I’ll be sharing a bite of this story once again – after premiering “Hyena” in Vienna and then performing it a second time in Huddersfield England – at home in New York.
After giving up on life and then finding myself energised to reject my imminent death…after being advised it was almost impossible I’d stay sober on my “first try,” after bucking the fuckng odds this long, I take absolutely no day sober for granted.
I usually become a little more ferociously sentimental around my soberversary. As I approach, Ganesha willing, a milestone, I am humbled by this benchmark. I remember all of the people who helped me get treatment, get on my feet, get back to life.
I’ll be grateful should I reach this day. And I am so grateful for all of the 3,643 days I have lived thus far. Grateful to be able to count back to that darkness, and count the days to a lovely moment of wonder.
“Toxic.” Yeah you can talk all you want about how pop music is artless, soulless tripe. I’d have probably sneered sanguinely along with you until late 2007. By then, I was as tired of that fucking song as anyone. I was also newly sober, deeply concerned for my mental health and running away from a job that had kicked my ass…a failure unlike any I’d previously experienced. I was having a solo supper, pondering the wreckage of my life, maybe 9 months of sobriety under my belt and the shadow of the demon that was my alcoholism perpetually snapping at my heels. Then this fucking song comes on. I tune it out but Spears’ autotuned forced breathiness skewered my consciousness.
Baby, can’t you see
A guy like you should wear a warning
I sighed, trying to tune it out but some facet of my consciousless sparked to life.
There’s no escape
I can’t wait
I need a hit
Baby, give me it
I’m loving it
Can’t come down
Losin’ my head
Spinnin’ ’round and ’round
Do you feel me now?
I could only relate on a limited basis to this song about feeling so hooked on someone…perhaps once in my life, OK, maybe…but that shit doesn’t last and wasn’t what drew me in.Continue reading »
Those who were at our wedding – or watched it on LiveStream – were able to hear the “sketches” of two parts of a piece Georg was writing in my name to commemorate our wedding. This all came about because someone asked if we were going to have his compositions in our wedding and I was amused, since nothing he’s written to date was really of a celebratory nature and certainly not anything one would think of for an occasion such as a wedding!
Unless, of course, it was like Persephone being wedded to Hades or some shit.
But he, with traditional Austrian stubbornness augmented by the particular flavor of Styrian obstinacy, decided that of COURSE he would write music for our wedding. And it just debuted on the March 17th.
The reception for the premier? STELLAR. He received tremendous audience response and six callbacks in the curtain calls. Believe me, for an audience of mostly Germans, this is bloody epic.
When I first heard even just the sketches at the wedding, I was amazed. Sitting in the rehearsals and hearing all of these talented artists working so hard to realize his vision, I was delighted. To sit in the Prinzregententheater and hear the RIAS Kammerchor singing and the Munich Chamber Orchestr (brilliantly and passionately conducted by Herr Alexander Liebreich) bring such resplendent complexity to the piece was spiritually uplifting beyond words.
After the concert, one of the lovely members of the Choir (she was really kind to me throughout) presented us with the sweetest and thoughtfullest gift…a whole buncha little matchboxes with some perverts on the top! They’d used a photo they’d taken of us during the rehearsals.
One of the things I am pondering mightily is the reality of submission as it is lived vs. the hot & horny fantasy of d/s. A time ago, I went to the Center for Sex & Culture to see Laura Antoniou talk about stuff. Not many people beside myself were there, because jaded-ass San Francisco is like that. It was great for me, though, because I got to have pretty much a one-on-one conversation with someone I respect. One of the things she said about submission being put to the test when it is difficult to obey really struck a nerve. I had been struggling for a bit with my own submission, what with being newly released after requesting the dissolution of a 2-year relationship, and feeling like perhaps I wasn’t actually cut out for this slavery thing.
She spoke of submission not really being much of an achievement when one is only doing the stuff they wanted to do and would have done anyway even without the imperative of consensual subjugation. Is it truly an act of submission if you take thirty lashes from a whip when you are an inveterate masochist who enjoys every blow? Or is the submission more profound when pain is not erotic for you , and yet you endure it for the love or joy or pleasure or whim of your dominant?Continue reading »
Howdy from Austria. Land of schnitzel & secondhand smoke.
It has been quite a stretch of time since I have blogged. Those who are connected to me virtually via Twitter or better yet Facebook have been on the receiving end of snippets and sketches and bits about the past few months. Part of me wants to go back and reconstruct what is an amazing journey…but realizing that there are foundational pieces of our story that can’t be shared at the present has me resigned to leave it as it is, for now. An outline, a sketch, and to turn back at a future time to fill in the color, melody, nuance, details, sights and emotional depth once I am free to tell the thing as it truly is.
A few months ago I took an INSANE trip to my former home of San Francisco from my once and present home in New York, so that I could share a story. I am indebted to all of the Bawdy Storytelling fans who voted for me to appear in the 7th Anniversary show, and even more indebted to the people who donated to make that insanity happen.
When I returned from SF, my owner asked where he could see my performance. I advised it might take a little while before that happened…and yesterday, it did! We settled into bed, and I had to force myself to watch myself in the video (a thing I dread). Herr Meister was at a bit of a disadvantage because not only am I speaking at a pace appreciably more rapid than I do for his benefit, the language barrier becomes marked when you add in slang and shortcuts. A few times we had to stop while I explained, for example, what I meant by my comment that hesitancy in dominance is like a cold bucket of slime on my pussy. And I reassured him that he was not one of the slime throwers. He seemed to love listening to the telling. Continue reading »
I am superfucking picky about reviewing shit, endorsing stuff, reviewing toys, permitting advertising on my site…all that shit. Why? because I’m lazy. Yep. I often do not wanna do the work it takes to vet people, places and things for inclusion on my site.
(That’l likely change soon, because I need to monetize this fucker. Bandwidth don’t pay for itself!)
However, in this case, I’m-a straight up plug & push a retreat that is being created by a woman I love and respect very much.
When I say I don’t look up to many people in the Leather Lifestyle, people assume it is because I’m a snobby asshole. OK point. But the MAIN reason is that my heart & soul can REALLY only “look up” to people who resonate with me on a number of levels . One of the basic levels is a woman who identifies as powerful, who is submissive, and identifies as a slave and is also Black.
I was more anxious than happy when I received an IM from The Composer. It was the middle of the night for him, and he had responded to one of my e-mails letting me know he was only up for a bit and was going to sleep once he was done working. The anxiety stemmed from the fact that my message was less than cheery. I’m dealing with (yet more) dental issues and navigating Medicaid to get the care I need isn’t as simple a thing as one would hope. Being from Europe, the vagaries of our healthcare system are opaque to him, and being a poor kid, I careen wildly between irrationally ragey and then panicked reactions when I have to even TALK about this shit. Let alone do the research and phone calls and make appointments only to be told no, sorry, YOUR particular brand of poor folks healthcare isn’t the RIGHT kind of poor folks health care so just take your poor ass somewhere else, poor person.
Aah, online dating. I’ve been registered with online dating sites of all stripes since the fledgling days of my tiptoed explorations into the internet, and have seen many come and go. One of the worst of the BDSM / kink slums is CollarMe.com. My profile there is maintained purely for comic relief and passive gathering of choice moments of “My Gods, can they really be serious??”
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