|
Archives 8/13 to 8/30/2003 Hail Fellatio! (8/30) (one star) The marriage bed is undefiled
But I mean, come on. She bought a book on cocksucking. Besides, I hear the bible's pretty dirty all on its own. What does she need my book for? Oh, and some sad news: I killed my favorite dildo. Here is my ode to Woody: Woody R.I.P 8/7/2003 - 8/27/2003 I didn't kill Woody because he made me jealous -- no, no. We had an open agreement -- as long as we both shared, boys or girls, Woody and I were a modern pair. It was an accident. A crime of passion. Okay, a crime of raging lust. The video was cued up. My pajamas were off, panties dangling from an ankle. My parts were all slicked up, and now it was Woody's turn. I poured the fateful handful -- of silicone lube, and rubbed it all over Woody, just the way he and I liked it (sniff). Everything seemed fine, and then -- Woody started to absorb the lube. And grow strangely sticky. My blood ran cold. I knew right then -- but only then, I swear! I knew that Woody was one of those silicone dildos incompatible with silicone lube. Dammit -- I had heard about this phenomenon from Shar and Jackie, but now I knew the facts, the hard way. All worked up, and no Woody. So it was all an accident, see? No dame in her right mind would off her Woody just when she needed him most. That's my story, anyway -- and I'm stickin' to it.
Meanwhile, the deadline for Mark Pauline's wedding approaches. I need to find a gift. What do you get the guy who owns a human skin? What do you get the gal who can borrow her fiancée's Kevlar vest anytime she likes? I'm stumped. I got them a cheese grater for their housewarming, so that great gift idea is off the list. How about a remote-internet-controlled, fire-spewing, sideways-crawling, extremely loud blender made from two jet engines, augers from post-hole drillers and parts from industrial bucketloaders and old farm equipment? Good idea, but I'm running out of time. Next week is the bachelorette party, which I've both been invited to and been asked to be the entertainment. That's right -- I'm the entertainment. No, I'm not stripping or lap dancing (oh, scratch that if you read about last month's bachelorette party). But that might be fun considering the attendees are likely the smartest women in the Bay Area -- creators of the most complex code and computer interfaces, masterminds behind the Webby Awards, Cupcake, etc. I've been asked to host a Pleasure Party for my friends -- a Good Vibes party where the hosts (me and another GV educator, my pal Daphne) literally give the party-goers a store tour in their own home. I don't usually do these, but this is a special request, and I think it'll be a blast. What will these brianiac, super-hot geekettes do with boxes of sex toys, drinks, and me? What have I gotten myself into? I don't know, but it'll be fun to give a "sex toys 101" to a group of my closest friends. Now I'm going back to blankets, tissues and books. Friends are offering to bring me chicken soup and porn. What good friends I have. Better yet, I'll spend the weekend trading vapor rubdowns with the hot new couple in my life, Freddy and Eddy. In my online dreams, anyway -- I'm not getting far with anyone in my bunny slippers, flannel pajamas, cotton Barbie panties, and incessant sniffles. Argh! Man Seeks Inflatable Sheep (8/25)
San Francisco is a strange and beautiful place. Especially now that all the get-rich-quick dot-com halfwits have emptied out and made room for the arts scene to grow back. Last week was a great example of that, not just for my Asian contortionist close encounter, but because I got out a little. On Tuesday evening I went to my favorite café in SF, a place I've been going to since I was a kid, the Blue Front. They have the best hummus in the universe, and I've known the family that runs it forever. After a yummy salad and a pint of local microbrew, I bought some hummus and bagels to go, and found myself in nearby Golden Gate Park, at Stow Lake. Stow is less of a lake and more of a doughnut of water with a forested island in the center that you can walk around, and I did just that, feeding the wary mallards my bagels. Feeding ducks makes me very happy, like a little kid; I do not know why. It was warm, and the sunset in the park through the trees was beautiful. On Wednesday I sat through a tedious 8-hour Good Vibes meeting (during which I etched a broken line and "cut here" across my left wrist in ink). But it was at the famed Women's Building in the Mission, covered in a colorful mural that brings tourists far and wide to photograph it, and at the break I walked over to another great deli and bought cheese, bread and Pellegrino water. The weather was nice in the evening, so I walked over to the Lower Haight to meet with my publisher and they took me out to a fancy dinner at the Slanted Door to celebrate my video book going to press. They also told me that a certain bookseller (we'll call them "Buns and Noodles") got very freaked out and nervous about my book, especially the cover, and cut their presale order by a twelfth! I knew we were taking a risk with the nipples on the cover, but really -- well, it's good news for everyone else who'll carry it. But we did resolve to change the cover to a plain cover, which I'm fine with, because then it's congruent with their "Ultimate Guide" series -- and has a good chance of being placed in windows, on displays, etc. Hey, the content is still the same. Enjoy the banned bookcover that still lives here on my site. Thursday I worked at one of the Good Vibes stores, and for some reason I felt like dressing really sexy. Tight black jeans, low-cut polka-dot halter top, long black hair down my back. It made for a very interesting workday, which culminated in an instance where one of the very sexy women who works there did something, quite naughty to me. She is a fetish model, outrageously leggy and attractive, and I've seen some jaw-dropping pictures of her in bondage and encased in rubber. She flirted with me all day, then, while we were standing by the S/M display, she picked up a massage candle and said she'd like to try it -- on me. These candles melt into wax that can be used as massage oil, and I found out for real when she turned me around, lit the candle and dripped hot wax onto my back and shoulders. It wasn't as hot as a regular candle, and I did tell her I like the sensation of hot wax, so it was all consensual. It was a huge turn-on, especially in public. Then she massaged the melted oil in, with a massage that was at once relaxing and exciting. Needless to say, I bought a massage candle that day, and hope to pursue further wax studies with this naughty minx, hopefully in front of a camera.
The weekend was spent battling the fucking evil email viruses attacking my server and mailbox, and trying to wrap up my next anthology, a collection of forbidden fantasies for couples. There are a handful of stories I've received that are well written yet totally unpublishable due to their content -- lurid fantasies that are serious taboos. Nothing illegal, technically, but still way the fuck out there, ironically containing loving couples. I wish I could do something with them, simply because they're such curiosities. Speaking of curiosities, I'll end with this lovely email found in my inbox this morning. Enjoy the visuals: Hello I am a 'generously proportioned' male (375 pounds) with a less than Best regards Synesthesia Interview -- Coming In Color (8/23) I love the adorable retro sex site, Lippy Imp -- and Lippy loves me back! No more lonely nights, ahhh. Check out the big, fat and happy interview with me on Lippy Imp, which is actually my favorite interview to date. I've been interviewed by places as far and wide as Esquire magazine and the Discovery Channel, but this one's my favorite because I feel like I finally got a chance to comment on how I think our culture is affected by what people like me are doing. Yay! Lick My Gubernatorial Platforms, You Worm (8/18) And I thought Larry Flynt running for governor of my fair native state was cool. Adult supermodel and queen of big-boobie naked jumping jacks Mary Carey is in the running, and with many, er, interesting platforms (and not just of the spike-heeled variety). Along with taxing breast implants, making lap dances tax deductible and a "porn for pistols" anti-violence exchange program, I think my favorite platform of Carey's is: "4. If I’m elected Governor, I will wire the Governor’s Mansion with live web cams in every room. We will create a pay site, and all money collected will go toward reducing the deficit. Californians will get to see their government in action -- literally!" Wow, I've been getting oodles of mail lately -- yay! I went to a wedding this weekend here in town, where one of my oldest friends married her butch girlfriend of many years. After a week of dealing with that porn industry woman angrily criticizing my upcoming book based on its being geared toward female viewers, couples and films focused on female pleasure, being at my friends' all-inclusive wedding was like food for my soul. As is much of the mail I've received on the topic. Last week when I worked at the Good Vibes store I recounted my magazine-lady experience to an African-American feminist I work with, and she told me she wasn't surprised at all. "What do you mean? I'm kinda shocked," I told her. She explained to me that African-American culture has a term for people like the magazine editor lady, a term I can't repeat here. She said that it's a term referring to when a black person gets into a previously all-white enclave of some kind, and then is the only person of color there -- and acts as a sentinel, guarding against the inclusion of other people of color, not allowing them in. She told me that this editor lady was being exactly like that, guarding against other women who didn't tow the line or who might challenge what her position is built upon, in an industry built on male and female stereotypes. It's an interesting point, as interesting as one reader who wrote me saying, "...it sounds like you're taking on some of the myths of the industry that continue to undermine it. You citing the porn-industry mag woman who criticized your assumption about your audience really hit home, except I'm a man and enjoy porn and erotica of all types, and the industry just doesn't get it. Jesus, with the millions they're making you'd think they could take a risk or two occasionally, I mean look how popular Fashionistas is, that's not standard fare!" Indeed. You can tell this is really on my mind, but I'm excited by it at the same time. So I dug up a bunch of recent articles on women and porn, and the mainstreaming of porn in general:
Porn for women in the UK: Porn mainstreaming: On other fronts, I think I'm finally over my evil allergic reaction to Burning Man (playa dust) and can get back on the porn reviewing train. Ahhh -- yesterday I watched the newest video from indy porn makers Blowfish Video, Clearly Sex, and had the masturbation session of my life. Or at least of the weekend. This video is a great example of San Francisco porn (unlike the drek my company makes). Hot, sexy women with incredible natural bodies (they look like hotties that might work at the local hip café) experiment ten ways until Sunday with every hard acrylic toy that Blowfish carries, yum! You see, to get my interest with girl-girl and female masturbation fare, the women must have bodies similar to mine and have to be really getting off and having fun. And in this video they are all that. One steamy masturbation scene opens the video, then there is a brief interruption as we see how the toys are made (it's cool if you like tech stuff and lathes, like me), then four women try out a bunch of toys. Let's just say they were very inventive with positions. The final scene was with a het couple where they have sex while he enjoys a butt plug, but sadly there's no come shot, and you know how I objectify men... but they are cute and loving and very tender and sweet, which sure is a nice change from most of the porn out there. So that's my pick 'o the week. Now, back to the next two books, a couple proposals, pitching an article, and firing up my poor neglected motorcycle.
Women Watch Porn, Dammit! (8/13) Often in the business of working with small, independent book publishers (as I do), the publisher will impress upon the author to garner quotes from various sources with which to grace the book's cover. These quotes are intended to help book sales, give browsers an idea of what someone else thought about it, and the sources of the quotes round out the book's suggested audience. Big publishers do this too, but with small ones, the onus is on the author to select quoters, and solicit the quotes personally.
But when I got back from my ill-fated weekend in the desert, I had a non-lovely, cold, curt and short email form someone I'd sent the galley to. This woman works for a big, well-known porn industry magazine, created by and for the world of mainstream adult, and is sold only at adult stores. She was very upset, and said she wouldn't be giving me any endorsement, and provided her personal phone number. So I called he to find out what her issues were, and to garner some feedback. As it turns out, she was quite cagey on specifics. She said there were problems, but wouldn't tell me what they were, and the ones she did specify seemed odd -- she said I should have included titles that (when I checked) still aren't available for consumers, and complained that I mentioned her magazine's website's pop-up. But what really bothered her about the whole book, the big main problem, and why she only read the first hundred pages, was that the book "is too focused on the reader being a woman."
I scratch my head, and await more comments. Meanwhile, here's what Mike Osterowski, Correspondent at Playboy Magazine said: *Violet Blue's chapters on "Safer Sex in Porn" and "Porn Terminology and Sex Act Glossary" are alone worth the cost of the book. This is highly intelligent, incredibly up-to-date information, some of which actually could save your life. Worth reading, worth buying, worth keeping. This book contains more contemporary resources and current information on adult videos and sex than any I've seen in a long time. Violet Blue is fast becoming the goddess of "Ultimate Guides," and this one (her third) is her best to date.*
|
Indeed -- if you want an undefiled bed of any kind, certainly do not buy my books! Like something scary waiting in the woods to devour the devout conscience of the subjugated moralistically religious housewife, my books will not only defile that bed, but I guarantee they'll burn holes in your sheets, make your sanctified bed into a blazing bonfire of orgiastic lesbian strap-on homosexual sex-with-strangers lust, and you and your lover, whoever they might be, will be transformed into raging orally fixated sex bunnies who know what to do when they travel south, know what I mean? I am sorry if this poor lady feels violated by my book. And I am sorry that she thinks I am an older woman (ahem!). I am also sorry that she managed to totally miss all the illustrations (?). But mostly I'm amused to watch her morals collide with her desires, like a car wreck in slow motion.
I know, this picture looks really freaky. I was cruising through the Exotic Erotic website looking at last year's pictures -- I was there last year on a lark, snuck in, and also snuck backstage -- and found this bizarre photo. But what's even stranger (than me going to Exotic Neurotic?) is that when I was at my gym last Friday, this woman was there too. I was stretching, watching this tiny Asian woman do these insane pretzel stretches, laying her head on her ass, and effortlessly doing a variety of poses standing on her hands, and thought, she looks familiar. That's not all I thought, like, how does she have sex, and does she have a trapeze above her bed, and can she eat cereal using her feet, and... She became the nexus of a surreal moment in an already surreal environment, not just by her mesmerizing Stretch Armstrong abilities, but also because she was in full going-out makeup (and lipstick), and every time she leaned over onto her hands and slowly brought her legs up in the air, she let out a little high-pitched "wheeee!" Then last night I came across this picture again, and realized it was her. And no, she's not wearing panties.
After work I went to two amazing art shows. The first one was a show that included the works of former 
I realized that I probably shouldn't tell her that the book was written primarily for couples that include women. Can you imagine my amazement to hear this coming from a woman, nonetheless a prominent female editor in the adult industry? Well, I'm not totally surprised -- the book is a highly critical examination of porn from the perspective of a consumer -- a female consumer. I don't expect anyone who thinks that only men watch porn to like my book. I just can't believe that someone who promotes porn for a living (as she does) would virulently overlook a huge and growing consumer market, as seen in this recent article by the 