Wednesday, September 20, 2017


by Daddy X

The life I’ve been granted should ideally accomplish what was intended. My last post expounded on a basic philosophy exemplified by Clarence “Pine Top” Smith’s quote: “Use what you got, 'cause that’s all you get.” 

When I was a teenager, well before I had sex, I used to carry the ubiquitous condom to dry up in my wallet just to— be prepared— as the Boy Scouts say. It wasn’t until I actually began having sex that I realized the rubbers no longer lasted. I’d buy a 3-pack and they’d be gone that night. Wheeee!

Same with packing a suitcase. I tend to travel with lots of stuff because I wouldn’t want to miss out on any unexpected pleasure. So typical baggage would include a bathing suit, tent, fishing rods & tackle box, fishing hat, nice hat, camera, dress clothes, funky clothes, weed, magnifying glass, loupe and whatever else the destination might possibly call for.

I believe I was bestowed with an enhanced capacity for pleasure. My suitcase runneth over, so to speak. There are so many people who don’t seem to have that capacity, always looking for the down side. Consequently, they tend to lead sad lives.

It’s understood that our individual histories have a lot to do with difference in perspective, but my life hasn’t been a bowl of cherries either. In OGG posts over the years, I’ve mentioned the scars of illness that both Momma X and I have had to endure. She was sick for over a decade early on in her life, and some things never truly resolve, though they do become bearable. My problems came later in the form of cancer and subsequent liver transplant, followed by a triple bypass several years later. Just mentioning these things so the rest of this doesn’t sound overly lucky or privileged. I have the responsibility to use what I got these past 13 years because a young person died while I, the recipient of his liver, have the opportunity to go on living.

My approach to good food and drink is legendary among our friends. Once I’ve tasted a dish, I can identify the ingredients and how they were prepared. I’ve managed to not become terribly overweight, but do have to keep that aspect in mind. In one way or another we can use up those pleasure chips.

I used to be lots more fun. Sometimes too much fun. I liked booze. I liked the effect. I had a better time when I had a drink. Maybe I had an even better time than that—on two drinks. Not so with ten drinks. Or fourteen. A hard lesson to learn. That damn law of diminishing returns shows its ugly side with drugs too. Hence the liver transplant. No more drinking now. I’ve used up all my booze/hard drug chips.

Perhaps I’m afflicted by a version of Stendhal’s syndrome. I am physically affected by artistic form, depth and color. No, I’m not talking about erections per se, but it’s all part of the package. Or maybe part of the baggage?

At the supermarket, gym (Stairmaster) or on the street, there’ll be beautiful women to observe. At this age, I can find positive physical attributes in most women, so my observations aren’t necessarily any sort of quantification, but a too-late realization that there are admirable qualities in most women. This goes for inanimate objects too. I’m constantly breaking down landscapes, trees, clouds and buildings to their linear essentials, creating abstract visuals in my mind. Not the kind of guy likely to get bored.

I seem to enjoy trips to museums a whole lot more than most, though I do tire faster because after a while, the emotions evoked by art have a draining affect. Then my back starts to ache.

But the syndrome has served me well in the art and antiques trade. They say I have a “good eye.” It’s actually a passion. A passion I’m eternally grateful for. I see form in objects others don’t. I consciously recognize effects of art that function subliminally for most people.

I’ve always loved sex, another thing we’re meant to enjoy. I think I’ve enjoyed it more than most, at least still thinking about it at 73 frikkin’ years old. I know people who gave up the practice in their 30’s and 40’s, apparently happy about the outcome. What a waste.

Perhaps writing erotica has served to enhance and prolong that enjoyment for me, even though completing actual sex with another person is no longer an option.

In other words, I was born with a suitcase stuffed with a huge capacity for pleasure. Too many women, too much booze, too many beautiful things to see.

 Wouldn’t have it any other way.


  1. "Perhaps I’m afflicted by a version of Stendhal’s syndrome. I am physically affected by artistic form, depth and color. No, I’m not talking about erections per se, but it’s all part of the package. Or maybe part of the baggage?"

    A capacity for extreme joy is a fine affliction to have. I came across mention of a variation a while back and wish I could remember the name given to the phenomenon--the closest I've been able to come to describing it is as a "frisson" of pleasure that ripples briefly across the skin when I encounter something especially beautiful or deeply moving. I can never predict what will set it off. Visual art sometimes, a line of poetry or prose more often, music that seems to vibrate in the soul, a perfectly developed scene in a movie... As you sort of say, it's not orgasmic, but close enough. I thought until recently that everyone gets that feeling, but the article I read that gives it a name seems to indicate that only some of us are so "afflicted."

    Full disclosure--it doesn't have to be triggered by anything approaching high art. The last time I remember it happening was when I was watching the scene in the recent Star Wars movie where the light saber that had belonged to Luke Skywalker flew through the air, not to the hand of Luke's nephew who had gone over to the dark side, but to the girl Rey who had survived as a scavenger on a desert planet. I even knew the scene was coming and had brought many women to tears, but that didn't spoil its impact on me.

    1. I think it's not that uncommon a phenomenon to have those ripples over your skin, or up the backbone when we see powerful art. Or a searing pain at the base of the spine when we witness someone else's pain. But the finer aspects of those reactions do have to be recognized and developed as such. It puts us in better touch with our body.

  2. Reminds me of Charles Bukowski, the writing and the love of life. I've been more ascetic by nature though I always feel like I don't want to be. I'd love to just bust out. But you've done well. Garce

    1. As I have often said- I'm a lucky guy. Trick is to recognize it for the gift it is.


  3. "In other words, I was born with a suitcase stuffed with a huge capacity for pleasure. Too many women, too much booze, too many beautiful things to see."

    I've always described it as being born with a lot of "ya-yas" you need to get rid of. Some folks are born with none, and they live a safe, even life. Some are born with a few, and they need to learn how to get rid of them, so they don't rear their ugly heads when a person is, say, married with kids, and runs off with the sexy neighbor. Some of us are born with a whole lot of them, like I know I was. So I laugh when people say that "youth is wasted on the young." I sure as shit didn't waste my youth...I enjoyed every second of it! All the way up to when I met my husband when we were 25, which is actually, still pretty young. But finding so much of what I'd been seeking out, in one tall, sexy package, was a dream come true. So I made an honest man out of him, and we've been together ever since.

    But times have come and gone over the years, when my hormones were going crazy, and I'd feel the urge to fuck anything that came close enough for me to smell him. Then I'd remember that I'd "been there, done that, got the STD's to prove it." And I'd smile while reminding myself that most men are not as good as you hope they'll fact, most are majorly disappointing. Good thing I got rid of those "ya-yas" when I was young and single!

    But I have to doff my hat to you, because you've been at it for longer. I'd love to read your autobiography, but then, as erotic authors, I really think we put a lot of what we've experienced into our books. So since I've read some of your stuff, I think I actually already have. Thanks for sharing! What a great ride you've had!

    1. Yeah. You know that Hunter Thompson quote : "It never got weird enough for me."? Well, mine could be: "It was seldom enough for me."

      I do have the beginning of a memoir, that rides on my three jobs on Kearny Street in San Francisco. I work on it from time to time. Lisabet has read some of it.

  4. Living life with passion -- it's a gift, one that you have obviously both used and appreciated. I'm not sure any of this is genetic; it seems to have much more to do with how we look at reality. However, I could be wrong. Maybe some of us have a more potent pleasure gene.

    1. Momma X told a friend back east that we're going to see a Chinese acrobatic troupe. The friend said "Christ! That guy will watch anything!"

      I don't know how anyone could pass it up! :>)


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