Monday, February 8, 2010

The Beholder

There's something about football that just doesn't speak to me. There's a bluntness that has no appeal. It's lacking a grace and a subtext. And far too many of the players are walking heart-attacks, and being paid millions to remain that way. I know, I know. Many of you fine readers see it differently. More power to you. You can enjoy my share of the fun. But in the aftermath of the Superbowl, I'm feeling a need for art.
Not this Art, particularly. Though partnering with him on a double-team of that gorgeously arrogant bastard Greg Plitt is always a pleasing image.
This is the sort of art I'm talking about. Every line on this man's body is simply beautiful. Like every good work of art, he's provocative. At least I'm feeling provoked... particularly around the crotch. His hairy legs are sending me into fits this morning. But it's the delicate tat on that incredible acreage of his left pec that makes me want to put him under glass. I've never had the opportunity to bearhug a body quite like this. I think I could wrap my arms around that wasp-thin waist twice and still have more arm to go. The mechanics seem like they'd require some improvising from my standard bearhug, due to the stunning lines and shape of this body. I'm up for improvisation.
This fine young specimen, via Just Beautiful Men, is just at the border of too much of a good thing. Fortunately, he's still this side of the border. I'm not so much into nipple piercings, and the lettering across his chest and sternum look more like his mom stenciling his initials on the label of his underwear than they look like art to me. But every other inch of this man is indisputably the sort of art I like to collect.
Oil him up and drop his trousers, and I'm paralyzed by the beauty here. The scaled tail extending from his rib cage and down his arm (a dragon?) is completely captivating. The tat just above his crotch is making me desperate to know the story there. It almost looks like an FDA-approved stamp, which suggests that this hunk is exactly what the doctor ordered. Typically, entirely shaved crotches freak me out a little, but if you've got some art down there, particularly with text, then it becomes "provocative," rather than just freaky.
One last glimpse here shows off his inside bi-tats. His right bicep is "heaven" and his left one is "hell." Again, this is provoking me to imagine the meaning, to interpret the allusion, to fill in the metaphor (all signs of true art). Since art is in the eye of the beholder, my beholding prerogative suggests that he's ready to crush your head against his ribcage and grind you into submission with a dose of "hell," and when you're crushed and no longer able to put up a fight, he'll reward you with a little dose of "heaven" stimulating your submissive cock.

You probably read this canvas completely differently. And that's what makes it art.

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