I was reading a feminist blog yesterday, and the blogger in question had posted her opinion about prostitution. The short version is: she thinks it's bad. She thinks men who see prostitutes don't see women as human being and are using them "like toilets with pulses". She feels men think they have the right to buy sex and she thinks that's wrong.
(This is the link, if you want to go read what she said. It's long, I warn you. And even if you are opposed to her views, I would strongly advise against trying to debate with her, because I don't think that's what she's looking for.)
Naturally I myself don't agree with her, although of course she's entitled to her point of view. I did make a comment or two, but LiveJournal isn't always the best forum for such discussions, and then the author politely told me that she wasn't interested in what I had to say, so I politely left.
But I will paraphrase and expand on some of my thoughts here.
It's impossible to talk about prostitution like it's a thing, an institution. It is in a sense, but it's a really a collection of human interactions. It's like marriage that way - an institution, but one made up of many, many sets of two people. I was married once, and you know what - it wasn't a good experience for me. Does that make the entire institution of marriage bad? I don't think so.
So I don't go along with the theory that since some women are victimized by being forced to be prostitutes - and yes, this does happen, I'm not denying it – that if a woman chooses to be a prostitute, she's supporting the victimization of those other women. That doesn't follow. I also believe in a woman's right to have an abortion. There are women who are forced to have abortions. Does that mean that we should ban all abortions, everywhere, because those women's rights were violated? No. It's free choice, or the lack therof, that makes something right or wrong.
I don't think anyone has a "right" to buy sex. So, if there was no one who was willing to sell it, well, would-be customers would just be out of luck. But there are women who are willing to sell it, and I do think women should have the right to sell sexual access to their bodies. It's a question of ownership. Do I own this body I'm in or not? I think I do. And I think that as the owner and operator, I should the right to do with as I see fit. This dovetails with my beliefs about abortion rights – it's my body, it's my choice. As one of my favorite authors Pat Califia once said, "What I choose to do with my freedom may appall you, but it is none of your business."
I chose sex work because I've always felt strongly connected to my own sexuality and I know that I have a gift for understanding and nurturing other people's as well. I think the US is a very sex-negative society. I don't like that. As long as people are taught to hate and fear their own sexuality, they will hate and fear the people who stir those feelings in them. Part of what I try to teach people is some greater acceptance of their own sexuality, and I think I've had good success with that. I think I'm lucky to be self-employed in a career where I can do something I'm good at, something I think is worthwhile, and be paid well for it. I have total control over how and when and where I work, and I like that.
The downside is that most people don't understand and don't approve, and the legal issues. That, to me, is the part of being a sex worker that's most apt to be damaging: the pressure, the name-calling, the marginalization and isolation she may encounter. If she internalizes those beliefs - and for many women it's hard not to - she will start to hate herself, and with self-hatred comes a host of other self-destructive behaviors. But I think it's not the sex with men that's damaging these women, it's being told they're bad, dirty sluts. And I think it's unfortunate when the people calling them that think of themselves as feminists. That's not any brand of feminism I want to be a part of.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Thursday, June 02, 2005
In a shocking reversal of usual order of things, I'm putting up a link post today, instead Friday as I usually do. I'm just so full of surprises, aren't I?
I doubt the new column is up yet, although you can check. But the annoying thing is that with The Stranger site redesign, there no longer seems to be a way to link to the current issue. Each column is apparently assigned it's own unique URL, which makes all the links like the one on my sidebar there useless, since it will always take you to same damn column, even when it's a year old. I've written the webmaster about this and gotten no reply. Sigh. I'll let them iron out what are surely some other, major bugs with the new site, and then ask again. Until then, to read the newest column, go to www.TheStranger.com, and then click on "Columns" on the menu on the left, and then click on "Control Tower".
Stolen from a meme: the last four websites I visited...
Pronation Explained: No, not a nation of pro dommes. God, that's a scary thought. I'm merely shopping for new running shoes.
And then, the polar opposite of running shoes: Punitive Shoes. You can't say there's no truth in advertising. (And no, dear boy, I do not want any of these shoes. Are you mad?)
A very interesting editorial from the LA Times about the stem-cell research debate. At least, I thought it was interesting, since I support stem-cell research.
And then, some humor: I cried with laughter the first time I read this, and I still go there when I feel cranky, because it always makes me giggle. Weight Watchers recipe cards from 1974.
More substantial thoughts tomorrow...
I doubt the new column is up yet, although you can check. But the annoying thing is that with The Stranger site redesign, there no longer seems to be a way to link to the current issue. Each column is apparently assigned it's own unique URL, which makes all the links like the one on my sidebar there useless, since it will always take you to same damn column, even when it's a year old. I've written the webmaster about this and gotten no reply. Sigh. I'll let them iron out what are surely some other, major bugs with the new site, and then ask again. Until then, to read the newest column, go to www.TheStranger.com, and then click on "Columns" on the menu on the left, and then click on "Control Tower".
Stolen from a meme: the last four websites I visited...
Pronation Explained: No, not a nation of pro dommes. God, that's a scary thought. I'm merely shopping for new running shoes.
And then, the polar opposite of running shoes: Punitive Shoes. You can't say there's no truth in advertising. (And no, dear boy, I do not want any of these shoes. Are you mad?)
A very interesting editorial from the LA Times about the stem-cell research debate. At least, I thought it was interesting, since I support stem-cell research.
And then, some humor: I cried with laughter the first time I read this, and I still go there when I feel cranky, because it always makes me giggle. Weight Watchers recipe cards from 1974.
More substantial thoughts tomorrow...
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
What I'm reading lately…
Sex with Kings : 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman. "Kings had flings and extramarital relationships through much of European history, and in her first book, Herman offers, with relish and dry wit, a delightful overview of their sexual escapades... History made as buoyant as fiction."
That's about the sexiest thing I've read lately, because I'm exploring a new literary tangent. I recently finished a book called The Burma Road : The Epic Story of the China-Burma-India Theater in World War II. Now, I generally prefer the 1600s-1900s for my pop-history reading. But this book awoke in me a curiosity about both WW1&2, neither of which I know much about. So I went over to Half-Price Books – a very, very dangerous place for me to go - and perused the Military History shelves. I bought:
The First World War: A Complete History by Martin Gilbert. "Profusely illustrated and containing 50 maps, it is both entertaining and endlessly informative in aiding the reader in understanding the specifics of how this first great tragedy of our century occurred."
The First World War by John Keegan. "In a riveting narrative that puts diaries, letters and action reports to good use, British military historian Keegan delivers a stunningly vivid history of the Great War."
Myths and Legends of the First World War by James Hayward. "While incorporating details of wartime life, this book gives a refreshingly different perspective by looking at the rich crop of legends that sprang from the battlefields. Many of these myths still persist in the public consciousness even today."
I figured I'd start with WW1 and move onto WW2 later. Then I wandered into the "Espionage" section and my interest was caught by:
The Code Book: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography by Simon Singh. "The author explores the impact of cryptography, the creation and cracking of coded messages, on history and society. "
Code Breaking: A History and Explanation by Rudolph Kippenhahn. "Astrophysicist Kippenhahn attempts to introduce the general reader to the history of cryptology… more a collection of anecdotes and explanations than a standard history book, but interesting and hugely informative reading."
Secret Messages: Concealment Codes And Other Types Of Ingenious Communication by William S. Butler, L. Douglas Keeney. "Authors Butler and Keeney breezily survey the history of codes, ciphers and other forms of covert communication from smoke signals and Morse code to fraternity ties, gang colors and carefully stitched quilts, to name just a few."
And then I made myself leave, because I don't need to be bringing any more books into my house until I first take some out. It's getting a little scary in my office. The walls are covered, floor to ceiling, with shelves, and the shelves are all full. There's a sort of a path from the door to my desk, and a few little empty spots on the floor here and there. But mostly, there are stacks and stacks of books. When my cat knocks one of them over, it's like dominos - a whole line of them goes down. It's definitely time for a bibliographic purge around here.
Of course, that means going back to Half-Price Books, what a pity. But when I sell, I do try to leave there with fewer books than I came in with. Hey, it's progress.
Sex with Kings : 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman. "Kings had flings and extramarital relationships through much of European history, and in her first book, Herman offers, with relish and dry wit, a delightful overview of their sexual escapades... History made as buoyant as fiction."
That's about the sexiest thing I've read lately, because I'm exploring a new literary tangent. I recently finished a book called The Burma Road : The Epic Story of the China-Burma-India Theater in World War II. Now, I generally prefer the 1600s-1900s for my pop-history reading. But this book awoke in me a curiosity about both WW1&2, neither of which I know much about. So I went over to Half-Price Books – a very, very dangerous place for me to go - and perused the Military History shelves. I bought:
The First World War: A Complete History by Martin Gilbert. "Profusely illustrated and containing 50 maps, it is both entertaining and endlessly informative in aiding the reader in understanding the specifics of how this first great tragedy of our century occurred."
The First World War by John Keegan. "In a riveting narrative that puts diaries, letters and action reports to good use, British military historian Keegan delivers a stunningly vivid history of the Great War."
Myths and Legends of the First World War by James Hayward. "While incorporating details of wartime life, this book gives a refreshingly different perspective by looking at the rich crop of legends that sprang from the battlefields. Many of these myths still persist in the public consciousness even today."
I figured I'd start with WW1 and move onto WW2 later. Then I wandered into the "Espionage" section and my interest was caught by:
The Code Book: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography by Simon Singh. "The author explores the impact of cryptography, the creation and cracking of coded messages, on history and society. "
Code Breaking: A History and Explanation by Rudolph Kippenhahn. "Astrophysicist Kippenhahn attempts to introduce the general reader to the history of cryptology… more a collection of anecdotes and explanations than a standard history book, but interesting and hugely informative reading."
Secret Messages: Concealment Codes And Other Types Of Ingenious Communication by William S. Butler, L. Douglas Keeney. "Authors Butler and Keeney breezily survey the history of codes, ciphers and other forms of covert communication from smoke signals and Morse code to fraternity ties, gang colors and carefully stitched quilts, to name just a few."
And then I made myself leave, because I don't need to be bringing any more books into my house until I first take some out. It's getting a little scary in my office. The walls are covered, floor to ceiling, with shelves, and the shelves are all full. There's a sort of a path from the door to my desk, and a few little empty spots on the floor here and there. But mostly, there are stacks and stacks of books. When my cat knocks one of them over, it's like dominos - a whole line of them goes down. It's definitely time for a bibliographic purge around here.
Of course, that means going back to Half-Price Books, what a pity. But when I sell, I do try to leave there with fewer books than I came in with. Hey, it's progress.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
PhotoBlogging
A mixed bag today... First, some shots from my night-photography phase.
Night Chapel - From the Seattle University campus, The Chapel of St Ignatius. I liked the color reflecting off the pond.
Night Tunnel - I had a mild obsession with this tunnel for a while. It's an exit ramp off 99, and there's just something about it. It's creepy in an interesting way.
Toy Graveyard - I'm unclear about why these little tiny crosses had been set up like this in a Capitol Hill park - I think it was some kind of political protest - but they were visually arresting.
Others...
Black Sky - Infra-red series of Gasworks Park
Punks and Pup - snapped on Broadway. I used to walk down Broadway with my camera, and everyone who panhandled me, I'd ask them to pose for a picture first. I got some interesting shots - but this scene was was just a lucky catch.
And we have to have some naked girls.
Rose and The Door - I know, I'm obsessed with doorways. But they're so evocative.
HalfNude - And again...
A mixed bag today... First, some shots from my night-photography phase.
Night Chapel - From the Seattle University campus, The Chapel of St Ignatius. I liked the color reflecting off the pond.
Night Tunnel - I had a mild obsession with this tunnel for a while. It's an exit ramp off 99, and there's just something about it. It's creepy in an interesting way.
Toy Graveyard - I'm unclear about why these little tiny crosses had been set up like this in a Capitol Hill park - I think it was some kind of political protest - but they were visually arresting.
Others...
Black Sky - Infra-red series of Gasworks Park
Punks and Pup - snapped on Broadway. I used to walk down Broadway with my camera, and everyone who panhandled me, I'd ask them to pose for a picture first. I got some interesting shots - but this scene was was just a lucky catch.
And we have to have some naked girls.
Rose and The Door - I know, I'm obsessed with doorways. But they're so evocative.
HalfNude - And again...
Monday, May 30, 2005
Not That I'm Looking...
But it's entertaining to see what - or rather, who - is out there. So sometimes I cruise though the online personal ads and play "If I was looking, who would I write to?"
Naturally, a lot of the ads I see make me deeply grateful for Max and Roman. But there are some cuties out there. A few days ago, for example, I spied this pretty girl. (Click on through the "are you 18?" screen.)
I was startled for a moment, because she looks like someone else I know. But on closer examination - no, she's a stranger to me.
Why do I like her ad? Well, it's a good picture, for one thing. It's nice and clear and natural-looking and it conveys not only what she looks like but a sense of her personality. Kudos to her for showing her face, too. Neck-down photos just don't do it for me in personals. If you really feel you must obscure your face, well, okay. But the decapitated-torso shots are mildly disturbing.
She mentions "spanking" in her interests list, and calls herself submissive. Hard to say how much experience she's got, but that's a start.
Plus, you know, she's pretty. Yeah, call me shallow, but there it is. Nice smile, and I like her long dark hair.
Why I might not answer the ad: wow, she's young. Twenty-one? Jesus, she's a baby. Nothing against her, but there's just a lot you don't know when you're twenty-one. And if you're like me at twenty-one, you don't even know that you don't know. If you know what I mean.
I wish her ad said a little more about her - for example, what kind of thing she does for a living. Or is she in school? How about books she likes? Music? Movies? Favorite restaurants?
In spite of those petty quibbles, I'm guessing she's been deluged with responses, for all the reasons I mentioned. And I'm quite certain she's gotten a lot of email from guys that start out, "I know you said you were looking for a girl, but..." I hope she meets someone cool.
So, as I said - I'm not seeking another partner. But it's still fun to window shop.
But it's entertaining to see what - or rather, who - is out there. So sometimes I cruise though the online personal ads and play "If I was looking, who would I write to?"
Naturally, a lot of the ads I see make me deeply grateful for Max and Roman. But there are some cuties out there. A few days ago, for example, I spied this pretty girl. (Click on through the "are you 18?" screen.)
I was startled for a moment, because she looks like someone else I know. But on closer examination - no, she's a stranger to me.
Why do I like her ad? Well, it's a good picture, for one thing. It's nice and clear and natural-looking and it conveys not only what she looks like but a sense of her personality. Kudos to her for showing her face, too. Neck-down photos just don't do it for me in personals. If you really feel you must obscure your face, well, okay. But the decapitated-torso shots are mildly disturbing.
She mentions "spanking" in her interests list, and calls herself submissive. Hard to say how much experience she's got, but that's a start.
Plus, you know, she's pretty. Yeah, call me shallow, but there it is. Nice smile, and I like her long dark hair.
Why I might not answer the ad: wow, she's young. Twenty-one? Jesus, she's a baby. Nothing against her, but there's just a lot you don't know when you're twenty-one. And if you're like me at twenty-one, you don't even know that you don't know. If you know what I mean.
I wish her ad said a little more about her - for example, what kind of thing she does for a living. Or is she in school? How about books she likes? Music? Movies? Favorite restaurants?
In spite of those petty quibbles, I'm guessing she's been deluged with responses, for all the reasons I mentioned. And I'm quite certain she's gotten a lot of email from guys that start out, "I know you said you were looking for a girl, but..." I hope she meets someone cool.
So, as I said - I'm not seeking another partner. But it's still fun to window shop.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Today is Friday, and so the new column and the Kink Calendar are up.
Last night I took Annie Sprinkle and her partner Beth out to dinner after her reading at Toys In Babeland, and with us were Jake, his friend M, CandyGirl and Rossi, and Jae. Annie and Beth are both super-sweet people, and we had a great time. (Although I think perhaps I shouldn't go back to The Palace Kitchen anytime soon. Jae and I were telling our story about how we met, and it seems we attracted some attention. Hey, it's a little noisy in there, we had to raise our voices some. Get over it, people.)
Other entertaining things...
While the new page style makes for annoying reading, since the column is squeezed down so that it's about three words wide, Dan Savage's column is even more worth reading than usual this week. Dan gives us his take on a question about ethics and social responsibility.
I howled with laughter when I read this, because I can so totally relate. I'm guessing the author doesn't know how much she has in common with me. But I get all those "I wanna be a pro dom, tell me how," emails.... It's the comments, really, that are the funniest part. Make sure you read all the way down, it's hilarious.
This look fascinating - the audio file of her voice on the splash page is quite intriguing - but I can't seem to get the final connection to work. Has anyone successfully controlled the webcam?
Wife wants to charge her husband with adultery. Oh for christ's sake, woman, divorce his ass and get over it. But you will not, single-handedly, drag morality back into the last century. For one thing, do you know how many cops, judges and district attorneys have comitted adultery? And let's not ever get started with the higher-up goverment officials... (via Edifying Spectacle)
Last night I took Annie Sprinkle and her partner Beth out to dinner after her reading at Toys In Babeland, and with us were Jake, his friend M, CandyGirl and Rossi, and Jae. Annie and Beth are both super-sweet people, and we had a great time. (Although I think perhaps I shouldn't go back to The Palace Kitchen anytime soon. Jae and I were telling our story about how we met, and it seems we attracted some attention. Hey, it's a little noisy in there, we had to raise our voices some. Get over it, people.)
Other entertaining things...
While the new page style makes for annoying reading, since the column is squeezed down so that it's about three words wide, Dan Savage's column is even more worth reading than usual this week. Dan gives us his take on a question about ethics and social responsibility.
I howled with laughter when I read this, because I can so totally relate. I'm guessing the author doesn't know how much she has in common with me. But I get all those "I wanna be a pro dom, tell me how," emails.... It's the comments, really, that are the funniest part. Make sure you read all the way down, it's hilarious.
This look fascinating - the audio file of her voice on the splash page is quite intriguing - but I can't seem to get the final connection to work. Has anyone successfully controlled the webcam?
Wife wants to charge her husband with adultery. Oh for christ's sake, woman, divorce his ass and get over it. But you will not, single-handedly, drag morality back into the last century. For one thing, do you know how many cops, judges and district attorneys have comitted adultery? And let's not ever get started with the higher-up goverment officials... (via Edifying Spectacle)
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Female Trouble
I hate carrying a purse. I mean, I have one, this square sack on a shoulder-strap, kinda like a messenger bag. But I almost never carry it around with me. Being a non-purse-carrier is one of the not-very-girly things about me that occasionally causes a problem. Like a few days ago…
You see, since I don't carry my purse, I carry stuff in my pockets – money, my keys, my phone, my debit card, lists of errands, other people's business cards, Altoid's tins, all kinds of things. It's easier to do this in the cold weather, when I'm wearing a jacket with capacious pockets. Come summer, I have to consciously pare down a bit, lest I look bulgy.
But it was chilly, late last week, when I was getting ready to leave my dungeon after a session. Just as I was about to walk out my door, I remembered I had a piece of equipment I need to take home to look at, because it wasn't working right. I stepped into the playroom, snatched up the offending toy, and – of course – put it in my jacket pocket. And promptly forgot about it.
So, several days go by, I don't wear the jacket, and I think nothing of it.
Flash to: me in line at QFC, buying those extremely expensive grapes that I'm addicted to – you know, the perfectly round, crisp, tart ones. Love those. Too bad for me they're usually three or even four dollars a pound.
But that QFC Big-Brother-is-monitoring-your-purchases loyalty card gives you some break on the price. So when the checker brightly inquires, "Do you have your QFC advantage card?" I say, "Yes," and thrust my hand into my pocket.
I feel something sort of round, with a little plastic-y thing on it. It must be my key ring with that QFC tag on it, right? So I whip it out and start to give it to the pretty little red-haired cashier, who can't be more than twenty years old.
Only – it's not my key ring. It's this.
Whoops. Now answer me honestly – that looks like something perverted, doesn't it? I mean, even if you didn't know what it was – a PES electro-sex cockhead stimulator – wouldn't you look at that and think, That looks like something dirty?
Yeah. That's what I thought. (It doesn't help that I'm wearing a T-shirt which says, "Good Kitty Gone Bad." )
So I hastily snatched my hand back, stuffed the malfunctioning BDSM toy back into my pocket and found my bona-fide key chain, blushing all the while. When I looked back up at the cashier, she was giving me a curious look. She opened her mouth and took in a small breath, and I thought, Oh, please god, don't ask me what that was. I suck at inventing lies like that on the spot.
And then she just handed me my change and said, "Have a nice day."
I fixed the toy, by the way. But Jesus, I gotta find a purse I can actually stand to carry around with me.
I hate carrying a purse. I mean, I have one, this square sack on a shoulder-strap, kinda like a messenger bag. But I almost never carry it around with me. Being a non-purse-carrier is one of the not-very-girly things about me that occasionally causes a problem. Like a few days ago…
You see, since I don't carry my purse, I carry stuff in my pockets – money, my keys, my phone, my debit card, lists of errands, other people's business cards, Altoid's tins, all kinds of things. It's easier to do this in the cold weather, when I'm wearing a jacket with capacious pockets. Come summer, I have to consciously pare down a bit, lest I look bulgy.
But it was chilly, late last week, when I was getting ready to leave my dungeon after a session. Just as I was about to walk out my door, I remembered I had a piece of equipment I need to take home to look at, because it wasn't working right. I stepped into the playroom, snatched up the offending toy, and – of course – put it in my jacket pocket. And promptly forgot about it.
So, several days go by, I don't wear the jacket, and I think nothing of it.
Flash to: me in line at QFC, buying those extremely expensive grapes that I'm addicted to – you know, the perfectly round, crisp, tart ones. Love those. Too bad for me they're usually three or even four dollars a pound.
But that QFC Big-Brother-is-monitoring-your-purchases loyalty card gives you some break on the price. So when the checker brightly inquires, "Do you have your QFC advantage card?" I say, "Yes," and thrust my hand into my pocket.
I feel something sort of round, with a little plastic-y thing on it. It must be my key ring with that QFC tag on it, right? So I whip it out and start to give it to the pretty little red-haired cashier, who can't be more than twenty years old.
Only – it's not my key ring. It's this.
Whoops. Now answer me honestly – that looks like something perverted, doesn't it? I mean, even if you didn't know what it was – a PES electro-sex cockhead stimulator – wouldn't you look at that and think, That looks like something dirty?
Yeah. That's what I thought. (It doesn't help that I'm wearing a T-shirt which says, "Good Kitty Gone Bad." )
So I hastily snatched my hand back, stuffed the malfunctioning BDSM toy back into my pocket and found my bona-fide key chain, blushing all the while. When I looked back up at the cashier, she was giving me a curious look. She opened her mouth and took in a small breath, and I thought, Oh, please god, don't ask me what that was. I suck at inventing lies like that on the spot.
And then she just handed me my change and said, "Have a nice day."
I fixed the toy, by the way. But Jesus, I gotta find a purse I can actually stand to carry around with me.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Life As Me, This Week…
Well, what I can say about this week so far is that it's a few iotas less crazy than last week. Max and I had erotic photographer Michele Serchuk, from New York, staying with us over the weekend, and that was nice. She was in town to do a show at the Wet Spot. We'd not met her before, but of course, as a photographer, I'd heard of her. I've always admired her work, she shoots great stuff. She turned out to be very cool, I liked her. We talked about me modeling for her sometime, which I'd also like...
It's not uncommon for Max and I to have people we've never met, but whom we've heard of, come stay with us. Since we have a fairly large house with a nice spare bedroom, local sex-positive organizers often ask Max and I to host visitors. We like doing it, because we get to meet interesting folks. And tomorrow, we have another guest arriving - the "Porn Star and Prostitute turned Sex Guru and Performance Artist", Annie Sprinkle.
Yeah, that Annie Sprinkle. The legend of porn Annie Sprinkle. The "40 Reasons Why Whores Are My Heros" Annie Sprinkle. Staying at my house. I have met a fair number of leather/sex-positive celebrities in my time, but still - Annie Sprinkle. Coming to stay at my house. That's amazing.
I did get to meet her and hang out with her the tiniest bit several years ago and I thought she was just the sweetest, nicest person you could imagine. So I'm very pleased to get to see her again, and meet her partner, too.
And I said we have another guest arriving, but in fact - Annie and her partner, Elizabeth, will be staying with just me. Max decided, after we'd already agreed to host Annie, that he really wanted to go to Chicago for Shibaricon. So he flies out of here Thursday morning, missing Annie and Elizabeth completely. Roman's already gone, having hit the road for Chicago Monday. Gee, everybody's going to Shibaricon but me. Bummer, guess I'll have to stay home...all alone...with sex goddess Annie Sprinkle and her cute partner. Wow, that really sucks. Don't you all feel so sorry for me? But listen, don't drop by the house this weekend to keep me company or anything, alright? Especially if you hear shrieks of...no, never mind, just don't.
I'm joking. I don't really think that Annie and Elizabeth are going to jump me. (It's a charming idea, though, isn't it? Roman would be eaten up with envy, he's a big fan of hers.) No, they're here for the Queering Femininity Conference that's happening this weekend. I thought about registering for that, but in spite of the fact that organizer Aiden Key is a very dear old pal of mine and extremely cute, too - no. I've got another writing project I should be working on, and I think I'd rather just have a quiet weekend.
At least, as quiet as one can have, when one is spending said weekend with a sex goddess. Lordy, lordy, lordy...
Well, what I can say about this week so far is that it's a few iotas less crazy than last week. Max and I had erotic photographer Michele Serchuk, from New York, staying with us over the weekend, and that was nice. She was in town to do a show at the Wet Spot. We'd not met her before, but of course, as a photographer, I'd heard of her. I've always admired her work, she shoots great stuff. She turned out to be very cool, I liked her. We talked about me modeling for her sometime, which I'd also like...
It's not uncommon for Max and I to have people we've never met, but whom we've heard of, come stay with us. Since we have a fairly large house with a nice spare bedroom, local sex-positive organizers often ask Max and I to host visitors. We like doing it, because we get to meet interesting folks. And tomorrow, we have another guest arriving - the "Porn Star and Prostitute turned Sex Guru and Performance Artist", Annie Sprinkle.
Yeah, that Annie Sprinkle. The legend of porn Annie Sprinkle. The "40 Reasons Why Whores Are My Heros" Annie Sprinkle. Staying at my house. I have met a fair number of leather/sex-positive celebrities in my time, but still - Annie Sprinkle. Coming to stay at my house. That's amazing.
I did get to meet her and hang out with her the tiniest bit several years ago and I thought she was just the sweetest, nicest person you could imagine. So I'm very pleased to get to see her again, and meet her partner, too.
And I said we have another guest arriving, but in fact - Annie and her partner, Elizabeth, will be staying with just me. Max decided, after we'd already agreed to host Annie, that he really wanted to go to Chicago for Shibaricon. So he flies out of here Thursday morning, missing Annie and Elizabeth completely. Roman's already gone, having hit the road for Chicago Monday. Gee, everybody's going to Shibaricon but me. Bummer, guess I'll have to stay home...all alone...with sex goddess Annie Sprinkle and her cute partner. Wow, that really sucks. Don't you all feel so sorry for me? But listen, don't drop by the house this weekend to keep me company or anything, alright? Especially if you hear shrieks of...no, never mind, just don't.
I'm joking. I don't really think that Annie and Elizabeth are going to jump me. (It's a charming idea, though, isn't it? Roman would be eaten up with envy, he's a big fan of hers.) No, they're here for the Queering Femininity Conference that's happening this weekend. I thought about registering for that, but in spite of the fact that organizer Aiden Key is a very dear old pal of mine and extremely cute, too - no. I've got another writing project I should be working on, and I think I'd rather just have a quiet weekend.
At least, as quiet as one can have, when one is spending said weekend with a sex goddess. Lordy, lordy, lordy...
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Monday, May 23, 2005
Complete text of a recent email....
Okay, let's leave aside the all-caps, and the multiple exclamation points that hurt my eyes to look at. Let's leave aside the fact that he's writing to a woman who describes herself as a dominant, not a submissive, and who has given not even the slightest hint that she's looking to be the (shudder) "roommate/anal sex slave/girlfriend" of someone who's several time zones away. Let's not spend any time attempting to puzzle out what it means, exactly, to be a "hardcore-artist". (A porn set-designer?) And let's try, very hard, not to conjure up a mental image of someone whose anus goes all the way to his core.
Hegelian?
As in, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel? The guy in my Philosophy 101 class? The philosopher whose writings are justly famous for being the most difficult to read? (No mean feat in philosophy texts, I assure you.)
I looked up "Hegelianism" and found this: "The monist, idealist philosophy of Hegel in which the dialectic of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis is used as an analytic tool in order to approach a higher unity or a new thesis." Oh, well, that makes it all perfectly clear, doesn't it? Right. I think Hegel wrote that definition himself.
You know, I don't mean to be unduly critical of such an obvious heartfelt and sincere plea for my attention. But before I start firing off naked pictures of myself to this so-irresistable gentleman, can someone please tell me just one thing: What the hell does Hegel have to do with ass-fucking?
YOU LOOK HOTTER THAN HELL!!! (deleted) IS MY NAME AND I AM A BIG-FUN, ULTRA-KINKY, DOMINANT, HARDCORE-ARTIST, HEGELIAN, VEGETARIAN (vegan), MILLIONAIRE (self made) , ANAL TO THE CORE, COMMANDER AND FREAK. I OWN A GORGEOUS, DOORMAN BUILDING APARTMENT IN A REALLY NICE PART OF MANHATTAN. I AM LOOKING FOR A NEW ROOMATE/ANAL SEX-SLAVE/GIRLFRIEND AND I THINK THAT YOU LOOK HOTTER THAN HELL SO LET'S CHAT RIGHT NOW!!!!!! MY USER NAME ON THE YAHOO, THE MSN AND ON THE AOL INSTANT MESSENGERS IS (deleted). MY E-MAIL ADDRESS IS ASSFUCKER @(deleted).COM BUT IF YOU'RE GOING TO E-MAIL ME PLEASE INCLUDE A PICTURE OF YOURSELF (clothing is optional). MY PHONE NUMBER IS (212) (deleted) AND/OR YOU CAN GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NUMBER TOGETHER WITH SOME TIMING INSTRUCTIONS SO I CAN CALL YOU . I AM BURNING-HOT FOR WHAT YOU GOT!!!!!!
Okay, let's leave aside the all-caps, and the multiple exclamation points that hurt my eyes to look at. Let's leave aside the fact that he's writing to a woman who describes herself as a dominant, not a submissive, and who has given not even the slightest hint that she's looking to be the (shudder) "roommate/anal sex slave/girlfriend" of someone who's several time zones away. Let's not spend any time attempting to puzzle out what it means, exactly, to be a "hardcore-artist". (A porn set-designer?) And let's try, very hard, not to conjure up a mental image of someone whose anus goes all the way to his core.
Hegelian?
As in, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel? The guy in my Philosophy 101 class? The philosopher whose writings are justly famous for being the most difficult to read? (No mean feat in philosophy texts, I assure you.)
I looked up "Hegelianism" and found this: "The monist, idealist philosophy of Hegel in which the dialectic of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis is used as an analytic tool in order to approach a higher unity or a new thesis." Oh, well, that makes it all perfectly clear, doesn't it? Right. I think Hegel wrote that definition himself.
You know, I don't mean to be unduly critical of such an obvious heartfelt and sincere plea for my attention. But before I start firing off naked pictures of myself to this so-irresistable gentleman, can someone please tell me just one thing: What the hell does Hegel have to do with ass-fucking?
Friday, May 20, 2005
Today is Friday, and thus, the new column and the Kink Calendar are up. Seems the Stranger site has gotten an overhaul, don't be startled that it looks different.
The play last night, "Bach at Leipzig", was good. I can see why it's been called wordy, but I don't mind a bit of repetition as long as they say it funny, and they did. But that's just me - most of the time, if it's got guys wearing ruffled shirts and powdered wigs, I'm down with it.
A few other items of information and entertainment...
This looks like someplace I'd like to visit. Banya 5, an urban spa and health facility.
Entertaining rant about BDSMers by a guy whose viewpoints often (though not always) line up with mine. So naturally he must be right.
Wired's take on porn workers blogs.
The perils of bondage on the first date.
Oh, some of those moves look so familiar..The Virtual Stripper.
And lastly, prompted by nothing in particular: The LLC III BDSM vs Abuse statement.
The play last night, "Bach at Leipzig", was good. I can see why it's been called wordy, but I don't mind a bit of repetition as long as they say it funny, and they did. But that's just me - most of the time, if it's got guys wearing ruffled shirts and powdered wigs, I'm down with it.
A few other items of information and entertainment...
This looks like someplace I'd like to visit. Banya 5, an urban spa and health facility.
Entertaining rant about BDSMers by a guy whose viewpoints often (though not always) line up with mine. So naturally he must be right.
Wired's take on porn workers blogs.
The perils of bondage on the first date.
Oh, some of those moves look so familiar..The Virtual Stripper.
And lastly, prompted by nothing in particular: The LLC III BDSM vs Abuse statement.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
All About Me
Wow. This week has been, whew, crazy-busy, and it's not over yet. The client line, which had been a tad quiet, suddenly refused to stop ringing. I had busy days at the dungeon Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, plus dinner with Miss K and a sweet sleep-over date with Roman, not to mention going to the gym, and the dentist, and several other pesky real-life obligations.
Then last night I had a speaking engagement at UW, which was most enjoyable - the campus Planned Parenthood group asked me to come talk about BDSM to them, which I was pleased to do. Nice group of kids, asked good questions.
Today I have some sweet boys coming to see me, and then Max and I have our season tickets for the Act tonight - it's something called "Bach at Leipzig", which didn't sound promising to me until I read the blurb, which called it " a farcical escapade of entrances, exits, and witty rapiers of dialogue as six little-known musicians scheme, bribe, blackmail and audition in an attempt to secure the most coveted musical post in all Europe." Okay, I'll see most anything with the words "farcical" and "witty" in it.
On top of everything else, I'm still sort of recovering from having thrown a party for Max's birthday last weekend. The party was great, but doing big parties always leaves me sort of exhausted afterwards, because it's just a lot to plan and execute. At least, it is the way I do it.
I did have some help, though. Aside from Max himself, who is, of course, half of the party-planning home team, I also had Roman help me with music, answer the door a bit during the party itself, and facilitate me getting some fabulous food. And during the party itself, I had Calvin, Laura and Galahad.
Calvin and Laura were my party support crew and they were fabulous. They answered doors, took coats, served drinks, kept the food looking nice, and handled our guest's various needs with aplomb. Because of them I was able to drink champagne, talk to people, and actually have fun at my own party. They rock.
And then there's Galahad, who should ditch his current career plans and become a chef, because he cooked up a ton of gorgeous food on Saturday afternoon and brought it over, casting my tacky Costco frozen hor'dourves utterly into the shade. He rocks with two hands, as Roman would say. But you've ruined us all, Galahad, you know that. Just be aware that now Max and I will be wanting you for all our events. Even if you won't wear a Robin costume.
Wow. This week has been, whew, crazy-busy, and it's not over yet. The client line, which had been a tad quiet, suddenly refused to stop ringing. I had busy days at the dungeon Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, plus dinner with Miss K and a sweet sleep-over date with Roman, not to mention going to the gym, and the dentist, and several other pesky real-life obligations.
Then last night I had a speaking engagement at UW, which was most enjoyable - the campus Planned Parenthood group asked me to come talk about BDSM to them, which I was pleased to do. Nice group of kids, asked good questions.
Today I have some sweet boys coming to see me, and then Max and I have our season tickets for the Act tonight - it's something called "Bach at Leipzig", which didn't sound promising to me until I read the blurb, which called it " a farcical escapade of entrances, exits, and witty rapiers of dialogue as six little-known musicians scheme, bribe, blackmail and audition in an attempt to secure the most coveted musical post in all Europe." Okay, I'll see most anything with the words "farcical" and "witty" in it.
On top of everything else, I'm still sort of recovering from having thrown a party for Max's birthday last weekend. The party was great, but doing big parties always leaves me sort of exhausted afterwards, because it's just a lot to plan and execute. At least, it is the way I do it.
I did have some help, though. Aside from Max himself, who is, of course, half of the party-planning home team, I also had Roman help me with music, answer the door a bit during the party itself, and facilitate me getting some fabulous food. And during the party itself, I had Calvin, Laura and Galahad.
Calvin and Laura were my party support crew and they were fabulous. They answered doors, took coats, served drinks, kept the food looking nice, and handled our guest's various needs with aplomb. Because of them I was able to drink champagne, talk to people, and actually have fun at my own party. They rock.
And then there's Galahad, who should ditch his current career plans and become a chef, because he cooked up a ton of gorgeous food on Saturday afternoon and brought it over, casting my tacky Costco frozen hor'dourves utterly into the shade. He rocks with two hands, as Roman would say. But you've ruined us all, Galahad, you know that. Just be aware that now Max and I will be wanting you for all our events. Even if you won't wear a Robin costume.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Photos From the Archives
No landscapes today, kids...Unless you count the human body as one.
From the self-portrait era:
Downlight
Seen Through a Window
Jigsaw Nude
Other pretty people naked:
Needle Art
Rope In Motion
Jane, Not Quite Suspended
Luminous Nude
No landscapes today, kids...Unless you count the human body as one.
From the self-portrait era:
Downlight
Seen Through a Window
Jigsaw Nude
Other pretty people naked:
Needle Art
Rope In Motion
Jane, Not Quite Suspended
Luminous Nude
Monday, May 16, 2005
Sex Index
People sometimes ask me, "How many times have you done so-and-so?" The answer is usually, "I have no earthly idea." One of the downsides being a long-term sexual outlaw is that, unless you're a much better record-keeper than I am, you tend to lose track of certain things. For example, I could not tell you exactly how many GGB threesomes I've been in to save my life. (A lot. But even if I could come up with a number, then there's the whole issue of professional vs. non-professional to be considered.)
But there are some things I can still be specific about...
Beginnings
Age at which I lost my virginity: 17
Age at which I lost my lesbian-virginity: 18
Age at which I bought my first pair of leather bondage cuffs: 19
Age at which I stopped keeping a list of how many sexual partners I'd had, together with notes on performance: 23
Number at which I abandoned the list: 47
Social Life
Number of nudists clubs I've been to: 2
Number of swing clubs I've been to: 4
Number of sex club/bathhouses I've been to: 4
Number of private swing parties I've been to: 8
Number of spontaneous orgies (more than 4 people) I've participated in: 7
When I was still living with a parent: 2
On a night when my mother was arriving home from a trip out of town the next morning: 1
Shortest amount of time between meeting a man and having sex with him: 5 minutes (roughly)
Shortest amount of time between meeting a woman and having sex with her: 30 seconds (roughly)
Number of women I've had sex with whose name I did not know: 5
Ways and Means
Number of time I've had sex in a car: 4
While it was moving: 1
Number of times I have jerked off a guy with my feet: 5
When my partner asked me to: 3
Just because I wanted to see if I could: 1
To win a bet: 1
Number of times I've had sex in a public restroom: 12
Number of times I've done BDSM in a public restroom: 9
Number of times I've had sex (real, not simulated) and let someone photograph it: 1
Number of times I've had sex with someone who was dressed as an animal: 1
Number of times I've had sex in an elevator: 1
Number of times I've been caught having sex in an elevator: 1
Number of times I've watched two men have sex: 3
Number of times I've had a BBG threesome: zero
Making a Living
Age at which I began doing sex work: 18
Number of years since I've filled out a job application: 15
Number of times I've created a resume: zero
Number of times I've been asked to take off my clothes as part of a job interview: 3
Number of times I've complied with this request: 1
Number of different work names I've had throughout my career: 9
Number of times I've had a woman named "Destiny" as a co-worker: 14
Number of strip-club stages I've danced on that were about the size of a dinner plate: 4
Number of strip-club stages I've danced on that were larger than my apartment: 1
Number of escort services I've worked for that were run by a man: zero
Number of escort service-owners who've hit on me: 1
Number of times I've managed other employees in a sex-work business:1
Chances I would ever be willing to do so again: zero
People sometimes ask me, "How many times have you done so-and-so?" The answer is usually, "I have no earthly idea." One of the downsides being a long-term sexual outlaw is that, unless you're a much better record-keeper than I am, you tend to lose track of certain things. For example, I could not tell you exactly how many GGB threesomes I've been in to save my life. (A lot. But even if I could come up with a number, then there's the whole issue of professional vs. non-professional to be considered.)
But there are some things I can still be specific about...
Beginnings
Age at which I lost my virginity: 17
Age at which I lost my lesbian-virginity: 18
Age at which I bought my first pair of leather bondage cuffs: 19
Age at which I stopped keeping a list of how many sexual partners I'd had, together with notes on performance: 23
Number at which I abandoned the list: 47
Social Life
Number of nudists clubs I've been to: 2
Number of swing clubs I've been to: 4
Number of sex club/bathhouses I've been to: 4
Number of private swing parties I've been to: 8
Number of spontaneous orgies (more than 4 people) I've participated in: 7
When I was still living with a parent: 2
On a night when my mother was arriving home from a trip out of town the next morning: 1
Shortest amount of time between meeting a man and having sex with him: 5 minutes (roughly)
Shortest amount of time between meeting a woman and having sex with her: 30 seconds (roughly)
Number of women I've had sex with whose name I did not know: 5
Ways and Means
Number of time I've had sex in a car: 4
While it was moving: 1
Number of times I have jerked off a guy with my feet: 5
When my partner asked me to: 3
Just because I wanted to see if I could: 1
To win a bet: 1
Number of times I've had sex in a public restroom: 12
Number of times I've done BDSM in a public restroom: 9
Number of times I've had sex (real, not simulated) and let someone photograph it: 1
Number of times I've had sex with someone who was dressed as an animal: 1
Number of times I've had sex in an elevator: 1
Number of times I've been caught having sex in an elevator: 1
Number of times I've watched two men have sex: 3
Number of times I've had a BBG threesome: zero
Making a Living
Age at which I began doing sex work: 18
Number of years since I've filled out a job application: 15
Number of times I've created a resume: zero
Number of times I've been asked to take off my clothes as part of a job interview: 3
Number of times I've complied with this request: 1
Number of different work names I've had throughout my career: 9
Number of times I've had a woman named "Destiny" as a co-worker: 14
Number of strip-club stages I've danced on that were about the size of a dinner plate: 4
Number of strip-club stages I've danced on that were larger than my apartment: 1
Number of escort services I've worked for that were run by a man: zero
Number of escort service-owners who've hit on me: 1
Number of times I've managed other employees in a sex-work business:1
Chances I would ever be willing to do so again: zero
Friday, May 13, 2005
Today is Friday, and as usual, that means the new column and the Kink Calendar are up. And if, after reading the column, you'd like a link to Griffin's profile on Bondage.com , let me know.
Some kink in the news lately: this ABC story quotes our own lovely Allena Gabosch, director of the Wet Spot, and old pal of mine.
And another ABC story about sex research. (Hmmn, maybe Mr. Levitt and Mr. Dubner should talk to these folks before they publish another book, just in case they want to reference some more titillating examples.)
Interesting combination of art and confessional: "PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail-in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard."
This reads a bit like Mil Millington's humor, only poly: Why having two girlfriends is a really BAD idea...
A mathematical error: Apparently 666 is NOT the number of the beast. Everyone with those "665: Neighbor of the Beast" t-shirts? Sorry, you will now have to move.
Everyone please wish Max a Happy Birthday - it's tomorrow, the 14th. Yes, there will be a celebration. But no, he won't be getting spanked.
Some kink in the news lately: this ABC story quotes our own lovely Allena Gabosch, director of the Wet Spot, and old pal of mine.
And another ABC story about sex research. (Hmmn, maybe Mr. Levitt and Mr. Dubner should talk to these folks before they publish another book, just in case they want to reference some more titillating examples.)
Interesting combination of art and confessional: "PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail-in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard."
This reads a bit like Mil Millington's humor, only poly: Why having two girlfriends is a really BAD idea...
A mathematical error: Apparently 666 is NOT the number of the beast. Everyone with those "665: Neighbor of the Beast" t-shirts? Sorry, you will now have to move.
Everyone please wish Max a Happy Birthday - it's tomorrow, the 14th. Yes, there will be a celebration. But no, he won't be getting spanked.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
My Precious Time
I talked to six people on the phone yesterday. Five of them were very smart, perfectly appropriate guys that I look forward to meeting. The sixth, however…
Ring Ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi.
There's a pause while I wait for him to say something like, "hey, it's me, Jim!" or "um, yeah, I saw your ad – what are your rates?" But he doesn't say anything. Guys do this sometimes. I think they think they're being all cool but it's really just silly and annoying. You called me, dude, so tell me who you are and what you want.
After a ten second pause I say:
Me: Can I help you?
Caller: Is this your picture?
Hey, Einstein, you may have noticed that we're actually not having a video-conference. That means I have no earthly idea what picture you're looking at.
Me: I don't know what picture you're looking at.
Caller: It's in your ad.
Me: Then, yes, that's my picture.
Long pause.
Me: Can I help you with something?
Caller: Yeah. Are you special?
Me: Am I special? Why are you asking me that?
Caller: I want to see someone special.
Well, I can recommend some athletic events you could attend. You know, it's one thing to call me up and ask me if I'm, say, very tall (no, sorta medium), or very busty (no, sorta medium there, too) or anything else that's a relatively fixed and easily demonstrable trait. But it's completely absurd to call me up and demand, apropos of nothing at all, to know whether I'm special or not.
It also makes me think he doesn't know who he's talking to.
Me: I'm a dominatrix, is that what you're looking for?
Caller: Yeah.
Me: Okay, what are you looking for in a session?
Caller: Are you happy? I want to see someone happy.
Me: I'm usually happy, but I'm not happy with this conversation. You're asking me weird questions and I don't like it. I'm going to hang up now.
Caller: No, don't hang up.
Me: Goodbye.
Click.
Two minutes later.
Ring Ring!
It's the same number, so I know it's the same guy. See, this is what happens when you hang up on them. They just call right back.
Me: Look, don't call me, I don't want to talk to you.
Caller: But –
Me: I'm programming you into my phone. Do not call me again.
Click.
I was so not in the mood for time-wasters yesterday.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
It's Tuesday so it must be Photo Day...
The Black Tower
Infrared Apple
Cutting (Quite graphic.)
Self-portrait: RackFlip
Jake with Singletail
Max Doing a Suspension
Girls in the Windows
Note: Blogger has some scheduled downtime today from 4pm-5pm Pacific Time....
The Black Tower
Infrared Apple
Cutting (Quite graphic.)
Self-portrait: RackFlip
Jake with Singletail
Max Doing a Suspension
Girls in the Windows
Note: Blogger has some scheduled downtime today from 4pm-5pm Pacific Time....
Monday, May 09, 2005
I keep an ongoing list of topics I should write about, and for some time now I've had a "ethics of BDSM" entry there. But it's a big subject, and I've been slow to engage it. That's why I'm very pleased to see that kink activist David Stein has done something great with it. (Note: if you'd like to read some interesting essays and articles about the art of consensual slavery, Google "slave david stein". He's written some good stuff .)
Now, without further ado...
SOME PRINCIPLES OF ETHICAL BDSM
Copyright is hereby waived to the following, which may be reprinted or reposted without charge or permission, but please give credit where due! Anyone may adapt and build on this starting point -- including the author. Thanks to the many participants in the workshop at Leather Leadership Conference IX in Phoenix, AZ, where these principles made their debut and received some much-needed qualifications, corrections, and additions.
slave david stein, gorgik@aol.com, ward of Master Steve Sampson 4/20/05
AIM AT EXCELLENCE IN ALL THAT YOU DO. Otherwise, why bother? There are much easier ways to get off. Everyone who comes under your hand, or whom you submit to or serve, should be better off for the experience. Does this mean humiliation or degradation have no place in ethical BDSM? As training tools, they do; as ends in themselves, no.
BE HONEST. Don't tell lies. Don't be complicit in lies by others. Withhold no necessary information. Never promise what you can't deliver. Acknowledged roles and fantasies aside, don't pretend to be what or who you're not. As far as possible, know your own limits and make them clear to your partner -- but also realize, if you're a bottom, sub, or slave, that these may be farther out than you imagine they are.
DO NO HARM. Giving or accepting pain is okay. Marks may be okay, even permanent ones. Temporary disabilities may be okay if complete healing is to be expected. Even helping someone die who's irreparably damaged and ready to go might be okay. But inflicting permanent harm that diminishes the quality of life or the ability to function in society and to earn a living is not okay. If you break your toys, you can't play with them anymore. And if you're a bottom, submissive, or slave, demoralizing your tops or Masters will mean that no one will want to play with, control, or own you anymore.
NEITHER INFLICT NOR ACCEPT PAIN UNINTENTIONALLY. Causing indiscriminate, unintentional pain is the mark of a bully or a dolt, while accepting pain as simply one's lot in life is a victim mentality. Sadism and Mastery are about control, and the ethical dimension requires control of the sadist or Master's own impulsive behavior. But the same goes for bottoms, submissives, and slaves, who can inflict enormous pain on their partners without meaning to, simply by acting without thinking first. And they should also take care not to accept pain they don't want, especially without a context that makes it meaningful (such as serving a beloved Dominant or Master). Pain in BDSM ought to be a deliberate transaction, not an accident or a byproduct.
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR ASSESSING AND MANAGING YOUR OWN RISKS. Whether you get off on risk or not, risk-management is not the exclusive responsibility of the top or Master. Everyone involved needs to become informed about the risks involved in whatever kind of scene is in the offing and decide whether they're worth running, as well as how to reduce or eliminate unnecessary risks. Being careless or stupid isn't "hot" -- it's just careless or stupid.
DON'T USE BDSM FOR THERAPY COVERTLY. Don't trap an s/m partner, let alone a D/s partner, into filling a therapist's role for you. A BDSM session can bring up deep issues and have a therapeutic effect, but unless you discuss this intention or possibility with your partner ahead of time, try to keep your personal shit out of the dungeon. The same goes double for a D/s relationship. While we should all seek whatever healing we need, whether through BDSM or otherwise, no one wants to feel, afterward, that you were just using her or him to work out your issues. If you have specific psychic or emotional trigger points, make sure your partner knows about them beforehand -- and can be trusted to avoid triggering them.
EVERYONE SHOULD FEEL GOOD ABOUT IT WHEN IT'S OVER. And this "no regrets" reaction shouldn't be limited to just five minutes later, but persist through the next day, the next week, the next month, and longer -- the more intense the session, the more time someone may need to process the feelings it brought up. With few exceptions, unless you leave your partner(s) wanting to do it again, the session wasn't right. Ideally, the same should be true of a relationship when it's over (this is much harder, but even more important).
KINKY PEOPLE ARE STILL PEOPLE. Even when we're puppies or ponies, Masters or Goddesses, slaves or toys, no one is invulnerable, unfeeling, or unworthy of the presumption of respect.
RIGHT IS BETTER THAN "RIGHT NOW." Patience is essential. Learn to wait for the right moment, the right partner, the right time to present itself. Don't be afraid to say, "Thank you, no," or "Not now." Learn to listen to your gut the right way -- not the part that screams, "Feed me!" but the part that whispers, "No, there's something wrong here" or "Yes, this is it. Go for it!"
TREAT OTHERS BETTER THAN YOURSELF. Don't shortchange them the way you often do yourself. Treat others the way you'd treat yourself if you had time for it . . . if you weren't feeling so guilty . . . if you didn't have all these deadline pressures . . . if you didn't have higher priorities . . . if you weren't a closet masochist . . .
FINISH WHAT YOU START. Don't take control of a bottom's mind unless you know how to return it again when you're finished. Don't break a bottom or a slave you're not prepared to put back together again. Don't enter training without intending to complete it, come what may (barring only the most extreme circumstances). Don't walk out of a scene partway through; if there's provocation that can't be ignored, walk away and calm down, then come back and finish it. If you enter a contractual D/s or M/s relationship, fulfill your end of the bargain no matter what; even though you can walk away without legal consequences, you forfeit your honor. Caveat: Don't enter such a contract unless there are provisions for honorable release if either party comes to find the terms intolerable. "Honorable" means due responsibility is accepted, but there's no shame, no blame, and no drama. Both parties walk away with a clean reputation and no animus toward the other.
DON'T MESS WITH SOMEONE'S LIVELIHOOD OR FAMILY. Unless someone explicitly invites you into the parts of her or his life that concern family or making a living, it's best to assume these are off limits. Therefore, nothing should occur during a session that might threaten those areas unless consent is secured in advance, before any action starts. For instance: shaving the head or eyebrows, piercings, tattooing, preventing someone from reporting in to work or calling family members . . . . The same goes for a bottom, sub, or slave encroaching on a partner's private space, like calling a number you were told not to use or interacting with his/her work colleagues or family members even though you haven't been introduced.
DON'T TAKE YOUR PARTNER(S) FOR GRANTED. Depend on them, count on them, lean on them as needed and appropriate, but never, ever lose the awareness that their presence in your life is a gift and a grace, not an entitlement, not even a quid pro quo. This is so whether you are a top or a bottom, a Master or a slave, a Dominant or a submissive, or even a switch. Having one or more partners you can count on, whether for a scene or a lifetime, is an incalculable gift. Don't devalue it by taking it for granted.
RESPECT DIVERSITY. Not everyone is turned on, or off, by the same things, or to the same degree, and that's okay. Not everyone does things the same way either, and that's okay, too. There's more than one way to swing a cat, to process pain, to wrap a mummy, to train a slave, to serve a Mistress, to scare an adrenaline junkie out of his skin, or to bring the biggest smile ever to a hard-working top's face. Be very grateful if you can master one of these ways, and don't use your achievement to put down someone who's taken a different route to the same goal.
Friday, May 06, 2005
TGIF, kids. Yes, it's Friday, and that means the new column and the Kink Calendar are up. Enjoy.
Time-Wasting Link of the Day: Now, I'm not a celebrity-watcher. In fact, I'm not at all pop-culture savvy when it comes to TV and movie stars. Not only have I never seen an espisode of "Desperate Housewives" or "American Idol", I honestly can't even remember the last time Max and I turned on our TV. It may have been to watch the presidential debates last November. I do see TV shows when I'm at the gym, so there's that. But I frequently have no idea what they are, unless they feature someone immediately recognizable, like Oprah or that idiot remora of hers, 'Doctor' Phil.
I only go to movies occasionally, because I'm just too bloody busy. (Although Sin City was great, so I'm glad Roman made me go see it with him.)
I admit to reading People magazine in the grocery store checkout line, but I never actually buy it. So 90% of my information about movies stars and such comes from reading stuff online. And I don't spend a lot time doing that.
However, I am a female creature, and as such, I do sometimes have...a catty streak. That's why this site delights me so. After all, I am a high-ranking officer in the local fashion police. And it's human nature: slagging celebrities off about their fashion mistakes lets us indulge our vicious side without guilt, because hey, when you're famous, having strangers tear you to shreds in absentia is part of the job description.
(Yes, I know what you're thinking: But Matisse, don't you already get to be vicious? Shut up. Yes, I often do, but this is a different brand of nastiness. And it's fun.)
Time-Wasting Link of the Day: Now, I'm not a celebrity-watcher. In fact, I'm not at all pop-culture savvy when it comes to TV and movie stars. Not only have I never seen an espisode of "Desperate Housewives" or "American Idol", I honestly can't even remember the last time Max and I turned on our TV. It may have been to watch the presidential debates last November. I do see TV shows when I'm at the gym, so there's that. But I frequently have no idea what they are, unless they feature someone immediately recognizable, like Oprah or that idiot remora of hers, 'Doctor' Phil.
I only go to movies occasionally, because I'm just too bloody busy. (Although Sin City was great, so I'm glad Roman made me go see it with him.)
I admit to reading People magazine in the grocery store checkout line, but I never actually buy it. So 90% of my information about movies stars and such comes from reading stuff online. And I don't spend a lot time doing that.
However, I am a female creature, and as such, I do sometimes have...a catty streak. That's why this site delights me so. After all, I am a high-ranking officer in the local fashion police. And it's human nature: slagging celebrities off about their fashion mistakes lets us indulge our vicious side without guilt, because hey, when you're famous, having strangers tear you to shreds in absentia is part of the job description.
(Yes, I know what you're thinking: But Matisse, don't you already get to be vicious? Shut up. Yes, I often do, but this is a different brand of nastiness. And it's fun.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)