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I have a new column up, about something I noticed on my visit to a swing club a few weeks ago...

***

A sad emotional event for me: I had to let my kitty go yesterday. She was my much-loved companion for twenty years. I really wanted to keep her with me longer. But I soon saw that no matter what I tried to arrange for her comfort, it would selfish of me to do that. So she had a quick, painless and peaceful passage - in my arms, at home, where she felt safe and loved. I'll miss her terribly.

I'd like to thank all the people who offered me support and suggestions for her health while she was alive, and the many people who have sent me messages of condolence about her passing.

I’ve been thinking, the last few days, about how Twitter and how much I have come to use it.

Twitter seems to be a rather polarizing thing – people either love it or they hate it. (And some people start out saying they hate it, but then wind up getting their own account and happily tweeting away on it. Not that I know anyone like this, of course.)

Twitter-haters say “It’s so mundane, it’s a barrage of banal trivia. I don’t care if someone’s making toast, or is bored at work.” I recall that people said much the same thing about personal web sites, and then about journals and blogs when they became popular. “Why would anyone want to read about some stranger’s private life?”

Well, apparently they do. So I would say that yes, Twitter entries certainly can be banal and devoid of interest. But that’s true of any form of communication. Have these people never had a face to face conversation that was mundane and boring? I envy them.

I feel that as a writer, the challenge is to create 140-character snapshots of one’s world – either the outer world, or one’s inner one - that are interesting to read. It’s a good exercise in learning capture a reader’s attention concisely.

(It’s also a useful tool for quickly mobilizing large groups of people – witness the Amazon episode – but that’s a different conversation.)

Because you can talk to me on Twitter, it also takes the place of the comments feature on my blog. (Which was abolished mainly because it was hijacked by porn spammer and a few vitriol-spouters.) It’s always been possible to email me, but some people like to publish comments to me, too.

And I think the fact that Twitter is often assumed to be dedicated to mundane trivia is useful for me. Mundane trivia adds dimension to who I am. My friends and I joke about how people think, because I’m a dominatrix, I fall out of bed every morning in a corset and thigh-high boots. I think if I had time, it would be terribly amusing to start a Twitter in the voice of that mythical stereotypical Mistress. Like this:

Mistress WhiplashYourAss: Got out of bed and stood on slave while I brushed my teeth. Then administered beating to him for not squeezing toothpaste from bottom.
9:25 AM Apr 12th from web

Mistress WhiplashYourAss: Drinking first cup of coffee at kitchen table while slave licks my six-inch stiletto-heeled pumps. Kick him for whimpering about beating.
9:55 AM Apr 12th from web

Mistress WhiplashYourAss: Going to the post office. One of 4 super-buff slaves who carry me everywhere in a curtained litter has ingrown toenail. Administered beating.
11:07 AM Apr 12th from web

That’s actually not what my life looks like, and I’d rather not have to unravel those assumptions when I meet people.

I’m not sure my Twitter would be interesting or make much sense if you didn’t know who I was, and you didn’t read anything else by me. But I think it works well as an addition to all the other words I publish.

And as a reader, I myself am enjoying following the daily lives of other interesting folks. So Tweet on, people.

I had planned to actually write something for today, but I wound up taking my elderly and irascible cat into the emergency vet last night, and I didn't get home until about 3am. It's my hope she'll be okay soon. Watch the Twitter feed if you want up-to-the-minute updates on that.

And for now, enjoy the newest installment of the web-series about polyamory, Family.



EDIT: Apparently YouTube doesn't like poly, or something. The video got pulled, I have no idea why.

2nd Edit, later: And now it's back up on Youtube. Weird. But, okay, whatever.

Perhaps in revenge for last week's video of him with nipple clamps on his eyebrows, Monk took a video clip of me in the shower. (I wanted to take one of me doing something terrible back to him in retribution, but we agreed that 12seconds people probably wouldn't like any videos that involved his dick.)

I think this video clip thing could become a Thursday night habit.

A few notes about my schedule as I know it today…

Tomorrow: I have nothing at all going on Thursday afternoon, and that just seems like a shame. Someone I like should email me and fix that.

Week of April 20th-24th: I have time available on Tuesday the 21st, and a little on Wednesday the 22nd, in the later part of the day. Otherwise next week is pretty much booked, unless someone has to cancel.

Week of April 27th –May 1st: I’m in town Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of that week and I have some time free. Thursday the 30th I’ll be getting ready to leave town, and I have a very important event to attend that evening, so Thursday is pretty iffy for me.

I’m out of town – at the much-mentioned brother’s wedding – from Friday May 1st until Monday May 4th. I can see people starting Tuesday the 5th.

I’m also going to be out of town from Monday May 25th until Thurs May 28th.

A few thoughts about scheduling... The ways in which I spend time with people is always evolving. Some of my dearest friends are busy people who steal time for short but sweet interludes with me from an already jam-packed life. Other people are asking me to spend entire days with them. I’m also traveling to other cities with a few close friends, which I used to not do so much.

All of that makes scheduling with me sometimes a challenge. I know that. But I do value all my relationships. Each one of you participated in making me who I am today, and that means something to me. You guys who’ve been seeing me ever since I was in my very first dungeon – remember that awful little ramshackle building near REI, with unreliable heat, and no shower, and the homeless people sleeping on the steps? Even if I only see you for an hour every four or five months, the fact that you’ve stayed in touch all these years pleases me. You knew me when, as they say.

So yes, my schedule is a bit more complex now than it was then, but that does not mean I don't want to hear from you. I hate to disappoint people, so I appreciate your patience and polite persistence. But if you're a friend, it’s always all right to ask if I’m free, even on short notice. Because sometimes the stars line up and I say, “Tomorrow? Sure, come on over, let’s play.”

A new podcast! Monk and I answer letters about rope tops getting overwhelmed by girls who want to ride the bondage-go-round, and then talk about a letter from a woman who says she wants to hire a male escort. About fifteen minutes.

Note: We're going to go record some more podcasts tonight. We have some good letters in the chute already - lord, we have some doozies - but if you have a long, complex question and you'd like to hear our take on it (along with a few random dirty jokes), send it along to one of us!

Complete and unedited text of a recent letter….

dear misress

me and my girlfriend are trying to learn about the mistress/master/slave activity but we need some basic tips for me as a slave to become a good slave and tips for her as a mistress so she can become a mistress. please mistress we like to take some of ur time to give us some tips. if you like to help that will be great if not its ok we will respect you no matter what all we need is a few tips thx for ur time mistress.

Good lord, I didn’t think anyone could use the words “tips” this many times in such a short email. Maybe this person is a barista in a low-end coffeehouse. Or a peep-show dancer.

Regular readers will know this hits all of my "intellectual laziness" buttons. (In fact, I'm adding a new tag just for that.) And I could work up to being slightly offended that this writer thinks a few bits of bumper-sticker wisdom will be all he/she and his partner need to have a dominant/submissive relationship. Because, yeah, it’s just that easy, right? Nothing challenging about my sexuality at all, no sirree. A trained monkey could do it.

But let’s look at it positively. Let’s say that this person thinks I am just so incredibly wise that I can, actually, condense all the complexity of BDSM dynamics into a few pithy soundbites. He’d be wrong, of course. If I could do that, why would I continue to blog and write a column and generally talk talk talk about this whole BDSM thing?

So, you want tips? Here’s some tips for you. Buy low, sell high. Don’t take any wooden nickels. Look both ways before you cross the street. Wash your hands after you go to the bathroom. Never play cards with any man named "Doc." Check your flight status before you leave the house. Don’t click on the links in emails from strangers. Don’t stick your dick in crazy.

And last but not least, JFGI.

***

EDIT, next day: All right, I never do this. I never take pity on someone whom I have justifiably spanked here. If you send me badly-spelled, sloppily-written letters, you deserve to get schooled.
However. Just this once, because I am feeling nicer today, here. And read this book by Patrick Califia. And use your damn spellchecker.

So I was lying in bed with Monk last night, with toys and rope and bottles of lube strewn around the whole room, like a kink bomb had gone off. Which indeed, it more or less had....

I said, "Oh God, I can't go to sleep, I have to get up and write a blog post. "

Monk replied, "How about if you just take video of me doing this?" And then he proceeded to do something really silly with nipple clamps. I laughed, grabbed my Blackberry, and took a 12 second video of it. (Worksafe, actually. It has sound - of me, laughing.)

Then I went to sleep.

The new Stranger column is up. Backstory: I saw the witty and irreverent Ms. Mollena Williams at Kinkfest two weeks ago, and recalled that we'd met once before, quite briefly, years earlier. She was such a fun and entertaining presenter that I went up and re-introduced myself to her after her class, and asked her for an interview on a rather edgy topic. Wow, she delivered!

(There's some talk of her coming to Seattle to present some kink workshops, so I'll keep you posted on that, too.)

A new blog link! My rock-star fabulous pal Lamalani is this year's International Ms Leather. I have known Lama ever since she was just a sweet young butch working at Babeland, and look at her now! I'm very pleased that someone from our community here in Seattle won this contest. Lamalani is a great person, and she'll do a fine job acting as a kinky ambassador to BDSM communities in other cities.

***

While I am in this link-y mood... A quick link-back to some of the Greatest Hits, for easier reading.

The More Recent Ones:

Nazi Play
S/he's A Lady
The Bank Job
Bad Approach
The Bra-Fitter
D/s And Relationships
Must One Bottom Before Topping?
My Wedding Photos
Getting Your Partner Into Kink
Getting Started In Life As A Kinkster
And, my favorite: What Not To Say - The "Puffy" Man.


And, from the dusty vaults: Older Greatest Hits (Hint: Lots of Silly Phone Calls in this list.)

A new podcast, in which Monk and I talk about "name-dropping" versus giving references, and then we say things that will make furries everywhere hate us. (Adult babies, too.) It's a testament to power of good marketing. Or not.

About fifteen minutes, not work safe.

So my blogging has been a bit off this week, as you may have noticed. You see, I've been being topped by Mistress Lateral Epicondylitis. It's the first time I've ever bottomed to her, and whoo, she's a bitch!

In less formal terms: I have had a bad case of tennis elbow. Like, ow. Serious ow. It started in December and it's been bugging me ever since. What brought it on? Who knows. I had a massage therapist work on it at Kinkfest some, and he earnestly informed me it was too much flogging and caning. That's a pretty thought, but I'm inclined to think a lot of time on the keyboard could have something to do with it.

So I've done massage/ice/brace/ibuprofen and still: ow, all the time. So yesterday I said, "I have had enough of this. Okay, Doc, shoot me up." And got a cortisone shot.

It's my hope that I'll soon be able to type again without discomfort, but right now, my arm is a little extra-sore from getting it poked with several needles. (Even though he was very gentle and careful. But yes, all the people I have stuck needles into can chuckle.)

If not, I'm going to have to start doing a lot more photos and podcasts to keep ya'll entertained. And learn to use my left hand to flog people. Anyone want to stunt-model for that?

You know how you go out of town and you forget about all the not-fun stuff you left hanging in your absence? Or is it that somehow, in a not-really-rational part of your brain, you think that little kinky elves will come while you're away and do all those tedious chores? And then you come home and there they are? Yeah. I hate that.

Like what? Like Ikea, that's what. I have a list of household stuff I require, and none of it needs to be spendy, so Ikea it is. (I know, Miss K, I know - you're going to be mad that I didn't take you with me. But I have to go today, and it's going to be just as quick-and-dirty as an Ikea run can be. Pray god the rug-rats aren't out in force on a weekday afternoon.)

Also, I have to find a dress. Oh, Matisse, you say, you have dozens upon dozens of dresses. Why would you possibly need another one?

It's true that I have a ridiculous number of dresses. But this is a very particular kind of dress. It's a going-to-my-brother's-wedding dress.

I said that to my partners, and they both replied, "What, you can't wear one of those Herve dresses?" Typical men. No! Of course not! Good lord, my mother would keel over if I wore one of those skin-tight, bodda-boom, bodda-bing numbers to a family wedding. (Not that I am not seriously lusting for some of the Spring 2009 offerings.)

No, I need something a Nice Southern Girl would wear to a summer wedding in Florida, in May. You may well imagine that I actually don't have a closet full of such ensembles.

And I'm mildly annoyed to see that my darling brother and his (very nice) wife-to-be have scheduled the ceremony for 6pm. Any well-brought-up lady knows that there's a big difference between what you wear to a daytime wedding, and what you wear to an evening wedding, and 6pm awkwardly straddles that divide. Sigh.

I'm unclear on whether the ceremony is being held in a church. But the bride is Italian, so I bet it is. So there's that, too.

Thus: something not black or white, and sort of evening-y but still not too sexy. Sleeveless is fine, perhaps even preferable since it's going to be hot. But nothing strappy or way low-cut, and the skirt should be not terribly tight and at least near my knee. And yet, with all that, not impossibly dowdy.

I could really use those elves or magic fairies right about now.

A new podcast, in which Monk and I answer two reader letters. The first one is from a woman asking us about dealing with a disparity in sexual tastes in a marriage. Then we have a letter from an aspiring pro domme who asks about attitudes towards sex workers in the BDSM community.

(We also swear a lot. I think we were tired or something.)

About fifteen minutes.

No, I haven't run away and joined the circus. I've just been in full-on leather conference mode for the last three days. If you have ever been to one, you know just how all-consuming they can be.

I say "leather conference" out of habit. That's the term I was taught as a young kinkster. What I mean is a BDSM convention. It works like this: a group of people get together, organize a hotel and a conference venue, invite people to teach classes on various kinds of BDSM-related topics, and throw play-parties in the evenings. There's also a vendor space where a bunch of BDSM retailers will come set up booths and sell everything from whips and rope to books and kinky art.

There are some events with variations on that theme, but that's usually how it looks. So typically one would arrive Friday afternoon, register and mill around in the vendor/social space, and sometimes attend some type of welcoming ceremonies, where the workshop presenters will be introduced to the crowd and some "we'd like to thank..." speeches are made.

The next two days, you spend the days attending classes in whatever topics interest you, and shopping or socializing. Sometimes there are organized dinners, sometimes not. At night, you go to the play-parties.

I used to go to two or three leather cons a year, but the last few years I'm a bit less motivated to do that. They are fun, but the travel is a hassle and certainly not inexpensive. And the thing about cons that's both good and bad is that they are like an alternate universe, and one tends to get completely immersed in the social system of them while one is there - to the utter neglect of the rest of the world. Which leads to some "oh, shit" moments on Sunday night when you realize you've let a ton of stuff slide and tomorrow is Monday!

Still, for some people, it's the only time they do get to immerse themselves in a kinky environment. I'm fortunate enough to get to live that way most of my life.

Anyway, I'll post some stories about various things I saw and did over the next few days, and yes, I am going to publish your responses to last week's letter, too! Today I'm driving back to Seattle to re-join my normal kinky life, which I'm actually pleased to say is already in progress.

The new Stranger column, in which I discuss mean dirty talk. As opposed to nice dirty talk. Enjoy it while I get ready to zoom off to Portland!

Answer My Mail

Okay, so if you've been reading me a while, you know that on a regular basis, I publish some annoying email I have gotten and make a lot of snarky comments about it.

And you have probably figured out that I'm often quite annoyed by what I call intellectual laziness. It's rather a hot-spot of mine.

But apparently a lot of people don't know this about me. Otherwise, why would they send me such annoying emails? Like this one, which I received from someone whose email address includes the word mistress, from which I infer the writer is female. Here it is, unedited and in its entirety:

Hi there I read your site its great and would like to kno more. i am new to all this

I have no idea which site of mine she has read. Somehow I doubt she's read any site of mine very thoroughly, because otherwise she'd kno that I am unlikely to look favorably upon such an email.

She doesn't say what, exactly, she's new to. Reading? Googling? No, perhaps it's spelling. How about this: know is spelled with a w.

There, now you've learned something.

Although, I suppose... She's not precisely asking a question, is she? She's simply saying she'd like to know - excuse me, kno - more. Hell, I'd like to know more myself, just in a general way. Like, when is the stock market going to recover? How many calories are really in this order of take-out chicken teriyaki? What is my cat thinking when she stares at me like that?

But she didn't exactly ask me to tell her. Perhaps my hasty presumption is unjust. We all have our emotional hair-triggers. Maybe I should check my responses about this.

So you tell me, faithful readers. God knows you've heard me rant about this often enough. How about I give you a chance? Answer this email for me. Write me the reply you think this gal should get, and I'll post it. Be kind, be blisteringly cruel, be anything you want. Send it along to me and I'll post them on Friday. We'll see how you think this email should be handled.

Let's see, I have a bunch of notes about different things.

There's a new episode of Family...

Classical music fans will enjoy it.

***

Also, I know I twittered about it already, but Alien Trespass was great, and you should all go see it when it opens! Yes, I admit, a dear friend of mine is involved with it, so this is naked propaganda. But I'm quite fond of him and pleased for his success with this, and I'm doing what I can about it. Plus it really is just a delightfully fun movie.

Side note: there's an actress in the movie who so reminded me of a pal of mine, local diva Miss Indigo Blue, that when she came on-screen, I had to look sharply for a moment to be certain that it wasn't actually her! It's the character named "Lana", if you see the film - both her look and her manner are very Indigo Blue-ish.

***

In other film-y notes, I'll be attending this event Tuesday night: the Seattle launch of the arts and culture site The Rumpus, with a screening of the horror film Pig Hunt. (At least, I think I am. I like shoot-'em-up movies, but sometimes I am not so fond of gory horror movies. But I'm going to go prefunk at least, and I'm sure it'll be a cool event overall.)

***

Congratulations again to my pal Lamalani, who just won the International Ms Leather Contest!

***

And speaking of leather events, I am going to Portland for Kinkfest this weekend. So I'm out of town Friday March 27th through Monday the 30th. It should be a very kinky good time for all...

A fresh podcast! Monk and I found a new sound guy - our old one left town - which is great, because neither of us want to deal with recording and then cooking these files.

I fear he may be too good at his job, though. I was wearing a crinkly down jacket while we recorded this (those studios are always freezing), and you can clearly hear me rustling as I shift in my chair during this podcast. Whoops.

Or maybe I was simply dressed inappropriately. A fashion faux-pas, how embarrassing!

But anyway: in this one, Monk and I read and answer a letter from a woman dealing with jealousy in a polyamorous relationship. Also, Monk makes reference to "going nuclear." We don't mean actual bombs, he's using an analogy explained in this column.

Bye!