If you are not yet eighteen, you'll need to make mischief elsewhere. (click here)
If viewing nudity offends you in any way (artistic nudity and/or graphic nudity) OR
If you are offended by the gay lifestyle and/or homo-erotic imagery click here.
I will not be responsible for small minded people or stupid people who know that they don't want or aren't supposed to look at dirty pictures and are doing it anyway. If any of the above describe you, click here.
THIS IS NOT A SEX SITE! (...exactly.) This is an artistic project designed to inform, amuse and excite you. If you stay the course, it might even free your mind. If you want a real xxx sex site, click here.
There are side avenues which often contain "the rest of the story." Some are about me, others are essays, anecdotes and other things too random to list. Hidden links in graphics will lead you to back alleys. Wear an athletic cup, it can get pretty rough in here.
For those who are wondering, many of the images contained in these personal pages were shamelessly stolen from other places on the web (all free sites). I have a reference page: if you must have it, I will e-mail it to you. I'm too lazy to match up each picture with each site, so you do the busy work. (There are actually pictures of me in here. You might be surprised which ones are really me.)
If you like the mischief files, check back often. I'll be introducing new installments every month. There are four chapters in the first installment. If you like the project, send me an e-mail by way of one of the links. If you don't like the site...piss off, I have enough friends.
I wasn't born in a trailer, but I did live in one as a child. In the trailer park, we were considered snobs because we lived in a "double wide." This was my first glimpse into an adult world obsessed with size...
Being a somewhat hyper child, my mother enlisted the aid of a family friend and her gaggle of adopted children to baby-sit when the need arose. Teddy was my favorite.
My mother kept a stack of Playgirl magazines in the closet in the hall (from those times between marriages). When Teddy came over, he would break out the magazines and we would look through them together. It never dawned on me at the time, but when I got older, I realized Teddy was the first gay person I had ever met.
Of course I wrestled with the whole "Did he make me gay" question. The current theories about how we get to be gay suggest that either it's genetic, or some psychological disorder we don't yet understand.
I recently read another insight into sexuality which suggests that there is no "gay" and "straight." That these terms are societal myths. Sexual attraction, the theory suggests is caused by "Cues" which have been "imprinted" at an early age, influencing who we are attracted to. After that, society creates the terms "straight" and "gay." This might change your life.
(If you take this side street, use your broswer's "back" button to return.)
I didn't like taking showers in school, either. I felt as if the weight of some momentous revelation or event was bearing down on me. I would get flushed and my heart would pound. It was just too much to see all of those guys stripped down...naked and sweaty after gym class. Our bodies were changing, and I couldn't resist looking...Down gave way to coarse curly hair...under the arms...on the calves...around their dicks...
The worst place to try to deal with the onslaught of adolescence when you're gay is High School. It's hard enough to keep from having a constant erection at that age, but to have such temptation so close every day...
I left my parents in Nashville, and accepted the scholarship in Memphis. I had two goals: finishing the Pre Med coursework and getting laid. From the minute I got out of Freshmen Orientation, I was on the prowl. There were hotties everywhere. I was still a virgin, but also horny and determined.
Then a friend of mine and I snuck into a gay bar for the first time. We were both eighteen. We walked in the door...and we had landed in Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory with a disco ball, a pulse and divas. For a year, I went out almost every night.
When I finally twirled out of the closet, I think I hit all my friends with my sequined purse. It was "gurrrl" this and "Mary" that. Cute, young, blonde and out, I was a Princess.
Mercifully for me and everyone else, the "Nelly" phase didn't last too long. I quickly grew tired of the drag shows, and stumbled upon something even campier. A friend took me to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I was stunned. Tim Curry is the Statue of Liberty of Drag Queens.
I soon returned to see the movie again...and again...and again...then ended up joining the local cast, and ultimately even moving into "The Rocky House" where most of the cast co-habitated. (We rented...eight gothic tri-sexual hippies in one three bedroom house. Feel the landlord's pain.)
So take a nice innocent college freshman and just add gay bars and Rocky Horror. Oh how far the trailer seemed from all of this, and how close it still really was. With all of this going on around me, it's no wonder I found even more mischief to get into...witches, druids and ...drugs (shhhh...).
The movie plays every Saturday at midnight at some theatre in almost every major city in the country, and has for over twenty five years. I've seen it over two hundred times myself. What is it about this horrible movie that has made it a cult?
Back to Chapter One
These communities rock! Check them out.
What a ride! Time to go again.
"Relax...it'll only hurt for a minute."
Don't forget to come back next month...In the next installment I'll be having my first sexual experience. Find out how the little Mischief Maker lost his innocence.
