Archive for Dirk

Drama this weekend in NYC!

Believe it or, I can actually act. Like, not be The Pizza Delivery Boy or the Nasty Stepdad in the blue movies you all know so well, but I’ve actually got some stage experience. And this weekend there’s going to be an opportunity for you guys in NYC to see.

April 13, 6:00 PM, Stonewall

April 13, 6:00 PM, Stonewall

Sunday evening, April 13, starting at 6:00, there’ll be a presentation, an unstaged reading, of a brand-new screenplay adaptation of John Preston’s iconic novel taking place in the 1970’s NYC leather/SM scene, Mr. Benson, and I’m thrilled to play the part of Rick, an undercover cop who gets more than he bargains for.

Not my actual costume.

Not my actual costume.

The event is open to the public, $10 admission. There’ll be cocktails, and then at 7:00 we’ll read through the screenplay. Afterwards will be a Q&A with the cast and the team behind this venture. The goal of this reading is to interest investors in financing the actual filming of the script. Following the success of Fifty Shades of Grey and other dalliances with the BDSM world in general culture, this adaptation is timely, and I’d say it’s time we had a gay contribution to the genre. Who best to adapt than John Preston?

More about the reading can be found at:

The Facebook event page

The Facebook page for the screenplay itself

The Mr. Benson Tumblr page

And this rather nice writeup by Amos Lassen

Mr Benson poster

This is hardly my first time showing some thespian chops…

Nope.  Not a single cool thing about me at that age.

Nope. Not a single cool thing about me at that age.

Um, yup. That’s me, I’d guess in 1985, age 14 or so, in rehearsals for a junior high production of Lil’ Abner. Just in case you think I look like a lumbering goon… Well, there’s a device in Lil’ Abner that turns the town’s wimpy menfolk into big strong models of male virility who lose a bit of their character and smarts in the process. I was cast as one of those big strong models of male virility (yeah, that’s a stretch–I hear you all laughing!). So I’m SUPPOSED to be a lumbering goon!

That was the year I was first ever thrown on stage in any serious role. My eighth grade music teacher strongarmed me into auditioning the previous autumn for a musical adaptation of A Christmas Carol, and to my deep consternation cast me as Ebenezer Scrooge. Then rehearsals started, performances rocked, and I was hooked.

I acted all through high school. My friend Sophie and I were repeatedly cast as the comic/romantic lead couple. She and I got along famously as long as we were just in classes; the moment we had to be on stage together we fought like cats and dogs offstage. Ten years later when we arrived at our high school reunion as the only two members of our class showing up with a same-sex date, that suddenly made a lot of sense… I was always a little disappointed never to be cast in any of the musicals, though: as a capable pianist, I was always made rehearsal and pit pianist. That had rewards unto itself, of course; with piano-heavy scores like Promises, Promises and Fantastics, I was still having a blast and I honed a lot of musical skills. My high school had an active children’s theater outreach program too, and my first attempts at arranging and music directing theater came from assembling, arranging, and sometimes even composing scores for those productions. I also generally found some way to be a character in the plot while also playing the piano…

College slowed my acting activites. Other than the occasional little opera role, most of my focus was on playing piano and tuba and composing music, not treading the footboards. I made a few stabs at writing opera, notably making a not-horrible setting of Robert Frost’s A Masque of Reason, which alas will never see the light of day. With a poet friend I started a stage project modeled on Conrad Susa’s opera Transformations to be called In the Beginning. It was to be a retelling of a substantial collection of creation myths, weaving them together and drawing parallels, and showing how in fact at the root they’re essentially the same tale, and that all humans are of the same seed and root as the cosmos as a whole. It was an ambitious project which we never quite got off the ground, despite some just mindshatteringly awesome and brilliant text. One of the roles I was specifically looking forward to writing for myself, that of the darkness, the resistance, the tempter and sullier.

For a while after there wasn’t much. I enjoyed a quick spate of opera roles with Baltimore Civic Opera the last two years I lived there before moving to New York, but that was it. For my first ten years in New York I didn’t act one bit.

Then along came porn. Of course, it’s not quite the same, but it certainly scratched an itch, let’s say. The acting bits are always a tad stilted in any classical sense, but then you all are just going to fast-forward to insertion and cumshot anyway, so the less talking the better. And really, as it comes to the sex, porn is apparently best when there isn’t actually any acting involved, meaning that I really AM having that much fun. The surprise was that something where acting is seemingly of a secondary focus would lead me back to acting again.

Ham, me?  Evidently.

Ham, me? Evidently.

About three years ago my friend David Graham, a screenwriter in NYC, approached me about a short film project. The script, entitled Tryst, documents a long-anticipated hotel room hookup between two men that goes bemusingly wrong. There’s an abortive sex scene, and a fair bit of nudity, so I think a bit of a demonstrated comfort in front of a camera sans clothing probably had a little to do with being offered the role. I’d never done actual video work other than porn; and I’d understood that the acting involved was quite different from stage work. But I loved the scale of the project: one set, two characters, essentially three scenes. So I jumped at it. We filmed it over two rainy December nights with a VERY sexy costar in a rather splendid hotel suite in NYC. We had SO much fun. The first ten minutes of the film is just me, naked, showering, primping, pumping… Getting ready for my date to arrive. It’s kinda an awesome, beautiful, and bittersweet sequence. The final edits have, as is the nature of these things, taken some time to achieve final form, but it seems there may at last be a premiere in the works, possibly in San Francisco around the time of Dore Alley at the end of July, and I can’t wait. I’ll post that here as soon as I know it myself.

David Graham's rather beautiful short film TRYST.

David Graham’s rather beautiful short film TRYST.

So add then a few small stage appearances here and there. Mostly this has been a few years of being part of events like the “Strange Acts” at the Black Party where I was the Clown King last year and the Monkey King this year… am I being typecast?

But also every once in a while something more substantial came along. I enjoyed singing the role of Polyphemus in Handel’s Acie, Galatea, e Polyfemo in Princeton nearly three years ago now, for instance; I wish I had photos of that costume, as it consisted of a loincloth, some fabric “seaweed”, a cyclops eye in my forehead, a gallon of greenish-grey paint, and naught much else. I’m convinced I was hired for the role not so much because I can sing the low notes the role calls for, but because I could carry off the outfit!

Atlas Boogied.

Atlas Boogied.

So it’s with a LOT of anticipation that I’m looking forward to this weekend. This project brings together a few of the strains of my theatrical life, both former and current. The novel takes place in the leather/SM subculture of 1970’s New York City, where my own roots in the leather community lie. There’s a strong and violent sexual component to the drama, not for the faint of heart; my background in SM and of course a comfort with the subject confirmed by a few years in the porn industry can only help with that. And the project includes many good friends from both the porn side of my life and the non-adult theater side. All I have to do now is figure out what to wear…

The Devil wears Cowhide.

The Devil wears Cowhide.

This performance isn’t staged, it’s just a reading, but all that means is that the dramatic content has to be more confidently conveyed just vocally, a challenge I’m looking forward to. And if the reading goes well, we’re sincerely hoping it will lead to investment towards actually filming, and if so, word is that preference for roles will go to those of us who read this weekend. THAT would be amazing…

May 10, 2014, at R-Bar in the Bowery

May 10, 2014, at R-Bar in the Bowery

And just adding this on, as it came up just as I was typing this. Keep free May 10, too, a fundraiser for New York’s very own Lesbian and Gay Big Apple Corps Band, and awesome ensemble with whom I’ve played tuba for years and years. They’re putting together a burlesque show at R-Bar in the Bowery, and for a climax they seem to want to feature… me. Don’t know quite yet what I’m gonna do, but I expect it’ll involve showing some skin and might well involve music (well, YEAH!). I’m open to suggestions!

That's all, folks!

That’s all, folks!

Quick bit of high art.

I had the AWESOME experience of working with a legend this past weekend.  After much preparation, working off the last bits of fat and eating so carefully,  I traveled to Texas to model for photographer Mark Henderson. Much fun was had, I probably have never worked so hard on such a gig, and I definitely came home sore!

I wanted to share an image from this shoot. Mind that Mark is reserving the top images for his own publication, quite rightly, so if this is an indication of what I’m able to release to you, imagine what the créme will look like!

Photo © Mark Henderson

Photo © Mark Henderson

A personal aside, I’m just in awe of the definition in my legs here. I’ve been waging war on them for about two years, trying to get my quads and hamstrings to harden and grow. Looking at those cords of m. sartorius muscle coursing diagonally across the inside of each thigh just makes me gasp. Not too bad for an erstwhile fatty, if I do say so myself.

More of Mark’s amazing images are on his website, and his books can be found on Amazon.  The man is a magician; I’m hugely lucky and grateful to have been invited to work with him.

Showin' my full set of Uilleann Pipes.

Only a few hours left in Titan’s St. Patrick’s Day sale! Go to to get a month of unlimited HD access for just $14.95 (that’s 50% off)… Or go to and use the coupon code “stpat25” to get 25% off your entire order of DVDs, toys, lube and more. Sale ends tonight at midnight, and any purchase enters you to win two of our autographed DVDs and a jockstrap. Good luck!

photo 3

Okay, so the Irish don’t wear kilts. Just had to sport something green for the day!  Photo by the amazing Yeikov of Y?NOT

Musing on my muses

So here’s starting what should be a series of posts which a few of you have requested.  You’ve noted that Jesse has started posting on his blog a few items of music I’d written, and you’ve come back with wanting to know what music I listen to, and what pieces inspire me as a musician and a composer.  I’ll offer more explanation for some of my thoughts motivating this as I introduce more of these works, but I thought for a start I’d bring up one that has meaning for me a few ways.


Samuel Barber (1910 – 1981) was one of the most iconic American composers of the 20th century.  We all know his Adagio for Strings (written as the second movement of a string quartet in 1936, and rewritten for string orchestra in 1938).  It makes itself heard in movies, notably in Oliver Stone’s 1986 movie Platoon, and in recent years it has also become an unexpected hit for a number of pop musicians and remix artists, including DJ Tiësto, William Orbit, and Paul Oakenfold.

Barber was a gay man; he met his longtime partner, fellow composer Gian Carlo Menotti (“Johnny”, 1911 – 2007) while at university at Curtis in Philadelphia, and the relationship only deteriorated (though never actually quite ended) during Barber’s deepening depression and failing health towards the end of his life.  Menotti is known best for his Christmas opera Amahl and the Night Visitors (1951).

sb & gcm

Barber on the left, Menotti on the right.

Less well known than the Adagio, though, is Barber’s Piano Concerto (Op. 38).  It was commissioned by the music publisher G. Schirmer to celebrate their centenniary in 1960, was one of the first works performed in what is now Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in NYC in 1962, and won a Pulitzer Prize in music in 1963.  As tuneful as it is in its thorny way, I love it especially for its intense violence.  This is the first movement:

ARVE Error: need id and provider

This concerto is especially close to my heart because I was learning to play it in the fall and winter of 1993, in preparation for a soloist competition with the Greater Boston Youth Symphony.  On Christmas Eve of that year I passed my hand through a window, and severed both extensor tendons in my right middle finger on the broken glass.  Two months of surgery to repair the damage and two years of physical therapy spelled the end of any future I might have dreamed of having as a pianist.  I’m long recovered from the accident and still play reasonably well, but having once being able to bash my way through this piece marked a golden age for me at a keyboard.  These days I can still stretch my hands around the second movement, but this first movement (to say nothing of the firestorm that is the third) will probably never be something I can play again.


Three gay American composers, from left to right:
Aaron Copland (1900 – 1991), Samuel Barber, and Gian Carlo Menotti.

Ich bin riesig in Berlin!

So a few weeks ago Jesse and I were interviewed jointly by ZIP magazine in Montreal and published in French.  Continuing with our increasingly international exposure, here’s a very short interview in Berlin’s BONER Magazine, published in German (and where I note the interviewer has tacitly improved what little German I dared to contribute, LOL).

Boner_Maerz_2014_ebook_Page_22There’s a centerfold, a photo taken by a magician of a photographer, FLYFOTO.


The interview is conveniently printed in its entirety twice, the second time in the original English.


Blog-orrhea (not!)

Photo Mar 10, 14 00 51

So here’s me saying it.  I’m a sucky blogger.  Here I am writing my first post here since sometime last autumn (and I’m not sure exactly when that was, as that post expressed some frustrations and at some point I decided it wasn’t the first post I wanted people to read when they arrived here, so I deleted it).  Meanwhile, my boyfriend manages to crank out a nearly daily blog entry, usually thoughtful and provocative though peppered with plenty of dirty pics, and even then manages to produce this awesome page for my blog of all my movies, complete with links to the movies and scenes, a task which would have taken me weeks.  By now I’d presume that most of you looking for news of me know to check out Jesse Jackman’s page, especially for photos of the two of us asleep together, news of our travels together or separately, or snippets of some of the music I write.

To some small extent this is because I have a tendency to wonder why I need to repeat some bit of news when Jesse has already written about it; it just feels redundant, or that I’m just copying his material.  To a larger extent I’ve been dealing with coming to the end of a long dark tunnel in my life, finally pushing through to the end of the debt I started to accrue when the economy tanked; living in NYC as an artist was hard enough when times were good, but when they went bad…

But my biggest reason I think is cultural.  This is not a news blog, or a blog expressly for promoting content (mine or anyone else’s, not that I shouldn’t be doing that as well); my goal here was to write about my experiences and thoughts during this little tenure of mine in the adult film industry.  The difficulty I have is that this is hence a catalog of my personal responses to and opinions about what I see.  For a Maine boy, imposing my opinions on anyone who’ll listen is considered rude; if someone wants to know, they’ll ask.  When opinions differ, it’s considered the obligation of each person to consider the merits of the other’s opinion and weigh it against their own; however, to correct or disparage someone else’s opinion is considered the height of low standards of conduct, and if this sort of blog is a magnet for anything, it’s for people who love to suggest that anything a porn star might opine must be full of the same frothy mush as his head and nuts.

Jesse raises a good counterargument, that anyone who comes to my blog is looking for this insight into my world, an analog to asking my opinion.  Okay, I’d see that point.  It still feels like masturbating in public to me, though.  Then again, I managed to discover my exhibitionist side in sex, so it shouldn’t be that hard to find a similar urge to skinny dip in the word pool, no?

The other consideration, related, is that I find opinions are flexible, changeable.  If my weighted opinion is presented with new information that credibly pulls me in another direction, I have no difficulty revising my belief and understanding.  I would call this “learning”; I’m always amazed at the number of people who call this “hypocrisy”.  I’m not going to be one of these people who stands his ground in the face of mounting contrary evidence because somehow it looks “stronger”; my preference would be to know that I’m as close to right as I can be.  A substantial component of that is to be willing to say “Huh, I was wrong.”  And I’m wrong a lot, just hopefully less and less so as I grow older and learn more.

Jesse raises a good counterargument: how can you collect other people’s input and opinions if you don’t put your opinion out there to generate reaction.  Okay, I see that point.  I just wish (as does he) that I could focus on the vast majority of our good readers who engage in intelligent dialogue, and I wish we didn’t need to see our comment threads overrun by ninnies and hooligans who can’t see past our cocks and assholes and presume that a pair of musclehead sexworkers are only worthy recipients of their contempt and abuse.

So guys, here’s my plea.  Help me make this easier for myself.  If you’re here, hopefully it’s out of interest, be that carnal or intellectual (and hopefully both!).  If you’re looking for a punching bag to vent your insecurity-laden dirty-laundry vitriol on, may I recommend clicking HERE or HERE*.  I’m welcoming your comments; hell, I’m inviting your opinions, even!  Let’s just make this fun and smart, okay?

And I promise I’ll post more.  Yes, that includes dirty pics.
Photo Mar 09, 10 16 35

* or HERE or HERE or HERE or HERE or HERE or HERE or HERE or…

Boston lives up to reputation

This relates to my earlier blog entry dealing with how to say hello to a porn star. I wear kilts. Inveterately. I mean, really, my heritage is Scots. So I was out this eve in my Black Watch kilt, full dress, with friends, and ended up at Boston’s gay mecca Club Cafe. The eve was just ended abruptly by what I presume was a fan, someone I didn’t know, reaching up under my kilt from behind and fondling me. Security swooped in and threw ME out, no explanation, but a hell of a lot of “You invited..” and “Well you’re a porn star so of course our patrons…” Boston, really? In NYC OR Chicago or SF or LA, maybe someone might be shown out for being caught in the bathroom doing drugs or something surreptitiously in the stall. I was standing in the middle of your bar… Trust me, Boston, your gay scene sucks anyway, but Club Cafe will never see me inside their doors ever again. And no loss as far as I’m concerned; if their patrons are going to treat me that way, good fucking riddance.

ADDENDUM: It’s the next morning, and I’m a lot less steamed, so I suppose I can say this in defense of the security guy who saw the event and showed me the door: he probably didn’t see me react negatively to the grope fast enough. My first thought was that it was one of the friends I was talking to being overly fresh and I just disregarded it figuring they’d stop in a moment. When I realized that all hands were accounted for, I had to stop and look at this guy and ask myself if in fact I did know him. By the time I was pretty certain I didn’t and was starting to fix him with the best withering regard I could muster, security was on me. Still, only I and my buddies were shown the door; the offending stranger slipped back into the club.

Wanna wear my jockstrap?

Modeling for COLT Collection, COLT's new line of underwear and jocks.

Modeling for COLT Collection, COLT’s new line of underwear and jocks.

So I’m kinda thrilled to look through Twitter today and find this bit of news, accompanied by this rather awesome photo of me with porn newcomer-taking-the-industry-by-storm and really close friend Tony Orion. Can you tell I love this pup just to bits and pieces? COLT Studio Group is relaunching its COLT Basics apparel line, now called the COLT Collection. Los Angeles-based Timoteo Designs is creating the line, which will be produced in the United States, and will feature designs that focus on fit, fabrication and quality. And I have to say, the couple jocks and briefs I got to put on for this photo shoot lived up to exactly what I’d expect from Timoteo; they’re comfortable, they’re well-made, and they look HOT.

A lodge in the woods, a fire in the fireplace, two good sturdy chairs, and one HOT costar.  What do you THINK is gonna happen?

A lodge in the woods, a fire in the fireplace, two good sturdy chairs, and one HOT costar. What do you THINK is gonna happen?

The shoot was done peripherally to filming a new COLT feature Beef’s N’ Briefs, also starring my friends Bob Hager, Tony’s daddy Paul Steel, Damian Stone, and Sebastian Rossi. By sheer luck of rescheduling, Tony Orion and I not only got to model together, but we’re costarring in a scene that director Kristofer Weston in a subsequent tweet called “the best scene of [his] life.” Gotta love when chemistry between costars is easy and natural; Tony and I have been trying to make this happen as long as Tony’s been in the industry, and I’m STOKED to have had it happen on a COLT set!

Dirk Caber, Tony Orion, & Sebastian Rossi on set at COLT

Dirk Caber, Tony Orion, & Sebastian Rossi on set at COLT

Look for the fashions in the COLT Studio Store soon. For more information, visit COLT Studio Group.

The pigs that squeal the loudest…

The Banned PhotoWhile my husband Jesse Jackman has been spending the last two days fighting back — successfully — against certain bullies cowards who would have his Facebook page taken down, I’ve been alternating between shooting a scene for Raging Stallion Studios and drafting this post while sitting in their breakroom wearing nothing but a jockstrap. À la Benjamin Franklin quipping that if he’d had more time he’d have sent a shorter letter, I’ll just post what I’ve already written on the matter and hope for the best.

These bigots and bullies are people who (despite Christ) are anxious to cast the first stones in order to deflect attention from their own weak and limping lives. Especially by being on Facebook, however, they live in the most transparent of glass houses. For the vast majority of us who are the objects of their attacks, our houses are intact… because although we find their beliefs foolish and hurtful, we don’t go around baiting fundamentalists and homophobes into dark alleyways and beating them bloody. Their actions speak for their stunted character and the weakness of their minds; few of these hate messages are couched in any sort of decent grammar or spelling, and none have any more cohesive logic than soundbites and doggerel can convey (the impotent “Adam and Steve” barb leaping to mind). Name calling, argument ad hominem, and violence, real or threatened, are the last resorts of cowards when they know they’ve lost the argument.

We as gay men and women have no need to make anyone feel small just so we can feel big. We ARE big. We’ve been here since the beginning of time and history, present in every society on earth and huge contributors to intellect, humanity, and civilization. We are capable of committed love, of being part of our families and creating new ones, of relating to a spiritual higher power, and of being true friends to anyone who would befriend us. We will be here until the end of the world and probably beyond, and we are proud to show the world all of this on Facebook or in any of our glass houses.

Let these other people go and shatter their own homes with their “I am without sin” stones if they think their religion demands it. They have no right to break ours. And the pigs that squeal the loudest are the ones that know their time is just about up.

Pressing the Flesh


He’s stunning, he’s gorgeous, he fucks like an animal and takes cocks the size of small buildings.  You’re utterly in lust, you’d kill to meet him, and you’ve just found out…  your absolute favorite porn star is coming to a bar near you.  Of COURSE you’re going!  You know he’s not a cologne fan so you don’t shower, you dress your hottest, and you arrive, and SHIT there he is!  Smiling and chatting and being encouraged to get up on the gogo box for a few minutes.  You have a drink for courage, join the group wanting to talk to him, get within speaking distance of him and…

Grab his ass.

Okay, no.  This happens more often than I’d like to report, that some I’m sure perfectly nice guy in a crowd finds it somehow meaningful to grope me instead of engaging me.  I know that junk goes on camera for you all to watch, but that doesn’t really mean I brought it with me just so you could play with it.  And really, was that two second mashing of my glute really all that satisfying?  Don’t you really want more from me than just that?


Come up and say HELLO.  Shake my hand (the HAND, okay?).  Smile.  Start a conversation about something that isn’t necessarily porn.  All of us on-screen sorts have lives away from the adult industries, and most of us have some biographical information online somewhere; do a little legwork and figure out something we have in common and can relate about.  Um, don’t try to talk model railroading with a model if you don’t know anything about it; find something easy that you both have some background in.  Classical music is always an easy bet with me, as are architecture and fitness…  Sure, mention a favorite scene, but don’t expect great lengthy discourses about the philosophy of the depiction or the subtext of the plot; this is PORN after all and there isn’t (usually) any such thing!  About the most we really can say about any given shoot was if it was fun or exhausting or both or my god that guy had a HUGE cock, what a ride…  And finally, whatever way the conversation goes, remember that we’re probably there being paid by the bar owner or promoter to talk to ALL the patrons in the place; be gracious, talk for a few minutes, and then step aside and let us do our job.


We’re probably standing there showing off a bit of skin.  It’s like passing within arm’s reach of a piano keyboard, I know it’s almost impossible not to reach out and strike a chord as you go by.  Be understanding that there are different modes of that sort of tactile greeting: handshakes are neutral, safe, affable; at the other extreme is reaching for the erogenous zones.  This sort of outreach has an inherent “acquisatory” character; unless I know you or that sort of approach is expressly welcomed, it’s just rude.  If you must touch, do something more invitational: a hand at the small of the back, across the shoulders, ruffle my hair (I don’t use product in my hair, so it’s safe to do that with me!), but be sensitive to what my response is; if it’s not welcome (and that may actually have nothing to do with you expressly, you understand), stop.  And finally, whatever you do, if I look around to see who’s hand that is, don’t disappear–nobody loves a coward; back up to the previous paragraph here and start with a smile and say “HELLO”.  You’re far more likely to get far further with any of us this way than…  Well, touching my ass or crotch means you’re only interested in one part of me, and I’m there to show more of myself than just something you could’ve just downloaded on your computer.  And as sensitive as mine are, twisting my nips only turns me on in certain situations; do it hard enough in a bar and it only makes me want to slam your teeth into the edge of the bar about as hard as I can.  That shit fucking hurts, as evidently you guys who don’t have wired nips will never know…

Come up to us like we’re friends.  Treat us like your peers and equals.  I think you might be amazed to find…  you’ve just made a friend, and that’ll get you far further with your favorite porn star than perhaps you ever might expect, ya know?  Believe it or not, it’s what most of us would prefer too.  COME SAY HI!