after-zeno

Bodies and minds at rest, play and 'in development': Flights of fancy from male homosocial and homoerotic life - with an Australian ambience.

[nemfrog]

Mostly orange and blue marbled book cover. 1865.

Source

[uncleclaudius]

Silver image of Galba, who became the emperor after Nero's suicide in 68 AD. Galba's uncompromising and old-fashioned values impressed his peers in the Senate, but not Rome's legions. Galba's insistence on strict discipline and lack of a money donative which the legions had grown accustomed to from a new emperor (together with some other serious missteps) meant that he was assassinated by the Praetorian guard early in January 69 AD after a mere six months as Princeps.

This concrete example was discovered badly damaged in Herculaneum among scraps of other statues and was probably disposed of after Galba's fall.

[angrylovelyheart]

Arno Breker (German 1900-1991) Der Verwundete (The Injured One) 1938

[edgarpmoser]

young man after tennis

[mentaltimetraveller]

Jeanne Vicerial  and Leslie Moquin

Clinique vestimentaire at Magasins généraux, 2021

[chaoticnutcase]

Art Deco reading lamp, bronze and alabaster

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Sonnet 90

I'm much dearer to myself than I used to be; since I've gotten you in my heart, I value myself more, as a stone to which carving has been added is worth more than its original rock. Or, as a written or painted page or sheet is better thought of than any scrap or shred, so do I of myself, since I became a target marked by your face, which does not hurt me. Secure with such a mark, I go anywhere like one who has with him amulets or weapons that make every danger fade away from him. I prevail against water and against fire, with your mark I restore light to all the blind, and with my spittle I can cure every poison.

— Michelangelo, 1534 (translated by James M. Saslow).

[mensstreet]

[jetix]

Aleksander Nordahl

[stanford-photography]

White Chrysanthemum in Blue Vase By Jeff Stanford, 2026 Buy prints of this image at:  https://fineartamerica.com/featured/white-chrysanthemum-in-blue-vase-jeff-stanford.html or more of my images at: https://jeff-stanford.pixels.com/

[cyclistsfit]

[mentaltimetraveller]

Rashid Johnson Sodade

19 June – 13 November 2022

Menorca

[hatecarslovebikes-blog]

[lostfunzones]

Agostino Arrivabene

[after-zeno]

{after-zeno fiction}: ‘The Ride’

Queer Tour-de-France Fiction (Full Text V2.0)

August 2022

Copyright: Ian Bell

Image: via @bicyclistnet

Dreams

One, ‘Nathan Carraway’, rested after the long, training ride.

Contemplating his future tended to bring on undue anxiety. Hopefully, in a few weeks, the years of single-minded focus would yield that greatest opportunity for a cyclist - a spot in a Tour de France team. Nathan was one of those lithe, slim cyclists. To be sure, he had the developed thighs but in his navy lycra replete with striped, blue and white, and pink and white, sleeves, he exuded purposeful restraint and a certain type of cycling cool.

Sleep came only slowly that evening. But once it did – Nate (the nick his friends used) was soon all over the races to come - every which way!

A keen student of history, it was no surprise that his mind’s-eye conjured up a heroic image of cyclists as inheritors of the competitive, charioteer tradition.

But, of course, Nate’s mind flutters soon turned to glory! He dreamed of wearing the yellow jersey - and for some reason - memories of Cadel Evan’s win coursed through his dreamy mindscape.

Nate woke with a start in the early morning. He felt kind of dirty, pervy - and even checked his neck in the mirror for the hickeys he glimpsed in his dreamy fantasm. Hickeys – from whom? Why would he be kissing himself in the mirror? Where did his dreams dredge up such stuff from!

Focus! He had the chance to become a cycling legend if only he put everything out of his mind.

Refracted through a hazy dawn, Nate cussed out loud:

-focus, for goodness’ sake, focus!

Team-Building

A few weeks later, Nate was indeed selected as a team member for the race of races.

At one early training meet, though, it was not team talk as such that coursed through his mind. Rather, staring into the mirror window of a team vehicle, it was Nate’s self-talk that echoed in his head:

-I can win.

-In the end it is about what l can achieve.

Gold wreaths, olympic-style, filled his fantasies.

Nate felt anxious about fitting-in with his new team; this was heightened at public ‘PR’ events.

Ever purposeful and restrained in style, he took care to look good in the team’s soft green lycra and gear - but not in any way to exhibit or draw attention to body parts. Comfortable with awaiting cameras, team veterans looked at him oddly as they goofed around and dressed-up and out, as it were. They paraded like a rowdy band of warriors in phalanx formation, helmuts in hand. The other guys’ confidence unnerved Nate.

It is the small, daily rituals that create the possibility of trust and care in a team. Over-time, you get comfortable with team-mates up close and personal. Group exercises help.

Yoga, for instance, builds flexibility as well as peace of mind. Hal, the team’s yoga teacher, was a veritable (and unexpected) adonis who wore a bright red wrestling suit to class. It seemed he loved working the guys’ buttocks. Squats, locust poses lifting both legs and arms, and boat pose – all figured prominently in team sessions. Hal paced the yoga room demanding both effort and precision in the execution of asanas.

But near the end, Hal stilled. He exuded a kind of lightness of being – encouraging breathwork, grounding ‘in’ the body, and visualisations. At this point, Nate refocused and felt refreshed.

At other times, teammates needed help with skinsuits and the like at, shall we say, very close quarters. With an unexpected reflex, new folk like Nate jumped to steady a ‘tried and tested’ champion on their bikes when required; to make themselves useful.

But even so, in handling the new Castelli, ‘Scorpion’ suits, Nate felt strangely dizzy, moved even – and a bit clammy. Nate did not have the confidence to wear the ‘Scorpion’ suit himself, but he felt his relation changing to those team members that did especially those that insisted that only he assist their preparations.

Perhaps he was fitting-in at last!

Racing - Day One

From early morning, cyclists arrive: geared-up, pumped-up.

Nate’s mind is a tight skein of emotions intent on jarring against each other in his mind’s-eye and chest. Aggression courses with fear. Hope jostles with uncertainty. Tactics splinter in Nate’s thoughts - in search of the team strategy.

In the flurry of first day excitement, Nate adjusts his gear - endlessly. But the greatest comfort right at the starting-line, is his coach’s steadying hand clasping the rear of his bike seat firmly and, in turn, stabilising both the bike and Nate.

Racing….!

The skein of emotions releases pent-up energy. Once in action, events seem a blur. Sweat, ‘grunt’, strength, skill and intellect, all play into survival as each kilometre is ground out.

There’s no falls or even greater catastrophes but, at the end, stage finishes can be a dangerous even bloody business as teams surge for points. Alas, this first day was not to be Nate’s or his team’s.

Afterwards, the blur only slowly releases its grip - and then it is to soreness. Nate’s whole body aches. The ‘Brooks’ Climax Saddle adopted especially for the race promised ‘friction avoided’ but the chafing and pain surging through his thighs and glutes and perineum tell a very different story.

The Reckoning

Happy are the guys who have such mutual comfort that they can, literally, lean on each other. Of course, shared exhaustion after a day of cycling eases the way!

But while his sleepy mates keeled over on one another in the late, afternoon sunshine, Nate decided to walk in a nearby forest reserve to wear off the feelings and hurts of the day.

The light was ‘mesmerising’!

Nate passed one of the cyclists (Carlos) leading the Tour doing an early evening run. Shirtless and in his trademark worn trackpants, Nate took all of Carlos in out of the corner of his eye.

But, caught up in his own reverie, what Nate did not realise was that Carlos stopped after passing and shadowed him.

Having rested on a tree to take in the rising moon, there was a burst of shuffling nearby. Then, he found himself touched-up. Hands enveloped him and the bodies of ‘familiar’ fellow cyclists offered themselves. Shocked, Nate froze.

Veering about faint, disoriented even nauseated, Nate slunk down the tree. Unexpectantly, his face came to rest in the grip of writhing cyclist thighs wrapped in lycra. Strangely, Nate felt comforted and affirmed in this enveloping space. He clasped the thighs and pulled them even tighter.

Disoriented, Nate struggled home in the night light. In his elevated, hyper-awareness, that half-light dug deep and memorably into him. It was as if mind and body had fused in a whole new amalgam! He had enjoyed being ravaged, but his mind played guilt trips. Emotions surged!

The ambition of getting on to a Tour De France team and winning a stage - or more - had motivated him for so long. But now everything, somehow, felt different.

New Dawn

While delighted by the truly ‘antique’ cyclist prep box, wheeled-out, literally, for his use before the start of that day’s racing in the ‘Tour de France’, Nate faced the morning after with his mind and feelings in shards. In short, he was in a funk.

The pink, morning light was both comforting and challenging. It felt like the light exposed him. Nate sought to come to grips with his new queer experiences and, perhaps, not surprisingly, his erotic antennae were primed to the point of distraction.

The beauty of many riders was subtle, non-obvious but everywhere! The lines and contours of the human body, especially the male body, were sources of sheer joy. There were beautiful hands and shoulders and…more. Of course, some riders loved to gear-up to make an impression - actually, a quite strong impression taking maximum advantage of the new generation of sheer gear. Intriguingly, quite a few race riders cultivated a very specific look: the ‘modest’, ‘smoothish’ and faux, emasculated look - even if fellow riders prodded and teased them for doing so!

Yet, despite the sheer exhilaration of his new ‘eye’, alone at the end of the racing day, Nate yearned for something more. The words though, the language, just would not come to express (even less to salve) just what that yearning was.

Team Spirit

-Mind and body, tactics and strategy intoned the team’s Tour de France manager.

Tactics and strategy ‘talk’ occupied a lot of Nate’s time - and that of his cycling team-mates. How to support the lead riders? Which riders should take a primary role given that day’s geography - and so forth.

These cerebral discussions were balanced by demands on each of the individual riders as to diet, weight, fitness and health, and of course, self-talk and visualisations. Team staff checked and tweaked these constantly - keeping riders on edge.

While waiting for his checks on this occasion, Nate stared (for a long interval) at a fellow rider, James, undergoing this somewhat daunting, whole body, monitoring process. Unlike Nate, James was ‘built’ with a perennially slick haircut, and shorts that always flattered his physique. Unusually for a cyclist, James’ upper body muscularity was as ‘developed’ as his thighs and legs.

As James left his session, his eyes met Nate’s. He winked and commented:

-You’re welcome

Nate blushed somewhat embarrassed.

What made these stresses tolerable were the unfolding bonds between team members. After recent events during which Nate had more openly embraced his queerness, he noticed all the guys loosened up in the team bus - joking and relaxing. Everyone became ‘freer’ with each other. Indeed, team-mates now took every opportunity to be playful to the point of ‘camp’ with and around him! It seemed everyone had become a bit queer or at least open-hearted..

Most days after racing, the team settled into the sauna. On his first visit, Nate was a bit paralysed by what he saw: an array of buns framed by leather jockstraps. Chuckling to himself he asked:

-What is that collective noun?

As it happened, there was a certain optical illusion at play; a type of trompe l’oeil, as it were, for a mirror at one end created the illusion of large numbers.

After some of these sauna sessions, Nate was surprised that certain team-mates offered their jocks to him for, as James put it, “primal pleasure”. Intriguingly, most of them preferred white or black, pure cotton briefs – which were, as it happens, just Nate’s ‘white bread’, preppy, ‘thing’.

With his new, freed ‘eye’, Nate saw queer pleasures everywhere - and these were not just ‘erotic’. He found that a lot could be said for genuine male affection and esteem of all types!

Amid all this, it was easy to forget that the big race still beckoned!

Distractions

Nate loved the story of Icarus, the ill-fated youth of greek mythology. It was Icarus’ aspiration to achieve the extraordinary that appealed - to make the leap of faith so as to reach for the stars.

For Nate, Icarus’ quest was akin to the intensity and passion that drove cyclists in the Tour de France to endure what often felt like an unendurable leap of faith; the quest for glory wrought out of sweat and tears - and sometimes blood.

And it was that same passion that saw Nate and dozens of other riders hit the road for a day of Tour de France racing - once again! The morning light dazzled refracting the summer sun from shifting angles.

Nate made it to the breakaway group providing cover for his team captain every which way as the pace ebbed and flowed with the terrain from cobbled streets to country by-ways.

The flow seemed to be with Nate and his team, as their rhythm became easier and faster.

Navigating a corner, the line of vision converged on a nearby field and, wonderfully, a golden-hued, youth - at once tanned, firm and with an arm outstretched to the horizon - as if a statement of destiny. The lad was obviously out to be seen with his carefully calibrated gesture.

But all of a sudden destiny called Nate to the unthinkable - a domino-like crash that collected more and more riders. Nate twisted and fell hard. Bloodied. Dazed. Nate sat on the country road trying to pull himself together.

Even when he tried to get back on his bike - it was no use – the risk of further injury was too high. Not for the first time this Tour, Nate was shattered.

Once cleaned-up and back at the team hotel, immersion in a cold bath began to ease the swelling - a numbing balm. But balm or not - inside - Nate was consumed with rage and anger to the extent that he coughed and spluttered, thoughts cascading at speed. The Tour always has its winners, so why had his long journey of ambition and perseverance not held? Why had ‘chance’ intervened?

-Damn Icarus!

Becoming

Baths, baths and more baths!

Nate’s mind was free-floating. But every move hurt even when immersed. Hurting brought back the crash and his inglorious exit. Eventually, though, the iced water properly numbed the pain setting Nate’s mind free.

Whether win, lose or exit from ‘the magnificent race’, the bonds with other racers persisted and helped to make the whole commitment to professional cycling worthwhile.

This was especially the case in relation to Nate’s own team with whom he was often sequestered for long periods – James, Hal and the like. Bonds were formed ‘on the road’ in competition as well as in the long periods of team training where shared facilities (and experiences) were the norm. Smiling fondly, he recalled communal life: beds and bunks lined-up; laughs and jokes after lights out; pillow fights; free talk and play.

Nate’s ‘bonds’ with non-team competitors like Carlos also ran deep. ‘Explorations’ after-hours had connected him body and mind with an array of fellow cyclists. Nights of emotional and bodily immersion, of touch, had re-made him; recast his sense of the possible! Nate’s desires and psyche were wrenched in totally new but, let it be said, fulfilling ways. And with this re-making came signs of new ways of being.

But how to live, now? Queer? Gay? Do these communities still offer distinct and fulfilling ways forward? Might recreating the affirming, communal life of the team and even the peloton become a new, audacious way of living?

Nate mused out loud:

-How should I live? Who should l become?

-I have to work this all through to create something that does not crash and burn – not like Icarus – but, rather, like, yes, Hercules.

-Yes, with the persistence of Hercules and his famous labours!

                                                 ***

                                             The End

[after-zeno]

{after-zeno fiction}: ‘The Ride’

Queer Tour de France Fiction!

                                                               *

Part 1: Dreams

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/635394226218270720/image-guillermo-p%C3%A9rez-villalta-spanish-

Part 2: Team-Building

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/637564836563304448/image-via-attilioworld

Part 3:  Racing - Day One

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/638739037091463168/image-via-datelinepentagons-after-zeno-fiction

Part 4: The Reckoning

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/648500011834949632

Part 5: New Dawn

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/652241390510735360/image-french-six-day-bicycle-race-by-edward

Part 6:  Team Spirit

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/653693727525765122/image-le-tdf-madness-03-miki-de-goodaboom

Part 7: Distractions

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/657228399448932352/image-the-classic-cicli-fiat-by-plinio-codognato

Part 8: Becoming (Series Final)

https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/664910277941379072/image-adapted-from-original-by-rafael-silveira

                                                                *

[after-zeno]

Image: ‘French Six-Day Bicycle Race’ by Edward Hopper.

                                                       *

{after-zeno fiction} : ‘The Ride’

Part 5: New Dawn

i.

While delighted by the ‘antique’ cyclist prep box wheeled out before the start of that day’s racing in the ‘Tour de France’, it has to be said that Nate faced the morning after his ‘reckoning’ in a funk.

His mind and feelings in shards - the pink, morning light was both comforting and disorienting.

Scanning his mind and body, Nate sought to come to grips with his new queer experiences.

Image: John MacLean, Ottowa

                                                       *

ii.

As the day’s racing got under way, Nate’s erotic antennae were primed to the point of distraction.

The beauty of many riders was subtle, non-obvious, but everywhere!

The lines and contours of the human body, especially the male body, were sources of sheer joy.

There were beautiful hands and shoulders and….

Image: @lakey​122

Of course, some riders loved to gear-up to make an impression - actually, a quite queer impression!

Image: via @happyinlycra

                                                       *

iii.

Intriguingly, quite a few race riders cultivated a very specific look: the ‘modest’,’ smoothish’, and faux, emasculated look - even if fellow riders prodded and teased them!

                                                                *

iv.

Yet, despite the sheer exhilaration of his new ‘eye’ - alone at the end of the racing day, Nate yearned for something more.

But the words, language, would not come to express (even less to salve) just what that yearning was.

Image: simone nobili, dust magazine

                                             ‘The Ride’

                                        Part 5: New Dawn

                                                 The End

                                                         *

*If you wish to go Part 6: Team Spirit of this series: https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/653693727525765122/image-le-tdf-madness-03-miki-de-goodaboom

*If you wish to go to Part 1: Dreams of this series: see:https://after-zeno.tumblr.com/post/635394226218270720/image-guillermo-p%C3%A9rez-villalta-spanish-b