I've been sitting on this for the last 4 days and keep forgettin' to post it. One of the leaders of Buddhism in the U.S. came out strongly in support of marriage for queers. It's a good read, and includes this little treat:

"The Lama suggests that the president's wife, Laura Bush, who has recently spoken out on a trip to California to urge the country to begin a serious discussion on the issue, would as a former schoolteacher be the ideal person to give us all a much-needed National Civics Lesson on what is so wrong about the political processes that are currently going on." - Lama Surya Das

Bonus Day!

Yeah, today is an extra day. Leap year. So what are you going to do with it? How are you going to celebrate these additional 24 hours?

I've spent the last 3 days being quite busy, and plan on taking some time for me, before heading to the eastside to one of the boys' home for a 'dish the gowns' oscar party.

You see, I have a new plan of attack. Weekends, for the last month or two, have become quite difficult. The deeper inside I was going, the blacker the 50 - 72 hours between the time I left work to the time I returned on Monday morning. Too much time to myself, with little structure, allowed for dismal thoughts and feelings to multiply at hyperspeed.
This week, I set up plans to keep myself engaged with some social contact. That way, when I was home, I would be looking forward to the alone, enjoying the quiet and feel as if I was in my sanctuary.

Although I grew up in a large family, I was quite lonely. With so much going on in this busy space, I was continually left to my own devices. I grew up much too quickly, required to become autonomous at a point where I really needed to be parented. As I'm becoming aware of all this, it explains so much regarding my alone time. I continually need a balance of both, social and then alone time. But although I wasn't afraid to be alone, I couldn't understand why I excel creatively when there is at least another presence around (we don't even need to be in the same room.) I could never figure out why 99 percent of the time, I detested going to movies alone. Any activity that brings some emotional or intellectual reaction needed to be shared with someone. When I am sick or down, the idea (let alone the reality) of being alone just makes me cringe. I craved/crave the interaction, the electric connection.
I used to put myself down for that. Now I know it's just because I didn't get it as a wee one.

I've made it a point to connect with wonderboy each day for the last 3 days. Friday evening was a delightful evening spent with P and his partner D. The conversation was easy and lighthearted, quick and silly. Saturday, I hit Green Lake for a walk by myself. It's something I enjoy. It was a nice day and the loop around the lake was filled with folks. I noticed Bubbleman and his purple van painted with bubbles. His mission is to make people happy. He had this large bucket filled with bubble solution, would dip a very big net thingy in it, and then wave it in the air. There was also a woman walking the path with a sign attached to her, saying, "free hugs". She would ask everyone she passed if they would like a hug. I walked past a gentleman on a bike who was wearing a gas mask. His sign said, "ask me about my mask."
A carnival atmosphere. Seattle celebrates nice days in the winter/early spring.

Mayor of New York town marries same sex couples.

"What we're witnessing in America today is the flowering of the largest civil rights movement the country's had in a generation." - Jason West, mayor of New Paltz, NY.

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For the lovers of Queer Eye...

...Earliest known evidence of a reality series found in medieval vault in eastern Great Britain

Qveere Eye For Thye Medieval Man

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I was wrong, and stand corrected.

A few days ago I mentioned I felt I was living out my fantasy. Well, after discussing that with my shrink, he reminded me that if I were living my fantasy, it would be all about pleasure, even within the pain. And, ummm...there wasn't a helluva lot of pleasure during that time. It's kind of a 'duh' moment. I heard him and thought, "of course."
Apparently, what I was living was a redramatization of the pain of my past. My present replaying my history. The difference being, I wasn't blocking or stuffing the torment.
My fantasy was born from the desire to take a painful experience, and relive it in a controlled enviroment, fenced in with love. Maybe one day. (Regardless of the origination of the fantasy, it's still fucking hot.)

I did end up at the lowest, most frightening place I'd even been. I was terrified of losing my sanity. Part of me stood back and watched all I felt and saw. I knew there was a way out, but felt I no longer had the strength to fight. I was slipping..slipping into resignation of a bland life which is the road to passive death. Give up.

Tough stuff? You bet.

Something then shifted. Honestly, I think I scared myself enough to kickstart my heart.
I don't know where the rest of this journey takes me. But, while in this reprieve, I am taking advantage of surrounding myself with men that I trust. I've made various plans to connect with those I care for. Last night, this afternoon, tonight, and Sunday evening.

Also, I experienced something new this morning. I woke at 5 am, with memories. They brought feelings of rage and hurt. Then I was pissed that this crappy feeling was pushing my good times and luscious sensations from last night to the back of my being.
After tossing and turning for about an hour, an idea came to mind. A new tactic. I visualized the folks who I felt betrayed me, and surrounded them and myself in love. I spent a fair amount of time dumping buckets of thick, oozy love on the 5 of us. Sounds woowoo? I don't care. It helped, quite a bit. It was a way of regaining my power. I now wonder if maybe that's another step in forgiveness and letting go.

Popping in to say hi. Just got home from an amazing evening, relaxed and quite satiated. It's been a long day, between work and then out with one of the boys. Tonight, a little tv and then bed. This week is my 4 day week, so I'm off tomorrow and looking forward to it.
Have a nice night.

The Shrub's vision of the Constitution, by cartoonist Mike Luckovich.

This week's Free Will Astrology by Rob Brezsny, one day late.

I'm doing okay...for now. Just had to qualify that, because, I fear the next onslaught.
Somehow, the remembrance of my fantasy, and feeling I was living it, weakened the demons.
There's lots I want to write about, but honestly, I'm tired. Work has been quite busy, between an all day staff retreat yesterday, and today I was immersed in some problem solving that excites me. One department in our office was stumped with some record keeping, and I think I've finally figured out a solution for them. We've been working on this for over a year.
And, after 4 days of non-stop migraines, I've had almost two days of reprieve. So I'm resting.

Talk with you very soon. I promise.

Yesterday my shrink said "you are on the edge."

Apparently he's thrilled. He seems to get juiced when someone gets to that point.
It's the line between reality and fantasy. It pushes edges of all we consider stable and "normal".
To me, it feels like the space between sanity and insanity.

It's a fucking balancing act.

I realized something this morning. Driving to work, one of my biggest leather fantasies came to mind.
I'm not going to detail the scene, because I want to keep it close to me. But the crux of the scene is getting to the point where I struggle for my sanity. It's the place where I question my reality and feel the line blur between getting so lost in my head and keeping my feet on something solid, trying to find earth.

Today I knew my greatest fantasy is being actualized.

Sir asked me once, "when does the scene really begin, when does it end?"
His point, which I've come to learn is, it's much more than stepping in and out of the dungeon.

When one's reality shifts and you feel yourself bucking that which is considered to be standard, how can you not feel you are delving into insanity? Going against the tide of all that is comfortable and known lends itself to huge discomfort.

This is where I stand.

Checkin' in.
My silence has not been intentional. I simply have no words at this time.

Hey there.

Yeah, I've been quiet. I'm distracting myself with work, and loads of reading about SF and gay marriage. I'm sure you noticed the links.
By the way, the marriage offer in New Mexico's Sandoval county has now been revoked.

So, the silence is due to being too close to the pain. I didn't have a clue how to share it with you. Many attempts have been made to write privately, for myself, and that hadn't worked either.

I'm currently in almost daily contact with my shrink. That weekend party really was a catalyst for pushing very old wounds to the forefront. The reality of who I am sexually, and what that means for my life left me bereft. I felt an overwhelming sense of desolation...believing that essentially I'll be alone, because I'm such a freak. I haven't had the opportunity to even discuss this with those closest to me. You see, between illness and business, life has been quite full for them, and I haven't wanted to distract anyone. On top of it, it's taken much living and being in this body to watch myself evolve to this place. I'm barely comfortable with it. So, how do I even begin to explain this?

Yeah, they accept me as a female who's into primarily gay bi guys. But it's deeper than that. How do I explain that I am a female outside and a gay man inside? It's difficult enough for me to write it here, or say it to myself. Honestly, I'm afraid to even begin the conversation.

I fear that with this self-knowledge, the guys I know won't want to be my friends, or hang out with me. I'm afraid they will think I am trying to place myself in a world I have no business being in...their Avalon. "How dare she!"

So...I felt/still feel isolated. That led to feeling hugely invisible, so much so, that I really didn't see much future or reason for me. Throughout this, I attempted to grasp onto any bit of goodness I could find. I'd try to put forth energy hoping to have it returned. I needed connection desperately, and latched onto the small snippets returned to me. But mostly, I was coming up empty-handed.

Monday afternoon, I walked into my session, sat in the chair across from my shrink, and said, "give me one good reason not to cease to be."
He looked at me, and remained quiet for a bit.

I know everything happens for a reason. I don't believe in accidents. The isolation felt after my coming out party (so to speak) pushed the invisible feelings to such a place where it was touching my original wound. Sitting in the chair, that feeling of being nothing and not being seen was so strong, and something clicked. I turned to my shrink and said, "this is how I felt as a little kid. I couldn't handle these feelings then, and so stuffed them."
He said, "yes."
I began to cry, and whispered, "that poor child."

I won't forget the moment. The weight of those emotions pressing on me. I could barely deal with it, and my heart broke for the little one that ended up feeling that way, forty some-odd years ago. That poor little kid.

Just writing this now has me in tears.

To never be seen.
To be continually told what you should be, because that's what fits in society, in family, in life.
To be loved, but be molded into other than self.
To want to be held and yet mom's busy with new baby after new baby after new baby, and dad is never around due to school.
To have to grow up much too quickly and learn to be the adult to be a proper example to the younger sibs.
To be told "I'll be with you in a minute," and they don't come, because there is always something more pressing.
To want for hugs, for a lap, for a kiss on the cheek.
To long to hear "good girl."

I chose to do this work of self-discovery. It's not crisis, but curiosity that began the search, a conscious journey for the last 5 years or so. But Monday afternoon, I looked at my shrink and cried, "I wish I never began the process. I know I can't stop, and know it's not done. I have no idea how I can go on. I fear I'm not strong enough to continue to dig." He nodded and mentioned he had uttered those same words at one time in his life.

I then asked "how do I make it through?".
Looking at me, tears in his eyes, he said, "suffer through it."

He also told me it's cyclical. Until I touch the very bottom of my pain, each black will be denser and darker than the one before. But it's finite. The hole is only so deep. He also mentioned my highs will be more intense as well.

Wednesday, Hoss wrote about loneliness, and his words spoke loudly to me. Thank you. This morning, blackbird's blog screamed at me. I had to dash off an email to him. By the way, send him a note of encouragement.

I guess it's all working. I am moving forward. Trying to still grab onto whatever fun and joy there is...pursuing projects and challenges. Figure out how in the hell to deal with the pain in the times it chooses to reveal itself further. And, somehow learn how to say, "I need you."

Whoa...

New Mexico county begins issuing marriage licenses to gay couples

Chicago mayor has 'no problem' with same-sex marriage licenses

Regarding the current events in San Francisco, some may be cynical or bitter, saying "what does it matter? So it's a party now, but nothing will really change."

Even if everything were shut down tomorrow, and there was a heavy-handed backlash against all sexual minorities, here is proof of change. Look at these photos of teachers taking their students to city hall to witness history and explain diversity.

That alone makes it worthwhile.

These children are not going to forget this moment. Education, in my opinion, is one of the most powerful forms of activism. To experience, to feel and see. To develop compassion. We can't change minds unless we change hearts.

I pulled that link from this site, which does a great job of documenting the events.

Conservative forces in San Francisco failed to get an immediate halt on gay weddings.

And while you're at it, check out this queer wedding album, courtesy of SFGate. Thumbing through the photos brings an amazing sense of awe.

I don't know about you, but what's happening in San Francisco is having a profound effect on me. In addition to the obvious of equal rights for all, there's something else. Activism, many times, tends to be a very messy process. How many times have we seen antagonism, violence, bitter feelings permeate the arena of protest? It's just what is.
The action begun this weekend is pure, positive energy. Look at the photos. Read some of the stories. There is so much love filling that space. I'm sure it will get quite messy in the future, but for now...it's joyous. There is a massive sense of community. Helluva way to be an activist.

Not quite sure how much I want to write...or what I currently can discuss.
It's been a pretty sucky weekend. Umm, let me step back from that. It's been a very difficult and powerful time, all forward motion, and I am trying to hang onto that.

I've been sharing a part of my story with you. I haven't shared the whole story, because it's not all mine to tell.
It's a journey. And at times, a rollercoaster ride. I struggle with the decision of how open to be, and where my responsibility lies with the words I put forth.

I want to write about what I've been dealing with these last 4 or 5 days. Some of what I want to share is extremely controversial. It's part of my story. And yet, I'm not sure if this blog is a good forum for these particular thoughts. Are some ideas too edgy to be haphazardly tossed around? Is it appropriate to throw certain things out there into the ether, or does it need to be corraled?

Words and ideas are powerful tools.
On one hand, it's not up to me to protect. On the other...

...hmmm....

...maybe the other is that we live in a litigious society. It's a "the devil made me do it" mentality.
"Officer Krupke, if it weren't for that movie , my child would have never gotten the idea."
"They influenced me."
"Your coffee burned me."

Apparently, we are no longer responsible for the choices WE make. It's all about blame.
Utter bullshit.

Every second we breathe brings a choice. Each choice brings some level of risk.
Any given moment we choose to inhale or exhale.
If we don't, we die - one result of a choice.
We choose to stay or walk away. We choose to engage or disengage.
Granted, some choices may not feel like a choice, yet still are. They simply may not be the more ideal choice.
Sometimes, neither choice is thrilling. Sometimes either choice is terrifying. But it's all a choice.

I need to get some advice, and figure out how I want to share this part of my journey...or to see whether or not I ought to filter out some possibly disturbing moments.

Let me get back to you on this.
I know...this sounds like a tease, but I don't mean it to be.
I'm trying to be mindful.
And, I wanted to check in, and say I'm here. Right now, posting links to touch base feels really artificial. It hasn't in the past, but can't do it this morning.

Talk with you later.

I've been keeping an eye on San Francisco. Hugely historic stuff, and definitely extraordinary. Bravo to Mayor Newson, an irish Catholic mayor, for daring to challenge the status quo, an inequity. The following article describes the planning and decision making behind SF's civil disobedience. Fascinating. It gave me chills and brought tears. And...pride. Loads of pride.

From the article written by Rachel Gordon:
"I feel the weight of history, in a way that I never felt before,' she said. "It is remarkable and profound.''
-Kate Kendall, Executive Director of National Center for Lesbian Rights

Read the whole thing - Newsom's Bold Move - Bush's Stance Led Mayor to Act Now

Want to see a photo that not only is gorgeous, but tears you up at the same time?

Thanks to Padacia for showcasing the World Press Photo of The Year.

Yesterday, I found this in my email:

"This is all you have to do to defeat fear: You don't. That is to say, you actually do the opposite, which is to promote the positive, educate yourself, drop your tired notions of how it's all supposed to work and pump out what the ancients knew to be a radiant kind of raw ego-free love. What, too fluffy? Tough.

Because only by making your world, your body, your perspective truly "in love" does anything actually change. It ain't pink hearts and fluffy bunnies and Hallmark swill. It's the most difficult and often most painful and life-altering thing you can do. It means forgoing the safe, questioning your deepest belief, peeling back the self in ways you can't even imagine until you get there and you say, oh my freaking God this is a pain in the karmic ass."

Yup, it's another Mark Morford moment,
What Are You So Afraid Of? Sex? Gays? Terrorists? God?
Now go read the whole thing.

I'm tired and don't feel like any lengthy blogging about me this morning. Although, one small thing, but it's not small in the scope of life. I have to thank someone. Hoss, you had no idea, but you were my angel this morning. I was feeling so low, having woken from a rough night that was disturbed by a pounding migraine which was soul based. I read your words...and cried. Thank you my friend.

Okay, I changed my mind. I need to write about something. Actually, I've been somewhat ordered to write it. Some people can get so toppy! :-)

I've written that essentially I feel stripped bare. Of course, I heighten that feeling by sharing it with all of you. This last week has been tough, more so because it's been one serious coming out for me...and honestly, I've felt incredibly alone and isolated within my realizations. Tough stuff. I know I can't achieve new heights without dipping my toes in the depths of despair. Gawd that's sickeningly cheesy, isn't it? But it's true.

Anyway, here is the paradox I've been wrapped in this week. The more vulnerable, exposed, raw and open I've been, the more powerful I have been feeling. In an odd way, my being feels larger, my skin stretched to accomodate the burgeoning me that lays within. I sit with both.

There is a terrified child inside who feels freakish and, in a sense, raped. Not raped of innocence, but raped of the mud that covered her innocence...the dark that was familiar and comforting. Stripped of whatever was. And holding hands with this child is a giant, looming and smiling down.

A big example is the changes I've seen at work. Instances that would previously stress me, I am meeting more calmly and productively. I am creating solutions for puzzles that have plagued me for the last year. The work challenges aren't as overwhelming and I approach them with excitement.

Power and vulnerability. I've experienced this in the past, when bottoming, or when I topped while fisting. But this...the duality I feel this week makes those moments feel small. Both are so large, and yet they aren't battling for attention. They are somehow working together.

So much for my light blog. I was going to give you a few links that have been on the back burner. But I need to get ready. Sir awaits. I'll have to get back to you later.

In today's Washington Post - Mature Human Embryos Cloned.
(you may need to register to read the article)

If this research continues to be successful, imagine the impact. The possibilities turn science fiction into science not-so-fiction.

And a side thought, considering what is happening in MA again today, we can't agree on the ethics surrounding gay marriage, yet let's open up the cloned human can of worms.

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Wow.

I was checking my stats, and noticed that my 10th visitor this morning became my 10,000 hit! (love number stuff)
Thank you everyone who stops by. Although, I sometimes wonder why you keep coming back.

I began the blog a year ago March, but it didn't go public until mid May, and began tracking stats the end of June. I still periodically think about returning to privacy, and be selective about who can access. You see, there are times where I'll write, and it feels okay to post, yet vulnerability will overtake me. Hugely exposed.

This week has been like that. Honestly, each day I struggle with deleting all I've written over the last 5 or 6 days. Each day brings the same 'freak' feeling. What prevents me is the fact that I can't keep hiding who I am. I hid most of my life.

Intimacy. We speak of intimacy in our play and our relationships. I think there's a greater intimacy to look at...the relationship with ourselves which then flows out to the rest of the world. I feel like I'm blabbing and so will stop. I'm sure I'll have more to write about this.

"What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted!
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted."
-Act III Scene II of King Henry VI Part II

Thank you for the quote.

Historic stuff happening. MA legislature has yet to reach a compromise on a proposal to amend the constitution to ban gay marriage. They will reconvene on Thursday to continue the debate.

Read the article.

Some quotes from today's debate:

''I know the pain of being less than equal and I cannot and will not impose that status on anyone else. I was but one generation removed from an existence in slavery. I could not in good conscience ever vote to send anyone to that place from which my family fled.'' Sen. Dianne Wilkerson, D-Boston, who is black.

''In every instance (of amending the constitution) we have extended liberties to the people. I will not vote to use the constitution to exclude human beings from the pursuit of their own personal happiness.'' Rep. Lida E. Harkins, D-Needham.

''Being one born under a dictatorship, who has lost family because of the actions of those dictators, I say the most precious gift that we have is this constitution and for us to amend it for the purpose of discrimination is to really take away from who we are'' Rep. Marie P. St. Fleur, D-Boston, who was born in Haiti.

''Several centuries ago, one could marry a child or own a woman as property, and in the last 50 years, marriage to a person of a different race could result in imprisonment. Tradition as a rationale for discrimination is not persuasive.'' Sen. Brian A. Joyce, D-Milton.

More quotes.

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For any of you who have my personal email and have attempted to email me in the last few days...please use autre@graffiti.net instead. Something fluky is going on with my home email and I've discovered I'm not getting messages. I'm sure it'll correct itself soon...but don't want you to think I'm ignoring you. Thanks!

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You know, something I keep forgetting to mention about this weekend is the spontaneity. I'm actually glad that it was an in the moment happening. There's something so right in that.

Although the weekend left me hit with the reality of who I am, that is not a bad thing. If you remember my entries from a few weeks back, regarding my fears surrounding play, I needed to discover me. This is another step in my life. Another unfolding.

What's a little unsettling is how I thought I had me pretty much figured out a few years ago. I'm not talking about perfection. But instead, the strengths and weaknesses, and geez...at least my sexuality if nothing else. Things I consider basic. So why do I feel like a brand new kid, who's exploring and ready to taste adventure? Maybe, if we remain open, life is supposed to be about new door after new door.

Regarding my state, I am doing well. Still feeling a little awkward because I'm learning to be in my skin. But it's all good, yanno? And I'm excited about what's over the horizon. Right now, all I can see is a wash of color, and it intrigues me.

Today is Wednesday, and Wednesday is Rob Brezsny day.

(I began the following earlier this morning)
----------------------------------
I've been at work for a couple hours, and notice I'm having a difficult time settling in. Distractions today. My own.

Then I realized that maybe I needed to write, and it will settle me down. So here I am. Good morning.

Still thinking about Sunday. You know, life is simple and complex at the same time. Sunday was definitely simultaneously simple and complex.

I was so juiced on Saturday night. Looking forward to the next afternoon, without expectation....or so I thought. This morning I realized that I did have expectations. Perfection. You see, I was jumping back into the pool...and although I wasn't sure how it would manifest itself...I wanted it to be perfect. And, it was. That is, if I let go of my idea of perfection.

I arrived at my former Top's house. This is the person who went on a mission to get me into training. She is one hot butch, and she's Uncle. People were slowly waking up from a late night, which made for very leisurely Sunday afternoon. When Uncle arose, we were all sitting in the living room talking. There were 6 of us...Uncle, Le Bear, 3 femmes and me. Uncle informed me that is was time to pass her chaps on to me. I earned my chaps! She had me try them on, and they fit...like a glove. Score. It will be a little while before I take possession of them...but it doesn't matter. My personal tradition seems to be that I earn, and later, receive.

When I needed to let go of my Leathers, I gave Uncle my boots. She was the one who awakened my love of boots, and therefore it felt quite appropriate to hand them to her. They were 11" high motorcycle boots. Uncle held onto them for the last 4 years. On Sunday, she looked at me and then at her bottom sitting beside her. We knew. And so my boots were passed on to her bottom. Once again, a perfect fit. I was thrilled. Next time I see her, I will be on my knees doing some bootblacking for her, in the boots. My gift to her.

This bottom then went to put on her chaps...with the boots, and spent the afternoon in them. Sitting around talking, Uncle pulled out loads of photos that went back 5-10 years. Passing around the images, she shared some of her stories with us.
In the meantime, the chapped femme grabbed her embroidery. Sitting there in leathers, cross-stitching, and sharing space. It was an Ozzie & Harriet with a twist kind of moment.

I watched it all unfold...an easy Sunday afternoon cloaked in black leather. Uncle was surrounded by family. For me, it literally had the same feeling of visiting relatives when I was younger. Comfortable.

After a few hours we made our way upstairs, where Uncle began pulling uniforms out of the closet. Loads and loads. There were hats, jackets, boots! We were all in different stages of dress, and the play slowly evolved. I felt myself getting nervous. Not in a performance anxiety sense, but in a 'this isn't me' sense. My sexual excitement was dropping and the anxiety came because I felt I was expected to perform in a way that didn't feel comfortable to me.

The girls had begun the play, and I found I couldn't go there with them. I was never sexually attracted to femmes before my training, and I noticed that hadn't changed. What really distressed me was the fact I felt so close to everyone that afternoon. We shared intimate space. It was safe, sensitive and good. And yet I couldn't perform. Le Bear joined in the pile...but there was too much girl energy.

I quietly stepped into the other room. Uncle had been watching, and so followed me. She grabbed me...and I began to cry. I sobbed for quite a while, pretty much almost the whole length of what was a hot fisting scene. The bottom who received my boots wasn't playing with the others, and so she surrounded Uncle and I. They both held me, and encouraged my tears. One whispered in my ear..."this shows how good your training was. You are letting yourself be."

Thing is, interspersed with cathartic tears, was shame. Shame because I've spent years working on opening myself up, only to discover what seemed to be limiting, sexually. That's why I'm confused. I knew I had a primary gay male orientation. But I thought if the moment was right, I could open myself to anything, especially with amazing people around. It's a belief I hold onto.

Everyone was so good and kind. I was covered in love that day. Heading back downstairs, it was quite late. I needed to get home. Le Bear grabbed me and lifted me up, so I'd wrap my legs around him. He kissed me, and I felt a spark of my drive return, even though I was emotionally depleted. Looking at me he said, "This story (meaning he and I) isn't over." He then added, "just keep being the beautiful, nasty pig slut you are and I'll see you again."

Looking back, I can see lots of factors. I began bleeding that morning. Although it doesn't stop me from playing, apparently I was emotionally sensitive. There's also the fact of not having been in a thick, sexual space in a while. The anticipation of play. Being shown goodness, granted gifts, and the idea that I need to accept that with an open heart and hands.
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I wrote that piece early this morning, but chose not to publish it then.

This afternoon I had a therapy appointment, where I hashed it out with the shrink. He pretty much agreed with everything, and added some more. My therapist said that I needed to melt down regardless of who I played with. Because of the last couple years, it had to happen, either before or after a scene.

He also said it made sense that I couldn't play in that particular space. It wasn't my sexual orientation, and he didn't see a problem there. It would have been one thing if Le Bear and I alone. He told me I need actualization of who I am. Bluntly put...scene with fags again.
After I jump back into that pool, then he sees me becoming somewhat more flexible in my play.

Thing is, I intuited that a couple weeks ago. But because the day was smooth and rich, like chocolate, I pushed myself to continue and see. I wanted to remain open to whatever. And I couldn't follow through.

I'm trying to sit with all this, and it's pretty awkward. My shame came from furiously trying to fit within what the world says, instead of following who I am. Again, I allowed myself to feel diseased because in the past others have been un-at-ease with my identity.

So now, although I understand it intellectually, it still needs to become a part of me, grow into me. I have to feel it seep out through my pores.

Yesterday was a big day and I went on overload. I'm feeling better. There's still some stuff to sort out, but I plan on doing that tomorrow.
I am blessed.
Have a nice evening all.

Short and quick. It's my first day back at work.

Yesterday was amazing...and bizarre...and I was a puddle.
Quite complex. So much happened...including the passing on of Leathers, and a sharing of personal Leather history.
Honestly, I'm an emotional mess right now as well as confused.
Once I'm sorted more, and have time, I'll blog about it.

4 years ago this weekend...I met a man.

He is a canadian bear, from BC, Le Bear. I was up north, with a friend, and we crashed at his place. There was a queer play party going on, and we attended. Training with Sir began a month earlier, and so I couldn't do pain play...but enjoyed the sights.

Sunday afternoon, while sitting in his living room...Le Bear showed me his new toy.
He said, "look at Baby".

This was the largest dildo I'd seen, excluding the 3 foot high one from Provincetown many years ago. Baby was over a foot high, and a good 4 inches in diameter. He saw the excitement in my eyes and shoved it up against my cunt. I began grinding. My friend was across the room, on the laptop checking email. Next thing I knew, Le Bear grabbed my jeans, unzipped them, pushed them down to my ankles and shoved this monster dildo inside of me. I was grunting and moaning, wanting more of it...and began to cum.
My friend turned around, hearing my familiar sounds...and joined us...playing with my nipples while Le Bear is fucking and kissing me. Sweet.
Afterwards, while I'm peeing, Le Bear walked in and whips out his huge cock. "Bitch, look what you did to me." It's hard and thick.

Last night, I was invited to a small dinner party. There were seven of us. Le Bear was there. Other than seeing him for 5 minutes about 3 years ago...this was essentially the first time, since that afternoon delight 4 years ago, that we've spent together. After dinner, we were all hanging around. He looked at me. "You're thinking dirty thoughts, aren't you?"

I responded with a smile.

Leaning against the wall a while later, he came up to me and we began kissing. Le Bear is a fabulous kisser. He's pinching one of my nipples and I find myself cumming from the pain.. He rams his thigh between my legs and slaps my face repeatedly. Someone else joined the fray and started sucking the other nipple. He whispers... "see, you did it to me again." I reach down to grab his dick, and it's swollen. Yeah.

We played for a while, the three of us. I was on my way out the door before this began, due to becoming incredibly sleepy. The sex woke me up, and yet I was too tired to feel I was giving back. I found myself taking in all the pleasure...selfishly, as if I hadn't eaten in days. They appeared to be voracious in their attack, feeding off my hunger. They couldn't get enough as well.

Finally, we needed to break it up. But Le Bear informed me he wasn't leaving for BC until Monday. He asked me if I wanted to get beat.
"Oh yes!" He then asked if I wanted to get beat before getting fucked. "Do you want to ride Daddy?"

Shit yeah. But I told him that fucking had to come first. :-) Pain play is not foreplay for me. I'm too full afterwards.
I also warned him I hadn't played in quite a long time, and I may end up in pieces. He kissed and hugged me. His eyes twinkled.

I'm headed over there in a couple hours.

This morning I wake...and guess what? I'm bleeding. I'm 44 and it'll be nice when I move past my period.
But, I wasn't too traumatized. You see...my ass is hungry. And...I want to taste his dick.

Hardcore et al.

There's been a topic that a few bloggers have discussed. It was sparked by an interview with Joe Gallagher. Singletails and Edge both wrote about it. The interview as well as the discussion that ensued brought up big emotions for me. Honestly, it was what I alluded to yesterday when I wrote about SEAF. I finally put my thoughts in an email and sent it off to Edge, not sure if I'd even post it here. I didn't think another hashing would be productive. He gave me some sage advice and so now you see my thoughts, with some editing. Note that once again (like yesterday) I allude to WalMart because I fear the concept has invaded our lives in subtly negative ways, and honestly, can't think of a better example.

I wholeheartedly support more exclusive parties. Joe Gallagher spoke of returning to the magic of s/m and I believe it happens when you pull folks together who tend to have a similar intent in their play. It's not really found in parties where the doors are open to the public at large. In Baldwin's speech of a few years back, he spoke of exclusivity vs inclusivity. I believe there is room for both, and we need both. All should have access to an education. But play is personal. Simply having a large group that all wears leather and uses floggers does not mean that their play is similar.

What I do not support is the publicizing of specific events, while reiterating the fact of "invitation only". He appeared to be bragging about something not accessible to all. It feels vulgar, and in my opinion, shows a lack of good manners. It's one thing if he said "I attended Hardcore and had a great time." The continual emphasis on the aspect of the closed party isn't cool. Whether or not it was intentional, it was a primary focus.

Another thing is what felt like a discrepency in the article. He speaks about an energy, magic..and how you need to close the group to attain that. But, apparently, invitations can be extended. And so the group has to evolve as the circle gets larger and shifts. One invites 30 people and has a party. Maybe invitee number 29 then invites 2 people the next year. The third year, one of those 2 invite another. Generation upon generation. There is no guarantee of maintaining the energy the originator envisioned. Evolution. It can't stay the same.

Speaking as one who will never experience Inferno, Delta or essentially most runs unless fully private, due to the fact that I will not mess with my hormones simply to wrangle invitations, this whole hardcore event discussion has pushed buttons for me. Yeah, it brought up memories, mostly recent, of being left out because I choose not to get the 'M' on my driver's license.

I discover, instead of focusing on my present and lunging toward my future, I spent part of the week in the past, longing for what will not be.

A few mornings ago I was flooded with the memory of Sir telling me about a private run held by another, "yes, you belong...we all wanted you there. Your name kept coming up, and the boys clamored for you. But the organizer says no women...not even one exception can be made."

I am a passionate proponent of whatever decision needs to be made to keep space safe for certain groups, knowing full well it may hurt. So I had to step back, breathe and remind myself that I will find my place. I will create a small community of like-minded men who will see me as the player I am, regardless of my testosterone levels.

Many times, throughout training, one of Sir's messages was "we all must create our own community." He also informed me (actually it was a warning), before I signed my training contract, that my pool of players would rapidly shrink. Sir spoke of how selective I would become, and it is a good thing. How can exclusivity not happen when we are seeking connection and intimacy in our play?

Looking past the ickiness found in the article, there is a positive message. Gallagher encourages smaller groups to pop up all over. Sometimes I feel that as the popularity of s/m has increased, there is a WalMart (the spawn of Satan) way of thinking about Leather, and this is leading to the demise of the independent shop. With that, we get a beige world. As a painter who is a colorist, I need substance, not pallor. What powerfully drew me to s/m was the rawness, a reminder that sex is violent, and intimacy is found in the fire. I will not allow that fire to be extinguished.

I mentioned earlier this week that I wanted to write about the erotic art festival, but needed to sort out my thoughts. Since then, other stuff has come up and grabbed my attention, pushing the SEAF to the back.
Yesterday, while spending time with wonderboy, I was speaking of this other incident, and then made a link between it and the art.

The art festival was a lot of fun. There was a carnival atmosphere. Loads of people...happy, shiny people. The space was filled with all orientations. Vanilla and leather folk. Straight, gay leathermen, dykes, drag queens, trannies...and every permutation inbetween. Friday night, for the opening, it was suggested that attendees come in provocative attire. Some arrived in full fetish regalia. There were bodies almost completely nude and covered in paint. Latex, and mesh and leather abounded. I chose to wear my jeans, boots, t-shirt, and flagged black right. For me, I tend to find that the sexiest. It's simple, not showy and yet erotic. It apparently was provocative because some wondered why I wasn't dressed up. As a big ole party, the event was a smash. Now, that being said, here's my opinion on the art.

About 10 percent of the art was great quality. 20 percent...not so much, and the remaining art was average. There were over 1000 submissions of art, and the jurors chose 500 for the show. On one hand, more work was allowed to be seen. On the other, due to the walls being chock full of artwork, I discovered, from speaking with others, some brilliant pieces were missed.

As I wrote in the past, I chose not to submit pieces for this show. It doesn't mean I never will, just that it wasn't appropriate for me at this time.

I knew that the intent of the artists all varied. Their personal philosophies, regarding the work differed greatly. While speaking with wonderboy, it hit me that one big reason I wasn't showing my work is the same reason I don't play in large public play spaces. "How can we impress?" "How much leather can we show?" "How sexy can we make a work of art?"

From listening to a few artists over the weekend, I discovered that many played it safe in submitting work for the jury. Sad. As an artist, isn't it about taking chances and pushing your personal edge? The irony is, the theme "What Is Erotic?" opened up the floor to allow people to meet that challenge, and yet some artists chose the safe route, giving the public what was considered mainstream eroticism. As an artist, I find that idea disturbing. Bluntly, I feel that is the delineating line between an Artist and an artist. There are two ways to feed people. You can continue to open up a can of soup, knowing they'll find it comforting and it may fill their bellies. Or you can create an amazing spread with foreign tastes and textures. If people are brave enough to partake, not only will their bellies be filled, but their souls as well.

To me, there's a tendency to force the issue. It feels there's a loss of integrity in the work or the play. It's no longer about a mastery of the craft and intimate connection. Granted, special moments can be found anywhere if one remains open. But...I have to honestly say there was a WalMart feel to the show. Within that, there were a few pieces that grabbed me. Some I still think about. Yet why do I feel there was an overall sacrilegious attitude toward Art? Why have I had the same feeling at some open play parties I've attended in the past?

Okay, I'm a snob. I admit it. Those two questions feel as if it invalidates the experience of others, and yet I don't want it to. We each have different expectations and use varied measuring tools to judge whether or not something is right for us.
Also, going back to the cheesy cooking example, I know it's important to have bellies filled. When people aren't physically starving, then there's room for them to explore other types of nutrition.

Maybe my standards are too high. I know that in my own work, be it my painting, or my day gig, I push myself hard. I tend to lean toward perfectionism, and I'm fully aware that's detrimental. I also know I judge others as harshly as I judge myself. Not good.

So, aware of that, I am looking at the past weekend in many different lights.

The positives:

-Great party. People had fun, and we all need more fun in our lives.

-It exposed more people to the world of art.

-I met some really groovy people and saw new work I am totally hot for.

-There were pieces that challenged the viewer's perception of eroticism.

-Artists who may have never shown work, had an opportunity to show, and to sell.

-Everyone I spoke with said they could only find a few pieces that were erotic. That speaks well of the jury, because it shows they allowed for great diversity when selecting the show. There was something for everyone.

One more step forward.

Mass. High Court Rules for Gay Marriage

By JENNIFER PETER
Associated Press Writer
Feb 4, 12:46 PM EST

BOSTON (AP) -- The Massachusetts high court ruled Wednesday that only full, equal marriage rights for gay couples - rather than civil unions - are constitutional, clearing the way for the nation's first same-sex marriages in the state as early as May...

...After seven gay couples sued in 2001, the Supreme Judicial Court ruled in November that gay couples have a constitutional right to marry, and gave the Legislature six months to change state laws to make it happen.

But the vague wording of the ruling left lawmakers - and advocates on both sides - uncertain if Vermont-style civil unions would satisfy the court's decision.

The Massachusetts court said any civil unions bill that falls short of marriage would establish an "unconstitutional, inferior, and discriminatory status for same-sex couples."

The state Senate asked for more guidance from the court, whose advisory opinion was made public Wednesday morning when it was read into the Senate record."

Read the whole thing.

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First, your weekly dose of Rob Brezsny.

And now, this tasty morsel from Mark Morford.
"...Daddy, why does that f--- politician hate women's breasts? Because he's a s-- and a hypocrite, honey."

I just knew that Morford would have some delicious spewing on the hypocritical bullshit surrounding Janet's nipple. Personally, I've been digusted how the media has made such a friggin' deal out of this. I seriously believe that yes, some were offended, but I'm over the media throwing fuel on every little tidbit in their attempt to squeeze as much juice, or in this case milk, as they can. I'm also so done with the hyper sensitive feminist thought that if there appears to be exploitation, it must be the fault of the testosterone-ridden segment of our species.

I am so friggin' tired that my joints ache. So this is a blog-lite.
Another incredibly full day...including a couple hours at work (yes, during my vacation), and then a kickass evening with Bondage top talking art and checking loads of images for a new painting. After dinner at Septieme's, he and I went back to his place where we picked out a whopping amount of stuff. He then kindly burned them onto a cd for me. I hope to begin his painting within the next few weeks.

My entry on the 2nd annual Seattle Erotic Art Festival will have to wait until I'm more rested. In the meantime, check out Drub's take on SEAF.

I'll leave you with a large ad I spotted on the side of a bus yesterday:

92% of women carry lip protection. 10% of women carry HIV protection.

Phew! It's been a very full 4 days. I spent most of the weekend at SEAF, which meant late night dinners, then crawling into bed when I got home, only to get up, somehow wake up, and do it again. Being flooded and overwhelmed with visual stimuli and massive amounts of thoughts regarding art, the question of erotic, as well as immersion in crowds have left me fully depleted. Today wasn't the time to regroup. I was spending the whole day with Tattoo'd Bear, checking out boots, chaps and leather jackets. We drove east of Seattle to hit one shop, to the west for another, and then to south, south Seattle. Tomorrow, I have a few appointments and then I'm getting together with Bondage Top, regarding an idea I have for my series, and how I want to paint him. Hmmm...so I guess that means I can crash on Wednesday, take a slow morning and then hit my studio in the afternoon.

I'll be back at some point with info on the festival. The new thoughts that have developed are pretty exciting and I want to share it with you.