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Nudie Pics Are Nothing Short of Spectacular (You Just Have to Own Them)

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Nudity is actually quite awesome.

And before the prudes tighten their garters and the priests push down their altar boys a little bit lower, I am not referring to the plumper of people who wear thongs meant for twigs while in public or the frightening twinks who wore that… thing.

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The Man Cave: an abandoned palace—save one—filled to the brim with inescapable pleasure involving beer, bourbon, barolo, books, Breaking Bad, and beating off.
The Friend

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Every gay guy has The Friend

The Friend’s behavior is what some call abandoned, others call whatever, and what too many misidentify as careless—but this is what makes this friend The Friend

We’ve all been there, accusatory eyes, cocked heads, furrowing brows directed toward him as he interacts with [insert random guy here]. We all know—or at least think we know—that he’ll be sleeping with that stranger. Bareback. That night. Or day. Begin the group gasp. Then the traitor-like smile we all return when The Friend comes back and asks, ‘He’s cute, isn’t he?’ 

And yet, it’s nothing but a deeply disgusting, unhealthy thing. And not what The Friend does but what we do. The Clean. Or the presumption of cleanliness (as godliness always is: presumed). Sitting there, putting on this facade that somehow advertises that we have never—never—engaged in what The Friend does and therefore judging his character silently in his head: ‘He could be cute but of course he isn’t cute because of… You. What I think I know you will do.’

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Great art or thinking should fuck the shit outta you.
Prolixist
If anyone needs proof of the need for STEM education within the States, look no further than the vast majority of men found on Grindr: never before have I witnessed five inches incorrectly measured so many times in my life.
Prolixist
I fuck up. All the time. Practically daily. But at least when I do fuck up again, I fuck up better than the last time I fucked up. People: FUCK UP BETTER.
Prolixist
I Don’t Like You but I Want You to Like Me Inside My Head so I Am Going to Say I Like You

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You know, you don’t have to like me—on any level really. Whether your intentions are a friendship, professional relation, date, relationship, hookup, or [insert prerogative here], you hold no obligation to actually like me or be nice to me.

And yet, you clearly feel an obligation to like me—at least on a superficial level. Because you don’t really like me. If you genuinely liked me, we would be communicating. Not as in all the time, but simply like those all-too-strange beings known as psychologically sound humans. And we don’t. We don’t really communicate authentically at all. Yet you insist that we do and should.

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asks:
I'm a college freshman and I had my first positive networking experience because of you. I read your posts on Long Beachize whenever I can and subsequently I'm considering changing my major to Urban Studies. A woman at the networking panel (who's a senior at Berkeley) is also really interested in Urban Planning and we discovered that we both followed "that Brian Addison guy from Long Beachize." We exchanged contact info. All I can say is, "Thank you, Brian. Keep Long Beachizing on." :)

Dude: coolest. Message. Ever. Feel free to reach out: addison@lbpost.com

Sexting Has Nothing to Do with Intimacy

Though I adore sexting—this brilliant mix of literary talent, imagination, and photography skills—there is one thing that is certain: me sexting you doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.

It has no equivalent to anything in reality when it really comes down to it. It doesn’t mean we’re going to sleep together and it certainly doesn’t mean you’ve seen some intimate side of me. Curated images and text does not equate to reality.

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Anonymous
asks:
Hi Brian, My friend, Beth Pennington, introduced me to your blog yesterday in class. I performed a spontaneous stand up comedy set in class and the subject material I talked about inspired her to connect me to your blog. I've read a couple of articles and I really like them a lot. "When did we, as a culture, become obsessed with literally dumb divas—Katy Perry and Britney Spears and Kim Kardashian—rather than insanely intelligent ones—Madonna." LOVE MADONNA. Jorge Ortiz tomfordy at gmail

This is nothing short of awesomeness.