is sex for your brain -
A new visitor to the message Boards asks Various questions about the BDSM-lifestyle and Cowhideman offers an in-depth, multi-part answer, from pansexual and gay perspectives. Fabulous reading for all.
I have no first hand knowledge of the BDSM-lifestyle, but I am nonetheless interested in it and also in the dynamics of the relationships. So after reading different books about it I want to include some sides of it as a subplot in one of my own stories (yes, I do write from time to time and I am hoping to get something published sooner or later).
But since I don’t know which facts are real and which are just fictional I decided to ask the people (you) who can maybe answer some of the most important questions I have.
If you'd like to cast a little cheer into the life of a serviceman, visit Let's Say Thanks, a site sponsored by Xerox which allows you to pick out and sign a card designed by children throughout the US. Don't worry about being too late for Thanksgiving or too early for Christmas: Xerox delivers these in monthly batch to our men and women overseas, along with various goodies. It's a great idea that helps keep our soldiers' morale up, and will only take you a couple of minutes (they even offer a selection of messages if you aren't feeling creative enough to create your own).
We had quite the little windstorm here yesterday morning. I half expected to see a witch on a bicycle fly by the window. Every time a branch fell with a crashing thud, the dogs went crazy, convinced there was a predator at the door. Like an alarm clock set to snooze, they shrieked out howls every 5-10 minutes. (Those high-pitched yelps that come from the throats of small dogs are as grating on the nerves as chalk squealing on a chalkboard.)
I had back-to-back appointments yesterday but around noon I had enough of a break to catch up on fish-tank maintenance, and was doing a water exchange in all three tanks. Noting that one of the filters was sluggish, I figured it was time to take it apart and clean it, so I unplugged it from the baroque agglomeration of wires, boxes and plugs, just hoping I would remember what went where and wouldn't clumsily deconstruct Will's purposeful web of cords. Deft as I am with a cane, I'm really the world's biggest klutz when it comes to, well, just about everything else.
I finished squeezing out fish poo from the tank filter (where is Mike Rowe when I need him?), reassembled the box, finished topping off the tanks, and finally replugged things. To my dismay, the tanks sputtered, the lights blinked on and off, and the filters died. Fuck. I got down on my knees to stare sorrowfully at the cords, wondering what I'd done wrong, even as the dogs howled for the nth time.
Sighing, I followed them to the front door, opened it and pointed out that there wasn't a fucking thing going on beyond a whole lot of wind: no deer to chase nor squirrels to bully, not even a cat scratching to come in. I challenged them to go out and see for themselves, but they took one look at leaves catapaulting through the air and gave me that look that small-dog-owners know so well, that "holy crap, you don't expect delicate little ME to go out in that mess, do you?" look.
I went back upstairs to find the tanks were fine, bubbling happily, but relief was brief: they sputtered off again. Huh? Then sputtered on, then sputtered off, and then suddenly the whole house seemed strangely quiet. Uh oh.
When you live in a house in the woods, you are all too familiar with the sound of electrical nothingness. An electrical storm, heavy rain or, as happened yesterday, some feisty winds, and you can almost count on a black out. Power poles fall (or drunk drivers skid into them and plow them down), and transformers blow. So it wasn't my electrical ineptitude at all: a local transformer had cycled 3 times and surrendered.
No lights, no heat, no phone. But happily a cell fully charged. I called the power company, and was immediately routed to their automated system, where I punched in the info to report an outtage. Called back a few minutes later to see if they could give me an estimate on when it would be repaired, and couldn't even get through. Apparently all my neighbors were calling in too.
I called my next appointment to warn her we might not HAVE an appointment.
Did I mention I live in the woods? When the power goes here, a strange magic moves in. The chorus of low hums from the dozens of appliances and gadgets that keep us connected to the 21st century comes to a sudden hush, and the forest's song rises. One minute you're an Internet-surfing, Napster-listening, capuccino-drinking modernist in a climate-controlled home: the next, you are a 19th century Southern farmer, listening to cattle lowing over in your neighbor's fields and checking the woodpile to see if you've got enough to keep the fireplace filled tonight.
Though I was vastly relieved when power was restored a mere 20 minutes later, there's something about a power failure in the woods. You go off the grid. You are conscious of fundamental aloneness. The outside world goes away. The things that men have built lie down and the things of God stand up. The turning leaves aren't powered by electricity. You feel your existential insignificance as nature flaunts its healthy, fulsomely independent system at you. I imagine that more than a few tiny critters were displaced by the powerful gusts that blew them from one acre to another, but no matter: they were light enough to fly on the winds, carried violently but not shattered as a human would be. When the world goes away and it's just you and the natural world, you feel an exquisitely profound humility.
Fresh from my email, this call for nominations by the National Leather Association for its 2008 writing awards.
may be sent to the committee chair, Steve Vakesh, at: email@example.com.
A variety of erotic cabinet cards, all dated ca. 1890.
I've been seeing dribs and drabs of publicity for this movie which sounds like an absolute must-see if
OMG, this movie appears to have it all: a tragic story of immense psychological suffering, with giant doses of sexual perversion (watching Dafoe force Goldblum to be his pet dog is bound to be a memorable cinematic experience).
Nearly 15 years after the release of “Schindler’s List” the Holocaust continues to figure prominently as a subject for the movies. The latest one, which had its official premiere at the recent Toronto International Film Festival, after a sneak peek at the prestigious Telluride film festival, is “Adam Resurrected.”
The film, a drama set in the early 1960s, centers on Holocaust survivor Adam Stein (Jeff Goldblum), once a beloved clown-magician in pre-war Berlin, now struggling to overcome his demons while housed in an Israeli mental hospital for traumatized survivors.
Unlike other cinematic mental patients in classic movies, such as “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” Stein isn’t up against a cruel, inhumane system. The doctors in the asylum, for the most part, are supportive of his idiosyncrasies, which include hiding bottles of liquor for regular consumption. They also look the other way as he engages in a mildly sadomasochistic sexual relationship with the institute’s head nurse, played by Israeli actress Ayelet Zurer. No, Stein’s main obstacles to regaining good health are his horrific memories, notably the hideous reality that he survived the war by acting, literally, as the pet of the commandant of a concentration camp (Willem Dafoe) in the vain hope that by debasing himself, he could save the lives of his family.
Watch a clip of the movie:
And if you can't get enough Goldblum, here's an interview with him about the film.
To me, he's gotten sexier with age. Check out the long lean legs on this Hollywood icon. Oh, Jeffie, I'd gladly comfort you by licking those kosher sticks from toe to thigh.
Over at MSNBC.com, sex columnist Brian Alexander tackles topics most mainstream journalists are too chickenshit to touch. Here Alexander offers some advice on visiting a professional dominatrix.
Q: Paying for sex is illegal in most of America, but what about paying for fetish services? Can you legally hire a dominatrix or escort for any of the countless things besides intercourse? Where is the line drawn?
A: If you have a hankering to strap on a codpiece and pay a woman for the privilege of scrubbing her floors while she drips hot wax on your back, the legal line is drawn at the border of the state or country in which you live.
If you need a laugh today, check out this satire by Michael Swaim at Cracked.com. The subject (Craigslist's new fee policy) isn't funny but Swaim is hilarious. So too are the multitude of faux personal ads posted by various commenters. Highly recommended, start to finish.
When did it happen, America? When did we become the police state that we’ve always feared, that thousands of brave men and women laid down their lives to try and banish from existence?
As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Craigslist will henceforth be charging a fee and requiring credit card validation for any posts in the “erotic services” section.
At this point I’d usually say something like “well, fuck me,” but I’m afraid THE MAN would want my PIN number first.
Would be awfully interesting if this trend caught on in the US. What I'd really love to know is whether the bras really are specific to male physique, i.e., with a special cut to accommodate broader backs and bigger shoulders. It would be a total rip-off if it was just a typical female bra that is being marketed to men without any particular differences in style/cut. If you've bought one, let us know what you think.
A Japanese online lingerie retailer is selling bras for cross-dressing men and they've quickly become one of its most popular items. Since launching two weeks ago on Rakuten, a major Japanese web shopping mall, the Wishroom shop has sold over 300 men's bras for 2,800 yen ($30) each. The shop also stocks men's panties, as well as lingerie for women.
My multi-talented (agent/producer/film-maker/mom/animal lover/gardener) niece, Aine Leicht has built a career as a horror diva. She recently worked (produced it! yeah!) on a hilarious indie film, which she describes as "a surrealistic tale of unrequited love."
Here's the trailer for the movie, Erection, a film by Creep Creepersin. (And yep, Aunt Gloria is super proud of her...so proud I must share it with you guys.)
Yes, boys and girls, it's time for your weekly dose of utter absurdity. As in, WTF?
Could this be a new and unique fetish? Or --great God almighty-- is there already a website and chat area devoted to this one? Only the Internet knows.
Police have arrested a man suspected of leaving greasy, graphic imprints on the windows of stores, churches and schools in a small Nebraska town. A 35-year-old man was caught in the act by police early Wednesday morning, Cherry County Attorney Eric Scott said Friday. The man hasn't been charged yet, but authorities believe he is the vandal some townsfolk have dubbed the "Butt Bandit." Beginning in spring of 2007, a mystery vandal visited businesses at night, pressing his naked behind — sometimes his groin, sometimes both — on windows. The marks were made with lotion or petroleum jelly, and while police had earlier worried copycat criminals were getting involved, Scott said they now believe it's "the act of a lone deviant."
Just saw Carter Oosterhouse doing an ad and have no idea what he was saying because I couldn't stop staring at him. O.M.G. Obviously I'm waaay behind on home improvements. Thanks to my grrrl ketzl for googling some ogle-icious Oosterhouse imagery and finding some happy news for hetfems: he's straight!
Keep your hands off him, ladies: I lusted after him first. :)
Can't decide whether this is a pair of female wrestlers or a mean Mistress forcing her sub into rough sex. Either way, 60s porn always looks grim to me, with harsh lighting that makes the models seem tubercular and rooms straight out of a flophouse. On the other hand, there are probably some connoisseurs who can't get enough of girls in mismatched underwear and cheap wigs. Meanwhile, the action actually looks real, so props to the photog for immortalizing these minxes at play.
So if this is an art mag, intended to teach you how to photograph nudes, why is the sex kitten on the cover dressed in lingerie, giving you a sultry look? Oh, yeah, it was the fabulous 50s when showing more than lingerie got you banned from the newsstand. Wait a minute...it still does!
One wonders what market niche the publishers targeted: amateur photogs who wanted to shoot porn? I'll bet a chunk of the market were fetishists drawn by those long slim limbs in fishnets.
Health authorities in Spain Wednesday expressed outrage over a raffle being organised by a nightclub in which the prize is breast enlargement surgery.
The raffle, called "Pretty Woman," is to take place at the Pacha discotheque in the Mediterranean city of Valencia on December 5. Tickets cost 20 euros (25 dollars) and the prize is worth 4,500 euros.
I'm feeling all list-y today. You ever been there or is this just another one of my (aherm, cough cough) "charming" eccentricities?
Anyway, here is a short list off the top of my head about what I think are some differences between femdoms as portrayed in fantasies, and femdoms who live the life. While femdoms comes in all sizes, shapes, colors, and have different interests/kinks/fetishes etc., there are still a handful of characteristics that I think distinguish real ones from ones who only play the role.
YMMV, of course, so feel free to have a cow over my POV. That's why Typepad gives us a comments box.
As I see it, women who are genuinely dominant....
Even as sex activists attempt to push back against government censorship, another group of sex-lovers Down Under are hosting a "month-long, nude anything-goes party" in Queensland -- all in the interest of stimulating the, er, economy. Who wants to go? (raising hand)
"Tough economic times call for stiff measures," Tony Fox, the owner of the White Cockatoo resort in Mossman, in tropical Queensland state, told the Courier-Mail newspaper.
"It will be a hedonism resort, where anything goes for a month. It doesn't take rocket science to work out what it means," Fox said, naming March as the risque party month.
Sex party set to heat up Australian politics
SYDNEY (AFP) – Australia is about to get a new entry into national politics -- a party devoted to sex.
The brains behind the Australian Sex Party, which will be launched in Melbourne on Thursday, believe that politics has become too stuffy and conservative Down Under.
Describing itself as "serious about sex" the party sees itself as a political response to the sexual needs of Australians in the face of moral campaigners and prudish politicians.
Party convenor Fiona Patten, who is head of the national adult retail and entertainment lobby group the Eros Association, said the trigger had been the government's decision to place a mandatory filter on the Internet.
Under the plan, designed to shield children from online porn and violence, Internet service providers will have to filter out pornography and other material deemed inappropriate in their feeds to houses and schools.
If you're as stressed out as, well, just about everyone else seems to be, over the economy, and the new president, and the environment, and the wars and everything else, you may be going through some shaky days. Here are five tips from me to you on how to keep your head from exploding.
Might sound strange to you, but as a therapist, it sure seems to me that the number one cause of emotional stress for most people is when they carry around burdensome secrets. Those little secrets (whether it's some funds you filched, someone you fucked when you shouldn't have, your weight, your regret, or your pain) can eat away at your core personality like acid on paper. You need to let it out before there's nothing left. Find someone you trust or talk to a stranger you'll never see again; you can even write it down and post it somewhere anonymously. Let it go or you will never be able to move on.
Are you losing sleep, eating stupidly, partying too much, chewing your fingers, avoiding friends, fighting with everyone? STOP. When people feel insecure and frightened, they start taking it out on themselves and create new reasons to feel like shit. It's a masochistic cannibalistic train-ride to oblivion. Learn to recognize your own special little ways of self-destructing and keep them under control. Put yourself on a schedule, a diet, a discipline. If you can't do it alone, ask for help.
One of the hallmarks of mental breakdown is a deteriorating sense of humor. You have to laugh to keep going. Literally. Turn to any favorite sources, whether it's comics and cartoons or painfully dumb sitcoms/movies that nonetheless make you guffaw. Learn some new jokes and share laughter with others. Dress your partner up as different whimsical woodland animals. Whatever. Just make sure you have at least a couple of good laughs every day.
Regular orgasms keep the mind and body bouncy and relieve underlying stress. Contrary to popular belief, waiting to feel overwhelmed by tension and need to come is not the only or even optimal time to climax. If I ruled the world, I'd educate people to treat it as a routine part of body maintenance, like shaving your legs or brushing your teeth. If you've never tried to have at least one orgasm a day, you probably don't know what you're missing. Nothing, literally nothing, beats stress like orgasms. Partners are optional.
If you could walk away from your life right now, you just might. But you can't, so you feel a little trapped and a lot stressed. So do what I do: go away, into your mind. Take five or ten minutes out of your day, any time you feel overwhelmed, and close your eyes. Visualize where you want to be: a beach, a mountaintop, a park. It's exquisite. It's exactly where you want to be. You can float. You can climb. You can fly. It's your world. Build a paradise in your mind, and occupy it at least five minutes a day. It's the cheapest, greenest and most relaxing vacation you'll ever take.
Why bother saying anything when Sir Walter Scott said it all:
Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive.
A woman is to divorce her husband after discovering he was having a virtual affair within the online game "Second Life," newspapers reported Friday.
Amy Taylor, 28, met her husband David Pollard within the game in May 2003, and six months later, she moved into his home in Cornwall.
The couple married in July 2005, while their "Second Life" avatars Dave Barmy and Laura Skye -- younger, slimmer versions of their real-life selves -- also held an online ceremony for their virtual friends.
After a rare break from the computer, however, Taylor returned to find her 40-year-old husband in an intimate, albeit virtual, position with an online prostitute within "Second Life", which she said was the "ultimate betrayal".
OK...but.... In the man's defense....did he promise that he'd give up what was, apparently, one of his favorite hobbies once they married? Did they negotiate hard and fast rules about how much on-line flirting was acceptable?
These are things I'd like to know because I am of the (strong) opinion that the line between fantasy and reality on the Internet is much too blurry for any absolute truths on how much on-line fantasy play is ethical in an otherwise-monogramous relationships. By now, we all know that one person's harmless cybersex fantasy is another's heart-breaking adultery. Some spouses could care less; some spouses think even a flirtation qualifies as an affair. The only fair parameters are the ones you, as partners, set for yourself, according to your own needs and tolerances.
Meanwhile, it's not like she met him at the grocery store and was unaware of his cybersex interests until after the honeymoon. She knew from the start that he was a cybersex-loving geek. So is it really fair to meet someone on-line, in a fantasy context, where you are both clearly so engaged in the fantasy that, in your case, you personally transform it into reality -- and then blame your partner when he continues to enjoy his pre-marriage hobby? Or more precisely: why do people think their partners will change stripes when they marry them? Who does she expect him to be now? A guy who sits in front of the tv all day watching football?
Girls who want to be boys may seem like an all-new phenomenon to the unschooled but perhaps this trio of vintage photos, all produced between 1900-1910, will make the point that when it comes to sexuality, there is really nothing new under the sun. Lovely, romantic images (the first two especially are beautifully staged and hand-tinted). They say so much yet leave lots to the imagination. Interestingly, they were done by different French studios, suggesting that there was a strong coterie audience for female-to-male erotic fantasies in late 19th and early 20th century Europe.
So, what happened to all these glorious images of mannish women and playful, amorous lesbians?
My informed guess is that we can blame Paragraph 175. Its threat remotely hovered over the erotica industry when these photos were taken. But when the Nazis revised that hideous legislation in the 1930s, acts and depictions of homosexuality landed people in Concentration Camps.
Don't you just hate Nazis?
Also on eBay right now, a series of fascinating postcards showing semi-nude female wrestlers, ca. 1900 (!). Apparently a novelty act that lit up some Paris stages, these two fighting females must've made quite an impact with their moves. Just snagged two to share here, so click the link (after the pix) to see more in the seller's store.
For all you fans of the fabulous lady, original art with a lesbian twist by artist/cartoonist Clay Sheff, on eBay now.
Looks like we're all done with blog formatting and tweaking, folks. In addition to the cleaner, cooler new design, I'm hoping you'll find all the pages here (front page and archives pages) are faster to load. If anyone's having trouble with the design or would like to suggest any final tweaks, now's the time so please let me know.