Sunday, February 27, 2011
“There is no
art in turning a goddess into a witch, a virgin into a whore, but the opposite operation, to give dignity to what has been scorned, to make the degraded disireable, that calls for art or for character.”
via
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
At [its] heart,
this is about celebrating pornography and masturbation. It is an opportunity for ladies of all genders (or however you identify) to open up a dialog: What is feminist porn? What is your history with porn? What do you find hot?
And ultimately it’s a dare to share your hot links. Because the more we can openly talk about porn and what we like, the more likely it is that porn for women will continue being made. And really guys have been sharing and recommending porn for ages! So help a sister out.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
It seems, in
fact, that there's only one thing to be ashamed of in this environment, and that's being someone without a kink -- a vanilla. And it takes our group's comparatively handsome would-be spanker about 20 seconds to diagnose us, correctly, with this malady. "I'm not entirely a vanilla," I start to object. Then I realize I don't know if "vanilla" in this context is a noun or an adjective (is it "I'm not a vanilla" or "I'm not vanilla"?), which causes me to abandon my pathetic attempt to fit in. "Yes," I finally say, glancing at the bottles of hand sanitizer in between all the Swedish fish and sandwiches on the refreshment table. The scent of cold cuts wafts under my nose as I add, "I am vanilla. A vanilla."
via
via
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
NB/Charlotte, I caught
your piece on Salon today and ended up captivated by your diaries, reading most of your journal in a few hours. I think that perhaps women who write to you wishing to be you may not mean it in a literal sense, at least not consciously. The way that you write, the feelings that you express are universal to our gender and our species and you do it with such poignant melancholy that it breaks and reunites the pieces of a person’s heart simultaneously. Maybe it’s the courage to act out all your roles for your clients that they envy, maybe it’s your ability to provide something intangibly essential to the life of another human being, even a stranger to you. It would be impossible to guess their real motivation for wanting to share your experience, but if I had to base it on anything I would begin first with my own reflections on your words.
There are some of us women who do desire nothing more than to pursue reading, writing, the art of being ourselves. We are, in a way, stuck within our own identities: small towns, monogamy, socio-cultural expectations. My envy of you lies in the desire to act upon the observation of the human condition in the way that your work captures so explicitly. I can write a hundred, a thousand poems. I can hold the man that I love at night and be what he needs when he needs it, but I can’t walk away in exploration. My life is a linear perspective of love, loss, and a deep overwhelming desire to experience everything, to soak it up like a sponge and write it down with hurried passion before it drains from memory. But in many ways I am running in place; not unhappy, not concerned about money, but entangled in my own personal life. I can’t put on a new identity like a dress or seek out to heal another person in the same way that you can, even though you might not call it healing I can imagine that for many of the clients you see that it feels that way to them.
Just food for thought… But I do want to say thank you for allowing us the window of your words to look into your life from an anonymous distance.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
When I woke
Monday morning, I had made up my mind. We would keep Wonder. That's the thing about living with an optimist: You realize you are one, too, somewhere deep down. You realize life and love is all about risk and doing the illogical sometimes. Why must I always be the rational one, I thought all night. The sane one. Why do I always fight everything? I too often see the impossibility rather than the possibility. Why do we too often have to be adults, and see not the path but the obstacles? Our childhood wonder is knocked from us at too early an age. Act like a grown-up, do the logical thing. Even when your heart is telling you otherwise.
here
here
The irony is
that when women do perform this charade of male fantasy, in hopes of being a successful sex object, the response can be intensely negative. According to Rothbart, dudes kind of freak when their girlfriends start acting like porn stars: "They don't want their real women and their fantasy women to inhabit the same body." The cynical take is that this is a sign that even the porn generation isn't ready to leave behind the whole wife-whore dichotomy. More charitably, though, I think it might just be that fantasies are sexy because they aren't real.
here
here
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
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