All We Are

Hey Everyone!

Happy Labor Day weekend.

I was going through some of my past writing, and this piece grabbed me today. All of my pieces are like my children. Little sparks of my soul. And this one was screaming to be heard today.

I believe as gay men, in 2014, we really need to focus on one another’s gifts. Celebrate our inner beauty. And support one another for all that we are.

This is, “All We Are”…

I was a tall, skinny, awkward gay child. I had ears that stuck out funny and a big, Italian nose. To say that I was bullied, harassed, and picked on while growing up would be an understatement.

I’ve struggled a good portion of my life, battling chemical dependency.
I also have a laundry list of other character defects that I deal with on a daily basis. It’s sad to think of how many years I wasted, beating myself up for some of this “stuff”.
Guilt, remorse, self blame.. Drowning in a sea of it all.
I seriously believed that I was uniquely insufficient as a man, because I had all these “issues”.
Self centeredness was really my problem.
I failed to see the big picture.
Sure…Some of my challenges may not parallel yours. But, here’s the big truth:
We are all dealing with “stuff”!
So, where do we go from here?
As gay men, I think we spend far too much time worrying about what the fuck is wrong with ourselves, instead of simply accepting what we have as the whole package.
Sure, there are things that I have going on right now that require immediate attention. Yep. I also possess some less than admirable qualities that need some refining.
But, I’m so done with separating myself into the “Bad Me” and the “Good Me”.
I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for all of these qualities…”Good” and “Bad”
I also don’t think we’d be having so many personal conflicts with one another, as gay men, if we just accepted ourselves for all that we are.
True Story:
I usually go to war with someone who is pulling some shit that I’ve pulled in the past. Especially when it’s shit that I’ve not been willing to address or accept within myself.
What I’m getting at here is:
Can we truly forgive ourselves? Be proud of who we are as gay men? Can we learn to observe our character defects, and address them rationally, instead of hatefully?
I don’t know about you guys, but I didn’t get this emotionally “bent” overnight. It’s obviously gonna take some time to “straighten” out.

“Not Just Another Contender” ~ Review for my latest Naked Kombat scene

I recently shot, what turned out to be, the most primal, aggressive scene of my career. Naked Kombat. for was a completely unscripted wrestling match.  We fought to fuck. I was pushed to the very edge of my physical limitations with this scene, and I conquered!

Here is a review and some shots from the match:



Naked Kombat’s August 13 release features the return of Jimmy “The Bulldozer” Bullet battling hardbodied hunk Nick “The Contender” Capra. Nick instantly sets me firing on all cylinders. Jimmy starts the pre-kombat interviews. This is the point at which the opponent is told to stand in the background silently, letting the fighter in the foreground answer the questions tossed from off camera. I don’t hear a word that Jimmy says because Nick is stealing the scene in an instant. He shifts from foot to foot. He looks down at his smoking hot body, clearly enjoying what he sees. Jimmy is probably trying to sound intimidating (not that I’m listening), but Nick’s perfect response is to roll his eyes and stare at the ceiling a while. Wordlessly, Nick’s body language communicates a well-formed, 3-dimensional character. He’s fucking proud of his tanned, hard body with hairy pecs and fantastic bubble butt, and he’s supremely confident, cocky even, in his chances with pale rider Jimmy. Not even the legendary Rusty Stevens managed to telegraph so completely the fully formed persona of a contemptuous heel before ever opening his mouth or slapping on a hold.


When asked how they prepared for the match in the pre-kombat interviews, most NK pornboys say that they worked on cardio, lifted some weights, had a good breakfast. When it’s Nick’s turn to answer, he says that he worked pre-match preparation with his Jiu-Jitsu trainer. Um, Jimmy?  This is going to be a long day for you.  I had been titillated by Jimmy’s promise that he’d ride Nick like a pony in victory, but I’m not holding my breath now.


I believe Nick’s claim to Jui-Jitsu training. Early on there are several moments where it seems clear that he’s barely restraining himself from delivering what would surely be knock out strikes, managing to stay within the low impact rules of NK. Thus hamstrung, Nick finds Jimmy keeping pace as they initially jockey for position. Jimmy is the first to manage to rip his opponent’s trunks off (which counts for NK points toward final victory). Nick occasionally looks like he’s focused more on form and finesse, which slows down the action. But soon enough, the match belongs entirely to Nick.


Oil. I have a deep, lustful nostalgia for oil wrestling. I wish more contemporary homoerotic wrestling included soaking two hardbodied, fully aroused hunks in baby oil. NK still pull this device out on occasion, and I LOVE the look of these two hunks glistening under the lights. Nick is tanned, with hairy pecs. He’s dark and handsome. He looks like a Tony Soprano henchman who’d model for men’s cologne on the side. Jimmy is pale with a ginger beard and closely cropped dishwater blond hair. He’s long and hot and I’m sure my knees would go weak if he gave me second look across the bar, but damn it all if he doesn’t look merely mortal side by side with badaboom Nick.


As I’ve said many times before, I tend to fast forward through much of the NK sex rounds. But I pushed pause and rewind a lot this time. Nick wins by a landslide. I really was trying to pay attention to the final score, but there was Nick, fully aroused, pumped, and consuming my attention. He quickly grabs Jimmy by the head, forces him to his knees, and makes the loser start sucking his cock. Honestly, watching guys suck cock isn’t nearly as satisfying for me as an OTK backbreaker, for example, but fuck me, Nick is such a work of art I’m pretty entranced by this visual. He’s shaped like a comic book superhero. That glorious ass, narrow waist, and thick pecs cut a gorgeous profile.


My speedometer hits 100 when Nick drags his prey up to his feet and lifts his right hand behind his head. Hungrily, eagerly, Jimmy starts licking Nick’s pit. If it was intended to be humiliating for the loser, Jimmy’s eagerness nips that in the bud. And my full-on identification with Jimmy here makes this a powerfully authentic moment, as he engages in unadulterated muscle worship.


Part of the reason I fast forward through NK sex rounds is that they often read as so entirely scripted, but there’s something about the muscle worship vignette here that sells me hard. Jimmy goes to town with his tongue on Nick’s hot, hairy pecs. The closer he gets to Nick’s nips, the more eager Nick becomes, momentarily flipping the script as the winner commands, with a barest hint of pleading, for Jimmy to suck his nipples. Jimmy obeys, and Nick’s head rolls backward in ecstasy.


Nick is grooving hard on having his nips serviced. He demands that Jimmy bite his nipples. When Jimmy really bears down on the mouthwatering feast, Nick groans. There’s a moment when they both appear transported. They both look like they’re consumed in total ecstasy. Neither pornboy would want to be anywhere else in the world at this moment. I buy it. I buy it. I buy it. What a sell!


Nick insists on Jimmy eating his ass, which again could read as humiliation, but Jimmy is far too into it for that to be the text. And Nick’s ass is just too fucking munchable! 99 times out of a 100, I’d skip rimming, whether it comes to giving, receiving, or watching. But damn it all if this isn’t the 1 in a 100 scene, made so engaging by that super high quality ass and Jimmy’s gasping, voracious enthusiasm.

To watch the trailer for the scene, go to:


Love Isn’t War

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time ruminating over the recent attack that left Christy Mack nearly dead.  To see a young woman, so completely beaten by a man makes me angry, resentful, and ashamed to be a part of the male demographic. Much more, Christy has received so much hate through social media from people saying she deserved this attack, because she was a porn star. It sickens me. No woman EVER “deserves” to be hit by a man.

I wrote a short piece last night, as I always do, when something is rolling over and over in my mind.

You promised her your love, and she gave to you her heart, When did that warrant you tearing her apart? The covenant of love, plagued by your violent slides, The beast that lies inside you, hid beneath your empty eyes; It brings upon a thrill, to posses the throws to kill; Broken, bleeding dying there, you sought more blood to spill. She found the will to live, she found the strength to run, Now she will rise again, like the burning sun

Beneath those empty eyes, a killer lies inside, now he tries in vain to win; a war machine wreathing sin.

Here is the story of what happened to Christy…

“I have no recollection of how many times I was hit, I just know my injuries that resulted from my beating,” Mack said. “My injuries include 18 broken bones around my eyes, my nose is broken in 2 places, I am missing teeth and several more are broken.”

Mack said she can’t chew or see out of her left eye. “My speech is slurred from my swelling and lack of teeth. I have a fractured rib and severely ruptured liver from a kick to my side,” Mack said.

Her leg was so badly injured that she can’t walk and she has “several lesions” from a knife Koppenhaver retrieved from her kitchen, she said.

Mack also said her ex “sawed much of my hair off with this dull knife.”

Mack continued, “He has beaten me many times before, but never this badly. He took my phone and canceled all of my plans for the following week to make sure no one would worry about my whereabouts. He told me he was going to rape me, but was disappointed in himself when he could not get hard.”

Mack then explained how she escaped:

After another hit or two, he left me on the floor bleeding and shaking, holding my side from the pain of a broken rib. He left the room and went to the kitchen where I could hear him ruffling through my drawers. Assuming he was finding a sharper, more stable knife to end my life, I ran out my back door, shutting it behind me so the dogs didn’t run inside to tip him off. I hopped the fence to the golf course behind my house and ran to a neighboring house. Naked and afraid he would catch me, I kept running through the neighborhood knocking on doors. Finally, one answered and I was brought to the hospital and treated for my injuries.




Remembering What Love Is

I wrote this piece, “Remembering What Love Is”, May 7th of this year.  The one year anniversary of Tony’s death. I cannot tell you what it feels like to have lost the love of my life. I can tell you that I write about this experience because I want people who have endured this kind of pain, to know that they’re not alone. And I want those who don’t understand, to know what a beautiful man I was touched by. This man was my world. The only man in my life, thus far, to have touched me so deeply.

On August 4, 2010, Tony and I drove to Santa Barbara to see Stevie Nicks. It was his first Stevie show. I got him right to the stage when she encored with “Edge of Seventeen”, and I snapped a pic of Stevie, just as she was reaching down to grab Tony’s hand. I will never forget the childlike joy on his face when she grabbed him. Coincidentally, this was the first show that Stevie ever performed the piano ballad, “Love Is”. She closed the set with that song. Tony and I held hands, watching her sing this intimate ballad about Love found…and Love lost. So, to answer anyone’s question…My favorite song by Stevie will ALWAYS be “Love Is”. It reflects the love I feel for Tony. Our relationship. And the terrible sadness that I feel to this day, after losing him. This is, “Remembering What Love Is”

Remembering What Love Is

Four years ago, January 28th, 2010….

I went out on a date with a man named Tony Serafini. Soon after that first date, I fell in love.
Hopelessly, passionately, uncontrollably in love. Tony was the most significant, beautiful, kind, infuriating creature I have ever met in my life.
Suffice to say, over the course of 2 1/2 years, Tony became the Beauty to my Beast.
He was refined, poised, soft spoken, kind to everyone he met, and held himself with a level of dignity that I could only hope to one day achieve.
There were so many qualities about Tony that made me love him, and that made me want to grow to be a better man.
Today will always mark the anniversary of not only the day I met my greatest love, but a crucial turning point in my life.
Love is the first night we had dinner together and I had to excuse myself to use the bathroom. I literally went in the stall and prayed to God to calm my fears because you were so beautiful and intimidating to me. 
Our first Valentines Day together downtown. The polaroid we took together at dinner. You holding my hand in “straight” public for the first time. Line dancing together at Mo’s, and  the two of us tripping all over the dance floor because you told me to lead and then you insisted on leading. All those nights you would wait for me to get comfortable in bed with you and then tell me that you wanted dessert. How many times I walked from your apartment to City Deli to get your carrot cake and black and white cookies. I made that walk easily 100 times in 2 1/2 years and I bitched every time, but smiled to myself cuz I loved how happy and content you would look eating your desserts. Love is the big smile that would break out across your face when I called you, “Lil’ Babies”. And you would cry out to me, “Papa!!” All of our trips to Sunset Cliffs, where we sat at the cliff that we called the “Edge of the World”, and shared our Quiznos sandwiches with one another. The way you melted every time I called you my “Sweet Prince”. Love is the way you would sing to me and how much you shined when I praised your beautiful voice. The gut level laughter we shared when you mimicked Ms Shug from the Color Purple. Santa Barbara…The awe you had in your eyes as we drove up the freeway along the cliffs, with the mist coming in off of the ocean. You and me, Standing on the beach, holding hands…staring at the sea. The way you were reduced to childlike giggles when Stevie Nicks grabbed your hands at the Santa Barbara show. You shouted, “I’m never washing my hands again!” Love is, the way you grabbed my hand when Stevie closed the show with her piano ballad, “Love Is”. Our song,  Italian Summer, which we agreed would be our first dance at our wedding, while both our mom’s watched us. Snow ball fights at the top of the mountains, overlooking Palm Springs. You proudly strutting around in underwear that said, ‘Property of Mr Capra”. God, how you loved to be the center of my world! And babe…You always were. Taking you shopping for clothes and how happy you got when I pampered you. I never loved making another man smile, more than I did you. The way you came bounding to my door, unannounced, when I didn’t return your calls cuz I was sick and slept in. You had tears in your eyes, you were so worried. No man had ever been so chivalrous towards me. I cried when I saw how much you cared and loved me. ALL OF OUR DINNERS OUT! God, babe…You and I loved our food!! Laying in bed, holding hands, discussing life, and where we were headed. Mob Wives, Dancing With The Stars, True Blood, Real Housewives of Atlanta, New Jersey, and Beverly Hills, and of course..your favorite…The Vampire Diaries. Me begging you for one more kiss every night and you pushing me away…but always giving in. Lady Gaga twice. Watching you jump up and down with your hand up, fist  in a claw, with all the other “Little Monsters”. Reading, “Journey of Souls” together. Discussing each chapter intimately. We both truly believed in the accounts that were documented in that book, and we had so many amazing discussions about the souls journey after it departs the physical world. Beautiful hotels we stayed at. Laying at the resort pools and lounging together. The many beautiful emails and letters we wrote one another over the years. Watching you dance your ass off at all the pride parties, saturday nights out, and holding you in my arms on the dance floor. Our 2nd Valentines Day…You walked into my apartment and it was covered in rose petals, moon stones, rose quartz, tiger eye, and candles EVERYWHERE. I will never forget the expression of surprise and joy when you said, “You did all this for me???”  
For you…babe. It was easy. It was one of the greatest privileges I ever had, just to make you smile. The sound of your laughter. It echoes through my mind as I write this. Love is, your beautiful monotone voice. The sweet scent of your cologne on your soft skin. The night you told me you were falling in love with me. Sitting in my car. Peter Gabriel’s, “In Your Eyes”, playing on the radio. I melted. I loved you from the day we met. I just never had the courage to say it until that night.
Every man I have ever dated before and after you was living in Nick’s world. You were the first man to bring me out of my world. We shared a world together. Sometimes we clashed. But, you took me so far out of myself, babe. I woke up every morning thinking about what I was going to do to make you smile that day, and went to sleep peacefully when I knew I had succeeded. 
You were the love of my life.
Thank you, my sweet, precious prince. Thank you for blessing me with the most amazing adventure I have ever experienced with another human being.
And thank you, from the bottom of my heart , for teaching me what love truly is.
In loving memory of Anthony Charles Serafini
June 1, 1967 ~ May 7, 2013
Here is the link to the live version of “Love Is.”
Below…Pictures of Tony and I, Aug 4, 2010, at the Stevie show in Santa Barbara. And, the pic I got of Steve, right as she was reaching down to grab Tony’s hand,
Stevie Nicks 8-4-10 001 copy
Stevie Nicks 8-4-10 051


Bad Romance

You danced your asses off to that song several years ago, when Gaga was ruling the pop universe.

But, have you ever experienced the consequences of staying in a bad romance?
Why do we continue to love someone even when we admit it is killing our soul?
Let’s talk about this for a minute…
The general reason we stay in a bad romance is because we have become so co-dependent with our partner that the “We” has become bigger than the “Me”.
Here are several recurring themes I’ve personally experienced or observed in gay relationships gone bad:
“The Anxious and the Ambivalent”
Here are two men. One is madly in love. The other one can’t make up his mind if this is the right relationship for him. He flip flops over the years from “I love you” to “I just don’t know”
The more ambivalent he becomes, the more obsessive, anxious, and needy the other man grows.
Check this out, guys..
If a man you love says he’s not sure if your love is enough for him anymore…It’s time to turn the motherfucking page!
I have been on the receiving end of this mind fucking, and I fell into the typical delusion that it was all my fault.
Have you ever told yourself stuff like:
“If I just love him more, he’ll stay.”
“If I smooth out my abs and tighten my ass, he’ll regain his interest in me sexually.”
“If I change who I am, we’ll be okay.”
I’ve told myself that crazy shit more than once with several guys.
Look..We have all heard that expression:
“Rejection is the greatest aphrodisiac.”
That was clearly written by a motherfucker with low self esteem.
My truth today:
I am capable of giving love and I am worthy of receiving love in return!
If a guy I love can’t make up his mind, and he’s not sure if he is capable of loving me for the man I am right now…I am off this shit!
If I stay, he’ll continue to play head games. And I’ll continue to give my power away.
Tell me you love me. Tell me you’re leaving. Then tell me you love me again.
I’m a human being, not a fucking YoYo.
Guys. Believe it when his love is gone and don’t chase the ghost.
“We’ve been together for so long, I can’t imagine my life without him.”
I know so many gay couples who have been together for multiple years. Even decades.
They have ceased fulfilling one another sexually. They no longer exchange romantic gestures. They are unwilling to communicate with one another on an emotional level.
Some, even deeply resent one another for a multitude of reasons they just can’t get past.
So, they are basically roommates, living under the title of, “partnered”.
Do you believe that because you have invested over a decade (or multiple years) into a relationship that you are no longer capable of standing alone or loving again?
Here’s a fact, guys:
Relationships run their course.
Even after decades.
If you are no longer fulfilling one another sexually. If you are no longer growing with, or learning from one another…The longer you stay with him, the more time that you waste.
You could be sacrificing the opportunity to meet your true soulmate because you have resigned to stay in a bad romance, with all it’s unhealthy familiarity.
There are a ton of other scenarios I could give you. The point I am getting at here is that some of us are dying in our unhealthy relationships because we don’t believe we have any other choice.
You already know deep within your heart if your current relationship is serving you or destroying you.
So, what’s it gonna be?
Continue to stay in a bad romance? Or, give ourselves a chance to stand alone? Draw power from our own personal “fire” again!
Learn to celebrate the beautiful men we all are.
Once we have truly learned to love ourselves as individuals, someone else will as well!

Freedom 2014

Trauma. Pain. Scars. The past.

These are the things that we have been molded by. Enslaved to.

I have, in the past, always hated my birthday. I couldn’t ever really figure out why. Every year, like clockwork, about one week prior to my birthday, I always get a sinking feeling in my heart, and lots of anxiety surrounding my birthday.

I loathed making any plans for it. Inviting people freaked me out. And anyone making a big deal out of my birthday would get me so overwhelmed, I would sometimes be reduced to tears.

It has nothing to do with the aging process. In fact, I turn 40 years old in 30 minutes, and I look and feel better today than I have in years.

So…what is it? Why am I so inclined to feel dismal on what is supposed to be such a happy occasion?

Looking back and taking inventory of all of my birthdays, going back to childhood, I remember something that really affected me. My 11th birthday. It was the last birthday I celebrated while my parents were still married.

Like any child, I was ecstatic. Big birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. Friends all coming. Gifts. Excitement. And happiness. That innocent happiness that only a child has.

I remember skipping down the corridor of my house, expecting my dad to be dressed and waiting with a big smile on his face. He usually would  swing me up in his arms and call me his “little monkey”. But, that wasn’t how I was greeted. Instead, my dad was sitting on the couch, still in his bathrobe, unshowered. I ran to him. “Daddy..why aren’t you dressed? My birthday party is starting soon.” He replied, “I can’t go, son.” It felt like I was being slammed into a wall. I ran to him and jumped in his lap. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Please, daddy. Please come. I don’t want a birthday party without you there!” Tears were already streaming down my face. Just then, I heard my mother’s heals clicking down the corridor towards us. My father said to me, “Your mother doesn’t want me there.” At that moment, my mother appeared in the living room and responded to my father’s remark..”Not this time, Joseph. You’re not using me as an excuse for not showing up.” I pulled away from my father. I ran. I ran as fast as I could. Out the front door.

Emotionally, I never stopped running..for over 25 years.

The moment I realized my father wasn’t coming to my 11th birthday by his own accord, a great darkness shrouded my young, impressionable soul. I believed it was my fault that my dad didn’t want to come to my birthday. I told myself form that young age that I was not lovable. I was a bad child. And I hated myself. I carried those beliefs with me for years. In fact, whenever a person (especially a man I care for) flaked on me, didn’t show up for me, etc…I became angry, resentful, hurt, and self loathing.  I became that 11 year old child, being abandoned by his father all over again.

It got me to thinking…Do we all take unresolved pain and trauma from the past and displace it into other areas of our present day lives?

How does that serve us? It never served me. In fact, I allowed that single incident to mess with many events and occasions in my life…for decades!

My father is dead. That incident is nothing more than a memory. It’s really just a metaphorical photo in a scrap book, in my mind’s eye.

It is my choice today, to either close that metaphorical photo album of sadness and hurt, or strap it to my back and carry it with me everywhere I go. Do I want to be free, or do I wan to continue to suffer from the weight of a memory that darkens my soul?

Today, on my 40th birthday, I will celebrate.

I start my celebration by telling the truth about my past. Allowing myself to be honest and vulnerable. I celebrate by living in the solution. And, I let go of the painful memory of my childhood.

How do I do that?

I write.

Once I’ve written the truth it sits before me. Right there on paper is My soul. My truth. My  covenant to myself.

And once I post this story, it is no longer a painful secret, weighing on my heart. It has been set free.

My birthday wish for all of you, is for you to trace your pain back to its source. Understand that it is not happening to you in the present. And, find a healthy outlet to free yourself from it.

I’ve said this before…this is not a rehearsal. This is life. Let’s not waste it by chaining ourselves to the pain of our past. Let’s go for freedom in 2014.

“Cuz my heart is sick of being in chains…” ~Tori Amos