Open To Suggestions

I was talking to Monk last night about the whole 12 second video thing. He and I have both been saying for a while that we'd like to incorporate more video clips into our content. But somehow, we're just not feeling clear about what that would look like.

I'm never going to go all-video, all-the-time. I'm a writer. But the 12 second format attracted me because I thought, "Okay, 12 seconds - I could just do that from the phone cam and accept that it would be low-rez and unpolished."

Thus, I walk around in the world thinking "Well, I could video this. But no, this is boring. I have to wait for something interesting to happen." And then something interesting happens, and I'm busy doing it, and I don't video it. Sigh.

And it can't be anything pornographic, anyway. I would definitely not video any of my sessions - even the parts without anyone naked - unless someone begged and pleaded for me to do so, and even then I'd be hesitant. You put something on the internet, and you lose control of it. I'd have to be really sure someone was one-thousand-percent all right with that before I did any such thing.

I thought: Maybe I need a theme, to kinda get me started with this. For example, I could go through my toy cabinet, and show you, one by one, my different toys. It would take a while, believe me.

And then it occurred to me - I could just ask you. Since you're the people who are going to be watching it, after all. So tell me, what would you like to watch 12 seconds of?

Remember, this is via phone cam, so think low resolution and bad light. And since I'll be holding the camera, it's going to hard to get to see me doing much of anything. It's more like: what do I see that you'd like to see?

(Note to the clueless: no, you don't get to watch me do anything sexual. That is so not going to happen.)

I look forward to some inspirational emails.

Here's the new Stranger column.

Now I'm off into a busy day of errands and shopping, and then some spa time at Banya 5. Bye!

The newest installment of the web series about a polyamorous triad, Family.

I was pleased to see that they got some good press in the Seattle Times. Nice when art overlaps with activism. Enjoy...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Over the years, I’ve gotten used to some wild swings in my activities and surroundings. This weekend was one for the books, though. On Friday night, Armani and I had a very luxurious and decadent day and night at a local resort, with 90-minute massages, Chateaubriand, a hot tub, lots of wine - and lots of other things.

Saturday morning we woke up to snow – quite a lot of that, too. Now, I don’t know what it is, but it seems like whenever Armani and I leave town for a getaway, some dramatic weather-related thing happens. Like the ferry ride that we took in the windstorm of ‘07 – yeah, that ferry! Just our luck, we seem to stir up Mother Nature.

But Armani is a talented man, and he got us down off the mountain and delivered me home at noon. Whereupon I discovered that the cleaning people I had engaged – the highly trained team of professionals who were going to remove the heavy layer of nasty post-construction dust that was coating every single surface and every single object in my whole house – were not coming. At all.

So I was looking at a busy week starting Monday, with lots of people coming to see me, and a very filthy house. So guess what I was doing for nine hours alone on Saturday and for another four, with Monk, Sunday? Yeah. I looked like a chimney sweep on Saturday, only grayish-white instead of black.

People did offer to help me Saturday, but I’m hard to help sometimes. Certain types of things I can easily give clear directions about, but some things – well, I know how I want it done, but the effort of conceptualizing and then clearly communicating exactly what to do and why to do it that way? Oh, I’d honestly just rather do it myself. Unwillingness to delegate - it's a failing of mine. Control issues, me? Why would you ever think such a thing?

If the team had come, I would given them the keys and walked away - and then come back later and re-done whatever they didn’t do right. But directing another person, moment-by-moment for hours, in a huge and vaguely defined task, that’s actually composed of ten thousand tiny little tasks? Oh, no. As exhausting as it was to do alone, I would have been twice as stressed trying to do it and simultaneously manage someone else.

So Monk came on Sunday, when I had a clear and specific list of things I needed him to do, and that’s just exactly perfect. This is why I don’t have “apprentices” - and what a silly term that is - or personal slaves. I do not enjoy labor management - even the labor of people I’m very fond of.

I'm off today on a little overnight retreat with Armani. We're going to a secret location to have some spa time - hot stone massage, mmmm... And then a decadent dinner together. A lovely mini-vacation.

And - I'm not taking the laptop. I know! Shocking! 24 hours without a computer, me? That never happens. I'll have the B'berry, so I won't be totally cold turkey. But still, it's a slightly edgy choice.

I'll be back Saturday afternoon, whereupon I will immediately get started unpacking the dungeon and getting things ready for Monday, when the grand unveiling of the remodeled space will begin.

Not a minute too soon, either. This has been a rather stressful time for me. My space - emphasis on the my - is important to me, and having it all in turmoil and unavailable to me has been... Well, it's worked out okay, but I've had to expend a fair amount of energy to make it work out okay, if you know what I mean. My dear close pals have been extremely helpful and accommodating about this whole process. I get by with a little help from my friends.

So if I owe you emails/phone calls, please bear with me for the next few days, as I get my normal routine and surroundings, that I am so very fond of, back online after a month of construction.

I myself often look at random people and try to imagine what they'd look like naked. Sometimes I do so while waiting in line at the bank or the dry cleaners, just to pass the time. I also do it with people I know are soon going to be naked in front of me, and then when they are, see how accurate my mental image was.

If you'd like to hone your skill at this, I have a website for you: http://www.naked-people.de/ It's all in German, so I have no idea what the text says. But click enter, and then click on the picture of the clothed person, and presto, their clothes melt away.

Maybe someone who speaks both German and English fluently will tell me what the heck this site is saying about itself. (I get a lot of letters from non-English-speaking people who have obviously used online-translators, and it's almost impossible to understand what they are saying, so I'm not even going that route.)

But these are obviously regular people - not professional models or porn performers - all ages, shapes and genders. Perhaps this is some sort of statement about showing us what non-model people look like nude? Or maybe it's just someone saying, "Hey! Check it out, I got all these people to take off all their clothes for me!"

Hat Tip to Gander!

EDIT: I have had a lot of very cool people send me translations of the site text. It says:

"Clothes are your second skin. They cover, they reveal, they are able to express what we feel inside or, on the contrary, hide it. Clothes can enable us to show what we work as, what our social standing/class is or they express our emotional state. A suit may lead us to peg someone as being a banker, an office worker or an insurance salesman, etc. In our society, this is a characteristic of "being serious".
But to what extent is this judgement correct? Can we blindly trust the shell? What is really underneath it? Can the illusion be shattered if a tattoo is revealed underneath the suit or does the person remain inscrutable? Here, you have the possibility of experiencing the different effects a clothed or naked person make on you.
If you are interested in participating in this art project as a model, please write me an email. If you want to sponsor the project by donating, you can do so by pushing the PayPal button."

Thanks to German speakers Anna, Nina, Nils, Lu, MK, Kari, Tom, Art, Lief, Aviva, and two nice people who didn't sign a name, for translating it for me!

Literary Masochism

I recently finished the Dan Simmons novel, Drood. And that is no mean feat, my friends, even for a devoted (and fast) reader like myself. It's 785 pages. I browsed it in a bookshop, weighed it in my hand, and thought, I'm not sure if I should read this or use it as a boat anchor. Thank god for my Kindle, tamer of bursitis-inducing tomes.

Here's how the New Yorker describes Drood.

"In this creepy intertextual tale of professional jealousy and possible madness, Wilkie Collins tells of his friendship and rivalry with Charles Dickens, and of the mysterious phantasm named Edwin Drood, who pursues them both. Drood, cadaverous and pale, first appears at the scene of a railway accident in which Dickens was one of the few survivors; later, Dickens and Collins descend into London's sewer in search of his lair. Meanwhile, a retired police detective warns Collins that Drood is responsible for more than three hundred murders, and that he will destroy Dickens in his quest for immortality. Collins is peevish, vain, and cruel, and the most unreliable of narrators: an opium addict, prone to nightmarish visions. The narrative is overlong, with discarded subplots and red herrings, but Simmons, a master of otherworldly suspense, cleverly explores envy's corrosive effects."

Now, I like history, so Simmons's meanderings into historical trivia about London and Dickens did not bother me overmuch. Simmons clearly indulged himself with the length of this novel, and of course, it suits the period he's writing about.

And I agree, it's a very deftly done portrait of seeming friendship being poisoned by envy. The Wilkie Collins that Simmons portrays is sympathetic - at first. The bombastic Dickens, who was indeed the literary rock star of his time, is pretty condescending to Collins, and you feel both his anger and his impotence over it.

But then, as you get to know him, Simmons shows you that his Collins is actually a nasty piece of work. And then the story shifts from being mostly about the petty slights and insults that two dear friends can inflict upon each other, and takes a turn into a very Collins-esque sort of horror.

So, yes, it could have been cut down quite a bit. But I enjoyed getting to know all the vile twists and turns of this fictional Wilkie Collins. Makes me want to re-read The Woman in White.

I had an email exchange with someone lately that reminded me, for one thing, how happy I am that I don’t have to see anyone new unless I think we’re really well-suited to each other. Because this man and I were clearly not a good match.

Essentially, he wanted to do a boxing/punching scene in which I punched him, in the face and head, until he went unconscious. (He would not fight back.) His exact phrase was “The session ends when I am knocked out, or just can't get up.”

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this as a fantasy. Chester French videos aside, this kind of masochism isn’t as sexualized as often as, say, spanking. But there are men around who like it, and I know of women who do it. Still, it’s not my specialty, and so I do not have vast experience doing boxing and punching.

Thus my response was that I was willing to discuss a scene where I hit him, but I was definitely not willing to beat him unconscious. That is not a safe thing to do. Frankly, I’m not sure that I would feel comfortable punching someone in the face, period. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, given that I do other painful things to people. From what I have seen, one generally wears boxing gloves for scenes like this. And people box and get hit in the face every day. But still, I have no training in how to hit someone in face, and even if I did it lightly, it just seems like a really easy way to damage someone. And my personal limit is that I will hurt you, in ways you consent to, but I will not consent to damage you.

There’s a big difference, to me. Pain = sensation in the moment. Or at least something that’s short-term and that will heal. A bruised butt is painful in the making and sore for a while afterwards, but it’s not damage. I define damage as: a permanent change to your body that impairs normal function and/or causes ongoing emotional distress. A big scar that you didn’t want, for example, is damage, even if it doesn’t impair your functioning.

So in the course of my response to him, I said, “Any scene with me ends when I say it does.” Meaning, I wasn’t going to keep hitting him if I judged it to be a bad idea. Even if he wanted me to.

Well, he didn’t want me to have that limit. So, he and I are not going to meet. It’s funny, when people talk about consent in BDSM, they always talk about bottoms getting pushed past their personal limits. You don’t hear as much about a bottom trying to make a top hurt him/her beyond the top’s boundaries. However, my right to safeword out of a scene is just as valid as a bottom’s. Consent has to be present on both sides. The minute that's not there, what you’re doing is no longer anything I consider healthy BDSM. So I think we’ll call this negotiation a Technical Knock-Out.

Another podcast: Monk and I speculate about Jews and kink, and then Monk explains the story of how he got into kink and became a rope-maker. Also briefly mentioned is my ability to shoot laser beams from my eyes. Enjoy!

A new column in The Stranger. Not for the easily squicked. Hardy souls, enjoy!

So, I'm flying to Las Vegas today with the ever-rockin' Elvis. I think we're going to have much fun, and I'll be Twittering and Flickering and perhaps even 12second-videoing, so stay tuned to all that.

I'll be there until Saturday, so I'll be around for next week. I will return messages as soon as I can. As always, email is best.

***

Speaking of video, I found this via The Rumpus: Jay Smooth of Ill Doctrine:



I think it's very cool. Obviously, it's about how to call someone on racist behavior. But actually, it's excellent advice for talking to anyone about any kind of unacceptable behavior. He makes excellent points about staying focused on "this is what you did" and not getting sucked into the losing strategy of "this is what you are."

I also love "No Homo."

So, I have been digitally acquainted with San Francisco writer and editor Stephen Elliot for a while. He's the editor of the online arts and culture magazine "The Rumpus", in which Monk was profiled not long ago. And soon I will get to make his acquaintance in person, because Stephen has a cool event happening here in Seattle in March. Read all about it!

Tuesday, March 24, The Rumpus, in association with Northwest Film Forum, presents PIG HUNT.

"Perhaps the finest horror film to have been made this year," according to Eye For Film. PIG HUNT is the tale of a Guy's Weekend of hunting gone wrong in the backwoods of Northern California, set amidst the chaos of marijuana, meth, rednecks, and a killer cult that worships a legendary 3,000 pound wild boar called "The Ripper."

Join us for the Seattle launch of The Rumpus, and the first Seattle screening of Pighunt.

Hosted by author and editor of The Rumpus, Stephen Elliott. Rumpus contributor Ryan Boudinot will give a reading before the film and director Jim Isaac and writer/producer Robert Mailer Anderson will answer questions following the screening. The party will continue across the street at the Vermillion art gallery.

6 p.m. Happy Hour at Vermilion, 1508 11th Ave.

7 p.m. Screening of "Pig Hunt," preceded by a short reading by Ryan Boudinot, at Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave, Seattle. Following the film, director Jim Isaac and writer producer Robert Mailer Anderson will take questions.

9:30 p.m. Post-screening party at Vermillion

Get tickets online at Brown Paper Tickets.

Episode #8 in the Seattle-produced web-series about polyamory, "Family". It's Part II of the "Meet The Parents" espisode!

A clever reader sent me this letter...

I think I can claim to have read all your blog archives, and would never presume to advise you about topics to bring up (waaaait for it!), I did want to ask you, though, if you had seen the film Holy Smoke, by Jane Campion and if you'd ever thought about podcasting/blogging about the amazing exploration of power exchange that goes on between its two main characters. Aside from the explicit message about coming into your power and learning not to abuse it, the script deftly demonstrates how fun it can be when "who's on top" is continually renegotiated, how physically overpowering someone isn't necessarily as effective as verbally cutting to the quick (Harvey Keitel to Kate Winslet: "Your physical superiority makes you unkind"), and how knowing one's own boundaries is always of utmost importance. Oh! And don't let me forget pissing as an act of submission! Just such a great film for every kind of kink - even if your kink is no kink.

Darlin', I think you did just blog about it!

And yes, I have seen the film. I thought it was well-acted, well-written, and occasionally hilarious (like the scene where the shallow flirtatious mother allows her cavorting child to do a face-plant into the dirt because she's preening for an indifferent man.) It has some hot, sexy moments, and it's generally very intense and gripping.

(Question: does Harvey Keitel demand a frontal nude scene in every role he takes? Not that I object, I'm just wondering.)

Like pretty much every movie I've ever seen that explores kink themes, I would not point to these characters and say, "Here are some great dominant/submissive role models!" No. Keitel and Winslet are playing flawed and damaged people, and a lot of the way they interact is far from emotionally healthy.

But still, it's a good movie even for the non-kinky, and I know that BDSM people will appreciate the themes woven into it. Consider it recommended!

Complete and unedited email...

Hi Mistress my name is slave X.Hi ave this fantasy from a long time to get a permanent damage in a cbt torture session from a bieutifull goddess like you .My offer is this i live in canada montreal to be more presice my offer is this i can send you a first class airplane tickets plus all your expense pay with hotel food and avery thing you need and i will pay you 10000 in canadian dollars for a 2 hours session of cbt , face kicking ,busting and body and head trample .this is a serious offer if your intresting or if its not enough money lets me no your price is my price tank you for your time slave X.sorry for my english im french and im learning

Wow, this is rather painful to read. But I give him credit where it’s due: his English is better than my French. And I have certainly heard from native English speakers who write just as badly as this.

So I am going to try, for a moment, to assume that his mistakes are in words rather than intent. The fact that he’s trying to negotiate a heavy BDSM scene in a language he doesn’t speak well is a mistake in itself, though. BDSM is a thing you want to be able to negotiate very precisely. That way, you ask NOT to get “permanent damage”.

Also – face kicking? That’s one I hadn’t heard. Unless we’re talking tiny foot-taps, that sounds like a bad idea.

Now let’s talk about that ten thousand dollars. Only we can’t, because it doesn’t exist. This is where my kind assumption that the oddities of this email are language-based break down. Either this man mistakenly tapped in one too many zeros, or – and frankly I think this is more likely – the whole thing is a crazy wanker fantasy.

What makes it crazy? To me, seriously asking for permanent damage = crazy. And also because no sane person is going to pay me five thousand dollars an hour. I’m good, but honey, ain’t nobody that good. Permanent damage? I’d have to kill you, and then raise you from the dead, to warrant that kind of tab.

There is an extremely small chance that the writer of this email, while crazy, does indeed have ten thousand dollars which he’d give me if I got in the room with him and tried to do him permanent damage. But that’s an extremely, extremely small chance indeed.

And you know what? I still wouldn’t do it. Because I don’t deal with crazy people, no matter how much money they offer me. I don't permanently damage people, either.

I get emails like this all the time. Most sex workers do. If you’re a woman who’s new to the industry, take note: If a stranger offers you a unreasonably huge sum of money for what sounds like very little in return, 99.9% of the time, you won’t get it. Chances are you’ll wind up having wasted time and energy chasing it, and sometimes even spent money of your own trying to make the date happen. (“Oh, I’m transferring funds from overseas and they got held up, can you get your own plane ticket and I’ll reimburse you….” Just like the Nigerian scams, only different.)

Note: I am not speaking of getting gifts from someone you know. I have been the fortunate recipient of some incredibly generous gifts from people I had relationships with, and I know other women who have as well. So yes, that happens. But not from a total stranger.

I suppose somewhere in the world, there have been a few Indecent Proposal-type scenarios that were real, but I have never seen one come true. Ever. (And look at all the drama Demi Moore went through with that, anyway.) The writers are either crazy people, or it’s someone deliberately playing games with a carrot on a stick.

It’s a fantasy to have a stranger appear and offer you a large sum of cash. But remember all those children’s stories about magical creatures who offer ordinary people three wishes, or a genie in a bottle? But somehow those wishes, those magic powers, they never turned out like the user wanted, did they? There was always a trick or a sting in them. The lesson of those stories was: if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. So beware the modern-day version of trolls under a bridge.

First off, thank you to all the nice people who sent me that small avalanche of "happy blog-anniversary" emails yesterday. That was very sweet.

Here's another podcast from me and Monk. Sometimes we have letters to answer, or a specific topic to address, but on this one we got off into a discussion about fashion. Thus, it's a rarity: a podcast that actually contains no sex-with-lawn-gnomes jokes, and seems to be pretty safe for work. (Although I have no idea if anyone really listens to me at work. I mean, aren't you supposed to be working? I have never had an office job in my life, so that whole world is very strange and mysterious to me.)

Anyway, listen to us chat about style icons, rubber dresses, kilts, kimonos, and schoolgirl outfits.

A milestone: as of yesterday, I have been blogging for five years.

Five years. That feels like a long time. I had no idea, when I started, that this blog would become such a defining part of Mistress Matisse. But it has. I have often wondered what would have happened if I’d started blogging anonymously. Would I have as many readers? Would I have been outed by now, or would I have been able to remain a mystery? And what would I have said, and not said, differently? I’ll never know.

I’ve been writing for The Stranger for about eight years, and between that column and this, I have a lot of words out there in the world. (Plus there’s the podcasts, and a few video clips here and there.) There are good sides and bad sides to that. If you want to get to know me, there’s a lot of information available. If you’re wondering about an issue that might fall under my umbrella of expertise, search around a bit, chances are I’ve talked about it.

Or, if you want something to be offended about, you can just cherry-pick through the archives, and I’m sure you can find something I’ve said that you think is reprehensible. I actually don’t subscribe to the idea that “if you don’t piss people off, you aren’t doing it right.” But as even-handed as I think I’m being, some people seem determined to be offended. Which I find baffling… but hey, if that’s what you get off on, enjoy yourselves. I have weird hobbies too.

I admit that some days I think, “Oh god, I have to blog. I don’t want to, I have nothing to say, I don't feel like writing... but I have to put something up.” My relationship with this blog is sometimes a bit like the one Seymour had with his blood-sucking alien plant in Little Shop of Horrors. It’s brought me a lot of great things – and great people – but it does suck up a lot of my personal juice.

But over the years, I’ve learned to worry less about it – I don’t check my hit counts every day, like I once did, or obsess about Technocrati ranks. Internet fame is an ephemeral thing. If you try to hang your hat on it, you’ll just make yourself crazy. As a blogger, I’ve learned a lot about just doing the best I can, and being gentle with myself for not always doing moremoreMORE.

Having the Twitter feed does makes me a feel a bit less derelict in my duty when I play hooky. It also allows me to have some back-and-forth with people, without having the flood of comment-spam and hate-bombers that the comment feature unfortunately devolved into. I’m interested in doing more podcasting, too, and I’m also intrigued by this application, as brought to my attention by the clever Violet Blue: 12seconds video. So you may be seeing some of that in the near future…

It’s hard to know how this blog will end. Perhaps fashions in internet communications will evolve and render blogs obsolete. Or maybe I’ll just wake up one day and realize I’m done with it. But for now, I’m still here. We’ll see what the next five years brings.

The new Stranger column is up: Fluid Sex. Enjoy!

Today I come home from Portland and see just what sort of remodeling activity has been going on in my house while I've been away. My contractor assures me all is well, but still, color me slightly nervous.

Meanwhile, enjoy the newest episode of the web-series about a polyamorous triad, Family. Warning: there's a sex scene with a full-frontal naked guy, and it's quite charming, but probably not something to watch at work.

Am I Or Not?

Cool reader Trix recently alerted me to the fact that I was quoted in this book: Yes Means Yes! Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape. Sexy blogger/author/editor Rachel Kramer Bussell wrote an essay entitled: "Beyond Yes or No: Consent as Sexual Process" in which she talks about consent as an ongoing activity.

The quote is from a Stranger column I wrote called "The A Word", which can be read in all it's ranty glory here.

This is what RKB said...

"It benefits both halves of a couple (or coupling) to know what the other is into.... As dominatrix and sex columnist Mistress Matisse wrote in The Stranger, "Some of the pleasure I take in kink is the continual seduction of consent. I love the fact that I can get my partners to let me to do things to them that they never thought they'd let anyone do--and better yet, I can make them like it. That's hot."

So I bought a copy, naturally, and yep, there I am. I'm flattered and pleased, of course. But it's sort of strange to see myself referenced in a feminist anthology. Not bad, just... strange.

People ask me, "Are you a feminist?" And I usually say something like, "Do you think I am?"

Sometimes they say, "Oh yes, definitely!"

And I smile and say "All right then, I am."

Sometimes they say "No! Women like you are antithetical to feminism."

And I shrug and say, "Then we don't have anything else to talk about, do we?"

Because I'm just not going to play that game. When I was a very young woman, I did a lot of college-based political activism. Mainly pro-choice stuff, and some GLBT issues, and then later, AIDS activism. I called myself a feminist, and I encountered other women who also called themselves feminists.

Now, no one woman - or any group of women - have sole ownership of that word. I know that. But at that time in my life, when the Feminist Sex Wars were still being fought in many circles, I met a lot of feminist-identified women who acted as if they did. And the very clear message I got from them was that I was wrong. The way I looked was wrong, the books I read, the kind of music I listened to - but most of all, the kind of sex I liked. My whole sex life was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I spent some time trying to reconcile who I felt I was with the message I was getting from those women. But I wasn't able to do that, so I walked away from the movement.

I still support the same values and causes I always did: equal pay, the right to an abortion, ect. But I decided not to devote time, money and energy to advancing the broader political philosophies of people who didn't accept me and my choices. You might say that I fight in some battles, but I decline to re-enlist in the army.

Yes, I know about the sex-positive feminist movement. I think the women who identify themselves as such are great people. But to me, if I have to qualify myself to say I belong to your club, then I don't want in. Take me as I am, or not at all.

I am not saying that I don't support feminists. I do. If you think I'm a feminist and wish to call me so, I'm fine with that. If you are a feminist, I'm happy to be quoted in support of whatever you're saying.

But if you're someone who thinks a woman like me - kinky, sex-working, high-heel-wearing me - can't possibly be part of your feminist movement... Then you're right. I'm not.

I’m Too…Something

I'm off today on a trip today, which should be delightful. I'm back Wednesday.

Meanwhile, a little something from the mailbag....

***

From an email:

Sorry. You just advertise yourself too much. I think the perfect one for you is the one you love the most. That is you. I'm not a mean person but if you are actually a woman. You are actually all that you advertise and because if so you are truly beautiful. But come on. Aren't you overdoing it just a little bit?

This letter doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, and it makes me think the writer doesn’t actually understand the nature of who I am and what I do. You don’t see too many dominatrixes openly displaying bad self-esteem. What would that look like in a scene? “Well, I’m not very pretty, am I? And I have no clue what to do with you. I guess maybe I could hit you with this thing.” Whack, whack. "I know you don't really like me, do you?" Whack, whack.

That seems like a bad idea.

Am I overdoing it? Have I conquered the entire world and been crowned Empress Of All She Surveys? No? Then no, I’m not overdoing it. Since that’s the long-term goal.

I think he’s also subtly accusing me of being transsexual. Maybe because I’m not demonstrating a properly shy and retiring feminine nature.

But it’s nice that he’s "not a mean person" - even if he has written me this letter offering me his confusing and unsolicited criticism, and suggested that I’m perpetrating a fraud about my stated gender.

He got one thing right, though, and that is: yes, I do love myself. I think that’s the trait in me that most often annoys people who don’t.

Oh, This Is Lame!

I got an email from Terisa Greenan, the creator of the polyamory-themed web series "Family" that I've been linking to.

"Ernie Joseph, who plays Ben on our Web series “Family,” recently shot a commercial for the Australian olive oil company OliVaylle. The commercial was created by Mulberry Street advertising firm and produced by Black Squirrel Productions in Seattle. Ernie was excited about this new opportunity because he was told by the producers that he was likely going to be the new face of the brand, and that there could be a series of commercials featuring him to be produced in the future. Then, suddenly, the plug was pulled on his new advertising gig and the commercial Ernie shot was actually re-shot with a different actor. Producers told Ernie that the owner’s of OliVaylle had received links to “Family” and because of the nature of the show, no longer wanted Ernie to represent them."

Read more about it here. This stinks on ice. He's an actor, for God's sake. It's bad enough to discriminate against people who actually are polyamorous. This guy got shafted for just playing one on TV, as it were.

I don't usually re-post these sorts of things.... But this is so beautiful. The music is great, the photos are moving. It's such a perfect expression of this very important human rights issue.

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

Letter From A Reader

Dear Matisse,

Firstly, thank you for your entertaining and informative blog. I have been enjoying it for several years now. I understand your time is valuable, and appreciate that. As a potential contribution, perhaps you can get another entry, or Stranger column out of this...and hopefully it won't be a 'bad' one!

I am seriously looking at becoming an escort, and have read some of your advice over the years, and am having some trouble locating (and don't recall you writing about it...which, of course, does not mean that you didn't write about it) info on how to tell if an escort service listing for women is legit, and not, well, the fuzz.

I remember your other tips, thank you. I was hoping you may have some tips on this. For example, there was an ad on Craigslist for women, and I have been corresponding with the woman who runs this operation. I have asked questions regarding safety, attire, fees, payment, etc. and am wondering if it is 'normal' to have the woman host, even if the gentlemen are from out of town & are likely staying in a hotel on business already. Do you know and/or have input on this, please?

So far, everything seems on the up & up, so to speak. She runs her business through referrals only from her trusted clients (or so she says). She did make one mention of "if you could seduce and completely pamper someone you have never met before". I am really looking to protect myself. Would it be better to locate one online & "apply" there?

Oh, what a charming reader. See, I am not immune to flattery, and I appreciate the acknowledgment of my needs. I like this person already.

So, Dear Reader, because you seem very nice, I am going to give you some advice on this, somewhat against my better judgment. I fear that in the wake of this, I am probably get a slew of “How do I do so-and-so and not get arrested?” I don’t answer those questions because I am not an attorney. Telling people how to break the law and not get caught is not the focus of this blog.

But I am going to give you some general tips, and here’s what I want from you in return. I want you to take some of the money you earn as an escort, and go very soon to consult an attorney in your area. Pay her/him to tell you about the law. That is just the smart thing to do. So be smart.

Also, go read this site, and watch the videos. These girls are far more current in the escort game than I am. And make a donation, too.

Here’s a book to start you off. There are actually tons of how-to-be-an-escort books around. In my opinion you should read them all, but you must at least read a few.

And read The Gift Of Fear.

Now, a few simple, not-legal-advice remarks.

Basic Rule: Don’t discuss anything illegal when you talk to your (potential) agency. I mean it. Do not talk about sex. Talk about your time and attention - that’s what you are selling. There are some buzz words you can use – “pamper” is fine. I personally think “seduce” is over the line. You can say things like “I want to make everyone I see happy they met me.” Remember, it is not illegal to work for an escort service. It’s only illegal to agree to have sex for money.

There is no good reason why you would ever mention sex to the agency, and they should not talk about sex to you. If they do, that’s a red flag. If they are talking about illegal things to you, they will talk about them to the clients, and that’s not cool.

You should work for an agency that’s been around a long time and has a reputation for good service and fair dealings. It takes time to build up trusted clientele. And as a new girl, you should only be sent to see men who know how this works and will be nice to you.

I’m puzzled by how you say “find one online” You did find one online…?

But Craigslist? Craigslist? Dear girl. No, no, no. Drop that and walk quickly away. You do not want anything to do with anyone on Craigslist. I strongly urge you to not go any further with that. Go up to that box in the left corner and search “Craigslist” for my previous remarks on the subject. (Note: Craigslist is fine for non-sex-work things. Not fine for sex work, though.)

Go look on Eros-Guide, if they have one for where you live. Find the agency with the nicest and most expensive-looking website. Then Google “escort reviews” and the name of your city. Search that agency name on the local escort review board. See what you get. If there is no Eros-Guide, search the board for the best-liked agency.

There is no normal in the escort business, there’s only what you do or don’t wish to do. It seems like you’re being asked to have the guys come to your place. It used to be that "escort" meant "outcall", but the term is more flexible now. If you want to do incall, that's all right, but I don’t recommend it in your case. If you’re going to let this agency owner give people your home address, I think she should first prove her good-client chops by sending you on outcalls for a while. Her idea of “a really nice guy” might differ dramatically from yours. You’ll want to find that out someplace besides your own doorstep.

Best of luck to you, and be careful!

So, I'm currently banging my head against the keyboard of my computer, trying to make a Stranger column come out of it. I'm not sure if the magic words are lodged in my skull, or if they are trapped somewhere between the keys. But I feel that some percussion is required somewhere, and quickly, because it's due today.

That's all exactly as much fun as it sounds like it would be, so I'll spare you further description. Until I'm done with my impact-play scene, perhaps you'll amuse yourself making up captions for this Flickr shot.

I have arranged a large part of my life around the fact that I am not a morning person. As in, seriously not.

However, sometimes one has to do things one does not like. So this morning I am up at 7am to go meet a designer at a showroom - down south of Auburn, for god's sake - to pick out stuff for the remodel.

Seven-a-m. That's the middle of the night, as far as I am concerned. I really believe that each person's body is wired to want to sleep at certain times and be awake at certain times, and it's hard for us to change that. My body? Wants to stay awake until 2 or 3 am, and then sleep until 10 or 11am. That is what feels normal to me.

So the Mistress is a bit cranky this morning. But I'll try to be amused by faucets and tiles and so on. Check the Flickr feed, I'll send some snapshots.

But really, who put the morning people in charge?

It's a new edition of The Stranger and a new edition of me talking about sexy stuff. Enjoy!

Wow, there's a lot of kinky stuff going on this weekend. The perma-fabulous Midori is in town! She's hosting the annual Bang For The Buck Party Friday night, for all the hot women in Seattle. It's at the Wet Spot/ CSPC, and it will be wild, and full of hot women. Check the sexy flyer out here.
She's doing some workshops at Babeland as well!

***

Having such cool events and such a great social scene, it's easy to forget that it ain't so easy everywhere. Right now in the UK, kinky people are struggling with the so-called "extreme porn ban". As of January 2009, it is illegal for anyone in England and Wales to possess an "extreme" image, even if the activity itself is legal.

What the hell is that? Besides utter bullshit, I mean. It's not illegal to be kinky, but it's illegal to have a picture of it?

But there's a group called backlash. backlash was created in 2005 by the Libertarian Alliance, the Spanner Trust, the Sexual Freedom Coalition, Feminists against Censorship, Ofwatch and Unfettered to collate evidence for an informed debate on censorship and to fight plans to criminalise ownership of material the Home Office finds abhorrent.
It is committed to raising awareness about why the plans are wrong, won't work and about the inevitable unintended consequences if government plans go ahead.
Go here to read all about this ban and what you can do to help backlash!

It's another episode of the polyamory web-cast series, Family. In this one, Gemma meets some of the neighbors...



I'm enjoying these very much, and I know other folks are too. I have only one critique of them. I want more, now!

You see, I am trying to be patient while the filmmakers build what is obviously going to be a layered story-arc, but I am not naturally inclined to patience. I want to learn some more about the main triad. Thus far, we haven't seen any exposition about how they came to be, and how the relationships work. Were two of them in a couple before the third came along, or did they all get together at more or less the same time? We understand that Gemma is sexual with both Ben and Stuart, but are Ben and Stuart sexual with each other? There are references to Stuart having other partners, but it's not totally clear if that's true, and what about Ben? I feel like I don't know these people very well, and I'd like to.

One of the rules of writing dialogue is: never have your characters talk about things they already know. Thus, backstory can be hard to do without sliding into this kind of thing: "As you know, Gemma, I was poly for a long time before we met, but Stuart is new to this..." Bad. It's the dreaded "info dump" that you'll see unwary writers do, usually about chapter two, in novels.

So they aren't falling into that trap, which I appreciate. I'd simply like to add more to my understanding of the characters. However, this episode ends with one of the previously-hostile neighbors making a friendly overture. Maybe if that storyline develops, we can get some history and outline, as they explain it to the new people.

I read an article in the New York Times recently, about scientific studies of the nature of women’s sexual desires. It’s a long piece, but I think it’s well worth reading. So go do that, and then come back and read this, because this is not intended to be a review or a summary of the article, but rather some thoughts of mine in response to it.

My first thought about Meredith Chivers was: how come I never get to volunteer for studies like this? I suppose one has to answer those “research subjects needed” ads. But it just sounds very interesting to be shown different kinds of porn, and then have your responses measured. Of course, I’d be wild with curiosity to know how my reactions compared with other people’s, and I imagine they don’t tell you about that.

This is interesting. (Emphasis mine.)

“Richard Lippa, a psychologist at California State University, has employed surveys of thousands of subjects to demonstrate over the past few years that while men with high sex drives report an even more polarized pattern of attraction than most males (to women for heterosexuals and to men for homosexuals), in women the opposite is generally true: the higher the drive, the greater the attraction to both sexes, though this may not be so for lesbians.”

So according to this, women who are not lesbians, but who do have naturally higher sex drives, are more likely to be attracted to both men and women? That would explain a lot.

It may be be that I have done an injustice to some of the dominant men who said they could train their submissive female partners to come on command, without any physical stimulation. Although I will point out that it still doesn’t happen instantly, at the snap of a finger. Also, note the keyword: rare.

“Barry Komisaruk, a neuroscientist at Rutgers University, has subjects bring themselves to orgasm while lying with their heads in an fM.R.I. scanner — he aims to chart the activity of the female brain as subjects near and reach four types of climax: orgasms attained by touching the clitoris; by stimulating the anterior wall of the vagina or, more specifically, the G spot; by stimulating the cervix; and by “thinking off,” Komisaruk said, without any touch at all. While the possibility of a purely cervical orgasm may be in considerable doubt, in 1992 Komisaruk, collaborating with the Rutgers sexologist Beverly Whipple (who established, more or less, the existence of the G spot in the ’80s), carried out one of the most interesting experiments in female sexuality: by measuring heart rate, perspiration, pupil dilation and pain threshold, they proved that some rare women can think themselves to climax.”

All of Marta Meana’s remarks are very interesting:

"For women, “being desired is the orgasm,” Meana said somewhat metaphorically — it is, in her vision, at once the thing craved and the spark of craving…. She recalled a patient whose lover was thoroughly empathetic and asked frequently during lovemaking, “ ‘Is this O.K.?’ Which was very unarousing to her. It was loving, but there was no oomph” — no urgency emanating from the man, no sign that his craving of the patient was beyond control.”

Yes, I dislike that, too. I mean, it’s all right to ask occasionally, but I have been with lovers who ask over and over, and it is a turn-off.

“And within a committed relationship, the crucial stimulus of being desired decreases considerably, not only because the woman’s partner loses a degree of interest but also, more important, because the woman feels that her partner is trapped, that a choice — the choosing of her — is no longer being carried out…. “

Speaking only for myself, I agree with this, and I think this is one of the many reasons why polyamory is the right thing for me. I continue to feel chosen by my lovers, and to feel that I am choosing them. And that if I wish, I can choose someone in addition to them, and feel the pleasure of being chosen by the new partner.

"A symbolic scene ran through Meana’s talk of female lust: a woman pinned against an alley wall, being ravished. Here, in Meana’s vision, was an emblem of female heat. The ravisher is so overcome by a craving focused on this particular woman that he cannot contain himself; he transgresses societal codes in order to seize her, and she, feeling herself to be the unique object of his desire, is electrified by her own reactive charge and surrenders. Meana apologized for the regressive, anti-feminist sound of the scene."

As is acknowledged in the article, this is a very tricky subject to talk about. So let me say also what the researchers said: rape is very very wrong. I do not condone rape, ever.

Let us talk instead of how I have felt with people – both men and women – that I was attracted to and wanted to have sex with. In the chapter that precedes the sex, where you have not said it aloud but both of you are thinking it, the part where you are both dancing and feinting and flirting, every sense you have trained on the other – their smile, their scent, the timbre of the voice as they speak to you – in that moment, it is extremely arousing to feel that they want you so much that they wish to transgress, that they would seize you if they could, and that you would be consumed in that passion.

You can’t manufacture that electricity if one of you isn’t willing. But if there’s even a slight tingle, it is possible sometimes to turn up the juice. I have a dual perspective - I have seduced and ravished other women myself. I know how I conveyed with my eyes, my words, the angle of my head and my body, that if she would only say yes, I could burn us both up in passion, and that we would enjoy that burning. I know what it feels like to have the electricity in me run through my hands and mouth and into someone else, and electrify her. I have seen the pleasure that women took in surrendering to me in that way.

And the pleasure that I took in doing that was very different from the pleasure I took when it was my back to the alley wall, being electrified by someone else’s charge.

It’s not that you must always be either the ravisher or the ravished in sex. But it’s a potent dynamic of desire. I think that it’s one of the things that can draw both men and women to dominant/submissive sex: the wish to experience the role of either the one who dares to transgress, and thus wins his/her desire - or the role of the one who is so desired that a lover dares all for them.

Thank you, dear readers, for your outpouring of clever ideas and suggestions about lighting. Great minds apparently think alike - or Google alike - because several of ya'll sent me links to this site: Y Lighting. I think their stuff has a lot of promise. It's not exactly what I was envisioning, but lots of it is close, and it's all very cool.

Several folks made brilliant (heh) remarks about LED lights.

Other suggestions included using photo gear, which is where I got the idea to begin with. I used to do a lot of photography. I miss it, but I really don't shoot anymore - no time, I blog instead! However, I still have a couple of softboxes designed for hot lights, and I'm not above re-purposing them if need be. (If it could be done safely, of course.)

And lots of you also took the opportunity to say sweet things to me about the blog and the column and the podcasts, which is always very nice to hear, so thank you for that, as well.

Hey, clever readers - give to me your vast store of knowledge about lighting. Because it may be that what I want already exists, and my Google-fu has failed me.

What I want is a light box I can install in my wall. I don't mean to display images on, I mean to use as a light source. Let me explain what I think I'm going to do, and you tell me if you've seen anything like this...

In my lighting fantasy, Jerry The Super-Contractor cuts a rectangle out of the sheetrock of my wall. Size? Oh, just say roughly 24 inches tall by 18 across. That’s just off the top of my head, the size is flexible. Not much smaller than that, although bigger could be cool. Height? Oh, say starting from slightly above my eye level.

In the open space, we wire in sockets for several standard light bulbs. Wattage TBD, but something like three 60w bulbs, so around the 180w total. On a dimmer switch, naturally.

I’m fond of the warmth of incandescent bulbs but I suppose I might be talked into color-corrected, non-flickering fluorescents.

Over these bulbs, we place white fabric, of the type that is used for lampshades and photographer’s softboxes, so it’s designed to withstand heat. It would be intended to lay flat, flush to the wall, not protruding at all.

Obviously I need to be able to open this up and change the bulbs. So the fabric – the shade, essentially – would need to be on some sort of frame. Perhaps we might frame in the hole and then design the shade-frame to fit snugly into that hole. I’m open to ideas about that, as long as it works and looks cool.

In sum: I want a large soft light source to wash the area, and one that's recessed into the wall so that it's flat. I want to clear up the floor space of the various floor lamps I’ve got going on now. (Do not speak of overhead lights to me, overhead lights are evil.)

Can you visualize what I'm saying? I can make these if need be, but I have no desire to re-invent the wheel if that’s unnecessary. Has anyone seen anything like this already made and commercially available? I’ve looked and looked and seen nothing like this.

A new podcast! In which Monk and I talk about sex work busts in Seattle and what not to do if you're operating a store-front sex work business. We're such entrepreneurs ourselves that we're fascinated by other forms of sex-oriented businesses, and how they succeed or fail. We'd do a great sexy-business-advice radio show... except that we're too busy running our various businesses.

Have a lovely weekend!

So I'm mostly all about shopping for stuff for the house right now, since the Great Remodel of '09 is soon to begin. Thus, most of my recent shopping bookmarks look like this, or this, or this.

But I am thinking about kinky stuff too. I've long wanted one of these, for example, and have had trouble finding one that was sized for a MAN and not a five-foot-five, hundred-and-twenty pound woman. I'd need to go find a looooong hose extension for a vacuum, though, because I don't want the dang thing roaring away next to me while I play. I imagine I'll be in Home Depot-esque places a lot the next few weeks/months, that seems like an opportunity.

This, however... I don't know, part of me thinks it's very ingenious and cleverly made. But it's also sort of disturbing, somehow. I suppose that really, it is simply the equivalent of a strap-on dildo, and god knows I'm a big fan of those.

But there's just something a little squick-making about these images. I think I'd respond to it better if they'd pictured it ON someone. Or even a dummy. As it is, there's just something very Silence of The Lambs about the photos. Do men feel that way when they look at hyper-realistic dildos? I had not thought so, but...

Nonetheless, I'm sure it will sell like crazy. Not my fetish, but just fine if you're into it.

Complete and unedited text of a recent email...

Subject: Dominators
Mistress Matisse,

Do you know of any men who dominate women?

I saw a video of women getting her vagina spanked and thought it would be fun to do.

Are there women who like to get that done to them?
I thought you would know.
Thank you.
PS Of all the dominatrixes I have seen on the internet you are the most powerful looking.

Even after all these years, emails like this puzzle me. I mean, how can this man have found ME on the internet, and yet not have found any evidence of male dominants? Is he asking me how to find submissive women in real life? Or does he want more female-submissive porn? Or is he just asking me to confirm the existence of a species?

He's being polite, so I'd help him if I could. But I don't even know where to start with questions like this, except to be absolutely literal.

So: Yes, I know men who dominate women. Lots of them.

Yes, I am certain there are women who like their pussies spanked.

And - thank you.

Hope that's helpful to you in some way I don't comprehend...

Happy Inauguration Day!

This is a very historic day! And today, I am very happy and hopeful about the future of America! Yay, President Obama!

A few points of information about my schedule...

I have time available Wednesday of this week, so if you've been trying (and failing) to schedule with me, talk to me.

EDIT: Looks like I have some time Friday too.

***

About Evening Appointments: In the past, I have not been open to evening sessions - meaning, not after 8pm or so. The reasons for that rule were were two-fold.

One was my experience that, as the saying goes, "Nothing good happens after midnight". By that I mean: daytime sessions with new people are less likely to turn out badly than nighttime sessions with new people. Thus, no nighttime sessions equals less chance of bad experiences.

But things have changed since I made that rule. I almost never see new people anymore, so why not see my favored boys at night, if they ask nicely?

My other reason - which will still hold true to some degree - is that most other people I care about work in the daytime and socialize at night. If I want to spend time with my lovers and friends, I must arrange my schedule accordingly.

But life changes, and lately I have more flexibility there.

So if I have met you before, then I'm willing to spend an evening with you. Carpe noctum.

Okay, I am now officially obsessed with the whole remodeling/redecorating thing for my house. Ob-sessed. And what do I do when I’m obsessed with something? I buy a whole lot of books on the subject and start reading.

I had picked up a couple of decorating books and magazines the last few weeks, but today I made a special trip to the big magazine rack at the Broadway QFC and bought one of every interior-design magazine they had to offer. Wow, there’s a lot of them!

And then I went across the street to Bailey-Coy and bought a few more magazines, and I also bought this book: Domino: The Book of Decorating: A room-by-room guide to creating a home that makes you happy.

I had seen this book, but initially disdained it, because it does not have a big glossy photo of some fabulous room on the cover, and so what the heck good is that? And the styles of the rooms in the photos inside seemed all very modern, with lots of primary colors. Sort of first-apartment-ish, not at all what I'm thinking of.

But then I flipped through it a bit more and decided it would be helpful. It’s very step-by-step, room-by-room, and it explains a lot about why stuff works together, or doesn’t. It’s got lots of lists and charts and graphs, and I think it'll help me conceptualize what I want.

Much of what’s going to happen at the Little House doesn’t really fall in the “decorating” category. I’m taking out a interior wall to expand the playroom, and remodeling the adjoining bathroom. (And getting rid of that ugly mantle, which is this 70’s faux-rock horror. You know, those big brown stones that you could practically rock-climb on. Terrible!)

But doing that, plus some other factors, are inspiring me to pretty much redecorate the whole damn house - living room, dining room, ect. At least, until I run out of money. That’s a challenge, because I’ve never actually set out to decorate a house in any purposeful way. The furniture I have now is just random pieces I’ve picked up here and there, without any plan other than, “Oh, I like that - and hey, it’s on sale!”

The Big House is done in mostly sort of a contemporary style, with a lot of nice Danish teak pieces. I like that fine, but I am feeling a desire for a different look at my house. Something more classic/traditional, with some antique pieces, and a bit of a French/Italian feel to it. Warm and sexy and a little exotic. But not fussy. I do not like busy, cluttered spaces, with little chachkies everywhere. Some people do that look very well, and live with it comfortably, but not me. I want surroundings that are pretty, but I also like clear surfaces and some negative space for my eyes to rest upon.

So, the actual remodeling hasn’t even started yet – you know how these things go, twice as much and twice as long as you originally planned. But I’m excited about the process just the same.

Good Information To Have: a video from Red Light Chicago about what exactly happens if you get arrested on a misdemeanor prostitution charge. It's helpful in terms of planning what-if scenarios, and gives specific little details worth knowing. For example, because it's a collect call, you can't call a cell phone from jail, you can only call a land-line. So whoever you'd want to call in such an emergency, you need to have a land-line phone number memorized for them.

It's Part Two in the Know Your Rights series, but the whole site is worth checking out. I think these women are way cool!

For further information about your legal rights - everyone's rights, not just sex workers - in the event of an arrest, read this: Beat The Heat: How To Handle Encounters With Law Enforcement. This book is done in sort of a comic-book style, so it's VERY easy to understand, no legal education required. It's just the basics, this is no substitute for a real attorney. And I hope none of us ever need it, but hey, knowledge is power, so empower yourself.

So I put a new and terribly mean picture into the Flickr feed yesterday. (Nipples and staples and needles, oh my!)

And today some thoughtful reader sent me a link to this truly unpleasant little case history. Guys, you might want to get a firm grip on the family jewels before you read this. It's pretty eeek-making. One has to reluctantly admire the sheer fortitude of the man, but oooooo, that's just a whole series of bad ideas.

Moral of the story: don't try that at home, kids. Put yourselves into the hands of caring and thoughtful women like me. We'll see you through it without you - ahem - losing anything.

The latest Stranger column, about a subject that's near and dear to my heart: kinky sex. Enjoy!

While I'm off engaging in mean and delightful activities... Enjoy the newest episode of the polyamory web-series "Family".

I’m about to start having some remodeling done at the house where I have sessions with people. I’m a little nervous about this. This is one of those things where deep inside my head, there's a voice that says "Hey, you're not allowed to do this. Telling people to tear out bathroom fixtures is a grown-up thing to do, and you're not really a grown-up, you're just pretending to be."

I felt that way when I bought the house, too. Only - I am really am a grown-up, apparently. And thus I can authorize people to take a crowbar to that unbelievably ugly fireplace mantle in my living room. Thank god.

Fortunately, I happen to be friends with a contractor who is not only a good guy, but is also kinky, so he’s doing the work for me. And he's all right with working in the morning when I'm not there, and being done and gone for the day by the time I show up to be the Mistress. I think my pal Jerry gets up in the morning right about the time I'm going to bed at night. So that'll be fine.

Thus, on Saturday he and his partner and one of their guys showed up at my house to look it over and make some plans about what needed to happen.

So picture me in my playspace, with three big burly guys all dressed in smudged Carhart’s and steel-toed boots, stomping around thumping on my walls, peering at my plumbing, and talking about on-demand hot-water heaters. Sounds like a scene, doesn’t it? Not quite. Or at least I’m not sure who was topping who.

I completely trust Jerry, and I think the work itself is going to be fine, but we had a few let-me-correct-that-impression moments. I suppose that’s normal with these things.

For example, I expect that if you say the word dungeon to a non-kinky person, they automatically picture: cold, bare, industrial-looking room. God knows I have played in lots of places that looked like that, either because it’s cheap and practical for a public space, or because the owner liked that style. But it’s never appealed to me particularly. I’m not cold and hard in my scenes, I don’t want cold and hard in my décor.

So I had to clarify that a bit. We were all actually standing in my dungeon at the time, which is not at all cold or bare or industrial in appearance. It’s all red walls and black carpet and heavy velvety curtains - rather intimate.

I was talking about taking out a wall and putting in French doors to another room, and one of the not-kinky guys says, “Hey, you could put in a steel roll-down door, like on a garage!”

A steel roll-down door? Well, that would be perfect in a warehouse with concrete floors and eighteen-foot ceilings. But that’s not going to go so well in my house. I raised my eyebrow and looked at him sideways. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s the motif I’m going for.” I made a little look-around gesture.

He furrowed his brow. “Well, what are you going for?”

“Something more – feminine.”

“Feminine!” He let out a snort of laughter.

I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, feminine. I am a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Jerry laughed too. “Oh, we noticed.” After that, they invoked the word “feminine” numerous times in discussing my design options, with an accompanying palms-up, wiggly-fingered gesture. So apparently I made my point about that. I doubt I’ll hear any more about garage doors.

Hey, it's another podcast! We're back on the ball with these things.

In this one, we respond to a letter asking about dominant women and fucking. I will note that as usual, Monk and I made a lot of bad jokes about the letter when we were recording. We've since actually met the woman who wrote us, and she's very nice, so I feel slightly bad about about kidding her so much, even in absentia.

However, the way Monk and I do these is: we shut ourselves up, in a little tiny soundproof room, with microphones and headsets and a sound guy in a glass booth making hand signals at us, and a handful of your printed-out emails, and we just answer one after another, until we have four or five episodes recorded. It's always at night, and we're often propping ourselves up with Red Bull or Monster or something like that, and the longer we go, the more silly and slightly snarky we become.

Thus, if your question happens to be one we answer at the beginning of a podcast session, we'll be sort of serious and thoughtful in our answer to it. If you happen to be the last email in the pile - oh, there's gonna be a lot of flippant wisecracks and sex-with-lawn-gnomes jokes. It's just the way it goes.

I think this was a last-one-of-the-nighter. So, pretty gonzo.

But I do hate the word "subbie" with a passion. Really.

Good lord, I thought I got fucked-up letters. Eleven Gay Bars In Seattle Receive Threats To Poison Their Patrons With Ricin.

The Stranger also received a letter warning of the poisoning threats, and the link is to the original post on the Slog. Click on the Slog main page for the follow-up posts, of which there are already several. There will undoubtedly be more updates on TheStranger.com as information becomes available.

There is a pub-crawl being planned for Friday night to show support for the bars being threatened.

Complete and unedited text of a recent email...

SUBJECT: ok I'm new at this
I love my wife but she refuses to dominate me in any way, shape or form. My secret desire to to have a woman with a strap-on to, well, fu(k me in the ass. I would wear panties while this happened.

any help?

Yes, clearly you are a beginner, dear man, or you would not have written such a letter to me. You want to be dominated? Good. Prepare to get spanked.

This letter is a perfect example of a behavior that is anathema to me: intellectual laziness. See my previous rants on the subject here, and here, and probably countless other dates that I can't be bothered to link to.

You see, I am not Dan Savage - I do not get paid to give sex advice. Sometimes, out of the simple goodness of my heart, I spend my very valuable time answering people's requests for help, both here on the blog, and via private email. But you have to make it easy for me. If you cannot be bothered to give me any more information than this, I really cannot imagine why I would bestir myself to try and give you advice. Am I supposed to use my psychic powers to deduce all the variables and form a sensible answer to your question?

Here's something I can guess without ESP, though. If you're putting as much effort into making this idea attractive to your wife as you did in writing this email, I can see why she's not going for the idea. I suggest you spend some time considering what's in it for her to fulfill your fantasy. Is she going to get lots of orgasms? Or a long foot massage and dinner cooked for her? Or a new pair of Salvatore Ferragamo shoes? I think she should get all three, but that's just me. Figure out what she wants, and give it to her. Then see about getting what you want.

I am not going to write about how much I hate snow.

***

If you know me – or you’ve been reading me for very long – you know that I am often a bit standoffish when I am unexpectedly approached by strangers in public. Call it good boundaries, or a suspicious nature, but I tend to mind my own business and let other people mind theirs.

However, occasionally it’s a good thing when strangers talk to me. It’s happened twice lately. Once was a very sweet girl introducing herself to me and Monk, in a restaurant on Broadway. She recognized us and came to our table to say hi, she was a fan of ours. She was just perfectly charming and appropriate about it, and we were pleased to meet her. So greetings go out to RhythmGirl.

The other occasion was different. Much less charming, but it definitely prevented me from doing something I shouldn’t have.

The day in question was December 30^th. I had some pre-NYE shopping to do at University Village. But it seemed I wasn’t the only one. It was mid-afternoon on a work day, but still, the place was jammed with people. Or more accurately, jammed with cars. I wasn’t trying to score Rock-Star Parking (meaning: ten feet from the door of your destination) but even in the furthest reaches of the lots, there were seemingly no parking spots available, and a lot of people cruising around looking for them.

So around and around I went, getting more and more frustrated, until after about fifteen minutes, I saw some people getting into a car in my aisle. They were on my left, so I put on the turn signal, and sat waiting for them to pull out. It took them a few minutes to organize themselves, but I wasn’t impatient, I do that too. I just waited.

They eased back out of the spot, and as they did, a little car came zipping down the lane, squeezed past the emerging car so tightly I expected to hear sheet metal scraping, and pulled into the space. My space.

Now, I expect anyone who drives has had this happen to them at some point or other, and it’s happened to me before. But it’s one thing when you think that maybe the other driver really didn’t see you.

This woman did. I know she did because when I saw what she was about to do, I laid on the horn. Twice. In some cities, that might be taken as a friendly hello, but in Seattle, that’s practically a declaration of road-rage. As the driver turned in front of me, she had her head twisted unnaturally far to the right, so I couldn’t see her face, and she wouldn’t have to look at me. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And rage is an accurate description of my response. I do not think of myself as having a quick temper, and I can overlook a lot of annoyances. But occasionally…I just snap. And it was just so blatant, and so depersonalizing. I mean, I doubt if that woman would have physically shoved me aside to get ahead of me in a line at QFC. But since we were both in cars, it was like I wasn’t really a person. This kind of thing is what gives car-drivers a bad rap.

As fate would have it, another car pulled out just a few spaces down. I parked my car and got out and let me tell you, dear readers, I had blood in my eye. I looked around and spotted the other driver walking rather quickly away, and I walked after her, adrenaline surging through my body. I had some very choice words for her, and I was going to deliver them, loudly. I did not care if she went into the fanciest store in U. Village, she was going to get an earful from me. I imagine I looked like a woman who was about to Start Something, because I was.

I was closing the distance between us when directly into my path hopped a small older woman. She was dressed in what I call Bellevue Peasant style – boots, long full skirt, poofy sweater and lots of scarves and jewelry. Sort of an expensive earth-mother look.

Her voice, however, was not small.

“Oh, my dear, oh I SAW what happened, oh my goodness I can’t believe that woman DID that, that is the rudest thing I ever SAW!”

I paused, and she kept talking, in a fast New York-ish voice, without seeming to draw breath. “You were there waiting, and she just – unbelievable! I think she got her driver’s license by correspondence course or something, I mean, honestly! Did you see her face? Vacant! I REALLY think she’s not all there!”

We both looked after the offending driver, who was still within view, and possibly even earshot, given the strength of my sympathizer’s voice. She had a soft knitted beret pulled over short dark hair, and the wrinkles around her dark eyes, as she shifted her gaze back to me, made her look wise and maternal.

“And I know, I know,” she went on. “You want to say something to her, and I understand, but you know, just let it go, let it go. Someone like that, pah, an idiot, she’s not worth bothering with, really.” She waved a diamond-ringed hand in dismissal.

I made some noise indicating my unsatisfied outrage, and she continued the soothing opera of abuse. “I know, it was SO unbelievably rude, inexcusable. She’s an absolute moron. But you have to just let things like that go. You’re a better person than that.”

I took a long breath in and out and relaxed my shoulders. “All right. All right. You’re right. I should just let it go.”

She patted my arm. “That’s the best thing. Don’t let it ruin your afternoon. It was stupid but now it’s over. You’re a better person.”

I smiled at her. “Thank you for saying that, it really helps.” And it did. I was still annoyed, but I wasn’t seeing-red angry anymore. “You’re very kind to do this.”

I wished her a pleasant afternoon and turned and walked in the opposite direction. And in retrospect, I am glad I didn’t vent my not-unreasonable wrath on the other driver. I had other things to do than give driver-etiquette lessons, and somehow I doubt those lessons would have been gratefully received.

So if you’ve the rude idiot who parked your blue car in this manner on the day in question, a nice lady saved you from an unpleasant confrontation. I wouldn’t count on her following you around, however, and the next person you offend may not be as easily placated as I was. Even if you don’t care about other people’s feelings, you might think about whether you want to be inviting such experiences upon yourself.

Wow, it's 2009 - first post for the new year. I got together with a number of my closest friends to see the old year out. We missed a few pals who had to be elsewhere (hi, Candy and MC!), but otherwise, it was a lovely, champagne-y evening with bondage, naked people, needles, and people getting pantsed. Of course, we had a lot of really gorgeously-gowned women and sharply-attired men, in addition to the naked people. I myself find the contrast between the two extremes quite charming.

And I'm ready for January. A lot of good things are going to happen this year, I feel sure of it. I'm going to start 2009 off with a super-busy day today, catching up with some people I have missed because of the snowstorm. So while I do that, please enjoy the latest installment of the polayamory web-series by the Seattle-based film group 3 Dog Pictures: Family, Episode 4 "10 O'clock News"

Happy day - it's a new podcast! (Finally, right? I know.)

First, Monk does a crazy 30-second riff on what a porn movie would sound like - on radio. (You’ll just have to listen to it.)

And then we address a letter from a reader who asks “Since monogamy is not an option, how do you make your primary partner feel special in a polyamorous relationship?” Monk and I have some thoughts about that, so listen and enjoy! About sixteen minutes.