Tuesday, January 31, 2006

I have a HUGE amount on my plate right now and need to focus on task upon task upon task at hand.
Hopefully I can get through most of it today. We’ll see.

Four more work days before my sabbatical.
Yes I'm very excited.

This is all you get from me today.
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about yesterday's teaser.

In the meantime, play nice amongst yourselves. ;-)
RIP Coretta Scott King

Civil Rights Leader dies at 78

"Long before she met and married Dr. King, she was an activist for peace and civil rights and for civil liberties,...She became the embodiment, the personification (of the civil rights movement after Dr. King's death) ... keeping the mission, the message, the philosophy ... of nonviolence in the forefront." - Rep. John Lewis

Monday, January 30, 2006

Happy Monday~

I'm not sure when I will have time for a regular update today although when I do...it may involve sleepsacks, blowjobs and Buffy. ;-)

In the meantime, Eric Francis' monthly horoscope is up a little early.
Enjoy his February Planet Waves and Inner Space writings.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Last night

This morning

(photos courtesy of a good friend, Gryphon MacThoy. Thanks dude!)

Gay Pride

While listening to the voting for HB2661 yesterday tears welled up and then flowed when I realized we won. From there, the whoopin' and hollerin' began in the office.

Last night, Aubrey and I attended the celebration at the Paramount Theater. There was a large crowd at the entrance, waiting. The gay pride flag entered first. A shout went up through the crowd and we all followed the flag into the lobby of this grand theater.

Only 4 or 5 times in my life have I experienced the overwhelming energy that filled me. The first time was in the early '80's. It was my very first gay pride parade. I was in Boston. The second was even more powerful because a few years later, I had the honor of being part of New Hampshire's very first Pride rally. Such a small group with such big feeling.

Texas vs. Lawrence was the next.

Then...last night.

No, it's not over. We can bet our lives that this will go to referendum. We can't rest. We can never rest.

But last night was a time for celebration. People were hungry to gather with others who would understand and appreciate what this struggle means. The emotion and electricity in the room was powerful.

I then cried because I knew my family would never understand. Yes, I could tell them. They'd say "congratulations, that's nice." But they wouldn't get it. They and many others, have no idea.

You gotta hear "fuckin' dyke" mumbled under someone's breath as you walk by. You have to know the feel of hiding all traces of queerness in your apartment, just so your landlord can enter to fix the plumbing problem. If you don't, there's a good chance of being evicted...and you'd have no recourse. You have to stand to the side and keep your mouth shut while listening to coworkers make faggot jokes because you just finally got the job and haven't had the time to prove yourself yet. You need to eat and pay rent. You have to enter the gay bar in groups because if you don't, the group of men across the street will throw rocks at the poor schmucks who are naive enough to not consider the impact of walking alone into the bar. You have to feel your heart break when a family member died of AIDS in '90 and everyone was told he died of cancer because of fear of stigma and ostracism. The funeral carried little honor to the man and instead was sugar-coated for the comfort of others. To this day it still hurts.

You will never forget the rage that boils because you can't safely walk down the street hand in hand with the person you love while you see heterosexuals all around you publicly display affection and love for their partners.

I'm fortunate now. I'm no longer a shiny new queer. I now live in a place where I don't have to hide who I am. I'm old enough and financially set enough and more importantly, strong enough...so it is different for me now. And yet, I will never forget. All I need to do is close my eyes and I can feel the pain. And remember. And think of all the people who didn't even have the same access to community that I did. The isolation, the total aloneness. The fear. The confusion. The terror.

All I have to do is experience a night like last night.
Then I remember.

Friday, January 27, 2006

yeas, 25; nays, 23; absent, 0; excused, 1

HB2661 just passed!!!!

I was watching the legislative proceedings on livestream...and the bill passed in the Senate!
The Real Gay Agenda

Mark Morford's column is quite timely considering it appears our state legislature may vote in HB2661 today.

"Do you know what it is? Do you want to know the real gay agenda, what 96.8 percent of all gay couples wish for every single day including Sunday? Here it is:

From what I can glean and above all else, the gay people of America seem to want this simply inexcusable level of boundless, unchecked normalcy. It's true. For some reason, they believe the utterly disgusting idea that they should be able to live their lives in peace and trust and health, with full support and assistance from their schools and hospitals and government, just like everyone else. I know. Shudder.

It is, in fact, remarkably similar to what heteros want. And women. And black people. And immigrants. And dwarves. That is, to be able to fall in love and maybe even get married (or at least have the option) and have decreasing amounts of sex and raise a family and hold down a good job and pay their taxes and argue with their lovers over who the hell spent 200 bucks on long distance to their mother, all while not having to worry about getting the living crap beaten out of them with tire chains by Arkansas and Alabama and most of Texas, or secretly loathed by small-minded pseudo-Christians who wouldn't know Jesus' true message if it bit them on the other cheek."

Morford wrote in response to nastiness he received for touting Brokeback Mountain in his earlier column this week. Read the rest of Here Is The Big Gay Agenda.
HB2661 may very well be voted in on Friday!
Locations for potential statewide celebrations planned!

Hot off the press, for Washington State residents - regarding Friday's possible passage of a long very overdue equal rights bill - H2661

(For a little more info on the Bill, here is the link to the specific bill from the WA State Legislature website as well as an article from Planet Out.)

From my work email:

If HB2661 passes, join the celebration Friday night!

Tomorrow night we hope to be celebrating the passage of HB 2661 statewide. If the bill passes, here are details on some of the planned celebrations:

Bellingham: 5 PM at Taco Lobo, 117 W Magnolia Street
Kitsap County: 6:30 PM at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Bremerton
Olympia: 5 PM at Plenty's Restaurant, Downtown Olympia
Seattle: 6 PM at Paramount Theatre, 911 Pine Street
Spokane: 6 PM at Rainbow Regional Community Center, 508 West 2nd Avenue
Tacoma: 5:30 PM at Tempest, 913 MLK
Tri-Cities: 6 PM at Center for Positive Living, 210 East 3rd Avenue, Kennewick
Wenatchee: 7:30 PM (Saturday) at Cellar Cafe (SHINE Event), 246 N Mission Street
Yakima: 6 PM at Rainbow Cathedral MCC, 225 North 2nd; 7 PM at First Street Conference Center, 223 North 1st Street

The celebration in Seattle is being sponsored by Equal Rights Washington, The Pride Foundation, Lifelong AIDS Alliance, Greater Seattle Business Association, The Task Force, The Human Rights Campaign, Rep. Ed Murray, Rep. Joe McDermott, and others.

We expect that a few more cities will have these celebrations; we will send you information as soon as we have it.

Hoping for a great victory tomorrow!

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Notes and a painting…

~My car, a white Corolla, now looks like a dalmation. It also looks as if it was on the set when Hitchcock’s “The Birds” was being filmed.

~Getting ready to go on vacation for a week means much extra work before leaving. To leave for 4 weeks is well…you do the math.
I am exhausted.

~I feel so confident in my replacement that there is no anxiety about being away from my job for a month. Relief!

~I can't wait for the shrink to return. So much has happened in the last week and a half. I miss my outlet.

~Someone want to come over and do laundry for me?

~I have to scrounge up a bio for LLC. This will be interesting.

~I've somewhat planned the first week of my sabbatical. Ideally, I would love to spend the first four days at Easton Mountain. No phones, no tv, no computer, no radio, no newspapers. The quiet and calm is greatly needed. But because I'll be in NYC in April, I can't afford another trip right now.
Instead, I'll stay home, do absolutely nothing (but clean my apartment) the first few days. Then I'll turn it into a painting studio. Day after, I'll stock up on supplies. I plan on diving into painting by the end of the first week.

~Damn I'm tired.

Want to see another painting?

When I used to take vacations to paint, one beautiful fall week in New England, I found myself too tired to think of painting in oils. At the time, I was painting outdoors, around the NH seacoast. So I opted for watercolor. As I positioned myself to paint I realized I was much too tired to even use color. The decision was made to do small black and white watercolors. This piece came from that week.

I was sitting on the corner of Bow Street in Portsmouth, NH. The full sheet is 11x14. Being too tired to paint big, I masked off the page into various sizes.

These are part of what I call my zen paintings. No thinking. Open my eyes and be aware of light and line - react to it with my gut, my belly, my cunt.

I'd work very quickly, using only black paint and some graphite while the paint was still wet.

When the area would be too wet, I'd jump to another, and then back again. These would never be one at a time paintings.

I enjoyed engaging and focusing on what appeared mundane. Shafts of light hitting corners. Simple shape of a doorway. Seriously sexy.

This page, with others, are all hanging on my mom's wall in MA. I don't have the heart to take them back. Each little painting is separated, matted with large archival cream mats and framed, filling a wall.

I could never decide if I preferred the page as a whole or each image as a unique painting.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

It's Wednesday!
Yes, I will give you our weekly Wednesday horoscope and column but first, a much needed venting~

The last two days have been chock full of some of the most intense work problem-solving I've had to deal with. I am aghast and agog at what hoops I needed to jump through to access what I considered to be simple calendar year 2005 4th quarter payroll deduction information for some donors who gave to us via their workplace campaigns. Attempting to contact the appropriate person in the appropriate office with a failed attempt at first being connected with a MAJOR corporation's human resources department left me sputtering and furious.

The lunacy began when I called corporate headquarters for said company and the operator informed me that extension listings were for names only. It was not broken down by department. "I'm sorry I can't help you unless you give me a name."

I couldn't and still can't believe the idiocy, the ignorance and the lack of efficient systems set in place so non-profits can receive accurate information and in doing so, better serve our donors.

Want the somewhat vague example?

Well, I'm working on year end tax receipt letters. I noticed that for 50 of our donors, with a combined annual pledge of almost $20,000 (not a small chunk of change), I had yet to receive the 4th qtr check, and therefore couldn't credit them for their full 2005 gift. I understand that we won't receive the check until the end of January but I know full well the payroll deductions had been completed and therefore somewhere, someplace in our god-forsaken country, tied up in red tape and bureaucracy, lay a spreadsheet - a simple list of what was pulled for our donors in that quarter.

That is all I desired.

(Now I know full well that if someone gives via United Way or most of the workplace campaigns, they receive the tax receipt from that campaign. But unfortunately, one corporation switched and now the rules have changed. The money goes from the employeee to a trustee account and then to the nonprofit. The recipient organization is responsible for doling out the receipts. When I was notified of the change in June, I knew it would be an issue. I brought up the problem of the 4th qtr lists and was reassured that we would receive the data in a timely manner. And then I forgot all about it. Until Monday.)

2 days.
2 very long days to track and receive the information. This included, but was not limited to, googling for addresses and contact information. It included many automated email replies. It included deadends.

Before the list was FINALLY emailed to me, I had received the most ludicrous of many ridiculous reasons stated in two days as to why they believed I really didn't need the information now.

"Ma'am, the donors should get credit for the gift when the organization receives the check. Therefore that deduction from their pay ought to be applied to 2006."

I was stunned.

Taking a deep breath and expending much energy to remain calm (seeing this was the icing on a multi-tiered cake that is leaning more than the Tower of Pisa) I said through gritted teeth:

"You mean to tell me that if a donor chose to mail us $10,000 on December 15th but we didn't receive the check until sometime in January then he would not be allowed that tax deduction on his 2005 taxes??????"

"Well, when you put it that way...I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thank you. I look forward to receiving the names and payouts."


Want to know what made me even crazier? I am NOT the only person from the only 501(c)3 who needs this information. Hasn't anyone else gone through this tangled maze? Hasn't anyone else dealt with this? We aren't dealing with fly by night small organizations. The management for charitable payroll deduction is being handled by one of the leading companies responsible for philanthropic giving. They contract with many major corporations.

I kept walking into our CFO's office asking "am I crazy? Am I asking for too much? Am I off base? Why is it everyone I spoke with doesn't seem to understand why I need what I need?"

He worked to keep me calm.

Now I have the info, and need to work it into my own spreadsheets. It will be done by today. I'm still shaking my head over this mess.

Let's go on to fun stuff.

This week's Freewill Astrology by Rob Brezsny and Mark Morford's column. Today Morford writes about Bush's excessive use of signing statements.

An excerpt:

" How about how Bush's insane rate of issuing those now-infamous "signing statements," those little firebombs of judicial misprision wherein your mumbling president gets to reserve for himself the right to ignore any law he signs -- yes, any law he desires: anti-torture, surveillance, you name it -- whenever he feels like it, if he deems that law unconstitutional. Screw Congress. Screw the system of law. And screw, well, you.

For the record: Ronald Reagan issued 71 signing statements during his unholy term. Bill Clinton issued 105 over the span of eight years. Bush 41 signed off on 146, the previous record.

And Dubya? Well, little George has slapped his color-crayon signature on over 500 signing statements so far, reserving his right to disregard the law more times than all former American presidents combined. It is a record. It is a disgusting abuse of power. It is another thing to stack on the pile o' embarrassment for our nation. Shall we see how high we can go before we topple and implode?"

Read Horse Sex Porn Candy Teens! for the entire article.

Monday, January 23, 2006

So cool!!!

Last night I received an email from someone who had stumbled upon my blog and read my entry on being held.

He has a webpage called Candide's Notebooks - A Daily Portal to Minds without Borders. Within that, he has a section called Best of Blogs roundup. It's a revolving set of links and blurbs.

Well Pierre Tristam, the man who wrote me, said my entry was "curiously absorbing" and mentioned he was going to put it in his best of blogs section. :-)

It's there. In the link, Mr. Tristam calls the post disquieting. Personally, I like that.

I'm not sure how long it will stay up, but it feels good to be recognized for an entry that felt risky to even write. I had been working on a holding entry for almost three weeks and was never happy with it. Saturday morning, my fingers flew across the keyboard and I saw the difference. The original was a chunky strangled piece, made so because I worked hard at maintaining a personal distance from my words. The entry that went up just became.

Who woulda thunk?

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Intimacy ~
Thoughts on holding and being held.

My shrink is gone for two weeks. This is the first time that the abandonment stuff isn't coming up. Refreshing? Quite.

I've been taking serious risks in therapy. Dangerous for me.

For a long time I knew that a big part of my healing would involve being held. I didn't want to go there with him. He never suggested it. Instead, it was a still quiet voice within me that with time, became louder and more insistent. I hesitated because I thought maybe that type of work would be more appropriate with a sacred intimate instead of a psychoanalyst. I was concerned with boundaries. I was terrified that if I got the courage to ask, he'd deny my request. If so, it would smack of old wounds.

We finally talked about it. We looked at all the risks and what may come up. We looked at stuff around boundaries.

Then one day, in a small, scared voice, I said:

"Would you please hold me? I need to be held."

He came over to the couch and sat next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and I laid my head on his chest.
There I stayed. For the remainder of the session.

There is very little talking. No movement except breathing. And the strong healing feel of being wrapped in someone's arms.

I've asked a few times since the first hold. Each time is just as scary as the last. I thought I needed to budget the holding, as if I was only allowed 4 a year. Yeah...old stuff.

When I received the news about my friend's suicide, I again asked to be held. To be so comforted while in a fresh pain was new. And it's still difficult for me to relax in.

I am not comfortable or used to being held. I have memories of being kissed or hugged, but absolutely no memories of being held as a child. I have memories of mom sitting on a chair or in bed with all of us curled up around her as she told us stories or sang songs. I remember her teaching me to make playdough and then how to sculpt little animals.

I remember how she gathered us together during a thunderstorm and told us how beautiful the rain and lightening was. Later on I realized that due to a bad accident, she was terrified of thunderstorms and didn't want to impart that fear to us. So she turned it into a pleasant time...and therefore a comforting memory.

There was much love.

And I don't remember being held.

The earliest time that comes to mind is when I was about 22. A friend was holding me because I had just realized I may be queer and it freaked me out. They held me while I cried. A. held me in his arms a few times while I was in training. The Bear and bunny have held me.

As much as I desired it, needed it, I couldn't fully relax in it.

No memories of my kid being held.

I wondered about holding. I wondered not only about me, but all of us. How often are you held? I don't mean after sex or while sleeping with a partner, although that's important too.

But how often are we each held...long, 10 minute, 20 minute or longer holds, when we are simply feeling scared, lonely, or having a bad day?

Are we a society that isn't comfortable with holding? Or is the lack of holding relegated to the pathetic few of us with broken childhoods?

To have someone wrap their arms around you and hold you. No talking. Breathing together...for the better part of an hour is intense. In addition to some of the S/M play I do, this also is new edge play for me.

To learn how to relax in someone's arms, without my heart beating quickly, is a huge lesson in trust for me.

I'm a hugger. Full body hugs are brilliant. Shoulders, chest, belly, groin, legs touching. Or as much as possible given body type.

Most people aren't comfortable with such touching.

I love, love, love those full body hugs. There have been moments where the other person and myself are in a synched-openness. Those hugs, with nothing else, have culminated in lightening charged orgasms. Our bodies, held together by our arms entwined, create one massive visibly shaking cumming machine.

The electricity!

I have held others. I love holding and comforting. Yet to be held in return is frightening. I'm in a very vulnerable space when I need holding. The emotions are big and churning. I am terrified that I'll contaminate the holder with my intensity or my vast neediness. The next natural step is they would push me away. I then believe I am too much for others.

My last session, I again gathered up my nerve and asked to be held. You see, I could feel myself constructing a wall that day. He was leaving for a couple weeks and so I didn't want to open up. I figured I could coast through the session, not feel anything, and then we'd pick up upon his return. But I finally asked.

I think I surprised the shrink. He commented that he thought my stubborness would win out and I'd keep my mouth shut.
I know I surprised myself.

He held me. This may have been the longest stretch. A couple times, I almost got up because it felt too intimate and it scared me. But I continued to even my breath and push through the fear. By the end, I was finally beginning to relax. In doing so, I knew that he wouldn't abandon me. And with that knowledge, I also knew that I could begin to rewrite my history so my old hurts and wounds would no longer have the same power.

I left that session with a new budding insight that was beginning to grow in my heart.
I felt the glimmer I was worthy of being held. I too was a person.

In that moment, I did not feel invisible.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Big headlines in the SeattlePI's print edition:

Google refuses U.S. demand for search data -
Microsoft, Yahoo! and AOL have complied

SAN FRANCISCO - Google Inc. is rebuffing the Bush administration's demand for a peek at what millions of people have been looking up on the Internet's leading search engine -- a request that underscores the potential for online databases to become tools for government surveillance...

Check out the rest of the article.
You know it's going to be a great Morford column when it begins with:

"There is this theory, more of a truism really, tossed about like a fuzzy beach ball by the gurus and the masters and the mystics since Jesus was but a lint ball of possibility in the Great Belly Button of Time."

Damn. Isn't that just the prettiest, grooviest image?

I want to copy the whole damned thing, but I'll refrain from doing so. Instead, go read Sam Alito On Brokeback Mountain - What do the bitter neocon nominee and the amazing Oscar-bound film have in common?

Thursday, January 19, 2006


...not one of my most flattering shots. But it's perfect for the entry. Aubrey checked in with me to make sure it was okay...and I said it was fine. I laughed when I saw it.

Want to see a silly photo of me? I opted for the bowtie because I was in celebration mode.

I’ve wanted to highlight something new but haven’t had the opportunity or energy until now.

The Field Mice Project and a new blog.

The $25,000 endowment was raised for the Tony DeBlase Scholarship in December 2004. In December 2005, we received a surprise check from a family foundation of $2,500.00 for the scholarship. Then on its heels, another check of $500 from someone else. These two gifts re-energized the project and Aubrey has decided to work toward increasing the endowment to $50,000. The larger the endowment, the larger the annual scholarships awarded.

Being a community endowed scholarship fund, he desired to provide more info so the community that supports the project can learn more about it. Aubrey revamped the scholarship site, which now includes the thank you letter from the first recipient, Aidan Key, as well as other goodies.

His new campaign for fundraising is the Field Mice project. The idea came from the Wizard of Oz books (not the film).

In conjunction with the Field Mice project, Aubrey created a new blog. Pop over, check it out, link to it...and drop Aubrey a line to say hi. :-)

Or better yet, donate your $5.00 latte money to a scholarship that promotes further research and education for human sexuality.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

"Artist and meditator alike ultimately aspire to an original act."

(Originally I was going to post only the horoscope and Morford's column...but one thing led to another.)

It's Wednesday and time for Rob Brezsny's Freewill Astrology.

Today's column by Mark Morford appears strongly provoked by the JT LeRoy controversy. Who is JT LeRoy you ask? Well, New York Magazine asked the same question in A search for the true identity of a great literary hustler.

Morford goes off in I Wanna Be A Crackhead Author - Hello, I am an ex-hooker heroin addict with AIDS who eats live puppies. Please read my book.

I have, of course, my own opinions but haven't the time to deal with a response yet. This is because I haven't fully immersed myself in all that's been written. Keeping that in mind, my immediate reaction is "bravo JT!".

I understand the feelings of betrayal, dismay, disappointment and rage by his readers but on the other hand, as strongly as I'll fight for free speech, I will fight for the right for someone to concoct and imagine. Even if it bugs me.

All art distorts reality. It's our own personal truth. When we choose to engage, I say "buyer beware."

We are so hungry for solid truth, for something that connects us to this planet, for something that screams we aren't alone...and maybe to read of something that resonates to then discover it was a farce...can be somewhat traumatic.

Thing is, whatever connection was made is real. It doesn't matter if the source morphs or disappears.

Nothing is permanent. Within the fluidity and a life filled with constant change we cannot deny those moments when we are moved. It's about the energy.

And on that note, here's a thought from my morning email:

Great Art and Great Dharma

"The artist's dilemma and the meditator's are, in a deep sense, equivalent. Both are repeatedly willing to confront an unknown and to risk a response that they cannot predict or control. Both are disciplined in skills that allow them to remain focused on their task and to express their response in a way that will illuminate the dilemma they share with others. And both are liable to similar outcomes.

The artist's work is prone to be derivative, a variation on the style of a great master or established school. The meditator's response might tend to be dogmatic, a variation on the words of a hallowed tradition or revered teacher. There is nothing wrong with such responses. But we recognize their secondary nature, their failure to reach the peaks of primary imaginative creation. Great Art and Great Dharma both give rise to something that has never quite been imagined before. Artist and meditator alike ultimately aspire to an original act."

-Stephen Batchelor, Tricycle: The Buddhist Review, Vol. IV, #2

"Artist and meditator alike ultimately aspire to an original act."

I love that thought.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

I'm running behind.

How about January's horoscope from Eric Francis?
This is where you can find Planet Waves, and click here for Francis' Inner Space 'scope.
From an article on last night's Golden Globes:

"I know as actors our job is usually to shed our skins, but I think as people our job is to become who we really are and so I would like to salute the men and women who brave ostracism, alienation and a life lived on the margins to become who they really are." - Felicity Huffman
I’ve been regrouping.

The weekend was busy, really great, gave me much to think about and wiped me out. Yesterday was a lazy day with no talking.

I'm still not up for talking so right now I have no idea where my next entry of substance will come from.

Today I begin training my replacement. We have about 2 1/2 weeks. In addition, I'm planning a small event and need to deal with the prep of that. On Sunday I was invited to sit on a panel for the Leather Leadership Conference in April. It looks as if I will be in NYC sooner than I expected!

The panel idea excited me. When I mentioned it to my shrink yesterday, he grinned and said that with my experience, I was more than qualified to speak on that subject. Until things are finalized, I will stay vague about the topic for the panel discussion.

Somehow, life is speeding up, and capturing more in the vortex. I just need to find a way of accessing some energy to keep up with the spinning.

Saturday, January 14, 2006


Yes, here is another of my paintings.
This is one of my very few paintings that has a name.

Today, before settling into a very busy weekend, I feel like telling a story.
My longtime readers will recognize parts of this.

Once upon a time I met a girl. She was brilliant, tough, and had a sexual appetite that matched mine. She had an MFA in literature, a singer/songwriter, now has 2 cd's out, and can play a steamin' guitar.

For 7 much too short weeks we fucked. In between our day gigs, we fucked, we listened to music, we fucked, we drove to her radio interviews (because her first cd had just been released), had sex on the road, hit open mikes, concerts. Fucked, fucked and fucked. Down in Boston she opened for Richie Havens. I had a fun evening sitting with the sound guy for Richie's set and learned about the board.

Many times we'd bring the toy bag with us. Sometimes, we'd bring a book of sex stories, and while one was driving the other would read, exchanging the names in the stories for our names.

We spent a few evenings where she'd work on her music or promo packs while I'd be in the studio painting. She challenged me, pushed me.
A few times we'd fool around while working and as the temp was rising, and I'd get to the edge, she'd stop, push me into my studio... and suggested I paint. Channel our sexual lust into brushstrokes and color.

It was the very first relationship where I felt we were equals. I wasn't teaching or guiding or even more importantly, I didn't have to diminish who I was so the other party didn't feel threatened. Unfortunately, my past relationships required that I temper myself. She excelled in her music, and I could explore myself in painting.

The relationship ended as suddenly as it began. No notice.
A door had opened and then a door slammed shut.
I was left reeling.

Early on, she was looking at my paintings and wondered about my palette. She asked about all the colors I used and how they felt to me. Then...

"You don't use red. Why?"
"Yes I do. For accents."
"I dare you to do a red painting."

I picked up the challenge.

This is the painting born of a dare.

I remember working on the piece, quickly painting, not thinking. At one point I grabbed my brush and laid down the large turquoise shape. It scared me because it felt so bold. I grabbed another brush, ready to wipe it out when she walked into the studio.

"Don't do it. Leave it."

A year and a half later I moved to Seattle. A gallery director contacted me to book a show for the following year.
I created 10 new pieces, and he also grabbed 15 from my home.

All I did was ship the work to my family. I was pleased to have this show but didn't want to deal with any details. You see, at that point, I figured my job was done. I had painted.

So I requested my family price and title the work.

This painting was named by my 17 year old niece, the jazz singer. At the time, she was about 9 years old...a few years into her music. She called me, excited that she had come up with a title for the painting.

"I noticed when all the paintings were laid out, and we were all gathered around looking, everyone saw something different in this particular painting."
She continued, "so I decided the name of the painting was Freedom."


On many levels it is.

When I look at the painting it feels immature and unsophisticated. And it was the first time I painted in the unknown. No direction or clear vision. My niece was correct. It is about freedom. It was the first time I channeled my sexual energy into my work. It was the first time I dared expose more of myself on canvas.

This piece was a leap forward, and therefore will always hold a special place in my heart...

...as the moment of conception was also a sacred time.
Friday the 13th...is the night for my second birthday dinner.

Yes, it's belated, seeing my birthday was last Friday. That was a wonderful, very small, private affair with chosen family. It's been a busy week. What can I say?
Except...tonight was also a fabulous evening...

I may write more tomorrow. If not then, you may have to wait until Monday. My weekend is going to be full. It will be spent in the dark, jurying over 1300 submissions for the Seattle Erotic Art Festival. Two very big days coming up.

My heart is full. My naughty bits squishy.

Thank you everyone.

Friday, January 13, 2006

It's all about the questions~

In This Is Your Brain On Tech, Mark Morford asks a brilliant question: With a mind crammed with gizmo jargon, where's the room for sex and love and deep, earthly knowing?

From his column:

Is there some sort of threshold? As I gain a working knowledge of 2.1 versus 5.1 surround-sound home-theater systems and pick up a tiny shred of basics about ohm impedance, sound stage and speaker "floor," am I pushing out dazzling insights into the human drama? Fond memories of my childhood? The taste of roast duck with fresh thyme in a red wine/pomegranate reduction?

Verily, as I race through the mad wonderland of modern tech like Mary-Kate Olsen through a bottle of tequila, am I limiting my ability to learn, once in my life, the fine art of dendrology? Orchid taxonomies? Whale song? Do I still have sufficient intellectual space to learn conversational French or to bake superlative croque monsieurs or build my own fine oak furniture? Is it too late? Am I frying all my wiring? Or maybe, just maybe, helping it all function better?

Read the whole thing. It's a really good one today.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Maybe I'm going to ramble.

My heart is so full of so much that I don't know how to untangle everything to make sense of it. I picked up my second Sigur Ros cd last week and am playing it for the first time. Maybe the music will assist with coherency.

The friend who died is still sitting in my heart. As A. replied, when I informed him of the death, "I bet we will never know why his heart broke."

Powerful statement.
I've been thinking a lot about it. There is truth there.

Suicide is caused by a final broken heart. I am not speaking of broken hearts from broken romances. But the life altering ultimate brokenness of one's heart/one's mind/one's spirit.

I wonder where my friend's heart is now. I wonder if he's finally feeling some sense of peace, of joy. I wonder and hope beyond hope that he has finally achieved, or begun to attain some healing.

And I know that hoping does not will my wishes into being.

In therapy yesterday, in the middle of a bunch of stuff that is meant for another entry, I blurted "Where is his heart now?"

My shrink responded with a quiet smile.
"Now that is a lovely question."
He then answered my question with a question...which right now I can't remember.
Then he said "a part of his heart is here."
"How do you know that?"
"What's on your face right now?"

My face was drenched.

I didn't want to believe that my friend's despairing and sorrowful heart fractured and continues to be connected to each one of us. I still don't want to believe that. But a part of me knows it to be true.

Instead, the bulk of my being clings to the fantasy that he can simply disappear in bliss and quiet. And in that, I can grab the comfortable not the painstricken part of him.

There is so much food in this that I know at some point the shrink and I will continue this conversation in greater depth. I value his ideas even when they clash with my own. It opens up my world and from there, I can listen to my own heart to gain my truth.

Maybe I am slowly unravelling some of my twisted thoughts.

In the meantime, I'll sit in the deep feeling and unknowing.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

I'm running very late today. It's been a very intense couple days beginning with a therapy session on Monday that didn't feel heavy, until I stepped out the door. Then I found myself filled with increasing rage. Yes. Quite interesting.

Yesterday, I received a phone call and was informed that a friend of mine, here in Seattle, shot himself last week. Yes, I'm writing about it somewhat matter of factly, but that's not what's going on inside. And yes, I'm dealing with it. And yes, it's...whatever. Maybe soon I'll share more. For now, it remains this small blurb on the screen.

Today's session was...shall we say hot? Definitely heated. I've been carrying my friend's photo in my pocket since I received the news. It was a photo of him, holding his partner and myself in a hug. In the shrink's office, I pulled it out at placed it on the coffeetable. Then the music came on, and I slid it back into my coat pocket.

Taking a deep breath...and on to other things...

Here is Rob Brezsny's Freewill Astrology for this week...

Today in Does 'Narnia' Actually Suck? Mark Morford writes:

Truly, I was of the mind that the "Narnia" books, to my dreamy, rose-colored memory, were these insanely rich and ingenious tales, dense and deeply involved anecdotes of children exploring a phenomenally magical world that was so utterly not of this grungy, terrestrial plane it might as well have been Pluto. Like many, my time-addled vision elevated the books to the status of utter genius, largely due to the feeling of unchecked awe I can still recall them providing. And I was absolutely sure Hollywood would rape that memory for all the pseudo-Christian bullcrap and Burger King tie-ins it possibly could.

I was wrong. Sort of. Hollywood didn't actually ruin "Narnia." Hollywood didn't cheapen it all that much, or reduce it down or remove much of the original majesty by injecting it with too much CGI and not enough heart. Rather, Hollywood has done something even more depressing: It's revealed "The Chronicles of Narnia" books to be what they actually are: a rather lean slice of delightfully wrought but fairly simpleminded, largely hobbled fantasy for the imagination-deprived single-digit set.

Monday, January 09, 2006


Today begins my very busy 3 weeks. Within this madness I will take Thursday and Friday off. One for my birthday (because we get our bday off with pay and yet I was immersed in an all day staff retreat on mine)...and the other because that same retreat cut into some owed holiday time. It's crazy to take the time...but it's a use or lose situation. And it will be a busy weekend for me. More on that later.

It looks as if I will be getting my sabbatical in February. We are 95% sure. Next week I begin our massive project of pulling reports, printing and sending out over 3,000 donor year end tax receipt letters for 2005 giving. Then I jump into training my replacement. The cliff notes version of my job. It will be interesting. I am hugely trusting there will be no complex donor gifts while I'm gone. I've begun to warn everyone to give me their needed report requirements for February now. I'll pull them now or create detailed how-to's so another can pull the queries.

5 weeks away from work is complex. Once the kinks are worked out, it will be good. And greatly needed.

Yes, I am clearly planning on painting. Can't do anything else but that.

I've reconciled myself to the fact that my beautiful, nesty, cozy, warm and loving apartment is going to be turned into full-blown studio for 4 weeks. Normally it wouldn't be a problem except in doing so, I lose my beautiful, nesty, cozy, warm and loving space. It's not big enough to have both. I can deal for a limited amount of time. I'm fooling my head into thinking that I'm an artist-in-residence somewhere, where I wouldn't have access to my beautiful, nesty, cozy, warm and loving apartment anyway.

Life is interesting, eh?

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Part 2.

Here are the paintings I promised in tonight's earlier entry. They are older pieces.
Tonight I have no words to explain or describe these.
They are what they are.

Have a look.

Alone not lonely.

An excerpt from an email to my shrink this morning:

Today I acutely feel the difference between lonely and alone.
I'm not lonely. Instead, it's the emptiness of alone.

(There is no surprise. He and I have been working toward this. I continued the email with...)

Alone is an entirely different landscape.
The closest thing I can liken it to is standing on the remotest planet in the farthest reaches of our universe.
And there is nothing "shining" about it.

No shining alone.

I try to breathe through it. I try to masturbate through it.
Nothing seems to push the alone away. It is quite sad.


Within this empty yet very full space of alone, I know there is truth.

From an entry on November 17th, I wrote:

Yesterday, I wrote that I remembered how my activism is different. When opening my mouth I was reminded again. Right now, I'm trying so very hard not to shrink into invisibility. I see how my ideas and way of being in the world is unique.

Throughout all this I have to work so very hard not to get sucked into the maelstrom that spins me into nothingness. I see how when one looks and fits the part, it is easier to be heard. I listen to ideas similar to what I've previously voiced be given a receptive audience and kudos because the mouthpiece is bathed in familiarity. I know when I utter my thoughts, it is the silence, not the applause, that deafens.

Throughout all this, the idea that I am as valid and worthy as another is on the precarious ledge. Some days my arms are weary from hanging on. Today is one.

Then...I see it. The moments of golden light. In casual conversation in innocence, I'll relay a story. Raising my head to look in the other's eyes, I find tears along with the discovery that my words validated their wounds.

It is in the one on ones where I affirm my connection to the rest of the world.
It is the same with play. No, I may never get or have the large parties where I am welcome or feel the energy of home. But the magical intensity will manifest itself in the small and intimate exchange.

In my one session with the shrink last week I told him how I believe that living as a Shining Alone was a fucking death sentence.

"It is a death sentence" he said with a smile.

I knew what he meant.

In rereading that entry, I am reminded of the idea of death and alone.
It's all pretty right on. And it is what it is.

Some of you may think I'm crazy for doing such work. Some may think I'm self-absorbed.
I don't care.

Those questions are in my mind as well and therefore do check in with frequency about those very concerns. Each time I am reassured that the intensity of the introspection will lessen and balance out. He also reminds me that this is a path rarely travelled. It doesn't make it better or worse. Simply different. My journey.

Yesterday's entry was a reaching out of sorts. I was unconsciously (until awareness set in today) seeking kindred folks who walk similar paths.

Many days I feel as if I'm speaking an unknown language.

The further I travel the less I share. I believe that at least half the reason I'm keeping quieter is because I fear I'll be further shunned as uberfreak. A crackpot. Weirder than I am now.

A tough line to walk. It seems as if I'm always stumbling and tripping from one side to the other.
It will all even out. Somehow. Someway.

In the meantime, I have a strong desire to reclaim some turf.

The next entry will include more of my older paintings. I haven't shown my work in many months. But I will later this evening.
Does this ever happen to you?

Lately, as in the last few years, every time I rent a damned movie, I find a hidden message that speaks directly to an aspect of my life that is currently under the microscope. Now it doesn't happen with a movie on tv or when I'm watching with friends. But it seems to happen with rentals. When I rent flicks, I tend to be very relaxed. I look forward to some quiet date time with myself. On the average it may be once a month...I'll pick up two or three. Although in the last 4 weeks, I think I've rented about 7 or 8. That's quite a bit for me. In the video store I seek out something very light, hopefully not too emotional, popcorn fluffy movies. I look for something I can escape from, relax and take a break from the task that is my life.

Within this attempt, even when I actually choose something that appears fully mindless, there is still an aspect that turns into a guardian of sorts, reminding me, teaching me, guiding me.

Or I end up walking out with films that seem to have jumped off the shelf. While paying the cashier, I'll stare at the movie in puzzled disbelief..."This seems a little heavier than I wanted."

Even the one I chose as porn had a deep message that I didn't share with anyone. Just couldn't. But to this day it still gnaws at me.

It speaks. They all speak. Or they scream and shout. The most seemingly innocent line will jump out and glare at me. Of course it gets repeated again near the end. We have to make sure I heard it, right?

I just finished two films. Can't even go into them right now because...well..I just can't. The message was profoundly relevant. One especially. It shook me to my core. I'm still shaken.

Crap. It's times like this I don't like my shrink very much. As things pop out of Pandora's box, he holds them up to my face. Then, especially when it's something large that I can't fully face, the universe, or maybe the deepest, truest part of self, conspires to find ways to keep it fresh and near.

What I am noticing is that the more we deal with who I am, where my strengths lay, what direction can I take those, and speak of jumping off that cliff where everyone in the world thinks you're crazy but the time draws near to fight, stand, live and/or die for your beliefs...I notice the reminders coming fast and furious.

Yes, again a somewhat ambiguous entry.
I leave much unspoken. C'est ma vie.

As I wrote to someone this week....I can run but cannot hide.

When am I going to stop fighting and just give in to who I really am?

Saturday, January 07, 2006

I found a new singer/songwriter.

A seattle boy, Tim Seely. He's a tasty treat I discovered at one of Everyday Music's listening stations. Took him right home. I love his lyrics, yes, in addition to his music.

From his cd "Funeral Music" here are a few of the lyrics:

Your telephone lay bruised on its hook again.

Fake What You Need:
Mezzanine, don't you let that get you down
I know that it's hard
A level on the rise
Meant to be caught inside the up and down
Must be hard to be the middle child.

6 Foot Crest:
We built a house of shattered glass
The grommets growled as she rose
Prepared my shelf for mantle health
And wasted hours in her fold

We milked the town and shot it down
(I'm an artcher's hand on the bow)
We are plucked and lost, mismatched socks,
Good songs through crap microphones

The preacher said I'll grow to rest
Miles in the sky
A six-foot crest may be my best
Despite aiming high.

From an msnbc article, An Actual Tiger Finds His Own Voice, Doug Miller wrote:

"Thumb through the lyric book of Tim Seely’s debut solo CD, “Funeral Music,” and you can’t help but notice his poetry accompanied by drawings of cute, fuzzy critters caught in the cruel cycle of nature.

A bird lays suspended, upside-down. Rabbits struggle vainly to escape a snake’s strike. A dying mouse writhes. A hawk snares a cat. A dog sticks to barbed wire. Life hurts, but it moves on.

Hovering over this decay is Seely, presumably with a detached cackle at the glory of it all. He writes at the end of the liner notes, “No animals were harmed in the making of this album.”

Read the whole thing.

You can listen to some of Tim Seely's music at his website www.armyoftim.com or catch Funeral Music or Trucker's Lullaby here.

Friday, January 06, 2006

IPod day!!!!

Waiting for me in today's email was a $50 iTunes gift certificate. I'd publicly thank the person but don't know if they want to be outed. You guys so fuckin' rock!!!

See what you do? Yes, I cried.
Thank you. Very Much.

You know this means that I now have to paint in February. I originally wanted the Shuffle to lose myself in music so I could paint more freely.
And well...you are such good friends.

Speaking of iPod-ness. Morford is writing about it this morning.

He says: 9 Things Your New iPod Can't Do.
I say: Say it isn't so!

But he insists:

"Because the iPod does everything you want it to do but it doesn't do nearly enough. It is perfect but deeply flawed. It is immaculately conceived but lacking in countless vital functions. You have many untapped needs. You have countless unfulfilled experiences. The iPod is so good, you cannot help but wish it would go much, much further.

Testify --

1) I can see no reason why I should not be able to set iPod to automatically delete any photos in which I look like a stoned turtle. Plus, when showing off iPod to family and friends and girlfriends, you'd think iPod should know to automatically screen out photos of, say, previous girlfriends, especially those photographed naked and positioned down on all fours and looking back at the camera like they could eat an entire chocolate pie in three seconds off of your fingertips? You'd think this feature would be, you know, obvious."

Read the whole thing. :-)

Thursday, January 05, 2006

And even more magic.

Well I went to work to pick up the flowers. That is, on the way to meet Auxugen for drinks.
The secret admirer? My parents. LOL.

It's a beautiful bunch. You see, my favorite flowers are tulips. my second favorite (which no one knew) are lilacs. Both are spring flowers.

The bouquet is all tulips, interspersed with sprigs of baby lilacs.

I'll contact my parents later, or more likely tomorrow morning. Right now, I had a few too many. But it's not my fault. I discovered a new taste treat. After dinner, we ordered dessert. Auxugen ordered the plain cheesecake with a slight drizzle of chocolate on top. I had a decaf with sambuca. I was encouraged to try the cheesecake. I took a swig of the coffee/sambuca and then the cheesecake.


As the cheesecake goes down the throat all of a sudden, out of the blue, the flavors of coffee, sambuca and cheesecake harmonize. It has to be one of the smoothest mixtures I've ever tasted. I encouraged Auxugen to try. We then each needed to order another sambuca drink. My second. His first.

He was amazed as well.

I am so going to get on the Bear to create a coffee/sambuca/cheesecake.
Speaking of magic.

I just got back from getting my hair literally hacked very short - not cut, not buzzed but hacked off. Tattoo'd Bear treated me to my cut today. In exchange, I'll treat him to dinner soon. How many hairstylists call and say "I love you, I miss you, get your ass in my chair!" Then while hacking, he does the test. That is, he makes sure there is something left to pull. ;-)

Upon my return was a wonderful email that brought a smile inside. Right after that, another email. This one from my coworker. Apparently, some secret person (according to the email) sent me flowers! They are sitting on my desk.

I'm heading over in a bit to pick them up and bring them home. I want to enjoy them for as long as I can.

This last month has been power-packed with so many things.

What's interesting is, although I'm living with experiences and emotions that may feel conflicting in the sense of struggle versus joy versus pain versus peace etc., I don't feel as if I'm juggling or multi-tasking. Instead, it feels as if I am more present to what surrounds me in any given moment.

It may sound simplistic, but for me, to cleanly live in a space without attaching old shit or previous stuff to it, is new because it does not feel like work this time.

The grief and the glorious each feel purer.
Their colors were not created with a dirty brush.

Who knows how long it will last?
I don't know or care.

What I do know is that magic is popping up all over the place...even in the darkest of cobwebby corners.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

The best appointment ever.
For a dentist, that is.

I LOVE it when this stuff happens.
And each time it does, it leaves me in awe and amazement. I hope I never tire or take this kind of experience for granted.

Almost 4 years ago,I developed a weakness toward a certain gum infection...which is totally stressed-induced. Antibiotics, a special rinse, and then a root planing (where they scrape under the gums). Not a lot of fun, but for me, it's not as bad as the bleeding and pain that comes from the initial infection.

Well, due to dollars, I had neglected the dentist for about 2 years.

When I went to the Creating Change conference in November, on my second morning, it flared up in a nasty way. It was a very anxiety-ridden time for me. With salt water rinses, I kind of kept reins on it. I was so afraid to return to the dentist.

The first appointment was in the second week of December. They checked me out, admitted it was really very bad, gave me massive antibiotics (which I hate, but did complete the full dosage) and booked 2 more appts, to do the planing.

The severity required 2 appointments of 2 hours each and they counseled me on different options I had for numbing during the procedure.

Today was the first of the two. No, I wasn't looking forward to it. But my mouth has been feeling really great for the last couple weeks. No bleeding, no tenderness.

I walked in and sat down. The hygienist who would be doing the work tucked a blanket around my whole body, taking care to tuck my feet under the covers (I had kicked off my shoes).

She looked in my mouth and saw her first surprise. She said my gums looked pretty healthy. I opted only for a topical, for a wee bit of numbing. She reminded me if I needed something stronger, I just had to let her know.

After tackling the first quadrant of my mouth she realized she could probably finish the whole thing today. Periodically she would check in to see if I was in pain. I kept insisting I wasn't. She would chuckle.

The entire procedure was complete in an hour and a half! Barely any bleeding. No pain whatsoever. I was so relaxed I almost fell asleep in the chair a few times! Right now, my teeth aren't even sensitive, whereas after normal cleanings, there's always a leftover feeling of knowing someone's scraped your mouth like crazy. Routinely, after regular appts. I can't bear eating anything for about 3 or 4 hours. But not today.

The hygienist was shocked. At the end she said "this is a new one for my books. I have never seen anything heal so quickly, before the planing. I expected large amount of blood, yet it was minimal."

I joked "we can thank my shrink."

So, not only could I let go of an appointment, but I saved an additional $85.00!!
It was an amazing, relaxing, nurturing experience. Now, if they are all like that, I'd be thrilled.

To celebrate, I'm meeting the Bear and the bunny for drinks and nachos at the Cafe.
A. just sent me the following link.
From CNN, a case to be heard in an Italian court -

Did Jesus exist? Court To Decide

ROME, Italy (Reuters) --
Forget the U.S. debate over intelligent design versus evolution.

An Italian court is tackling Jesus -- and whether the Roman Catholic Church may be breaking the law by teaching that he existed 2,000 years ago.

The case pits against each other two men in their 70s, who are from the same central Italian town and even went to the same seminary school in their teenage years.

The defendant, Enrico Righi, went on to become a priest writing for the parish newspaper. The plaintiff, Luigi Cascioli, became a vocal atheist who, after years of legal wrangling, is set to get his day in court later this month.

"I started this lawsuit because I wanted to deal the final blow against the Church, the bearer of obscurantism and regression," Cascioli told Reuters

...here is the entire article.
How about a little of Rob Brezsny's vision for the first week of 2006?
Here's your Freewill Astrology.

I will very much take mine, thank you.
For all us Capricorns:

"Stage magician David Copperfield made an intriguing announcement recently. He told the German magazine Galore that in his next show, he will use magic to make a woman pregnant--without touching her. That's similar to the kind of mojo you will possess in 2006, Capricorn. It's true that your success in the past has usually come from your pragmatic intelligence, organizational ability, and thoroughness. But in the coming months you will also have a talent for conjuring beautiful illusions that ultimately become very real."

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

"A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming."

Where does that quote come from? ;-)

Yesterday was my decadent day. First Hoss, his boy and I went to see Brokeback Mountain. Their first viewing, and my second. Sadly, they couldn't join me for the rest of my adventure. From there I headed out to meet Qnetter, his partner, Auxugen and G for dinner (killer fish 'n' chips at the Elysian) then a short walk to the Northwest Film Forum where we spent the next 2 hours in a small 50 seat theater guffawing over this campy cult classic.

I think we were the loudest ones there. The 5 of us almost fully filled up the second row and roared. Some of the lines just cracked us up.

Other quotes, from this site with a really great image:

"A life without cause is a life without effect."

"You mean they could still be living in a primitive state of neurotic irresponsibility?"

"Armed! Like a naked savage!"

"Hello Pretty-Pretty. Do you want to come and play with me? For someone like you I'd charge nothing."

"It's the fumes - they make one want to play."

"Decrucify the angel or I'll melt your face."

"The black guards are leathermen - they are without fleshy substance."

"You are so good you made the Mathmos vomit!"

More quotes found here.

Good shows. Both of them. Good day.
7:43am sunrise.

Sitting in my leather comfy chair, my eyes drift toward the window. The most glorious sunrise is coming up behind the rooftops. Magnificent colors.

Or maybe it feels so grand because of contrast. The last few weeks have begun with grey, wet mornings.

Hmmm..I've changed my mind. It's not only contrast. The colors are quite intense. More than usual.
Now back to my lazy morning. This is a supposedly holiday vacation week for me, although I will need to head into work here and there throughout the week.

Monday, January 02, 2006

Want to hear about a fetish I've never really discussed?

I've noticed in the last month, it's hitting me in the face. All over the place.
While speaking with my shrink today, he mentioned that I'm loosening things up inside and so it makes perfect sense that I'm more sensitive and therefore drawing my druthers to me.

Saturday morning, I rented 3 dvd's for the weekend.

The first, which I wrote about in my last entry, was Beautiful Boxer.
The second...for my love of Katherine Hepburn was The Philadelphia Story.

The third, was an impulsive choice, made purely on a fierce attraction to the cover. I didn't even read the synopsis on the back. I was sure, because of the section the movie was in (drama) that it wasn't porn. But for me, it was blatant porn.

The Reception.

Here are reviews from the NYTimes and the Village Voice.

I don't think I've ever talked of my fetish.
We all have physical types we're attracted to. Bears, twinks, femmes, butches, red heads, muscle bodies, etc.
Some will only play or date exclusively within that fetish. That fine.

I never have. As long as I smell a mutual sexual attraction, I'm there, regardless of physical type.
But I have one specific type that gets me off...big time. I've been aware of this particular attraction since I was a young teenager.
Black men.

As as aside, but I know somewhat connected...Christmas 1968 (I was 8 years old). It's the only time I requested something specific for my present.
"Mom, can I have a black baby doll?"

I remember catching my mother off guard. First, I didn't play with dolls. Second, I grew up in a very white, french canadian catholic neighborhood. School, church, market, friends. My world was extremely sheltered. We watched very little TV.
Yet that's what I wanted.

To her credit, mom bought one for me. It's still sitting on the shelf in what used to be my bedroom at my parent's home.

Strange? Yeah. I loved that doll and connected to it on a very personal level. Playing with it, I felt as if I was holding my infant self.

So back to the dvd.

I saw the cover of the dvd and KNEW I had to get it. Yes, I drooled and wanked all the way through. It made my insides all mushy.
The icing on the cake was the surprise that I enjoyed the film. Beautifully filmed and provocative.

A couple weeks ago, I bumped into former Mentor, A, at a solstice party. We left together and he suggested drinks at C.C.Attle's and then the Eagle. It was my first time in a bar since our smoking ban took effect. What a different experience. I could breathe!

Anyway, this man walked in...delicious dark skin...and I raged horniness.
Then I became furious that I didn't have a penis.

You see, I think it's very impolite for a female to attempt a pickup in a gay men's bar. It's one thing if, as does periodically happen, the guy approaches me first...and then we play. But otherwise, I see it as rude. Inside I was dying because I felt my body betrayed me and therefore I couldn't at least make a move.

This morning, on my way to my therapy session...I stopped for tea at the coffee shop. A very hot man followed me in. Yeah...again I melted. My type.
While I was getting my tea, I heard him place his order with another barista. It wasn't enough that he was all dark and sweet. His drink was porn.
He said:

"I'd like a mocha with two pumps of white chocolate and four pumps of dark chocolate.""

Yeah baby, I'd like my pumps the same way.

The visual was a great image for the new year.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Happy New Year.

It dawned on me last night that the New Year holiday is, in an odd way, my favorite holiday. I think it's the only holiday, that is celebrated globally. It's not about relgion, although I'm sure some may attach religious meaning to it. It's not based in conquering other people or violence.

Now, I haven't done any research into the origins of this holiday, so if I'm wrong, please be kind and allow me my illusions. For now, anyway. ;-)

After I walked outside to see the fireworks off the top of the Space Needle (I have a straight shot view of the Needle from my corner)...I came home, turned on the tv and watched the replay. This time I could hear the music they synced the light show to. The theme of this year's celebration was Seattle music. The fireworks were set to Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Ray Charles.

From there, the station broadcasted glimpses of the various celebrations around the world. In one quick flash, I felt the powerful connection that we, as human beings, all have to each other.

I had planned to spend the evening alone. Armed with dvd's, my favorite frozen pizza that, being NYE, I can down without guilt about the fat content, and a key lime cheesecake...I was prepped. Auxugen called, inviting me out. Instead, I suggested he come by.

So we included a game of scrabble and wine in our evening.

Last night's dvd fare was Beautiful Boxer.
I wanted to see it when it played at our International Film Fest and at our Queer Film Fest, but missed it. Beautiful Boxer, based on a true story, is a beautiful and powerful film. It is one dvd that I would like to own.

From the site:

"Born into a poor family of nomads, Nong Toom spent his childhood traveling around the country with his family before settling down in Chiangmai province in the Northern part of Thailand.

Prior to his big match in Bangkok in February 1998, he'd won 20 out of 22 matches in many provinces.

He's feared by his opponents for his trademark swooping kicks, flying elbows and stinging uppercuts. His deadly prowess in the ring made it hard for the public to understand his ambition of becoming a woman.

Undoubtedly one of Thailand's best known kickboxers, Nong Toom is admired by many for his courage and despised by others who accused him of tarnishing the masculine image of Thai kickboxing."

The movie kicked my guts. Yes, a little in regards to the gender stuff, but the bigger impact was in the middle of the film when Toom is struggling with himself. It was that one pivotal decision where you choose yourself versus the rest of the world. You see, I've been working on this with my therapist for the last month. Each session gets tougher, more frightening, and of course I see my resistance increase. We are looking at the death of ego/self. Because he sees the direction I'm headed in, he is lovingly yet quite firmly, guiding me through this process. The point where I choose myself in spite of all else. That one place where I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am fully alone, abandoned by all else, and in being so, find my strength...my foundation.

I know that, as I've known for years, it is an ongoing process. A continual re-dying, so to speak. But this one is the biggie.

Friday's session was so intense that I proceeded to get drunk afterwards. The bunny was waiting for me in the parking lot at 7pm, when I left my shrink. We had a date planned at Septieme. I proceeded to down 2 large Long Island Ice Teas, a coffee with much Sambuca and then topped it off with scotch. To boot, I'm a lightweight drinker.

Needless to say, I wasn't up to drinking last night. Therefore my consumption was quite limited.

Oh, on Friday, I sold a painting. The buyer, from NYC, won't take delivery until February because I need to sign and varnish the piece, then get slides made. At that point, I'll post the image.

It is the best painting I've ever done, the one I love the most. On one hand I can't believe I'm ready to let it go, because it's barely 6 months old. Still a baby. On the other...I am primed to move on.

Yesterday morning, A, my former leather Mentor, and I met for brunch. I mentioned I sold a painting.
His reply?

"Good! It's about time you exhaled!"

Powerful statement.

Yes, I knew I had a difficult time letting go of work. But I never (although now it feels like a 'duh' moment) connected it to exhaling.

And what did I write a few hours before the buyer first contacted me about my painting?
My resolution.

I resolve to keep on keepin' on. I resolve not only to continue to smell the roses but engage with them. I resolve to do my best to stay aware of possibilities. I resolve to get out of bed each morning and face whatever needs to be faced. I resolve to challenge myself to keep an open heart to love and sex and art in all its multifacetedness, and not limit myself by settling for what is reinforced or dictated by our society, the queer community and even our own subculture.

I resolve to be mindful.
I resolve to breathe in and in doing so I recommit myself to breathing out.

For this next year, I hereby resolve.

I resolve to breathe in and in doing so I recommit myself to breathing out.
Exhale is as critical as inhale.

I was painting inward yet not taking the next step. Exhalation.

When I orgasm, if I keep my breath in, instead of deep even in and outs, it stifles and makes the orgasm difficult. The reason I continue in this manner is because it also feels so good. I want to continue it. Forever. Not let it go. I try to clutch tightly. In doing so, what is really happening is that I limit the bigness of the moment.

In breathing deeply, out as well as in, the ecstasy of the experience is more honest, filled with integrity...and burns longer...a hotter flame.
It's the same with everything.

Letting go of my paintings is to exhale.

Painting is sex.
Sex is life.
Life is breath.

We are all connected and we are each alone in that connection.