You’ve seen it; the clouds charge the sky.  They are dark and thick and low; black and grey.  Each mass churns into itself and off the rest.  I wait for it and it comes; a breeze around my body, squeezes my waist, fills me up.  I want that magic and by wanting I take and I let it inside of me – unprotected sex with the wind.  It fills me up.  I am intellect and knowing.  It’s then that the clouds excuse themselves and the sky, bright and blue, welcomes me.  I see him there, staring down, and I stare back.  He sees me as I am – the beauty of a flower’s petals fluttering lightly, the danger of a storm.  You’ve seen it; the magic in eyes the moment between the lightning and the thunder.

I come from California; there the Sun wraps the city in a blanket of heat – an idol in the sky.  Nobody would tell you because nobody knows, but the lord of Los Angeles is the Sun Himself.  Nobody worships the streets or Hollywood or The Coffee Bean or the 405.  People don’t go there for the celebrities, honest.  People don’t move there across the country for the beach itself.  Los Angeles is ruled by the Sun, and he blesses the people with burned flesh and warm faces and shade.  You cannot move to Los Angeles and expect to ever know this as I do, as I have been born in to it and am of Him.  The explosions and gas tumbling millions of miles away is implanted beneath my bones.  I keep it in my heart and when I kiss you, when I look at you, when I’m inside you, when you’re inside me, when we’re fucking, you are the recipient of love fueled by pure fire. I come from California; scratch my skin, feel the flame.

Imagine; I went to the ocean at night. Looked to the black water. Saw the broken reflection of the moon, streaks of cold bright whiteness shifting. Let the smallest of the waves race over my feet, and on contact didn’t feel temperature or wind or sand. Focused instead on the force of its fluidity. Felt instead my body inviting. Each swirl and leap, each wet embrace intoxicating; I have been poisoned. It’s not meant to kill, I can tell. I let it in, and he was there. The insisting waves moved fast around and across me and I saw him. I see him now, and my body is covered in moon kissed tide armor. My skin reflects all light and drowns all sound. I’m out to sea. I see him here. Imagine; come to the ocean at night and find us.

I stand before you awake.

I open my eyes, awake.

My eyes are open, awake.

Photo 2011 JM Darling

]]> http://darlinghouse.net/beta/planb/2011/10/03/anima/feed/ 0 http://darlinghouse.net/beta/planb/2011/10/02/slut-walk-nyc/ http://darlinghouse.net/beta/planb/2011/10/02/slut-walk-nyc/#comments Sun, 02 Oct 2011 19:07:10 +0000 brandon http://darlinghouse.net/beta/planb/?p=157 Continue reading →]]>

Yesterday was the Slut Walk in NYC (or as the autocorrect in my phone reported to my dad, the Slur Walk).  I was out and about passing out some pins on behalf of The Pleasure Chest with my friends and they were a hit.  We passed out pins that said Consent is Sexy, Ethical Slut, and everyones favorite SLUT PRIDE (all caps).

September was a challenging month for me.  Work was intensely busy with the Pleasure Chest’s 40th anniversary celebrations and I got the news that a few of my employees would no longer be in New York.  There are times when I feel that I am always spending my life playing catch up, which is half just the nature of the job and half my fault for involving myself in so many projects.  I just hate not doing anything; especially in New York where there are so many events and causes to participate in.

Within minutes of arriving at Union Square for the Slut Walk I was recognized by the Daily News and asked for an interview, which I thought was pretty neat.  I was recognized by a lot of other people as “Brandon from The Pleasure Chest”, and my friend joked that “of course you’d be famous at the Slut Walk”.  If people knew how boring my life truly was outside of industry related events they would probably be somewhat disappointed in this myth of sexual awesomeness surrounding me.  When I am not working or performing at an event, I am usually just sitting on my roof staring at the sky, watching the sun set.  I am an old woman at heart, and I want to do nothing more than just sit and do NOTHING when I am not booked to be somewhere.  I may as well be a piece of patio furniture on my roof for the amount of time I just sit there being useless.

Right before the Slut Walk I was walking around Union Square and some random person who was unaware of the event asked me why I was all dressed up.  I explained the event and what it was for, and without any prior suggestion that she should relate she said “That’s really a great thing that you’re doing, I was raped when I was twelve and something needs to change.”

The casualness of how she explained the experience to me reminded me of so many other people who have experienced sexual abuse, myself included.  When you are the victim of sexual abuse you feel all the usual things, but there is also a moment for many where you realize you have to make a choice: let it bring you down and forever be mournful of the fact that it happened, or pick yourself up and go on with your life.  I chose the latter, and so did she, and after she took a picture of me with her new iPhone that she confessed she “didn’t know how to use yet”, she smiled at me ever so subtly and said “Thank you for fighting for me.”

It happened and it’s real.

This summer has been incredibly busy for me. I moved into a new apartment and my old POS computer refuses to connect to the wireless router; spoiled by decades of being fed the internet directly into its ass like an information super highway enema. So I apologize for the lack of posting, I promise I’m still alive and working on being sexy.

Speaking of sexy, check out that photo above. That was taken by Travis Williams and I think it is just delicious. He has a beautiful natural eye for space and lines and color. He’s also the only person I know that will get drunk with me on a Monday.

Anyway I’m doing this performance tomorrow for The Chat Lounge. The presentation is the same No Homo presentation that I did for the MOMENTUM conference this past March in DC, except this time I’m not taking myself so seriously. I’m not very good at serious. Serious conversations usually involve words that are more than three syllables long and those words can kiss my very white ass.

Something else that can lick my fanny is sleeping on the floor. For the last two months I have been without a bed. It’s a long story but anyway the point is I’ve been sleeping so horribly that my face and hair on any given morning since the start of July has been somewhat akin to Ms. Bellatrix Lestrange.

“TAKE ME TO STARBUCKS!”

Anyway I encourage you to stop by and enjoy the free food and get ripped at the bar. Some Darling Housers will be there and we will be streaming the performance live here on DarlingHouse.net, so if you can’t make it you can still fap to my hilarity from the comfort of your own home.

Be sexy xox

My process is much like the definition of a Taurus. I don’t enjoy creating things for the sake of creating something. I am really only interested in creating something — be it a piece of art or a performance or whatever — when I feel that it is organic and pure expression.

It’s strange…I don’t feel that I am a creative person, but rather that I possess creativity from time to time. That may sound weird but..I don’t know if I can explain it.

My entire body feels like churning paint on the inside, various shades and textures. My inside writhe and struggle seeking a means to escape and manifest in the form of a creation. It’s not like this all the time; just periodically, randomly. I feel like something takes over my emotions and my thinking, and all I can do is close my eyes and feel what it is wanting to do. Pieces of the puzzle begin to manifest and I do my best to document them either physically or as a mental note. I don’t feel like I am creating when I am in this state, I feel like I am channeling. Giving birth. Possessed.

Anyway, I probably sound crazy, I just wanted to share some notes I’ve made recently, since I am once again brewing. There is a force in me that needs to be manifested someday soon. It’s indulgent and theatrical. It’s sensual and ecstasy embodied.

Ancient.

Bacchus.

Bacchus.

Bacchus.

The photos I received were amazing and varied. I had no idea that I had such fun, creative, and sexellent readers! There was no way I was going to be able to choose from the pictures as they were all so unique and great, so I had to enlist the assistance of my friend Kasey to pick the winners.

Thank you to everyone who submitted, and an extra special thanks to those who enclosed a birthday message to me. Your words touched me internally in a way that I am not accustomed to.  I really appreciate all your continued support and I am honored to be able to give back to you on this very special day. Thank you!

And the winners are…

3rd Place — Winner of the Tenga Egg lot and Sliquid Oceanics: A whole mess o’ hos presenting some drop dead raunchy orgy couture realness!

Good lord boys! Where is your mother!? Is she the one taking the picture? Featured in this photo is a real life gay couple and their best friend moments before they all wore masks of my face and rubbed up against each other aka my ideal date. Thanks fellas, enjoy the Tenga Eggs — and as an added bonus I am sending an extra three bottles of Sliquid Organic Oceanics for everyone involved, including your mother and her camera phone.

2nd Place — Winner of the Tantus B-Bomb vibrating plug and Sliquid Organic Oceanics: BRYCE presenting some coquettish come-hither realness!

When I first saw this picture my heart melted. Then I realized Bryce is not only rocking scruff, multi-colored eye makeup, a pair of cute Aussiebums, and a sweet tribute tattoo, he is also totally stealing my hair style and signature pose! Don’t make me come hunting for you mister; I’d hate to have to scratch that pretty face! And I do scratch, it’s my only means of attack/defense. Enjoy the B-Bomb darling, and remember to think of me when you’re using it!

1st Place — Winner of the NJOY Eleven and a grip of Sliquid lubes: W0LFE presenting some Nightmare on B Street creepy ass realness!

Holy hell! If I go missing tonight someone alert the police to search every boiler room in Bushwick! Though they will probably assume I am at the Boiler Room in the East Village. W0lfe did some spelunking and called upon my love of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies (which I was raised watching, I loves me some Freddy) to turn out some creepily awesome slasher realness! At first I was a little scared, but then decided that I would much rather this guy be on my side than not, so take the 1st place prize and please spare me my life killer!

Congratulations to all the winners, and a big THANK YOU to everyone who entered! Your pictures brought a huge smile to my face and I can’t think of a better birthday gift.

Now I gotta go get my drink on with my friends. Be sexy, y’all! xxo

I announced today on TheINQUEERY.com that I am having a contest for my birthday. April 30th is officially B-DAY. My B-DAY to be exact! And what better way to celebrate than to give away some of the products that I have come to love and admire (especially during the winter cuz honey I am not getting my snow boots on for some booty).

Upon announcing it I was approached by several toy companies that wanted to share in the Brandon B celebration too! Sliquid is upping the ante by contributing my new favorite water-based lubricant, Sliquid Organics Oceanic as well as some other lubes of theirs that are great,  JimmyJane is offering a fantastically strong Form 2 vibrator, and The Pleasure Chest is paying my electric bills and rent so that I can afford to do giveaways such as these. Other prizes include a grip of Tenga Masturbation Eggs, and the B-Bomb buttplug from Tantus — which I am sure was named after me.

The rules for entering the contest are similar to the rules for entering my ass: TELL ME I’M AWESOME, BE FLIRTATIOUS, and BE YOUR FUN SEXY SELF. You can see the details here.

So what are you waiting for? How will you show me you love me…

“What’s up?”

“Nice tats!”

“You’re hot!”

These one-liners put the responsibility for the conversation to go somewhere 100% on my shoulders.  I typically just say thank you if it’s a compliment, otherwise I’ll just ignore the e-mail.  Unless they are abnormally hot, then depending on how much I am procrastinating (NOTE: as I write this entry I am actually procrastinating hard core) I will try to get some sorta banter going.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes things are just weird and make me giggle.

I thought I’d show you what me putting off work looks like.  It’s nothing extremely entertaining or smart, but it’s Sunday and I am hungover so deal with it. Keep reading if you’re interested.

Random Guy: nice tatoos!

Brandon B: Thanks!

RG: what’s up?

BB: Stretching, about to workout.  You?

RG: still in bed!

BB: What color is your bedding?

RG: navy blue

BB: Awesome!

RG: do you have secrets tatoos on ur body?

BB: Yes. In order to find them one must answer a series of riddles — each of which leads you to the next.  Upon answering the final riddle, I require that the participant remove the article of clothing covering said secret tattoo using only their teeth and one chopstick.

RG: what’s a chopstick?

To Shave or Not to Shave?

Once upon a time I told myself that I would never do three things: Work in the food industry, do my own laundry, or become a model.  Modeling was never something that I felt as though I had a natural gift for.  I was trained as a comedian and comedians aren’t usually portrayed in the sexiest of lights, but now I need to find a balance.

I used to be scruffy for a long time, and back in LA that made me edgy, dangerous, and cool.  Then I moved to New York and visited Williamsburg where everyone was scruffy and I just felt like I melted in to my surroundings.  I decided to represent the babyfaces of the world and ditch my scruff to show off my stunning skin, however recently I have been wondering if — for the sake of becoming the sexiest sex bomb possible — I should accept that New Yorker gays prefer the scruffier look and go back to the fuzz face?

Here are some shaved/not-shaved pics of me from the past….watch the video above and examine the pictures closely…any opinions either way?

All photos 2007-2010 Walt Cessna

Clean Shave!

Scruffier!

To see the shots from our first shoot go visit his Tumblr and check out his other amazing shots of other Darling House models.