FETISH

Archive for the ‘1’ Category

I Need to be sent back to the Factory for Retuning.Where’s my Warranty?

In 1 on December 19, 2009 at 6:27 pm

I cannot believe it. A wonderful lady who is a pro Photographer, her burlesque work as well as other kinds in black and white is gorgeosity, asked me to sit for her, we had it all set up for this morning, I was absolutely tickled and looking forward to collabing with her.

And, I did not hear the alarm this morning. Now generally speaking I hear every breath within 200 ft, and I wake at 5am.

I missed out. And bumped the time of this generous pro. I am devastated, and embarrassed. Flying out of her Monday, no time to reschedule.

I’ve been taking my own photos for two years and had hoped some might go well with my writing submissions, plus some could be a little ham for the cam straight out fun.

My warranty is obviously expired. It’s not all hanging together well.

Holy. The disappointment and embarrassment….

I need some sort of tweaking, obviously, but this, this was inexplicable.

I could cry. Cat

Advertisements

It Got Lonely inside the Bermuda Triangle..No, You Can’t make me Leave there.

In 1 on December 19, 2009 at 2:06 am

So, this blogspace has been defunct for 5 months. Hmm, went to NYC, and NJ and then took the default option. ..

Lost my words, spent the summer on energy drinks, cigs and air, maudlin and moody. Generally speaking was difficult and nasty to those who contacted me, and crawled increasingly into the closet. Now am back in NYC for a mid december visit, perusing the bookshelves to see the lousy erotica that’s being published..

meeting some fine upstanding NYC citizens, and angsting about the pipes bursting back home. I’ve been quiet about the whole edifice of D/s over the months, generally taking..I cannot help my own jaded state…a rather cynical approach to the approach of others..it’s not winning me any girl guide cookies…but WTF..

I find myself wanting to pen emails such as listen you fukfaced twat why aren’t you responding…this on business matters, not romantic connections.

It’s been a five month blast and a half. Yeah. Thankfully there are still some souls out there who still talk to me.

Moving thru.  The words, the words, will come.

cat..staring into my corona, havent looked at this blog in 5 months, hahahha,sigh. bare with me.

Me or We..Have we become a culture of Uber narcissm?

In 1, Philosophy..sociological commentary on May 14, 2009 at 9:34 pm

I’m musing this eve on narcissism and its colonization of western cultural values. I’m thinking about the whole on line proliferation of easy access to self promotion and its fracturing of the self.

Identity has become fluid, coursing thru the bits and bytes, spawning multi representations of moments along our own personal timelines, thru photoblogging, self confession, self expression…

… given unbelievable latitude and longitude..
( ha! think cock pics)

In the lifetime of the average blogger here, the majority between 30 and early 50’s..technology has created a world wherein we have become our own front page headline, our own press and paparazzi, capable of extending our virtual viral vibes into the eyes and minds of a multitude, our reach, global.

The scale boggles the mind, if we stop to think about it.
But given the intimate settings from which many of us write, our own dens, living rooms, bedrooms, ect, do many of us really STOP to think about it?

I think perhaps we have become more cynical and jaded as a result, more isolated in our social contact, if we define social time as time spent offline, face to face, flesh to flesh.
Many people spend their working hours in office cubicles or oout tof the home, and then their spare time surfing..

We have developed new skill sets to deal with cyber intimacy, whether it be friendships with those of like affinities, or
lovers….we have sharpened our abilities to write of self as object,as our lives as quasi fiction..magical realism genre..as ourselves as brands.

Are we narcissists as per the old definition? Consumed by self?
Or is that definition somehow wanting, is there some new take, that perhaps sees liberation and the good in the democratizing of free speech, the democratizing of business, the extension of potential and reach beyond narrowly defined geographical and financial boundaries?

I’m not knocking the web, I am all over it, but at what point is it all over me?

I have always spoke to collective social values.
We built a nation on it here in Canada..we tend to the collaborative rather than the competitive, this however is rapidly altering.

I myself, remain collaborative in approach, reclusive though I may be at times, and solicitious of my own privacy in ways that may not be readily visible.

I spoke to Lucifer of my thoughts on this, and he had some interesting points to make which continue to flesh out this bird’s eye view of the topic..

The net is perhaps not unlike the splitting of the atom, can be used for unimaginable good and evil..neutral in itself if you take a post modern approach. Have we become as mini gods, fallen headlong into our own ever elusive images to the detriment of our worlds, or have they exploded expotentially?

Cat

Lucifer:

This is not a new pattern that is emerging or has emerged, we're, an 
intelligent race, have been broadcasting our selves long before Ben
Franklin printed a news paper.  However started with Ben Franklin as an
official form of public media, not everyone had access to a press, nor
Franklin, to advertise their services, wares or offers, but as ingenuity
in humankind progressed the print form of media began to grow, and
provide access to those people who had something to sell, share or talk
about...including themselves.

The marketing of self is as old as history can record, there has always
been a hawker, yelling to sharpen your blade, or shoe your horse.  Sign
makers were told what the sign should say about Mary the seamstress and
this has not changed no matter how we evolve, what has changed is that
technology allows more access for the same behaviors...and reaches more
people.

 From the print media to the radio, from the radio to the television.
Television expanding as megahertz grew and communications grew, along
with the cheapening of costs to make these marvels of modern technology,
so it comes to pass that the oldest of gratuitous marketing behaviors
became more and more creative, more and more revealing and more and more
received.

The net is only the next step in this typical human pattern of sell,
sell, sell...and it isn't only capitalism, it is selling one's life for
the shear joy of being able to obtain attention, it is the selling of
ideas and beliefs but it is no different when Franklin started printing
the first Philadelphia Newspaper some 200 years ago, and the reality to
that is, we as a species have always found a way long before Franklin to
market what ever it is we had to say.

Is it all a genetically predisposed narcissisim?  Not by definition, but
who doesn't enjoy some type of positive attention?  We will evolve
further in technology, to a point where maybe we will no longer need to
leave our homes to attain physical gratification, just slip on the cyber
suit and get laid from translation of data.  Maybe we will have the
replication devices that make food from atoms, like in Star Trek, there
is no telling what the future will bring, but to believe that the
internet has proliferated this behavior is a mistake...we have been
doing it since man scrawled on a cave wall...
*

Musings from Lucifer and the cat

On Island life

In 1, My journal, On Art/writing/creativity on May 13, 2009 at 7:46 am
Waking..eastern dawn light shafts..and coffee of course

Waking..eastern dawn light shafts..and coffee of course

This morning as I sat on my porch at 530 am I was floating, along the vernacular of memory, musing back to a couple of years ago, this same time of year, when I was working at a cafe on Salt spring island.

Saltspring is a magical place. There simply are no other words..

A haven for the elite, who private jet in and live in coastal homes in its wilderness, the artistic community, the back to the earthers..

A mix of those who have, and those who have of spirit. And given the dress code on saltspring there’s no telling whose who, except for talk..

I would get up at 4 am, and then walk along a country lane to the cafe in Ganges, and be the first topen , set out the heavy iron deck chairs, fill and prepare the urns for the 7 am onslought, sweep, and dance to the music.

Invariably the same old gentleman, a crusty sea captain, age indeterminable, looked to be somewhere in the vicinity of 300 years old, with twinking sea blazed eyes, would be there waiting,

“what took you so long?”

We would laugh.

I enjoy dawn, always have, the solitude of setting up solo, the physical quality of the work,…wonderful..

I miss Saltspring, it is a pleasant nostalgia, enter via the ferry to Fulford harbor, and you know you have just somehow slipped the portal to Somewhere Else, one of those places on earth that defy the norms..

Islanders are friendly the globe over, something about island living, and being island bred myself I took to it with joyful glee.

Exit via the ferry at Vesuvius, and you see the huge old tree, debarked and sculptural..a form straight from greek mythology..

Ferry travel is my favorite, I love the pace of it, one shore disappearing, another emerging, the waters between.  My time spent island hopping off the BC coast , solo, and in control of my own timetable was a precious sanctuary in time..

Topography shapes your soul, I was raised an islander, lived on the coast, have woke many mornings to the laughing Atlantic..the Pacific’s another creature.

The Atlantic will always be Neptune to me, the pacific, the goddess Venus..

Tourist season is approaching and there will be tragically missteps on our rocky beaches leading to drownings, the Atlantic gives and he takes..

and we mourn, and we respect..the sheer power of it..

and missive by message in a green glass bottle? Timeless..

grinning, poecatt

Van the man, feed me.

In 1, On Art/writing/creativity on April 27, 2009 at 8:36 am

Listening to Van Morrison this morning..his happy songs..

I have always loved wavelength.

brought back some 25 years to a moment in time, a sunshafted morning, tune wavelength blasting out of the speakers, I was living with a group of other university students, a big old house downtown, half of us lovers,…a strange bohemian mix of jetsam and flotsam,
and this tune …I walked away into the dining room, as everyone and all our cats were eating breakfast..and began to dance in the light shining down on the hardwood floor,

my friends and my lover looked up, watched in silence, smiling, ah , that’s just *cat*, let her be..
it was a happy sweet spot in time for all of us..barefoot and full of the promise of youth..

poetry and philosophy spilling everywhere..

and then several years later, another moment, morning, taking a bath in our downtown home, my newborn baby on a towel on the floor , cooing, kicking, multicolored stained glass play on the walls, the mirror reflecting back pure joy..

these travellers have long gone from my life, my first college live in lover, and yes, my baby..

wavelength..bring the sun back, van..I am so hungry for it.

And yeah, I will dance barefoot, free form..revel
just because..the dance goes on..

Now blasting brown eyed girl..take that you miserable neighbors..
cat

Insomniak

In 1, D/s, Bdsm on April 21, 2009 at 3:32 am

What horror is insomnia.  Restless.  Awake.

Swallowed by the moon.

cat

Doing Power Exchange in D/s Relationships.

In 1, D/s, Bdsm on April 4, 2009 at 5:21 pm

Doing Power Exchange in D/s Relationships.

What is Power exchange in Dominance and submission?

It is a flow of energy, issuing from consensual roles between two individuals.

This energy is ultimately synergistic, that is it flows both ways , reinforcing and shaping the Dominant individual and reinforcing and shaping the submissive individual in their chosen roles.

Just as the submissive responds to the Dominance of the Dominant partner, the Dominant responds to the submission of the submissive partner. There is a mutual set of needs, that meet and merge in a mutual gratification, and in a healthy D/s exchange, personal growth.

Growth is innate and dynamic. Without growth we stagnate. To grow in a D/s exchange, trust is perhaps the most fundamental of cornerstones. Sans trust, growth will be inhibited. We spread our wings, we measure ourselves against bars both intrinsically and extrinsically sensed..

Trust is not forged overnight. Trust itself is dynamic…it is predicated on and watered by consistency, goals met, limits surpassed.

Both the Dominant and the submissive begin a dance, intuitive at first, to see if they have something of personal and unique value to one another.

We are larger than the sum of our roles. The relation between the two becomes a third entity, it is a creaturata that issues from the merging of the two, it is shaped , carved and nurtured by attending to one another, in all our particularities.

To this end, both Dominant and submissive develop empathy for one another..empathy being a demonstrated ability to resonate to the deep needs of the other..to intuit, thru reason and calling, in the service of synchronicity.

Without synchronicity, there will not be growth.

Synchronicity encompasses the whole of the relationship..no one domain should be untouched…we grow into a deepening erotic understanding of each other as unique individuals, a deepening emotional and intellectual understanding, a deepening psychology.

This journey is not linear . It has bumps, challenges, periods of frustration and demands a vision of where you as individuals wish to travel together.

There invariably will be risks, challenges, and periods of intense self and coupled reflection. Growth is difficult, mastery requires practice on the part of both Dominant and submissive, mastery of the self is not the sole domain of the Dominant partner, but the domain of the submissive as well.

A Dominant must value mastery of the self, before they can enter the journey of the mastery of the submissive. From their own knowledge of this journey , they have something of wisdom to impart to the submissive .

To bring it back to power exchange..two elements must clearly be sensed, that one is attaining increasing personal mastery ..the one by directing, the other by being directed.

I cannot stress how important it is that the submissive see the positive and life enhancing results of engaging in power exchange with the particular Dominant one is engaged with.

The Dominant’s influence on one’s sense of well being must be felt, the various arenas that they have mutually agreed to engage in power exchange over, will over time in a growing dynamic, fed by a developing trust, and the actions that spring from that..be obvious both to the Dominant and the submissive.

Intimacy is not a straight line, however, over time the movement should be that of an enhanced rather than fractured bonding.

Power exchange should serve to lift, inspire and broaden both individuals sense of self hood. Yes, I maintain that fulfillment should flow in both directions.

A relationship based on D/s power exchange will impact the couple as separate individuals and as a shared third being, the birth of the results of the bond between, a bond that is unique to every two that enters within.

If power exchange is the template and the electrical current, what is fostered will be unique to that coupling. This is why no two D/s relationships are alike , nor should they be.

We bring our uniquenesses at heart to the core of power exchange.

Happiness notwithstanding, growth is the paradigm upon which it all rests..for both. It is not so much that we find growth in happiness, so much as we as humans find happiness in growth.

Stretching is not always pleasant, in fact it is often painful.

But the stretching should be in service to enhancing our selves as erotic, intelligent, and empowered …not diminished.

No one moment defines this and there is no complete arrival. There is error and trial and of such things the path is taken.

Power exchange is the path. Heed who you enter the dance with. For what is mutually created has such latitude to heal or to harm, both individuals.

Dominance should not run amok, seeking to dominate anyone for the sake of dominating. Submission requires that you bring your head and your heart to the wedding feast at Cana.

The alchemy of power exchange should enliven both.

It will not always be easy.

Think of the new testament story where the master felt the “power” go out of him when his garment was touched.

He responded to the “touch” to the deep call, and his response was to heal.

In touching something deep within the Master’s core, he was enabled to respond as Master, and the woman to receive.

This story was not an impersonal one..they “felt ” one another’s beings.

The exchange unique to them.

All power exchange is at core between two uiniquenesses and unduplicatable in time.

Thoughts from the keyboard of the cat

You Don’t need to Go looking for a Zen Master. He’s here, he is Now.

In 1, My journal, Philosophy..sociological commentary on March 29, 2009 at 3:03 pm


You don’t need to go looking for a Zen master.

I have been thinking about this recently. The Zen master is here now, it is in all phenomena that looms up in your world, both within and without.The Zen master lives on that line between reaction and response. The Pause.

I have been thinking about this recently because one, I’m given to weird flights of thought to begin with..and two, I was surfing thru  D’s amazing blog the other day and came across a post, which apologies, I cannot seem to find again,
wherein he talks about his now passed on grandmother’s, (I believe it was his grandmother, again I stand to be humbly corrected)

phrase that
“the Dead don’t grieve that we know of.”

Well, that kind of jumped out at me, and has been whirling around percolating ever since…
Do the Dead grieve?
Do they have moments of nostalgia?
All nostalgia and futuritus..some of us are more orientated to one affliction the more so than the other, but basically it all seems to stem from one great cosmic loin you know, LONGING,desire..anything that prevents us from being right here, right now.
Present and accounted for.
How many of us could say that we are truly present and accounted for moment to moment? That we are not addicted to nostalgiks or consumed by futuritus?

I want to learn to be in the now.OMG, I see so much craziness both within myself and others..from not being able to tolerate and have the peace of the now. To be unable to face what is in your face.

I was thinking lately how I wanted a mentor, I’ve had various formal mentors of varying stripes over my lifetime..and it has hit me in the past two days

that everybody and everything and every thought and feeling that comes my way is my mentor if I let it be.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

that when I set anyone up to be my teacher above me, they are bound to fall eventually.

That the teacher is everybody and everywhere, a thousand faces, whatever shows up on my dashboard . The teacher is my reaction to it.

The teachable moment, when I put my weapons down, really and truly and let others be in my life as they are, and let myself be , moment to moment with THAT. How I am, how they are. Simple.

We are never going to escape emotion, and who would want to, it’s part of the human experience, we are not going to escape attachment and longing this side of the veil, and who knows if we even escape it the other side of the veil, as Doc’s statement ends..
” the Dead don’t grieve , THAT WE KNOW OF..”

What if they do grieve, what if they watch us and grieve for our pain, our convoluted webs, and the rain is simply their big fat tears of grief for us, washing our faces clean?

I don’t know. I don’t know if or where or how it stops..

I was thinking this morning about the most beautiful surroundings I found myself in a few years back when a couple living on the edges of the Old growth Cathedral forest in this renovated amazing trailer, renting it for a steal,invited me to spend some time there with them, and they were too strung always on drugs to really drink in the beauty around them,

and I would get up in the mornings and wander onto the wrap around deck and listen to the songbirds and want so badly to have a place like that for myself,

uncomprehending why they would medicate something, some old pain, whatever, we all carry it, so far out of them so as to not be in this awesome place.

The awesome place is the Now.

Of course I had an awesome teacher. I had a child who journeyed a full ten and a half years with me, both of us I believe with the full awareness that he could die at any moment,

and you know that was the thing I feared the most, and then finally one day it happened.

And I am still here.

Oh my God, I loved that child like I have never loved before or since. All I had was the now, and the now was sometimes godawful and sometimes pure rhapsody. But mostly just gift.

Maybe when I long and slip the bounds of the Now, in whatever situation, with whatever phenomena, or in whosever’s company..whenever I want something to be other than the way it is..not overall, but right here , right now, when I resist, maybe he does grieve for me.

And says, oh mama, you haven’t learned the lesson yet.His heart breaking…

I was thinking about how all was the now for him this morning, I was remembering him,he was almost blind, so everything was sound, and you could not creep up on that child on long shag carpet.

His head would turn and breathing shift almost imperceptibly..he would be attending to the moment.

I recalled the pain of leaving his hospital room late at night, when he was in, as he often was, and I would never creep out on him, I would always tell him I was going..

and then as I backed out of the room, my heart pounding I would watch his little face, listening, listening.

The Now was all he and I had.

He didn’t tell me he was going when he left for good..or maybe he just told me his whole life..

All I am trying to say this morning, is , stop trying so hard to live in nostalgia or the future, be right here now, now is the zen master, stop struggling so hard to conform everybody and everything to your will..let it all be..let them be, for god’s sake, let yourself be once in a while..

Everything and everybody is the Zen master, when you just let it be…

Not to be confused with complacency or hopelessness..no not at all. I fought for my son’s life the entire time he was with me.
Maybe he fights for mine now.

of course this could all be brought to you by a case of food poisoning I have from gleefully consuming a sushi salmon roll yesterday. WTF knows. or that I have reacted into several things in my own world in the past 48 and been less than ohmed out about them. 🙂

kata karma, rock on

love cat

People of the patchwork Quilt..the differences between Bdsm and abuse.

In 1 on March 16, 2009 at 10:48 am



To my recent post Wounded, T.wrote a powerful reply

that talked about feeling as if one were a “patchwork person”,stitched together from bits and pieces and made whole from our wounding thru a D/s relationship..

Her reply echoed with me, and I began to think of many of us as
“People of the Patchwork Quilt.”

When I was a child,my favorite toy was a ragdoll that I had awkwardly but happily stitched together with my own hands, she had two bright teal blue buttons for eyes, the yellowest yarn for hair,
a drawn on lopsided smile, and one leg was a couple of inches longer than the other..

I named her Flopsy.

To my parent’s dismay I toted Flopsy with a vengeance and could not be bribed from her with all the bought toys in the world.

Bedraggled and worn, Flopsy was loved.

Today I am thinking on what it is we Do or CLAIM to do in D/s,and I am recalling another encounter I had with a ‘ragdoll’, one that I have not thought about in some time.

A few years ago, I did a day long river rafting rapid shooting tour of the Ottawa, there were many on the water that day, it was a brilliant sunny July saturday.

The tour was booked as appropriate for teens on up, and along with myself and my friends, there happened to be a group of frat boys out for a lark.

Well, at one point in one of the frat rafts, this guy pulls out a
lifesize inflatable doll, naked and marked with obscenities, and he proceeds to the catcalls of the surrounding flotilla , to drop his pants, stick his ass in the air, and fuck this doll while mock strangling her.

This did it for the college boys..mob mentality is ugly up close..

At the halfway point egged on,they dragged the battered obscenity into the nearby trees and hung it, twisting and deflating in the
breeze.

Misogyny is alive and well.

My friends tried to restrain me, however I had some words with the coward that had got his rocks off displaying this at an all audiences event day, and I spoke my mind to the tour rep, and later the company.
****************************************************

Yes, we are “People of the Patchwork Quilt”..

In D/s and S/m we often invert language and acts as outlaws for love.

We clAIM to be doing something other than what those frat boys were doing that afternoon out on the rapids.

If fear and limits and raw eroticism are to be healing, than love needs be another player in the theatre, else we risk tearing Flopsy apart in hatred, rather than wearing her real with intimacy.

I’m no moralist but if I’m going to show you my wildchild ragdoll,
I want to know that ultimately between the stitches and the stretching and the wear and tear, you are in this cause you love the little ragdoll inside of me, and because we are BOTH “People of the Patchwork Quilt.”

Both willing to be real, one leg longer than the other, eyes falling out..

S. wrote a great post recently about the call for the Dominant to be real,it is in line with my thinking that what those boys showed that day was not masculinity or erotic but ero-hate…

We walk such a fine line in D/s and S/m…we invert the unspeakable into, as tryst has touched on, a radical wholeness..

The obscene becomes the sublime..

Do you think love and vulnerability matter in D/s? Do you think it can be healing without it? I have different opinions on this….I believe we play as deep as we are, water finds its own level, and occasionally given the power of well, power, we drown..

katnippin catnappin cat.

Ain’t no Angel Gonna Greet me, It’s just you and I, my friend.

In 1, My journal on March 15, 2009 at 3:35 pm

Drinking my morning coffee. Listening to Bruce  Springstein’s  Streets of Philadelphia.

One of my favorite movies, ever, one of my favorite tunes.

Ain’t no angel gonna greet me, it’s just you and I

my friend, and my clothes’s don’t fit no more

walk a thousand miles , just to slip this skin..”

So much on my mind..and it’s poignant. Poignancy does me in. I am not a sentimentalist, but the oddest things shape and carve themselves into a sort of uber nostalgia that dogs me and bites my ass.

Have you ever heard of someone dying from a poignancy attack? Well, maybe not, but it can disarm and disable you.

Poet brain..the opal mind.opacity in all things, the sheer unredeemed beauty that we drown in..everywhere. was talking with a friend recently and I said you know, I think this is why I am a recluse of sorts, it’s like I  have no skin between myself and the world of phenomena, I am constantly copulating the fuk out of beauty..or Beauty is constantly copulating the fuk out of me..

Sitting on my back doorstep having a coffee five am, and I look at the dark stain of a fence paling against the bleeding artery of dawn, and I’m struck speechless. Uberscrewed by the sublime.

It’s a gift, and it is a curse. I rape the moment for art, and the moment rapes me…

So many things cause a pain in my hands, a hunger, an appetite, for what??

And so , I dim it down. Am very aware of the people I let into my life..

For me, this is survival..to deal with the pragmatics of life with such wiring, I  have learned to withdraw and come out in measured doses.

The sweet eros of the world chokes and undoes me..there is an entire matrix in the moment, and I have no weapon save this…

solitude in overflowing spoonfuls..

for those few people who do meet me somewhere on my wavelength , this morning  I am grateful…

smiling, cat