Friday, February 23, 2007

I've been reading Rob Brezny's poetic astrological predictions for years now. I love the way he writes. If my friend Otis was an astrologer, this is the kind of thing he'd write.
Scorpio Horoscope for the week of February 22, 2007
In the coming weeks, you'll attract cosmic assistance whenever you add to your repertoire, branch out artistically or socially, or start gathering seed money for a project that may take years to ripen. Mythically speaking, the coming weeks will also be a good time to have intimate relations with a fertility god or goddess, and to plant magic beans that will grow into a beanstalk that reaches the sky. "Is that it?" you may be asking. "Nothing but good news?!" My only caveat, which is pretty minor, is that you might add a few pounds to your frame. If you're a hetero woman, that could be caused by a pregnancy unless you're careful.
Interestingly, some cool things are indeed perking along for me on the artistic front, so hopefully Rob is correct and cosmic assistance will continue to come my way.

But the stars above are apparently unaware that I'm getting ready for a photo shoot. No pounds will be added to me! And if I turn up pregnant, either Max or Monk are going to be having a very serious conversation with their doctor, because they've both had vasectomies. No babies, not me, no way...

Thursday, February 22, 2007

The new column…. By the way, I’m not purposely picking on sex-work job-seekers lately. (It’s not like I haven’t ever been one of them myself.) Mere coincidence, I promise.

All this talk about music… I’ve been looking for an mp3 of the Darth Vader theme music, to play for – of course – Max. I figured we’d use it an intro to all the bondage workshops, that kinda thing. (I’m kidding. Sort of.) But I can’t seem to find it on iTunes, so – anybody got it? Or know where I can get it?

Also – why the heck can’t I find that David Bowie song “Never Met a Girl Like You Before” anywhere? I can’t ever figure out what album it’s on. That is Bowie, right?

Social note: I think Monk and I are going out dancing Saturday night. He’s threatening to take me to the Baltic Room for Bollywood music. I’m game, but the only thing better is if I could find an eighties night somewhere, because that would be so delightfully wrong. Sadly, those all seem to be mid-week, and we’re apparently too Puritan-work-ethicy to go out on a school night. Or something.

In other news: I got two new sets of really, really nasty nipple torture devices last week. I hesitate to even call them clamps, because that really doesn’t do them justice. They are sheer evil. Yesterday I got to use them on Jae, and it was biiiiiiig fun. She quite liked them, but then she’s a sick and twisted girl. No wonder I’m so fond of her.

I put them on her nipples, and that was fine, and then I put them on her labia, and that was great. I slapped them, I hung weights off them. And then I touched the Magic Wand I just happened to be holding in my hand – switched on – to them, and that was quite simply the most delightful thing in the world. I had to dodge back quickly, though, because Jae has an ability to writhe wildly even when you think you’ve got her secured, and she about knocked me down!

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Ring Ring!

Me: Hello?

Caller: (female voice) Yeah, I’m calling about your ad.

Uh-oh, looks like I’m going to have to tell another woman that I’m not taking female clients these days. Unless she’s part of a couple, and even couples are sometimes more challenge than reward. Not always, but sometimes. When couples are good, they are very, very good, and when they are bad, whoo, they are horrid.

Me: Okay, is this for you and your boyfriend or husband?

Caller: Boyfriend or husband? No. It’s just me.

She sounds taken aback that I would ask such a thing, and I’m noticing that she sounds very young. She’s also affecting a sort of urban/hip-hop inflection that I imagine she learned from MTV and Quentin Tarantino movies. Perhaps we should just ask the vital question…

Me: What ad of mine did you see?

Caller: The one where it says you hiring.

That’s not a typo – she said “…you hiring”. I thought I had left the South.

Me: Uh, no, I don’t have any ad that says that.

Caller: This ain’t your ad in the adult section that says “selectively hiring”?

Me: I have an ad in the adult sections of some papers, yes, but it doesn’t say I’m hiring. It says I’m selectively taking new clients.

There’s a brief pause while she, presumably, re-reads the ad and ponders the difference between clients and employees, and I meditate on the sad state of the American public school system.

Caller: …Oh.

She hangs up. Good lord.

I think I should get rid of that ad text anyway, since it’s been made clear to me that people are not interpreting it the way I want them to. Which would be, “I’m not saying I won’t see new guys at all. But - I don’t choose to see very many.”

Frankly, my worst nightmare is running a sex work business where I have to run “help wanted” ads and hire off the street. Pray for me that day never comes.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I got an email lately, from a woman who told me I wasn’t allowed to publish her note. She told me all about her relationship with a man who repeatedly hurt her emotionally and displayed disrespect for their relationship, and she wanted my advice.

I gave her the short answer: he’s broken, you can’t fix him, dump him. As I typed that reply to her, I winced, because my left hand was sore. I’ve got a whip-weal across the backs of my fingers, half a dozen thin red lines of slightly raised flesh. It’ll be fine tomorrow, but right now, it’s still tender.

How’d that happen? Well, I had my hand on someone’s ass while I was beating it, quite viciously, with a thin little rubber whip. And I missed my target and hit my own hand. My aim with a whip is almost always very accurate – good eyesight and a lot of practice will get you that. But occasionally, even I get off-center.

(Why did I have my hand there at all? To keep an ass-toy from popping out.)

It was pretty painful, but I bit my lip and didn’t yelp, and just kept the scene going. That’s what you do.

But it reminded me of a fundamental truth: some rules are the same for everyone. Whips hurt, whether you’re the top or the bottom. Emotional wounds hurt, too, no matter who you are. You can be a Gorean master, or a smart-ass masochist, or an old-school Mistress. But all those roles, and those aspects of who we are, mean nothing when it comes to basic ethics and integrity. The rules are the same there. Being kinky never exempts you from that. I personally think that sexual outlaws should make doubly sure that our honor and integrity is in place, because the world would have us think that we forfeit that when we pick up – or bend over for – the whip.

So if you write to me, you can tell me all about what you and your partner do in the playroom, and what you call yourselves and your relationship, but many times, that’s all just smoke obscuring the main issue. Step back from all that and ask yourself – what’s really happening here? Is it okay with me? If not, then ask for it to stop. If it doesn’t, pack up your toys and leave.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Amusing event of the upcoming week: The Stranger wants me to come be on the "Justify Your Pod" podcast. This is a little show where Stranger writer Dave Schmader listens to the music on your iPod, and then makes fun of you for your uncool musical tastes while you attempt to, well, justify them. Dave has always seemed like a cool guy (meaning: when he edits my columns, he doesn’t butcher them), and it's a good concept, and it'll be fun. I have such cheesy taste in music anyway, he'll have fodder for days.

And frankly, I’m sort of looking forward to an interview where I actually do not only talk about BDSM, sex work, and polyamory. Not that I don’t like talking about those things, because hey, they are cool. But it’ll be fun to talk about random silly things for a change, like what’s on my iPod.

I predict he’ll give me shit about my taste for stupid-teenage-movie-soundtrack songs, and my extensive collection of Pet Shop Boys tracks. Oh, and those Eddie Money songs. Definitely going to give me a hard time about that. What else is embarrassing? Oh, here’s some other bad ones: Digital Underground, The Humpty Dance, Ricky Martin, She Bangs. Judas Priest, You’ve Got Another Think Coming, Tony! Toni! Tone! Born Not To Know, ABBA, Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight). As you can see, my bad musical taste spans all different genres.

However, there’s one problem: for Dave to listen to my tunes, I have to give him my iPod. Like, for several days! Eeek! I am getting really twitchy just contemplating life without my Nano. Clearly I must go and buy another one. Max and I want one to live at our house, anyway, for our dungeon. (Talk about justify - listen to me justifying the purchase.) I think a visit to Best Buy or some such place is in my future.

So that’ll be recorded Friday, although I don’t know when it’ll go live. Hopefully this will be the spur I need to get my own podcast stuff up and going. As a Christmas gift, Monk sweetly offered to get me with all the gear I need. We just have to go buy it and set it up. He and I are spending this weekend together – a rare treat for us – so perhaps we’ll have a chance then.