing with women does not get any further, but it's time for another love declaration YIPPY !!!

Winny de Jong: "Ik ben de LPF"
I guess she is, at least more than Wijnschenk and Hogendijk, ultra unpopular opportunists, but doing an exellent job at ripping this party to pieces.
Like Pim she has a few quirks, she is far more neurotic, has a funny German accent but she certainly proved that she's not afraid of a fight:
Her aggressive approach to journalists, I just lovit: "hou nou toch 's op met zulke stomme vragen!" (I don't answer stupid questions like that)
some more newsquotes in dutch:
- Het omstreden LPF-Tweede-Kamerlid Winny de Jong zal zich niet laten wegsturen door het fractiebestuur. "Als Wijnschenk en consorten mij proberen weg te krijgen wordt het iedere dag oorlog. Dat kan ik hebben. Ik ben een gekozen Kamerlid en kan niet worden weggestuurd. Bovendien ben ik de LPF en zal desnoods als LPF-eenmansfractie doorgaan." De Jong benadrukte dat zij alle ellende van de afgelopen dagen alleen op haar hals heeft gehaald om orde op zaken te stellen in de fractie. "En dan ga je toch niet weg als je de vruchten ervan kan plukken. Dan ben je wel gek." De Jong maakte haar opmerkingen maandagavond tijdens een politiek café in Den Haag. Na afloop van het café-debat fulmineerde zij over het dilettantisme bij de leden van het fractiebestuur. "Zij zijn helemaal aan het flippen."

We 18-09-02

Ever had straight guys throwing themselves on the ground for you?

Happened to me last sunday. Did I tell you about the scottish skirt I got at Vagevuur on the warfuck nite?

No, that has not yet been reported on here at all, because from that moment on I went from crisis to crisis: Owee finances, Wasdag staffshortage, work strategies, bad itches, originally thought to originate from a furniture-infection by the clap or scabies or other lice, which caused us to rush into a mad cleanup sweep of couches and everything textile at the Wasdag, followed by one of our bodies with the appropriate shampoos and other medicines. Well, this problem was the least of all and is solved. It's one of the risks you run when operating a place like ours. We do take cleaning and hygene serious though, serious!
Many other problems still hang in the balance, however.

Some nice things first:
Got myself the skirt on my last Vagevuur excursion for giving a ride home to a guy who owns a shop in secondhand cult clothing in Tilburg. Had it altered to make it more fitting to my own purposes. This means I had it cut in half, so

it now shows considerably more upper leg. As we had great weather this sunday and this was probably the first and last chance this season I decided to wear it at the gay market in Rotterdam, where I was for a wasdag and shaft promo action. when we sat down for drinks the table next to us was populated by a group of 17 year old skaterboys. They were having great fun about my outfit, tattoos and piercings. When we got up some 15 minits later I suddenly found myself surrounded by those same guys, laying flat on the ground underneath me to check if I indeed was not wearing anything underneath the skirt.

Luckily I could offer some of them a good view and they could confirm to their friends that this was the case.
Now isn't that hart (uh, ball) warming
for us fashionqueens?
WOW!

We 11-09-02

Delftboys server and some trivial thoughts

Tuesday at 17h45 CET, the server that carries the delftboys site seems to have crashed. Causing it to be down for 15 hours. It's back up this morning. Hope it stays with this single event.

some more thoughts about the events of a year ago:
They don't make jews like Jesus anymore
(Kinky Friedman)
on hypocricy and selfrighteousness:

I feel for everybody that has lost his life last year in NYC but UK and UK bomberplanes did kill over thousand, thousand times that many real lives in bombing german cities in WWII and another small bunch only totalling a quarter of that in Korea, Vietnam, Middle and South America.
real meaning they also had wives, partners, children, friends, just as the WTC victims.

if you can say it was not the real islam that did the WTC attacks, then it also is not the real Jewish religion that does not look at the Palestinians as equal countrymen, not to say that it was the real christian faith that murdered the Inca people completely out of existence and inquisitioned all intellectual renewal out of existence in the 14th and 15 th century.

if so uncredibly much uglyness goes on in the world justified out of relious doctrines and securities then religion itself must still be the ugliest thing we have to fear in the world
religion is a misguided seach for security and a criminal activity.

Su 8-09-2002

Robbie

Just saw his Royal Albert Hall concert on BBC1
making this a week that cannot go wrong anymore

I'd love to share a bit of it with you, so for a gorgeously gay duet on video click here (for realplayer in proper 16:9 and 3,5 Meg)

We 3-09-2002

Gross Indecency
(we're reclaiming the Victorian term! Get used to it!)
taken from the slut

Tu 02-09-2002

Berlin

Pfwww, dead tired, back home again. But radiating! some real nice things happened these last few days:
First:
going there on the bike: 7 hours on the way up, 6 on the way back. That is making it something like a pilgrimage. Went on my own this time, always good to make up ones mind.
second:
Slept at gaybed.de, Ecke Perlegerger und Stephanstrasse in Moabit. How nice to have a place where you sit in your underpants at the breakfasttable with only gay tourists. There were two black guys from the UK, that at that time just got in from dancing all night and another Uk guy who lived in Warzaw and was in dire need of some other culture. He was raving about the beauty of a streetworker who was digging up cables barechested, totally unaware that his asscrack was in full view. Berlin is a city like that. So in perfect order, so safe, so courteous! Girls on their own cycling back home after partying at 3 AM. Something there that we are desparately searching in our society. Also gay culture is so well established. They have a gay mayor there, (on show in marble on the left), Don't think it is his doing, but Berlin is so much more welcoming to gay tourists than Amsterdam. Annelieze van der Stoel, inner city mayor there has a hard job of catching up to do, if ever. Don't think she'll be able to effectively terminate environmental terrorists there. I'm jealous!
Third:
On thursdaynight I went to the Hasenheide Freiluftkino and saw 'Velvet Goldmine' there. Was swept away and will get back on that later, as aI plan to do a Themenight on that movie with Gary Glitter, Bowie, T-Rex, Sweet, Reed, Iggy Pop and Roxy music and attitude and clothes to match. To illustrate Berlin: Got into a fight with an old lady, when I was trying to find this Freiluftkino in the middle of this huge park, which was not 'ausgeschildet' at all, I entered the parkparthways with my motorbike. I went deadslow, just looking for a bikeparkingspace, which are on many parks near the entrance. She really wanted to make a citizens arrest: Such a contrast with my country!
Three B
Just time after that for a short visit to Club Culture Houze, which to me really has been the blueprint for the DWH-Wasdag. The interior is a Pierre et Gille or Robert Bidgood image come alive. It looked even nicer now than I remembered it. Great casual atmosphere. Great bodies too!
Fourth:
next morning I got to do what I'd left undone last time I was in Berlin, making pictures of what is so special for gay visitors: the statues of 'Sans Souci', Two monarchs are supposed to have been fully and partly gay in the seveteenth century, and nobody in the BRD seems to have hangups about that. The Germans great tolerance and appreciation for male nudes is unriveled in the world and nowhere does it show more that at Sans Souci, jampacked with nude statues. A small selection is on show here.
Fifth:
Now I'm coming to that same part again where I'm not at all sure, but it is just what this diary is supposed to be about. Just that, I have no escape. So if you're not into my kinks and don't have any sensibility for them (I'm not saying you should share them), skip the next bit: you'll puke!
Was at the Lab-oratory for two consecutive nights. And boy are those Germans fanatic once they've surrendered themselves to a fad. They have an almost religeous fanaticism about it. Wow, I'm jealous again! Nothing like a safesex policy here. Seen some great fucking and did participate. I've told here before that my policy is the calculated risk. So I don't allow guys to cum up my ass, and only do that myself when specifically asked and when I've had a recent confirmation of my own neg status. The first night was Golden-Showernight, and the theme-action was kind of lame to start, but it was just a matter of filling up on Beck's first. Once that was inside things started flowing nicely, and boy, was it sweet: Was at it for hours with a great blond German. Huge dick, supersweet piss, supersweet ass too, and boy could he fuck! Wasted me completelty.
Sixth:
Time for some swimming at Wannsee gay nudebeach. Most amazing there was the amount of gay dads. Gay couples with children, never seen so many of these before. Had read somewhere that the amount of officially registered gay marriages in Germany is only half that of the Netherlands, but I got a completely different impression at the Wannsee, it seems to be all the rage and I must say it looked adorable: magnificent naked men playing with beautiful naked kids. Pity it was ofiicially forbidden to take pix there. Only took one on the dressed beach.

Seventh,
and actually my reason for going to Berlin was the Lab-scatnite. Had a great encounter last time there with Michael, the manager of the place. He sports the most impressive set of piercings I know in the world. Not in quantity but is size! All 5 or 6 mm thick and perfectly appropriate for the size of the organs they decorate. Also has an enormous goat/satyr/centaur tattood on his back and legs, boy is this guy impressive. Martin had asked me to say hi, but I did not get a chance there: every time I tried he was re-supplying drinks, simply lost or busy with somebody. Too bad. Had a fantastic exchange with an English skinhead in full attire, braces, Vikings, the lot, Boy do I like the view of a fat ass and flaccid dick showing through jeans pulled up tight. Just had to put my mouth at work on both. I'm finally getting there at real ass eating, and mixed together with Becks, this guy proved real tasty. He was pretty professional in serving well sized portions which we then munched and kissed on together, gghhummmmm. Did try to build a good shitload for the party myself and had not dumped anything since I got to Berlin, so you'd think I'd be able to serve up quite something, but sometimes traveling, a different environment, the massage of 8 hours of motorbiking, and most of all big fat dicks pumping your ass, all have weird effects: No produce whatever! I tried to get this gorgeous dick inside of me lubed with a good layer of my bowel content, but all that I really managed was forcing out his dick, which in addition came out squeekyclean. Well, no man overboard: Just resorted to covering it with a coating of his own shit. Boy do I wish I had my camera there. It looked sooooo tasty! Like a huge HEMA halfsausage with mustard, but then much thicker in the middle.
Eight
Back to the B&B, a few hours of sleep, then coffee, a shit (my bowels had miraculously returned to normal) and off to NL.
I'm rejuvenated!

Tu 28-08-2002

new season, NEW PAGE

off . . . .
for a dirty-action-packed weekend in Berlin, well at the Lab-oratory mostly. Love to see you there, and if you want your asss filmed or other body partsss or sssubstancesss, you can ssstill get me on the phone on +31 654607291
And if you don't, well then I'll just have to make do with all the royal bodyparts, as I also plan to film all the statues at Sans Souci, Potzdam.

do not read on if you're easily depressed

What I'm pretty tired of
is mostly last week's DWH - OW activities.
I've seen quite a few e-mails passing by congratulating the teammembers for the fantastic result. While I don't see any result yet:
Are we online for a good danceparty?
Are we online for a good fridaynight at LG22?
Are we online to challenge new local gay enterprises?
don't see it , sorry.
25 new members would indeed be a fantastic result, but why claim that number when one new member could be called an eclatant succes for us or a gain of over 1000% as last year we had none. They consist for more than 50% of guys who could have joined years ago; no newcomers to dwh.
If they are going to isolate themselves further on thursdaynights without integrating into the other nights it will simmer out in a few months and all effort is lost. I hope this is not what is waiting to happen, but, it is the course the ship is sailing now, so Frank, do something in steering this ship instead of mindless happy - happy flagwaving. It does not make me happy, on the contrary.
further,
I found it the worst organised Owee since we moved into LG22, some 15 years back: nothing was clearly prepared and running according to a scedule. It all was a dreamy very global plan without personel or progress checks. Just waiting for things to go wrong or not to happen at all or last minit assistance from the old reliable team.
further,
I feel the dwh has been given away to a few dreamers and kids who have no plan on running a venue under a silly slogan: Let's go outsite, yeah, run away from LG22 and leave it in a sorry state.
further,
The whole team has fallen into a state of hybernation now. 2 of our best barmen are lost, one went sailing on a oiltanker; another goes off to the only other gay bar in Delft, as yet, de Klok, leaving us with just 5 other barmen to run 3 and a halve nights a week. Wow, now that is a challenge! I don't see the challenge anymore, and doubt that I'm capable of keeping the ship afloat on mondays. And frankly, (?¿) I'm not that motivated anymore: I feel pretty betrayed if the guy who always said the Laundryday were his roots into the dwh pulls the rug from under your feet, leaves the whole bar running in disarray, and then goes jumping up and down that he's so happy with this Owee. Well Frank, dream on . . .

2002 may
until august

It's all here

my whole account on a weird summer
and so much more
if you got the time
read on . . .