John: It’s always great when you blend in with the room’s color scheme. With no face to distract us, the man is saying he is not merely in the room, but of it, as well. He is not anyone; he is simply the man in the room.
And so we are drawn — challenged, really — to find the slightest hint of something more. And there it is, staring us in the face. The man is so obviously proud of his awesome V-shaped torso that he repeats himself in the shape of his tanline. All this he juxtaposes with a clipper ship on the radiator and two framed maps from the Age of Columbus, as if to say Explore me, Adore me. I am yours, the Undiscovered Land!
Thus, he states his claim: he is not a piece of furniture after all. We sense no such pride in the overstuffed couch or the yellowed maps. (The gauzy curtains, on the other hand, do seem a bit flirty and sure of themselves. But are they as shipshape as he; can they match his indomitable, indrawn waste? No, they cannot.)
There is only one focus in this universe of beige. The man in the room, who is so much of the room, has forced us, through a sheer act of glorious pride, to see at last the evergreen forest, and not the obstructing trees.
David: My god, the color scheme here actually evokes the feeling of having and living with hepatitis. This should never of happened. There should be meds to counteract this impulse. Finally, there should be a law to prevent this from ever happening again.
Richard: Dear Editors of BEIGE MAGAZINE:
Enclosed, please find a photo of my living room, which I submit for consideration in your annual “Beige Brawl” decorating contest. As you can see, not only are my walls a perfect shade of off-white, but I’ve also coordinated a bone-toned sofa and some ecru lace window coverings, which my half-blind Belgian aunt Frida tatted herself. For extra points, I covered the radiator in a soft cream, and added some framed, sand-colored maps on the wall. To reassure you that I have employed true beiges throughout, I have placed myself in the center of the photo. You can see, by contrast, that my ass is lily white—a completely different shade than the rest of the room.
I thank you in advance for you consideration of my submission and remain,
Sincerely yours,
Guy Smiley
David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
John Calendo is the Executive Editor of Nightcharm, and a life-long Pop Critic @ Large. His work has appeared in Playboy, Blueboy and boy oh boy everything in between.
Shawn hails from New York and is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Steve is a lost sort of man who zones out, easily, into the foreheads of strangers. He keeps a blog of his drawings here.
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Is it my imagination or is he doing this posing in front of what are essentially open windows? I swear I can see a parking lot in the distance.
Hubris!
Baby, I could only hope those are open windows. With a black bush, if he has one, it would be the perfect back drop for cock and balls….thus not allowing them to fade into the rest of the color scheme. Fabulous, simply fabulous!
nice ass
(the pleather couch needs to go, though.)
This glimpse of one corner of SnowBun’s den of beigeness makes me shudder to think what, besides the black bush and nestled jewels, I would see if I were viewing from the opposite direction. This one corner is a veritable interstate pile-up of divergent decorating themes - Brazilian contempo sofa, nautical ship model, tasteful library maps, and the late Victorian lace sheers. Perhaps we should be thankful our triangulated friend did not try for technicolor and stuck to the beige.
The Nina the Pinta and the Santa Maraghritta.
That’s either Chicago or the Ukraine. It’s always hard to tell.
But Those are some seriously nicotined stained shears if I ever saw them.
Nice lats though. And I like the film of sweat on his back. But judging by the diaper rash and the shears & the time he spends on working his back, I’m guessing he has the angry inch & some rank ball musk. Cuz if a bitch can’t replace grandma’s shears AND she elives in a gym, then you just KNOW, he be stinkin’ down under.
The Nina the Pinta and the Santa Maraghritta.
That’s either Chicago or the Ukraine. It’s always hard to tell.
But Those are some seriously nicotined stained shears if I ever saw them.
Nice lats though. And I like the film of sweat on his back. But judging by the diaper rash and the shears & the time he spends on working his back, I’m guessing he has the angry inch & some rank ball musk. Cuz if a bitch can’t replace grandma’s shears AND she lives in a gym, then you just KNOW, he be stinkin’ down under.
Here in the beigeness of Clark Kent’s apartment, Superman sees a flare in the distance signalling trouble. Ripping off the acoutrements of Clark’s persona, Superman prepares to pounce out the window and rescue [insert damsel's name here]. except he’s forgotten one important detail: his lycra suit is at the drycleaners.
Pleeeeze, put a disclaimer on your website! Viewers made need oxygen! I am LMGDAO and cannot breathe.
“May” have a problem spelling, also.
You guys are on a roll with flesh-colored pallettes. That is, Caucasian flesh-colored pallettes. And Eastern Europe. If this guy isn’t a former gymnast turned girl’s gymnastic coach (named Ivan or Pavel), then I am not a judgemental and frustrated homo (named Ho4show). I’ve always liked that nude fabric often used in ice skating costumes and now I know where it could be put to good use in interior decorating. How about a naked ottoman or some flesh curtains? PS. I think alot of the jaundice is coming from mistakes made in the darkroom. Digital-processing isn’t the norm everywhere, yet.