While I could never claim to be a great fan of Arpad Miklos as the ultimate (meaning both the last great and quintessential) queer porn star, I did admire his handsome face and the alternately wistful and wry expressions that were his wont. He had very expressive eyes to go with his awesomely sculpted physique (something he clearly took great pains and pleasure in the gymnasium to maintain.) I applaud his refusing, in his suicide note, to leave behind one more inadequate excuse for killing himself. He had every right to do so, as far as I'm concerned, and the mystery of his doing it is much more compelling than pretending that it was a matter of mental illness or steroid abuse. As he grew older I began to enjoy his performances with the much younger models who came to play the role of surrogate son to this formidable dad. I'm sorry that I won't get to someday see him plowing some well muscled youngster, forty years his junior, twenty years hence; but now I'm beginning to truly enjoy what he did do, so recently. The truth is that I made this post for someone I admire, another artist, who wished he could have been this huge handsome hairy guy (and also for someone else, whom I love, who likely wishes that I looked more like the man pictured here with a paddle in his hand.)
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