Saturday, June 23, 2007

Very Idiotic Provincial

I’m surrounded by lesbians. Short, chubby lesbians. Tall, rangy lesbians. Old Lesbians For Change. Softball lesbians. Punk lesbians. There are more crewcuts than I can shake a stick at, and frankly, not much in the way of lipstick.

On the way back to VIP, flash my bracelet, Security in an orange shirt calls at me. It takes me a minute to realize what she said was, “I’ll have to frisk you first,” and a second minute to realize it’s flirting. She’s a foot shorter than me, rosy cheeks, sleek grey bob, smooth unlined skin and great tits on a buxom body, waist vanishing as she approaches fifty. Later, I flirt with the lesbian comedienne, the big name anchoring the show, joking that all the hot chicks out there are making me bi-curious. Nothing says Pride Day Celebration like a hetero whore, right?

Here’s the thing. I don’t “get” lesbianism. It’s not that I don’t support anyone’s right to be with whom they are born to be with. But I don’t “get” it in the way that I don’t “get” what it’s like to be black. Just as I can only get a glimpse of what Big City Lover or Circus Guy go through in their daily lives, and they can only speculate what it’s like to be in mine, I don’t understand how the feeling of wanting can be wanting women only. Beautiful Girl tells me, “I love being with a woman, but I can’t imagine living without cock.”

Um, ditto.

I felt really, really provincial and kind of homophobic when I kept catching myself staring at the lesbian couples. Not the gay ones – I don’t know why it’s different, maybe because they are already “not me”, what with the testicles and all. But the women, the strong and beautiful women, were a herd of ten thousand zebras, giraffes, gazelles (and the occasional warthog) around one very confused and outnumbered lioness.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

A Little Diversion (Poem for Beautiful Girl)

(People who post poetry on their blogs are lame.)

Fairfield Inn Room 346, Kansas City, Kansas

You are a goddess and a genius
i say to my friend she says to me
we will be princesses together
with yellow stones in your tiara and me with a green in mine
Victory Victoria Alexandria Albertine
your little sister shall be Albertine
and we will keep the good names.

You are an angel and a goddess my friend she says to me, she has created
me as Celestial, Celeste, Celesta (a tiny piano?
why not - i think it has the voice of angels, thin bells
arguing on high)
me as the heroin of my story
worth every penny for the high
dirty needles left in our wake
as she gets up from the dermabrasion table
(all reinvention comes from vanity)
and i lay down on the floor.

You are a genius and an angel
we say, we kiss hello, we rise from hell
oh, how we shriek with joy and share our scalps
and swap shampoo in tiny hotel bottles
that remind us of the nights
we spent and spooned, were chaperoned
and we were good little girls
good as gold, good as angels,
good as kind goddesses, not that other kind
of goddess, whose pretty words are sharp like knives
but not as sharp as scalpels - why make an easy wound?
we say, and laugh, receive our tributes
as our due, we pay our dues
with checks that bounce, and sign our names
Morgana, Calliope, Misti, Alice Pleasance
or just 'me', illegibly, i, i, i,
and tell our paramours to prove their love
and take the bait, slay the dragon, hold the line,
i'll be back, i promise, one day, i'll be back.

Back soon...

Sorry, Gentle Readers -

5 days of being "off" writing - not really having anything to say, not willing to write filler.

5 days of being not just heinously busy but surrounded by other people.

5 days of being in a location with minimal cell service, minimal internet, working my 'real job' all day...surrounded by other people.

So I am remiss. I have greatly appreciated the people who have checked in with me - thank you (personal thanks to come, a blog thank-you-note is lameass).

I did in that span have one long, interesting client - I've been writing it in my head and will post probably tomorrow or the next day.

Meanwhile - a little something written on a tablecloth.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Sugasm #82

The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #83? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form.

This Week’s Picks

Back Surgery and Sex-How do you connect sexually when you can’t connect physically? (…)
“There was no sex. It wasn’t possible.”

A Hard Day’s Play - part 4 (…)
“But all the while, there was the awareness of the runes.”

Unrequited (…)
“The man in question is a friend and sometime fuck-buddy.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Google Search: &imgtype=face (…)

Editor’s Choice
Coffee (…)

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday (

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
The Friday Night Bookstore Crowd (…)
A hundred blowjobs in one night? (…)
Poly & Death (…)
Polyamory from a Lesbian Point of View (…)
“When he was just a word.” (…)

BDSM & Fetish
Goldslut on Top (…)
Featured Fetish - Good Old Fashioned Bondage - YAY! (…)
Flogger Session (…)
Game Type B (…)
Happiness Is A Rosy Bottom (…)
Ownership, sharing and monogamy (…)
Pained need (…)
The power of the Anakin’s paddle (…)
What a weekend it has been… (…)
What vanilla guys can do when they try (…)

Sex Humor
At seventeen (…)
Isn’t That The Thing That Killed The Crocodile Hunter? (…)

Sex Work
Bad Call Breakdown (…)
Found in Translation (…)

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Christine Vinson Nude (…)
Danae (Met Models) (…)
Feeders (Tiffany Lynn) (…)
Friday’s Here…Time For Beer!!!!! (…)
Giving Head (video) (…)
Hegre Art’s Latest Nude Photo Shoots (…)
Nella and Simone (…)
Oily (…)
Summer Cummings - Red and Black Boots (video) (…)

Sex News & Reviews
Pocket Rocket Plus Review (…)
Porn Star’s Claims Merit Trooper’s Suspension (…)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
30-again (…)
Casual (…)
Charlie and Bess (…)
The Cock Slayer (…)
First Trip To The Nude Beach (…)
On Living in the Moment… (…)
Put your hands on me…. fantasy friday (…)
A saucy tale (…)
Some Very Lovable Neighbors (4) (…)
Up Against The Wall… (…)
Welcome To School…. (…)
When you need some time to play basketball (…)

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Hanging Out at Nia's

The Dark and Lovely Nia interviewed me, mostly about blogging and writing, why I do it, and what I think makes for good reading. Here's the text:

What is the first weblog you came across?
I came late to All-About-Me Revolution. I had a couple of friends with LiveJournals, and I first started reading Go Fug Yourself ( when my friend Power Girl told me it was hilarious. It is.

Why did you start blogging?
I had a Myspace, the usual this-is-what-I-think-about-the-world, here’s-what-I-did-today, oh-wow-dryer-lint, no reason for anyone who didn’t know me personally to read it. I started exchanging views with a Myspace Friend (whom I still haven’t met) about sex and relationships, started whoring a bit around that time, and writing publicly was the natural place to go.

Right now, I’m struggling with the relationship between writing and whoring – I’m more prolific (and better) than I’ve ever creatively been before, and there is a worry that whoring is the necessary overall context in which to write. But there are emotional repercussions to sex work, and that’s challenging.

Which blogs do you read?
I don’t put anyone on my blogroll unless I read them regularly so those 27 are the ones I scan every other morning. My corner of the neighborhood is Tom Paine (, La Fille Mariee ( and Gillette ( For sheer style and consistency, the Fug Girls, Postsecret ( and Dan Savage ( are amazing, but I don’t know if the latter two really count as “blogs”.

What appeals to you about the blogs you read?
Funny and clever and something to say beyond who they shagged and when. I wrote ( about reading through the Sugasm (a weekly list of posts from sex bloggers) and avoiding blogs that are only sex acts and their lead-up – I want power exchange or discovery or relationship, and a sexy story may be the way to tell that, but not another wank story with no context. I like it when an article makes me think enough to go write.

Whose writing do you particularly admire?
Edith Wharton – my husband was driving while I read The House of Mirth in the car, and it startled him that I was weeping as I finished the book. She describes the actions, rather than the emotions of the characters, which involves the reader in experiencing the emotional life instead of being told about it. Malcom Gladwell is another favorite – Blink and The Tipping Point, the way he assembles thought about social activity. English mystery writers, especially Dorothy Sayers, the way a mystery must be constructed from the first page to inevitably lead to one conclusion. Terry Pratchett’s social satire disguised as fantasy, brilliantly funny and devastatingly clever.

In your reading do you seek out different points of view?
Yes and no – I want to know what the enemy is up to, but I don’t have the time and energy in my life to spend on agonizing about disagreeing. It’s been hard for me to learn to accept that other people have diametrically opposed viewpoints, and it’s not because they just don’t understand. It’s not my mission to correct them, or absorb their views. But I do like to get new angles and have my thoughts challenged on issues I’m thinking about.

How do you choose items to link?
I have a blogroll that is only blogs I read often, that update often, and that have a quality of writing I can honestly recommend. I link to articles (on and off my roll) in the context of my posts if they inspired me or they have a different take.

What is your policy on comments?
So far un-moderated and delete the occasional spammer. I sometimes step in and request civility, but my readers are generally smart and well-mannered.

Do you ever receive abusive comments and how do you handle it?
I haven’t yet – there are those who advise, or disagree with a course of action, but no-one (knock wood) has been nasty or abusive. Things like that hurt me, though, so I’m sure when it does happen I’ll delete, then go lie down. The illusion is that people know me by what I write, and I am extremely personal, but when it comes right down to it, they really don’t know me personally, and how wounding can blind spite really be? God has already punished them; they have to be themselves.

Where do you find interesting links?
In the other blogs I read, by listening to public radio, and that my friends and readers send along.

Do you ever write to provoke a reaction and how do you do that?
My sweet post about rediscovering my relationship with Lover drew no comments, but the piece that agonized about saying no to a particular client drew many comments and a personal conversation with a reader with strong advice, as well as chat with Lover in real life. So trauma draws people online as well as off. That said, I can only write what really happens – sometimes it stirs something in people wrestling with a similar issue, compels them to respond. I’m not deliberately “stirring things up” but I am dramatically constructing my narratives to evoke the strongest possible response.

How much traffic do you get?
Over eighty-three thousand unique hits since February 2007.

What is your rank on technorati?
Around twenty-two thousand.

Has your writing changed since you started blogging?
Yes – more often, more of it, and the style is shaping itself. Non-fiction is definitely my favorite.

How many hours do you spend online a day?
Far too many! I try for about three but it’s often five to seven. Research, email, and blogging start to add up. I’m thankful to have friends to go to the gym with and an active “real life” job.

How much time do you spend on your site a day?
Not more than an hour – scan the blogs on the roll, post something, that’s about it. Sometimes add some buttons or join a blogging resource. I write in a notebook that carries with me, transcribe and refine in Word and copy-paste.

How many blogs do you read?
I scan 30-50 and I care about 5.

How do you find new blogs?
Recommendations from others I read, links, and Googling on topics of interest.
How much reader email do you get?
Enough to make me feel special but not overwhelmed!

What do you think makes a successful blog?
Foremost, a unique style that suits, supports and enhances the material. It’s how, not what is told. Frequent, well-written content relating to a subject of greater interest than just “this is my life,” and an awareness of context. Like academic writing, you must demonstrate a grasp of the existing views and beliefs for your challenges or expansions to be taken seriously. As an example of a light-hearted blog that is nonetheless rigorous in background and research, The Fug Girls ( are not just writing catty opinions, they know what’s going on in the socialite, entertainment and music worlds, they know what the fashions of the season are, they have an overall grasp of historical standards of taste and decency, and that’s what makes them hilariously clever instead of just a couple of bitches badmouthing things they personally don’t like.

What is your advice for a new blogger?
Write about things you really care about. But to make your personal crappy-crap relevant to the readers, take in information from your favorite sources and make notes about how to use it to round out your own ideas or as a starter for your own responses to a topic or idea. Connect your family life or your sex life or your creative life to ideas about the world, so that your personal experience becomes the illustration rather than the point.

Audit a creative writing class at your local college to experience reading and listening to other writers and thinking critically about what works. It’s easier to pick out a problem and say, “Ohhh! That’s why that doesn’t work and here’s how to fix it!” on early-career writers than with published, successful material. It’s also good to get feedback on your own writing style and abilities. Sometimes the criticism is useful in unexpected ways – my pieces always got marked up by other students who thought I wrote run-on sentences. I do. On purpose. And hearing their feedback helped me realize that and use long phrasings better and more deliberately as a stylistic choice.

Write more than one draft – don’t write directly to your blog or it will be sloppy and possibly a poor choice. Unless it’s your style to use poor spelling and grammar (and very few people can pull that off), use good English and look up words you can’t spell. It distracts the reader from your point and diminishes the authority of your words every time there is an error of language. Use a thesaurus to expand your vocabulary and give variety to your work, as long as they still sound like your words! Which is a larger point – the more you expand your own knowledge and understanding, the more range your writing will have while still being genuinely “you.”

How has blogging changed your life?
Writing a really good post makes me feel good, and especially when I save up to write later in the day, it’s something to look forward to. I’ve also met some very interesting people, on and off line. The biggest element is that I now am often writing my life in my head as I experience it, and that’s sometimes great and sometimes a little terrifying.

What blogs do you think deserve wider recognition and why?
Mine. Because I’m a fucking brilliant writer on my good days and not a waste of time on the bad days.

(This is where I’m supposed to be all sweet and link to my friends – check them out at my blogroll).
Personal favorite posts on How About Now? are here (, here (, and here

What are your hobbies?
Reading, languages, and I adore cooking very traditional meat-and-two-veg meals. You should see me in my pearls and apron…

How has your blog changed over the years?
It’s only been 6 months, but I got distinctly more literary around the middle of February, and have since tried to balance reportage and writing. My best posts are when a metaphor that I can really play with pops into the writing. It usually comes about a third of the way in and then I go back and revise with it in mind.

Are you fairly accurate in predicting which of your items will be widely linked?
I don’t even think about it – I like submitting to Sugasm ( and that’s brought me a lot of readers as well as turning me on to blogs I wouldn’t have come across, but I’m more about the regular readers than big traffic to a single post.

Do you have a background in writing?
Yes. I have a terminal degree in my field and I’m published in a couple of other genres. Until I was in high school, I hated the physical act of writing, it hurt my hand, though I won prizes for stories and essays. Then I got into poetry and fiction and started enjoying it. I didn’t discover non-fiction until graduate school, and it was a huge realization – oh, that’s what my travel notebooks are! I continue to write professionally in addition to my other pursuits.

When do you blog?
Ideas get jotted in my constant notebook, or on the backs of receipts if I’m (rarely) out without one. I tend to formulate phrasings and the scope of a piece in my head while driving or doing work around the house, and then I compose the pieces in the morning, sitting in my library in my jammies with unbrushed teeth (very important) or in the evenings on my porch seat, ducking moths as it gets darker. My husband doesn’t read the blog, so it’s important to not shove it down his throat when I’m writing.

With regard to blogging what was your most memorable moment?
The first time I was with a client and I detached myself from the situation to write it in my head as it was happening.

Would you read your site?
Damn straight. One of my reasons for starting was that it is the kind of thing I like to read, and Belle de Jour doesn’t post a lot lately.

Thank you – what thought-provoking questions, especially about the writing process!


Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Not Worth Doing Unless Done Well

Planning my next meeting with Tourist:

White stockings and garter belt
Nurse smock with zip front
Nurse skirt hemmed above the knee
Nurse hat
Horn-rim glasses
Clipboard and pen
Medical forms with increasingly personal questions
White heeled shoes
Wrist restraints – blood pressure cuffs?
Patient gown
Tongue depressor
Access to rented medical office with examination table, counter, sink, etc.
“Secretary” to register “patient”

And that’s why your whore wants a deposit.

Monday, June 4, 2007


Another city. Another hotel. This one with a wide, lobby-like area on our floor, pleasant maybe later for lounging or fucking on a chaise.

Lover loves OCD, I hang clothes in the closet, set shoes in a line, refold two shirts in my suitcase and pose like a pinup as I tuck them back in the row, bent at the hips, chest up, rear up.

“Do that again,” smiling. I do, and he comes behind me, I press into him as I press down the shirt. Suitcase goes by the closet, lid open, on the rack, bath stuff in the bathroom, sex toys in the bedside table drawer. Lover picks up the paper, special section of portraits and stats. “There are some homely women in the Indy 500.”

I come over to look. Danica Patrick needs more makeup, and Milka Duno is working it too hard hair in her face, she looks unprofessional. But the guys are no great shakes either, closer to a set of trim Jason Alexanders and British authors who dutifully belong to health clubs than dashing guys named Andretti should look.

Lover pulls me to him, holds me, kisses my neck, my hair. “Which bed is yours?” “That’s the one I’m sleeping in and that’s the one I’m fucking you on.” He pulls me down onto the bed, on top of him. My white linen skirt (I admired the demure knee-length in my reflection in the doors on the way in) rides up. I touch his chest, he holds my hips. We kiss, lightly and then less lightly. He reaches up beneath my skirt, beneath my soft t-shirt, holds my breasts in his hand. Off comes the shirt, over my head to beside him on the bed. We’re on top of the bedspread. Covered in hooker juice, no doubt. I realize too late that this is what I set up with clients, one bed pristine and one for spoilage. I think to say, “But maybe I’ll sleep here anyway,” but I don’t.

“Take me from behind.” “You want that a lot lately.” I do, because I’m in the habit – that’s the position you come the quickest in. They come the quickest in. He’s in me, I miss seeing his face, the little head duck, the sudden gratified delight when he finds himself there. It’s good, it hurts, it’s fine. He still has all his clothes, I’m naked but for thong panties pulled to the side, light blue cotton. I can feel the zipper bump me each time.

He wants me on top, I straddle him and ride, distant tremors coming closer. He pinches my left nipple, hard, the way that focuses me purely and tightly on this moment, this place, this feeling. Release. Pinch again. I ask for it, drawing closer, and I come in a haze of gentle sparks.

Afterwards, I’m close to tears, which is not uncommon, but I look down at him, gentle face, dark hair, light eyes, and the thought flashes, Our days are numbered.

I’m still jerking every time he touches me, sensitive to shock and movement. His turn, and the terrible crushing feeling of obligation, I want so bad to ask him to leave and I don’t even know why, but it’s so terribly selfish (I think) to come and not return the favor, I must, I must, I don’t know what it is but I have to…

Onward. Over him. Pausing for a minute to close my eyes and wish the tears back in their ducts, I’ve always been an easy cry, voice exercises that loosen the sinus resonator are Kleenex days for me, snot and salt everywhere. I wish you knew what was going on because I sure don’t. I wish I could put my clothes on and tell you to go. He says, “You have such a cute expression on your face – so uncertain.” The unintentional irony is a wall of water, this man who knows me almost-best, loves me almost-best, hurts me only in the ways I beg for, so good at watching for my edge, has no perception in this moment.

More. I sit up and back. “Raise your hands above your head.” I do, one hand half-holding the other wrist. He slaps my left breast, brushing across my tender nipple. Physically, it’s wonderful, shock and pain and yet it’s the intention and not the blow that stings. Mentally, I’m nowhere, the best part of D/s, I’m here. Again, and I flinch. My arms draw down and he tells me to put them back up again. Again he strikes, his eyes wide, his breath faster, too. I wonder why he doesn’t make me raise them higher, make me more his. Last one, that’s it, that’s all I can do. I curl down into his arms and he pats me and soothes me, knowing that for me, this is always what I want afterwards.

And then the tears come for real, I keep my eyes closed, I want this client to leave, I want to know why I fantasized about my husband right before I came, I want to know why the combination of stubble against my breast and coming and being fucked from behind is dirt under my nails, the cat refusing to use the box, waitressing when I’m not old enough to serve, being scolded by a boss.

“I need to go blow my nose.” And there I am in the bathroom, red nose, red nipples, eyes working towards unpretty. Blow, flush, snap out the light and back to bed. Got to give them their money’s worth.

He does, not much later, notice. “What are you thinking?” “I’m not thinking. I’m writing this in my head so that I won’t be thinking.” “I’m not sure that answer makes me happy.” I can’t tell him what is so terribly wrong, in part because I do not know.

He rubs my back. I tell him as much as I can. “Do you want to take a nap, or put our clothes on and go for a walk? Is there anything I can do?”

I need to write it out. We toss the bedspread on the floor. He curls into the sheets, curls around me and sleeps while I write.

Wake, Lover. Wake and read.

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Friday, June 1, 2007

My Mother. Oh, My Mother…

I get a forwarded email from my mother. She got it from her friend Racist Homophobette (who hasn’t yet figured out why her oldest son is unmarried at 45 and doesn’t date).

It purports to be a screed by Andy Rooney. It’s not – Rooney’s quoted on Snopes saying he’d like to sue whoever started this nasty, racist piece as he feels it’s damaged his name.

The gist: why can’t white people have things for themselves if black people have special things like magazines and TV networks – isn’t that reverse racism? Followed hard upon by no girls in the Boy Scouts, guns don’t kill people people kill people, homosexuality is bad, why don’t those immigrants speak English and why do they get any social services, tattoos and piercings are bad (it’s pretty wide-ranging) and wraps up with, “since 86% of Americans believe in God” (which one?) we should tell the other 14% to “shut up and be quiet.” It concludes with “If you agree, forward this, if you don’t, delete.” Ah yes – speak up and be heard, unless you disagree, in which case shut up and be quiet.

And me, I can’t let it lie.

I address the misapplication of non-specific pseudo-statistics, point out that my brother is gay and my friends (I avoid the words ‘lovers’ and ‘clients’, tee hee) are black, mention that I’ve been beaten (briefly) by cops so maybe they’re not always right, and ask if Andy Rooney really said this, or did someone else throw his name on it and start sending it around?

I get personal:

…naming a majority as a reason for rightness reminds me of "well, all my friends are doing it..." …I'm a little embarrassed that my mother, who taught me to stand up for what is right instead of what is convenient and popular, would send me this…Up to you whether you forward this back to Racist Homophobette.

I, of course, cc it to all the family members my mother cc’d it to.

My brother points out it’s not Andy Rooney. My aunt replies back that it doesn’t matter who wrote it, it’s their opinion, “some valid points, some invalid.”

And you know, it occurs to me that it does matter who wrote it. If it's a
public figure, we weight their words more heavily than if it's just some internet nobody taking advantage of not having to spend money to spread around their words. Would Homophobette have sent it to all her friends if it was from Joe Blow she'd never heard of?

My mother is from a generation where the internet is a way to do business and a fun toy, but I get most of my news and information in this way. It personally benefits me to call people on lies, misrepresentations, and lack of accuracy in the emails they forward to all their friends, because I'd rather have an internet that's more of a library and less of a bathroom wall.

More importantly, it matters who forwards it. Would my mother – or even her friend – write in a public newspaper, with their name attached, the same sentiments? It’s safer to mass-forward an email supposedly written by a funny columnist without thinking very much about the subtle hate speech involved. When you forward an email, you endorse what it says. In this case, explicitly, as per the last line of the email. I'm not comfortable letting my family think I'm willing to go along with gay-bashing, immigrant-bashing, and racism, and "just delete."

I write to my aunt (cc-ing to everyone, why withhold the potential for family drama?)

…casual hate speech is worse than deliberate hate speech, because we take it in without thinking when it comes in a funny email instead of from a guy in a white hood. Maybe I'm one of the horrible PC people the original writer alludes to - but if he had the guts to sign his real name and stand up for what he believes, his polemic would carry a lot more weight.

Which leads me to think, am I the pot? You are, after all, reading an anonymous blog. But there is a difference, not only in that I am not claiming to be someone more important or more established to give weight to my opinions, but also that I have a persona you can use for context. You may not know Mandy, but you know “Mandy”, and she accepts comments, answers emails, and engages in dialogue when people disagree.

Feel free to forward...the name is Mandy Muse.