Category Archives: Bears

Bear Pride

 Where would Pride be without the Bears? Probably it would be okay, but Bears bring such a different sense of life to the party. We love to eat, drink, and make merry. Most of us are a little larger than the average Twink, have some fur going, and like guy stuff.

Within our subculture, there are Cubs, Muscle Bears, Leather Bears, and various kinds of other Bears — from Polar to Grizzly. Then there are the Wolves, Otters, and Raccoons. Hell, we’ll even let straights and lesbians join the feast. At the Bears’ vast table, there really is room for everyone.

A Bear’s Life magazine is looking for some stories. Full details follow:

A Bear’s Life magazine is currently working on our PRIDE issue and we’d like you to be a part of it! Send us an article no more than 750 words, no less than 650 words, on how you celebrate Bear Pride in your country and how your community supports one another. Please be prepared to send us a high resolution photo of yourself or your community for the article. We suggest that you you have others read your article before sending it in for the APRIL 5th deadline. Please send your article in a WORD document format and email to PRIDE@ABearsLifeMag.com We look forward to hearing from you and reading your articles!

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pour the coffee from the press
heavy cream curbs bitterness
on the tray with ginger cakes
honied sweetness within baked
kiss me now and taste my tongue
for all your glory i have sung
dance and play a striking tune
and i shall love you by the moon
douse the candle light the pyre
though i am older than your sire
with your ankles at my ears
loving you is never queer
be the cub who makes me sing
i shall fit you with a ring
pour the coffee from the press
to wash away the saltiness

In honour of National Coming Out Day…

Some years ago, I read an article that discussed how to come out to family and friends. It talked about neutral, safe spaces and trying not to answer hysteria (if met) with hysteria. As I recall, it was a good article, but (much like the one I read on the perfect kiss) I’ve done a little better following my instinct. I’ve found that just being who I am is enough to get me through any situation.

Often in gay themed media parents and friends are supposed to freak out or answer “I know” when you come out to them. I got neither. By the time I came out, my father was dead, and Mom, being the fag hag, had a fairly lackadaisical reaction. “Oh, okay,” was what I recall getting. And the only time my sister had any freakishness was when, a few weeks after telling her, she realized we were lusting after the same, cute construction worker as he jackhammered the asphalt.

To be honest, there are people who don’t realize that I’m gay. After all, I’m a bear. I’m not a nelly queen (Gods bless ‘em) or a twink. I don’t drag. Think of all that shaving! Despite my BDSM affiliation, I’m not one of the Castro Clones. I’m just me. Sometimes I forget that my sexual preference is not quite as obvious as my tattoos, and I’ll just start talking about some gay topic. It’s amazing when I have to go back and come out before I can move on.

To me being out is not some political statement. It’s being free to be me with all of my fortes and foibles — some tied to my sexuality, some not-so-much. My homosexuality does influence my world view, and when others know that fact, they can being to better understand, and know, me. Only by being true to ourselves can our potential become kinetic. Only when we all learn mutual acceptance and mutual respect can our community become that city on the hill we hear about so often, and only when we strive to our own greatness can we help humanity earn its place among the Stars.

While Kentuckiana PrideFest still has a few hours before it’s over for another year, Jack’s time at Pride is done. I was totally surprised by the Gospel-esque music that was going on for a good while when I came in. The guy at the Free Thinkers booth hoped (as did I) that they were going to move to something secular — soon.

Where else but a gay pride event would the music turn from religious to the Scissor Sisters — yes with segue. And Babycakes, the over twenty-one winner of the limbo contest was quite hot (maybe it was from all the binding over backwards he did). The barmasters in brightly coloured, plastic mini-grass skirts were totally worth standing in line for. So, Jack has a thing for barkeeps. Did we not already know this? The custom fleur de lys t-shirt from Dirty Teaseis a grand addition to my wardrobe. It’s a bleu fleur on a black shirt. I also kidded with one of their peeps that his “I Suck” t-shirt needed to say “I Swallow.” Or to go with the one that had a rooster and a lollipop (that the lesbians had trouble with) it could have an eye with the bird on it.

I sported an Obama sticker, picked up assorted pens, another shirt that says Fuh Q, and assorted papers, pamphlets, and fliers. And signed up to win all matter of goodies — hear comes the SPAM.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After much searching, I found the booth for the Louisville Trailblazers, met a woman whose owner had wandered off as well as a guy whom she described as a “sick fuck.” Yep, Jack’s quite at home here. I did manage to  get their meeting times and place. Let’s say there’s a barstool awaiting my imprint. In the process, I played their duck game and won a rubber Leather Pride wrist band. 

 

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There’s a wonderful refrain in  Auntie Mame: “You’ve got to live, live, live. Life’s a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death. ” I couldn’t agree more. A few years back when I began cleaning up the train wreck that I called my life, the phrase came to me and served as both a mantra and a goal. I still hold it with me. While I believe in the existence of an immortal soul, I know that I have this life. I must live it to the fullest of my capacities and capabilities, and I have to enjoy myself. The only sin is not living one’s life.

So, I’ve decided to do something I thought I didn’t want to do. I am going back in for the nipple piercing. I haven’t made up my mind if it will be today or later in the month, but it will happen. Yes, it hurts. Yes, the after care is a pain — for a while. Yes, my leather duster rode right against it to give me ecstatic pain. But damn, it looked kind of hot, and once it was healed enough, playing with it was a new sensation in pleasure. Funny, how I recall both aspects with some fondness.

Oh, and yes, I’ll be getting one of those nice leather arm bands too. I guess Jack has found himself and is smirking with revenge.

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whip cracks echo in night
quickly like a snake bite
pain leaves pleasure
icy touch brings heat
dominate submission synergy
passion brings salvation
mercy master baptize me