YES, AFTER 27 YEARS IN IRON
STATION, WE HAVE MOVED TO SHELBY, NC. MY DAD LEFT US
THIS BEAUTIFUL 50 ACRE FARM IN SHELBY. I PROMISE TO
MORE UPDATES AND NEW PICTURES POSTED SOON. I PLAN ON REDOING THE SITE ENTIRELY.
FOR NOW, HERE'S A PICK OF THE LAKE AND OUR RESIDENT GEESE.
PLEASE CLICK ON OUR
SPONSOR LINKS - WE MAKE MONEY EVEN OFF CLICKS!
THANKS TO ALL THE MEN & WOMEN WHO VISITED
FOR THE "CONVERGENCE ON CHARLOTTE" MOTORCYCLE RUN
TWO MEN - 28+ YEARS TOGETHER
"the NEW rock bottom ranch
iron station SHELBY, north carolina"
a photo documentary
Entries Date Back
To March 1999
is not a stick
whomping gays and others
"Reverend Jim Ball"
VISIT US AT THE CHARLOTTE EAGLE
work like you don't need money,
love like you've never been hurt,
dance like no one's watching.
"Ken Clayton - Boot" (Our Truest Friend)
i keep my friends as misers do their treasure, because,
of all the things granted us by wisdom, none is greater or better than
The days go by and weeks rush
on - And before I know it a year is gone - Seize the day and have no
Sex Is Not Simple ?
Think of it as a river.
You see it and you say "this river flows west," or, "this river flows
east." You think that's all there is to say about it, but look a little
further back and you realize that all rivers are made of tributaries and
streams. Some are big, some small, some are straight and obvious, some
snaky and hidden. One of the great delights of spending time at the
river is discovering those odd and sometimes delightful little streams
that feed the main flow and make it the unique, individual thing it is.
Society has the
tendency to say that all sex is straight hetero sex and anything
else is dirty. More recently, we have begun to agree that maybe
gay and lesbian sex is okay, sort of, but anything more diverse
than that, you're a pervert
So we keep our little
desires in our hearts and we tell no one, not even our dearest loves who
give us such pleasure and with whom we share everything else in life. We
don't explore, we just dream of exploring; and we don't even let
ourselves really admit that these things, these unspeakable perverted
fantasies we just can't shake off, are part of what we are.
It's a shame, isn't it?
Perhaps that's the shame that's
killing us ?