I bet Arod spent all morning doing that…

Check out my new blog header! Of course, how could you miss it? I call that my ‘cat who caught the canary’ look.

The Yankees won last night, and I was at my favorite old man dive bar to witness it. Testify! Oh, there are few funnier things than watching geriatrics ignore their arthritis by jumping up and down and high-fiveing eachother. The Phillies were stupid for thinking Pedro Martinez could actually pull off another win (I’m a Mets fan, so I know these things). Ha ha! Phillies suck! (The Mets suck more… but go screw, naysayers!)

Speaking of baseball…

I am reading Moneyball right now, by Michael Lewis. Beside there being a ton of statistical minutia that I could care less about, there are a bunch of revealing tidbits about the culture of professional baseball and it’s reliance on superstition and pseudo-science when assessing player’s performance. One thing about the book that has struck me so far was that looks used to be a factor in determining whether someone should get drafted. There was (is still?) a certain kind of “face” that scouts would look for when choosing ballplayers from colleges and highschools. There was also a certain type of preferred body (ooh, the homoerotic undertones!) aside from any actual proof that it had any bearing whatsoever on how someone could play. There are a bunch of other quasi-interesting facts in the book so far (I’m halfway through), including some great arguments on why some statistics (that are still used) just shouldn’t even exist, ex: errors. It is also the story of Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A’s who was a pro ball player in the 80’s, and who did fit all of the bullshit statistical facial/body requirements, but still never had a successful career. Apparently, this stuck in his craw a little, and as an adult, he became fascinated with choosing players based solely on real statistical data- that being chiefly on-base percentage, and slugging percentage.

Jesus, I’m even boring myself talking about that crap. It would be interesting to know where the facial requirement came from, though. Lewis doesn’t go into it, but I’m sure it probably has something to do with physiognomy (which I wrote a paper about in college) and other such racist hogwash.

Anyhoo… I am going to really embarrass my boyfriend right now, and tell everyone that I shaved his cock, balls, and ass last night. Ha ha! It was tremendously intimate and fun. And sooo needed. Phew!

In other news, as I was walking home last night, a lady freaked out on me because she thought I was someone famous, although she could not say who. I am going to go out on a limb and say that she probably thought I was Tina Fey… I am getting a lot of that lately (weird!). I don’t know who she thought I was, because I promptly ran down into the subway. It’s the glasses. I used to get a lot of, “Oh, you look like that Lisa Loeb!” when she was popular as well. Yick. This was the first time I actually had someone scream and freak out on me, though. Although now I think I should have tried to sign her tits.

xoxo.

I know I haven’t written in a while… but get over it. I have too many things to write about, and make a bunch of different drafts, but can’t bring myself to sit down and focus enough to edit them. Oh well, your loss. So don’t get all whiny because this piece sort of goes all over the place.

Anyway.

I am often struck by how BDSM seems to have a therapeutic effect on people. Sometimes it’s obvious in session, sometimes more so afterward. Fewer things are more satisfying than making someone cry- either from pain or words. Not because, oooh, I’m such a heartless sadist, arrrgh! (or pirate?) but because there is a catharsis that occurs. It’s a cleansing of sorts. At the risk of sounding namby-pamby- men need to cry more. I have one client who tells me that he can’t, but only comes close when he comes to see me. This gives me pause, but also a sense that even though there is no scientific evidence to back this up, there exists profound experiential proof that BDSM is beneficial. You can’t tell me otherwise when I have a grown man thanking me profusely as he wakes out of subspace. On repeated occasion with many different people.

BDSM is theater. Not to say it’s fake (quite the opposite), but it is a stage for people to act out the deepest innerworkings of their minds (god, that phrase is overused, but fuck it). It’s a forum for someone to be exactly who they are. Without judgement. (Or with! Depending…)

It pisses me off that there is no scientific data which even explores the possibility that BDSM could be positive. It is simply shelved away in the DSM IV, a collection of activities which fall under Paraphilia. Philosophy and fiction describe it, theorize about it, but still there is no one who has said, “This is exhilarating. This reduces stress. This makes people feel sane again. Look at this, this, and this data.” However, most of us who have been mucking around BDSM for awhile know it’s pretty terrific, no? Most versions of it, anyway.

Most likely the result of puritanical religious attitudes (endorsed and validated by the scientific community), BDSM is conventionally seen as “dark” or “disturbing”. Which is really an impediment to being open and frank. And if we can’t be open and frank, how do we expect to be understood? It is a catch-22. I have made the analogy before on this blog, that we are about in the same place that the gay movement was in, I’d say, roughly about 20 years ago.

Look, I know I’m preaching to the choir here. But I just feel like this doesn’t get talked about enough.

That being said, I got to use an electrified knife on one of Wynter’s subjects last week. He said it felt as if he was being castrated… ha ha! I have too much fun.

So, I was at a fetish party the other night. I’m not proud of it, but it happened. My friend John pointed out a girl dressed like Marilyn Monroe from The Seven Year Itch. She was gorgeous. I said, “You want me to go up to her?” He is shy, and probably would not have done it himself, I knew. I asked if she needed a drink. We sat, we talked… Then we got on the topic of her relationship- she’s with a FTM (she never thought she’d like pussy!) We talked about “plumbing”(genitalia)- is that what people are attracted to? Or is it more about masculinity vs. femininity? Or perhaps even more toward topping or bottoming? I marveled at how convincing she looked, how beautiful she was. She glowed. She stood out. She seemed to be very young. And would only drink soda water.

She pointed to her friend (who was suspending someone with rope in the corner) who’s a post-op, and was thinking about getting her operation as well. She’s been taking hormones for 2 1/2 years. I say, “Aren’t you afraid that you won’t feel the same? You won’t be able to have an orgasm again.” She said the surgeries have gotten much more sophisticated. You can now. I was impressed. And happy that if someone wanted to make that conversion, they could without losing feeling.

I went back to John. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? ” I say.

“Yeah, stunning, ” he says.

“She’s a dude. Well, not really a dude, but she has a dick.”

His eyes widened, then he looked disappointed. “Why does it matter?” I say. He turned to me and said, “It’s all just kibbles and bits to you, isn’t it?” I said, “Yeah. Maybe. What’s wrong?”

I got so engrossed in this concept, I started bringing it up in practically every conversation I had that night. I even got into a discussion with some German dude outside, smoking a cigarette. He said, “I am heterosexual man.” But what? You’re just attracted to a part? A piece of someone’s body? All he could say is that he’s straight, he’s straight. Great. Obviously he thought this out.

I went back inside. “Marilyn” asked me to find her a male Dom. (Huh? Okay, yeah, I don’t exactly exude masculinity- unless I’m doing a prison scene, heh) Will John beat her? No, I say, John is submissive (you’re welcome, John). I tapped one of the Doms I know were there to hit someone, no matter what the sex, and watched him (very skillfully) flog her. It was a joy to watch. She squealed. Her dress flew up. He whipped her “pussy” and it looked like she was standing over a subway vent, a la her muse.

I watched her, thinking how brave she is, and how difficult it must be to feel like there are parts of your body you don’t need or that feel alien to you. Although it begs an interesting contradiction- if “bits” don’t matter, why do some people feel they have to change theirs? Why- to feel more like a woman, must one acquire (or lose) plumbing? Is it because they feel societal pressure to conform to one sex? Or is it the result of some genetic predisposition to want another sex? Why does it matter anyway? Why do people care about what certain people do to their bodies? Why is modifying one’s sex so controversial? Because it’s taboo? Well then, shouldn’t that make it sexy? (according to Bataille- see a previous post with comments)

I find it ironic that many of us in the kinky community whine about being accepted, and how our sexuality is different, but no less valid than anyone else’s, etc. But when someone from another alternative group shows up and wants to participate, we freak the fuck out. Or else, are not interested in deviating from our deviance. Is that not the same exact thing that we blame vanilla people of doing? Being prudish? Having a lack of imagination?

xoxo.

Unexpectedly, one of my Max Fischers made this for me. Isn’t it cute?

xoxo.