Part of the process of running for International Ms Leather was coming up with a “Fantasy” segment. I had a small (dis)advantage as I’d already performed one for my run for Ms. SF Leather, and was satisfied with how that went. I decided, somewhat controversially (and against several recommendations,) to reproduce the performance verbatim for the International competition.

I have the rare (and, surprise surprise) further controversial move of having video of the performance available for those who were unable to join us for this amazing competition. Thanks to Q, who I am proud to stand beside in Leather, and as Chosen Family.

I’m not unfamiliar with the fact that my story, my life, my practices, make some uncomfortable. I also know that I live my life to honor my God and those I love. My intention is to tell a story…my story…in a way that is facilitated by a lifetime of training and practice in performance and storytelling.

Some people have a simple straightforward path to their Leather lifestyle. And some of us have a more…challenging path.

Now isn’t the time for me to backpedal or apologise.

Now is the time to facilitate dialog, stay in transparency, to walk in integrity.

To be honest? I haven’t watched the video. I can hardly listen to the song without my insides curling up and tingling and exploding,

And if you wanna buy the version featured, you can do so here.

And if you want to examine the thoughts of someone who saw the contest and floored me with their analysis, you can read it here.

And if you are a member of FetLife and want to read the very personal process of someone who saw the fantasy, was challenged by it, and honored the spirit of the message by thinking and sharing her thoughts, you can do that here.

Look, I know it isn’t the easiest thing, to see something that mirrors some of the darker aspects of our American history. But I am not in the business of avoiding darkness.

I honor my ancestors, the women and men who fought and struggled and died. I am well aware that I wouldn’t enjoy the freedoms I sometimes take for granted without that which has gone before.

If my worship doesn’t look like yours, that’s OK.

We all have our own paths to walk.

More to follow…I leave for a week in Florida tomorrow morning.

I have so many to thank, and I will, soon. To the Producers, The Judges, the AMAZING women with whom I ran, my sponsors, my supporters, My Leather Family, Patti my backstage Goddess and Tee, my Sister, thank you.

Please meet my Sash Spouse, International Ms. Boot Black 2010, Jayson Da Boi!

IMsL 2010 Mollena Williams & IMsB Jayson Da Boi

Follow IMsL info on Twitter at @IMsL2010!

Congratulations, International Ms Leather, 2010!

Mollena Williams
Mo sends love and heartfelt appreciation to everyone who supported her!

 

Congratulations, first runner up,

Donna Lady

 

Congratulations, second runner up

Ms. Rae

Red-eye yeti.

I am learning to write in mid-air. I used to never be interested in doing so. I think it is good to have this desire blossoming. I have many flights in my future, and don’t foresee that slowing down any time soon. So…we write.

I’m in first class tonight. And this is awesome. I took a bump to a later flight and ta da…comfort and a voucher for a future flight.

The woman sitting next to me is drinking something…possibly a Cape Codder. And it stinks. That’s less awesome.

I don’t have, at present, any residual desire for alcohol. I am often amazed at how so many other alcoholics describe their hunger for booze. Right now, I hate it. I have since I got sober, the smell of it on someone’s breath is often enough to sicken me. I don’t like bars…I never really did, because I didn’t want anyone else to really see the way I really drank. And today, unless I’m in a bar / restaurant, the focus on and smell of booze in bars fills me with a back-stumbling awkwardness and nausea. Flashbacks of terrible shit I would love to forget and refuse to forget.

Ever.

I don’t want to ever, ever forget. (more…)

From  e[lust] …source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #12? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Sometimes poly IS hard – The difficulties one faces in managing healthy interpersonal relationships, and the skills one employs in overcoming those difficulties, are the same whether you are monogamous or poly or something in between.

Artist and Model – I’m drawing her furiously along with everyone else in the class. I know her name is Janice because a long time ago we’d been acquaintances, then lovers for a night, and then I didn’t see or hear from her again.

His Boots – He’s my fix. I’m his addiction. Maybe we’re just each other’s junkies? I can never tell when i’m close enough to breathe him in I cease to care about anything else.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

I need a new highway….

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Nerds are NOT this season’s must-have accessory - Being a nerd doesn’t mean you grew up unpopular and tormented, that you have a high-paying job, that you like Star Trek, that you’re socially awkward, that you never exercise, that you run Linux on your computer, that you’re highly educated, that you have low self esteem, or that you have trouble getting dates.

(more…)

I’m spacey. Not like Kevin. Like outer. This is a well-established fact.

So, this afternoon, on uncurling myself from the correspondence and phone calls, I made my way out into the afternoon sunlight only to find myself trapped.

I was at The Hungarian’s house, and there is a little front porch that is gated, and the gate is keyed from both sides. To escape from the house one has to buzz the gate open from the inside, open the gate, shut the door of the house behind you, and trip merrily onwards.

Sadly, I locked the door before buzzing myself out as I had, for a critical moment, believed the gate to be open.

Long story short, I’d an impromptu “puppy cage” scene while waiting for The Hungarian to get back from work. My Twitter friends were for the most part (and rightfully so) amused at my plight.

At least I haz Internets...

It was a long hour, and hard on the butt, but I was finally rescued by my handy dandy Magyar in shining armor.

Or at least carrying a guitar and a bemused grin.
(more…)

Yay!

For those who weren’t jammed the FUCK into the Happy Ending Lounge for In The Flesh NYC on March 18th, your time has come!

I performed one of my favorite stories there. You can read it here and you can watch it below.

Here is the first part…

…and here is the rest!

Enjoy! And thanks to Rachel Kramer Bussel for all of her hard work and awesomesauciness!

Dear Jim…

It is HIGHLY unlikely you’ll ever read this,

I’m writing it anyway.

Who the fuck am I kidding.

Honestly? Frankly? The “You” to whom I’m writing only lives in my heart and mind. The “You” you are today is years and miles away from the man who upended my life, careened me into new and previously unknown realms, and left me shaking and alone, but ready to be who I needed to be. This exercise in writing “You” a letter isn’t about writing a letter to the actual James.

No, the “You” to whom I’m writing is a kaleidoscopic doppelganger of emotional glassbits that tumble through the scratched lens of my mind’s eye.

It is the “You” I first saw in Barney’s Beanery in December of 1993 in Los Angeles.

It is the “You” who opened up a channel to my future from which spoke a voice alerting me to the unfathomable changes that you’d unleash in my life.

It is the “You” whose gorgeous, simple, heated coarse brutality shocked and completed me so totally, it obliterated every thought of ever desiring anyone but you, ever and ever forever and ever, amen

It is the “You” I adored so completely that I spent hundreds of dollars a month, money I didn’t have, to keep your voice and laughter and despicable beautiful lusts in my head even though we were a continent and an ocean apart.

It is the “You ”that, no matter how fleeting our subsequent borrowed times together were, they were enough to sustain me through the years…even through the other relationships…because “I knew in my heart of hearts!” that I was yours, and yours alone, and that some day you would hold this knowledge as surely as I did and you would permit me to love you and yourself to love me the way that Fate intended.

It is the “You” for whom I still struggled to make space, even though I knew it was futile. Some ambertrapped part of me knew…knew…that you would remember who we were.

Today that “You”…those iterations, all of them and more beside…all joined me at once. As I ate my fucking bleu cheeseburger and tried to hold my shit together.

See, today was a rough day. Closing out a convention that had been a bit of a roller-coaster for me. My weekend had been fraught, hormonal issues didn’t help any, and one of the bits of my life that I’d hoped had settled, thereby relieving me of a substantial amount of stress had come undone and I was kind of back to square one.

Today it really hit me in a whole new way, how strange and loopy my life is become. I realized that the next 2 weeks of my life were leading up to some Pretty Big Shit and I wasn’t at all sure how I was going to hold up.

And I was lonely…so lonely.

You know how this is.

The crowd, the people telling you how awesome you are, and still it is so hard…so hard to absorb. I remember how tough it was for you before you gained the degree of notoriety you have today to hang in there when your situation was so discouraging…struggling like so many artists do. I remember one night in Islington as we scraped together pence and pounds to get supper and fags you telling me how you were so grateful and happy that I was there with you, through that rough time. I remember a lot more…but that is for my memory and yours alone.

So it is painful and awful to have so much of these memories blurred and torqued into something less than effulgently fulfilling as I remember the other “You.”

The “You” who reminded me, with a shockingly callus emotional brutality, that my feelings for you weren’t important in light of your “real girlfriends” feelings.

It is the “You” who, after a decade, of my foolish naive hopes, explained that I was not nor would I be, yours.

The “You” who berated me for writing, with pride and passion, about our affair, and how transformational it was.

The “You” who, when his “people” discovered that we were easily linked by a couple of savvy Google searches, called me to insist that it was all inappropriate, and that it should be removed immediately.

It speaks to the still extant desire to please you that coiled, latent, around my heart that my first reaction to this shocking demand was…shame. Shame and sadness and the impulse to say “You’re right, and I am sorry…sorry I spoke. Sorry I wrote. Sorry I am who I am. Sorry that I took this stunning secret me that you unearthed and I polished it and refined it and set it out for all to see and share.

Sorry I am who I am.” (more…)

I love sleeping. Really. Falling asleep is one of my favorite sensations ever.

It can only really be surpassed by the sensation of falling asleep curled up against someone and feeling warm and comforted and comfortably close.

Waking up to a patch of sunlight with no particular place to go with still-smouldering memories of thenight before drifting through your mind’s eye?

Perfect.

Happy HNT!