relationships

ArtsFestivalsStage

After speaking with Rick Mercer the week before the Just for Laughs festival hit Montreal, I had high hopes for the show he was hosting. Comedy Night in Canada was unfortunately a disappointing mishmash of ethnic clichés and other safe topics that left me starving for the edginess that so beautifully defined the other shows I’d seen at Just for Laughs this year.

The roster of Comedy Night in Canada consisted of Mercer, Salma Hindy, Sophie Buddle, Ivan Decker, Dave Merheje, and Eman El-Husseini, whom I remember back when she was waitressing at the now defunct (due to a fire) Comedyworks club in Downtown Montreal. I must applaud the producers of this show for sticking with Canadian comedians, while not shying away from ethnic diversity, making the show reflective of the Canadian Mosaic. That said, I desperately wanted to love this show and I couldn’t.

The material most of the comedians stuck with was brutally safe, and often repetitive. Dave Merheje, whom I’ve interviewed in the past, stuck with family anecdotes and jokes about his own ethnicity, as did Salma Hindy. Ivan Decker and Eman El-Husseini’s stuff was about relationships and mundane activities. Sophie Buddle mainly rehashed the jokes she’d used in The Nasty Show.

Only Mercer and El-Husseini were about to add some edge to their comedy. El-Husseini’s joke about having a boy means having a child “that will masturbate all over your house” was funny, but it came too little too late in her set. Mercer’s material on conversion therapy, naming public property, and the dullness of space were by far the edgiest and funniest the show got.

It must be said that the quality of the comedy cannot be blamed entirely on the cast of Comedy Night in Montreal. As me and my plus one settled in our seats, we saw a sea of Baby Boomer and elderly mainly white faces.

When I saw the cost of the tickets, I understood that the audience was indicative of the generational and racial wealth gaps. The comedians who performed that night were clearly pandering to this audience, and the quality of the jokes suffered for it.

If Comedy Night in Canada comes back, I want the roster to unleash their inner beasts and come out with material that’s actually funny and not just comfortable for white Boomers who love ethnic clichés and bashing young people. I’ve seen these comedians do better and I want them to.

AdviceCultureSex

Its so easy to get stressed out when fighting with and/or god forbid in the process breaking up with your partner. You both think you are right. They said things they will probably regret later, calling you all the names in the book, and now accept no fucking blame for this whole thing. You look them in their stupid dumb ridiculous goofy beautiful fucking face and just want to smash it into oblivion.

In that moment it is hard to imagine how much you actually still love them because you are blinded by the rage of right now. It burns bright.

Please take a moment to ponder not killing them, step back. Be the stronger person and hold back your fierce rage fueled fury.

Although it seems like a not so gentle punch to the gut, a stinging slap in the face, or swift kick in the nuts would cause you instant satisfaction, you probably should take a step back and remember that you are both adults here. It is so healthy to express your emotions, even if it is uncomfortable, but do it with words and not fists. Violence is not the answer!

1. Breathe

Its always best to step back and breathe. Oxygen makes our brains work. Even chug a glass of water.

Make sure all of your things are lubed and ready to be wise. Get your body calm and relaxed.

Tension isn’t healthily for anyone. Stepping back and focusing on the in and out of your lungs will make you feel so much better.

2. Smoke a joint

After you take some deep breaths, breathe something else in. The best thing I can do to chill the fuck out is to smoke a little bit of sweet maryjane.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, well then have a cup of tea? I don’t know what to tell you, but weed is the number one killer of shitty feelings and bad arguments.

I feel 100% better about every situation when I light up. It’s like all my troubles melt away for that short second.

Offer the person you are fighting with a puff. Perhaps you will reach a resolution over this thoughtful peace pipe offering. You will both be more calm and collected.

3. Scream as loud as you can into the abyss

I once had a co-worker who would go into the back room and yell at the top of her lungs like she was on a roller coaster when a customer pissed her off. It is the best way to blow off steam.

Scream into the cave of infinity. It will feel like a thousand orgasms, releasing all the negativity into the world instead of yelling at a person. Primal scream therapy is real.

4. Eat dark chocolate

It is proven that chocolate triggers the same things in your brain as sex. Dark chocolate is really good for you, especially if it’s the vegan kind.

It is antioxidant rich and actually lowers your blood pressure. Also I read that you get higher if you eat it 40 minutes before you smoke weed, so maybe try this step before step #2.

5. Masturbate

Hate sex is one thing, but hate jerking off is a horse of a different color! Nothing is more stress releasing than diddling your own skittle.

Nobody knows what you want or need more than you baby! Everyone needs the good touch, especially when angry or emotional. Get that vibrator out and tell the world you are your own lover.

Masturbating is healthy and helps you with sexual discovery. Think about the random person in your sexy dream or that Greek god that you saw at the grocery store. Your hand or dildo is all you need to be happy. Independent bliss.

Other things I can think of are going to the beach or wherever your happy place is. Being in nature is so calming and grounding. It makes us remember how small we are.

Listen to music, the louder the better, and dance your ass off. Exercise, yoga, and cleaning are also positive ways to blow off negative energy.

Use the energy for good instead of evil. If distraction is your game then look at boobs on the internet, there are an endless supply.

I also like to write. Writing angry poetry is a great way to get over someone. Look up new adjectives to dislike them with.

Fuck that asshole and focus on the positive! Self love and care is what you need. Take time to think about how good the sun feels beating on your skin or how good it tastes to bite into a juicy tangerine.

Take a bath or get a massage. Think about the feeling you get right after a new hair cut or when you get a really good hug from someone.

Hold your head high and let your mind be free. Now that you are cool and collected you can turn the argument into a conversation, and if you get mad again, go back to #1 and start over.

* Featured Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis via Flickr Creative Commons

AdviceCulture

Communication is the key to success, they why is it so hard sometimes? It’s a rusty skeleton key. Say what you are feeling and you will feel better. Tell them what you want or you are never going to get it. Ask, and you shall receive. Listen to your heart, but more importantly listen closely to what others are saying, you are not the center of the universe.

Kindness is sharing time and being compassionate, spreading more than just your legs, scattering radical love and positivity. Be open with your emotions, feeling is important, even the deepest hurt is temporary.

There is a love waiting for you, this unrequited veil will pass in the night without much notice. But remember, even the highest high is also temporary. Hold the good times close. Make art about them. Keep them in your heart for those cloudy days of old age.

Be an active listener by being patient and attentive. Look them in the eyes. Stop texting your arguments and actually have them.

Take action. Get in the car. Go to Mardi Gras. Kiss the girl. Kiss her in the rain, kiss her in the tent as it’s about to blow away, kiss her in the car, kiss her on the forehead, kiss every crevice of her, and even kiss her eyes while she sleeps warm next to you.

She fills the hole in your heart that normally would take years of therapy to mend. Never forget the moment you stood there and saw oblivion in each others’ embrace.

Life is fucked up. Death is always knocking. I am not afraid of it, not really. I am more afraid of the debt collectors that won’t stop calling my parents house and the junkies who need $5 for a buzz that will never satisfy them.

I want to live and change the world, I want to be known, I want to be remembered. I want to be more than just a Facebook account. Living in a closet screaming in silence is not the way to exist. Working in a cubicle day in and out in the town you were born is cruel and unusual punishment for a job well done. I want to feel like a new born baby, taking on the day as if it’s the first time I saw light.

Love is a unparalleled high. Drugs can be an escape from our own bitter realities. I am scared to try DMT, aka the death molecule, an intense psychedelic, because that feeling is the best feeling in the world. You earn it after a long life. It is your reward for dying with conviction.

Feeling the death molecule early by way of some drug scientist’s experiment seems sketchy. I don’t want to feel death. I want to feel life!

We are all dying, inching closer to the end with each lovely breath. We have no idea what’s next, even if you believe in more or nothing, it’s all uncertain. All that is completely certain is this moment. Breathe in and out, make sure to smile. I want to live on that rooftop with my lover and overlook our vivid dreams of sunsets and waterfalls.

This moment is fragile, so many variables are keeping it afloat. I really do not know what I want.

It’s baffling to think that I have lived for 31 years in the darkness of my own wants and needs. I guess I never really took much time to consider what I require to succeed.

WHAT THE FUCK DO I WANT? All of my needs are met and material bullshit does not matter. I do know what is important to me: my family, my friends, my cats, the earth, food not bombs, art, and freedom!

My roots dig deep but perhaps one day I will find new soil to plant them in. I will never know if I don’t explore it. I know I can change. Becoming vegan and caring more about community service, solidarity for all causes, recycling, composting, using non aerosols, and giving up glitter and bottled water is just the start. I met a human that makes me better and aim to love her the best I can, with openness and honesty.

I have never been to counseling, but know a lot of humans who swear by it. It would feel incredible to have someone listen and give educated advice.

I bottle things up and run away from all hurt, repress and push away anything that causes my happy heart pain. One foot solid on the ground, anchored, unwavering. Meanwhile the rest of me is a balloon that has lost its string, floating toward oblivion, only to end up in the ocean strangling a fish that hasn’t been born yet. It’s bizarre to be so grounded and so lost at the same time.

I can’t be consumed by the what ifs if I never try. You don’t know how to live unless you go for it. Try all the things, take the leap, scream into the endless cavern of life. The echo is you from a moment ago and you are not alone.

All I have ever wanted was love, but I don’t know how to do it. I don’t really know what makes me happy until it is happening.

For me it was always easy to think about polyamory as a single person. Jealousy and fear are all internalized bullshit. I know that the only way to move past it all is unwavering communication.

The butterflies haven’t been in my belly for years. I think age consumed them. The love I feel now is better, it flutters with truth and understanding, it is a feeling of safety and admiration.

Nobody has ever told me that they appreciate me. I appreciate being appreciated.

Real love is consent and constant. It is wanting to work on things when one is feeling off, it is changing the path to make your lover feel more safe and free in your arms. Love is not a prison or a cage for your heart.

Free Love? I certainly won’t pay for it. I have been alone for so long that it feels strange to work on a relationship. I am feeling this wave of change. Slowly creeping monsoon of repair and washing away regret.

It is easy to look back at the corpse of a relationship and see what went wrong. You can pinpoint the moments where you could have stepped up, you could have taken a stand and stood up for them or given some extra care.

I remember laughing at someone I once loved when they told me a deep truth, they were vulnerable and real and I didn’t know how to handle it. I could have hugged them and let them know it was okay. Instead I left a wall between us.

Each experience has brought me to here and now, it made me ready for what’s to come. I have learned to talk more. Adventure beyond all wonder and belief, a love with passion that will last forever, starts with communication.

Now that wall has come down, brick by brick, falling rubble of yesterday’s tears. I want to relinquish all fear and stop being paranoid of abandonment. I am enough, I am worth it.

Self hate and emotional deprivation is tragic. Self destruction runs deep when you grow up fat, but honestly we probably all feel that way. It doesn’t matter what you look like, there will always be someone you think is prettier, skinner, younger, smarter, and more worth it. That’s a lie, that’s society dividing us. We are better than our misdirection.

I want to open up. I want to cut through my emotional blockage with a machete. Years of filth won’t get clean overnight, I need emotional renovation.

This time it’s worth it. I have learned from past heartache. Finally I am chosen! Let’s stay together and make it work this time.

I need to say what’s on my mind. If I communicate it will be okay. Take the stitches out of my lips and the duck tape off of my ears.

It’s time to open up. It’s time to feel and evolve. I need to talk with my parents, my lover, my friends, my roommates, my co-workers, and the people I meet in everyday life.

You should do it too! Take this chance to clear the cobwebs out of your mouth. Once you speak up it is addicting.

AdviceCulture

Don’t panic. No, actually, its ok to panic!

There are a few moments in life that are completely mortifying. This is one of them if you deal with it improperly. That awkward moment when your current squeeze meets yesterdays squeeze and has no fucking idea.

Of course it makes sense that people you are attracted to will be attracted to each other in some way, but come on! What are the chances? I once walked into a bar and felt like it was the fucking Twilight Zone because everyone in there was in my pants at some point in time…

Oh hey person I lost my virginity too talking to my super ex from 3 years ago and the girl I have a crush on! Oh hey girl I made out with on the pride gay train six years ago holding hands with that other human I had fireworks with last year. Maybe I’m a whore, maybe I live in a small town, but sometimes it’s uncanny.

It is even more difficult to navigate bars and parties during the holidays. People who are normally far far away come home to make your life hell. You never know who you are going to run into, or who is related to who. We all have the same circle of friends. Everyone fucks everyone or at least knew someone who fucked that person or whatever. It’s a crazy twisted web. Le sigh.

Lets just use this scenario: You are seeing someone new. You meet them for coffee and talk about where you work. He says, omg, I know someone who works there! Do you know (insert name here, we will use “Lady X” to protect the innocent)? You respond with, why YES, I know Lady X! She just so happens to be marrying my super ex, like the person I dated for a bunch of years, she ACTUALLY cheated with him while he was dating me, she fucked him while he was with me and now the are getting married, oh yea and she is pregnant with his evil demon seed, RIGHT? (heavy breathing and hair disheveled at this point)

Sips coffee like nothing happened. Strange kind of serial killer smile on your face. Eye is twitching.

“Ummmmmmmm, yea,” is all they say in response to your manic tantrum. She was like a friend of a friend he knew in high school, hasn’t seen her in years, and definitely had no need to know all of that drama llama. You done fucked up son. You clearly shared too much and created a crisis where it didn’t need to happen.

Too much sharing is not caring. This is uncomfortable and bad for all involved. It’s hard, though. People put you in a spiral, you are entangled in that history, triggers are real!

Let’s try a different scenario: playing it cool. You have to work and your new love goes to your favorite bar. She sees a band and thinks you will like them. She even goes as far as singing the lyrics to one of their fucking songs.

Of course one of the members of said band is someone you used to be creepily obsessed with in an unrequited way. Of course you know all the words to all of their songs, you have been a groupie, you have been more than a groupie. You used to go to sleep at night with this person’s face behind your eyes, thinking that the world would end because they didn’t love you back. Relationships were severed and things got WEIRD… but you won’t tell her that.

There was a time when you would have told that whole thing to anyone with ears. Now you remain silent. Do you tell her that the former love of your life is in that band and that their songs are all triggers and that you probably have PTSD and are lucky that you can even love again after this?

You can do it. Hold back the urge to share all the gooey unrequited love and gory nasty breakup deets. All of this happens in one moment, a moment that may seem insignificant to your significant other but definitely seemed to go on forever in your broken little mind.

You play over all the ways it can work out, bite your tongue. Don’t go into this right now, it’s a terrible sad idea that will ruin your current bliss. You will spiral back to the depths of a sad abyss where there is still hope with your old flame.

This is NOT a sign that the universe wants you to crawl back into the hell hole. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THAT! BE STRONG! This urge is stronger than heroin. You pause before saying simply “Yeah, I’ve heard of them”… crisis averted. Good girl.

Holding back certain details is not lying. It’s being healthy. Some things really don’t matter in the present time. Relish in your current joy. It is over for a reason. Moving on is good.

Don’t let that black cloud follow you forever. Let the sun shine in. Expel the negativity forever and focus on the beating heart that loves you back right now. Maybe in the future have a conversation about it, but it probably isn’t even necessary.

Wipe that space in your mind clean, clear the clutter, and let your wings flutter. Live life in the moment. It’s a fantastic day to be alive.

CultureSex

How did I get here? This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife.

On getting so wasted that you have to ask a friend to re-cap your night:

Starting the night looking like a well polished scary neon clown and ending it looking like a juggalette that gave too many blow jobs and has a five o clock shadow. She sat on the porch grinning in the darkness on Halloween night.

“It was a night. Stuff happened. Let’s sleep on the couch and watch scary movies.” Two minutes later she is ass up on her bed with her adorable lace panties (on top of her leggings) exposed. Bloody hands and an unlocked bike.

Goodnight sweet clown, we will talk in the morning. I love that human more than words can explain, as I say in shows, I masturbate over her while she sleeps. Jk.

So, um. What is up with running in your ex on Halloween at basement punk shows?

This holiday seems to bring out everyone you have ever fucked or wanted to fuck and place them in the same crusty basement as you. My bestie once threw a punch at her ex in a mosh pit, “You better be drunk.” She did it because he was an asshole and she was drunk. Runs into the same ex wearing his “appropriate” undersized Misfits tee and acid wash mom jeans.

I remember one Halloween running into someone I excommunicated from my life, he immediately put his arm around me (and wasn’t wearing a costume mind you, fucking pathetic). I quickly lifted it off. I was very proud of myself in that moment. I came a long way to physically lift him off me.

My friend saw it go down and was going to come save me, but I did it myself before she had the chance. It is important to stay true to your convictions.

I am trying to write this while listening to my roomie watch a horror movie, she figured she would get it in the day after. I have such a visual mind that what I am imagining is probably worse than what is actually on the screen. Or not, shit is brutal these days. Horror flicks are all about that gore. I have a hard time with anything past Evil Dead, the first 15 Scream movies, Chucky, Freddie, Jason, and all the classics. Modern horror just grosses me out.

It’s either raining or the Babadook is outside. I was stoned watching scary movies all night and my other rookie’s boyfriend came over, I heard him on the porch and around back, but he didn’t knock, he was texting her and she was asleep.

I picked up a giant stick and was going to beat his ass with it until he said who he was. Real gore on beggars night. Glad that didn’t happen. Don’t scare couch stoners. We are delicate creatures.

I will always be a fan of Tim Curry as It. I based my routine on It for the She Lives Whorer 2 Show. The next day I was Trump and sat on a toilet I had to carry down three flights of stairs with my lady. We were covered in poo water for art.

Trump is more frightening than Pennywise the dancing clown because THAT SHIT IS REAL. News is the scariest fucking truth!

You know what else is real? The Midnight Meat Train, Bradley Cooper’s first starring role and he is a vegan climbing on carcasses running from an evil butcher. I couldn’t stomach it and had to write this blog.

I will watch some stand up or a lighthearted rom com with her after as a reward. Not knowing anything about the movie I decided that the meat train was a drunk forgotten night gone wrong, or maybe a gay gang bang porno, possibly a special steak hoagie, or a GO VEGAN PSA! Yeah thats it.

Spoiler alert…

Weird, it was about lizard people the whole time.

CultureSex

Sometimes things happen, life happens, a kiss on the cheek turns to lust, turns to action, then a break of trust. How can you navigate heartache and bliss within yourself and every other person that your current person has ever slept with?

I am guilty of a disregard or lack in judgement, not caring about eventual consequences while in the moment. I didn’t make anyone want me. They acted first. They wanted me and I am solely to blame? I don’t think so. It takes two to tango sister.

Sure, I could have said something and put the nail in the coffin sooner, but thats not what I wanted. I knew it was going to be the eventual outcome, so I got deeper and deeper into deceit. Keeping out the details.

I lost a friend because I slept with her ex. Plain and simple. I never planned it and certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It happened, I knew that as soon as it came to a head I would lose a friend over it. I just did my best while I was in her life and I hope everything else works out. I know she feels betrayed and thinks I’m a piece of moldy trash.

In reality I thank him for coming clean. I am glad to not be living with a secret, full disclosure is important to any relationship. Losing friends is a good time for emotional spring cleaning. I cannot and will not talk to either of them ever again. There is no coming back from this.

All of the anger and hate is focused on me because she is still in love with him. She can forgive him because she wants to claim him forever. That’s fine, he loves her too, they can be a beautiful entity forever. I never wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. It was just a fleeting moment.

It is not right to put it all on my shoulders, that says that he is just an object, thoughtless, incapable of fucking up. We cannot let people off the hook for the decisions they have made. He left her before he kissed me. Of course I am not innocent, I could have said no, but I didn’t. I am not entirely to blame either.

I am a deviant slut and he is an angel. I am to blame for everything. This is everything that feminism fights against. Relationships are not property! I do not claim to manage any of my partner’s sexuality. That is rape culture. I did not force anyone to want me. I did not put a magical spell on them or throw myself at them.

Blaming “the other woman” is toxic, competitive, and oppressive. We are pitted against each other to compete for a small crew of “good men”. Women get chastised and blamed even by other women. Shame the slut and cast her away like a used condom.

How can you hold claim over someone when you had someone else? You can’t “keep” every person that you have ever been with. I know the “bro” code is a thing, but I don’t truly understand because people are not objects. You do not own the person you are dating, especially after a break up. Relationships are a daily choice, a mutual trust, not an obligation. Things change.

Every action has a reaction. I have never pursued a person who was in a relationship, but someone who is single and willing and barking up my tree doesn’t come along every day. I have been single for a very long time, never really looking, just waiting to see what comes next in the adventure.

I have come to the conclusion that this city is too small (I mean this city as any city). This world is too small and everybody is somebody’s ex. I can’t change the past. I will live in the smite zone and must deal with the fact that someone I used to love feels that I am a succubus-swine-dirty-cunt-homewrecking-whore.

Culture

I hear a beautiful song or poem or painting or glance

It touches my heart
Then I want the artist to touch my body
Skillfully
Artfully
Fully

Spend time on me like a painting
Write our present moment like a song
Give my kisses the passion of a poem

I just want to know him
She is too beautiful to tell
I see the girls that strike their fancy
Hell
They look nothing like me

But I know that art is meant to make that feeling feel real
And I am not special
I am seduced like the others

You are the electric tangerine stripe in a cobalt sky just after sunset
You are the poppyseeds in my teeth
The barbeque sauce on my fingers
Delicately licked
Smacked
Sucked
Sticky

They will tear you apart
Until there is nothing left but your art
Open wide with a price tag
Vivisection connection
There on display for mass consumption

I see
Obsession in the third degree
I have a problem where I think the world revolves around me

But the art you made was for a girl you knew growing up
The song was about a stranger on the subway
Something you heard in a dream
Perhaps an ex or a fantasy

Not me
It was never about me.

…

As an artist myself, I am often surprised at how I fall in love with the sparkles of hope in someone’s soul bearing words or visuals. Every time I feel duped by shiny pretty lights. Smoke and mirrors.

I often wonder if someone has ever felt that connection to me? Has someone thought I was out of their league? Saw my art and fell in instant love, lust, glee, watched my ass jiggle on stage, or heard me read a poem for the first time, perhaps even reading this blog.

I hope to connect with the broken hearted but not to break more hearts. I sit here alone at every art opening and poetry reading, every concert and play, just hoping that this one time it IS about me, and I will live happily ever after with the artist of my dreams.

Every person I have loved is an art maker, a shaker, an artful faker, and a heart breaker. I need to be with an artist because I know they are capable of passion. Life must be lived with absolute passion, careful thought and careless blocks of paint and color, words that stop wars.

Musicians are the worst. I fall for them so easily, so hard. It’s like their words and sounds touch places inside me that cannot be touched by mere mortals.

Drummers hold a beat in the bedroom, guitarists and piano players are good with their fingers, songwriters and poets write lyrics better than sex, they linger. The everlasting embrace of creativity that enraptures me, seduces me, envelopes me in thoughts that are dangerous to my mental health.

I have no stealth. I clumsily love those who are floating on their own clouds. They all have hot girlfriends now, but not when I started. I feel eternally broken-hearted. I love so hard it blinds me, then when I see it’s truly embarrassing.

I do get sad. It’s unavoidable. The pandora stations I listen to are based on all of my past relationships, people I have dated, girls I have had crushes on. It’s not like I want to go back to any of them, I know everything ends for a reason. But I think what if I ran into him at the Pink? What if I looked up and saw that familiar pout? Would I brush the hair from his forehead and kiss him like I did a thousand times before? Would it feel the same?

I took it for granted, didn’t know it was going to end, did’t really have any expectations, I never do. I never know who is going to make my chest tingle, these people are few and far between. I don’t just pounce, I long, I wonder, I let things pass me by. I never think I am anyone’s “type”, do people have types? I don’t! I walk through life haphazardly bumping into people until one of them makes me tingle, then I cling to them like static and never say a word until, of course, it’s too late.

What happens when your current crush likes all the bands that your ex liked? Then who will the songs remind you of? Both simultaneously methinks. The good times are killing us while the bad times consume our souls. It is unrelenting and never ending.

I elevate my crushes so it’s easier to feel that way about someone who is already on the stage. Looking down on me and my insecurity, they have no idea how much love is bursting from my seams. My skin is going to explode and a ball of light is going to shoot out of me.

I need to love others, share the light, stand up and fight, words like daggers can stagger through the night. Putting people on a pedestal is wrong, they are just human. If I never tell any of them how I feel, is the feeling real? Or is it just something that lives and dies inside of me, a waxing moment of passion, gone in a flash.

Even this pain will fade, the colors will blur with new love and possibility. It will turn grey and shrivel. Lather, rinse, repeat. I will never stop loving musicians, poets, painters, photographers, and creators. Even if it hurts, it’s worth it to feel that moment of special. They SEE you! To be loved by an artist you will forever be second to their art, because even love and sex don’t compare to expression!

Usually I am lost in my own art. I haven’t written about my heart lately because honestly I haven’t “felt” anything “real” in awhile. My heart has been too swollen with the reality that a young black man has been murdered by the police in my neighborhood. The president of my country is a cheeto demi-god complex fool who is making even more a mockery my country. 40% of the food is in dumpsters and children starve around the world and around the block from me. Transgender women are being targeted and murdered, they can’t even pee in peace. No Muslim or Jewish person is safe, neither is anyone of any distinguishing race. Animals are being tortured for consumption. Rape, slavery, bombs, wars, and lack of education are killing us and big corporate greed is demolishing our Earth at a rapid pace (not even the water is safe). I have no debt but still don’t know how I am going to continue to pay my bills. My grandpa has dementia, my best friend is racist, and my job is in jeopardy due to gentrification. How can I find time to be sad about my lack of a love life? There is no time to wallow, only to fight, and not forget to dream.

That’s why I fall in love with fellow artists, with those moments that make me forget about how hard things are. It is a selfish release. I want to live in their world, be part of that fanciful scene. I want to be the girl they knew in high school or the song they wrote in a dream. I want beauty, passion, and all that lies between. Bask in the spotlight together, the same kind of weird.

Pay attention to your heart, pay attention to art. Love uncontrollably, even if it hurts after, it was worth it. It will always be worth it.

 

CulturePolitics

I need to take my place in the revolution.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me and I’m Feelin Good”

-Miss Nina Simone

I feel like shit to be honest. What does it matter? The world is about to end. All of the post apocalyptic sci-fi movies are coming to fruition. The evil dictator is in place and the people will rise after the world burns and society as we know it is overthrown.

My heart is overgrown, split ends, over bleached, and arid dry. Like the acid sky, what does it matter if I cry? Again I choose the path of positivity, moving forward, crossing things off the bucket list. I need to do me, right? NO!

It’s Black History month in the darkest time of our current social climate. I want to be there to fight for freedom and acknowledgement of hate, I want to stop the white power bullshit that raised this country to the open levels of bigotry we see today. I can’t even stop my best friend from being racist.

America the beautiful was built on the destruction of Indigenous people and slavery. Immigrants came next, but it started with human bondage, then it was a safe haven, and not much has changed.

It has just gotten worse. Strange fruit and hate fueled power struggles and world poverty. More people care about celebrities and gossip than real world issues or the idea that people and animals are suffering while we live posh lives on the internet.

My people are all Gay, they are Transgender, they are non conforming, they are Native American, they are Black, they are Muslim, they are atheist, they are butch, they are femme, they are anarchists, they are addicted, they are homeless, they are vegan, they are white people who are trying to break the cycle. They are all ages, they are sex workers, they are on food stamps, they pay rent, they don’t get paid enough and work too many hours, and they are all slaves to the system built to fail us.

I sit here with EAT THE RICH written in eye liner on my belly, dreaming of gas masks and pink tear gas. I once painted a version of Marie Antoinette with a gas mask. This is it, our reality is that we have a war to fight, we can’t just let them eat cake! I assure you, nothing about me is fake.

Or is it? I am only human. Human means flawed by nature, and not in a catholic guilt original sin way either. Imperfections make us beautiful. That also means there is a dark to every light. There is a good happening to suppress evil as we sit here contemplating the existence of both.

From this moment, our numbness from over stimulation mass sensory overload outnumbers us. It closes in on us. It interrupts us like shitty commercials. I always knew twitter was creepy. We want a leader not a creepy tweeter was one of my favorite women’s march chants.

I yearn for a silence echoing inside the roots of my strange deepness, a vacant soul on a transient descent. The train has left the yard, next stop salvation.

Why can’t adults just take naps? For me it’s not a nap. I will spend the whole day in bed and waste the light, then go out and party all night. I may not even drink, but usually do.

It’s just a craving for company. Not even in a miserable way, just in more of a we are stronger together way. I need collaboration. I know that I cannot change this world without you.

I should relish in my singledom. I can pick up and go to Mardi Gras if I want, only a 24 hour drive away. I’ve been a temptress for so long, just floating through life without a care in the world. Now it crumbles and I need to stand up.

I tend to zone out and get disconnected from reality for a moment. I watch porn when I should be watching the Young Turks. I scan Facebook when I should be out on the street protesting or having a conversation with the human next to me.

Is it weird that I have dinner with my folks twice a week at age 30? Going to a hockey game with my dad tonight, now tainted because I know the owner of the Buffalo Sabres (Terry Pegula) got his money from FRACKING.

Our Earth and water are more important than any money or sports team. I just want to spend some quality time with my dad. Having a conscience means being conscious about where your money goes.

I want to only be ethical. Other people are having children. I will get a dog. I would have to move, get a new place, buy my own house.

I would love to live in the country. No wifi. No connection to the outside world. I would feel so much more connected to nature and not the devices that rule us all.

I need my furry family, I need a solace, someone to help me fight back but not lose myself in the battle. I want to date a vegan. Musician/artist necessary. Gender/race does not matter.

Think happy thoughts. Painting, riding my tricycle, doing my hair and makeup, dressing in drag, vegan cuisine, letting my friends borrow clothes, smoking bongs, things made out of recycled things, going on adventures with the most down people, nature and natural wonders, waterfalls, art, music, musicians.

I love my kittens. There is a reason why the Egyptians worshipped cats. So cute, cuddly, and protective. I do love life, I know I come from a privilege not known to everyone, and that means I need to step up and stop being greedy.

Things I hate: Coughing so hard from hitting the bong that you pee a little. Getting up to pee and somebody is in the bathroom. When people throw out/waste food. The fact that women make less than men for the same job. The fact that donald trump has been in office for a week and the world burns, pipelines, oil, greed, orange tans.

Sometimes I cry because I have psoriasis or because I am fat. I feel unlovable, like I am hiding behind my smile, head in the clouds, not what I seem, much more deviant, but not sure how.

I am a sensitive artist. What good do my pictures really do? Do my performances matter? Yes! Even if people hate, they can relate. I can be the worst version of humanity (trump drag/Cock Sinclair) or a vision of pure loveliness veiled in makeup and fishnet, bound by a corset and all of society’s expectations, ruled by old men in suits and misguided evil rich women.

I really wanted to write something non political this week but it is all consuming. The ban on immigrants is immoral and disgusting. Pushing forward the Dakota Pipeline is also inhumane and disrespecting mother earth and the indigenous people’s land.

Water IS Life. Not in Flint Michigan or the Buffalo Public Schools, it’s second rate there. This is like the movie/comic Tank Girl. Buffalo’s freshwater is so important for the apocalypse. Great lakes, great spot, like the wet spot on the sheets that Trump had a Russian hooker piss on in the name of freedom.

Dripping in gold or rust you must wake up and shake off the nonsense. Every voice counts. Be heard.

CultureDatingSex

So it finally happens, I meet someone who is brilliant and beautiful, funny, sweet, and holy shit INTERESTED IN ME. We talk all night, maybe even share an innocent kiss, and exchange numbers. I am excited for the first time in months.

Then BOOM, I do a teenie bit of Facebook stalking through our one mutual friend just to find out that they have a girlfriend. Dude, we live in a place and time where it seems that everyone is polyamorous. There is no need to lie to me or be unfaithful to your partner.

You have to be honest, and if you are poly but your partner is not, that throws a big curve ball into the situation. Perhaps rethink your monogamous relationship before bringing someone else into your shit. I have never cheated on someone I was dating.

My friend has gone through the same situation time and time again. After just ending a relationship where her mate came out as having a pregnant girlfriend at home, you would think her luck would get better. The next person she sleeps with is a good friend, who happens to be in an unhappy relationship that he won’t end. She then meets a handsome man at work, he flirts hard, they exchange info because he expressed interest in her show later that night.

Pretty quickly in he says that he has a girlfriend, he is “disappointed that he has a girlfriend,” waaaait, what? HE is disappointed? Then dump her and live your life! Don’t ever be with someone you are disappointed to be with, it’s not fair to her or you. My friend backed off on the conversation only to be textually bombarded by this same guy drunk a few days later begging her to come fuck him.

NO! Not allowed to do that. How dirty and second rate do you think she feels now? Gross bro, just stop.

I have another friend who knowingly had an affair with a married man. Now she feels like that’s the only people she attracts. It is definitely not her goal, she wants love like anyone else. Like they smell the mistress vibe on her or something. There is something about that, wanting to be with someone with no strings, knowing that they will never want more from you but the secret triste that is keeping them hard.

Often the mistress will get the best parts of their lover, they get the fantasy, the sex without the problems. They will also never get the support or companionship of a real relationship, but if that’s what you are looking for, it might be an ideal situation for you.

I remember hooking up with a guy I met on the internet a few years ago. We went on a few dates, he was so great, a poet, a musician, and a fun human. I called him “Big Jon” so you know the sex was amazing.

He must have written 100 poems about how beautiful I was in the short time we were together, I was smitten. He admitted to driving the wrong way on one way streets to get to my house sooner, he carried my bags and held the door for me. A total gentleman, until one night the truth came out.

After a session he said “I don’t want to smell like woman.” What? We just had sex, what to you expect to smell like? Flowers?

I asked him why and he said he didn’t want his wife to know about us. It must have been the whiskey and weed that made him so honest that night. It was the last time I ever saw him, I am NOBODY’S secret side bitch.

I actually did run into him in a dollar store maybe two months later. He had his son in the cart and a small, beautiful, tattooed woman with him putting stuff in the cart that I assume was his wife. They looked like a happy, functioning family.

I saw the panic in his eyes but just kept on walking without even acknowledging his existence. I am no home wrecker.

It’s a shock that people actually lie on online dating profiles, right? You know the guy who says he is 6’1 and single is probably 5’8 and married. There is no need to lie on these things, people are looking for all kinds of hook ups.

There are  websites dedicated to cheaters. Cheat with other cheaters! That’s a killer concept.

About a month ago I was at my favorite local watering hole when I saw man I had never seen before. He was beautiful, we danced, we chatted. He was a children’s book author!

I was in heaven, he touched my butt and kissed me and I thought, wow, finally an artist! Then all of a sudden he just said he couldn’t do this, no explanation.

I remembered the name of one of his books and googled him when I got home. He is married. Of course him and his wife write books together about their kids. Makes sense.

I do not accept being hidden in the shadows. You love me fully and out loud or you can’t have me at all. I am open to being with a polyamorous partner but have not successfully done so. I want to think that I can be open and communicate my needs, but it is not simple.

I know myself, I am passionate, I am all or nothing. I really want to be in love. I want to take care of someone, I want a human to love me, I want to be their serenity, I want to travel the world with someone who is proud to be with me.

Being single, I do have an active sexual lifestyle. I know I can get laid every day of the week if I really wanted to, but I don’t because I have respect for myself. I know that some people just want to get off and run.

Being single and beautiful makes me a target for assholes who put their wedding rings in their pocket on a Saturday night.

Married folks might be bored and I am certainly exciting. These people are looking for validation, they are looking for excitement, something that can often times be lost in long term relationships.

My availability is NOT an invitation. Just because I am single and looking does not mean I am looking for you, asshole. There is no burly football player boyfriend looming over me saying hands off buck, just lil ol me and my shining smile alone in the world.

I have learned to just hold out for what I want and never accept less. I will not compromise my morals for my libido. I will never knowingly take part in breaking up a relationship or marginalizing my own needs.

Maybe I should stop looking for love at bars? Or just come to terms with the fact that it seems most people over 30 are taken. Sadly, there is no way to safeguard yourself from these advances. Assholes happen, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!

We all deserve nothing but the best even though we must swim through a stream of shit to get there.

AdviceCulture

I’m a painter and a shaker. I am a cat watching shadows on the wall. Turning 30 at the Rise of the Apocalypse, the lead singer of a non existent band, a legend in my own mind.

Today I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t want to do anything with myself. I had a literal snow day yesterday, the kind kids dream of. I could have wrote a blog or cleaned my room and did none of the above. It was a two robe kind of day, bitter diamond cutter nipple cold house shaking wind and bizarre thundersnow.

The first blog I ever wrote for Forget the Box was about the infamous Knife Storm. It cut Buffalo in half, dumping on the south and nothing where I was. My city is famous for being buried in snow.

At the time I was seeing this cute bearded artist and he go stuck on the other side of the snow wall and ended up shacking up with some girl for a week. That should have been it. Another week later he was arrested in my car with her in the passenger seat.

I have never been so pissed off. I have the worst judgement. I met him by a bonfire at a music festival.

I have never understood how to be romantic, how to pursue someone, how to play it cool but show interest. I am insane, eternally 14, clueless about so much and misinformed about the remainder.

I always seem to say the wrong things, I take it too far, push the joke waaay farther then necessary. Awkward sauce. I feel like I was a puzzle piece that was dropped on the floor and then put in the wrong box and donated to a thrift store. I never quite fit. My life is a puzzle with one piece missing.

My roommate started doing a 1000 piecer the other day. It was a winter wonderland Christmas scene. She diligently worked on it all week. Every damn piece looks the same to me, all the colors seem to blur together. It juuussst doesn’t fit.

Puzzles have always frustrated me, but I know now that I need to learn how to be more patient and Zen when it comes to stuff like that. Do the outside and work inwards. Start with the parts that are easy. When completed it is sweet satisfaction.

At one point I started to help her and was encouraged when some things fit, the puzzle was already at like 87% completion, none of which I had helped on until this point. I quickly lost interest and just wanted to go get a drink before our favorite dive bar closed at 4am. So I took the remaining pieces and just piled them on top of the empty spaces. Exclaiming that we were done and deserved a treat, we went on to the bar to celebrate.

I stood there in the bar, a vision in my yellow dress with matching neon yellow hair. At one point there was a tall sexy man on either side of me, it was glorious. One I had kissed recently and the other was someone I have quietly crushed on for a bit (one of those people that seems so far out of my league). He swooped in and kissed me on the mouth. We danced. I felt like the queen of the ball. How could I chose between these two?

I don’t know what I want, forever confused. I used to like people because they liked me, I now know that it takes more than that to grab my attention. Feast or famine though, I ended up running into the dark cold night alone, cuddling with my sweet furry kitties, sobbing over my insecurities.

It’s hard for me to juggle the attention of multiple people. I am not used to the attention of one, let alone several. I am hesitant about polyamory.

I used to only fall for gay men, never attracted to the status quo. I love artists, musicians, writers, creative people who know how to express themselves, most likely full of internal torture just like me. I used to only desire tall men, but then shortly realized that tall guys only seemed to be into the shortest littlest girls in the world. I mean yes, it is cute to see a tiny person with a giant, and everyone is attracted to those they are attracted to, unapolegetically true, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

I love humans of ALL shapes and sizes, all genders and preferences too.  I see the world differently than when I was a kid, but I am still a giant seeking love. That’s all I want.

My dad wanted to take me Christmas shopping. I could think of NO THING that I wanted, no physical thing, I am not the little brat who wants a Barbie car anymore. I don’t want electronics or diamonds. I asked for storage so I can get my room in order and art supplies.

What I really want is for people to stop being racist, I want people to stop throwing out food and start caring about the hungry, I want love to spread like fire, I want the oppression felt worldwide to end. I know I have privilege, but what can I do to use it for the good of all? Spread it out between us all. We distract ourselves with the pursuit of sex and the magic of the holidays.

I am Bah-humbugging out here! It makes me sick to think of all the greed this time of year, hoards of undereducated drones playing with cellphones and tablets. Get your hands dirty and learn about diversity.

We all look at the headlines (or lack there of) and post a sad emogi on Facebook, we do nothing to change the world. We know how many shopping days till Christmas but play dumb about Aleppo, or Standing Rock, or police taking blankets from the homeless.

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter who I have kissed or what I do to pass the time, the only thing that matters is compassion and living life to its full potential. It is easy to get wrapped up in yourself. Take the time to open your eyes and focus on the world at large. Give your energy to righteous causes, fight for those who need a hand, see beauty even when some pieces are missing.

AdviceCulture

Ho Ho Ho… Celebrate your freedom!

Here are the top 10 reasons (in no particular order) why it’s better to be single during the holidaze.

10. You don’t have to choose whose family to go see on the holidays. You also do not have to deal with awkward family encounters.

9. You don’t have to buy anyone a present. You can buy something extra special for your mom, your cat, your bestie, or *gasp* yourself! No stress for buying that “perfect” gift for a significant or insignificant other. You also don’t have to pretend you like whatever thoughtless crap they bought you in return.

8. Kissing random people under the mistletoe. Get a piece yourself and use it as a conversation starter. Also bring breath mints and make sure there is no food in your teeth.

7. You can meet someone at a holiday party. I met my ex at a Christmas eve party and my life changed forever, in retrospect maybe not the best, but that relationship helped form who I am today. You really never know who you are going to meet. Be open.

6. You actually get to spend quality time catching up with the family. No weirdness trying to entertain your beau. Enjoy the friends and family you have in your life, love them, celebrate their importance in your life! I know I am blessed.

5. Take your own holiday portrait with your cats. Break out the ugly sweater and make your friends a personalized Christmas card they will never (ever) forget.

4. More champagne, wine, whiskey, and spiked nog for you! Sometimes caring (for yourself) is NOT sharing.

3. Get dressed up, FOR YOU! Everything sparkles this time of year. Light up your party fab wardrobe. Don’t ever regret the impossible rhinestone shoes. Glamour is everything, you deserve it.

2. Nobody is going to ask you when you are getting married or having babies! Bringing even a new person home can be the ultimate turn off when your drunk uncle goes off on a tangent or your mom grills away.

1. I know this may sound heartless-but hey. Lonely people around the holidays = lots of hook up opportunities. Take advantage of their sadness. It’s like Wedding Crashers when he started crashing funerals. Capitalize on those horny sad sexy people. Loneliness is amplified during the holidaze, cruising bars, holiday parties, and dating aps may bring you surprise singles bliss this holiday season.

Its getting bitter, nipple hard cold out there and the media is telling us to bundle up and pair off. We have been inundated with Christmas paraphanalia since before Halloween.

It is so shoved down our throats that I can’t take it. The idea of hearing Christmas music in October makes me want to kill.

Due to the suffocating holiday joy, I prefer to be the Bah Humbug she grinch. My shriveled, black heart still beats. I am single. I get sad like everyone else, but you can’t let it consume or cripple you with insecurities.

Even as I write this I have tears in my eyes, there are certain people I would like to decorate a tree with. But it’s ok. There is something beautiful about having no expectations. I spend most of my days off naked, making art, with my cats to keep me warm.

All I want for Christmas is for it to be over and be my birthday already. Commercially romanticized bullshit, cuddling in front of the fireplace, hand in hand ice skating. Blah blah blah, the holidays are stressful without the added pressure of making someone else happy.

I get sweaty easy and have weak ankles. Like every other hopeless romantic I start imagining all of the holiday love gone by, and honestly, it was disappointing.

I have been dumped right before holidays, and that seems like the worst, but is actually awesome because spending time with your family and not being alone is better than wallowing in your own self despair. For those of us who are terminally single, sick and tired of family questioning, why are you still single? Well, I am picky.

My standards have risen, I need more than just a mindless fuckboy. I want a person that is going to love me fully. Hopefully vegan, political, artistic, and kind.

I want a person to make me a better person, to compliment what completes me, to enrich the world with compassion and unbridled passion. Throw me up against the fridge, have me because you must, because I was the one you have been looking for.

That’s all I want. I will settle for nothing less. Why live inside of a snow globe when you can have the real thing? Why spoon someone when you can fill your spoon with a tub of vegan ice cream? You are in charge. Nobody can tell you what to wear, where to go, how much to drink, or anything because you are free.

Bake something and eat it all yourself. Make your own blanket fort to hibernate in. You can take this time to work on yourself, or be a lazy spud and go into the Netflix black hole of winter. If you want to make yourself better for you, then start right now.

Being single does not mean you are inadequate or unloveable. Sure it’s cold this time of year, go on some random dates and warm up with new conversation. Take this in stride and make 2017 the best year of your life.

You do not need a partner to justify you. You do not need a man or woman to feel happy or fulfilled. Self actualization and care is so important, it is something often overlooked when people become codependent in relationships.

New goals, brighter attitudes toward being single are needed. I know that I get sad every New Years that I don’t get a “special kiss”, does anyone? Only a very few get that fairytale romance, they might not even know they have it.

Nostalgia, sometimes for something you have never had, or maybe have only seen in movies, is a killer. You feel that warm and fuzzy sort of way, everything is “supposed” to fit. Don’t waste time on playing the game or being sad, be happy with what you have, write your own fairytale.

You are not broken, have hope, feel good, bask in the glory that is you.

CultureSex

Its funny to me that when I am trying to get laid it never happens. I want things to be perfect, I want candlelit romance with fine wine and the sweetest leaf.

If I clean my room, dye my hair, take a shower, gussy myself up, and go out crusin’ lone wolf style it is 100% certainty that I will come home alone, drunk, and disappointed. The nights that I am absolutely irresistible are the nights that my crotch smells like yesterday’s left out cat food, I am wearing a frumpy sweater, no makeup, no inhibitions, possibly bleeding, definitely not looking any kinda way.

Saturday I went out on a whim and never expected to even talk to someone, let alone take them back to my car like the true dirt grub I am. This boy was cute as a button. It was the same night as The World’s Largest Disco, so it wasn’t weird that he was wearing polyester bell bottoms. He looked so young and eager to please. Must have been 21, but dangerously close to it.

He told me that I was his favorite Stripteaser, that he loved how I took chances and was politically charged in my work. Ok, tell me more. He said that he had been coming to the show every week for a few months but was too scared to talk to me. ME?

At this point he had my full attention. We had an incredible conversation about art and the state of politics and the world in general. I was in awe of how much he was in awe of me. It was bizarre for this beautiful boy to be such a fan girl.

The bar closed and he was shocked when I asked him what he was doing after. His friends called him both a “savage” and a “pimp” as they watched us walk away. We were just going to my car to light one up and then started making out.

I forgot for a second that I didn’t brush my teeth that day and had just peed in an ally. It was excellent. He made me feel like a teenager. We kissed, he touched me, I touched him. He kept accidentally bumping into the horn, it was cute.

The cherry on top of this story is when he was fingering me and Nickelback came on the radio, I couldn’t help but laugh. Almost 30 years old and I am being finger banged in my car to Nickleback.

What is this life I live? I wasn’t going to have sex with him in my car, so I eventually bid him farewell. With a hickey on my neck and my heart racing I saw him disappear into the night. Of course I said “See you next Tuesday.”

I feel like an idiot for letting him go without even getting his last name or phone number. I was swept up in the moment. I wonder if I will ever see him again?

I need to be more of an “act now” kind of girl, stop second guessing everything. I let him walk off because my room was a disaster and I was embarrassed. I let him walk off because I didn’t shower that day or feel worthy of his sweetness and affection. He wanted to stay, but I pushed him away.

He did not show up at The Stripteasers show. Well that’s that. For my show I even dressed as Chad (the lead singer of Nickelback). I had done Nickelback about a year ago as a joke and still had the costume. My roommate joked “Bro, you know what this means? You have a NICKELBACK routine!”

It was incredible, I gave every person who tipped me a dollar a nickel back. The bar phone rang an hour later and it was a man calling saying that his girlfriend forgot her nickel and wanted it back.

“It was special because the performer gave it to her” I ran to my car to dig for a nickel that would be special enough to be cherished forever. When I gave it to her later she did not recognize me out of drag.

buffalonickels
I am often paralyzed by my own self doubt, I think that someone so beautiful would never ever be interested in me. I see my flaws like roadblocks with flares shooting off of them. I often feel like the only person in the world who is alone.

I know thats just crazy, but the feeling is real. I feel old and inadequate. Like by now I should be successful. I mean, it is all how you measure success, I guess.

I don’t make much money but I am happy, I love my job, it is stress free and wonderful. I love burlesque, I love the time I spend traveling, I love so much about my life, it would just be nice to share it with someone.

sexychadThe times I have fallen for people it has been hard, always one sided, just me not seeing the obvious, just me getting my head smashed, never their fault, always mine for assuming I will get what I want. I am an only child spoiled girl who also has white privilege and middle class money, so I am comfortable, I am safe.

I was born into middle-class America. I have all the makings of a cookie cutter success, I did well in school and got a college degree. I am beautiful, symmetrical, I have great teeth because my parents got me braces. I am an artist. I am a fucking catch. Single, sleeping alone with my crust skin and my lovely cats, surrounded by piles of costumes.

I get laid when I least expect it, so love will be the same. Love is inconvenient and imperfect, it has no rhyme or reason. You cannot control love. People fall in and out of our lives at random.

I never understood the people who had it all planned out: in 5 years I will be married with a child and a house with a white picket fence, there’s a mini van in the driveway and a golden retriever in the yard. These people will settle for the first available mate, the first person who is willing to also be tied to that plan.

I am insane, I could never plan my life like that, I don’t even know what I want, let alone how to find it. I will never settle, I will never be unhappy or partially happy. I will know it when I see it. I will know who I love when I meet them.

Was it the guy in my car that I sent off into the night? Was it that beautiful girl in Montreal with the pink hair and glasses? Was it the one that got away? It is most likely someone I have never met, but maybe seen in passing, maybe they know me, I am just oblivious.

CultureSex

“My bitch found a porn that I made with some other bitch back in the day. It was crazy, we were doing some award winning cartwheel 69 shit. She watched the whole damn thing and it ruined our relationship,” very loudly says one douche bro to another passing by in a dark parking lot where my friend and I were covertly smoking weed.

“Maybe you should have tried some cartwheel 69 shit with her!” I said to him, startling them a little. What even is cartwheel69? A great AIM screen name, I think.

Urban dictionary states that standing cartwheel 69 is “A sexual move often performed by gymnasts or dancers. It involves both partners in the Standing 69 position usually with the lighter partner backwards. The standing partner proceeds with cartwheels until he or she hits a wall. This often results with both partners simultaneously tightening their jaws on the recieving partners genitals, which ultimately leads to severed genitals and/or severe cuts.”  Say what?

What kind of misogynist asshole announces this story to his bro and the world like that? When he called her “his bitch” he pissed me off immediately. No woman should ever be described in such a demeaning way, and then the rest of the tale blew my mind. With his charming and respectful view of women I am sure the nails were already in the coffin of that relationship.

I do think that finding someone’s old homemade porn is not something that you should hold against someone. I am not defending this asshole by any means. He created this movie before the new girl was in the picture and while yes, he sucks for so many reasons, this is a grey area. She should not have been snooping through his computer, but genius boy obviously left it somewhere on his desktop labeled something reallllly discreet, waiting to be unearthed by an unsuspecting new lady.

I would have been turned on to see my beau going at it with a past lover. I would have picked on him hard. It seems like a case of jealousy, he wasn’t satisfying this poor girl and then she sees a video of him satisfying some other woman and she freaks out and leaves him.

This is why I have never made any scenes with former lovers. I have had multiple ask but never felt confident in knowing that the relationship would last forever and he would be the only person to ever see it. People don’t delete that kind of stuff.

Image via FreeFoto.com Creative Commons
Image via FreeFoto.com Creative Commons

This was obviously a rare shining moment in this guy’s sexual career. If I am making a porn I am getting paid for it. You know damn well that the guy will save it as a trophy forever and jerk off to it.

There is a whole genre of porn called revenge porn, men post old sex videos of themselves with ex girlfriends. These unsuspecting girls are then slut shamed on the internet, they signed no waiver, they receive no payment, some of these girls may never even see this video. Then boom, that hot cartwheel69 shit they did once after a college frat party is all over the internet.

It is truly fucked up that anyone would betray someone’s privacy like that. Create all sex tapes like they are going on the internet for mass consumption.

If you are not ashamed or feel like becoming a pornstar be my guest. Everything is different when it is with CONSENTING adults. Nothing else is remotely acceptable.

Finding someone else’s porn is interesting. It is a deep, dark fantasy revealed.

I was recently at an estate sale and in the attic came across an entire box of amazing vintage leather fetish gay porn and a leather/chain harness. I of course wanted the whole lot. When I brought it down everyone seemed so shocked that this box of gold even existed.

Being an estate sale it was the house of a man who had recently passed away, he was married and seemingly straight. His family had no idea about his kink and sexuality. I saw the look of disgust and terror in his son’s eyes as the lady from the sale gave me a price.

Did I out this man postmortem? He kept a secret his whole life and I just yanked it out of the attic.

It is so sad that he lived in a time where he didn’t feel safe showing his true self. He subscribed to marriage and the appropriate social standards. I wish I could make a time machine and pull this man out of his marriage and drop him off at the Folsom fair, let him wear his leather cock holster with chains and an O ring on the chest, walk around with others just like him. There is no deviance here, sexual freedom is beautiful.

I remember the first time I ever found porn as a child. It was a Hustler and there was penetration. It changed my life. Then there was my best friend’s dad’s shitty VHS 80’s bush porn. It was our first taste of the sex that would start being thrown at us via advertising and culture in high doses. You can’t get innocence back. Once you see it you cannot unsee it.

Porn is private, what people do and enjoy is their business. Never ever be ashamed of your porn collection (unless it is with non-consenting adult or a defenseless child, then you are a fucking monster who deserves to be shot).

Celebrate your fetish, love what and who you love proudly. If you make a porn with someone under the terms that it is just a sexy record for the two of you never dare show it to another person.

It is a violation, it is betrayal, just don’t do it! Keep your award winning cartwheel69 action to yourself, the satisfaction of knowing it exists should be enough. Bragging means you are overcompensating and there is nothing impressive or sexy about that.

* Featured Image by IsabelleTheDreamer via Flickr Creative Commons

AdviceCulture

Usually I know what I want as soon as I see it. With things it is easy, just buy or steal it. With people it’s different, there are things like consent and the need for mutual attraction to contend with. Being denied is one of the most terrifying things there is. It can feel overwhelming or embarrassing to put yourself out there, to make yourself vulnerable.

Wanting, yearning, waiting, waiting…. why wait when you can take? Why wait when life is so precious and short? The time is now, life cannot be wasted on waiting for things to happen to you. If you want someone, tell them! Obviously consent is the key, if you put it out there and they want it then you got the dream. If not you can move on, no more wasting time on yearning for someone who doesn’t feel the same.

Making the first move is all about reading the signs, a person’s body language says it all. How is the conversation? Light and upbeat is a good flow, don’t get too heavy and definitely don’t mention your ex or that you are on a quest for true love.

Are they making eye contact? Eye contact equals confidence. Is there any touch? Are they listening to you? There is no reason to go straight to number one, ease into things. While being slutty is fun, if you really like someone take it slow. Hugs, touching on the leg or shoulder, or anywhere else can be as erogenous as sex. Being flirty and direct on your intentions is a wonderful start to any new romance.

i want you

I have been in situations where I was attracted to someone for several years before making any kind of move. Even when I get shot down I take it in stride.

I have been told that I am intimidating. I need to stop thinking that people are out of my league, we are all on the same team, humans trying to touch each other’s butts. Yes or No, you like me back or I can finally move on.

That first kiss is something that you will never forget if you do it right. I remember my first First Kiss, I was 14 and innocent. I was walking with a group of friends and one of the guys told me I was beautiful, I responded with “It’s Dark” and then he kissed me. It was sloppy and fast, I have never been the same since.

I liked it, a lot. We made out in a basement that night. That much physical contact and teenage lustiness was astounding to me. I remember our tongues wrestling and me not knowing how to deal with the drool.

My favorite memories in life are those moments right before a first kiss. Things are going good, this beautiful human is here with me, they want this too, uncertainty melts away when they lean in or don’t run away when you advance. There is a surge of electricity, a sickness in your guts, you feel like there is about to be an explosion and your body will turn into rays of sunshine and music.

YES, THEY WANT IT! Your lips lock, tongues twist, licking, sucking, biting, nuzzling, smiling between breathes, as subtle waves of loveliness envelope your existence and justify all of the butterflies. Worth the wait, you linger. Wondering why it took so long, but happy that you waited for the perfect moment.

romanceFuck the concept of a perfect moment. I often wait for the stars to align, hoping that the right person will just appear, ready and willing, in my arms. It’s better to reach out and grab what you want, in the case of love bad things happen to those who wait.

I have sat by and watched too many people get “found” by someone else. I may have loved them for years, but due to my fears they never knew. If I could have just opened my mouth maybe they would have opened their hearts?

Instead they now “belong” to a new lover, which is a hard concept for me to wrap my fingers around. Love is not ownership, it is companionship, it is wanting to share adventures and help each other through tribulations.

I would never want to be in a relationship that stifled any part of my being. It is about celebrating each other and continuing to keep doing what it is that makes you wonderful.

Years pass, crushes come and go, you are still there, I am slow. I want to squeeze you tight. That girl kept talking, all I wanted her to do was start walking so I could “say goodnight.” Finally she left without a fight. I leaned into the car and onto those perfect lips. I wished it would have lasted longer, but it felt like pure magic. I was bursting from the seams, skipping down the street with joy. I did it! Now it’s all I can think of. I feel so scared that I want to run! I want to run my fingers down every inch of your perfect porcelain skin, put my face in the dark places of your loveliness.

I don’t know how to navigate relationships. I feel like a little kid chasing the ice cream truck and it never stops. The music taunting me, the dollar bill in my hand getting sweaty, pressed up against my handle bars.

I can’t expect anyone to make the first move, nobody can read my mind. Put yourself out there, don’t let fear ruin or consume you. If you like someone tell them! Tell them twice, tell them everyday. Treat every kiss like a first kiss.

CultureSex

That moment when you know it isn’t going to last forever but you don’t want it to end. It’s sad, but it’s life. Not everything is meant to be, not for forever or even right now, not everyone is in on the fairy tale.

It is easy to wish for impossible things.

Even if it’s wonderfully magical, if it hurts someone else it’s wrong. Love is supposed to uplift the world around you, not to cause you happiness at the expense of another.

You need to take care of others and make sure your actions will not negatively effect another person, especially one you love and respect. There is an action and reaction to everything, we are all part of the same delicate system of lust and heartbreak, love and that looming goodbye.

Some love is fleeting, ending only moments after it began, other times it takes weeks, months, or maybe even years to die. Even people who are married or in long term relationships might not REALLY be happy, sometimes people literally or figuratively stay together for the kids.

The “kids”may be actual children, pets, a house, social status, religious beliefs, money, comfort, pure laziness, or even really good sex.

Romeo and Juilet remind me of some of my recent affairs, destined to never really be together. There is no possible way this can work, not even true love can defy death (or in my case the bro code).

I have met people and knew instantly that I would love them, I can also read people well and know when I don’t have a snowballs chance in hell. Crushes are meant to be crushed.

There have also been some sleepers, people I dismissed as a romantic interest instantly friend zoning them, just to later find that there was some weird secret spark between us. It wasn’t always love at first sight, sometimes it is love upon insight.

Not every person looks like they could be your “type,” but what exactly is a type anyways? It’s bullshit. People are more than what they look like or seem to be. Sure I have seen an attractive person and felt instant connections,but that doesn’t mean they are love at first sight material. It’s complicated.

Extended eye contact, intense conversation, not nervous until you realize this could be it. Then it all goes downhill from there.

I always want what I can’t have. Is that why other girl’s boyfriends are more appealing to girls? That internal competition, survival of the fittest. The fight for survival.

I am an only child, so I can be a little bit self centered sometimes. I can’t have everything. Some people don’t find me sexy and that’s OK, it’s their prerogative. I don’t want to jump into bed with ever schmuck who wants me either.

It needs to go both ways. They need to love me and must reciprocate for it to work. It’s hard to hear that someone doesn’t find you attractive, but that’s how the cookie crumbles.

I can’t help but to attack my physical looks whenever I get denied. Well if I wasn’t so fat maybe he would love me, ect. I know that’s crap and not to take it personally but it is hard.

ethical slutLet’s just be friends, implies that we were more (are more) and now it’s over, at least in the traditional sense. Benefits? We can fuck but no emotions are allowed. This is difficult for me to grasp. All sex is based on emotional connection for me.

I recently tried the detached booty call thing and felt really empty afterwards. The lack of kissing and cuddling disturbed me. Polyamory is confusing, so is hookup culture.

I wanted more, I yearned for a deeper connection that I knew we just didn’t have.

Like a one night stand should, I left right after. It felt damn good, I just wanted to cuddle more and maybe round two, but felt awkwardly passive.

Then on the other hand I found someone that I did have a connection with, but due to circumstances, we could not be together. The sort of “naughtiness” and secretive beginnings made everything feel nice, but unfortunately for me and my conscience I knew it had to stop.

stripteasers are the funniestWahh wahhhh. On another planet things might have been different. For now I will just sit here with my horniness. I keep telling myself I can’t be sad when you move on, but also that I know I can get what I want elsewhere.

I have a track record of falling for my friends too. I get so nervous about being rejected that I allow myself to be instantly friend zoned.

I am fucking amazing, especially at being a friend. It’s easy for me to make life long connections. My lack of confidence is astounding, I can never make the first move or seal the deal with a person I am interested in. I can’t use magic to make someone love me either, if it is not consensual I don’t want it.

What is that shit? Either we can have no strings attached sex with those we don’t love or no sex with those we do love. I want a middle ground, I need both, I want the connection and the sextin.

I can wait. Happiness is worth it. I will go through a hundred someones before I find the ultimate one, if that’s a real thing, even then it might just be for now. Lust or bust.

AdviceCulture

The main problem with my life is that I am afraid of falling. I used to jump off of swings and fly through the air. Now I ride a tricycle so I don’t fall off of it.

I only regret the things I haven’t climbed. I know I have missed out on beautiful views because I didn’t have the guts to grab them. I’ve never done a cartwheel. I didn’t have the guts to grab a lot of things.

I never blame the people who “broke my heart” because it was never them who broke it, it was me. I wasn’t ready, I was afraid to fall. Then I would see them with their new happiness. I thought I wanted that, I can do better.

afraid cyclistI was supposed to finish this blog last night but I went to the beach instead. I lived my life instead of moping in my head. Sweating in my bed. Spent time with friends. I got in the fucking van. I don’t need any man. I can!

But, I still want you, I want you so bad, I want what I am not, I need what I just can’t have, someone else’s sweet reality is my dark fantasy, what lengths is a person willing to take to get what they think they need?

She’s got it, how’d she do it? I want that! No, I can’t. The big green monster lurking through the shadows and fully lit spaces and sometimes even in your wallet. You can’t always get what you want, especially instantly.

Money doesn’t equal success in the same way fame does not equal happiness. Fortune is in moments of discovery and kindness. Life is magic but there is also required work. Nothing is lounging on a silver platter.

Being greedy and selfish is a social atomic bomb. Stop being a spoiled white girl, a life full of privilege and decadence. You need to fight fear and ignorance with self actualization and solidarity. Nobody is your entire world but you. How do you shape your own reality?

For one I know I can be a big fat only child Amurican hippocrit. It’s ok for me to have desires and no expectations when it comes to a relationship but as soon as I see my “other” with someone else I lose my damn mind. At the end of the day it all boils down to my lack of self worth and confidence. Whenever I find someone with even the least amount of interest in me I latch on clinger status, I yearn to be loved.

Where does this entitlement comes from? Maybe because I have been “pretty” my entire life, I just get what I want before I even know I wanted it. I was always fawned over with sweet decadence, something about being a little child of the corn blonde girl that really breaks all the hearts, or at least temporarily melts them with my piercing baby blues.

Its so funny when people say I am so intimidating that they couldn’t even talk to me let alone be my friend or get to know me. Because I do burlesque and hold my head up high it is assumed that my bad assitude is real. I am really much more simple than that. Wind gusting under my torn patchwork skirt, justifying my existence. Freedom, jealous of no one. Right On!

The only true way to get the one you want is to give them space when they need it, smothering gets you nowhere fast, believe me I’ve done it.

There is no magic formula for the perfect relationship. Life is like the seasons, we need to have the change, the snow is as important as the sun, the draught as important as the rain. It makes us stronger and more well rounded. Happiness and sadness, love and loneliness, acceptance and rejection. It’s important to embrace the strange complexities of our modern world.

Relationships are so different. Nothing is cut and dry, or sorry, forever… Labeling is hard. Polyamory is different from the free love movement because there is structure. Primary and secondary lovers combine to shape your dating topography. Different vocabulary.

Lonely but never alone if you love yourself. Don’t invest everything in nothing, you deserve respect. I have loved people so hard for so long and never said anything because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of them. Then after all of my silent pining, someone swoops. By taking control she got what we both wanted. She gets to travel the world as his girl.

riding trike

Unhappiness, trapped in a world you don’t fit into. There is a young couple on my street that has a child their car is all full of baby stuff and has a bumpersticker that reads “I’d rather be stage diving.”

I am NOT jealous of that life. That bumper sticker says so much. “I’d rather be ______(insert passion here)” is so depressing. My dad’s friend just got married and had his first baby in his late 50s. That’s happiness.

When I was a little girl I would love to play wedding and marry all the boys in the neighborhood. Then I would make my Barbie dolls have the most lesbian sex ever.

As I grow up I realize that I want it all, but fear has me pinned. If I only had gears and less emotional weight in my basket, I’d go faster.

At the end of the day, I am still afraid to fall. To fall of a bike, to fall in love, to fall off a mountain, to fall down the stairs. I need to rise above irrational fears and take more chances, get in more vans, and go on more adventures.

Traveling through California was a step, I need to do more of that. I can’t pine over people who don’t want me. Actively seek people who do want me, actually no, fuck that, stop seeking anybody and those who are worth it will withstand my silliness and be standing by my side when I need them to be.

Stop being so patient and grab it, time is of the essence. You are worth the risk. There are worse things than falling. You will always get back up and scraped knees are sexy.