the swimming pool diaries

dear reader,you may remember last year i ran a bunch of photos up on the dollynet of me showing off in my y-fronts.

it appalled the worst, and entertained the best of you,

so here’s is a continuation/variation on that same marvellous theme.

 

what happens is i go out to the desert during the cheaper season when it’s just too hot for most folk.

i do this cause once it gets dark,the heat is exquisite.

instead of a merciless sun burning down on you from above,

the heat absorbed into the ground during the day, rises up softly from below,rendering the bone dry evenings pure heaven,

so you can sit around in this 90/100 degree heat outside during the dead of night without getting burnt to a cinder..

to make this time as affordable as possible,i don’t stay in a hotel.

i rent an apartment,but the buildings are deserted and rather spooky.

the spookiness is heightened by everything being super tidy,and it’s as if the human race has suddenly left for another planet,without anyone knowing why.

in the apartment complex i saw only one other chap..

he’s a ghostwriter,but i only know this cause he came out to sit with me in the bubbly hot tub one evening to find out who i was.

it must be such a strange profession writing a book that will have some celebrity name on it instead of your own..

he told me he didn’t mind…

he said he just wanted the juicy fee for writing it,and that fame is for amateurs,which is possibly as modern as it gets….

he works indoors everyday…just typing away in his air conditioned container…

we avoided each other like the plague,and in my mind i nick named him ‘eleanor rigby’

 

i’m well aware these photographs are narcissus drowning in his own reflection,

but i don’t care.

i get a mighty kick from tearing my kit off,and when visitors call,i’m usually naked with nothing on except for boots complimented by classic 1950’s style jockey underwear.

in the centre of the tiny town there’s one of those gay stores that sells that comical combination of greetings cards…arse lubricant..and miles and miles of swimwear.

sometimes it’s open well past dark,but the town would be real quiet…

so me and a fun loving friend would go in, and he’d encourage me to try on all this swimwear…

once i get into the swing of things,i kind of gradually stop changing in the cubicles,and end up trying the gear on right there on the shop floor..

the bored shop assistant doesn’t seem to mind…he actually smiles and gives the thumbs up…

but i had to stop doing this, cause at the end of these sessions one feels obliged to buy yet more swimwear…

and really dear reader,how much swimwear can an idiot like me afford or need.

i really liked these yellow trunks though…they’re so jolly.

this little prank of mine will have to stop soon..

i’m 54…the body is beginning to fall away.very soon i’ll have to learn some sort of restraint for old age.

 

next year as a grand finale , i’m thinking of having one of my chicken and drumstick parties,

where everyone has to strip to their boots and pants,eat chicken drumsticks along with tequila shots…

of course wimmin will be welcome as long as they’re stripped down to their brassieres and panties for bouts of safe wrestling with each other or their men.

you have to be at least fifty years of age for admission,and be able to hold your liqeur…

in fact the older the better..that way i look younger.

no class A heavy drugs permitted.

i’ll be the referee,cause i’m no good at wrestling or boxing.

i did once join a boxing club when i lived in new york city, cause i thought it would be horny..

they made me do a load of boring aerobic exercise for weeks before letting me in the ring,

and then when the big day came,they paired me off  with a lean scrappy lesbian,cause she was the only person of similar body weight, who then proceeded to knock seven shades of shit out of me…

i never went back…

so yeah..i’m the referee.

 

now back in england, it’s probably time to wear clothes again,

and being a child of the 1960’s,i have decided to feature corduroy.

i love those short levi cord jackets,

… at the end of the sequence of photos are my new electric blue levi corduroy 501’s…

aren’t they fantastic?!

i will wear them round the house in 2014, all year long.

here’s hoping these photos and mitherings find you in good humour…

all my loving

mary mary..of the extremely contrary.