I didn’t get out of the Fillmore last night until around 1am. The entire band, and David, and David’s band had left, and I counted out the merchandise with the Fillmore staff, finally exchanging hugs with the big, mean security guards on my way out — they nicknamed me “baby-doll.” When I finally made it to the after party, I was beat from three nights of 7-hour work for the band, gallons of beer, and gleefully dancing until I was sore (every chance I got). I walked into the party, famished, exhausted and thirsty, and all the food and beer was gone. A man was opening a bottle of wine at a table, so I sidled up to him. He turned, looked in my eyes, and smiled, just smiled. We’d seen each other and exchanged smiles many times over the past few days, and finally we were saying hi. I grinned and said, “Hi, I’m Violet.” He popped the wine bottle, took my hand, and said, “Hi, I’m David.” Later, the band played, we all danced, and I got home at around 5am.

I loved every minute of working for Extra Action, even when a waitress dumped an entire large-sized gin and tonic on me last night (it was cold; soaked my shirt, skirt, left shoe, and my hoodie that was on the ground). And even when I got kicked out of the empty VIP seating area. I made it to my horrendous book deadline last tuesday, for the really, really incredible Best Sex Writing 2005, which happened to be the same day as Horboy’s birthday. The book is an astounding collection of bizarre-but-true tales from journalists and writers about collisions between sex and life (examples: a woman who works in a sperm bank writes about sucking off guys in the sample rooms and the insane staff, a woman spends 24 hours in an all-prostitute Mexican town, Carly Milne illustrates the collision between porn life and “normal” life, etc.). But I shut myself off from the world to edit, and edit and edit, and once I was done, I just wanted to completely lose myself — and how perfect to find a way to work for Extra Action for a really big gig.

David Byrne actually contacted them a while ago, but even though i was excited beyond myself, and Hornboy was coming home with music to Burning Down the House that David had sent, I was expressly forbidden from letting the cat out of the bag. Apparently this was a very, very small tour for Byrne (New Zealand, Australia and here in SF), and he contacted the band to play with him for his only American show — and no one else, just Extra Action. Which is so fucking cool. And I could tell how much he loves the band, besides the fact that he danced and drank until 4am with all of us last night. At each show he’d play for two hours — lots of Talking Heads songs — and then introduce EA, and he’d sort of hide offstage and watch them play. Then he’d come on and play Don’t Fence Me In with the drummers, and then everyone would play Burning Down the House. But then EA would take over the stage and audience (don’t forget there’s 40 of them), and David would stand in the back by himself and watch and dance the whole time, every night, clapping and smiling with a big, open-mouthed smile like a shiny happy little kid in a big angly body. But last night the flag girls (and boys) had had enough, and they pulled him onstage and gave him pom-poms, and danced with him, ran him around the stage, crawled all over him — it was one of the most joyful things I’ve ever seen.

I didn’t get any pictures (these are by Biata). Thursday night someone got their camera confiscated, and the Fillmore staff was really watching last night, and I didn’t have a photo pass (next time I have to pose as press or something), so I just danced and enjoyed myself instead. And while I considered it, I didn’t snap any pics of David at the after party because, well, it just didn’t feel right. We were there to have fun and relax.

Back to reality, whatever that means. I’m doing my best to stay unemployed, but I’ve been getting some seriously juicy offers since I quit my day job. I also quit a freelance job — part of the blow-up doll copy writing gig — because that kind of writing is fun for like a minute, and the bosses are so disorganized and high stress that it just takes the joy out of describing satisfying love holes. Because deep down I believe in my heart of hearts that when there are three holes, I should just be feeling, seeing and smelling the love, and feel like I’m making the world a better place with the J-Ho Love Doll, not delivering landfill unto the world at a breakneck speed.

Okay, I’m tired and digressing. Time for hair of the dog before I have to face the ten million deadlines I have Monday — a piece for Playgirl, a book jacket quote for a new Alison Tyler book, a piece for a New York lit journal about public sex. I know there’s more; I’m in post-party denial. But I’m excited about a few near-future things that materialized for me this week. For sure and SRL show in April at an undisclosed location — let’s just hope the volunteers can keep their mouths shut and not blab to their friends so we can keep it secret long enough to actually pull it off. And my super-happy news: I’ve been asked to speak at Dorkbot SF again! I’ll be giving a lecture/demonstration on Teledildonics on March 23! W00t!

* here’s last night’s entry: I fell asleep waiting for video to upload!

It’s about 2am and I need to go to bed — I’ve been up to a lot of mischief, but I just want to share a few tidbits with you before going to bed. I will explain later — first, at 5pm I walked into the Fillmore auditorium this afternoon and walked into this (small video); then it magically became this (long video). Yes, that’s David Byrne and the Extra Action Marching Band. Later, it looked like this (short video — ran out of memory). I know, I know about the quality, but no cameras were allowed and I wasn’t even supposed to be there. Although I was stoked to be working for the band, and when I told a few horn players that I walked out of GV, they told me the Marching Band should have played and marched me on outtta there…!

Sleep now, then lots of fun news and cool stuff going on. Book deadline survived, Hornboy’s birthday celebrated, I finally slept in like a good unemployed person, more soon.

Mark emailed me this morning about Thompson, and SRL shows:

>We already did that. It was delusions of expediency show in 1987. HT
>came to the shop and show and the Mitchell Bros shot several scenes
>of him… (comment witheld) and running machines. They also used footage
>from the show of him watching and commenting.

Update: More form Mark, “BTW the name of the doc is “The Crazy Never Die”, Produced
>edited and directed by the mitchell bros.”

“Some may never live, but the crazy never die.” Hunter S. Thompson, quotes.

Holy shit — I just found out over the SRL wires, Hunter S. Thompson shot himself, and is now dead. Perhaps our next show will be a la Fear and Loathing. Goodbye, uncle gonzo.

I sidetracked myself from editing for a minute and checked on one of my favorite-est porn S/M filmmakers, Maria Beatty — and I’m tickled to see that she has a new film out that turns me on just to think about it. I must get my hands on a copy of Ecstasy in Berlin 1926.

In case you’ve wondered why I’m so quiet this week, I’m on a rough deadline for this book. Yahoo! dumped all my contacts and I’m desperate to get in touch with an author named Michael A. Gonzales. Michael, please get in touch with me so I can publish your piece! I don’t have much time left. If anyone reading this knows how to contact this author, email me as soon as possible at violet @ tinynibbles.com

If you’ve never tried adding lubrication for sex, I insist that you do so immediately. Now. In your cubicle, or wherever you’re reading this. I know that everyone within a 10-mile radius of San Francisco is thinking right now, “Sex sans lube? Barbaric!” But seriously, I really need to make a point out of this — sex is great without it (mmm, friction), but it’s slippery and slick and yummy and Nirvana-achieving when you use lube.

There are a couple reasons I’m bringing this up. One reason is that if you rubbed your mouse ever-so-carefully over the sensitive bits of my blog today, you’ll notice, well, that she’s a bit more excitable now. Eager, if you will. That’s because we’ve gone all RSS/atom on you. That’s right, now the title of each entry is a true permalink, and you can subscribe to my blog with the atom feed up above. The incredibly smart and sexy geek girl Squishy from Extra Action did it all, and there’s more in store. She’s fucking brilliant, and will be fondling/tweaking my archives, getting a real RSS podcasting page up for me, and much more. You might see a few changes to this page in the next week or two, so don’t panic. It feels gooood, and RSS is the best lube a blog could have!

But what got me going in this direction was a post I saw on Fleshbot a few days ago promoting a site that gives sex advice to the “bend over boyfriend” crowd. I was thrilled. This is a much-needed resource (and a sex act I enjoy), and I was about to crow about and link to it — until I poked around the site. It’s a well-disguised commerce site with lots of information. But the first thing I managed to read was their off-the-bat (no puns!) recommendation for anal discomfort — a link to buy Anal Eze in their shop.

I can’t even begin to count the times I’ve lectured to classes, and sat in on lectures, where the topic is brought up and hands shoot up across the room. Each student tells a horror story about using Anal Eze — bleeding, days, even weeks of recovery, humiliating trips to the doctor. So, once more, and with feeling: This product is harmful, and it should never be used. Ever.

I’ve worked with MD’s on several sections of my sex guidebooks, for good reason. And here’s what I’ve discovered about “Anal Eze,” “Good Head Gel” and “delay spray/creams.” These products contain benzocaine, a topical local anasthetic that numbs sensation and temporarily deadens nerve endings wherever it is applied. It is widely used in first aid creams and sunburn remedies and acts to block the transmission of nerve impulses that carry pain messages.

While this might sound like a novel way to avoid pain during anal sex or delay ejaculation, the truth is that these products often have unwanted side effects resulting in tissue injury, bruising and tearing. That’s *tearing*. Anal Eze numbs the anus, which is a very delicate, unlubricated orifice that needs to be able to communicate the sensations of pain and distress to avoid injury — and torn or damaged rectal tissue is a serious health issue. Oral sex gels and creams with numbing agents sound like a great way to avoid the gag reflex and be able to “deep throat” (completely swallow a penis), but do not allow your body to tell you when you need to rest and can result in bruising of the throat.

In addition, numbing of the throat makes it possible for the user to accidentally aspirate (inhale) semen, causing a lung infection. Products containing benzocaine prescribed for dental or mouth pain caution against drinking or eating for one hour after application for a good reason. Products targeted at delaying ejaculation might leave the penis sore or even abraded when the benzocaine wears off, and use of the products for vaginal or anal penetration is not recommended. Desensitizing creams in the vaginal canal may lead to irritation and infection, bruising and abrasion, and often contain oils that will break condoms.

Additionally, these products should never be used if you have a history of unusual or allergic reaction with local anasthetics. For hot anal sex, go really, really slow. Start small. Start horny. Use gallons of lube. Make sure you’re really into it. And please, please don’t numb your butt. Who wants a numb butt anyway?

It’s the congratulatory drinks. Carol, Arlo, Chriso, Hornboy, more… My jobless friends are really happy I’m one of them now, and have been plying me with alcohol for the past few days… and lots of email from readers has been coming in gushing with hugs and support — thank you! I’m quite enjoying sleeping in, ahhh.

Coop! just emailed me — he’s a very bad man, we all know that, but now he’s… A criminally obscene artist?

"Stickers on a Clovis man’s car portray cartoon images of bare-breasted female devils in sexually compromising positions. And the images have caught the attention of Clovis police. Officials have charged 31-year-old Dean Young, the owner of a yellow Ford Focus displaying the images, with distribution of sexually oriented materials to minors." (Read more at Boing Boing; post by sexy sassy Xeni.) It looks like the ACLU might be taking the case…

So buy a Coop! sticker for Valentine’s day! Valentine’s Day is Monday! Alison Tyler sent me the cutest Valentine’s Day box — highly recommended, though it may be a little late for shipping: these candy heart cookies are adorable and taste great with coffee (in bed). Pick up a copy of Naughty Spanking Stories by Rachel Kramer Bussel, read a few hot stories to each other in bed, and spill that coffee! Better yet, get a copy of my new book The Ultimate Guide to Sexual Fantasy, with instructions on how to make your fantasies come true (and explicit stories to get you inspired). No money (jobless, like me?) and need something quick? Check out this ACME heart generator, where you can make sweet (and dirty) little jpegs that say anything you want. I love the other generators at the bottom of the page, too, where you can make the church sign or the tombstone say anything you want.

Yesterday I had the sheer delight of spending the afternoon (after the hangover) with sexy Extra Action trumpeter Squishy, working on getting this blog on RSS — and simplifying my podcasting. Yay! (I’m using the awesome service at libsyn.com and I highly, highly recommend it to would-be podcasters.) So be warned, coming soon, you’ll see this page change ever so slightly, and if you want you can subscribe to my blog, my podcasting and we’ll have some other fun surprises as well.

Speaking of RSS, I opened an account at del.icio.us. You see, while I often post fun links in my blog that I come across, I actually come across cool liks and stuff all day that I think are neato, but don’t necessarily fit within the context of my blog, or warrant a posting, or I’m out and about, etc… so now if you want to see the links I come across and want to save/share, or want to subscribe to them, you can visit my http://del.icio.us/violetblue page, or subscribe to this feed: http://del.icio.us/rss/violetblue

Tonight I’m going to relax, because tomorrow is busy, busy… I’ll be interviewed on pirate radio (88.9 fm) by Linda Arnejo at 3pm about The Ultimate Guide to Sexual Fantasy, then I have my radio show Porn Chat at 5:30, where I’ll be interviewing the sexy, sweet and whip-smart porn star Michael Soldier. Last week’s interview with Jack Shumama was one of the most fun interviews I’ve ever participated in, and since the show is broadcast out the front windows at ATA onto a busy street, we had a big crowd gather to watch us talk about porn screenwriting (Jack’s up for several awards for Wet Palms), bukkake and many other traffic-stopping dirty topics. I’ll be getting MP3 copies of each show and I’ll post them on my audio page and I’ll podcast them as well.

Talking with Michael tomorrow will be fun — he’s a terror, and Jack thinks my show should be a reverse-gender Howard Stern… I think Jack might come crash the show and stir things up, we’ll see… After that my best pal Thomas has convinced me to come read something at the annual Valentine’s benefit My Sucky Valentine. Phew. So much for not having a job…

Out front, there are no trees, no patches of dirt, just long wide filthy sidewalks glittering with broken glass, stained with feces, smelling sharply of urine. The flat patchy painted front of the building seems to make the sun hotter, the smell thicker. I am early for my 11am meeting.

Inside there is dank old industrial carpeting and partitioned off cubicles. It smells so familiar I can’t smell it anymore, but I know it smells like old shoes and air conditioning sealed together in a jar for ten years. I see the woman I’m supposed to meet, the woman who told me to be there on this day, at this time, in her email. Emails from managers asking for unexpected meetings always wash over me from the inbox, make me feel like I just got caught in an undertow. I know: swim parallel to the coastline. But you always end up really far from where you started, and it’s a long swim back. Exhausting.

She tells me she’ll see me later in the afternoon. I ask about the 11am. "Oh? Did we agree on a time?" Yes, you emailed me and told me to be here on this day, at this time. This is the third week since the first attempted meeting.

We sit down. It is dark, there is no light in this corner of her office. It smells like funeral flowers and old carpet, I think it’s perfume. She talks for a long time and all I notice is that her eyes are really watery. She was hired a few months ago, and I’ve never sat down to talk with her, never looked into her eyes. Never been asked to. They’re so wet. Is she going to cry? I wait for the tears to spill over. But they never do. I return to the conversation and she’s not talking about anything that might make her cry.

I listen. I try to talk but can’t get a pause in her stream to slip in. I lightly hit my hand on the table. I calmly, quietly say two small sentences that explain the confusion I’ve been holding for the past four months. I want an explanation. Someone else is blamed, someone who is never around. She sounds like a car salesman as she talks about her new plans, and that she was told to include me. I make her repeat the last part. It’s like I’m being given a cookie and patted on the head, and I know she doesn’t know anything about me, and doesn’t care. She slips in a compliment, but not one that makes sense. I am confused. I am in a movie that is being filmed in reverse. Will it make sense at the end? I want to say something but she keeps talking. I feel really small, like I’m at the grownup’s dinner table and need to sit on some phone books to reach my plate. This is how I’ve always felt here.

She tells me things I don’t understand about reaching alternative markets and I don’t understand what it has to do with me, right now. I’m to be a photo, an add-on to other people’s publicity because they can’t "do it all" themselves. A promise to do one small thing that should’ve been done months ago. Nothing compared to what I do every day on my own, with no assistants, ads, campaigns, publicists, support, family, cookies, bullshit. That’s okay. It doesn’t matter. She can tell me what she sees and I’d tell her what she’s missing in me, if she listened. Or asked. She talks for nearly five minutes. I can’t hold my breath anymore and have to start swimming. Sometimes life has stabbed me and hurt so bad I wanted to die, sometimes it’s made me want to destroy everything. But it’s made me understand that life is beautiful, even when it hurts. And most of all, it’s made me understand that life is a rental.

I tell her it’s too late. I rise, all mammoth 5′4" of me, and tell her "I am *no one’s* understudy." I hear the words come out from a deep place, a place I forgot I had. I feel like I’ve wanted to say it in this place all my life. "I quit, effective immediately." "You’re quitting over this?" She doesn’t understand that this is my life. Yes, I tell her, I am.

After 7 1/2 years, I no longer have a day job. I should’ve left months ago when I overheard the other manager on the phone, behind her closed door, imitating and making fun of me on the phone. I went home crying instead. But I’ve always known that retail is just a concentrated form of high school, not that I went to high school.

I packed up my belongings in a "US Mail Only" crate, turned in my keys, stopped in payroll to kiss Mr. J on the cheek with a wet, sticky vanilla lip gloss kiss, and walked through needle alley to the underground. Now, a nap. Later, I’ll write my submission to Friday Pussy Blogging, which is really fucking cool, and then round up a posse for a happy hour celebration. Now the adventure begins.

*** 2/8: Links to pics moved to my server and they now work. Fotki didn’t have the bandwidth to handle the traffic!

I house sit for a friend a couple of times a year. She’s an older Jewish lesbian mom. A dynamo. With a hot tub and two cute cats, and a quiet house with a view. It’s like a vacation for me when she visits her lover.

But one of the things I like to check out when I visit is her son’s room. He’s just beginning his teens, but I’ve been house sitting long enough to watch him go from Harry Potter toys to Lego Mindstorms and Playstation 2. So on Saturday night when I arrived to the empty house, I got a beer and went into his bedroom to check out his toys. There were immediate telltale signs of "young man" everywhere: A baseball poster where there used to be an "Owl Post" poster, an electric guitar where there used to be a pile of Harry Potter Legos. But there were some Legos left around on his toy chest. I looked once and was on my way out, but then noticed the configuration of the Lego assembly. It was a compound. And in the back, was a child’s version of Abu Ghirab. Stunned, I took photos. Front. Inside. Detail. Compound.

Hey — did anyone notice that Belle De Jour is back!? And sporting a pretty new book, too! Sassy. Welcome back, Belle! I missed you.

Things are really shaping up for Porn Chat with Violet Blue, the radio show I’m hosting for the next three Saturdays… The handsome and sassy Jack Shamama from GayPornBlog.com will be with me on my virgin show tomorrow night at 5:30 pm PST to talk about bad porn, what it’s like to be the "it boy" of the gay blog scene, what writing porn scripts is like (Wet Palms), and how many strange men’s penises he’s posed with in the past month. (That’s Jack in the photo, guess which one he is.) Next show I’ll be talking with the GayVN award-winning star of the year (Best Actor) Michael Soldier (2/12), and on my final show on 2/19 I’ll be chatting with Tony Comstock and Dr. Carol Queen. I’m going to at least ask each of them why porn sucks so bad, and what is the biggest thing each of them has had up their butt. Or something like that. I mean, I’m doing a show at happy hour with porn people. I can’t be too serious. Listen on the air here in SF on 87.9 FM and 88.9 FM, and online at piratecatradio.com. All shows are at 5:30 pm PST.

Get yourself in a sideways-smiley mood with this awesome flash animation music video Everyone Has had More Sex Than Me, sent to me by my mind-bogglingly sexy London pen-pal… "just went trawling a bit of porn after your comment about "My ass is haunted" and one link led to another and I found this http://daemlich.net/2736"

Poor bunny! Today’s bad news: my podcasting host has left the face of the earth. A pox on their livers, all of them. Another fire to extinguish. But good news: for my Porn Chat radio shows the next three weekends, I’ve got Michael Soldier and Tony Comstock lined up as guests… anyone have questions they want me to ask them? Okay, now I have to go watch Face Fuckers… I’m on the clock, you know.

First, let’s do a little Thursday mailbag. I checked the mail, and what did I see… one copy of Evil Angel/Nacho Vidal’s Face Fuckers, their fist all-male video in what appears to be an all-male line. The mainstream industry is all wondering, is Nacho gay? Well, looking at the elephant-trunk-dicked Nacho grinning on the cover and suffocating tattooed men with his cock, I can tell you he doesn’t really give a fuck what anyone thinks… It looks pretty rough, too. Next package: another Evil Angel video, this one not mailed from Evil Angel, but sent to me from Adult DVD Talk — Belladonna’s My Ass Is Haunted. What a great title! Girls dressed as nuns licking each other’s asses. Now that’s cool. Then, the next envelope, three catalogs from a book distributor with a huge erotic book catalog, nice. After that, a slim envelope with another catalog, this time from Starr Productions. Whoah. I opted for the next package, a petite box containing… a Rock Chick! Sweeeet. Let the experiments begin!

Then I check email. An email from a major mainstream cable network that wants to talk about doing an experimental TV sex show. I wonder, don’t they know I’m not a Barbie? They do — producer: "We like you because you’re a new face and you have an *edge*." I think he meant "wedgie." Next, Mr. Adam Curry. I told him I’d stop calling him "Mr." when he coughs up the RealDolls from so long ago… his email says he’s saving his money. Tony Comstock sends me a link to his new blog, where you’ll find hot pictures (stills) from his new film… I get an email from NPR asking me to do four radio shows for their "Indecency" series, which will be broadcast over two pirate radio stations and streamed over PirateCat. I agree to do "Porn Chat With Violet Blue," on 2/5 at 5:30, an interview about my work on 2/12 at 3:30, Porn Chat also on 2/12 at 5:30, and Porn Chat again on 2/19 at 5:30 (all PST). I start rounding up local porny friends to come say dirty things on the air with me…

I check messages. A big porn magazine wants me to write a column for them. I’ll have to find out what it is first. Funny story: Last night I was walking through the Castro and looking for "help wanted" signs in the porn stores. Things are getting kinda weird for me…

So I decide to do some work on one of my strange fun freelance gigs. A blow-up doll company has hired me to make their copy sound more palatable. Pays well and is hours of endless amusement, and a resource for the interpretive porn readings I’ll be doing in May at a benefit for Other Magazine. Here is some of the copy I write:

Officer Sukkit
She’s not very tough on crime, but this blow-up doll police officer with oral, anal and vaginal entries will be very receptive when you call for backup. Bad jokes aside, we just think that uniforms are sexy, and couldn’t resist a love doll that’s into role-play, too.

Chrissy Coed Cheerleader
She might be a little too quiet to take to the football game, and we don’t really think she made the squad, but Chrissy definitely has the pep to be the number one blow up doll cheering for your team. And with oral, vaginal and anal openings, you can make her try out as many routines as you can imagine.

Dirty Christina Doll
This blow-up doll makes us feel like we’re ready to rock–and whether you want to explore her anal, vaginal and oral openings or just want to croon "What a Girl Wants" by candlelight, Dirty Christina is very inspiring indeed. What’s more, with a rock star date like her you’ll never have to wait in those red carpet lines again. Bass guitar not included.

J-Ho Love Doll
Get your hands on the most coveted ass in the world of blow up doll celebrities when you pick up the superstar JHo doll. Oral, anal and vaginal entries make this girl "from the block" ready for action anytime, whether she stars in your own private Gigli or gets down with you in any position "on the 6."

To my surprise, they accepted all the copy…