i aint dead yet

fashion editor turned photographer turned gay porn sensation. his two best selling gay-erotic photo books, Testosterone and  Uncensored have gone through numerous printings, and his third book the self titled J/O out this fall through Bruno Gmuender. his work has influened his generation while not abandoning it's past. he is influenced by and compared  to three gay icons/artists, Tom of Finland, Jim French of COLT fame, and Robert Mapplethorpe, often times reinterperating their classic imagery with his own brand of style, trademark lighting, and twisted sense of humor captured in a no nonsense, in your face sex image that leaves nothing to be ashamed of or for.  he depicts the modern gay man in today's society, not behind any closet doors, but in broad daylight, out there ready to pounce at any moment. his work can be seen in OUT, N.Y. Times Magazine, Vibe and/or on the cover off any gay porn dvd, magazine, blog and now, twitter.   

https://twitter.com/joeoppedisano                  

http://iwasalmostanabortion.blogspot.com/


 

lucky2beme

Best Vocal Deep House 2012 Mixed

some days i wake up and i feel like i've failed.

i look down at the calendar, see nothing written down, and then

my head starts to spin, my body starts to ache,

what do i do now, no one hires me, well, 

not the clients i seek,

and i continue my plight down a spiral that makes me feel weak. 

as i try one more time to make calls to someone,

anyone,

i feel misery take over, and then i know that i'm done.

i check facebook, then i twitter,

about nothing really, well, whatever.

and then out of nowhere, i'll flip through the web,

and my eye catch something

i should have missed, but instead,

i stop, and i stare, 

a rush floods my mind back to a time back as i recall being there.

all those faces, all the bodies, the sweat, and the cocks,

some hard without trying, others too nervous to ever be,

and i realize that really,

i am quite lucky.

maybe i can't remember their names, or when it was,

but each photo tells me something that i just can't explain...

i know every second, in almost every case,

was it hot? was it cold?

doesn't matter anyway.

all i know is that these faces that now look back at me,

have become a compilation of what i will one day, be.

everyone of these guys, everyone of the places we shot, 

every detail in the wardrobe, or the cut of their hair reminds me,

i was there.

these boys r like brothers, they helped make me who i am.

and i thank each one of them, and remember just why

i am nothing but, at the end of the day,

a very lucky guy...

 

PROCRASTINATION

procrastinate (prəʊˈkræstɪˌneɪt, prə-)
— vb
	( usually intr ) to put off or defer (an action) until a later time; delay
[C16: from Latin prōcrāstināre to postpone until tomorrow, from pro- 1 + crās tomorrow]

IT WAS SOMETHING HE COULD, AND A LOT OF TIMES DID DO, LITERLLY, WITH HIS EYES CLOSED.  HE HAD MADE IT AN ARTFORM. BUT THERE WERE THINGS TO GET DONE, PEOPLE TO SEE AND CONTACT, A NEW APARTMENT THAT DEPERATLY WANTED TO BE DEORATED, BUT FIRST HAD TO BE UNPACKED...HE COULD DO NOTHING EXCEPT SIT ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER ALL DAY REHASHING GOSIP AND TIDBIT OF USELES INFORMATION THAT HE HAD READ ON PEOPLES PAGES, HE COULD TWEET SOMETHING THAT REALLY WASN'T ABOUT ANYTHING AT ALL, HE COULD POST NEW PICCTURE OR VIEW OTHER PEOPLES PICYURES ON FACEBOOK, MAKE COMMENTS ABOUT WHATEVER, OR...MAYBE, FOR A CHANGE, HE COUL SMOKE SOME WEED AND CHILL...
HMMMMMM...





OR HE COULD WHORE OUT HIS NEW BOOK, AGAIN...

http://www.amazon.com/J-O-Joe-Oppedisano/dp/3867874298

OR HIS CALENDAR...

http://www.brunogmuender.com/products/details/id/6817_J_O_2013/

OK JOE, ENOUGH, TIME TO UNPACK UR SHIT...UGH.

 

CHAPTER NINE-AT LAST

At Last-Etta James

Although the calendar showed as proof it was still summer,

there was a underlying chill in the air that left you with goosebumps,

which was always a tell true sign of fall's fast approach.

not challenging natures warning,

he picked up his pace as he adjusted the lapels on his jacket more tightly around his neck.

he was almost there when he looked up and for the first time in months

began to notice just how beautiful his surroundings were.

the homes which stood tall, side by side,
were ornate stone, yellow or deep red brick built sturdily in the early 20's
when this town reigned with influence and prestige
before the crash destroyed it's chances
and left it a virtual ghost town for over a decade.

each residence had a slightly different influence from the next.

there were classic victorian elements to them all, giving them

a majestic and old world feeling reminisent of close families, tight knit bonds
and a sense of secureness that made him yearn for his long lost youth.

turning onto his block, he slowed down his pace and observed the fortress-like brownstones
on the tall maple tree lined block.

directly across the street stood an impressive gothic church with bell towers and a manicured park.
four latin men sat at a folding table in mismatched folding chairs at the curb
argueing over a neighborhood game of dominos that had probably been ongoing for decades.

he breathed a deep breath inhaling the brisk evening air,
sending a chill up his spine and a slight tingle which connected deep into his soul.

As he was only steps from his doorway,

he smelled the sweet smell of the grape vines that wofted in the breeze,

their bases twisted up a trellis and cascaded over his head and up he brick to the third story,

creating a quite path that gave it great charm and privacy.

the wrought iron gate that opened up onto the front door was open, as he rarely locked it,

and there, laying in the middle of the foyer was his faithful dog Buddy,

his head lay supported on his spread paws, eyes opened, and a crooked smile forming on his mouth.

when he caught sight of him, he jumped up on all fours and pleasantly barked his excitement.

it was sweet, it was simple, it felt right, it felt secure, it was mature, it was sane,

it was his, it was home.

That night, as they lay side by side in bed,

there was an unspoken yet completely understood sense in both their not to long ago troubled minds that they had safely left their tumultuous past far behind.

now they could rest without worry, sleep soundly and be assured an even better tomorrow.

.

Ten and a half hours later,

as the church bell chimed noon, in each others arms they awoke.

he shook his head, looked around, paniced slightly then smiled when he realized that

this wasn't a dream...
after all he had been through,
after what he had seen,
after years of feeling like an outsider,
he felt secure in the knowledge that the demons that taunted him him for years were now gone.
at last he was safe, had survived, and had grown.
he had fought hard and had conqured each one face to face, eye to eye, inch by inch.
he had traveled the distance, over mountains, crossing seas,
but that was now just part of his long history,
it was finally over,
he was home.





http://www.beautifulmag.com/beautiful/2009/03/joe-oppedisanos-renaissance.html