Sunday, April 30, 2006

I'll be there...

Silent March and Rally in Seattle.

Join Diverse Immigrant Groups and Allies in National Day of Action For Comprehensive Immigration Reform
May 1st Rally & Silent March for Immigrant Labor, Human and Civil Rights

WHERE: Judkins Park near 20th and Jackson (behind St. Mary's Church, 611 20th Avenue South, Seattle)

WHEN:  3:30 PM, Monday, May 1, 2006

WHAT:  Rally and Silent March for Comprehensive Immigration Reform

(march ends at Federal Building downtown)

WHO:   Diverse immigrant and allied communities, labor, faith, business

(If you have a large flag from your country, please call (206) 723-2203 x 208, we are looking to display flags from all countries)

WEAR:  Black clothes and march silently


1.      A pathway to citizenship and legalization for undocumented immigrants
2.      Ensure immigrants have civil rights and civil liberties protected
3.      Reunite families that have been waiting years to be with their children and spouses
4.      Ensure worker rights, regardless of immigration status


1.      Expands indefinite detention and mandatory detention
2.      Further militarizes the border
3.      Gives unchecked power to the Administration
4.      Erodes rights for all Americans


Hate Free Zone Washington, (206) 723-2203 x 207, OR Comite Pro Amnistia (206) 324-6044

Saturday, April 29, 2006

You know that feeling when you're camping in the woods and you wake up in the morning? The air is damp from the dawn dew. It has a distinct scent. And then, as you continue to wake, you then smell that crisp, comforting smell of campfires around you?

God I love that smell.

For some very strange reason, while sitting in my living room this afternoon, that's exactly what I can smell. It's been raining all day and so I understand the smell of dampness. But the smell of campfire? I haven't an idea. It doesn't smell like house fire.

Whatever it is...I'm basking in it.
My Thursday art date~

For any of you in the Seattle area, check out the current show at the Frye Museum. Kudos to them for not only exhibiting this work, but it's in the front gallery. The show is called Swallow Harder. It's only up until May 14, so get there quick. Quietly tantalizing.

Upon entering the exhibit, I did my normal quick skim of all the work. Individually, some of the work didn't strike me in the way that good art does. But as I remained in the space, to look deeper...with the rest of my body, I felt myself encased in sultry, lusty and at times, taboo sex.

There are a couple pieces that are blatantly provocative. And, from sitting with the work a while, there are a few that I fell in love with.

In addition, check out their "Loss" exhibit. It's brilliant, It forces the viewer to engage and allows them to share some of their reaction and therefore energy. In that manner, it pushes against being a passive affair. That in and of itself creates an erotic experience.

When I entered the two rooms, I intentionally didn't read about the exhibit first. I always prefer the first impression to be my own visceral response. I wandered the two rooms and noticed a few things. First, my favorites weren't hanging and I missed them. But, from the placement of the paintings, fully filling the walls, top to bottom, with periodic large empty spaces...I enjoyed the contrast between empty and not empty. At the time, I didn't know what the curator had in mind for the empty patch. To me, the empty felt just as full as the rest of the walls. It added balance.

The second thing I noticed was I discovered new favorite paintings from the permanent collection. What a treat that was! I felt like a little kid at Christmas.

In each of the two rooms, there was a podium, designed to hold two journal type books. The left side page was a description of the show. The right side was blank, filled with lines, and room for name and email at the bottom. People were leaving their impressions of the show. I spent much time reading through the thoughts. Fascinating.

Some were absolutely furious that their favorites weren't hanging. A couple of folks used this venue to note their displeasure with the Swaller Harder show (feeling it was too pornographic). Others were titillated with the concept of the "Loss" exhibit.

It's a fun and worthwhile read.

"Loss" is the second part of a three part exhibit.
From the website:

"Showcasing paintings from the founding collection, this three-exhibition cycle examines the relationship between viewers as spectators and art as objects of desire. It uses innovative exhibition strategies to explore the complex relationships between consuming, collecting, memory, language, and interpretation.

What is it that prompts avid spectators of art to take the leap and become passionate collectors?

Lust (through February 26, 2006) imagines the viewing and collecting habits of Charles and Emma Frye, founders of the Frye Art Museum. Contemporary viewers are invited to envision the Fryes’ domestic sphere, where a mix of pedagogical value, personal eccentricity and early twentieth-century conventions of art display influenced the way this couple lived with their private collection of paintings long before offering it as a gift to the Seattle public. Artworks are hung very close to each other and skyed - hung virtually floor to ceiling - in a salon-style installation on walls of dark mulberry, a color preferred by the Fryes.

Instead of backdrop for individual paintings, the galleries seem to be some sort of performance, the dead past brushing itself off and standing up to stare back at us.
- Regina Hackett, Seattle Post Intelligencer

Loss (March 4, 2006–March 4, 2007) Since the Frye opened its doors in 1952, several paintings have become perennial favorites of Frye visitors. In this exhibition, some of these favorites are removed from the galleries and remain out of sight for several months. During this period, visitors are invited to remember, in writing, the missing works of art. Loss explores the idea that the painting one loves is as much a construction of memory and desire as it is a response to the direct encounter between a viewing subject and a viewed art object.

Love (July 1, 2006–March 4, 2007) juxtaposes written viewer remembrances from Loss with favorite paintings from the Collection, now returned to the galleries in fresh positions and a decidedly modern installation, in contrast to the display method of Lust.

This exhibition explores the idea that the painting one loves is as much a construction of memory and desire as it is a response to the direct encounter between viewing subject and viewed art object.

There is also another exhibit hanging, The Walser Greathouse Legacy. Gorgeous, gorgeous paintings. Most were paintings I had never seen on display before.

I need to return in the next week or so. Because I was mentally exhausted, I knew I wasn't taking the art in at full capacity.

Thank you Hoss and D for a wonderful evening.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Living With War

Gotta love 'em~
One of my coworkers...not only was he the only one to volunteer (not as squeamish because, as he responded.. "I'm a dad, I'll do it") to dig into my finger and pull out a four day old purple paint covered splinter that had lodged itself in there while painting the exterior trim for the new Hot Dish that Dan is opening, (and how long can I make this sentence?) after I emailed the staff and asked who'd be willing to perform such minor surgery...but he just sent me this.

That's the link to listen to Neil Young's new album "Living With War." It includes a song entitled "Let's Impeach The President."

There is also a blog devoted to Living With War, with articles and more links about the cd.

From this article:
"Harp magazine reported on its Web site Thursday that Demme had confirmed in an e-mail, “Neil just finished writing and recording -- with no warning -- a new album called 'Living With War.' It all happened in three days… It is a brilliant electric assault, accompanied by a 100-voice choir, on Bush and the war in Iraq… Truly mind blowing. Will be in stores soon.”
It's Friday.

It's warm and sunny. And most important, I have no plans. I'm off until Monday. Hear that? Nothing I need to do, no place I have to be...other than dinner tonight, tomorrow night and Sunday evening. I can actually be still and rest. Maybe, hopefully in doing so, my mind can gain some rejuvenation and I can think again.

Since my trip to NYC, I have not had the chance to really rest. The day before I left, I came face to face with a huge fact in therapy. There was no time to even process it while in NYC. Upon my return, between my cold, work and the increasing speed of internal movement in my sessions with the shrink...well...I'm exhausted.

While heading over to the Frye Museum for an art date with Hoss and D last night, it hit me hard. I was fried. In spite of my mental fog, I could enjoy the fascinating exhibits currently hanging. I want to write about it. Later.

For now, let's do Morford with Let Us Now Spit Upon The Earth.

"Bush on Earth Day. It's like Satan talking up the joys of Easter. It's like Paris Hilton chatting about treading the planet with humility and grace. It's like Jerry Falwell gushing about his love of "Brokeback Mountain," Eli Lilly extolling the virtues of meditation and green tea. It is, in a word, embarrassing. Humiliating. Intellectually bludgeoning. And hypocritical in a way, and at a depth, that is as nauseating to stomach as the testosterone levels at a Duke lacrosse frat party."

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Everyone’s A F%@cking DJ

The Seattle Eagle presents a Fundraiser for the Seattle LGBT Community Center/.

"IPOD ENTHUSIASTS"-show us what you got

So you want to be a DJ?
That’s what everyone has said once in their life …well, now you can.

The Seattle Eagle and LGBT Center have teamed up their efforts to bring
"Everyone’s a F%#cking DJ" every Monday night starting Monday May 1st.

Here is the deal: bring in your ½ hour mixed mp3 set from your personal eclectic music selection for our eager ears to listen.
(Exceptable forms of players are anything that produces sound via headphone jacks…ipod,mp3 players, portable cd players etc…)

~Each Monday evening starts at 8pm, sign up with the bartender and goes until 1:30am
~Buy Stoli products and $1 goes to LGBT Community Center

Each night there will be a $25 cash prize to the best mix of the evening, in which the winners of each night will get to put their dj skills to the test in a winners spin-off which will be held at The Eagle on the 1st Saturday of the month on the 2 month intervals so 8 djs will tear it up from 2pm until 8pm on the Spin-off Saturday, the winner of the spin off will win a brand new iPod nano.

So get the hits pumping and the grounds shaking and let's spend the night playing to our hearts content.

Everyone’s a F%@cking DJ.
I haven't been up to some serious, meatier entries. Very busy at work and very busy inside my heart. So in the meantime...I have a few more links to share with you.

The first one for today is...from Rhode Island...presenting the Mustache Tattoo.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Little blurb from this morning with the shrink~

me: "In the last week, I have never felt more worthless in all my life. The feeling increases each day."

him: "No, that's not true. This is how you have felt your entire life. What's new is that you are now aware of these feelings."

Ouch. Now there's something for me to chew on.

Edited to add:
The ouch doesn't come from what may appear (out of context) to be a harsh statement on the part of my shrink, yet it comes from knowing the truth that fills his words. I love the fact that he won't be simply 'nice' with me, but will offer brutal honesty.
Very obscene real estate porn

For a paltry $53,000,000

Now this is the way to unload a home. Just double the asking price.
From the article: The 30,000-square-foot, six-bedroom manse has been on the market since the late 1990s, when it was listed at half that much.

Here's a link for ya. It's a fun little flick. Short, sexy, and kind of sweet.
" Got burning questions about how to use the bathroom? Just follow the cute doggies, and weep."

That's from today's Morford, Toilet-Paper Puppies In Hell .

Your weekly dose of Rob Brezsny can be found here.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Bless me father for I have sinned...

...It has been 2 years since my last mammogram.

Finally…I made the damned appointment to get my boobs squished. I was only overdue by a year but, considering my mom and her mom each had double radical mastectomies due to cancer, I know there's no excuse for me to procrastinate.

Why is it that sometimes the easiest things get tucked to the side? It has never really been an exam that carries anxiety for me. It's fully paid for by my insurance, it's painless, and the breast center is only about 6 to 8 blocks from where I work. Can't get much simpler than that.

Geez Louise....
Today's horoscope from Jonathan Cainer. Considering what I wrote just an hour and a half hits home.

For Caps:
"Would you like a lot more freedom, a lot more money and a lot more power? It is easily attained. Simply close down all access to your heart. Care about nobody. Feel innocent, childlike enthusiasm for nothing. Be callous and calculating. Be cold and clinical. You will then have plenty of 'success' but no depth, no warmth, no magic and no meaning. Your vulnerability now, is something to be proud of, not ashamed. It will yet make you wealthy in a way that no material accomplishment ever could."
Here's the remainder of last night's entry that I held onto a bit.
At the time I was just too tired to go through it and finish.

Rereading it now, I don't even know if any of it makes any sense. But here it is.

Remember the abandonment feelings I spoke of last Friday? The ferocity is brutal. Although the shrink was away, per his suggestion, I'd connect with him through the weekend.

In one of my emails to him…I wrote:

“The abandonment and neediness is considerably growing. I know I have to go thru it. And it's frightening. I am so terrified you're going to leave me and you will hate me. It feels as if I need you....just to breathe.

I am making the connection (intellectually) that this is how I must have felt as a little kid. Thing is, I'm not ready to feel that reality with my heart.

Scary, scary, painful stuff.”

Yeah. See how dependent I’ve become on him? It’s big. HUGE. Actually, honestly, if it weren’t for him right now, (and I am so not being dramatic), I’d be dead.

Okay. So I don’t know if it happens with every therapist/client relationship, or if it’s relegated to the psychoanalytic type of treatment or if it simply depends upon the agreement the two have….

…but I unconsciously knew, and he later confirmed….that I would become dependent upon him. Essentially I’m replaying all my old, child, infant stuff with him. To retouch the old preverbal wounds, it had to happen. Returning to THAT place of vulnerability was and is a necessary step for my continued healing.

This weekend, I felt it...bigger. And it scared me. With the shrink, I am vulnerable in a way I’ve never been before. Each step has gone deeper and deeper. I don’t know if there is more depth to sink into. Every time I think that’s it, we've reached it, we could always take another step.


For the last 4 days, I woke each morning in a huge struggle. Maybe it’s time to cease therapy and stop. He’s gotten too close. Each day has developed with a greater understanding of how vulnerable I really am. It brings forth my survival instinct- RUN.

My feelings of worthliness, and neediness….actually, in yesterday’s email to the shrink, I wrote:

"All I know is I'm absolutely worthless...and the biggest leech that's ever lived."

Those feelings are fullface...smack in the center. Not a little here or there…but right out front.

The shrink replied with:
"Somehow someone taught you to believe this about yourself! Sad but true. I don't know about you, but it makes me mad!"

Powerful. And there are a couple things I need to deal with.
First, the acceptance that the feelings of worthliness were taught. Messages replayed over and over...
...I can't quite bite into that one yet. The fantasy I took to heart was that I did it to myself. It was the freak in me.

The second part that I can't deal with right now either is that this type of abuse...and I'm currently cringing at the use of the word, but I know it is...makes him angry. It's the deep idea that someone is looking out for me. Right now, I'm having a difficult time fighting for myself but he will.

I have to deal with this.

I know I’m not the only person in the world who feels this way. I also know I’m not the only one who has actively worked on this.

But fuck. While going through it, it is the loneliest feeling in the universe. To have every cell in my body screaming “you are too much”…in a manner I’ve never before experienced. Yes, I grew up with the idea that I was too much. I’ve felt it on and off. Yet now, the impact of coming close to the place where it began, is…well…fucking frightening.

This sounds dramatic, I know. It is dramatic. How can it not be?

Yesterday was the blackest black thus far. This goes along with my painting (which I still have yet to write about). It's an ongoing struggle in believing I do not have the courage to move through this. Many things have required my strength. I would rise to the occasion. It is so very big. I can see myself committing passive suicide by slipping back and choosing…choosing to take the easy road. It involves living that life of “placid, mayonnaise” that I wrote about last week. The life I never wanted to live. The life that I made a concerted effort not to live and instead choose a life where I taste, and be, and smell, and paint, and fuck and play and think and love and feel….and touch and breathe….

….and now, I don’t know if I have the balls to continue to do so.

Maybe I’ll take the cheaters way out...and morph into blandness.
Or maybe, without notice, I'll find my strength again and it will see me through.

Or...more accurately, I need to lean on the shrink right now...and grab some of his strength. I must learn how to accept that from someone else. I didn't learn how when I was is the time.

It is difficult for me to see possilibility. Even the possibility of Painter that scared the bejesus out of me, while in NYC…I can’t see it right now. I haven’t been able to see that for a few weeks.

It all hurts. Hurts bad.

To get to the other side I needed to step into the fire. The fire, in my case, being the origin of my fears, my insecurities, my feelings of worthliness. I know I need to feel it all...while stripping myself of my control and allowing another to be there and see me. Really see me.

I can see how my underbelly is exposed. I can see the grime and pus oozing. And with each minute, I fear that this person who has committed himself to standing by me, will leave. Each moment I fight my urge to turn away because of my shame. But how will I ever be able to trust others...truly trust friends, maybe potential partners, or most importantly, myself, unless I continue and finish what I've begun?

The hole is big. I know that it cannot be filled by anyone or anything...except myself.

I told a friend yesterday that he wasn’t broken. I can say that because I know I am. I’m so broken that I’m honestly not sure if I’m recoverable. I see my need. It is vast.

Monday, April 24, 2006


Yesterday felt like summer.

Why? Because it was the first day since last fall where not only did I sit outdoors at a sidewalk café table, but wore bare feet encased in sandals. My toes could feel the air.

Auxugen and I spent a couple wonderful hours in the sun at Septieme, enjoying margueritas, nachos and the required people watching. It’s always been a marker of sorts.

So that’s it for cheerful stuff. Oh yes, except for one other tidbit. I’ve been walking to work the last 3 weeks. And I’ve found the perfect street. I can take it most of the way to the office. It’s quiet…residential…and filled with blooms. The morning air is thick with the scent of spring flowers. It’s an amazing way to begin my day.

On my way home today, I smelled, for the first time this season, lilacs. Again, a smell that almost knocked me over. It was thick and glorious. I stopped and turned…seeking the source, and saw my first wonderful lilac bush for the year. It was full and the blooms were large.

This makes me happy. In spite of what I’m dealing with…I revel in these moments. They are my joy.

Tonight, I had just gotten home from work and the bunny called to chat. He said “it’s still gorgeous out. Are you going to spend the evening at Septieme?”

“Nah. Not tonight.”

After hanging up the phone, I wondered why I wouldn’t. I needed dinner and knew a small beet salad was calling my name. Topped with a nice merlot…it would be a good ending to an iffy day.

So although I no longer have wifi access at the Café, I brought my laptop to sit and write. The entry on service remains unfinished. Maybe I'd complete it tonight. I barely sat down and noticed that for some reason, it’s queer org. night in here. An NGLTF boardmember just walked in. A little while later, someone I met a few years back, who I think is affiliated with the Gill Foundation came in as well. In addition, I saw an old friend who updated me on the latest plans for the queer pride parade. He is part of a new grassroots effort to create a new Pride march and secede from the original organized Pride parade group.

This year there’s a big controversy with the parade. I’ve now been informed of what will be happening in response to the single-minded decision that the parade committee made, disregarding the voices of the majority of the community.

It is going to be a very interesting Pride weekend.

Maybe if I sit here and blab enough, I won’t even touch upon what’s happening in my very full internal world. can I keep quiet?

I stopped writing and looked up from the screen. My eyes landed upon a sign across the street: Coming Soon – Pho Bac 3

How many Pho joints can Broadway hold in a 3 block area? Between Pho and Thai, we are flooded.

What we need is an ice cream place. When I first moved here, back in ’98, there was a Ben & Jerry’s…and a Baskin Robbins. The B&J closed shop first. The Baskin shut down a few years back. No more ice cream. I can’t believe that people on the Hill don’t need ice cream. Especially between April and November.

We can't have enough ice cream.

I have a whole other chunk of entry...the other stuff, but I've decided to split it here....and will post the other later...or tomorrow morning. This entry has gotten long enough.

Talk with you later.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Rainbow leis, easter eggs and...

From Daddy, Papa and Me -
One family's experience at the White House for the easter egg roll.

And from the article from SFGate:

"President Bush briefly appeared in the morning to blow a whistle and start the first egg roll race, while first lady Laura Bush appeared for photos with children from Gulf Coast states hit by Hurricane Katrina.

Both left the event before the first gay and lesbian families arrived."

Sends a clear message, doesn't it?
Oh this is good...
...You've gotta check it out.

I am the egg head, I'm the Commander, I'm the Decider

Friday, April 21, 2006

Tough day.

The shrink is gone for a week. Normally, not a big deal although depending on what's going on, some weeks can be more challenging. This time, oh this particular time, it has brought out all my abandonment stuff, all my feelings of worthlessness, all my crap in a way, with an intensity I've never before consciously felt.

Thing is, I know what's going on. I can objectively see how I'm reacting. I am acutely aware that what I'm thinking and therefore allowing myself to feel are old ghosts that have waited for this one moment to gang up on me full force.

It doesn't surprise me.

The last week has gifted me with some powerful messages that are slowly beginning to sink in. People, unbeknownst to each other, have been reflecting what they see as my power and beauty back at me. From a talk with Spencer about service and how I'm seen in that capacity, (blog entry in progress on that one), to the shrink trying to show me how much I really give back to him (and he's not talking about the money), to an amazing email I received yesterday from Qnetter relaying to me how I feed the sadists who play with's all really big shit.

In the past, the words would simply fly over my head. From there, the next step was the words would attempt to hit but I'd deflect them either with jokes or sarcasm. Then a little at a time, I'd hear it, pay attention, and with a great deal of discomfort at least attempt to take them in. Lately, I am listening, and with much seriousness and mindfulness, work on holding the words close to my heart. I smell the energy in which it's given and try to surround myself with the love.

Honestly, at times it's uncomfortable. I'm trying on new clothes...styles I'm not used to wearing. It feels foreign. And I view it in awe...with almost a childlike surprise...

All this is wrapped up with a heavy truth I am still realizing in regards to my painting and why I am not painting. The painting truth began with one succinct statement made by Nayland when we met (another entry in progress). Nayland, you were on target. Not only that, but your words have haunted me every day since, many times each day. Thank you.

What's interesting is I'm being flooded with truths of the things that are most important to me. My service, my s/m and my painting. Not a coincidence.

Yes, it has been an electric few weeks.

No wonder now is a big freak out moment. It's a good thing none of you are sitting in my insides right now. I'd be handing each of you barf bags.

Now I need to get ready for lunch with a good friend and then it's off to the up and coming Hot Dish to check into some new art for the walls.
Today...I'm linking to articles.

"It is a time of great wonder and sporadic hope and hot liquid sighs masquerading as just another day in your life. It is a time of vital physical awakening and innovative technological excellence resulting in unprecedented levels of vibratory genital bliss. Wait, did you read that correctly? Yes, you read that correctly."

And to continue with the rest of Morford's column for today...

Thanks to H for the link to the following article by a leading Princeton University historian - The Worst President in History?

The article opens with:
"George W. Bush's presidency appears headed for colossal historical disgrace. Barring a cataclysmic event on the order of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, after which the public might rally around the White House once again, there seems to be little the administration can do to avoid being ranked on the lowest tier of U.S. presidents. And that may be the best-case scenario. Many historians are now wondering whether Bush, in fact, will be remembered as the very worst president in all of American history."

The third article is also a very good article brought to my attention by Matt. Take the time to read Vanishing Archives.

From the piece:
"Documents wind up missing from public archives for many reasons. Sometimes they're shelved or labeled incorrectly, or lost, and sometimes they're even stolen. But at the U.S. National Archives, documents have been disappearing since 1999 because intelligence officials have wanted them to. And under the terms of two disturbing agreements - with the CIA in 2001 and by the Air Force in 2002 - the National Archives has been allowing officials to reclassify declassified documents, which means removing them from the public eye. So far 55,000 pages, some of them from the 1950s, have vanished. This not only violates the mission of the National Archives; it is also antithetical to the natural flow of information in an open society. As time passes, the need for secrecy, which should always adhere to a very strict standard, usually diminishes. Apparently the CIA wants to turn back the hands of time."

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Not that it's a competition or anything...

...but it may seem that the Brooklyn Leather Posse has nothing on its Seattle counterpart. LOL (Although if y'all had been would have been even that much more fun!)

Auxugen's birthday was April 3rd. It slipped by quietly. I spaced it. Totally. When I mentioned it to him, he responded with "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it." It seems he said the same thing to his roommate, also after the fact.

G (the roommate), got a few of us together to celebrate this week. We were 9. Auxugen, Hoss, his D., Qnetter's partner (Qnetter couldn't make it), the Bear and his bunny, G (Auxugen's roommate), Buddy and myself. We met at G's apartment. Auxugen knew we were all getting together for dinner, but that was it. He didn't know we were belated celebrating his birthday, nor did he expect what happened next.

Once we all arrived, we headed up the hill to Broadway. Just before turning onto Broadway, a large black bag was placed over Auxugen's head, and his hands were bound behind his back with a canvas belt. We parade him down the sidewalk and at the end of the block, turned into The Deluxe, for dinner.

Being Capitol Hill, no one really blinked an eye. On the street, they probably figured we were making a political statement. In the restaurant, the waitstaff and diners simply smiled and assumed it was just another night out for a group of friends.

The hood and tied hands remained, while we ordered drinks and toasted Auxugen. Our waiter referred to him in the third person as "hood boy"...such as "would hood boy like something to drink?"

Auxugen was able to order his drink, Long Island ice tea, but it sat in front of him until after the toast. A few of us tasted it for him. We had to make sure it was safe. :-)

The toast, in addition to birthday wishes, included directions for the future informing us of his birthday wishes (such as "it's my birthday but I hate surprises, or I don't want to do anything") We just need to know. Otherwise you always run the risk...

It was a wonderful evening with a fabulous group of loving, hot and sexy pervs. I'm thrilled we had the chance to share some of our lovin' and bestow some special attention on Auxugen. (Love you man. You're so totally worth it.)

If I get a hold of some of the photos, I'll post 'em.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Gee I'm beat. Not really, but wish I were. I am still jonesing something fierce for nasty, intense play. There are play partners lined up but right now, no place to play. The space I was going to use is currently (and temporarily) out of commission. With the mood I'm in, the local public play space would not work at all.

Now, although not beat...yet...I am exhausted. It's been a couple very full long days, including a get-together last night for a boy who chose not to inform us of his birthday. When I have a minute, I'll write about what happens to Seattle boys who keep this information quiet. We even have pictures. Somewhere.

Today is another neverending day. This evening is our twice a year grants celebration...awarding over $90,000.00 to queer and allied organizations in this cycle. Right now, I'm a tad hungover from a few too many mojitos and sugar from last night. Hopefully the headache dissipates soon and I can move forward.
The Gambler.

He is suffering. He is playing terribly, grumbling, sneering at the dealer, talking to the cards like they were his personal slutty harem ("C'mon you dumb bitches, do me right," etc), complaining to his very angry God who is apparently no longer coming through for him. He is getting desperate. His pile is diminishing. He is sweating, glancing around, wondering where all his drunk fraternity friends scurried off to.

Soon he is down to his last chips. He makes one final stab, but his final bet tanks. He is out, the pile is gone.

He then does what every miserable, lunkheaded gambler does at this point: In a fit of alcoholic rage and demonic encouragement, he says, "Screw it" -- and digs into his pocket, pulls out his last remaining crumpled $1,000 bill and slaps it down on the table in one big final gesture meant to turn his fortunes around all at once, goddamn the wife at home and screw a decent meal and forget every ironclad rule of gambling because dammit the gods owe him and he's long overdue for a change in fortune. Yes. Right. Sure he is.

It's an excerpt from Iran, You Ran. Let's Bomb Iran.

Today's Freewill Astrology can be found here.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Neil Young: 'Let's Impeach the President'

Rocker records protest album, 'Living with War'

From CNN:
LOS ANGELES, California (Reuters) -- Veteran rocker Neil Young has recorded a protest album featuring an anti-Iraq war track with "a holy vow to never kill again" and a song titled "Let's Impeach the President," the singer said on Monday."
Inopportune: Stage One

~by artist Cai Guo-Qiang features full-size Fords tumbling through space. Cai describes the work as "like freeze frames at points in time; nine cars make the story of one car."

From the article:
"Composed of nine full-size automobiles tumbling through space amid starbursts of LED lights, the piece will be suspended along the length of the museum's new First Avenue lobby when it opens next year."

Check out the photo and the story - Artist's freeze-frame car wreck to light up SAM entry
You know it's going to be a good day when…

…you walk into work, sit down at your desk…the office still dark and quiet.
Before doing anything else, you decide to check your voice mail and hear a familiar voice,

"thank you very very much for inviting me, making me feel welcome, fussing over me, and cumming all over me…"

Yeah…it was a good weekend. The damned voice mail has not only filled me with warm fuzzies, but juicy ones as well.

How the hell am I supposed to focus on work now?

Monday, April 17, 2006

Seeking stories.

Who was Tony DeBlase?

Recently, Aubrey Sparks, Spencerlebear and myself had an opportunity to spend a day together. For hours upon hours, conversation flowed. It was wonderful spending time with these two men who are peers, coming from the same generation and culture regarding sex and leather. As Spencer mentioned, near the end of what was almost 10 hours, the conversation should have been recorded. They spoke about the state of sex, of queerness, reminiscing on the past, looking toward the future, the changes, the loss, the grief, the myths, the misplaced romanticism, and the good times. Being witness to as well as putting my two cents in periodically (you know me...!) that conversation was...well...I have yet to find the words.

At one point, Aubrey and Spencer were sharing their personal stories about Tony DeBlase. I commented that, because of the scholarship project, it would be wonderful to collect stories of Tony and bring him to life for those who only know him as the creator of the leather pride flag. Maybe we could hopefully give people a larger sense of who Tony was, create a more personal connection than a bio or obit, and in doing so, it would help explain why Aubrey chose to honor his memory with a scholarship fund that promotes further studies in sexuality.

Later on, I had forgotten about the suggestion. It seems Aubrey did not. Here is Aubrey's personal request for stories.

If you have memories you'd like to share, please take a minute to dash off your memories and email Aubrey Sparks at: Aubrey at leatherdaddy dot com. It would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you!

p.s. For those interested in hearing an interview done with Tony DeBlase, here is the link to the Aubrey's Playroom with Tony in March 2000.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

My rabbit hole.

It was supposed to rain today, but instead, the sun chose to make an appearance. I woke horny...the kind of horniness that attacks with a vengeance. It was the lingering effects of a weekend guest. He and I are both walking wounded who chose to find consolation in each other's bodies. It's been over two years since we've seen each other. We first met 6 years ago, and sexually clicked...pretty much right away. My nasty lunges toward him whenever we see each other. He is a good man and has a part of my heart. These periodic come togethers are perfect just as they are. Easy, comfortable, hot and sexy.

Today was the first day in weeks that I had to myself. With what's been happening in therapy, the NYC trip regarding LLC and my painting, and the joy of reestablishing connection this weekend with the northern was a bottom drop day.

All these feelings of vulnerability came to the surface. I was weepy and soft. No specific reason. As the feelings bubbled up, I stepped aside and became the scientist.
"What is going on?"
"What has happened?"
"What am I feeling?"

Within that, I saw the signs of drop, not from a bad scene, yet very much the opposite. It has been such a full time, with so many emotions and experiences that I simply crashed and felt the overload. Sitting here late this morning I knew I wanted family and yet, I was too exhausted to expend the energy to really organize a gathering. It was all I could do to pick up the phone, and call Auxugen. I shared my idea and asked him if he'd deal with emailing the guys. I hankered, albeit exhaustedly, to sit at a table surrounded by my family. He accommodated my request and in spite of the short notice...everyone, except Hoss (who sadly was working) showed. It was just what this faggot needed. Thank you all.

Even though it's been a week, I still haven't had the opportunity to sort out last weekend. Every once in a while, a montage fills the screen behind my eyes and I replay glimpses. All potent, in so many different ways. My life has picked up a pace that is immense and full. Somehow, I'm barely finding the energy to keep up and yet, it is happening. Experiences are unfolding in magical ways. It seems that each step into the reliving old pain is accompanied by the potential of all I am becoming.

I have never been one to lead a placid, mayonnaise life. For me, death would be a greater solution. In whatever capacity I can, I've always at least internally acknowledged whatever joy there is...while at the same time dealing with the difficulty and suffering that is also life. Yet as it has all ramped itself up...the deeper I step into the belly of the life has taken on a texture never before felt. It is richer. And it is uncomfortable. Opening up to the limitless self is simultaneously terrifying and satisfying.

I know my writing is muddled tonight. Very tired. Therapy tomorrow morning is going to be tough. I taste the fear in my mouth and yet at the same time, I also know I'll get through it. It feels I am immersed in a great paradox. Maybe I've stepped into a rabbit hole? It all makes sense and yet not.

Fragile yet solid.
Joyful and heartbroken.
Innocent and cynical.
All both. At the same time. awe...and yet..not really.
I can't even explain or describe the mix of emotions and experiences.
Is this what crazy really is?

The big life and big emotions that I had always been proud of holding and living are nothing compared to the last month or so. I had no idea. And yet...something deep inside knew.

Familiar and unfamiliar.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Rec'd last night in my email...editorial on immigrant rights:

For Immediate Release
April 14, 2006
Editorial by Pride Foundation Executive Director Audrey Haberman

(Contact: Zan McColloch-Lussier, Director of Strategic Initiatives 206.323.3318)

In this time of intense fear-mongering about people who seem different, I was inspired to see thousands of people take to the streets demanding to be treated fairly during the Northwest’s recent immigrants right marches. The signs carried by the marchers, “We are not criminals” “Equality for my family” “I am a taxpayer” are similar to those carried every year in marches for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) equality.

The similarities between our struggles as LGBT people and immigrants abound. We know what it is like to be afraid for the security of our families because we are treated unequally under the law. We suffer from misperceptions about who we are and how we contribute to our society. And both immigrants and LGBT folks know what it feels like to be used as a scapegoat for our country’s problems and as a means to turn out ultra-conservative voters.

Immigrant rights and LGBT rights are not separate issues. In fact, the LGBT movement needs to recognize immigration policies as an LGBT issue, not least because there are, of course, LGBT immigrants and their loved ones. The 2000 census revealed that there are over 100,000 Latino/a same-sex couples in the United States. In these couples, as many as 50,000 were born outside the US. And many US-born LGBT people are needlessly separated from their life partners due to discriminatory visa policies that don’t recognize their relationships.

As I celebrated Passover, the Jewish celebration of freedom and liberation, I was again reminded of the pertinence of seeing similarities in movements, and the necessity of being an ally. Every movement in our history has a story to tell of the desire to live in a land where people are treated fairly, and the many allies who stood up to make that possible. I am reminded how only together will we overcome hatred and bigotry.

I encourage all of those who believe in equality to join with immigrants as they publicly stand up for their inclusion in our country. Those of us who know what it is like to be excluded due to fear and ignorance have an obligation to stand up for each other, and speak out for justice everywhere. Together we can transform our neighbors’ fears into voices of compassion and respect.

Audrey Haberman is the Executive Director of the Pride Foundation. Pride Foundation funds organizations working in pursuit of equality for the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community. More information on Pride Foundation can be found at

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Spring, maple sugar, blood and rage.

There is so much I want to say and haven't any idea how to express it. Maybe it's because it's not yet time. Maybe thoughts need to percolate some more. Or maybe I'm afraid to write because once I start, the ugly will pour out.

The Dixie Chicks new song "Not Ready To Make Nice" has really cut to my core. I feel their anger and in listening to the song, it reflects mine back at me. I am uncomfortably reminded that I can no longer hide or stuff the rage I've carried for 46 years.

The rage that began at birth because my parents saw my cunt and therefore emotionally castrated me. The rage that comes when your body may appear to be one thing but you know that inside you are the opposite of those assumptions, making the complete package to be a mix of both. The rage that comes from people forcing you to choose sides because "that's really your tribe." The rage that stems from a society that doesn't allow for a blurring of edges.

The rage that comes from using "if, then" statements on humans such as "if a boy, then..."

The rage that comes from years of being told to "shut up and just sing". The rage that comes from the stealthy sexism we ALL carry inside. The sexism that allows the quiet man to be respected as the strong, silent type while the atypically quiet female (nonchatty) is regarded as cold and unapproachable. She is always told "you need to make more of an effort to connect and engage."

The rage that comes with the assumptions that I am not to paint because I am born to be mother. The rage that comes from being shunned and ignored because I am not the one to carry the family name. The shortsightedness that doesn't even realize the possibility that it may be my work, my creation, my paintings, my words that may also carry our name into the future, regardless of the fact that the idea a surname being so damned important is a ridiculous idea anyway.

The rage that comes with being told you are not to question why because well, that's the way it is…the way it's always been and therefore leads to the way it is meant to be and will always be.

Tuesday night I dreamt I was running through the woods. My legs were being ripped and shredded with every single step. I was bleeding buckets. Looking down, I saw the blood and was surprised I didn't feel any pain.

I woke.

Later the next morning, while in session with my shrink I relayed my dream. As the words poured forth, a new awareness came to the light.

"Everywhere I turn I get cut up, bruised and wounded. I've grown up bleeding. I still bleed. Out of a need for survival, I stopped feeling the pain. No one can live with that much pain and remain sane."
A moment of silence, and then another realization. Softy, I then added "The reason I am an intense masochist in my s/m play is because that is my safe place to feel the pain and scream."

It's spring, maple sugar time. My tree is being tapped. Not only the sadness, but the anger…the rage…MY rage, is pouring in a steady stream.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Guess what I did on my lunch hour?

I went to a free bluesy/type concert featuring Jackie Greene at the Triple Door, downtown.

My coworker (the nonmusician) popped into my office…about 10 minutes before noon.
"Gaggie, wanna go to a free concert?"
"Groovy...let's go!"

KMTT offers free concerts and he had snagged two seats. Jackie Greene is playing a full set tonight in addition to the lunchtime quickie concert. Great singer/songwriter. He was alone, with his guitar and harp. Raw and wonderful. Just the way I like 'em.

The Triple Door is a venue I'd never before attended. Talk about luxurious. It seats 300…every seat is perfect. Booths….tables…waiter service. I guess it's how the Microsofties do folk concerts. I'm used to seeing them back east in venues such as the Stone Church in Newmarket, NH or bars or old garage type places with concrete floors, and drafty rooms.

The acoustics were great. The concert was fabulous. I'm definitely picking up his latest CD American Myth.

Lyrics from "I'm So Gone" from his newest cd:

Oh, how nothing is sacred!
Just do what you do just to survive
But show me something that’s naked
And I’ll show you something that’s alive.

I love my job.
And I love singer/songwriters.
Life is messy.

Morford writes about it in today's column.

"This is what we're learning: It does not matter if you're Christian or gay or bi, Mormon or neocon or a rainbow-colored leather-clad bear with hair where your legs used to be. Issues arise. Emotions tumble forth. There is, apparently, no perfect way. There is no ideal family structure and quit pointing to your Bible before you hurt yourself -- rule No. 1 in all matters reproductive: Never trust musty dogmatic mythology written by angry old men who never had sex. Duh.

We do know one thing. There are only a few key ingredients that work every single time. They are: stability, deep love, laughter, honest communication, solid boundaries, human kindness, balance and chocolate ice cream. That's about it. There is only the impulse to love and connect and carry on. And maybe, now and then, a good hot bath."

Reading my horoscope from Rob Brezsny's Freewill Astrology reminded me of something I read yesterday.

For Capricorns:

"In the Bible's Book of Exodus 34:14, God says His name is "Jealous." Literally. Why isn't this fact more widely discussed by people who care about religion? In his book 50 Things You're Not Supposed to Know, Russ Kick says it's because America's Pledge of Allegiance would have to be altered to say, "one nation, under Jealous," and would lead to a redesign of U.S. currency, in which the motto "In God we Trust" became "In Jealous we trust." Your assignment, Capricorn, is to withdraw your support for any deity that calls himself or herself "Jealous"--even as you also renounce any impulse in you that indulges in jealousy. It's time to drive home to yourself how insane it is to compare your life to anyone else's. You're perfect the way you are."

I love that...."one nation, under Jealous". Powerful, isn't it?

It brought to mind an excellent piece that Chris highlighted yesterday. Penn Jillette wrote There Is No God for NPR's This I Believe.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Bravo Dixie Chicks!

If you go to their homepage you can check out the Dixie Chicks first single, "Not Ready To Make Nice", off their new album. It's brilliant...and ballsy.

Thanks to Nunsequitur for the tip.

Monday, April 10, 2006

The first question of our lives~

I have so much to write but it will have to wait. Still being really sick means a day at home in bed. With this, in my few moments of blessed clarity instead of cold-induced fogginess, I hope to put together some thoughts for an entry.

You see, I've been carrying something that revealed itself Wednesday in therapy. With the full weekend, I didn't have a chance to take it in, see how it feels, mourn....whatever. Thursday morning on the plane, it came to the forefront for a few minutes. The sadness flooded over me for a short spell and tears spilled over. I believe I tucked it away then because I needed to be present to the unfolding weekend.

It made for a complex weekend. I would immerse myself in what was in front of me, enjoying...delighting in... while at the same time feel the undercurrent of darkness wrapped in shock. Small moments of this deep insight would periodically surface to then be pushed down because it wasn't the time to deal with it. There will be time enough for that.

For now, as a preface to what I need to sort out, here is a provocative thought my shrink shared with me today~

The first thing parents ask about their unborn or newborn...even before counting fingers and toes...
..."Is it a boy or a girl?"

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Whirlwind NYC trip~

I have met a ton of new folks...including the wonderful rogueboi, Jim, boymeat, Alex, Kit, Eric, anarchy_lime, danbearnyc and thrilled to finally meet boichick (although it was over dinner with 9 other folks at a wonderful Indian restaurant and I was so tired by then that I wasn't my normal buoyant self. I felt badly for that). It was also nice seeing Lolita and Thomas again. Spending all this extra time with my wonderful host, Matt, and Roger was fabulous. I love you guys.

I'm sure there are other names that I'm forgetting right now. I apologize. My head is quite foggy and stuffed up this morning.

AJ, I haven't had a chance to taste your recommendation yet. If time, I want to seek it out today!

Matt, Roger and Kerry were either getting over, in the middle of or beginning colds. Last sore throat began. I'm sick too. The timing is okay though. Better now than during the day yesterday.

The panel I was on appeared to go well. It felt good to me, and some of the feedback I received from participants was quite positive.

Yesterday afternoon was my indulgence. I finally met Nayland Blake. After meeting in a nice little french bistro in Chelsea and shared a wonderful lengthy conversation, we spent the remainder of the afternoon hitting art galleries in the neighborhood. It wa, on a few levels...fucking amazing. Powerful. Thank you Nayland. Very much.

Tonight I return home. Not sure yet what today's plans are.
Tomorrow...I will sleep for days. And more days.

Friday, April 07, 2006

I'm here!!

Barely awake and functioning...but I'm sitting on the couch at Matt's. It's great to be in NYC. Up at 5 am yesterday Seattle time, I hopped a plane at 8:30. Touched down at JFK at 4:30 and immediately found my way to Brooklyn where I had time to drop my bags and we headed out, into Manhattan. A quick burger on the run and then we popped into TES...a tad late and met some LJ folks (yeah!). From there, late night food and back home by 1:30 finally fall asleep only to be up by 7:30 am.

It was a very full, busy, frenetic, fun day. Today is going to be a long day, so an afternoon nap is definitely on my schedule. I am going to be one tired pup when I return to Seattle. This is quick and rushed for now, but I'll write more when I get the opportunity.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Today is a full day. After work, there is laundry and packing to do. I want to clean my apartment before I leave tomorrow morning because after a trip I love returning to a fairly picked up home. And I still have to gather my thoughts for the LLC panel on Leadership and Service.

I've noticed I've been distancing myself a little from blogging. Stuff is still difficult and I'm working my ass off in therapy. It seems, with time, I'm feeling more and more protected. Cherished. Right now, I'm keeping myself within that cocoon and won't share this particular part of my process. It's a delicate magic.

Three things for this Wednesday.

Every day, I receive an email from Tricyle. It's a little daily dharma thought. Most of the time I briefly scan and delete. If it's too wordy or heady, too much "zen speak" (as I call it) I'll delete without engrossing myself in the thought. It doesn't make sense to write out a simple and possibly powerful idea in some jargon that does a better job at distancing people instead of connecting. It separates by the mere fact of how language is used in conveying an idea. I see this problem in many industries and have very little patience for that type of writing. It smacks of elitism.

Today's little blurb, by Pema Chodron, struck me. It's powerful and breaks apart assumptions.

"When people start to mediate or to work with any kind of spiritual discipline, they often think that somehow they're going to improve, which is a sort of subtle aggression against who they really are. It's a bit like saying, "If I jog, I'll be a much better person." "If I could only get a nicer house, I'd be a better person." If I could meditate and calm down, I'd be a better person."...

But loving-kindness--maitri--toward ourselves doesn't mean getting rid of anything. Maitri means that we can still be crazy after all these years. We can still be angry after all these years. We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness. The point is not to try to throw ourselves away and become something better. It's about befriending who we are already. The ground of practice is you or me or whoever we are right now, just as we are. That's the ground, that's what we study, that's what we come to know with tremendous curiosity and interest."

--Pema Chodron, The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Loving-Kindness

Very nice.

Here is Rob Brezsny's Freewill Astrology.

Morford expounds upon fear in Who Will Stop The Evil Jogger?

"This commercial, it is your microcosm. It is your slice of bloody American pie wrapped in guns and dread and idiocy. Here is what you do: Replace yuppie couple with Mr. and Mrs. Taxpaying American. Replace cheesy overly manicured badly decorated yuppie McMansion with Red-Blooded Conservative Midwestern Anytown USA. Replace jogger with swarthy fundamentalist Muslim waving a Koran and burning an American flag on CNN. Voilà! Instant familiar scenario of hate, instant cultural justification for hurling up walls of insularity and intolerance and ignorance."

It's a good rant.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Don't you hate it when... spend two days working a spreadsheet of 6024 rows and 26 columns divided into 7 worksheets...finally send it off, then for some unknown nagging reason decide to pull stats early only to discover the numbers don't make sense? From there you go back, look at what you emailed out and notice that on the original worksheet you somehow shifted the columns and so, when sorting data…it contaminated all the numbers.

Quickly you call the people you sent it to and calmly tell them to dump the file because you'll have a fresh one for them tomorrow.

Good thing I caught it...but it is unsettling. I've pulled this report twice a year for the last 5 1/2 years and this is a first.

Being National Poetry Month, some of my friends' pages in LJ land are filling with delicious verse.

In recognition of Poetry Month, here are two lines I've kept to myself for over 10 years. Playing with poetry magnets, way back when, these words fell into place. Although I am so not a poet, I once made an attempt to create a full poem based on the lines, but it felt forced and lifeless. So I chucked it, and kept my two lines. They are still on my refrigerator at home, reconstructed after each move, with poetry magnets.

voidless seas of languid time
chant to shadows in my mind

Some days these words become mantra-like.

Now for really good stuff. Although probably very familiar, I will still give you a bit of T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land because it deeply resonates at this time of my life.

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for n hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

To read the whole thing

Monday, April 03, 2006

Spring is amazing…

I took a short walk after lunch to clear my head. On the way back, I turned down a street I rarely step onto. Both sides of the street were filled with fully blossoming cherry trees. Pink clouds when looking up and pink carpet at my feet.

No matter how big the pain, how large the black hole, as long as I continue to notice and revel in the small things around me, I know I'll not only make it through, but will be more than okay.
Before I forget, here are Eric Francis' monthly horoscopes for April - Planet Waves and Inner House.
Meaningless but fun little tidbit, especially for the few of us who have an odd fetish for numerical order:

For the first and final time in this century, on Wednesday morning of this week, at two minutes and three seconds after 1 a.m., the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06

Sunday, April 02, 2006

One thing leads to another...

It was going to be a day of errands but I've resigned myself to my first idea...a day of doing nothing. Nothing except for cheesy dvd rentals, and bad foods from the frozen food aisle. I considered rounding folks up for brunch...crabs benedict are calling. Although the desire is there, the spirit williing, the flesh screams... "Alone!!!" The craziness of my schedule the last few days is making brunch impossible. I am oversaturated with people energy.

Fruitful bbq yesterday.
On the back patio, I scanned the small crowd. Being the first of the season, I didn't expect a full house. The weather was a little cool. But the folks that gathered, are those who don't regularly do the bar scene. And, as far as I could tell, none are involved in community orgs or politics. Just a bunch of folks who play in informal groups or privately and enjoy coming out for these events. Many told me that very thing. We are the reason they attend our bbq's. The energy out back, with the food, blacking and relaxed, easy and most times very sexy.

One man asked me, "so what do you do for the leather community?"
I smiled and said "play as much as possible!"
He laughed and got it. " aren't a titleholder or something."
"No. Energy being a commodity, I'd rather use it for play...and afternoons like this, because they get me off."

Friday night, before the party, I bumped into a couple friends while at Septieme, a Daddy and his boy. As we were talking, I shot out some blunt remark. The older man responded.. "that's why I like you. You have bigger balls than most of the men I know."
My quick response, "it's because I don't fit. I have nothing to prove."

Those words have been rattling around in my head. On my very strong, confident days, it is true. The sad thing is, days like that, crap...moments like that, don't happen very often. Most of the time, I struggle between maintaining my integrity by not shapeshifting, or gagging myself and hiding in a dark hole. When I do emerge from that place I feel like a friggin' bull in a china shop. Ungraceful, arrogant, awkward and very clumsy.

Everything right now is heightened and is being felt in a sharp manner. All emotions. Lately, most days I force myself to blog because it would be too easy and comfortable to disappear. Right now, hiding wouldn't be a good thing.

Again, it's quite fascinating to experience this internal conundrum while I'm in a place where, with all that's on my calendar, I'm physically exposing myself more. I have to fight the urge to hide my genuine reality. There are little voices in my head that constantly whisper "oh...don't show your weaknesses right now. What will others think? You need to present a strong positive image." Every day I consciously need to squash the voices. If I can't continue to be real and keep my blog in the manner and intent of its creation...well...then something's wrong.

The other reason it's become more difficult is because I began this forum as an anonymous writer. After 3 years of beginning my blog, I have gotten to know some of those who read my words. Wonderful fabulous people. increases my hesitancy with exposure.

I know my honesty makes many people uncomfortable. I'm sorry it does but you can choose not to read. Whether or not I know the audience, most things are kept to myself...or shared only with my intimates. Even with that, each time I write, the question "is this too much?" looms large.

Look at it. Silly looking word.


"Too" is an evil word. "Too" destroys the idea of possibility. "Too" limits.

I grew up with "too". Too emotional. Too much. Too shy. Too intense. Too everything.
It's one of my big demons. The nasty Top Too. It has large red eyes and fangs dripping with green pus. Not pretty. Neither is too.

Too is a word that squashes. Too is a verbal gag. It is no surprise that I detest gags. Hoods I can handle and love, but gags enrage me. It's a hard limit for me, although if someone wants to go there, I will. They just better be prepared and capable of handling my reaction.

Maybe too is better used with inanimate objects. "Oops, I filled the tank with too much gas."
"Damn, these shoes are too small."
"This bed is too soft."

Maybe too has no, or very little business being used with people. I'm sure there are some exceptions.

The shrink, a few years back, began to harp about my use of too. I knew what he was getting at but it would still piss me off. Now I understand why he would insist I let it go. Too is really branded into my consciousness, my identity. It is a word that needs...that must be excavated from my being.

And now while I consider the impact of digging out, it's time to fill up other things, such as my belly.
I'm hungry.
Enjoy your spring forward day.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

The morning after.

It's 12:30 and I'm still waking up. It doesn't matter that I've gone for a walk and soaked my sore and welted body in a warm bath. Slow going today. But, it's time to get geared up for the Eagle BBQ/fundraiser.

Last night was a fun play night. I'm not going into detail except to say my butt is sore and there are some nasty dark bumpy bruises. My back is covered with long, thin very red welts. It's not from a singletail, although it felt very much like one. More encompassing than the whip. The dungeon monitor didn't know what to make of my screams...nor did some of the people hanging around. I'm not a 'from the throat screamer'. Instead, it comes from the belly and is sometimes accompanied by growling. A few people approached the top afterwards to ask what she was hurting me with. Just looking, it appeared that my torso was wrapped in a thin rope. Innocent, mild enough.
Very evil.
Absolutely delicious.

I know I've shared a good scene when I slide into bed and can't find one position that's comfortable. :-)

Now off to face my day.