Franco's, Parktown North

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Service: * * * *
Food: * * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * *

M and I are having a date. I've ordered lamb shank, and she's ordered the butternut pasta shell thingy. I've had that several times at Franco's, and I simply have to recommend it as a restaurant dish to kill for. My lamb shank is great. Her pasta is great.

She's keen to hear about my date with L earlier, so I give her some juicy details.

M knows that I'm dating other women, and, for now, isn't too worried about it. She knows that J and I are shagging, and that's also fine for her. "As long as she knows about me," she says.

"I've told J that I'm shagging other women, and she's cool with it," I say.

"Roy," she says, "I have this horrible feeling that you're going to break my heart."

"Why?"

"I think I'm going to like you more than I should, and I'm going to fall in love with you, and it's all going to end in tears."

"Well, let's take things slowly," I say.

"Roy," she says, "have you considered that this multiple dating and polyamory and shagging several girls might actually be your way of not engaging, of keeping distance, of protecting yourself?"

"Yeah," I say. "I have considered that. And I think it's true. I think I'm very reluctant to fall in love again. Last time I fell in love was with Jacqui. And I got that totally wrong, as it turns out. And I'm still not over her. A year later."

"Tell me what went wrong between you and Jacqui," she says.

So I tell her my version of events, and as I hear myself talk, it's like I can't believe that Jacqui broke up with me. And I so wish she hadn't.

So right now, multiple light affections with heavy petting and other benefits is what's working for me.

The waiter arrives. "Would you like to see the dessert menu?"

M and I give each other a lascivious look. "No thanks," I say.

And we pay the bill, and M and I go to my skanky li'l red sports car parked out in a dark and deserted Tyrone Avenue, and we steam the windows up and do dessert in the car.

Doppio Zero, Greenside

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Service: * * *
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * *

L and I are meeting for the first time. She's a babe from the internet dating site. In some of our emails, she's expressed a specific anxiety about meeting with men. She's told me that she's a bit worried about something, based on an extremely unpleasant experience she had with a dude a coupla months ago.

I pressed her for details, wondering if he was a molestation expert, or if he tried to force her to have sex with his automatic pistol.

Nothing like that, as it turns out. The dude has an exceptionally tiny dick, she says.

"Well, what's tiny?" I asked in an email. "I mean, was he TINY, or do you require an ENORMOUS dick?" I continued, in the email to suggest this. "Why don't we meet, and before we even speak to each other, we go straight to the toilet, you unzip me, and give me a blow job, and then, if my dick's too small for you, you just walk away and the date's over?"

She replied, "I'm not that kind of girl!!!!!!"

Which is when I pointed out to her that it was an odd point of discussion, and that maybe she's concentrating on the wrong things.

Well, here she is, in front of me, and she's gorgeous. And she's not limping or anything, so I'm assuming it's not ENORMOUS equipment that she requires, so I'm sure I'm vaguely adequate. Even if I'm more on the moderate side of the scale.

I hold up a sugar packet, one of the long, cylindrical ones, not the flat, rectangular ones. I say, "Was he THIS big?"

She blushes like crazy. A long silence. Then she says, "He was smaller than that. And impotent." And then she introduces herself. And I introduce myself. And, thank god, I'm bigger than a sugar packet. Phshew. So I've maybe got a chance with her.

But I must say, I'm a tad confused about why on earth a girl like her has agreed to come on a date with a guy like me. She's read my blog. She knows that I'm a naughty fellow. She knows that I'm a serial dater. She knows that I'm shagging at least one woman. She knows that I'm into BDSM.

"You're probably thinking I'm quite conservative," she says to me at some point during brunch.

I think about that. "Not exactly conservative," I say. "More that you're curious about the world, that you're open to things, but that you've had a limited perspective, and now you're open to more. It seems to me you're learning things about yourself that you didn't know."

"Not really," she says. "I know myself well."

So I'm not reallllllly sure whether or not she's conservative. In her profile, she mentioned being Christian, and going to church weekly.

Which doesn't bother me, entirely. But it does sort of raise a flag. And the flag has a little thing on it which says, "Uh... is Roy REALLLY suitable for you?"

The manageress strolls up to our table, looking very guilty. "Can I ask you a favour?" she says, into a kinda ingratiating small-girl way. "Would you mind if I bring you your bill, or move you to a smaller table for two?"

We've been here for about two hours. We've both had breakfasts. We've both had about three cups of coffee. We've had cake. And we're not actually finished.

I say to the manageress, "Actually, I DO mind. Firstly, we're paying customers. And secondly, I'm a regular here. We're not going to move."

She mouths an apology, and moves off.

I've enjoyed our date. And she's laughed quite a bit, and finds me funny. So that's quite encouraging. So maybe we'll have a second date. And maybe I'll get to find out about her non-conservative side.

The Codfather, Morningside

Monday, April 25, 2005

Service: * * *
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * * 1/2
Babe Count: * *

I've met Nick early. Because of the ka huna course I went on, I've got two matches I need to catch up on. One is with Nick, the other with Demetri. He's a really cool guy, Nick is. Highly successful in the cellphone industry.

And a fine backgammon player.

Which is why I'm very happy to be 9--4 ahead by the time Gary -- my official opponent for the night -- arrives. So Nick and I agree to meet early next week, and finish our match. We've both ordered prego rolls from one of the other restaurants on the premises. Mine's kinda all right. The roll is VERY soggy. But the potato chips are outstanding. Worth ordering all on their own.

I'm feeling on top of the world.

Earlier this afternoon I went off to S's place. She's a professional ka huna masseur. Also trained with Anthea, but she's done levels three and four, which puts her way up there in terms of skill and ability. She has a morning job, running her own personnel business, and she gives between three and four massages a week. Similar to what I'm aiming at, actually.

We're doing a swap. I'm massaging her this afternoon, and she's giving me one in two weeks time, just before I fly off to London. (I've been invited to talk about Barefoot Press and alternative poetry distribution at an international literary conference.)

This time, I'm MUCH more confident. Yesterday's massage was amazing to give. And J's feedback about the arms was very useful. Today, I'm totally confident, and not even slightly hesitant. S and I are NOT lovers, so I'm not worried at all about me coming across as some kinda pervert. So the massage goes astoundingly.

When we've finished, I ask for feedback. She tells me that I'm a total natural, that it feels to her as though I was born to this. She mentions that when I oiled up her arms, I could have been a tiny bit more delicate. But on the whole, nothing to complain about. Welcome to the ranks of ka huna masseurs.

Man. This is cool for me. It feels like another chapter of my life has started.

And then, back at The Codfather, Gary proceeds to demolish me 21--16. Although I have to admit that I played some mystifyingly crazy moves, so I kinda deserved my defeat. But who cares? It's only backgammon. Ka huna awaits me. And I've got a swap arranged with N on Saturday morning. Yay!!!!

J's place, Somewhere Northwest of Joburg

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Service: * * * * *
Food: * * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * *

I'm at J's place. She was on the ka huna massage training retreat with me, and we're doing a massage swap. The idea is that people who were on the course should stay in touch with each other and do swaps like this. It's not good just GIVING massages to clients. Because only giving lets you run the risk of getting out of touch with stuff you might have forgotten.

This is the first massage I'm giving since I did my training, and I'm a bit nervous. But I've chosen amazing music. I'm starting of with Peter Gabriel's PLUS FROM US.

And I've got my sacred objects with me to put under her massage table. And I'm confident. So she receives first, and I'll get a ka huna massage from her after lunch.

I do my flying dance over her for a couple of minutes, and I feel the mana power building up, and any nervousness has long disappeared. I oil up my arms, and start putting oil on her. Legs first. Then back. Then arms.

I say my invocation, asking the universe for white light, healing, and guidance. And I start in on the massage.

People have asked me to describe what makes the ka huna massage different from all other massages. I'm not sure it's possible to answer, except to say vague things like, "It feels like you're being enveloped by loving touch," or, "It's very sensual without being sexual," or, "We use the entire arm to massage with, not just the hands," or, "Ka huna massage is very mystical as well as physical, so there's a large healing component to it."

None of these statements are accurate. And none of them convey the experience. What I CAN say is that when I experienced my first ka huna massage, I knew that I wouldn't want any other kinds of massage. And I've heard that same statement from several other people.

The ka huna massage is very instinctive. There are some basic strokes, and something like a routine. But it's flexible. Roughly, we work on the back of the person's body for an hour. Then they turn around, and we work on the front of their body, and their face, for a half hour.

Working on J's back, I'm totally in the flow. It's an incredible massage to do, because the entire thing is a dance. My body is in motion all the time. On the retreat, my back took quite a lot of flack, getting really sore after a little while. But today, I'm not feeling any pain. Which is quite odd, cos J's massage table is much lower than the ones we learned on.

I finish the back of her body, and hold the sarong up so she can turn over. I change the music to something softer, more of the water element. (The back of the body is of the fire element, so the music is quicker, harder.) For the front, I've chosen the soundtrack to Kristof Kieslowski's THE DOUBLE LIFE OF VERONIQUE, one of my favourite films. The soundtrack is sublime, haunting, touching, delicate. I love it.

I want to make it clear that there is nothing sexual about this massage. At all times, private parts are covered by a sarong, folded up in a near origami rectangle. Breasts are visible, but there is no nipple contact.

I oil J up, and start the massage. I'm less confident about doing the front. For one, I'm deeply aware of myself as a sexual being, and also of having a bit of a reputation as a rake. So I'm ultra respectful of a woman's front, and I don't want to make any mistakes. I don't want to do anything that could be construed as sexual. So maybe I'm being a little hesitant on J.

Also, J and I have become lovers. So I'm aware of wanting to maintain a professional distance, as if she were a client I were massaging. (And yeah... she's aware of the fact that I'm dating other women, and that I'm having sex with some of them.)

But her eyes remain closed, and the music takes me, and suddenly I'm not thinking, and the shaman in me is alive and in touch, and I'm flowing. It's a strange observation for me to make... I feel more comfortable in the gentle, water element than I do in the fire element. This is odd for me, cos I'm very much a fiery sort of dude. I'm sometimes obnoxious, and often quite hard. But here, in this setting, in touch with the shamanic side of me, I find that I'm very much at home with my water side. Wow!

I'm pretty certain I've covered most of J's front. So I move onto her face, and do an amazing rolling wrist move over her cheeks. I observed Anthea doing it, and noticed that most of the other people on the training didn't get that. But I'm pretty good with mechanical stuff, so I got it easily. I do that a good few times for J, and then the music starts winding down, and I know the time is almost up.

I do my closing off ritual, cover J with a sarong, and I offer her some water. She beams at me. "Wow!" She gets up, drinks from the glass I'd filled before starting the massage, and thanks me. "That was a brilliant massage," she says.

"Thanks," I say. "But I need feedback. Was there anything I can do to improve?"

"It was great," she says.

"Oh, it can't have been THAT great," I say. "I'm just a beginner. Are you saying there's NOTHING I can do to improve????"

"Well," she says, "when you were working on my front, I noticed that you didn't work on my arms. Did you run out of time?"

Aaaaargh!!!! Her arms!!!! I did her arms when I was working on her back, but I forgot about them when I was doing her front! Damn! Damn damn damn! I KNEW there was something!

Not that I'm coming down on myself. It's just that I really want to be excellent at this.

"Thanks. I totally forgot about your arms," I tell her. "Those were my weakness on the course. That's useful to me."

I ask her about the pressure of my stroke, about whether or not I'd hurt her in any way, about whether or not she felt that I'd been respectful of her privacy. All was well, she assures me.

So she gets dressed, and we make some food. She's roasting some vegetables lightly in the oven, sprinkled with chili and olive oil. Her brother runs a chees factory, so she puts some fresh feta in near the end, when she adds the cooked pasta I hadn't noticed.

We eat.

My goodness. This chick's a national treasure. Such a simple meal, cooked in less than half an hour. But totallllly delicious. Wow!

And then it's my turn to receive. She's EXCELLENT! I totally love the experience, and I feel pretty zoned out most of the time, not entirely paying attention to what she's doing. Just loving it. (I do notice what she's doing with my arms though. And file this away for when I next give a massage, which will be tomorrow.)

At the end, I realise that the only thing not hugely satisfying for me is that her stroke could be harder. I like very firm contact, and she feels a bit tentative. So in the feedback, I tell her that. And then I show her how I get firm contact without using muscle power. I use my weight and the massage table to get leverage, and avoid using brute arm-power. She tries it on me, and the difference is vast. Next time we swap, I think she'll be perfect.

And then the end of the swap has been reached, and it's time for me to go home. She lives about an hour out of Joburg, so it's a loooooong drive for me. But it's great. I feel highly energised and totally relaxed and mellow all at once.

Now all I need is my own massage bed, and I'll be giving massages to people from my spot.

Doppio Zero, Greenside

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Service: * * * 1/2
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * * 1/2
Babe Count: * * 1/2

Damon and I are having some breakfast. I've just picked him up from his new house in Norwood cos he needs to be at Terraplane at 11am to be in the weirdest tv commercial ever written. I auditioned for one of the parts, and didn't make it. He made the cut.

So in return for the lift, he's buying me breakfast.

"Thanks for getting out of bed for me so early in the morning," he says.

"Uh," I say, "you mean, 'thanks for getting out of bed with a babe for you so early in the morning'."

He says, "What? You were in bed with a babe this morning and got out of bed with her FOR ME???"

"Anything for a friend," I say.

"Oh my god," he says. "I'm shocked. This is unforgivable of me! Why didn't you tell me? I could have made another plan."

Damon's had some good news from the film production company that was considering his script. He's got a greenlight. Damon Berry has a feature movie in pre-production. Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuckin' yay!!!!!! Yay on steroids!!!!!! Yay in a Pope-mobile!!!!!!!!!

We drink a toast, clashing our cappuccino mugs together.

Of course I'll give my lift to my friend the feature-film-in-production-writer. That's better than sex.

The Codfather, Morningside

Monday, April 18, 2005

Service: * * *
Food: * * *
Ambience: * *
Babe Count: * *

The backgammon club is trying out a new venue for winter. Wiesenhof in Killarney has closed down, it appears. And The Fan in Bryanston isn't really suitable for winter play. So we're trying out The Codfather in Morningside.

The difference between this place and other places we've been at is that these guys actively WANT us playing on their premises. We didn't ask them. They asked US. Which makes a great change. It indicates that they value our custom, and might even offer us superior service.

I'm playing Sophia tonight, and I'm a little bit early. I ask a waiter where the backgammon people are. It's encouraging that he knows what I'm talking about. He shows me a flight of stairs, and I ascend.

There's Sophia and Peter and a few other players. They're VERY early. Obviously intent on sampling the place. "Hey Sophia!" I say. She greets me back, just as warmly, a huge smile on her face. "What's happening in the real world?"

She says, "The usual. We're doing Carte Blanche doccies at the moment."

They've cleared out their conference centre for us. Lots of tables specially set. A waiter, Bruce, assigned to us only. Sophia has ordered sushi. So I order some maki rolls for myself.

We start our. I make one or two extremely dimwitted plays, and Sophia punishes me appropriately. But we're remarkably even all the way through the match. Neck on neck, actually. Chasing each other. One taking the lead. Then losing it.

The sushi arrives, and we pause the match to enjoy it. I've ordered the local fish sushi, and it's damn well made. I'm impressed. Sophia spreads a thick layer of wassabi over her maki, and pops it into her mouth.

I say, "Jeepers, Sophia... is this a new form of suicide bombing??? Wassabi head explosions?"

She chews, swallows, and her face DOESN'T go red. No steam comes out of her ears. "I think this wassabi is old," she says. "It doesn't have much bite."

We continue playing, and I go 17--16 up.

I order a Milo. But they don't have Milo. I order a Horlicks. But they don't have Horlicks. "Do you have hot chocolate, Bruce?" They do. He brings it. And it's reallllly weak. Weaker than the wassabi.

Suddenly, I'm sitting with a cube on two, and the dice are all going my way. I decide to play for the gammon, which, if I get it, will win me the match. It's risky, cos if I DON'T gammon her, she could easily turn the tables, and it's quite a volatile position. But the dice gods smile upon me, and I gammon Sophia, and I win the match 21--16. Viva!!!

Just updated the books section of this blog

Just spent a coupla hours migrating my books section to a new blog, SchmucknewsBooks (it's the link labelled "books" in the menu bar).

It's much easier to navigate and update than the old version.

And hopefully, the Amazon revenue I earn will allow me to buy more bookshelves. I have piles and piles of books in my flat. Quite seductive, actually.

I will also be adding new booklists. For instance, I've got a few selected titles on BDSM. I've also got a few on property investing. So hopefully the lists will stay fairly dynamic. Do check out what I've selected from my shelves and lemme know what you think.

And yes... every single book on my various lists IS in my home, and HAS been read by me. And I can tell you that not even 5% of my books will make it to this site. Just too many.

The five-year-old nephew of an ex-girlfriend came to visit me once. When he walked in my front door, he said, "Roy! You live in a library!!!"

"Recent Comments" feature now added

If you scroll down, keeping your eye on the right hand side of this page, you'll get to a newly added feature -- "Recent Comments". It's a hack created by a genius called xtasy from Pakistan. And it really helps people keep track of who's saying what to whom. Enjoy! (If you hover your mouse over the link, it'll tell you the title of the post that the comment is attached to.)

And while I'm here... please respond to the text ads for Adult Friend Finder. Sign up now for a free membership. I earn a coupla cents each time someone does that. One of these days I may even crack the ten dollar mark!!!

Apricot Hill Farm, Honingklip

Thursday, April 7, to Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Service: * * * * *
Food: * * * * *
Ambience: * * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * *

Thanks to the gorgeous and gifted Anthea Hardwick, I am now a level 2 Hawaiian ka huna masseur. These past six days have been an absolutely intense and wonderful set of days. Hardcore physical work, but even more work in the emotional realm.

Just so you know, I'm now as highly qualified in the art of ka huna massage as most masseurs working in salons around the country. As soon as I get a massage table, I'll be offering my services professionally. At first, I'll be scheduling two or three massages a week. Each session is an hour and a half. And in my experience, once you've had a ka huna massage, you won't want any other kind of massage. That's what happened to me.

About five years ago, I visited the Festival of Out of Mind, Body and Soul (okay... private joke... it's actually called the Festival of Body, Mind and Spirit), and Anthea had a stall set up there, with massage beds. And she was offering free sample massages. So I took the bait, got a sarong on, stripped down to nothing BUT the sarong in the middle of this festival, got on the bed, and Kearn Bamber gave me fifteen minutes of the best massage I'd experienced until then. Wow!

But it's more than that. Since I was around 11 years old, I've been mystically inclined, and somewhat psychic. But I'm also a major skeptic. So I tend to buck against New Age stuff. Most practitioners of new age mumbo jumbo realllllly piss me off. Many are well-meaning, and really do have some gifts. But a lot are plain ole charlatans out for a buck.

So I've really spent much of my life resisting being a shaman. I've read tarot since I was a kid. I've channeled my healing abilities by volunteering and training as a crisis counsellor. People tend to come up to me and tell me things they tell noone else.

And then, several years ago, I came across Serge Kahili King's book, URBAN SHAMAN. And when I read it, it was like some sort of homecoming. I identified with all of the mystical practices he talks about. The vision questing. The way he harnesses energy. And I kinda knew that sooner or later I'd have to follow this path.

So here I am, a ka huna masseur, following my mystical path.

The training itself. Wow. Level 1, we worked on the back of the body. A very fiery space to work in. Fast music. Long, hard movements. Really working with energy and verve. That was the first three days. And I've sweated a lot. And I've been massaged right into the leather of the massage table. I am one with the massage table, I tell you! And I've done my fair share of massaging too. Sheesh. And it's VERY high energy work.

Level 2, the next three days, we worked on the front of the body. Much more intuitive, slower, more careful. It's the vulnerable part of the body. And when women are being worked on by men, it can be quite scary for them. So it's very delicate, and totally non-sexual.

So that's me. Much mellower than when I went in. Much more in touch with my shamanic calling. And ready to do swap massages with other ka huna masseurs so I can get some practice in both giving and receiving.

If you know of anyone with a massage table they don't want anymore, please let me know. I need one.

(Oh... the place was self-catering. Which meant that Eduardo, here from Mexico, Anthea's partner, made most of the food. Man, that bloke can cook! Delicious vegetarian stuff. And tons of fruit. And most of the women on the training... total babes. Total.)

(Oh... and why am I not producing a travel dvd right now? Wellllll... the company I was working for kinda didn't really have its act together, and it turned out not to have a business plan, nor startup funding, and was hoping that somehow, sales would materialise out of nowhere and pay salaries at the end of the first month. Which it couldn't do. Since there were no sales. So I'm now prowling for other production work.)