Friday, March 24, 2017

Climate Change


It will be a few days before I have either of these drawings done (and that's if I remain in the zone), and I might not wait that long before I post this.  My bad mood is not lessening.  I'm depressed, I'm hurt, I'm pissed off.  I have more subjects lined up to draw but am only half-hearted about them: given the political climate with seemingly half my fellow citizens acting like brownshirts for Trump, and my alienation from Dana, I feel like drawing something more defiant and definitive.  I want to stand up for my own values, and while I'm at it post something of a 'fuck you'.  Maybe I can find a drawing in one of Annnie Sprinkle's more infamous scenes.  She had a stand-out moment in 'The Devil Inside Her' that put her on the map.  Bad photography, but it might translate.  Annie Sprinkle is one of my heroes for the astonishing bravery with which she has publicly explored all aspects of sexuality, refusing to feel shame.

A year or so ago I read of a court case about Facebook censoring classical artwork.  Look it up, it involved Gustav Courbet's 1866 'Origin of the World'.



It reminded me of an occasion in school when Ms. McNamee asked me a startling question.  One of the major periodicals,  probably Time, had used a piece of classical art involving nudity for their cover.  As an artist, wasn't I offended by that?  I've never been good at expressing myself through spoken word, and I'm a quiet person anyway, so I didn't know how to respond.  What I wish I had been able to express was that what offended me was the assumption that I would reject (a) the human body, (b) sexuality, or (c) freedom of expression in any form.   The impulse to suppress, that's what I found offensive.  The mindset is offensive.

 The painting seems to have been a reaction against hypocrisy.  It prompted another equally laudable:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMm8GjoDNZ4




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I posted something much longer, extremely personal about myself and dreams I've had on a particular aspect of sexuality.  Once it was up, my instinct was to cut it.  I still have it in Notebook.  It reveals nothing about anyone but myself, but it's best to give that warning.  The subject is roleplaying, BDSM, and emotional catharsis.  The upshot is that I'm extremely jaded, and I'm pro-sex as long as it's consensual and not destructive to the participants.  I'm not necessarily into everything, but I have no biases.  Some aspects of BDSM do it for me, some don't.

I want to know why I keep having a particular series of dreams, since the early 90s.  I want to explore what they mean to me, my reaction to them.  In part I wrote, speaking of a hypothetical lover, "If something turns her on, I'm turned on by her response to it. (...) That's what sex is for me at is fullest: not the fetish, not the act, but the woman who can share the things that get her there, and trust me with the need behind it.  That I respect.  That I treasure.  That takes courage."

I'm still pissed off enough to be reckless and post it anyway.


(edit)  Fuck it.  I can't take any more.


If explicit sexuality makes you uncomfortable, this isn't the post for you.  Don't read it.  I  write this blog for myself, for Dana, and for total strangers.  If you know me and don't want that kind of personal detail, click away now.  Be elsewhere.

Dana has gradually become more an imaginary person than someone real.   I know more about the Dana that arrives in dreams than I ever did about the girl I fell in love with.   The real woman is a stranger by her own insistence.  I no longer feel any sense of loyalty to her.  I sure as hell wouldn't trust her with my heart. 

One of the recurring themes of dreams I've had since the early 90s has been of Dana being owned by some mafia-type figure.  These have been varied with her giving herself over willingly as a sex slave.  I don't know why I keep having that dream, why I would in the first place, nor why it has been consistent.  For a while I'd had dreams that that relationship had ended.

Okay, where do I want to go with this?  First, I don't have any real-world reason for thinking anything of the sort about her, and I have no clue how this notion got into my imagination.  Second, I'm not attaching any claims of ESP to it.  It's probably some facet of my psyche that a psychiatrist would have a field day with.  Third, and this might be the most important, I no longer give a fuck whether discussing it would make Dana uncomfortable.

I'm fine with BDSM roleplay.  To a degree, I also sorta get lifestyle dominants and submissives.  It's a grey area, not to invoke that godawful book and movie.  Whatever one's sexual identity, I get and respect how powerful it is to acknowledge and own it.  That said, some of the lifestyle people raise some red flags for their attitudes toward gender roles.  Acting out power roles is one thing, but there's a shit-ton of genuine misogyny out there - from both genders.  Some of these people scare me with their very real hatred and anger.

I'm not a lifestyle guy. I did consider it at one point in my life, and finally came to the realization that it would not make me happy.  I'd be happy exploring it with the right partners, though.  Either role, top or bottom. 

I wanted to be Dana's lover.  Moot point now.  And it needs re-iterating, I have no clue who Dana is sexually.  Not her orientation, not her fetishes, not her prejudices.   Could be asexual or burnt out for all I know.  I always wanted to know, though, as far back as school.  That would have been heaven if I could have explored that with her.  For that matter, I wanted her to know that side of me too, wished she would have been curious to explore it about me.  So I will confess that as far back as Franklin I had a few fantasies about Dana as a dominatrix. 

What's curious to me is that I have never had a dream of Dana as a dominant.   Actually, that's not quite true:  I did have one.  I was in my bedroom, and she was suddenly there dressed in shiny black latex.  I got the stark imression that she wanted to shock me, to see how I would react...but that she actually wasn't in the frame of mind to actually play the role.  And when I lay myself on the floor before her, ready to submit, she looked embarrassed and disappeared as if she were physically backing out of the dream as fast as she could.  It was supposed to have been a provocative joke on me, and it backfired on her.

A few mornings ago I had a dream in which Dana was in my bedroom, in my bed.  I stood to the side as witness - she was being dominated by a man and a woman.  The point was to get a reaction from me.  The man was a cypher, not even described by the dream.  The woman was sitting on Dana's face, about to ejaculate.  The woman looked into my eyes, smiling, waiting to see what I would do.  I bent down to her, my face next to her cheek and said just loud enough for her to hear me, "Do it.  Do it all over her face."

The two  details that strike me aren't the obvious ones.  One is that I never actually saw Dana herself in the dream.  She was there but we never interacted.  It was abut her, yet my view was blocked by the woman on top of her.  It was this woman, a dream-creation meant to represent no one real, who seemed real - had a very real presence and sentience.  As if Dana were in the dream but playing the part of the woman presenting this scene to me to see what my response would be.   Would I accept or reject what was going on?  If you are unfamiliar with  it's important to understand that such acts aare consensual.  This wasn't rape, this was sex.  Dana was posited as a submissive, not a victim.  If you're not into BDSM, you need to be clear on the difference.  For that matter, if you are into BDSM then it's even more imperative that you know the difference.  Anyway, when it came down to it, I accepted Dana as a submissive.

Now, I've never fantasized about her that way.  That's not my fantasy.  However, it might be hers.  I mean, how would I know...it might or might not. 

Now I think of it, it echoes another dream from the early 90s.  I stepped into a highrise apartment, many stories up.   Gorgeous dominatrix, Asian, was in the living room.  There was a man there, also a cypher and of no importance.  I knew what was to play out - the woman and the man had Dana tied up in the bedroom and were preparing to use her in an SM scenario.  The dream didn't get further than the woman and I making some explicit overtures to each other.  Dana never actually showed up in the dream, but the presence of the other woman was palpable.  The upshot was...well, flirting with the idea that I would be invited to join in their roleplay with Dana.

Which, for a relationship as unhappy and screwed up as Dana and mine has been, that's a strange thing to dream.  I keep using the word uncomfortable. 

That's another point, I've never had a dream where she desired to be submissive to me personally.  Which of course makes sense,  people usually feel extremely awkward having people they went to school with know anything about their sexual personae.   The two dreams above are the only ones I can recall in which she was willing to allow me to witness or possibly participate. There may have been more, I don't remember (edit: no, there was a third I can recall, not BDSM but rough sex).  There have been many more in which she acknowledged to me directly that she was involved in BDSM as a submissive...and in most of those, she was unhappy for reasons she could not

communicate.  Mostly, it always seemed to be an obstacle to her talking to me.  Like, she was not "permitted" by her owner to contact me.  When I tried to set her free from her cages, she was either afraid to leave  or resented my interference.
Okay...my reaction. 

I wanted to be a lover.  I was only a friend, but there was a brief moment, a window I thought was open.  Shifting metaphors, my ship came in and then sank in the harbor before I could board.  But I wanted to be with her. I wanted her to think of me as hers. 

I'm really quite jaded sexually.  That doesn't mean I'm into everything, but I'm not judgemental about anything that is consensual and non-destructive.  Some aspects of SM I'm turned on by, some I'm not.  for example, being a Master doesn't strike any particular chord with me. "Owning" a woman - aside from the clear objection that no one, no one, is property - has never been attractive.  On the other hand...well, see, that's a hypothetical.  What turns me on is the woman's sexuality itself.  If something turns her on, I'm turned on by her response to it.  If a woman is submissive, I can happily walk her past her inhibitions until she is naked in more ways than merely physically.  B&D or rough sex, I get the catharsis it can be, the release - psychological, emotional, sexual.  I respect it.  Whatever gets her off is good.  I want to share it.  There are few things as powerful.

That's what sex is for me at its fullest: not the fetish, not the act, but the woman who can share the things that get her there as well as the need behind it.  That I respect.  That I treasure.  That takes courage.

Because I've been in love with Dana, and honestly because I am a human being with my own personal sexual nature, I wish that I could have learned whatever that side of her own nature is.  If she is the woman I've seen in my dreams, I wish I could have shared that with her.  I've never wanted to own her, but I would have responded to something so breathtakingly intimate and personal.  I'd have cherished it.  Whoever it is she is with the people she shares her sexuality with, I'd have loved that woman.

These dreams of her being owned have sparked mixed feelings in me, many of them negative...I want to think it's because the dreams themselves have been negative rather than the dreams being negative because I balk at her belonging to someone.  Jealousy is a factor, of course.  I loathe jealousy, I've been there.  But I don't want to think of her as someone who could ever be owned, I prefer to see her as autonomous.  Her sexuality is one thing, her life itself...I have my prejudices.   And like I said, most of those dreams showed her unhappy.  I want her freedom for her sake, but for my own as well. 

I'm haunted by the idea that she would ever agree to anyone telling her she must treat me as she has done, with such cruelty as she knows damn well she has inflicted.  Being told whom he can and cannot speak to, and her submitting no matter that it hurts people who love her...  Specifically, I'm disturbed that she might agree to such an order - some sick idea that she owes some Master  my pain, or that it is something she thinks she has a right to give...that she would betray someone who loves and cares about her for no better reason than that she was told to, out of some sick misunderstanding of what real loyalty is...  If there's any chance this is what has happened in real life, I wish someone credible would tell me so that I can get on with hating the soulless bitch for it.  It would be unforgiveable.  And if it did happen, and she has any hope of us ever reconciling, then she'd best lie her ass off about it.

Is this all some bizarre bug playing out in my head?  Is there anything to it?  I'd like to know either way.  I'm tired of these dreams.  It's mine to explore, and it's too bad I have to explore it alone.  I don't a shit anymore if it embarrasses her.  She might as well have always been a figment of my imagination.  She's certainly not a friend.

Bluntly, I'd like to know what makes her wet.  Leather?  Balloons?  Clowns?  Bath oils and cooing?  Dirty talk?  Men, women?  Something nasty, or soft, or silly?  Do fluffy bunny slippers get her off?  Whatever it is might not do anything for me but knowing that it pushes her buttons would.  I feel free to ask these questions now.  She chose for us to be aliens from each other.  She's not in my life, just a figment of my mind.  She's as remote as someone glimpsed in a foreign newspaper.  She's a poisonous, destructive muse.

My sincerest wish for her.  If there is anyone in life she actually has human feelings for,  someone she loves and trusts, I dearly hope that person treats her with the same selfish, cowardly cruelty with which she has treated me.  I hope that person  cuts her off cold, walls her out, and will not utter a word of explanation.  I hope her tears go unanswered for the rest of her very long, unhappy life, wondering why.


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