Let’s see… Themes for the week:

  1. Dying
  2. Race

Both located in my sense of family and the way people should be treated. Why is it that the individual at the centre point is so often ignored? While the absolute focus doesn’t need to be there, it is the touchstone. Conversations radiate out from that point. From the specific out to theory and concept and back to the individual again.

So, a dying woman gets to have agency regardless of what the people around her need. She gets to stand in line first. The reasons and justifications and blah blah blah that the living have are not her work.

So, a PoC or whomever is being defined as “the other” gets to have agency and should be considered when folks choose to converse generally or specifically. The reasons and justifications and blah blah blah that the those who are doing the “talking about” are not the work of the subject.

Both things made me think about my own mortality and purpose. And neither needs to be burdened with my personal sense of horror. It’s not additive. And it’s selfish in a way that ain’t all that helpful.

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The week began with closing out the South Plains Master Slave conference. Glad I went. I got stories but most of them are around the culture of the place.

Have to say that I expected a higher level of… well… manners. Protocol. Something.There were incidents that distressed me. And I’d like to talk/write about them, but you know what? I’m a coward. I’m not into public disclosures that will breed or heighten dissension. Not in the way that my thoughts on what I experienced could. So don’t bother asking unless yer one of those people who have darkened the door of my apartment.

The week was full of work related to Mayhem. It’s gonna be good. If I survive the work it takes to pull it off. If you’re a past, present or future woman, I hope that you’ll join us in Vancouver for the first conference of its kind in Western Canada since 1993.

Work was productive and not. I love lead projects. I love being underestimated and giving people pause.

The monthly Top Shelf meeting happened again this week and it just left me feeling hungry. But I did manage to begin the organizing of the next D/s Dinner/salon and my Fourth Annual Sexy Sauna Birthday Bathhouse for Women.

Oh, and the boi sold her house. Which means she’ll be here soon. YES.

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What a week. All about prepping and going to to South Plains LeatherFest and International Master/slave weekend.

And lots of working on Mayhem. And planning MORE things like the next D/s Dinner/salon and my fourth annual Sexy Sauna B-Day Bathouse party. I seem to just keep adding things to the schedule.

The more I travel the more I am drawn to travel. the more I want to head out into the world of Leather and learn and fellowship. I am blessed.

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Sometimes when I review what I’ve twittered for the week I’m surprised at the range. In some ways not wide enough. I fear become to narrow in my focus and not having enough breadth to be able to think critically. Having too few reference points to be of interest to myself. Never mind the rest of the world that I inflict my thinking on…

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Yeah… My first entry of the week was directed at someone specific. GAWD. I’m harmless except for when I’m not…

So Monday I’m doing my regular Monday Night Martinis with DC and KC. We rotate who cooks, drink all kinds of booze, watch Heroes on TV (my lust has changed characters this year. Can you guess who?), and uphold the “sex talk every 7 minutes minimum” in a family dome of silence.

This particular night was RC’s b-day and he was cooking (nice guy) and EM was over eating with us.  I was in A LOT of discomfort. I thought I’d been constipated for over a week. Except that I was shitting reguarily. By the end of the night I was on the floor writhing in pain. EM and DC took me to emergency. Apparently I has ovarian cysts. Two days later they determined that they didn’t need to do emergency surgery and I was sent home with an appointment with my surgeon from the fall and instructions to PRN my leftover meds from my surgery last year. BLEAH.

Got on a plane Thursday and headed to Edmonton for Lupercalia. It was AWESOME. Not the conference… my sessions facilitated by Master Skip and slave Rick. Major break through around M/s for me.

Anyways… details of my adventure twittered for your voyeuristic pleasure. I’ll blog my session experiences (maybe) another time.

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What a week! Lots of bits and pieces on the agenda. Next week I head to Lupercalia in Edmonton, Alberta. My focus will be on my charge Bootblack Jac (also presenting Boot Blacking: Service or Seduction? at Canadian Mayhem) and on four seminars facilitated by Master Skip Chasey and Slave Rick: The Mana of Fetish, When the Going gets Tough (parts 1& 2) and The Servant Master: From Control to Compassion.

Anyways… twittery details for the week behind the cut…

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Seems like a lot of people have migrated in that direction. I’ve found myself increasingly in conversations wherein a person makes reference to or quotes FetLife or a person who posts there.

So strange.

Part of what is interesting to me is how CLEAR online space can twist the identity and purposes of who is present. There a few folks present who I have met or whom I know in real time who are making it a serious ground for ambition. Now… don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with ambition. And I have a certain respect for those who know how to play the game. It’s a voyeur sport for me. However, because I don’t play those games, when they come my way I get swallowed. I’m too blunt, clear, and truth-talking to be sly, manipulative and coy.

There a a few people I watch on there making strives, and serious gains at international attention or status. Will that work on those who know them in real life for who they are? Probably not. But for those with limited contact, it’s pretty easy to become a star or an authority through a few strokes on a keyboard. And for those who watch the rise to power regardless of their personal knowledge of where bodies are buried or what personal motives or ambitions move people… well for some of them, it’s a political move to stay quiet. And then there are the streams of toadies (hmmm… I should look up the etomology of that word before I use it hmmm?) that know and capitulate for personal gain.

Bah…. More thoughts but I’ve just bored myself.

!K

 

A friend said: “why don’t you post to your LiveJournal?”

Which is a valid question since I’m kinda anti-lurker, ya know?

And I replied: If I could Twitter via phone and have that post to there, you’d see some content.”

So then she hooked me into phone Twittering. But she didn’t know how to help me post from one to the other.

Do you?

 

I’ve always said that SM is a team sport. Except for when it’s not Smile

I love lending energy through appreciative watching, by playing lube/glove/condom girl or full on cheering/egging on the action.

I love a good group scene. The planning over cocktails and pizza; the psychological tormenting of the victim/s (err… objects of affection); laughter… OH! the laughter!

Regardless of how it goes it’s a bonding thing. Tales to tell in the future and truth to embellish with glee.

And when full on scening isn’t available, I’ve had good fun doing “clinics” wherein skills are exchanged. In my experience there is still much laughter at moments like that.

I recommend them. And if the group you usually hang with seems a bit complacent… find an outsider to bring in and terorrize. Heh.

 

Servicing the citizens of my municipality calls to me but the sun beckons.

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GAG.

I gag and gag and gag.

Sometimes I find a way to don my good girl face. Generally I look for the silver lining.
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I was told I would end up paying. And I did. Big fucking surprise. There are always only a handful of folks willing to stick up their heads like whack-a-moles and eventually, no matter how skilled, they get thumped.

I wish I could withdraw the bounty I offered up – well – used as a shield really… or evidence. I wish I could eat those words. Keep them safe from prying puerile eyes and tongues inclined to repetition. Safe from reinterpretation.

All I’ve done is create more work at a time when my body is failing me physically.

Mama is tired. And as we all know… fatigue leads to mistakes. And as I scribbled on paper and passed to a friend: I can’t keep my defenses up. So fallible. So flawed.

I sometimes feel like a knight. In service to something larger than me. Desiring to be in service to something larger than me. And beside me, my trusty squire. In service to me and the vision I in turn serve.

Sometimes I am a queen. Not the Queen of Everything, but the Queen of Quite-a-lot. A dame in service with need of a consort with whom I can sojourn.

The wind. Gentle and destructive. Loved and feared.

Being self-reflective can be a dangerous thing.

 

Is it possible that my personal experience of prostituting my charge – which was very much based in D/s with all kinds of BDSM – wasn’t… real? authentic? wrong? what? What was I engaging in?

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Goodness… there certainly is a lot of the “Church of the One True Way” around… Can Pimps be Dominants? Can pimps/prostitutes be in the lifestyle?  YEESH. The people I talk to…

Do any of you KNOW any Sex Trade Workers? ‘Cause I know a pile. For some it is supplemental, others it is recreational, others it is a practice/craft, and for some it is about food and shelter. For some it is a mix. However, none of the people I know (females, males, M2F, F2M) are “street entrenched” which I **think** is where this conversation tends to be located without specification. The way I know these people? Through the local, PNW and international conference circuit’s BDSM community. Yes. There is representation of POCs in there too.
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I believe that one can rage against injustice, even if it is about one’s own sense of having been the target of it, without committing personal exposure.

For instance, I can rage about how classim effects a person’s ability to get housing in Vancouver. I can do that publically and have others join in conversation. I don’t have to relate the details of any personal experience I might have had in order to squeeze my spleen.

Now, if what I want is commiseration… then I ‘ll probably have to give a least a little something up otherwise folks won’t be able to accurately see and respond appropriately to me.

And I think sometimes there is dirty laundry which SHOULD be aired. But I say that a a person who might benefit from knowledge. If I was the person providing it… I might not feel the same way. Would I want the world to know that my building has bedbugs (it doesn’t) but that I can’t afford to move? Maybe folks who hear the story might chip in to help me. Maybe they will just shun me. Or say shit about me behind my back and not invite me to their homes…

I had a conversation with a group of friends this week and a statement was made about safety and trust. Several of us were surprised because we didn’t KNOW enough of the dirty laundry to be the kind of support that would make her feel valued. So long she lived with that. I was glad she finally spoke.

Anyway…

I’m going to go pour a martini.

 

The fact is that when a group of “friends” get together, they don’t have to think of anyone but themselves. They are friends. The fact that all of you move through the same dungeon doesn’t automatically make you their friend or make them yours. And their movement (hate the us vs them thing) doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with large “C” Community.

No one likes to be on the outside. And I speak as one who IS on the outside of one of those groups. I have some access, at different points through different people, but I know I’m not square in the middle. I don’t get invited to everything. I don’t join the movie watching parties. I don’t go on the shopping trips. And I’m OK with that. I can only manage so many friendships in my life. I only want so many people that I have to call and write and go to coffee with really. I’m a private person and my home is small so not many people have been to my house. And, frankly, there are people out there that I would eat a meal across from, but don’t want in my home. That doesn’t mean they are bad people or that I am either. Not everyone gets to see my messy kitchen, OK? Friendships either click or grow. What makes you think you should get an all access pass? And do you want EVERYONE you see in the dungeon to have one to your life?

Volunteer. Smile. Introduce yourself politely. Find ways to drop your name into conversations if you think the people you want to hang out with might not have your firmly in your mind. DON’T be obsequious. Ask a question. Provide an answer. Invite them to hang out with you and yours. Smile. Be sociable. Participate with pleasure. Be a team player. Ask how you can help instead expecting others to serve it up. The rules for getting “in” if that is what is important, aren’t any different than they are in the rest of the world.

And remember… just because we all share the same interests, and just because it is useful/fun/beneficial/politic etc for us to come together, doesn’t mean we have to send each other greeting cards for birthdays and during the holidays. And really, do you want to have close personal ties with EVERYONE in the dungeon? Or just that group over there that you perceive have something you don’t? Consider WHY it is you want what you do.

Cause if “Community” is just them…. what about me? Don’t I count too?

 

Dark Connections is an online group I’ve recently begun to look at. They asked me three questions about joining an online forum for POCs.

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I remember a period of time when I discovered needles. In fact, what it was was a scene where a woman was being stapled. And the gun was offered to me. And I did it… and this HUGE THING reared it’s head at me and I had to walk away. I was VERY shaken and didn’t go near bloodsports for over a year. And just being around it caused my poor senses to start going on overload.

I remember being in this nasy funk after a SPECTACULAR weekend and having the person I was with look at me and say “Top Drop, Ma’am?” that moment has stuck with me.

I have to dash. I’d left half my groceries at the store at bus ride away in the rain. But I’ll be back. Hopefully others will have waded in by then.

 

I know that I have written stuff that people on here may assume they have knowledge about.

Sometimes people are right when they assume and there are times when they are not. I’ve had that experience where a person has said ” you were writing about me!” When in fact, I wasn’t. I may have been writing about a similar time in the past or a pattern that has reoccurred or I may be taking more than one story and combining to make a point. Sometimes I am speaking hypothetically and sometimes I am just making shit up in order to process. Sometimes I use tales I’ve heard elsewhere because they ring true in the expository moment. Often I am using the past, which may have similarities to the present (… I was hanging with this butch bottom I know…) but may not be representative of the present (… I was hanging with this butch I know…), and may not represent the whole of my experience (… I was hanging with this bottom I know…).

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I see labels as being in the same category as assumptions. They are a necessary evil. For me, it’s not so much about our best guesses based on past knowledge and expereince, but what we do once we realize that things aren’t the way we thought.

Personally I couldn’t live in a world where making assumptions about what appears to be a an elderly female holding the hand of a small child wearing glasses. If it turns out that they both have medical conditions that render my perceptions incorrect… so be it. It’s what I do with the information when I find out that the elderly person is actually only 35 and the child has some form of dwarfism that makes the difference to the success of the interaction.

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