Kyle Phoenix Answers: Have you ever experienced the loss of a job, parent, children, car, home, and finally, freedom from making a poor decision in life?

Yes, my mother died and I went to the beach, for years now. I was just there Tuesday under the moonlight, by myself for dinner. Free.

It was a long, terminal drama of illness and financial meshuggas but then it finally happened. It felt like Christmas morning in the sense that it was years of build up and then you get to the tree and the presents, the climax and it wasn’t all you anticipated, expected.

I thought it was going to be this utter devastation thing. Instead, it was like water ripples on a pond.

I spent the spring and summer doing a job at a sports stadium that I took just to get out of the house as I waited for school to restart. I basically used the paycheck to eat nice meals and go to the beach as baseball and soccer games are on uneven schedules. 1 game one week, 5 the next, 2 the following—-and I only worked game days.

I’ve often picked up part-time jobs in odd industries because like an extended journalistic investigation, I like to try things out. The restaurant manager, security, Wal-Mart, soup kitchen helper, volunteer, Habitat for Humanity—-I like to go places for money or not, and do something, somewhere where no one knows me for while. I imagine my funeral will be a huge banquet hall full of diverse people in language and color and body and spirit who will marvel at—-”You knew Kyle? How did you know him? He did what?” I love being, my being, in so many places that are unknown to the other, diverse from my work, my degrees, my past.

Then I spent literally months at the beach. I spent so long at the beach that I considered creating a locker business but instead followed a Moroccan teacher's suggestion (if you’re cool and smile, you meet some pretty nice people at the beach—-it’s a less intense, diverse space) I’d met there and buried my comforter, books and eventually snacks two feet down. I also learned how to buy a greater comforter at Goodwill and keep it at the beach. I just laid there in my micro red shorts and read and wrote and slept.

Friends dropped off like flaked skin. One saw me coming off the train, gave me a ride uptown and in the course of my relating oh, yeah, she died…I watched him vanish in front of me, in his car. He even pointedly repeated my phone number, I’ve had the same one for 17 years and that he would call me. That was 3 years ago. Silencio.,

Another friend who’d really been a rock for two years, who’d tracked me down from a cross the country beforehand, who had a mother in the same situation but not as ill, reached me one day, no argument, no drama, we couldn’t be friends anymore. i had suspected for awhile that he was going through something he was keeping secret and being cross country it’s difficult to see or confront. But I looked at the text and felt….nothing. Just deleted him and blocked his number.

Several students that I had mentored for years….betrayed me personally. It’s a long tangled tale. But when there was nothing to take from them, nothing for me to give because I was wrapped up in the details of death and mourning they lashed out. So I had to remove myself from them. They hadn’t accomplished the intended schooling goals.

Another friend of 7 years had been getting snarkier and snarkier, lashing out, being abusive. She had issues with death and though with everyone I tried to minimize how much I talked about the terminal time—-eventually you get worn out repeating the details of someone dying slowly so I was far more interested in other things, newer things, different things—-I had to let her go.

Family members freaked out over money, inheritance, emotions, drama. Death is something we should plan for so that all details are settled, all that is left are the emotional grievings because when it’s not planned, it’s a mess. My holiday card list became much lighter but curiously they came closer to me, by my insistence towards death, and then faded back to our non-existent relationships afterward.

From February to about November this all happened and as always I sat in meditation and had a conversation, an ongoing with God, with the myths and spirits and pixies and sprites and Nature and trees. Really got the Congress of reality in on this.

First I thanked them. I always thank the wind and the rain in the midst of a hurricane. Because it’s just here to take me to the new point.

Then I prayed into the question: Show what this is for? Tell me what this is to be.

That’s a hard prayer because it comes fast. The more you pray it, the faster it comes. And I’ve been praying to be told, shown for decades now about everything from sex to shoes to symbols to signs.

In Toni Morrison’s Beloved Paul D asks Sethe how Baby Suggs passed and she says like cream.

So I thought on that, prayed on that. My mother hadn’t quite passed like cream but the death took all the spoiled milk with it.

Suddenly, I was free. I was free. No more entanglements, no more co-dependent friends, no more people I didn’t want to be around. I stayed in a friend's giant house for a week and realized she was the only person who knew where I was. She was upstairs. I chatted up an Oscar winner’s daughter that she knew. Someone kind of like James Bond and his wife served me dinner.

All the folk I thought, I needed, wanted, were gone and all these other people, my 2nd and 3rd circle of friends and acquaintances rushed in and filled up small spaces.

They were all gone through, the burrs and bumps and bitches and bastards and fools and friends. My mother, one of the biggest stones in the soup, took them with her. It was like she died on her own terms, that I gave her what she wanted to come back to NY and for that, her passing to me, her only child, was like cream. A cream that flushed so many folk away.

The circle is small now. Even lovers aren’t as….needed in the same way. I’m present all the time. I’m immersed like seaweed in the ocean in my Art. It’s all I am interested in. I have no space for people, folks, issues, dramas. I went to a seminar recently and they kept encouraging me to speak on the panel, to question the panel. I liked the chicken and kept it moving. I’ve bumped into one or two folk, smiled and kept it moving. I no longer share, overshare, listen too long. My Art calls like a siren.

I know, logically, personally and even in my plans and goals that it won’t be like this forever. Not even for a full decade. Teaching means you care, you bond, you invest in others but like Jay Z suggests, I hold back 2 inches now. I don’t ask too many questions of folk because I don’t want too much talking around me.

Oooh, I cook some good food. I started exercising more because I’ve been cooking up some jamming food.

I write I TV produce, I business manage, I do my Art and for the first time in decades, because of my mother’s death, I feel totally, happily, contentedly, free.

Yeah, it surprised me too.

Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com#KylePhoenix

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Kyle Phoenix Answers: In 1980 a wealthy former friend bought a New York City Housing Authority apartment for $300 using false documents. This apartment was meant for purchase by poor people. Considering that was 38 years ago, what should I do?

This sounds impossible but it’s not. This also sounds like the person, is profiting but they aren’t. Anything associated to Welfare, the State, in your life is a form of prison.

My cousin got an apartment this way, the above pic close to the niceness of the living room. $300 a month in maintenance a month. The initial deal, she was on Welfare with two small children, was to get the two bedrooms if she could come up with a down-payment of $300 and a maintenance of $300. So she gathered $600 and bought a co-op 2 bdr, lower east side, 2nd Avenue.

Now from The Housing/Welfare side——they’d tired of the drama and lack of profit of housing Welfare recipients in apartments and paying landlords. Most times it worked out fine but in an overall context, the city, state, federal costs were a pipeline for private landlords. It was essentially bankrupting the City system as there was no profit to Welfare.

Step 1. But now there was a profit to Welfare—-what if Welfare purchased the buildings?

Step 2—what if there were a way to put the property into a person’s name, long-term but control the payments, the form, and the outcome. You already control the form as you’re giving them the $300 a month as say part of their $450 a month cash allotment.

Step 3-Form. There are three forms of residential, personal, real estate. Rent, Own and a Co-op which is a unique form of Ownership. When you outright Own a property, a house, a building, a condo, you own the whole property, materials, matter, land, 100%; when you rent the lease specifies how much of the material, matter, you are paying for only a monthly basis. But a Co-op as a hybrid was designed to allow for people to get in, the building/property was to retain ownership but to spread the risk by assessing the value and like a publicly traded company, selling shares.

So say there are 10 apartments in a building, each apartment could be said to be worth 10% of the total building valuation. Say the building was worth $2 million, then each apartment would be worth $200,000. The value to this creation is that it’s a long-term way of bringing together renters for a longer period of time, it gives the owners—shareholder status and ownership (which means they can sell the equity/property—-though a co-op generally has a Board made up of the building owner and all of the other unit owners that vote on the goings on of the co-op building—-who gets in, valuation, maintenance, etc. ) It’s a form of collective ownership but the true ownership never leaves the Prime Owners hands, he’s renting out divided percentage interests, not ownership in the truest, real estate term.

Step 3-Welfare says what if we become the Prime Owner of buildings? What if we buy buildings? We buy the Buildings then we turn to our recipients and give them “ownership” as co-op shareholders. The way that we do this is we design it exactly like a co-op where they purchase in with a down payment and continue having a payment and maintenance payment.

Step 4—-the magic of ownership as the Prime Owner is that you can designate the value of the apartments. So back to our $2 million dollar building. Instead of saying it’s worth now, you make it worth later. You say to the recipients that you get that $1200, $600 down-payment, $600 maintenance and you own a co-op in NYC, which we will be able to sell to you/transfer to you as complete a done deal in 20 years. The person moves in and the Prime Owner, Welfare, owns the building, puts in the tenants AND provides the payment for the monthly maintenance. It’s a perfect business model cycle where the Owner gets paid because it is paying recipients and the real estate is increasing in value exponentially over time.

Step 5—-Welfare turns to the recipients and says we will award you ownership after a period of time. Now here’s where we get into Social Class and Education. Some of us reading this knew the distinction between a house/condominium and co-op ownership being matter vs shareholder status. ( How many Welfare recipients do you think, like me, we pressed by their real estate mortgage brokering mother on a Spring Break to go to real estate school? I got off the bus, she took me to the school she’d arranged my free class with. Suffice to say, I understand the difference. My cousin did not.)

Step 6—My cousin figures at the end of 20 years she’ll cash out the co-op for the value of the apartment relative to the rising real estate rates in lower Manhattan. Her apartment would be worth upwards of $1-$2 million at the close of the 20-year cycle where Welfare promised ownership.

Step 7—-How My Cousin Fucked Up, Several Times—-she decides Year 16 that she wants to move down South to where more and more of my family have moved from NY. She has her older sister offer to me, to sublet her massive 2 bdr apartment because I’m the only relative up here making $80k a year to be able to afford it easily and I live on the isle of Manhattan and have for years. It took her older sister, her, my mother, a pastor and several friends a year to talk me into it. The basic theme was my cousin needed a fresh life start, she’d put her children into permanent foster care, having given up parental rights to them—-they grew up from 4/5 years old on an orphanage farm in upstate NY. Again, this is how we advance her, get her employed, give her a small income to start out on and the bosom of the family will receive, help, train and uplift her when she gets down South. It was a nice apartment. I relent.

Step 8—my cousin had been in arrears and therefore in Housing Court. The gap in the Welfare Housing system being that older recipients would get the check of $450 themselves and be responsible for transferring the $300 maintenance/rent to the Housing Dept. What could go wrong there? So she’s one of the hundreds, I even had adult students who were bad money managers, behind and Housing takes them to court to take back the unit. She’s able to pull together the cash through the City One Shot Deal—-every 11 months they’ll pay off your arrears. They pay off hers.

Step 9—-I move in. She suddenly decides not to move out a month later, because I’m paying her $650 a month—-she’d misunderstood my 1st low ball offer. I was offering to pay $650 PLUS the $300 maintenance, $950. I was willing to go up to $1200-$1400 a month. Because of Welfare recipients, Social Class and Financial Education point here, tend to lack higher-end math capabilities, she greedily leaps at $650. Which confuses me, until I move in and she decides not to move out. Now it makes sense. She’s getting $650 from me and $300 from Welfare—-to her she’s on easy street. When I handed her the rent and security and she came back several hours later with shopping bags from several cheap stores, I sensed how this would end. By Month 3, I moved out.

She had decided not to move and that she was going to rent out her bedroom space to a lesbian couple and they could “decide” what to do with me. Also, her two criminal sons, teenage drug addicts, were free and she wanted them to live in the living room so that she could be a mother. My replies included: “Mother? They’re 18 and 19?! It’s over. You were never a mother. Look at them.” And to Ellen and Portia deciding my fate?: “Fuck you. Fuck them Sappho's. Fuck your lesbianism. Fuck this bullshit, I told my entire family that you were as dumb as dirt and couldn’t handle this.” Her laughing reply was that she was just going to sell it for $2 million in a couple of years anyway.

I was like she couldn’t reach the second shelf of a bookcase if you gave her four dictionaries and a chair to stand on—-her plan would fall apart. Trust. I moved and threatened to cut off anyone who brought up that 3-month madness.

Step 10—-she ends up in arrears again. But recall One Shot is 11 months, she was now in arrears for two months, $1200 plus charges, $18. (NO she hadn’t been paying with my cash to them either.) She turns to Housing and says it’s Year 17, how about we discount the apartment from my Year 20 ability to sell? They say sure. It’s all agreed and signed. She gets to court. And they ask for the $618. What $618?

17 years ago they valuation was only $600. So it’s a static shareholder value imposed by the Prime Owner…..of $600 on the apartment——an apartment across the street worth $2 million yes, but not these.

Does she have the $618? No? She can then assign the additional $600 nonpayment from her initial $1200. And now she owes them $18 to be square but they’re taking back ownership because she was a shareholder….sort of, at a limited value…and the Board, tenancy issues controlled by the Head of the Board, Welfare, not the other residents, have voted her out.

So who’s in the right and wrong with our Wealthy Owner? Well, the occupant of this Housing co-op does not own the co-op in a true legal way. There are caveats in the initial sale/shareholder documents so that the property can’t be willed or sold beyond the Prime Owners, Welfare’s discretion. Now the one superseding caveat would be children of the initial tenant/owner/recipient—-Parents children lived with them and the children retain the apartment under the original deal. But does it matter? No one living in the apartment can reap the value of the apartment in a refinancing loan, sell it or transfer it to anyone else.

Which is why this person of 38 years has been there for 38 years—-they can’t get out of it other than to leave it. It’s probably a nice size, in an okay part of the city so they keep paying the maintenance (not it’s not called a mortgage payment because the entire set value was paid upfront Year 1) and they have to maintain occupancy there.) Across the street are luxury coops and condos I’m sure worth northwards of $3–5 million so it’s Catch 22 and the building you’re in is treated basically well, but you’re treated like Welfare Recipients, not million dollar property owners. Everything around the person goes up in relative costs, which might not matter but the current occupant of the apartment is generally poor in comparison to where they live. The occupant also can’t flaunt relative wealth because then they could be challenged by Welfare that a certain level of income is supposed to live there. My cousin pushed for the subletting deal with me because she was living on about $200 a month in cash and food stamps for years, working off the books intermittently and tired of it.

Then Welfare realized it could broker it’s Welfare recipients out to the City. They have since divided up what a Welfare’s recipients monthly income is into an hourly wage and have “assignments” that the person is sent out on. Working in City offices, janitorial work, parking cleaning and get this, what my cousin did, home visits to check the tenancy, property and material stuff in a Welfare recipients apartment/co-op. They’ve got them diming on each other!

It looks like a person would be getting over on the System but the System is so bureaucratic that the occupant is in a form of a prison where they have to be careful in ways renters, true co-op owners-shareholders and property owners don’t have to be. Imagine your neighbor feels a certain way about your big screen TV being delivered or Fresh Direct food delivery or that coat they saw you in——they dime on you and a boob like my cousin shows up with paperwork and a digital camera random day to record your stuff—-because your apartment isn’t legally yours—-therefore your civil rights are suspended, like in jail, to have a designated employee catalogue your apartment contents.

Welfare in your life is like being in a form of prison.

Now, I know allllllllllllllllll of this because a few years later, I got got again but this time the apartment tenant-shareholder masqueraded as a real estate broker. I send in my rent on a nice Manhattan 2 bdr, she never pays Welfare, eventually, I get hold of the real rent invoice and see it’s years behind. We all end up in court. The judge rules it a scam but rules that the building Board members were aware of what she was doing and they pro-rate my rent, I’d stopped paying. So I was there for 3 years, never in arrears on my name and given 10 months “free rent” as the payments I’d madewase divided by the original maintenance cost. The only reason this happened was because I held a minor political position, I had a local TV show, I had a quiet lifestyle and professional job and I was willing to blow this all the fuck up on TV and in the Mayor’s face and at Community Board meetings, street corners and across the internet. And it was during the mortgage crisis. Ad the City-Welfare did not want this on the front page how normal people were being kicked out because of such chicanery. I made too much to apply to the building to live there so I opted to move.

And since I was such a calm normal tenant, the only one who spoke English, I wasn’t a problem to the neighbors. Though when I would rent cars and one time pulled up in a brand new Audi with bags and bags from a variety of stores—-I now understand the stares from my neighbors on the stoops. But NYers are such a social class, financial blending and low ball and high shot that it’s hard to really know whose doing what financially, so I didn’t think anything of it.

But now there’s a whole process involved with Welfare checking the residents because so many of their tenants were pulling this subletting scheme, particularly in Manhattan.

Again, meshuggas. My cousin. Bitch ended up leaving with 6 Hefty bags of her stuff, homeless down South, finally validating her crazy to my relatives who didn’t believe me, then back up here and eventually in prison for transporting cocaine in the back of a car to Massachusetts with her lesbian wife-husband, as my mother called it. Oh, how I laughed and cheered. Then I offered to my family to send her a Ziploc bag, full of syrup and $18 with a note that would say—-You know you gonna wash it off. HA!

But wait for it…..Several years later I get off at the wrong stop for a meeting for work and it’s a nice day so I’m walking along in my Emporio Armani suit, Ferragamo shoes and this really, really tall African guy asks me for directions as I’m standing on the corner across from my cousin’s former apartment. I’m giving them to him when this lady barges past us and I briefly thought, she looked like my cousin, same hookerish outfit, crispy fried hair.

A month later her older sister tells me it probably was. After prison she and her wife-husband moved to a shelter—-wait for it—-4 blocks away from her incredible apartment on 2nd Avenue. Yes, I was on a public bus with her sister and yes, I did “cream my knickers”.

Revenge, especially when it’s just by Fate, is orgasmic.

Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com

The Kyle Phoenix Show 

 LIVE STREAMING on MNN.org 1130pm, Spectrum Cable Manhattan, NY 
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Kyle Phoenix Answers: Can people with verified "high IQ" tell us some things they really suck at no matter how hard they try?

I was going to say languages but I really need to be more immersed in them and then I understand better and better.

I’m going to go with certain forms of math. I’m very good at financial math, it’s how I got through math, converting everything to money. I can do big numbers and division and multiplication in my head and I’m shocked and aghast when I see adults stumbling. I can even do probability math in a very high way figuring out winning lottery numbers and combinations.

I have a good spatial understanding, blueprints, floor plans, square footage, geography. But geometry and trigonometry start getting dicey. As does calculus at a certain point. Like things make sense or I can see how A and B combine or become. I can understand the theory but not always the outcome based mechanics. I was actually absent for 80% of the 7th grade, so I expect this gap is a big reason though I recall perking up in 8th grade at Probabilities.

I also don’t manage mundane life well. I’ve often aimed to make lots of money so that i could have money to throw at issues. A job, apartment, shopping, all of that I can do. But I’d prefer not to because I’m butterfingers at the execution. I often think this is what I would seek in a marriage. Or from an Assistant. I’m better at larger and long-term planning or if you said we need this much money by this date. That I can figure out.

I think I also undervalue myself or my capabilities in some ways. I do a lot so it seems like I think a lot of myself, am supremely confident. And it’s not that I lack confidence by I can long term see things so I can reason out will something work or not. That also means I can see all the problems and issues before I even engage them. To stop, slow, handle little bits and pieces is insanity to me. Just not my forte. But when I do start counting the grains of sand, I’m pretty good at it though it’s exhausting.

I have many projects in process—-I think I’m good for getting things 80% done and then I need a rest or I feel like I need more information….and there it sits. Then I’m shocked when I turn back to it and it’s been months since I worked on it. So I work on it some more, feverishly for awhile and it’s still not done (publishable, worth broadcasting, etc.) and it’s changed slightly so now I’m at 85% but it’s not done.

The best thing I’ve found is to have like an agent or manager who points out projects in a consulting format to me, outlines their problems or gives me free reign. Actually that way has been one of the most fulfilling ways of working I’ve found. But to do that front work myself, I can do it but it’s like I’m wearing giant gloves and a blindfold.

Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com

The Kyle Phoenix Show 

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Kyle Phoenix Answers: If time travel is possible, why aren't there people from the future appearing now?

I have two-time travel theories. And you already know one of them.

I think this mofo was a time traveler. Gene Roddenberry, not the Stewart guy who is a doppelganger for a dude who kissed me at a sex party.

I think Star Trek and Star: The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine and Voyager were his history tales. Like if I went back 500 years and stood before the assembled masses as the slave ships./….okay, wait…ratchet that back another 200 years. I then stand in front of Kings and Queens and write tales of General Hospital and Abraham Lincoln and Terminator and Buffy The Vampire Slayer and I sew this tale all up into a neat little serial that kept printing and printing and printing and I became this legend.

Roddenberry is telling us his future from the 2300–2500, meaning he came from maybe 2500. I would submit this is why the films get a little wonky afterward.

So he got here, somehow and needs to make some bread so he starts recounting tales from his past-future.

Why haven’t his people come and?—-I don’t fucking know.

I have a doppelganger Patrick Stewart French kissing tale from when I was a sober stripper who frequented an upscale sex club in Manhattan in a penthouse—-I’m not nerd enough to figure this bs out.

Anywho back to my second theory.

I was watching something about evolution and it talked about that as time goes on, like thousands of years, we’ll get shorter, thinner our eyes bigger and our heads bigger.

I think these mofos are US in the future and we time travel back in ships that we see as UFOs now and we snatch up folk and probe and stuff but maybe we have rules about interference on a big scale.

That’s my theories.

I’m probably right.

Why?

Because it’s just simple enough to be right. People get too complicated in this.

Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com

The Kyle Phoenix Show 

 LIVE STREAMING on MNN.org 1130pm, Spectrum Cable Manhattan, NY 
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Kyle Phoenix Answers: Did (Have) you suggest a business model to a poor person?

Yes, but they never listen but then I think that’s the nature of their created business.

Street vendors. We have a lot of them here in NY. I notice the booksellers—-there’s a huge one up on 72nd Street and Broadway. Thousands of books. They’re also big around Columbia so I see them every good weather day.

I have suggested since they’re all sitting there playing with their smartphones—-inventory all of your books, put them on Amazon. Have them selling around the world as they are potentially selling to passerby. Then just pull them from the table as they sell online.

They stare at me. I stare at them. I sued to make $50,000 a year doing this—-I just never went outside to do anything but mail books off.

But there is a Poverty/Employee mentality. People believe in a system that oppresses them to the point that the System doesn’t have to oppress people anymore, because 90% will kneel without the pressure.

The street vendors generally look like they’re subsisting on minimum wage after personal expenses and inventory expenses. And this is probably because they rely on chance customers, rather than deliberate ones from around the world. I’m beginning to think poverty and mediocrity for some people is a choice from a lack of ability to connect the phone in your hand to the internet—-instead of watching videos and movies and such but not figuring out how does eCommerce work.

Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com

The Kyle Phoenix Show 

 LIVE STREAMING on MNN.org 1130pm, Spectrum Cable Manhattan, NY 
Channel 56 & 1996, also FIOS 34 and RCN 83. 

You can Like & Follow Us on Facebook &Twitter

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Kyle Phoenix Answers: How often do gay men think about sex? Do you guys check out every guy that passes by and wonder if he is gay?

I’m an Alpha, with higher levels of testosterone. I think about fucking. A lot. I’m checking guys out constantly. On the train, sometimes I linger just to see…………the ass shot. Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave.

While I aesthetically dislike the skinny jean, it does help to define the booty. Saggy pants are the bane of my visual existence though. I had a friend who was a crotch watcher, a package viewer, a bulge spectator. That was never my thing. In general, clothed or naked, I’m not a big penis connoisseur. I mean I look but there’s so little you can tell from slacks or jeans. And naked, once you’ve seen 200 or 300 it’s kind of more about the person. and excusing, applauding or complimenting them.

But I find that by my own life, how and why I look falls into differing categories. If I’m in a relationship, it’s like a lot of my sexual energy slowly shifts to focusing on them, with a small portion left over to occasionally notice the odd hottie. But when I’m single I perceive men and sex and sexuality differently. It’s all good and all possible. I don’t think I’m overly sexual by comparison to other men because I’m just generally a bit more socially polite but I am more direct and focused. I’ll go online, to a nightclub, be more social, go out on more dates and divide my attention and energy into dates and sex and be very clear with them which is which.

Most men play these ambiguous games and I’m like do you want to fuck? Does your friend? Do all of your friends?

Because of my work I have fewer insecurities and hang-ups about my sexuality—-it’s never occurred to me to consider my parents or family in relationship to my sexuality, and when they questioned it, I questioned THEIR sexuality—-what are you doing with YOUR crotch? Oh, then how is mine your business?

So I’m comfortable saying I sexualize men and women that fall into what I find attractive. Excessively. I don’t demean nor debase them as I have lots of male friends who do so and I find that distasteful. I would say I look but I don’t have to let friends and the whole world know I just checked someone out. I admire. I don’t ogle. I imagine stuff, yes, but I don’t infringe upon another person’s sexuality——meaning if someone is straight or obviously so—-whatever that means—-in a couple, I don’t sexualize them or hit on them. That’s crass.

But yes, I do play a game in the lobby while waiting and people are coming through the door—-Who would you rather fuck? It’s a vicious game but fun. You find out a lot about yourself when you have to pick one of three people.

I also imagine people smiling to see if that improves their attractiveness.

Oddly enough though I’ve known a lot of strippers, even been one briefly, I don’t find them nor lap dances very arousing. Probably because I consider it false or Omni directed, not personal to me.

I generally decide on a sexual partner after some careful searching around attitudes, safety, etc. and try to have a concentrated, multi-hour sexual time or multiple days with that person in a purely sexual way. In dating, I have time frames around sex and developing intimacy (3–6 months) and it gives both of us time to engage or not to engage without becoming chemically bonded. I also think escorts are an excellent sex outlet for these times, again with the caveat of safety and I’ve engaged them when I was unattached and wanted to find a particular experience with a particular “type”.

I often think, when dealing with depressed older MSM that one of the considerations for their financial planning and retirement should’ve been providing amply for a lover younger than them to give incentive to a relationship or to be able to hire escorts.

Many, many, many men, all ages are so sexually bent up, screwed up, pent up, self destructive, other destructive, that I plan to have resources to meet my companionship or single/sexual needs as I get older and rock on into being a thoroughly smutty old man with skills like a sexual Jedi Master.

Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com

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