My name is Trixie (aka TastyTrixie). The Wandering WebWhore is my personal blog. I'm a 30-something indie pornographer whose journal covers a variety of topics: mundane daily life, work-related reflection, sex stuff, current events, and more.
We went to Seattle but my sister didn't go into labor so we came home again. It was great to see them though, especially my number one nephew, Mr. Squishypants who's almost three now. We all went to the Japanese Garden at the Arboretum, a place I've always wanted to revisit ever since an annoying trip we took there when I was a teenager. I wanted to return and have everything be tranquil. IT WAS!!
One of the things I miss most about living in Tacoma is walking to the Conservatory and just sitting in there soaking in good, moist air and beauty. If we lived in Seattle I would probably hang out at the Japanese Garden for hours and hours every week. It's fucking therapy, man. It kind of boggles my mind that there are beautiful places -- gardens like these or woods like the Hoh rainforest (yes, I should totally do a WebHOH shoot) -- and people don't go, LET'S KEEP/MAKE EVERYTHING THIS LEVEL OF AWESOMELY BEAUTIFUL!!. And I'm not saying everything has to be totally pristine and "natural" to be beautifully awesome; we were impressed by Harborside Park at the Bremerton ferry terminal next to the shipyards (also beautiful, to me).
If I were to cultivate my own garden, it would be a moss and fern garden. I love how primitive they are. They totally feel like home to me.
After taking a bunch of pictures at the garden and looking at them here at home, I realized I'm doing a terrible job of paying attention to my horizon line or just making sure the subject of my photos aren't accidentally slightly slanted; most of my pictures look a little crooked. I don't know if other people would notice it, especially when there's so much stuff in the pictures, but taking non-porn pictures is always a good (and relaxing) learning experience. I wonder if it's because I'm still not used to our bigger, heavier camera? Using the viewfinder? I don't know, but I'm going to try to pay better attention to that.
Call me superficial, but coming home with much-blonder hair meant so much to me - it boosted my mood and ego a billion points. Our hair-chick ratted and teased it to be tall on top because she has a Rock of Love fetish, so to take advantage of it we did a slutty faux-schoolgirl shoot and I was too in love with myself to stop there, so I snagged some webcam shots:
Just the day before this I went to the mall and wandered around by myself while Delia got a laser treatment. I was in my usual comfortable-slob mode wearing a pair of old black sweats that were falling down (the drawstring broke a long time ago so I try to hold it together by wadding the waist up in front and whipping a ponytail-holder around that wad to cinch it up) so it looked like I had shit in my drawers, nerdy silver tennis shoes, and an old-lady baby-blue polar fleece ladies jacket from LL Bean that was a Christmas present from Delia's mom a few years ago. I looked so old and so tired and so washed out and I felt that way, too. Like I should apologize for looking so shitty.
I had that quintessential "she's given up on herself" look. Theoretically I HATE that criticism and don't care what I look like which is part of why I became a webwhore in the first place; since I rarely feel motivated to dress up and be seen, the thought of being paid to do it and have a visual record of the times I did appealed to me. I'd be off the hook and could always point to those pictures as proof that I CAN look good if I WANT to and have already DONE that. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Why do it EVERY DAY? Of course, there's a slight flaw in my logic since we broadcast spycams and most people paying to see them would like me to look sexy on them all of the time, or at least more often than I do, but whatever. I walked around the mall looking from a respectful distance at clothes and makeup and other ways to improve my appearance, feeling like I wasn't worthy or capable of asking to touch anything expensive and beautiful enough to make a significant change.
The point is that I looked blah and yucky and didn't feel good about it at all. No, that's not the point. The POINT is in the contrast between how I felt that day and the next, when I came home with my hair really blonde and stood in front of the mirror and drew outside of the lines of my lips and filled them in with thick, gooey gloss and frosty highlights and brushed on dark eyeshadow and put on fake lashes.
I felt like magic. Like this is why people want to look like porn stars. Because (sometimes?) it feels a lot better than looking like muted, sloppy shit. And it doesn't matter if I just applied a boundary of fakeness between the plain foundation of myself and what people see, because it felt best when I was the only one looking at myself there in the bathroom mirror or taking self-absorbed pictures of myself.
Why am I hiding the plain truth under all of this bullshit self-criticism and analysis? All I'm trying to say is that looking in the mirror and seeing yourself looking like a hot fucking slut feels VASTLY SUPERIOR to slouching around feeling like an unattractive slob. It's inconvenient, but true. No matter how much I wish my protestations that looking good is a waste of my time and money were true, THEY AREN'T.
It's fucking biology that we want people to want to fuck us on sight, that we want people to be jealous of us, that we want people's eyes to light up when they see us, that we want to advertise our fantastic genes (or that we want to look better than our average ones). If you're a woman (who isn't still shattered by one or more people hurting you because you looked like hot sex and they took it from you) some part of you wants people to look at you with desire and appreciation. Even when it annoys me to be gawked at, it charges my fucking battery. It's absolutely electric.
You want to look so good that you can control a man into paying for dinner just to get a whiff of your hair and stare at your cleavage, that you can render him insensible to paying for everything you need to keep looking so good -- to maintain your value and keep commanding higher and higher prices -- shoes that make your feet arch and sparkly jewelry accentuating all your graceful, slender parts and tight pants and shiny hair and fat, pouting lips and pampering spa treatments performed by undemanding female hands that MIGHT just render you pliant enough to be amenable to saying "thank you" with your soft body. It's an expensive art and time-consuming work to always look like a shiny, animated toy cocksucker and I've never mastered it or even kidded myself that I could compete on that level.
The older I get, the rarer and more exciting it is when I get a taste of what it feels like to BE hot sex. Normally I am the one LOOKING at one of the shiny girls, simply appreciating how they glitter from head to toe, putting so much time and money into tanning, waxing, accessorizing, and accentuating every single morsel of their bodies. Hoping that someone admires and respects it enough to make it worth their while, constantly forgetting that there are intrinsic rewards to looking like honey come to life and taking soft female form and maybe that is enough for them.
My head and body have been so fucked up and bloated and distorted off and on for so many years that now, getting it back on track, I'm at an age where I don't take it for granted anymore that tomorrow I could be riding some strange boy's cock and having him looking up at me in complete amazement and disbelief, moaning about how he can't believe he's really fucking me. That might never happen again, which is fine, but it would still be nice to know that it's POSSIBLE even if I don't want to act on it (it actually feels especially powerful knowing I probably won't). How many years do I have left where I'll be ABLE to turn heads in public? You don't have to be a great beauty to make that happen. Do I really want to waste those opportunities playing the invisible slob?
It's disgusting to admit, but when I pass a mirrored column in a mall I want to make myself wet looking at myself. When I walk by a shiny window of a restaurant I want to see my own reflection on top of people who are WATCHING me and not be able to resist smiling, knowing that they are delighted and mesmerized by what they see. ANY woman can manage if she has time and the desire to advertise herself using resources like bleached hair and juicy lip stains and clothes that highlight your best bounce, wiggle or stride. Resources she can extract from men. It's the OTHER circle of life. It might be a totally fucked up stereotype of gender roles, something progressive men and women want to move away from (or better, switch up for fun -- I do fantasize about being a sugar mama to young women and sometimes men), but sometimes I can't help celebrating it and wanting to WIN at it and enjoy the cheap/expensive thrill of it.
Attempting it often feels awkward and unnatural and hardly-worth-it, but when it works the rewards feed some primal need in me that are so close to my core I can't dismiss them as fake or stupid or unhealthy. There is no pretending we can evolve past this.
Note: originally this entry included more reflection and deeper insight on where my conflicted feelings about making myself up to look "sexy" (or at least presentable) in public (and in general) might have come from but it turned into a total downer so maybe I'll save that for another time. I feel like I should apologize for my undying fascination with mulling over these matters and warn you that they don't end here and I can't unwaveringly commit to any one perspective on them.
I'm already totally embarrassed by this post even though the whole point of it is not to be.
Note: I didn't see the show and am only going on the piece I linked to. Also, it's not that I don't think men -- particularly gay men -- are capable of being brilliant stylists and all of that, the part I hate is the whole "Ladies! COVER UP, will ya? Jesus, you fucking skanks -- no one wants to see that much of your old-ass bodies, okaaaaaaaaaay?" attitude. And seriously, if someone doesn't have style that sets them apart from the people they hang out with, do you really think that personal style is something you can THRUST upon them?
I started taking piano lessons when I was about nine years old. My teacher, Joan, didn't believe in using metronomes and always had long, fancy nails even though pianists aren't supposed to. At some point during the first year of lessons, she told me that music is really all about MATH.
No math = no music. A huge revelation for me as a kid. It's a big truth that's never left me. At first my feelings about it were a little conflicted; it was sort of stressful ("I'm so bad at fractions!"), but realizing that math is the foundation of music (or at least one doorway into building and understanding it) never sucked the romance or beauty out of it. It never made it dry to me. It can be invisible enough that you don't actually NEED to know it or think about it for it to be in there. That lesson primed me to notice as years went by that math and science are built into nature and art and our insides. That the basics of them are intuitive, like rhythm, but the more you know about the math and science of something, the better your music or art or appreciation of those things can be.
Knowing that art is really science has been a solace to me -- art isn't reserved only for a few people who are divinely inspired. It can be orderly: accessed and created systematically. With simple formulas. With a wide variety of tools mixed with individual perspective, personality and tastes to make it seem unique and magical, disguising the numbers in the craft of it.
I shot a set of pictures of Delia wearing some hot Hello Kitty shorts on Friday night and the photos are all jacked up. I'm a long way from understanding the science of photography; I *like* numbers, but they don't stick in my head very well so even though I've read about how cameras work and how OUR camera works I still don't have it committed to memory or know how to manipulate light and settings quickly to achieve what I want. I have to just walk around and fiddle with things until I mostly-accidentally happen onto something lovely. Most of the good pictures I take are the product of luck and shooting A LOT without fully comprehending what I'm doing. I recognize what looks good and beautiful and erotic to me (or at least halfway decent) and what looks bad to me and have a few basic practices for making the former (especially in the "halfway decent" category) and avoiding the latter, but my technical skills are pretty basic.
All of the pics looked dark to me so I bumped the ISO up to 1000 or 2500, I forget now (hence the graininess) and the speed down to 25 or 30 -- they still looked dark for some reason; I was letting the camera auto-focus (selecting the area to focus on myself with these little movable box thingies; I forget what Nikon calls that function but it didn't seem to be working well on this particular night) and adjust the aperture itself until I decided to do a closeup and switched everything to manual (because it balks when we ask it to autofocus macros); suddenly everything was WAY TOO BRIGHT and I had to change the shutter speed. The only thing I can think of is that the camera wasn't doing a good job of automatically adjusting the aperture and when I switched to manual and adjusted it myself then everything changed. It sucked because we wanted these pics to be bright.
The older I get, the more I see that MOST working artists -- writers, photographers, graphic designers, sculptors, painters, musicians, etc. -- are just people who've chosen to do that kind of work. That the only thing that sets them apart from the rest of us is the amount of time they put into their art and confidence they have in devoting themselves to it without worrying whether or not a jury of peers think they deserve to make money on it. Very few artists are people who actually possess something innate that the rest of us don't have; most of it is taking the time to learn and apply information that's available to everyone (or anyone with the resources to do a little research) and then investing money in the right tools and lots of time in practicing. Sometimes I think the most successful artists are the ones who are actually LESS gifted and too stupid/overconfident to recognize that there are other people (usually making zero dollars on their art) who are WAY more talented. Maybe the only way to be a successful "artist" is to NOT be great -- to not complicate shit with too much vision, originality, or diverse techniques and just work from simple formulas to make things that are easily recognizable and accessible to the masses. See also Adaptation. If your work brings other people pleasure does it really NEED to be super duper excellent?
The older I get, the happier I am with shooting for mediocrity. Even mediocrity requires a lot of hard work (for me, at least). Mediocrity is attainable without being a given; you can stand out and make a decent living in a field simply by being one of the relative few to 1) choose that field, 2) commit to it for a number of years, and 3) make yourself known. All the better if you're willing to take emotional and financial risks and make sacrifices for your work/"art". The happier you are with mediocrity the wider your success. I've slowly shifted my focus of "pride" away from "talent" and pinned it on "work"; you can't be proud of having good taste or being born with certain attributes making you better suited than most to doing one job or another. Those are only things you can be THANKFUL for. The things you can actually be PROUD of are hard work, dedication and defying convention to choose happiness. To call yourself an artist as soon as you choose to be one -- to make it your job -- rather than waiting until you imagine other people think you are good enough to deserve that label. Those are the people I admire more and more, the ones who are brave & devoted enough to create some form of art (even if it's just fair to middlin') and are savvy enough to make it a business.
I used to think having to work hard at something or take a lot of time to make something acceptable was something to be ashamed and embarrassed of. If it wasn't easy it meant I wasn't good at it. Now I realize that's total bullshit (even if I still FEEL that way sometimes). The strategic choices and commitments you make to invest work in things that make you happy, better, more skilled, or even just capable of seeing you should make a different choice (I've always believed that quitting is something to be proud of; that whole "quitters never win" line is such a crock of shit). The time you spend allowing yourself to suck ass -- IMMERSING yourself in sucking ass and slowly filling in the void of your ignorance with knowledge -- just so you can become mediocre at something you love and then keep working to try to improve upon that. Beyond mediocrity there are so few people who are actually able to recognize the difference between mediocrity and greatness, there's no reason to beat yourself up if you're not capable of becoming that elite.
Being a "jack of all trades, master of none" ROCKS. It's fun, it's challenging, and I don't love any one thing enough to give up all the other stuff. So I really have to be satisfied with mediocrity, slow progress, and making balanced choices to devoting little bits of time here and there to different things I love. Like making flash cards to learn photography stuff. You're never too old for flash cards. I'm not, anyway.
I am mediocre at so many things, and have managed to balance (with great mediocrity) such a gigantic shitload of different kinds of work that I deserve to be quite proud of myself and my extraordinary mediocrity. I feel so blessed to be in a position to dabble so widely. Lucky lucky lucky, and proud of myself for creating a notable percentage that luck by my choices. For recognizing my luck and exploiting it to the best of my limited ability.
Some of us are able to do our work just because we're lucky enough to have the resources to buy tools, to live in an environment filled with inspiration and/or to be close to people who make beautiful subjects and do most of the art/work for you.
I love arranging forkfuls of food. Ones where I have the perfect ratio of one thing to the other(s). Mashed potatoes to gravy to meat. Raisins to flakes. Heavens to Betsy. It doesn't have to be fancy, the formula just has to be right. Everything pleasingly arranged in relation to each other. I will never be a good cook because I don't want to practice how to be; that's Delia's thing. It's my job just to love eating, every day, tasting and swallowing over and over and saying thank you, honey.. And to figure out how to arrange camera settings like food on a fork, adjusting hole-sizes, timing mechanisms, and digitally tweaking things in perfect relation to the kind of light shining on my girlfriend.
After taking swimming lessons as a kid, I haven't spent much time in pools, but I want to get in the water more often so I dusted off my old rubber swim cap (barely used), bought a new one (the purple one below) and replaced the old broken rubber strap on my goggles. I tried everything on during one of my webcam chats last week and was extremely pleased with the results:
I can't tell you how much I love wearing my swim caps -- it has all the pleasure of a corset without the hassle and expense. A corset for your BRAINS! They're snappy, squeaky, thick and delicious and wearing them reminds me how glamorous I thought women were who wore do-rags and turbans when I was very young. LOVE! I am INCHES away from shaving off my hair and wearing swim caps full time (and paired with earplugs it would be delicious deprivation of auditory perception). Except without the hair I don't know if it would be as pleasurable to remove the swim cap after thirty minutes or more of wear; there would be less hair-pulling, but too much cold to enjoy the slow expansion of the head and hair-floof back to maximum size.
And don't even get me started on goggles . . . this is my LOOK! I think it's totally cool when there's a reflection on just one lens.
Swimming was fun, but I went alone and was actually nervous about doing something new: would they have lockers and if so, would they provide locks and keys and something to hold onto the key while I'm swimming? Would I have to pay for each scheduled event I stayed for or only the first thing I showed up for? Would I be horribly slow and block faster, fitter people from enjoying their laps?
I managed to go despite these nagging anxieties and enjoyed myself, even if I can't seem to swim in a straight line and kept kicking the wall during my sidestroke and wound up with a scraped foot. I love being immersed in the water. I love the colors and sounds of an indoor pool. I love everything being muffled and wet and full of vapor. I love floating and turning and being thick and mobile.
I felt calm and heavy afterwards. It's good stuff. In fact, I went back for more and posted a confession/fantasy today for members that I had about myself and the nerdy lifeguard.
And no, I don't think it's great JUST because I'm profiled in such a warm, fuzzy way in it; it's great because she tells you about a lot of the behind-the-scenes unsexy stuff that get in the way of indie porn being fun. Billing stuff, legal stuff, branding stuff, asshole stuff, relationship stuff, gender stuff, multi-tasking stuff, etc.
Here's a little insight into part of our work for those of you interested in how we get our photos from the camera to our porn site members and blogs:
Every time I post a tweet letting members/voyeurs know they're watching me at the computer "editing pics", I wonder if people are thinking, "what does that entail, anyway?" So here's the process (Delia does hers a little differently than I do, so I'm just saying what I do):
1) We transfer the image files from our camera to a computer where we store all of our full size, unedited image files. We use a usb cable rather than removing the card every time and using a card reader, which seems to be the more popular way that most people do it. Not us, though. I've always used the cable because a) it came with our cameras, but card readers did not, and b) I prefer to avoid handling our memory cards that often; I think it's better not to touch them and expose them to dust, etc. so the only time we remove our memory cards is if we're shooting away from home, fill up a card, and need to put in a new card to take pictures. Estimated time: 5-30 minutes depending on how many pics we took (usually 75-200 per set, and we often shoot multiple sets on one card); it definitely takes longer with our new camera since each pic is 4288x2848 pixels and around five to nine megabytes.
2) At this point we often take a look through the pictures to assess how we did and talk about why the look good or don't. You'll see us doing this with our heads tilting back and forth since pics we took as portraits are laying on their sides in landscape. Estimated time: varies between 2 and 30 minutes
3) We make COPIES of the original files and put them on our working machines. Estimated time: virtually none as long as we aren't having annoying network problems
4) I go through the photos and delete duplicates, ugly pics, pics with bad lighting, etc. Because our sites are homemade with an amateur appeal, I leave in a lot of "bad" pics because even the blurry ones and ones I think are unflattering usually have some redeeming quality (ex. my face looks bad, but my butt looks great, or the light is not technically excellent and the picture's not print-ready, but it still evokes a mood and helps tie the images together so there's some movement from one image to the next). Sometimes I do leave in poses that are nearly identical; the standards for porn sites are very different from artistic photography sites because we aren't trying to exhibit our very best PHOTOGRAPHY, we're trying to give people pictures to arouse them AND meet the quantity expectations porn review sites look for.
Very subtle differences in two like photos can make one jack-worthy to one person while the other is not. Let's say there's an image where I have an enticing expression on my face, but my feet are cut out of the frame. Then there's another nearly identical picture where I my double chin is highlighted, but my feet are all there and looking great. One guy who loves feet will be happy I included the ugly-face, feet-included pic, while another who doesn't care about feet will only be interested in my come-hither look in the other photo. That's why I leave in a lot of less-than-perfect and repetitious images. Still, I sometimes take a lot of time deciding whether or not to keep or toss pictures. Estimated time: 5-20 minutes
5) I open three photos at a time in Photoshop. I use a hotkey I've set up to rotate the image (if necessary) and another hotkey to resize the photo to my specifications. I look at each image more closely than before, adjusting levels to brighten them up if necessary, add more contrast, and adjust the color balance as needed; because we don't use a flash or tons of lights and we often rely on natural light or a combination, there's often a lot of variation in our photos even when we've taken all of them in one location. We might move in and out of different colors and levels of light so it does NOT work to apply a process on a whole batch of photos, I have to look at and edit each image individually.
I also use the bandaid tool to cover up zits or ingrown hairs sometimes. Sometimes I crop and size pictures more creatively if I need more close-ups or really need to get rid of some distraction in the picture to salvage something good about it. Very rarely I will apply filters (soft blur, etc.) to images or just fuck around seeing what those look like without committing to them. We *do not* change color photos into black and white using Photoshop, Well, hardly ever. Almost all of the black and white pictures on our sites were SHOT in black and white.
6) I save each picture WITHOUT optimizing them (making the file size smaller for web suitability) because I want to keep a copies of high quality edited versions of each photo since one picture might be used in a number of places in a number of ways. Sometimes I save duplicates of images I especially like in a "promo" folder at a different size with a border added that I use for posting in our blogs. I have a promo folder inside each edited gallery folder. Estimated time for steps five and six: 30-120 minutes
7) I go through the pictures again to see if there are more I want to delete.
8) Sometimes I rename files so that they will be presented in an order that makes better sense (move pictures we took in the middle to the beginning, etc.). Estimated time for steps seven and eight: 0-10 minutes
After all of that, I build the gallery which is another process entirely.
ESTIMATED TOTAL TIME SPENT ON THIS PROCESS FOR EACH GALLERY: 45 minutes to three and a half hours
I enjoy this process quite a bit (especially if I look halfway decent in the pictures) and appreciate taking the time to really SEE what were making. It's pleasurable, meditative, hot and it makes me feel productive. I also think it's important we do this work (and do it ourselves) because it teaches us what does and doesn't work with posing, lighting, camera settings, framing, etc.
Want to know more behind-the-scenes info regarding our pics? Check out this entry on how much one shoot cost: ARE OUR SHOOTS WORTH IT?
What does this picture have to do with losing one's lunch?
Seriously -- I don't get it. I mean, I *hope* I don't get it. BECAUSE I HATE ASSHOLES! If you're following over a thousand people to get exposure for your site, try not to be a dick (or try to be clear).
I suppose I haven't got any room to talk about how whorey tweeters should represent themselves since I frequently post about pooping. But pooping doesn't hurt anyone's feelings. Though maybe it could make someone lose his lunch. Still, I don't think I want to follow people who have such weak stomachs.
FYI: I may have misrepresented the guy's site in my phone post. And everything else about him. Because I don't know him or what he was trying to communicate. Obviously.
Today I spotted a really good deal for webmasters on a huge stash of hot Russian fetish porn so I bought it and decided to use it to start building a bonus site for our members. Tonight I'll post a gallery of fifty of my favorites; the following are samples from that gallery:
I bought this package not only because it was cheap, but because it contains so many things I love: gloves, inflatables, peeing, smiling natural-looking girls, outdoor nudity, white panties & socks, and a host of other naughty things. It's hard to believe the content broker advertised it as his "ugly girls package". Snort. There's some insight into the porn industry mentality (in case you need any, which I doubt).
My hope is to make this bonus site to house bought content (non-exclusive stuff I like, but we didn't shoot ourselves) and be more of a story site with my own little fantasy narrative to accompany my favorite images from each set. I know! WHY am I starting another project? It's not really a big thing to do, though, and not something I need to crank out or "complete" any time soon; it's more like adding another feature to our sites and inspiration for me to write more porno stories which are conspicuously small in number on our sites as it stands. I like riffing off of strangers in content other people have shot. It's fun/hot, plus I feel the need to bulk up on the stories because a) the types of people who dig our sites also seem to dig stories, b) it offers insight into my own turn-ons which is part of the personality people expect from me, and c) to offer a little more of the type of content women gravitate towards (IN GENERAL; of course not all women like their porn in story form, but a whole lot DO rely upon the written word for masturbation fodder and think huge sets of 200 pics are totally fucking boring). Stories are pretty cool because they don't require a bunch of money or extra people to produce outrageous scenarios; you just need time (which IS money, I know) and a pervy imagination.
Speaking of stories, here's the latest on the "Red Rose"/Karen Fletcher case in which a woman was prosecuted by the federal government for OBSCENITY. She was convicted of a thought crime right here in AMERICA! I don't know how to explain this if you don't already know it, but it should not be acceptable to any of us that the government thinks WRITING about criminal behavior and publishing it IS a crime in itself, no matter how unsavory the subject matter. Even if people are jacking off to it. Especially when there are shows on television like Law & Order: Special Victims Unit which is big corporate porn of exactly the same stripe as Karen Fletcher's, only maybe it's worse because people delude themselves into thinking they're watching those fictions not out of "prurient interest" (which is the language the law uses to say certain media is used as jack-off material rather than some more socially-acceptable form of entertainment - I call it the pornography of abuse and it's how Oprah MADE her fortune) but because it's somehow good for society. What a crock of shit. You cannot flip past that show for ten seconds without some Daddy creeping into a family bedroom he shouldn't be in or seeing a child shivering naked in a bathtub or hearing the word RAPE. People obviously get off on that shit in many different ways. Let me clarify, I'm not condemning human nature here (most of us are drawn in one way or another to the horrifyingly sick, scary and macabre), I'm condemning the double standards that criminalize speech that SHOULD be protected by the First Amendment while giving the entertainment industry fucking Golden Globe awards for the same shit wrapped in a different package and set of excuses.
If Karen Fletcher was DOING the things she wrote about or printing the stories up on fliers and distributing them at elementary schools, well OF COURSE she should be not just prosecuted, but locked up for life. But she wasn't. That's not what the Department of Justice went after her for. They went after her for sitting at home in complete isolation, putting words on a computer and then onto the internet. WORDS. She thought about bad things and shared those bad thoughts with a whopping audience of twenty-nine people who sought out and chose to read them. Would I want to be her friend or have her over to babysit? Of course fucking not. What I want is for us all to prosecute and put people in prison WHO ACTUALLY COMMIT CRIMES. Not just imagine crimes in their heads.
On my simple softcore porn photo shoot to-do list I've resolved to wear more REAL clothes. You know, stuff that can be (and is) worn in public: no stripper shoes, no Leg Avenue costumes, no fishnets.
I just posted this gallery last night with me wearing a bunch of things I love: my all-time favorite hoody with embroidered black flowers (I've been wearing that thing for about eight years), a t-shirt my sister loaned me the last time we went to the spa, a knit cap that actually belongs to Delia's ex-wife but has lived with us for years. I wore the pants in another shoot, but I love them so much and they're even softer now than they were then. They totally represent love to me because my sister bought them for me when she was out shopping. Buying pants for people is hard! I would never risk buying anyone a pair of pants, not even my sister, but she clothed me in soft, cozy legwear.
This picture here makes me want to do a Rosie the Riveter style shoot (won't be any time soon though -- we don't have the time or money to pull off something that good/important to me right now, not to mention I need bigger muscles):
Anyway, I really love this set of pictures -- I think they're adorable and I look palpably fleshy and real.
This week I've got a lot of chat sessions scheduled for any members who want a chance to talk to me. I'm actually in our chatroom right now . . . alone. Which is why I was able to make this post! Think how easy it could be for you to have an awkward one-on-one conversation with me by becoming a member. You could be moving your moist hands back and forth from your genitals to the keyboard while you talk to me about music and toggle back and forth between the chatroom, my desk cam, and these photos without being able to explain the appeal because I totally don't even look sexy, at least not in a mainstream media or porno way.
I'm feeling really blessed to have good friends that I love after spending a few days totally spoiled with good company: Kris Madison and Amberlily drove all the way out to our remote locale so we could have a Sex and the City slumber party (Amberlily's fun idea). Seeing the movie was entertaining, but the best part was just spending time together and having the chance to talk. Half the time we were off cam (in other rooms or out of the house) or had the audio off so we could speak freely, so it might not have been a big treat for the voyeurs, but for ME? It was heavenly. I actually feel *rejuvinated*.
We did spend a lot of last night in bed talking (with the audio *on*) which was probably pretty entertaining for voyeurs to listen to (or not, depending on their perspectives); we had insanely heated arguments (I almost lost my voice/damaged my own hearing with my own high pitched protestations) about really inconsequential shit (which is the best kind of thing to debate). Does Holly Madison "deserve" better than Hugh Hefner who tells her she's not photogenic enough to be a centerfold? Do Tim Harrington's (of Les Savy Fav) performances insult/make fun of his audiences or are they a layered casserole of joy? Those two questions, their characters' milieus, and the surrounding issues were the basis of HOURS of delightful discussions.
For once I don't feel like I need a day off to recuperate after socializing (just a little catch-up on sleep), so before bed tonight I'm going to try to plan a couple of good shoots for tomorrow and get them out to my members as soon as possible.
Connie Francis Sings the All Time International Hits
When I was little I used to play a particular Connie Francis album (like, an actual vinyl record; they had those when I was growing up) over and over again which I've not been able to find, nor can I found on cd most of the songs that were on it which BREAKS my heart. But OH, youtube, you have allowed me to hear these songs again:
"What Now, My Love? (ET MAINTENANT)
I wish I could find a picture of the album cover because I *worshiped* her (along with the "Whipped Cream and Other Delights" girl). Just one picture of Connie Francis, a column of majestic, sensual, unsmiling beauty.
Name one contemporary pop singer who holds a CANDLE to this woman! Oh my god. And her presentation: women are not admired anymore for being regal and occupying an ageless space that doesn't smack of jailbait.
Wait! The photo from the album is displayed in the 25th second of this one (wish it was in color like on the album; her dress was pink):
"And I Love Him"
The muted trumpet in here drives me MAD with its ballsy drama:
I desperately wish this guy posted all of the songs, because there are some great ones missing. Still, I'm so jazzed to hear that voice singing these songs again. I know I LEARNED things from listening to that album, from listening to her and looking at that photograph of her.
Oh dear, here's another one that EXCITED me:
Oooh, I found the picture even if it is undersized:
The other day I solicited feedback from any members who *want* to see me gain weight or enjoy the weight I've gained. This is, of course, a dangerous thing to do since some people fetishize weight gain to an unhealthy degree and the last thing I need, I suppose, is encouragement to gain more weight. I suppose. Anyway, I did get this one fun-to-read comment (which I've abbreviated here):
. . . . the reason I joined first was because I thought/sensed you had the 'frame' to gain weight...or more accurately, the width of your hips gave you the kind of body type I love to see fill out. With that body type, the ass and thighs really expand. And so it is w/ you. . . . Big thick ass, full thighs, fuller belly, etc...when a woman can own this and really rock it, it's just so sexy. I would LOVE to see you facesitting, that's a natural for any woman who is gaining weight and accepts the sexual eroticism of her either large or growing ass. I would love to see you riding reverse cowgirl, so again we can see your full thick ass from behind as you ride - either a face or cock, whatever. Seeing you squat, totally sxe. I could go on and on and have wanted to voice this to you for some time....so since you offered an open invitation to us on this issue today, I'm jumping at the chance. And, yes, seeing you gain weight turns me on...knowing you have this love/hate w/ it turns me on....knowing you're reading this and thinking how it might even have the smallest impact on your thoughts or feelings, turns me on.
Ahhhh, delightful. I only wish I *did* gain more weight in my rear; unfortunately a disproportionate amount of it goes to my belly and chins/neck. In fact, I calculated my waist-to-hip ratio here and it's definitely over the .8 threshold. Still, my butt and thighs are definitely bigger than they used to be so that is, in many ways, a dream come true. It would be good if I did more exercise to build bigger butt muscles; I saw a marked improvement when I was going to the gym and using the elliptical on certain settings. For those of you who don't believe I've gained a potentially unhealthy amount of weight or think I'm exaggerating my belly size, check this out. The balance ball picture is newest, but they all show where the bulk of my fat is stored. Note: I'm not done building that little niche site, but it will have my chubbiest pictures, some of which I've not posted on my main site. It's a learning experience and therapeutic little project of mine.
Anyway, thanks for the feedback, anonymous commenter, and I hope you enjoy the latest gallery of me sitting on a big balance ball; the video will be even plumper and juicier!
I found this video while researching fat belly fetish movies to get ideas for a small plumper site I want to make with my chubby pictures:
Like the last video I posted, I know it's just supposed to be "funny" but I actually adore it (and think the sprinkler and body slam shots were *hot*); you can always count on me to love videos of people dancing and grooving without trying to look cool. I mean, I also love watching people dance better, but even more I love seeing regular people expressing themselves and making their whole bodies giggle and shriek.
I always intended to make a chubby Trixie site, but I have lots of ideas that I don't have time for so I've never done anything with it (even though I have a couple of domains that are perfect for it: JellyRollJane.com and RubenX.com. Right now my belly is probably bigger than it's ever been, though, so I have a few more photos than usual I've been reluctant to post on my regular site AND I'm constantly trying to hide how big it is during shoots; that's SILLY since it would be so easy for us to take about 25 more pictures each shoot that EMPHASIZE my belly fat and would be marketable to a unique audience.
I do feel guilty and self-conscious about even admitting I want to segregate my roly-poly belly pictures from my other photos (the ones where I don't make a point of showing how big my pot belly is); I know that a lot of people like the belly fat and I know that I'm always talking the big talk about sharing myself in all of my natural glory (hence the almost-in-your-face menstruation stuff, etc.) BUT I'm definitely reluctant to highlight rolls of belly fat, cellulite and double chins in the members-only area of TastyTrixie.com. It's still all *there*; I'm not actually hiding it from members (and I do have some fairly in-your-face chub pics and galleries), I'm just not sure about taking it to the next level of really fetishizing those parts of myself and the truth is that I kind of want to.
I remember the first time we shot photos meant to augment the sight of my belly fat; it was SO AWESOME, the feeling of letting go and letting it all hang out instead of sucking it in and drawing attention to anything BUT my belly. Because I am quite chubby looking right now, I could really stand to have some fun with it instead of worrying about people who join my site not anticipating they're getting a chubby chick. And people? Don't even try to reassure me about this one; I'm just being realistic; YES I know there are lots of people who will adore me no matter what. Unfortunately I am neither in-shape NOR fat enough to turn-on chubby chasers to the extent of making a real living off of it. I am average; the best I can hope for with my site when it comes to my body is to attract members who are aroused by an average body type; I'm pretty sure most of those guys can tolerate and/or are aroused by a little extra padding but a REALLY bulging belly with an obvious overhang and many rolls of fat? I think that would alienate and turn-off a lot of my audience; Lord only knows I already do enough to alienate and turn-off my fans so adding the really big taboo of fat on top of that is probably not a wise business decision. Again, it's not that I don't show off fatness on my site (you know I love showing off the backphat, especially) but I'm concerned that if I take it much farther (belly-jiggling videos, videos of me overeating/talking about how much I love to eat/describing how I'm getting bigger, hiding toys & dildos in my folds, pooching out my belly as far as it will go, etc.) that people will be . . . confused.
I started compiling more fat-focused photo galleries today and it felt SO GOOD to look FOR really chubby pics instead of hoping not to come across them. Looking at pictures of my belly hanging over my waistband suddenly became a joy instead of a nuisance simply because I started looking at them from the perspective of people who specifically SEEK OUT that look for masturbation fodder.
While I do have some reservations about catering to fat fetishists, if I just make a small collection available OFF my main site then it won't require a lot of time or long-term commitment (and I won't have to pay for the fall-out of alienating the average-body fans). Part of me just really wants to give expression to the growing magnificence of this part of my body along with some of my food fantasies. I have a lot of specialty interests (gloves, bubblegum, stockings, feet, taboo roleplays, and numerous underground fetishes) but my chub is something I feel especially suited to explore right at this moment in time.
It will be a good experiment, anyway, and for those of you who *do* want to see it and are already members? I will figure out how to share it with by request and/or some of it will show up on TastyTrixie anyway in spite of my reservations and/or could be combined with FertileTrixie; the pregnancy fetish is complex enough that it also encompasses people who like seeing women growing/inflating and might crossover enough with the fat belly stuff I'm doing that it will all meld together in a delicious vat of plump 'n pregnant stew.
Shit -- I hope I'm not talking this up too much and getting people's hopes up; I'm not talking about investing a whole lot of time in making special content like this so DON'T GET TOO EXCITED all ye fans of fat! I'm just looking forward to shooting some stuff that doesn't require me to try to be attractive from head to toe and allows me to express another part of my personality. Fetish stuff can be such a relief to shoot because people don't spend as much time looking at "the whole package"; you are beautiful to them just for having the right color of nail polish or a strong prescription for glasses . . . or an abundance of skin folds and wobbly flesh around your midsection.
On top of all of that, I have always wanted to see more porn featuring women who are truly average/just a little bit overweight and in porn? That's kind of hard to find since the industry focuses on extremes.
I know there are some twisted thoughts in this post and some unclear/contradictory thinking so yeah; I know my feelings, values and thoughts are muddled and maybe fucked up. If anyone wants to leave comments, I'm most interested in looking at this from a business point of view and hearing from people who consider themselves BBWs AND from fans on whether or not belly fat turns YOU on -- I don't want to hear polite reassurances (though I thank you for your kindness), only the truth if it turns you OFF or if it's really something you dig.
Still, it's crazy that this movie (which, if you HAVE to label it as catering to either a "gay" or a "straight" audience is OBVIOUSLY better marketed towards consumers in the straight marketplace than the gay market) is being recognized at GayVN but wasn't at AVN. If I remember correctly, Dacia said AVN got rid of their "bi" category; right now I can't find any of her many posts about this matter and bisexuality in the porn industry so I can't vouch for that detail. Anyway, The Bi Apple at Gayvn is a reminder of the bizarre standards in our society (that the porn industry REFLECTS, but I don't think CREATES) that male bisexuality is rarely acknowledged as common, normal or even possible; most people still subscribe to the belief that men are either straight OR they're gay with absolutely no in-between. That attitude flies so directly in the face of common sense, plenty of research and everything that is readily observable about male sexuality that you can't deny we must have a MASSIVE agenda in suppressing the truth and perpetuating homophobia to the point where we'd rather sound totally insane in the membrane that admit most guys are wired to get off on both cock AND pussy.
I just read Augusten Burrough's Sellevision and one of the FUNNIEST things about it was his fantasy portrayal of the porn industry as an open, bi-sexy, anything-goes atmosphere which it absolutely is not. His gay male protagonist can't get a straight job anymore so he decides to try porn "acting"; when Max tours the studio it's described as one that makes BOTH gay porn and straight porn, and has performers of all orientations lounging around ready to fuck both men and women; there's the star Trixie Thunderpussy (no relation) and the male fluffer, Shaun. Max does his impromptu screen test with Rocky right on the set of "Pizza Parlor Pussy"! If only that kind of shit really happened! It was the most naive, idealized, unreal things I've ever read coming from such a jaded author and just goes to show how little people, even sexually sophisticated people, know about the porn industry. The porn industry is crazily segregated and extremely UNcomfortable with natural variations in human sexuality.
My impression of a lot of men in the porn industry is that they fancy themselves reinforcers of decency and "standards". They all think that they know what All Men Want, they all think they know what sells (if they haven't tried it or don't like it then it can't POSSIBLY be marketable). They are very intent on maintaining their perceived boundaries between false dichotomies like bad and good, gay and straight, fat and sexy, fetish and non-fetish, hairy and clean, women and men, old and young. Blurred lines horrify them and the only stuff they'll accept that pushes outside of "normal" is extreme hardcore performed on women. The only arena where they seem interested as a group in challenging accepted standards is on women's physical and human limits. Okay, we've established women can take two cocks in the ass . . . how about expanding that asshole to two cocks, a fist, a frozen turkey and a barbie doll? And now that we've found that unilaterally referring to women as either sluts or whores or both is easy AND effective how about we really push the envelope by calling them cum-dumpsters and human toilets more often? YEAH! This is really NEW and CUTTING EDGE!
We should all think it's weird and wacky that the more we are able to know about sex and human behavior, the more restrictive and willfully stupid we've become, and the more feminism progresses, the more porn (along with all other media) seeks to put us back in our traditional places. It seems obvious we're in denial and trying our hardest as a group to maintain norms that should have been blown to smithereens. As individuals I think we really need to call bullshit on each other and question our motivation for being so rigidly resistant to acknowledging basic human truths, like, ERECT PENISES MAKE PEOPLE HORNY. Duh.
Does it seem as though I just went off on a tangent, switching from bisexual porn to feminism? I wish I had the time and the brain to do a better job of connecting the dots, but it does all have to do with gender to the point where sometimes I wonder if we're afraid that if men started openly acknowledging how much they want to suck cock that we wouldn't know what women are good for anymore.
Note: I do not think porn featuring women in submissive or even degrading roles is intrinsically evil or "bad" or harmful, nor do I think people should automatically feel guilty for getting off on that; my problem is with the PREVALENCE and thoughtlessness of that type of porn to the relative exclusion of other (and often healthier/more "normal") scenarios, and the ease with which people in the industry accept it contrasted with their disdain for other types of scenes.
Anyway, I hope The Bi Apple wins; I'm going to be watching Dacia's twitter like a hawk to see the outcome.
We saw/heard these guys perform "Patty Lee" last night on Conan and can't stop replaying it over and over again; the sound and performance are SMASHING, embodying everything I would like my porn to be:
I haven't been this excited about hearing something new (to me) in a long time, and I'm SERIOUS that it inspires me as a pornographer/entertainer. I love hearing something so beautiful and defiant and seeing someone portray the most committed expressions of sensuality and felt belief in a way that's so funny and human and TRUE. I watch that guy dance and hear that Big Country-ish guitar and the THRILLING neener of a song like "Been Caught Stealing" and I FEEL the agonizingly hysterically-funny beautiful truth of it; I can totally relate. I'm in love.
We're back home from our Portland trip and 500 photos richer. Well, 498. And of course we'll delete many of those, too. Not very productive in terms of shooting, but what we DID shoot was great. Besides, we were really there for Delia's doctor appointment and also spent a nice evening visiting with our friends, Torn and Toni of KatVixen.com. I realize you all read me telling you how much I like to avoid people and socializing and all of that jazz, so you probably never conceive of how much I actually *do* like people and talking with them, and how hard it is for me to call it a night once conversation is rolling. I think I deprive myself so much of social stimulation that I become parched for it, which creates a vicious circle because I pretty much know I'll want to overdo it when we meet up with people and then need a week of hermit mode to recover my wits There is often a part of me that *almost* whines to friends, "I wish you/we didn't have to go" at the overdue end of a visit. A lot of my issues with socializing/needing a lot of alone time are less to do with preference and more to do with the way my brain is wired and that I just wind up blowing fuses trying to process the extra stimuli.
So. A small (or literally a large) reason why we didn't shoot more photos is that I didn't recognize in time how overweight I am and that an outfit I packed, THE outfit, the one I was all sexed up to wear and use in a teacher role play, could barely be buttoned/couldn't be zipped. I love it way too much to wear it incorrectly so it put me in a bit of a foul temper. It was slightly more depressing than our Halloween shoot debacle where I actually SPLIT THE SEAMS of the pirate dress I ordered. That was sort of funny and I wish we'd have gotten the splitting on tape. Oh well.
My conflicting feelings/thoughts regarding my level of physical fitness: *I think I look and feel fine -- nay, almost exactly how I've always WANTED to look -- for a normal thirty-four year old *but not a thirty-four year old who sells images of her body and needs to be versatile. *I don't fucking WANT to eat less or exercise more. I just don't WANT to! Okay, I do want to but there are about 567 things on my list of things I WANT TO DO ****WAY MORE**** than exercise. I'd rather be fucking blogging, right? I'd rather be masturbating I'd rather be eating donuts while Delia gets ready for me to take pictures of HER. I would just rather be sitting on my goddamned ass using my motherfucking BRAIN, okay? *but okay, I *do* want to look good in that outfit, darlings. I *do*. It's just too perfect. There are SO MANY perfect little outfits. I pretend not to care, but oh, I *do* care, because I want to look so cute and fit in polka dot blouses and dresses with darts.
None of this matters in any real way and it sickens me to even think about it for a moment, let alone go ON and ON about it, torturing myself and others with this fucking weight loss drivel. What a senseless waste of time. But. I think some of my dramatic feelings right now about my body are connected to bigger things than my bigger body. Like admiring some of the work my more cerebral cohorts do and feeling resentful that I don't have time to do more of what they're doing. That I'm bogged down by my visually body-oriented work that begs me to tend to it in such time-consuming ways. That my body right now is my most valuable natural resource and I'm trashing it (I would say that Delia's body is my most valuable resource, but that would open up a whole other can of worms about possession and pimping and shit). That I want my work to focus more on *other* people's bodies and less on my own. That I want it to fucking WORK PROPERLY but suspect I'm rounding the bend where I can't take it for granted at all and it wants me to know that. I'm full of suspicious lumps, I can't seem to get pregnant, and I'm having a hard time disguising my comical bulges.
I don't like to complain about it or sound pessimistic. It's important to me to say that I don't FEEL as bad as I sound. But I *do* need to process these feelings. And remind myself that the reason I do the work I do is because a) I like it/feel driven to, and b) it is part of a plan that *does* allow me to do *all* of the kinds of work I want to do. Some of it right now/all of the time, and more of it eventually. And all of it really whenever I want if at any time I want to drop any of it that I'm sick of. And that's the big reminder, that I can do whatever I want. I don't WANT to stop doing anything I do right now OR I WOULD. I just really crave to do MORE of the millions of things I want to do. Making choices pains me because sometimes choosing to do one thing means choosing NOT to do other things I really really DO want to do (refer to above: socializing).
Sorry if that is all incoherent and vague. It makes sense to me, though. FYI: comments reassuring me about my weight or arguing about it will not be published; it's not the real issue here: the real issue is what I want to concentrate on more than my body. Love to chat about it more, but again, this is more of a reflective post for myself than an informative or conversational post for others; once I post this I want to be dumped of it and move on.
I don't know if I can describe how satisfying it is to look at these photos we've shot, the ones that are beautiful. Since it's difficult to describe without being redundant or obnoxious, you wind up reading more angst about dumb things like body image than daily thanksgiving about important things like how splendid I feel about what we make. I feel wrong even taking that much credit for just being lucky enough to have a camera, a moderately good eye and an appreciation for the beauty of certain things that never get old no matter how many times you duplicate them: black nylons against a blonde wood floor. Red patent leather. My girlfriend's ass. Her willingness to get on the floor for me. The way the pictures I capture can keep getting better regardless of how fat I eventually may get or whether or not I can bear children or whether or not I ever lose a breast to cancer. I will still always know and deeply appreciate a billion and one things that are beautiful and exquisite and erotic and are not too hard for me to point out and celebrate. That I WANT to point out and celebrate.
During my shows today I got the usual questions I get when I'm wearing a tampon and haven't bothered to cut the string. Namely, "what she got hangin out of her pussy?" I feel it's my moral obligation to continue flaunting my string time if only to educate these sheltered ignoramuses.
After my last orgasm I returned my focus to the chatroom only to read a new question, one I'd never fielded before:
"Why is your pussy so flat?"
Ummmmmm . . . flat? Well, here is what he was looking at:
I had to ask him what he meant. FLAT? He couldn't bring himself to elaborate. And maybe it does look relatively flat, especially without any hair on it (a recent change). Regardless, I couldn't tell you WHY mine is that way. It just IS. I was born with a (now) stylishly cute vulva that could almost be mistaken for fake if not for the vulgar coloring, pimples, and hair (when I have it, which is almost always). And as I've gotten older it's gotten more of a pinched pie dough look, but it still has its flat days, I guess. I should start marketing myself that way. STEP RIGHT UP AND SEE TRIXIE'S FLAT PUSSY! Actually, my pussy is not as flat as it looks, though. It's just the quality of the webcam show action and lighting that fucks up the dimensions.
Speaking of the hair removal, I still got a handful of "compliments" on my supposedly still-hairy pussy, even though the actual vulva is now shaved. Seriously? That pussy looks hairy? Color me confused. That is like confusing a mustache with a beard. No, it's like confusing SIDEBURNS with a beard.
A comment from a viewer (SonicSanta) to me during a webcam show I did on one of the big cam networks yesterday:
"Your morose demeanor and wan speech patterns are highly alluring."
Mmmmm, that's me -- alluringly wan and morose!
I couldn't help being delighted by SonicaSanta's remark even though I don't think I was particularly morose yesterday and suspect it wasn't intended to be a genuine compliment (though it might be if he's a Tim Burton fan). I'll have to analyze the archived video to determine whether or not my speech patterns were wan.
SonicSanta later decided my "alluring" behavior can be attributed to me living in the Pacific Northwest.
I own Sheila E.'s "Glamorous Life" cd and it's one of those discs that every so often I NEED to hear. I must have been about eleven when that video came out and on top of being fantastic just because the song was cool and everything about it was so Princely, it was influential to me because of Sheila E. and the way she "performs" in it:
I'm not talking about that one drumstick in her hand for show, I'm talking about her posture and commanding demeanor. The way she kicks that cymbal. Her snappy confidence and the tight execution of every move she makes (again, I know it's a whole Prince choreography thing, but still). And the knowledge that she actually IS a drummer, a good drummer, that was/is a big thing. That video and song aroused so many different kinds of excitement in me, I'm not sure I could number them. So now when we watch her on The Next Great American Band (go Clark Brothers!) I still have so much respect for her that I don't even bat an eyelash at her Christian evangelism.
We happened to turn on a PBS great performance thingy JUST IN TIME to see/hear Jeff Beck playing with a female bass player who looked about fourteen years old, her perky titty bouncing and framed by the curve of her instrument. In spite of that distraction it was obvious SHE IS MASSIVELY TALENTED and extraordinary (and, in fact, over 21). Her name is Tal Wilkenfeld and I am in love. This YouTube video doesn't do the sound/performance justice, but it gives you an idea of what made us stop everything and just drink her in, happy we were so lucky to change the channel just in time:
I love seeing talented women make mean, ugly faces while performing BRILLIANTLY.
It's too bad that when most people refer to something about a woman that's "tight", they aren't usually referring to her sharply, perfectly executed prodigious talent It's too bad that I couldn't stop looking at her booby. Or maybe it's just too bad that the combination of talent, voice, and physical provocation are such a challenge for many of us to process and comfortably accept in one package.
Anyway, I can't think of any recent female pop artist presenting herself the way Sheila E. did or does. Can you?
Going to stop now before I start posting buttloads of awesome "girl"-drummer vids.
A screen capture from WebWhoreHQ cam (this is what I look like right now):
Don't my boobs look . . . flat, elongated and shapeless? Don't I look like a someone with no sense of style who does love the color red and is trying unsuccessfully to have a presentable "look"? Don't I look like the kind of person who would enjoy contentedly explaining that she doesn't personally relate to the notion of gender as identity-shaping?
Do I look like I'm living a glamorous life? Do I look like a pornographer/camgirl/webwhore? Do I look like I even have a sexual life?
This would be a perfect moment to blog about a bunch of things I like to mull over and have been thinking about (and experiencing) a lot lately: aspiring to ugliness, aging, shapeshifting, the sexuality of pregnancy, my plans for my future as a working, evolving webwhore, etc. But I'm just going to continue on my contented way back into bed wearing my dorky flannel and fleece, living the good old American life.
I think we're going to fuck tonight, see.
And I think there's nothing more provocative or challenging than a woman who appears unsexy or sexless having really fantastic sex, or even enjoying just mediocre, regular sex. And having people pay to watch and listen to her do it. It's almost revolutionary, I think.
This is what I look like (right now). This is part of who I am. This is more "me" than Trixie in stockings, Trixie in corset, or Trixie in . . . wait a second, Trixie in red dress with white polka dots is as much me as fleece and flannel me is. Dual Trixie.
Haven't had sex all week except with my hitachi magic wand. Not complaining about that. But am looking forward to a nice roll in the hay tonight. Had wonderful kissing session with trans girlfriend today. I'm very happy.
I wonder how many beautiful women can say the same. I wonder how many of them would envy me versus how many would pity me my life/style.
Just wondering, not guessing. Very capable of amusing myself without reaching any conclusion. I am (and think that I look like) a woman who can amuse herself. Easily. It's called imagination, bralessness, and a forgiving elastic waistband in my pajama bottoms that allows my mind to wander free from the distraction of discomfort.
Being Average: My use of the word "average" as a webwhore marketing tool has changed over the past seven years. I used to focus on the ways I was not average to try to distinguish myself from other camgirls and women with paysites. Hairier than average, more honest than average, nerdier than average, etc.
The longer I do this work, the more I value the ways in which I *am* average, partly because average is charming and partly because of the company I keep online. Most of the people I associate with in this industry are women with similar values, similarly structured businesses, and above-average smarts; next to my friends I *am* average. I now prefer to think of us as the rule instead of the exception; it's less interesting or appealing to me these days to make it sound like I think I'm extraordinary by describing myself as "not your average webwhore".
As I age and mellow into my work and my body, embracing "average" appeals to me. It looks and sounds intimately awkward and fetchingly familiar. It feels celebratory and empowering. Average exudes confidence. I'm also a fan of contrast and its erotic potential: the contrast between a thick, opaque thigh-high sock, for example, and bare skin above it is SO much sexier than a completely naked leg. The same thing applies to beauty, I think. When you notice a beautiful detail on an average (or even an ugly) woman, it's very potent and sensual. When you're average and aging, your beauty and sex appeal become magical: now you see it, now you don't. You become unreliably hot, which is very seductive because it starts to take you by surprise.
The older I get, the less interested I am in trying to be exceptional. The sound of mediocrity no longer makes me shudder; mediocrity sounds companionable. On a similar note, I no longer hate potluck food: cold noodle salads and deviled eggs are delicious!
One of my favorite things about being a little chubby: backfat, shot today:
I went to the doctor to get weighed and have my body composition analyzed; there's not a huge change from the last time I checked back in November. I weigh 117 pounds and about 28.6% (33.5 lbs) of that is fat. Sexy!
Since I got my period again / am not pregnant, I want to hurry and go back to the spa for all of the hot tubs and steamy/salty/muddy rooms that I won't be able to enjoy when I'm pregnant. I made an appointment to go there tomorrow with my sister and get a massage. This is good news for me, but perhaps bad news for viewers; I've moved my chats and shows around so if you're a member who likes to attend those things, check the show page for the latest (I have a couple of episodes of News Flash scheduled to make up for some of the other losses, and moved my Friday show to Saturday).
After this weekend we'll be doubling our procreational efforts, which might mean we cancel a lot of shows and focus all of our sexual energy on each other; good for spycams, but less good for "shows".
And now? I'm going to try to finish editing the photos we shot today, and shoot a gallery and video of Delia.
I'm slightly ashamed and totally shocked that this hair color choice thing has become the most DIFFICULT series of decisions I've made in my entire adult life. It's totally unimportant, yet I am tortured daily by whether I'm a blonde or a brunette at heart, and whether one is significantly better than the other for business and if so, if that is enough to override whatever my most heartfelt hair-color personality is. Snort! I'm disgusted with myself, truly.
Here's the thing: I *AM* THE DECIDER. I have always made life-altering decisions quickly and confidently. I do not agonize over whether or not to do things. BIG things, even. The kinds of things other people spend significant amounts of time carefully weighing risks and benefits over, pros and cons. I do those things too (sometimes) but in very short order. And I tend not to consult other people over them, or if I do I really don't give a shit about their input and ask merely out of curiosity's sake because my mind is usually already made up. I know they might not be the BEST choices, but I'm ready to go ahead with them anyway.
Major and minor in college; quickly decided. Whether or not to leave my husband; instantly, as soon as opportunity arose - out of house in one week's time. Buy a house? Waiting a couple of months to sign the papers seemed WAY too long. Become a webwhore? SIGNED UP AS SOON AS I HEARD ABOUT IT. Quitting jobs, school, friendships: without hesitation.
But whether or not to continue bleaching or switch to darkening my hair? Practically paralyzed. It makes no sense. None at all. I'm absolutely baffled by it and deeply disturbed by my whining requests for feedback from people.
Fortunately I can still look possessed by the sad librarian spirit of indoorsy introversion as an ash blonde:
Now that I've experienced about nine months as a brunette, I can say that blondes DO attract more immediate attention. As a brunette I felt more invisible than I have ever been in my life. I've decided blondes are more ATTRACTIVE while brunettes are more beautiful, or at least prettier than most blondes. I felt pretty as a brunette, but I command more attention as a blonde. Heads turn for blondes, especially blondes with big hooters. Apparently it has something to do with blonde being a rare genetic trait and therefore more appealing to potential mates (at least, that's what I read in Vogue at the gym when I was supposed to be working out). I think it's just because blonde hair is SHINY and shiny things catch the eye. It doesn't matter if your face is a muddled hunk of ugly as long as you've got bright, shiny hair: the boys' heads will spin.
On the other hand, a lot of porn consumers like jerking off to women who remind them of former girlfriends or women they've known in their lives, and many of those women were brunettes. The real girl next door? She tends to be a brunette. Also, the kinds of customers who tend to be attracted to my personality also tend to have a preference for brunettes (if they have or express a preference at all). The dominating (or at least assertive) Mommy nerd know-it-all archetype has dark brown hair, I think. But clearly these folks have found me acceptable as a blonde, so why limit my powers of attraction with dark hair? Oh yes, because this has gone down in the history of my website as my absolute favorite set of photos because I felt FANTASTICALLY beautiful on my first day as a brunette.
And hey, there were practical matters, too; my hair was so much healthier, silkier, and glossier when it was dyed dark. The blonding process is really hard on your hair; I actually have a tweety-bird tuft of broken hair on top of my head that got so fried by my last lightening that it just busted the fuck off. Of course, this was worse than it ever had been in my past permanently-blonde days because they had to bleach out all of the brunette so that was pretty harsh; apparently it's not too good to do this back-and-forth bullshit.
I'd like to bone up on my bible verses so I can randomly quote scripture during my masturbation shows. This would be comical, provocative, mysterious, surprising and bizarre -- all of the ingredients for great entertainment. Plus I already have quite a headstart on the memorization of bible verses having attended Awana, vacation bible school, and a couple stints at a "Jesus Camp"like camp as a pre-teen.
Actually, it's been on my to-do list for quite some time to create some bizarre revival-style monologues on video for my site, mixing crazed redneck Christianity with fiendish descriptions of all sorts of sexual perversions, alternately inviting worshipers to repent AND participate in said fiendish sexual scenarios, either with me or in my presence as the cultish lunatic minister. It's a project I'm so fond of, however, that I'm hesitant to do it unless we have the time and money to do it with higher production values and more writing and rehearsal than usual. Not that anyone is clamoring for this type of content, but *I* would love to play that part AND to watch something like that so . . . someday.
I just ripped a fart that actually BURNED whilst exiting my bunghole.
In about an hour I'm leaving for a hair appointment to bleach more blonde into my tresses. It seems just plain wrong to me, considering that the stores just put Halloween candy up on the shelves and I really want to go darker again, but whatever. I'm starting to enjoy switching it up and am thinking that next time I will try more red before going dark again. WWJD?
You know you're not that young anymore when, in looking for hairstyle/color inspiration, you spot Kirstie Alley on the cover of Good Housekeeping and buy that to bring to your hairdresser for your next 'do. And she makes fun of you for it.
Anyway, I didn't quite get enough blonde back in so I'm considering today's foil a subtle first stage in going back to blonde. I'm sitting in an empty chatroom; I think the voyeurs are afraid to come in and tell me they can't compliment my refreshed hair. Don't worry though, it only looks bad because I took a nap on it and didn't style it myself yet.
Speaking of housekeeping, we continue to care about doing some little special cleaning or improvement each day. Yesterday we spruced up our bedroom a little by bringing in a different lamp with really warm, pretty light and buying a couple of pretty pots to use as bookends. Today Delia divided and tended to an old snake plant from our parlour and put some of it in each bookend pot so now we have green things in our bedroom. It's nice. That's an understatement. Every blogged expression of my happiness is an understatement. Multiply "nice" by a billion.
Life here is surprisingly simple and peaceful considering the multitude of supposedly tumultuous changes we're moving towards. We had some hot sex yesterday shooting pictures and video for my members. The iPod Nano Tucker gave me for my birthday (it was a total surprise gift; I thought the Sports Illustrated with Beyonce in it was present enough!) continues to delight the fuck out of me and makes going to the gym fun and more than bearable. Too bad I have a hard time hauling my ass out of bed in time to go with Tucker/Delia.
I seriously do have "real" blog entries to write, but this will have to do for today.
I know many of you who chat with me regularly are SICK AND TIRED of hearing all this talk of transition. No, I'm not talking about Delia's gender transition, I'm talking about something really and truly important: whether I should be a blonde or brunette.
I've been blonde all of my life, first naturally and then with the help of salons until last year when I gave into the temptation to be a brunette (also with salon help). I really love having dark hair BUT those near and dear to me AND the majority of my members prefer me blonde. My mom, my sister, Delia, and most of the people who pay to see my shows and boobies like me blonde better (at least, the ones who've spoken up do).
So . . . if any of you would like to express a preference, please do so. Seriously, my feelings will not be hurt (it's just hair), I just want to hear who has a preference and if so, what it is. And then I promise I will never ever ask this question again, because it makes me sound like a superficially-minded nuisance.
I'm still a little under the weather today with my sore throat starting to move into a chest cold, so I might be spending a good portion of time in bed thinking about pressing issues like hair color whether or not I should keep searching for the perfect brand and flavor of bubblegum.
I discovered my first grey hairs last week. They're pretty and silvery-white. It seems like a good time, upon this discover and after making my "Trixie as Granny" post, to share a few of my thoughts on aging and how I was raised to think about aging.
I was brought up in that old-fashioned way to "respect my elders". A few of my elders abused that position of being older and demanding respect even when they didn't deserve it, but whatever -- the point is that I grew up associating greater age with greater power. Aging was something to look forward to because it means more POWER; no one said it to me in exactly that way, but I think that's what I learned for better or dysfunctional worse.
My mom ALWAYS spoke of aging in a positive way. Growing older meant growing smarter and more knowledgeable (again, not necessarily true, but is a value I was taught to place on aging EVEN AS A WOMAN, which I think is key and, sadly, extraordinary these days in our country). And it was never qualified, like, "your tits might start sagging BUT you'll be wiser!"; the attainment of wisdom, especially the wisdom gained through aging, trumped everything else and sounded sparkly, potent, and valuable. If my dad had harped on this but my mom had not, I honestly don't think it would have been as meaningful to me as a girl. It was my mom more than anyone who raised me to want to become an adult woman and to believe, without question or conscious analysis, that the older I and other women become, THE BETTER WE ARE.
My parents and grandparents were older when I came along. In this day and age that's not unusual but back in the seventies it sure was odd for people without college educations (or even complete high school educations as in my dad's and grandpa's cases) to have kids later in life. Also, my dad was thirteen years older than my mom so I didn't grow up knowing and looking up to people in their twenties; being grown-up and a mom meant being at least thirty. As a kid it was bizarre hearing how much younger my friends' parents were than mine (especially since they didn't LOOK younger; my mom always looked younger, stronger, and prettier to me than any of my friends' moms). It's hard to pinpoint exactly what I made of this as a child and adolescent, but I think I got a general feeling that my family was special and sort of outranked my peers' families in the age-with-vitality category (in other categories I thought my family was inferior to other people, but that's a whole other subject; in the age category I felt privy to a shimmery sort of wisdom-of-the-ages aura).
I also have always felt a lot more comfortable with people who are quite a bit older than I am and have valued their opinions of me more than the opinions of people my own age. I'm pretty sure that my attraction (general attraction, not always or solely sexual) to older people makes a difference in the way I approach my sites and my customers, and to the types of customers who are attracted to me. I feel this is a boon, both financially and emotionally, and part of what makes webwhoring rewarding to me; I like and feel comfortable talking to men over fifty and often feel I have more in common with them than I do with men and (especially) women my own age.
Going to the transgender convention last week and being surrounded by a whole lot of people in their sixties, seventies, and eighties reinforced a lot of my positive associations with aging. When you see men in their golden years dressed in sequined ballgowns all glammed up with their shoulders proudly thrown back, it's easy to believe that being older means having the balls to give a big middle finger to what other people think and expect of you -- age means freedom and an obstinate refusal to conform. You have EARNED your SELF and can demand the privilege to BE yourself without compromise.
Looking just at these people who made it to this convention (ignoring all of the others of their generation who didn't make it and have no doubt lived tortured, unhappy existences) I believe that people who persist in wanting something they were brought up to think impossible probably live longer lives and retain more of their youth than people who have easy, happy, content lives. It was like watching Tuck fucking Everlasting seeing some of these people IN THEIR EIGHTIES (did I already mention that?) acting younger than I act and LOOKING younger than I feel at thirty-four. It's the kind of thing that inspires you to see the Summerland not as a possible afterlife, but as a place where you can dance when you're old as long as you retain that cheesy-sounding notion that youth is a state of mind best combined with wisdom collected over decades of living.
I'm looking forward to growing out my silvery-white hair one of these days. I think I still have a few years to go before I earn that crown, though.
As an over-thirty webwhore I'm used to being dumped into the "MILF" category by porn people reviewing or promoting me and my site (even though I'm totally NOT a mother).
But promoting me as a GRANNY? Wow! I'm finding my galleries appearing on sites with names like "Meaty Grannies" and "Grandma Pie". AND THEY ARE MAKING SALES so I guess the ploy is working and my granny-like sex appeal is high.
Here is one of my galleries that's being passed off as totally grandma-licious. It WAS one of my favorite sets of pictures but now I'm looking at it through a totally different lens and seeing crone-like characteristics that I never noticed before in every photo. Due to the backlight and shadows on my face, I *do* look rather wizened in this photo; I even appear to have a soft silvery beard that just never caught my eye prior to being marketed as a granny.
I'm looking forward to the day when I actually AM in my golden years; if they're adding forty years onto me now, when I'm seventy-five I'll then be able to market myself in the MOTHERFUCKING IMMORTAL category of porn, as yet to be established.
Haglike queen of the undead fucks young bucks with her magical cock-shaped sceptre.
Vampiric crone sucks the life force out of frat boy's pecker.
Right now is one of those moments when I am IN LOVE with my job, my boyfriend, my life and even myself. Pictures like these ones give me an idea of just how good things are and could be with a little more effort. It all seemed wonderfully synchronous to wind up with such retro sets right while I was reading James Ellroy and my mom's house always turns out great light and ambiance.
I know Delia probably won't be as excited about the black and white set as I am because of the harsher less-feminine lines and shadows, but as far as interesting PHOTOS go they are so much fun to look at. Of course, I wind up criticizing the baseboard heater and radios in the background that are from later eras. I always wonder what it would be like to shoot for a couple of hours and only try to get between one and ten really GREAT photos instead of trying to get 75-150 pics designed to lead to a thorough jack-off fantasy. I suppose we could find out, but I'm not really that curious to work it into our schedule.
What I'm more curious about is how cool it would be to invest in a fixer-upper without having any financial pressure to actually fix it up fast; the idea of having an older home that's kind of trashed out with texture to shoot in really appeals to me. Being able to do messy paintjobs and wacky shit without worrying about "ruining" the house would rock. I suppose first we have to be able to afford a house we can actually LIVE in, though.
Last night we went out for a movie and people seemed NICER than I usually perceive them to be. Everyone (the girl at the ticket booth, the boys at the popcorn stand, the managerial-types manning the ticket-taking stand) seemed so friendly and happy and somewhat sedated, as though they'd just finished eating a really satisfying meal. When I went to the bathroom and got a load of myself in the mirror I decided it was all because I was showing off about six inches of cleavage; people like looking at big titties, that's all there is to it. Or maybe all of the people working there were high, I don't know, but I've decided to attribute it to my boobs.
Overall I looked like a dumpy middle-aged broad who has "let herself go" -- pasty-faced, semi-haggard, wearing too-long-in-the-crotch unstylish sweat pants paired with a baby blue fleece jacket that looks EXACTLY like something a geriatric woman would wear to a bingo parlour. But in the middle of it all was that shining beacon of hope: deep cleavage pointing down to my tight pink tank top.
I have a sneaking suspicion that if I were a younger woman who looked like the total hot package that people wouldn't have been so nice, but you just can't resent a chesty lady who looks all worn out. I guess it's cute, in a way. Still, I was a little embarrassed about how much boob I was showing off so I zipped up my elder-wear when I realized I could almost be considered indecent.
My theory is that there's just something about blondes and big tits that catch people's attention; if you want people to look at you warmly, you should experiment with one or the other. People love that shit, men and women alike. Of course, I'm not *endorsing* superficiality, but you can't deny that there are certain characteristics in people that catch other people's eyes (and some of them more than others). All I'm saying is that blondeness and bustiness are two of those certain characteristics that rank WAY UP THERE along with "great smile" and "nude-in-public".
Speaking of superficiality, one of the reasons I loved Blades of Glory were the COSTUMES. The little princess in me didn't even GET the joke of Jon Heder's outfits; I thought his off-ice ensembles were SO fetching and sparkly that they made me feel all twinkly inside. It was refreshing to acknowledge there's a nine-year old inside me who wants to grow up to look AND ACT just like Jimmy MacElroy.
SOME GIRLS LOOK GOOD SUCKING COCK . . . . . . other girls? Not so much.
While I edited a POV blowjob video (shot from Tucker's "point-of-view" looking down at me ) I was once again disappointed by how alien my face looks from that angle. Alien as in "different" because I don't ever look at myself from the scalp downwards, but also alien as in "of the giant forehead and great big eyes". Like the greys, you know what I mean? Since the camera is closer to my forehead than any other facial feature, of course that is what looks biggest. Next, eyes. And then my nose, which isn't tiny and doesn't really benefit from enlargement. On top of that, I have a heart shaped face so it just looks like I'm this giant upper-half of a face, with a miniature jaw. I frequently look bizarre, like a praying mantis. And when I'm really going down on the cock and have as much of it as I can in my mouth? I look like a sunken-cheeked crack whore.
But I'll stop complaining since, you know, it's still really hot. And I snagged a lot of stills from it that I actually love. And even my crooked teeth looked sexy to me, reminding me that the Japanese actually have some kind of a fetish for crooked teeth; I don't remember the term for it, but apparently they think it's really cute. Of course you can't really give too much credit to the Japanese aesthetic when they're the ones who freed and made a celebrity artiste out of Issei Sagawa, a guy who cannibalized a big strong creamy-skinned Dutch lady.
While it would be most entertaining for me to show you lots of samples of me looking like a pale bug-eyed martian, it's probably better for business if I show you some of my favorite cocksucking (well, licking, etc.) snags with only one image of my totally-distended face:
Anyway, not all people really prefer to see a "pretty" face sucking cock. Sure, there are lots who *do* hold the prettiest cocksuckers in high esteem, but there are others who think the stretched-out features of a sexy-ugly face deep in hungry concentration are the best. You might also be surprised at how many guys fetishize tongues and open, empty mouths; lots of guys will specifically request (in porn and camshows) that you pose for them with your mouth open wide and your tongue sticking out. They will jack off to you just rolling your tongue out and laying it as flat as you can for them to imagine shooting their loads. This can be a difficult pose to maintain for more than a minute, but it really does the trick for some people.
But back to the most important topics at hand: me and my vanity! When I see my wrinkled forehead in photos and videos it REALLY makes me want an injection of botox more than a gloppy load of cum on my tongue.
LATEST SEX DREAM Which one of these people from Curb Your Enthusiasm do you think I had a wet sex dream about last night?
I doubt it will come as a shock to those of you who know me, but it was that "fat fuck" Jeff.
While I tend to get hot over chubby guys, I don't think I've ever consciously acknowledged my lust for Jeff. But last night I had a few sex dreams (one of them also involved Nathan Fillion after a very long slide down a spaceship/spacestation slide, red black and metal, miles of sliding on a tube) and the most fulfilling and enchanting had to do with Jeff.
Panties. I had many pairs of my favorite panties in hand, ones that I'd already worn a bit so some already had that good pussy smell on them. I also had an assortment of whore friends and I wanted to throw a little panty party with strange middle-aged men I randomly picked up and invited over, knowing they would appreciate the sexual nature of my play without actually pushing for SEX. Jeff was one of the attendees. I kissed him and kissed him and kissed him while he smiled, but alas, we never got to the panty part due to my dream taking an anxiety-riddled turn into car accidents. But I woke up wanting JEFF.
Where does a lust for this guy come from? Is it the way he's always so clean and tidy and fetchingly-clothed in Curb? Is it his submissive nature in the show? He's never grotesquely submissive in an attention-whoring squirmy manipulative way, but he's just so laid back even when Suzy is screaming that he's a fat fuck. Maybe that's what makes me so hot for him. Or maybe it's that someone who's THAT heavy probably isn't going to have the energy to fuck YOU, instead he'll just lay back and let you fuck HIM with a smile on his face. No pain, no ruthless pounding, complete control. At least, maybe that's the way I envision it in my horny subconscious mind.
Mmmmm . . . perhaps that more youthful pic reveals more of the attraction. Plus there's something about his voice I like, maybe there are traces of his Chicago history in it, or maybe it's just the slightly-wheezy squeezed voice of a fat fuck. I don't know. It makes me hot. I have a couple of other fat fuck crushes I've been meaning to blog about, so maybe it will all fall into place when I do that.
Note: if my use of the term "fat fuck" is offensive to you, allow me to point out its part of the show, Curb Your Enthusiasm (and if you haven't watched it, you damn well should). I was never a big Seinfeld fan, but Larry David of Curb? FAN I AM.
Full Gallery appearing now in my Members-Only area. JOIN NOW for access to ALL of my pics (full size) & vids!
I love the way this gallery turned out . . . very wintery. I especially love my pink SOCKS . . . it's like having pink cable knit racing stripes being painted up my legs. It feels like such a fantastic decoration to highlight the curves of calves, the bend of knees, and the plump smile of the calf rounding up under said bent knee.
100 MILES OF BAD ROAD Today's "interesting" observation, made by viewer "Bob" during my group show while my legs were spread:
"That pussy looks like its had a lotta miles put on it."
Awwww, now ain't that sweet? You've got to wonder what the odomoter looks like on Bob's smart-ass mouth, or on his jerking hand because I'd venture to guess he hasn't gotten much pussy in his life.
But hey, could he have meant it as a compliment? I mean, I shouldn't be hasty and assume that the guy has a preference for tight, hairless, underage twat just because he thinks my pussy looks all broke-in like an antique jalopy. I mean, what's more welcoming than a soft, hairy, wet wrinkled snatch? My pussy *has* had a lot of miles put on it. I've used my hot pocket and then some. Why should I assume he meant to be insulting? And even if that was his intention, what the fuck do I care?
Who knows what this specific guy meant by his little anatomical observation (not that I think my pussy looks all that different than it did ten years ago); all I know is that I cannot stand guys who critique a woman's genitalia as though there's a right kind or a wrong kind, or as though the color, shape, or size of anything down there is any guaranteed indicator of what it's been used for and how often.
Sometimes I wonder how much time other amateurs spend putting together galleries for their updates. I suspect that I waste more time than most doing very silly things that other people automate. For example, I relish picking out a font for my domain name that will fit the mood of the photos. Then I waste a bunch of time placing my domain name image onto an appropriate spot on the photo that won't cover anything up. I enjoy seeing the way the colors and the shadows and everything compliment each other. It's ridiculous how much time I spend on these little tasks. But I like it.
Another thing I wonder about is the interplay between vanity, porn standards, market demand, individual fetishes, reality, legacy-building and "art". I find myself sorting through hundreds of pictures of myself trying to pick through them and create an enjoyable gallery for members. It's HARD though. All of these conflicting demands vie for my attention. First of all, I myself have a short attention span so I don't really like looking at galleries of more than 25-30 pictures. I find it very repetitive and boring and wind up really not relishing a few really sexy images -- it's almost as though as soon as I see allllllllllllllll those pictures I find myself aware of the clock and that I need to hurry up and scroll through them. Perhaps this is just a function of my femininity though? Maybe guys don't think that way. Plus most people in the internet porn industry slap together huge galleries of 75 or more pictures. But then again, lots of those galleries are built around girls who are flawless looking. Frankly I wind up with a very mixed bag of content. I have a few really flattering images (a VERY few), a lot of pictures that cater to individual fetishes (hairy, freckles, natural tits, etc.) that a lot of people withOUT those fetishes don't really find appealing, and a lot of images that are artistically interesting but antierotic.
When I look at pictures like the one above I'm just not sure what to do with it. It certainly doesn't depict me at my aesthetic BEST (see the chin fat, the exhausted expression, etc.) but it's an appealing image. I think it would be more appealing to me if I were looking at a stranger though instead of myself. And then there's the problem of it being on a "porn" site. Well . . . I don't really think most of the stuff in my members area is "porn". Although I love the porn title and feel it's important to commit myself to challenging the stereotypes associated with the word (and the only way to do that is to call what I do "porn") . . . really a lot of what I love making most is stuff that you would find shoved into a library book and accidentally left there. Seriously, that's what I imagine most of the words and images on my site are really meant for . . . to be discovered with no explanation and no context. Just intimate photographs and jotted notes for someone to discover and wonder about, unable to decide if the women they're looking at are ugly or beautiful, average or exotic, rare or commonplace, passive or aggressive. Unable to do more than imagine what the circumstances were surrounding the taking of the pictures or their lives in general.
I'd love to make a site (or *something*) like that and have fantasized about it before . . . something the captures the trespass of finding something that wasn't meant for you but that you long to keep and wish you understood better. The kind of thing you want to stick under your mattress or save in a shoebox. The only hard part about doing a site like that is that with guest content I wouldn't be able to give credit back to the models without destroying the mystery of the whole thing. MMmm. . . or maybe not. Maybe there could be little "unveil the mystery" links. And of course I could always pursue photography more and then I wouldn't be under any obligation to give the models any credit at all. Sigh. One of a million unpursued ideas I have . . .
Speaking of doing more photography, I put an ad in the local paper for naughty people to pose for me. And I have fantasized about approaching young girls like an old rotten-toothed pervert. My sister and I were in McDonalds a few weeks ago and the girl behind the counter was fucking angelic. She was plump and had the sweetest face. So far I haven't seen any barely-legal chubby girl sites (although I'm sure they're out there) -- the teen sites always seem to focus on the skinny underdeveloped set. But seriously, the baby fat look is just as provocative and sexy, I think. Anyway, I wondered if there was a way I could give this girl my card without totally scaring the shit out of her and having the law on my ass.
Anyway, back to my competing demands when putting together content for my site; somehow I feel like honoring those competing demands in a very inconsistent way that is my "special purpose" or comprises the personal "legacy" I am supposed to be building with my life. Although I feel conflicted about it sometimes and hypercritical of it, I LIKE that what I do is a mixed bag of all kinds of stuff: the thoughtful and the careless, the priceless and the cheap, the mainstream and the marginalized, the captivating and the repulsive, the dirty and the sweet, the pretty and the unpleasant, the hard and the soft, the forced and the natural, blah blah blah.
I don't think that most people understand that when a girl has pictures made of herself . . . it's not porn, it's immortality. It's the fountain of youth. It's enduring proof that she's a sex object in hard copy just like a girl in a magazine or Jesus's words in a red letter edition of the bible.
DOWNSTAIRS It's really odd . . . houseboy is downstairs learning Premiere (Adobe video editing software) on the laptop while I'm upstairs working on galleries. We've exchanged a few emails this way (yes, we're in the same fucking house and we're emailing each other) and I find myself really enjoying it. I like being close but a little removed. Communicating without speaking.
Hahahaha! He just sent me an email telling me to quit slouching (he is checking on me on the spycams). Hehehe.