You Rock...I Roll

[Pony]

excerpt...

To me, sex is very much part of love. It’s the glue that bonds a relationship. I want to take her mentally, to places no other guys have. Three traits that women love is humor, romance and naughtiness. When mixed together they can be irresistible to a girl, even a dude in a chair can win over a heart with those weapons.

Once you reach this boiling point, you always search for that again. What I mean is once a girl feels this total excitement in her life- chair, or not, she is hooked. Other relationships can become vanilla. It’s me and that girl against the world. I want to know her inside and out through an unbreakable bond.

The fact that my focus is always on the girl, not my physical pleasure, simplifies things in a major way. I have seen disabled guys so concerned with getting an erection that the whole sex experience for the girl, I imagine, must’ve been terrible.

Girls want you to appreciate their mind, heart, and yes, pussy. And when you have all three, then you’re achieving more than most men ever will. It can be very frustrating to a girl to never find a guy that touches all three. Let’s face it, guys can be disconnected emotionally at times, and just plain dumb about women, not to mention selfish physically. For one, it takes time. You have to be willing to build a background and chemistry with a girl. Men forget this a lot, wanting sex almost immediately.

[Pony]

excerpt

Kristina was ready for adventure and some excitement. She’d never tried phone sex, so there were times when Jimmi was out, and I really wanted her to feel that with me. She was an eager student, doing exactly the things I told her, and maybe some extra. She loved it, telling me she never knew you could have have so much fun over the phone. That made it even more exciting for me. It was like breaking in a virgin, only better.

One night my band, Free Spirit, played a club near my house, and Kristina came out. Jimmi had moved out of my house by this time. After the gig, Kristina came back to my house with me just to say good night privately. We got back, and of course, we started playing. She was in my lap, and when things got hot I laid her back on my bed. Kristina was so ready for this, and told me later it was her plan from the start. Kristina definitely wasn’t a shy person. In fact, she was more assertive than any girl I’d ever met before. It was refreshing because she knew exactly what she wanted and knew how to ask for it, or demand it.

A few months passed, and we had other fun times, like making her pull panties down in back of my van while surrounded by people outside a restaurant. It was funny, yet hot at the same time. Here’s all these patrons right outside my van, and Kristina is masturbating on the sofa in the back of my van.

[Pony]

excerpt

Throughout the week we really had a good time together. She was very good at entertaining herself when I was at work, or away. She loved running on the beach in morning, laying out in the sun and collecting shells. I would come down later to take her out to lunch or dinner. At times we would just hang out watching TV, or go listen to a band at the Palm Pavilion or Frenchy’s Rockaway. Sometimes Porsha would just fall asleep laying across my lap. But, there was also plenty of creative sex that was so fun with her. Our minds just clicked. I remember one time her standing in her panties in front of the mirror, brushing her pretty Chestnut brown hair, while I watched from behind, talking to her. Soon, she was on the counter facing me very wide.

When Porsha went home we stayed in constant-touch. There was talk of her moving down to Florida, but she had this very good job, great benefits and family there. She had to consider that, and I never blamed her for deciding to stay. There was no guarantee with me.

So, Porsha visited two or three times a year. Every visit was special, we just knew how to enjoy each other. However, a long distance relationship can create a chronic longing to be with that person. Not easy to live with that forever.

[Pony]

(excerpt...buy the book, please! lol)

The first few years after an injury, like mine, is all adjusting, learning to accept yourself, learning to find purpose- finding a direction. The stress level is big as the frustrations can push you over the edge. I remember screaming at myself, and God, and even fantasies of suicide, but when Darcy came into my life she gave me something solid to hold on to. Let me tell you, there’s no better medicine in the world than the touch and love of a woman. There I was at one of the all-time low points that anyone can ever imagine, and here’s this girl kissing me, loving me, getting sexually excited with how I touch her and talk to her. No, when I think of how much that meant to me at that crucial time, there’s no counseling that could have built my self-esteem the way Darcy did. As cheesy as it sounds, love is he most powerful drug.

Darcy handled my injury so easily that the chair was no big deal. In fact, we were mostly like any other couple, except she drove my van. She even learned how to transfer me to bed, and we would hang out. Of course things became sexual very quickly as I’ve always been a highly sexual person, and she was really just learning in that department.

She’d had sex only one other time, and that was some idiot taking advantage of her at a party, where she was intoxicated. There’s no way I was going to let the non-function of my downstairs stop me from making Darcy hot, and so I used the tools I had- my mouth, hands and mind.

[Pony]

I’ve always had a penchant for romance and naughtiness mixed together, and while she took her leads from me, I was also learning how to operate within my zone. I discovered my sexual pleasure would come in the way of mental, not so much physical, anymore. It was through her physical pleasure that I would get excited. You see, since I was missing my own physical turn on there was no better sexual high than to have a girl get excited by my doing. I was learning to transition my feelings to another area of satisfaction. I didn’t need the pleasure downstairs to feel pleasure anymore.

Consequently, I left my need for physical utopia in the dust. I was moving forward with what worked.

[Pony]

(excerpt from book, available on Amazon)

Along with the self-esteem boost, Darcy also planted a seed in my mind to go back to school, so after we broke I enrolled in the local community college. I didn’t know if I could pull this off, or not, considering I really couldn’t write by hand at the time. My hands didn’t have enough dexterity to write legibly- something I taught myself later. But, I decided to go for it anyway.

Unsure of myself, I signed up for two classes, wrote by mouth at first, but started trying to write by hand out of pure embarrassment. I felt foolish bending over the table to write by mouth. With time, I got better by hand, even good enough to take class notes- not great, but ok. In fact, looking back I should’ve asked someone to copy their notes for me, but I was starting to build up some pride. I just could not bring myself to ask. Besides, I was doing it, just not very good.

The classes didn’t take up much time, so I was home a lot, but hated being inside. So, I worked out everyday pushing the roads in the apartment complex. You see, I had this (unrealistic) idea that if I became the strongest quad ever, I could overcome this dependency factor.

[Pony]

My friend's kid reading my book...hahaa



Yesterday by the water...

[Pony]

Thanks, Inky..u ROCK!!

(excerpt)

Really, there are two of me. A river runs between us. On one side is a prisoner confined to a small cell, only able to peer at others with freedom to walk, use their hands effortlessly to hold things, feel things, pull things, create things, and caress someone. On the other side of that river is the me that’s free of bondage, successfully graduating college, working for 17 years, drives, recorded and performed music in public and has had meaningful loving, and sexual, relationships.

The two are forever joined. One cannot survive without the other; however, the two are in a never-ending war. Not all the time, but too often the prisoner pulls the free one down, holding him down from so many things. It’s natural that the free side of me gets angry with the prisoner, cursing him quickly, but trying not to let him pull me to that side of the river that can only feel isolated and hurt.

After 34 years of this strained relationship, I’ve learned to cut the anger short and never dwell on the prison, but I’d be lying to say it’s not there constantly. It’s not unlike someone sentenced to life in prison for a crime. In my case, the crime was getting extremely drunk and high at age 21 and driving.

[Pony]

One thing I’ve noticed is that after a great tragedy, or an event like mine where someone is paralyzed by an accident, people turn towards religion. I guess it’s only natural to reach to a higher power to help us down here on this mortal planet where anything can happen. But for me, I rarely see anything change through prayer and faith. I think it helps people to feel comfort…reassurance that a higher power cares about them. And I do admit that religion helps people try to be better people.

My erosion of religion, or God, in my life began before I got hurt in the car accident that placed me in this chair permanently. I was like most kids growing up, having religion taught to me by my parents and the church they took me to. I had my little suit, Bible and my young mind ready to be filled by the fantastic biblical stories and the idea that my behavior would lead to heaven or hell.

So impressionable, I jumped in with everything I had, carrying a Bible everywhere and praying almost constantly for my sins, even as a small child. I was taught us humans were constantly sinning, even if I couldn’t really come up with anything I’d done wrong. My mother told me when I was about four I turned to a lady who was smoking in a restaurant and told her she going to hell. I’m sure the lady loved that.

[Pony]

With a lack of sensation comes a more pronounced emphasis on mental-sensation - or, phantom feeling! I can fit my hand around a baseball, not really feeling the leather or texture. But I can use my memory to hone in on exactly that feeling. I do this many times during a typical day with things I have to handle

You see, my fingers don't work at all. They cannot open to grab, or feel anything. However, that doesn't excuse them from work. Oh no. They are going to do everything they can, as long as they are attached to these arms, which still have use of biceps, shoulders and a tiny bit of wrist muscle that helps tremendously when trying to hold anything light in weight, like paper, shirt, or wash cloth. I’m mostly speaking of my right hand, the left is virtually useless. I have very little function with my left.

Sexually, the physical sensation has totally cut off from my sexual organs, but again, the mental sensation of sex produces the endorphin effect. It’s extremely powerful, but not physical. Most able-body people don’t get it! I can understand their not-understanding. I was there once. Actually, the biggest form of gratifying sensation that I feel is vicariously through the girl's physical and mental sensations. That’s where I derive my pleasure.

[Chan]

Hey, Tonypony, I just got a surprise in the mail from Sova.

*Photo only posted temporarily*

[Pony]

hahaha....you tell that dude 'I LOVE HIM!' The alpha-dog, and he's got my fav chica!! lol

[Pony]

facebook me for updates... fb

[Pony]

Anthony Ran Starez’s new book!

Discover the empowering stories of a quadriplegic-musician. Insightful, poignant and a straight look at life after being paralyzed in a car accident. How do you pick up the scattered pieces? How do you play music again? How do you love again? What’s it like to lose sensation and movement from the chest down, including your hands? Learn how one man rebuilds a gratifying and purposeful life from a wheelchair. In his own words, Anthony Rain Starez tells the remarkable stories of struggle and triumph. You’ll understand how precious life can be. How satisfying even a small amount of freedom is. From Anthony’s unconventional, free-spirited journey, you will be inspired to love, live and appreciate your own wonderful gifts in life. You, indeed, Rock. We are each other’s students and teachers, and you will surely get it after reading You Rock…I Roll.

This book is a great read for anyone, as it shines a light on so many areas of life.

You Rock...I Roll

[Pony]

For the most part, my father and I shared few conversations that went deeply below the surface of small talk.  There were more passionate discussions about music; Miami’s music scene, or music history;  jazz history was a big topic.

My dad was a jazz musician, private music teacher and jazz historian who taught a jazz history course at the local college.  Off limits to discussions were world events, or sports, or tragedy of any kind.  My father would stop me cold, and say, “I really can’t talk about negative things.  It’s bad energy!”   I figured, at least he was honest, and I would always move to safer territory, but soon conversations would dwindle, and pleasantries were exchanged, and a “Goodbye” that included an “I love you!”
 
Our relationship was odd, at times, but there were odd reasons. I never held him totally responsible, and I still don’t.  My father was a consummate musician, obsessed with playing music, and living the lifestyle that went along with playing in clubs until wee hours of the morning, drug use, womanizing, many friends vying for his attention and quick-naps here and there for required rest. 

My dad was married to music first.  It was all he really wanted to do since he was a child.  You could easily make the argument he was one-track minded, but it wasn’t that he didn’t care about me, or my sister, or my mother in the old days, or his second wife who had been his wife since the ’70s. He just had a “mission,” and that was play music.  And to his credit, my father won a lot of my respect through his devotion to his craft. Nobody hustled more than him in the biz.

Being a musician myself, I’ve learned the difficult road it is to succeed, or eek out a living solely through music.  But my dad worked hard at finding other musicians, finding gigs, exposure via newspaper articles, playing as a studio musician; even playing in Europe for a while as a street-musician, which he loved.
 
On the surface, my dad was a carefree, easy-going, loose kind of guy. His many friends adored him, really.  Most of his friends were fellow musicians, open minded and slightly off-center. Dad hated judgmental people, however, there was a time when he was extremely religious, and judgmental himself.