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
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
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?
…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.
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 bear...today 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 beast...my 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.
Surprised...in 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.
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 bear...today 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 beast...my 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.
Surprised...in 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 PrideFoundation.org.
------------------------
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 PrideFoundation.org.
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.
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?"
"Sure…when?"
"Now."
"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.
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?"
"Sure…when?"
"Now."
"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.
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.
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?"
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 night...my sore throat began. Yup...now 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.
:-)
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 night...my sore throat began. Yup...now 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 am...to 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.
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 am...to 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.
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...
...you 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.
Sigh.
...you 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.
Sigh.
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
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.
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.
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 buzzing...is 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. "So...you 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. And...it 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.
Too.
Too.
Look at it. Silly looking word.
Too.
"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.
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 buzzing...is 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. "So...you 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. And...it 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.
Too.
Too.
Look at it. Silly looking word.
Too.
"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.
Deceptive.
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.
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.
Deceptive.
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.
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