How did I know this?


You are the Devil card. The Devil is based on the
figure Pan, Lord of the Dance. The earthy
physicality of the devil breeds lust. The
devil's call to return to primal instincts
often creates conflict in a society in which
many of these instincts must be kept under
control. Challenges posed by our physical
bodies can be overcome by strength in the
mental, emotional, and spiritual realms. Pan is
also a symbol of enjoyment and rules our
material creativity. The devil knows physical
pleasure and how to manipulate the physical
world. Material creativity finds its output in
such things as dance, pottery, gardening, and
sex. The self-actualized person is able to
accept the sensuality and usefulness of the
devil's gifts while remaining in control of any
darker urges. Image from The Stone Tarot deck.
http://hometown.aol.com/newtarotdeck/


Which Tarot Card Are You?
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Something weird is happening with the comment form...I'm trying to get it sorted out.

(A few minutes later) Wow, we went from unreadable-black to VIVID aquarium blue. Um, okay, at least it's readable. I'll try twiddling the code for that later.

(And a few more minutes later) Okay, got a note from TechSupp, apparently THEY are twiddling the code so it'll be a HTML rodeo with that comment form for a little while.

A Shameless Marketing Moment...


This is one of my self-portrait nudes. Hey, did you know - you can buy prints of this! (Nudge, nudge.) I'd probably like you and think you were a cool person if you did.
Not that I'm trying to influence your artistic sensibilities or anything. Really.

Click here to see it in a new window

So it's occurred to me that for someone who has as many alt-sex identities as I do, this isn't a particularly sexy journal so far. I think there are several reasons for that...

1. I am not going to tell juicy stories here about my clients and their fantasies. One of things you get when you buy my professional time is my discretion. (I may occasionally rant about people that want to be clients of mine but who aren't going to be, due to some flaming act of stupidity or rudeness on their part in the negotiation phase of our relationship. But even then I'm not going to name names, you understand.)

Plus, I command a certain rate to talk dirty, and ya'll aren't paying it.

2. I think one of the reasons why people talk about sex in their journals is that they feel conflict about it, and I don't feel particularly conflicted about my sex life these days. I think the only conflict I have is that I don't have enough freakin time to pursue anything with most any of the pretty-and-available people in my life.
Cause if I did, I wouldn't have time for anything else, and I'm in a real career-oriented phase of my life right now. So what I have time for one primary partner  + one person who's very, very laid-back about when they see me. That person, currently, would be Mike, who is being the single most perfect secondary partner I have ever had in my life ever. Did I mention ever? Mike rocks. We always have fun, he's totally cool with me vanishing and re-appearing at random intervals, and he's building me something so very very cool, so fabulous that I can hardly believe it's going to be mine. Ooooo....
But anyway, if you're looking for lots of nasty stories, sorry, can't help ya. But I'll try to keep it interesting anyway.

The review I wrote of Mel Gibson's "The Passion Of Christ" is out in this week's Stranger. Read it here in a new window. And they didn't edit it very much, yay again. I regard that as a personal validation. (I'm so easy, aren't I?)

Sold a print of one of my photos today, yay! Click here and it'll open in a new window. (Note: it's a nude, so be careful if you're at work...)

Okay, after some vocal exercises and a few extra cans of diet Mountain Dew, I got my voice under control. Spent the rest of the day doing the final polish on my Stranger column, working on some other writing, and then going to the gym. I have recently added cardio back to my routine after taking some time off from it, and man, my thighs are aching already...

After the gym I met my brother, who'd taped an episode of a reality TV show for me. I don't have cable, so our reception, even for regular broadcast, sucks. And that's fine with me, because, frankly, I think TV sucks too. We never turn it on. The only way I know what TV shows are currently hot is by reading about them in magazines and such.

So why would I want a tape of reality TV show? Because I'm currently in communication with some producers about being on one. God help me.

They contacted me, you see. They'd found me somehow; I don't know, the column, the website, something. "We want a dominatrix," they said. And they mentioned money. So I talked to them.

Based on what I've seen/read, and having watched the tape of one episode, this particular show seems like one I could appear on without sacrificing my basic human dignity and without seeming to represent my particular culture as being a bunch of psychotic idiots. I'm not going to tell you which one it is at this point, except that it is NOT American Idol. But no way would I ever eat insects, or be dangled off cliffs, or be drowned in noxious waste, or any of the other bizarre and gross things that I read about people doing on some reality TV shows.

So, they'll get back to me. Or else they won't. I mean, when I'm on the phone with them they act like they loooooooove me. But I sorta figure that's how people talk in Hollywood, right? So I'm not exactly putting major stock in it.

Actually the weirdest part of this is that if I did it, I'd be gone for around five weeks. Kinda strange to think about closing up shop and kissing my sweetie good-bye for that long, although I would think they'd let him come and visit...? It's just such a completely foreign concept, all of it.

And a very long shot, I imagine. So I'm not getting invested in the idea. But I think it's one of those reminders from the universe: don't get too-too comfortable in your little groove. You have to step out of it sometimes to stay fresh and keep a balanced perspective.

Uh-oh. I may not be quite as ready-for-the-world as I thought. I just picked up the phone and tried to talk to someone, and my voice sounds like I have a washcloth stuffed down my throat. Not sexy.

Much better today - no fever since Sunday night and my throat is way less sore than it was. You can still see the swollen gland in my neck, but I think I've kicked this thing, hah!
More later...(Of course)

Can you tell I'm avoiding writing my column? Yeah, nothing like looking at a blank page in Word to make you think, "Hey, I should go post in my journal!" Yeah, like that's gonna get me 400 well-chosen words by Wednesday am. Sure it is.

But - since I'm here...Can we just pause and talk about what a completely fabulous sofa this is...?

This must go in my "things that might legitimately be a tax deductible purchase" file...It's from FunkySofa.com
And Jaelle, nasty little temptress that she is, sent me this link to more kewl furniture...
Internet window shopping...The ultimate time-waster. Sigh.

Oh, this totally and completely sucks.
Spalding Gray is dead.

That is so sad.

I'm feeling a bit better - throat less sore and no fever for several hours now, which is great. Die, little cold germs, die!

Gah. I'm sick. I hate being sick. Sore throat and fever, bleah, bleah, bleah. At least I don't have any clients booked today so I can just lay around and feel icky. My fever is down from yesterday, though, which is good.

It's weird, I can go years without getting a cold or a little bug like this, but I've had two in the last six months. What's up with that, I wonder. Neither of them lasted more than a few days, but still, I have always been thankful for my cast-iron immune system, and it's letting me down lately.