Shawn: “Jason, Mother is talking to you!” Is this a vivid depiction of nasty-boy passive-aggressiveness directed against the presence of a suffocating mother figure/oppressor? I’m hard-pressed to find any male signfiers amid all the downey, satiny environs of this ersatz womb. Either Mumsy is alive and well, or her phantom has refused to cede control even beyond the grave. Hat boxes, a trunk presumably full of quilts, and embroidered wall hangings are indicative enough of a fussy female dominion, but it’s the robe displayed in an almost frozen, living reverence that’s the real psychological tell. You can really picture it being tried on before the space is defiantly defiled with all the dirty doings Mother Dear abhorred during her earthly reign. “What kind of a girl would want you, you filthy little monster?! I’ll tell you who! A tramp! a tart! A strumpet! A common whore!”
Richard: Wait: Rue McClanahan’s bedroom window overlooks Margot Kidder’s woodpile?
It’s a small world, y’all.
NYCSpencer: I’ve seen quite a few disturbing interiors on here, but this one moves me to write. The juxtaposition of the too-too thin, very flat-footed naked boy with the basement guest/sewing room renders the interior strangely sinister. Notice how sterile the room is. No bedside table. No lamps. The sole artificial light source seems to be the recessed flourescent fixture reflected in the hulking corner cabinet, seemingly filled with hat boxes! And have you ever seen a corner cabinet with coat hooks attached at the sides? They can’t be strong enough to hold up a sling, but maybe some straps around some too-too thin wrists and ankles? That strange sculptural piece under the window… maybe an owl, but quite possibly two scotties kissing? But the kimono clad dress form is the most terrifying. That’s no regular dress form. No indeed; it is some customized affair reflecting some real, hippopotamus-like, kimono-loving red-neck drag queen. And do notice, just beyond the woodpile, the roof of the smokehouse with the oversized smokestack. I’ll bet that’s where “Mrs. Lovett” grinds her meat and bakes her special pies.
David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
Shawn Baker is the Executive-Editor of Nightcharm and hails from New York. He is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
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.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Sean Horlor is happy to no longer be using his judgmental prowess for the forces of darkness. He co-hosts a comedy lifestyle reality TV series called Don't Quit Your Gay Job and runs Up Your Alley.
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Fabulous pshychological implications as described!
An interesting juxtaposition wherein the room is saturated in excessive femme fabric, yet the boy has none covering his body. The chopped tree logs piled against the window definitely say that someone uses an ax. And if the stack is that high off the ground, they may have been sublimating some dirty thoughts into the work.
From Psycho: “I’m not sleepy. Put me in my chair.” “Yes, mother.” “Now, tie me to the window. I want to keep my eyes on you… make sure you don’t start playing with filthy girls again.” “Yes, mother.” “Good… Well? What are you gawking at? Go downstairs and open the motel! What do you expect us to live on, hope?!” “No, mother.” “Remember Norman, I’m the only one who loves you. Only your mother truly loves you.”
He’s adorable. I’d make nice with mommy dearest to tap that. The interior is very unsettling but when you’re horny you overlook that. It’s only later, when the restraining orders are filed, that you wish you’d paid more attention.
Was the woodshed already being used by someone else? What other cause could there possibly be to use this sewing spare room instead?
More on point, how can you do romantic floral prints, pale pink and gold hatboxes and leave those walls white? I guess a muted pink or pale mauve would clash badly with that 1980’s teal green carpeting, but white? White?
And while our stud (who must be a power bottom, because he looks like an angry, commanding top) has the most beautiful porcelain skin, he’s far too white to be in that six-shades-of-white room. If ever a room screamed out for a brass bed, this is it (and possibly a wooden paddle to match the blanket chest and bring out a little blush of pink in that hot, white ass).
A triangle room? gulp
jeffy couldn’t really understand why he would never be welcome in the Emily Dickinson Museum again.
Is that a large, wooden toy owl peeking over the head of the bed under the window? Or is it the base of some cutesy guillotine where the condemned placed his head? Perhaps it’s a sex toy created by a naive artist who wanted to combine his love of S & M with “The Wind and the Willows.”
You focus, everything goes straight to the “bung hole”. Great camera angle!
Cinderella Lives! And she’s a MAN, baby!
I love the rebelliously lewd pose amidst all that oppressive mommery. “Yes, mother. I see your silk kimono and I raise you my A-hole!” Whether that’s his mother’s bedroom or his mother’s sewing room with a daybed or his own attic bedroom which he’s forced to share with all that paraphernalia or if he himself is indeed the budding tailor in question, the juxtaposition of elements v. occupant is absolutely riveting. Kudos, however, to the angled bed solution! So rarely utilized and such an eye-pleasing space-saver. In fact, the entire room is a model of restrained French Country tastefulness which could easily be the work of an inspired yet repressed Middle American Gay Boy or the living, breathing taproot of his homosexuality – his Mom. In either case – “Project Runway” Look Out!
P. S., Mom might want to think about laying off the Cheetos. It’s just a suggestion.
This is the creepiest pic yet on this site. A Kubrickian amalgam of “Psycho” and “Silence of the Lambs”. I just know the walls are pristine white to emphasize the red of the blood that will soon be splashing willynilly all over them. Or, perhaps, the doors of the cabinet will open by themselves and the inevitable blood will pour out of the hat boxes.
Does anyone else see a creepy old man’s face with rosacea in that there woodpile?
Sadly, this florescent-lit basement guest bedroom/sewing room was probably the one room in the house with bright enough lighting so he wouldn’t need a flash which would bleach out his otherwise lovely ass. The mostly monochromatic theme helps to keep all that awful lighting bright enough to provide a lovely contrast with our boy’s skin. A shame mama doesn’t have some indirect lighting in the room, or some actual color besides that hideous carpet, but it’s the closest to a blank canvas we’ve had for a good ass photo.
“Jesus, I thought they’d never leave for church. What?! No, Raoul, I do not think we need more light. Contrast? What the fuck are we talking about composition for? Do you think I can hold this position forever? Just take the fucking picture, Raoul, my arm is killing me. What? goddamn you’re making me angry. Just take the shot and then get over here and fuck me, HARD.”
DAYUM!!! OK, as much as I would love to compose an entire sonet to the increadible beauty and fuckability that is our subject’s smooth, white ass, I shall instead focus on the much more thematically appropriate room decore. Ahem: It would appear from the silk kimono that even Madamme Butterfly herself….Oh who the fuck am I kidding??? Someone get me that kid’s number, PLEEEEZE!!!!!
Having been raised in this room all his life he sees nothing wrong with the decor that is more appropriate to Nana’s retirement home.
But do we care?
i think this would be a great place for me to test my theory that all rooms are butch when the lights are out.
Ericthewriter, you have summed it up beautifully!
Just don’t go into the basement or take a shower in this residence.
Is anyone else catching a wafting effluvia of Lavender Sachets and Gold Bond Powder….or is it just me?
Yes, Jesry, there is an ogre.
What a romantic room. So soft.
Witness the rise and fall of Shabby Chic.
Its Bed Bath and Beyomd meets Folsom Market.
The feng shui of this room is all wrong. The bed on an angle. Come on. That’s crazy talk.
i think the bed was put there so no one will open the corner cabinet. i shudder to imagine what’s in there.
I’m with Garry on this one: “Psycho” meets “Silence of the Lambs”. It rubs the lotion on it’s skin, or else it gets the hose again…
It’s a creepy room. I would feel just awful getting in that pose, or having sex in that room, because the sense that Mom is watching (from beyond the grave) would be too great. That being said the subject is really cute. Almost cute enough to make that room bearable. Almost.
And I think I spot a rocking chair in the corner. Very, very sad.
not just a rocking chair, a nursing glider.
I think the lotion has a purpose other than skin care.
….And he is definitely getting the “hose” again.
Proving once and for all that perspective is all about the vanishing point.
Horrifying in so many ways. Especially since he stole that nightgown combo from Bea Arthur. Maybe he is playing Dorothy from Golden Girls or Samantha from Sex in the City. Or both, who knows?
unable to sustain a relationship with Superdaddy, jeffy rented a furnished room and began dating the Invisible Man.
I think this falls into a category that I have seen in many of the pics on here. “The wife’s out of town visiting her mom/kids/grandkids, so I can hire a male hooker and go nuts! And I’ll take some photos for mementos to carry me until she leaves town again.” category. Awesome!
You know, I’ve been looking for the perfect vintage picture to complete my Diedrich Bader hommage site.
Now, my work is done.
The boy clearly doesn’t have any clue how to put the room together but he knows how shave is butt because that hole looks so fuckable!