In response to our government's position that not only is abstinence for children but for adults as well, go see Shortbus. Go see it over and over and over again. Let's assist in making this small, most incredibly brilliant film a big success by moving our activism to box office dollars.

In addition....have a fucking lot of sex. With people. By yourself.
Use a bottle...toys, shoes, cigars, food, fists, fingers.
Masks, hoods, gloves.
Rubber.
Sleepsacks. Cages.
Latex. Darlex.
Leather and lace.

And skin. Lots of skintoskintoskintoskin.
Taste the flesh.

Tie yourself up.
Tie someone else up.
Fuck.
Suck.
Screw.
Bite.
Kiss.
Hug.
Tease.
Taunt.

And don't forget to cum, and cum and cum again.

For the most radical sexual act - Become more intimate with yourself.

Those fuckers in Washington have hit one of my last nerves. If they all had a helluva lot more sex and better sex, they wouldn't be so cranky about everyone else's pleasure. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we all need to be screwing instead of screwing over.

And they call us obscene and perverse?

Fucking bastards.

p.s. Check out the uncensored version of the trailer. That is, if you are considered an adult in the state you live in.

I've been pretty quiet, intentionally choosing solitude. There is a lot happening - much joy and many challenges.

Yesterday, I needed to go in for a procedure. The technician and the physician were amazing. Never before have I encountered health care professionals other than my doctor, who were so kind and in their gentleness and honesty, considering the context, pretty much put me at ease.

Life continues to be one new lesson after another. Insights are coming fast and furious. I booked a second therapy appointment for this week because the revelations are massive. The present is being used to make sense of the past.

While at work yesterday, I received a very beautiful gift in the mail. It brought back so many rich memories. I used those thoughts to keep me calm during the procedure, imagining the chair in the room wasn't empty.

I began drawing again on Friday. It was an explosive work session, tapping into places I'd dreamt of but never before dared to go.

Due to this, I never managed to put the art pieces in the mail. This week. They will go out this week.





I like shadows. Don't you?

Giant Pumpkin

Sound Garden

Tonight's big dinner question...

..thanks to Qnetter:
Where does the hair for merkins come from?

This led to our bad bumpersticker idea:
"Got a gherkin for your merkin."

Yesterday, although a work day, was spent in a glorious enviroment filled with vibrant foliage.







Cedar River Watershed has an amazing water feature - the Rain Drum courtyard. It was creating by artist, Dan Corson, in the 1% for Art program.

From the website for Seattle's Office of Arts & Cultural Affairs:

"Twenty-one drums, representing different cultures, are placed in an exterior courtyard of vine maples. When rains fall, the water collects on the leaves, drips and sounds the rain drums. When it is dry, a computer will simulate not only rain, but also create pre-programmed rhythms recognizable as representative of various cultures and contemporary ethnically inspired compositions. These computer activated drippers are programmed with rhythms of various cultures including Native American, Afro Cuban and Balinese, and will, at various times, mimic the rain. Among the drum shapes used, and the cultures from which they were derived, are: Frame Drums (Native American, Celtic, Middle East); Djembes (African "healing drum"); Congas (Cuban); Standing Ngomas (West African); Nagado Taiko (Japan, Korea) and Djun Djuns (African).

Artist's Statement: "I wondered how to turn the experience of sitting in the watershed's old growth forests and moss covered stands of vine maples while listening to the hypnotic pattern of rain on the leaves into art. While in Bali months earlier, I had heard of some drums that were designed to be played by rain. Although I searched and never found any examples, the idea of those drums became strongly rooted into my mind. Weaving in the idea of technology and the universal expression of music and rhythm, I worked with engineers, landscape architects, drum fabricators and musicians to bring this artwork to life. The project is designed to allow for different rhythms to be added and changed as the seasons and years cycle."


Hearing those drums is grounding.

I did something I haven't done in just over a month.

B. and I headed by to my apartment after lunch. He was going to tweak my computer, and reconfigure my wireless connection because it was cranky. He hasn't seen any of the drawings I'd been working on since July.

By the time I went to NYC, I was pretty burnt out on this series. I had been living, face to face with the work for over 2 months. Upon my return to Seattle, I never opened the portfolio. Until today.

I spread the larger pieces out, covering the living room floor.
We looked. While he continued to immerse himself in the work, I stepped away a bit, looking from a distance and then...memory filled me.

The larger drawings are exciting. Grouped together, they are incredibly sexy.
It's the best thing I've done to date. It was good to take a break from it because it allowed me to see them with fresh eyes. Some pieces felt as if I were viewing them for the first time.

And it showed me that I am not through with this series. Soon, I will be ready to dive back in.

I'm taking today off, in addition to my normal Friday because we have our annual fall staff/board retreat on Saturday. Whee!
Right.

The one groovy thing is the location. Normally we are at the Arboretum in Seattle. This year, we are headed to the Cedar River Watershed, about 45 minutes east of Seattle. It's a very pretty location. I've worked a catering gig there a few years back. So, I'll head up early and bring my camera just in case the desire to document returns.

I haven't been able to draw or take photos since Sunday afternoon. It's not a matter of depression. I'm alright. But I still feel ripped open. Fragile. Especially vulnerable. I'm trying to let myself be okay with this state, knowing the slashed feeling is temporary.

Today, I meet with a friend at Septieme. I'll bring the laptop and go extra early. There's a piece of writing that I know now needs to be complete: my thoughts and experiences on service. It is time. Because of how therapy has changed me, service has become a complex idea. I was no longer sure if service, in a leather context, was still a part of my life.

For about 6 months, I would periodically open the draft, look at it, maybe add something, or maybe not. Most times I would simply stare at the words on the page, wondering how I fit.

Last night I shared a powerful experience and within that, reclaimed my spirit of service.


Life is so not boring.

Things.
Stuff.
Links.
Good quotes.
Art.

While zoning out on episodes of "West Wing" on Monday, I caught one of my favorites from season 3, "U.S. Poet Laureate".

In one scene, the poet said:
"Do you think that I think that the artist's job is to speak the truth? An artist's job is to captivate you for however long we've asked for your attention. If we stumbled into truth, we got lucky. And I don't get to decide what truth is...."

A bit later she says:

...I write poetry... That's how I enter the world."

Within that conversation she began to recite Ginsberg's Howl:

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From Brezsny's email...something about Sacred Underwear~

"The saffron robes of Tibetan monks and black habits of nuns are outer
signs of their devotion. But among religious devotees there's also a
tradition of wearing hidden clothing that's charged with symbolic
meaning--in other words, sacred underwear.

Some Mormons, for instance, regularly slip on a white neck-to-knee
garment that's meant to remind them of their pact with God. Orthodox
Jewish men may wear tsitsit, a fringed cloth, beneath their basic black.
For especially devout Catholics, the sacred underwear is called a scapular.

French philosopher Blaise Pascal had his own non-denominational version.
At the height of an intense epiphany, he scrawled prayerful poems on a
parchment, and forever after wore it under his clothes.

We recommend the practice to you: Design or find your own sacred
underwear. You could draw magical glyphs on your briefs. Stuff a talisman
in your bra. Write a prayer on an undershirt or slip. Or do whatever
captivates your imagination. This will be a secret sign--between you and
the Divine Wow alone--of your spiritual intention. Except for the two of
you, no one else will know."

This week's Freewill Astrology.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morford column: Unmarried Tattooed Heathens, Ho!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday I saw this great quote:

"My grandfather was born in 1888 and he didn't have a lifestyle. He didn't need one: he had a life."
- Michael Bywater

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving little video. Please take 5 minutes to watch Miniature Earth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I_maenad highlighted a article in the NYTimes about an artist with alzheimer's. Check out Self-Portraits Chronicle a Descent Into Alzheimer’s" and especially the slide show of his self portraits. Powerful stuff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I noticed the latest munchies brought into the office for a meeting were a package of Oreos and milk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't going to write.
Still feeling quite raw since yesterday.


It's not a bad thing. As I wrote to someone close to me, for the first time I know I can make it through this, without the 3 days of therapy a week.

Yesterday's session was spent in tears. Feeling terrified. Very little.
I finally laid on the couch because it felt safe.

After leaving the shrink's office, I knew I'd been hit hard.
Spent a couple hours at work and needed to go home. My head was pounding. My insides were sick.
Zoned out on West Wing episodes for 5 hours because I didn't want to think. Craved numbness.

Then a hot bath for comfort.
It came to me.

I was dealing with my reality of old. The truth I had grown up with, that I claimed for myself my whole life:

I was not born for love.

My core wound.

This is the dark space I'm working through.
I need to face it, look at it, hold it, and in doing so, at some point declare a new truth.

Each day is a concerted effort to remain open. Not only open, but to offer myself.
Many times, it takes all I have to post an entry. It takes more strength to even post photos.

In holding only onto the old, damaging past, it won't allow for new life.

Since yesterday, I am carrying both - the ancient doomsayers and the reality of fresh, healthy blood.
I see who I was…frozen, walled up for protection, and yet, in spite of all that…have no choice but to move forward, reveal myself, knowing based on history, it can be the death of me.

Yes, I am scared.

Therapy friggin' kicked my ass today.
Right now, I'd rather be in bed, under the covers, hiding from the world.

Seeing I'm at work, I'll do the next best thing.
All you're getting from me is the following link.

Seattle spent $200,000 for a new marketing campaign, seeing their other one "Say WA" did oh so well. Right.
What is Metronatural?
It is dumb.

Scroll down to the end. Some of the suggestions from readers are pretty funny.

Good morning.

Waiting for me in my mailbox this morning is my favorite spam subject thus far:

When she swallows your sperm with Spermamax it’s like she’s having a dinner.

Sometimes, chocolate is definitely needed. Or at least something chocolatety-ish, such as Ben & Jerry's Dave Matthews Band Magic Brownies ice cream. Sometimes, it's better than booze.

It was a good and tough day. I was productive and at the same time, a tad out of sorts. And satisfied, and odd. And happy. And sad.

The film was strange. It kicked me in the gut and left me shell-shocked when it was over. I needed to regroup. So, I opted for food (some of the roast and veggies) and then ice cream. Ice cream helps.

How'd my roast turn out?

Hmmm...very tasty. But not quite done.
I picked up a cut that I've never used before. It's much thicker. Plus I do believe my oven is off. So I popped it in the refrigerator last night, and a little bit ago, pulled it out, scraped off a little of the excess fat and it's in the oven. It should be done in another hour or so.

In the meantime, a load of laundry and back to the drawing board. Early afternoon, I'm headed to the film, Books Of James.


Busy, busy.
In a fun, happy, unstressed way. I am relishing this extra energy. It's the third day of oomph. What have I done differently? Not sure.

I wonder if it has to do with settling more into my skin and all the healing that's been taking place. Maybe it has something to do with trust. The more I open myself and trust, the greater the energy.
Keeping closed is exhausting.

My shrink used to say that the internal work I was engaged in is physically exhausting. Maybe...now that I'm coming out on the other side, I'm regaining my footing.

So, who knows, really?
What I do know is I am taking advantage of it.

Guess what I'm doing today?







Or as my neighbor said, "oh my gawd, call the Seattle Times. Bosslady is cookin'!"

It seems I have a rep.

An hour ago I had the hankerin' to cook a roast. You know, one of those cook on low heat for forever in the oven, drenched in burgundy with spices, potatoes, garlic, carrots and onions kind of roasts. The kind that falls apart with a fork when it's done.

I used to cook this often, when I used to cook. Over 8 years ago. Yes, it's been that long since I've made it. On average, I tend to really cook now about 3 or 4 times a year.

So, either it's an expensive experiment or I'll have 4 good, cheap meals. We'll see.
Right now, it's sitting...coated in seasonings.

And while it's cooking I can work on more drawings.
Or play with myself.

Or both.

This morning's quandry:

How horny is horny enough?



A quick shot of yesterday morning's sunshine in a corner of my living room.

Aha!
I've picked my must-see film from Seattle's Queer Film Fest -

Books Of James. I've linked to the film's official website. If you have a moment, check it out. It looks wonderful.

From the Seattle Queer Film Fest website:

"Inspired by a collection of personal notebooks, BOOKS OF JAMES is an experimental documentary on art, AIDS and activism. Based on the writing, drawing, video footage and personal revelation of James Wentzy, an artist/activist in New York City, the film illustrates the 30-year timeline from the late 1970s to the present, examining the changes in the social and political landscape of America. Following James from South Dakota to New York City, the film traces his days from struggling and surviving as an artist to later becoming an AIDS video activist. In showcasing a unique individual through his involvement with the fight against AIDS and his tireless frontline reportage of the crisis, BOOKS OF JAMES is an intimate portrait of a neglected everyman/hero and unearths a time now forgotten."

And...Books Of James is preceded by:

JEAN GENET IN CHICAGO; FrŽdŽric Moffet; 2006; Canada/US; 26 min; video.
A queer rewriting of the events surrounding the 1968 National Democratic Convention in Chicago from the point of view of French writer Jean Genet, featuring some surprise characters.

2 films!

It'll make for a good afternoon.

Today was the first day in a long time where not only my body felt more rested but so did my head. I was tempted to jump into all sorts of things, but chose to take it slow. A severe case of procrastination assisted with that.

A couple walks this morning and another tonight. One of them consisted of a cup of hot chai in one hand and my camera in the other. The air is getting colder. Walking back from dinner, a scarf and heavier coat would have helped. The coolness feels so good.

Tonight I'll peruse the queer film fest schedule and make a decision about a film or two for tomorrow. And more drawing.

There's been a major increase in horniness.

Our conference room tends to have nibbley bits after a spell of many meetings. The bowls will be filled with various nuts, fruit, candy...

'tis the season-









And am I the only one who thinks there is something very wrong with these?








It's Friday, and I actually have a spark of energy that hasn't been felt in a while. This is very good. So, after I down some breakfast, I'll probably jump into drawing...while the oomph is there.


Mark Morford wonders what would happen if humans disappeared. As he wrote, The Earth Grins At The Thought.

For the record:


I want to be somewhere else doing something else.

It's difficult to focus on what is currently in front of me, on my desk, right now.
And I've finally figured out that being mindful isn't beating myself up because I can't focus on the here and now, but actually being aware of my dissatisfaction and lack of focus.