Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area with Sunday 2/23 update
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Photo by Tommy Edwards.
I started out the day feeling cute but bitchy. I'm ending the day feeling ugly and bitchy . . . but more sure of who I am.
After my second photo shoot with Tommy Edwards I am positive that a) I do not take very good pictures unless I can see myself in a mirror, b) my tits have seen better days, and c) my face is not meant to be passive and . . . passive. And I'm fucking glad. I look horrible trying to look like a still life. I am not a model, I am not a bowl of fruit. I am just a regular average almost-thirty year old woman and the *good* pictures of me are something intimate because . . . well, they're rare.
Or maybe I just need to make sure someone who knows and loves me photographs me . . . how is it that out of the 203 pictures houseboy shot of me a couple weeks ago, 172 of them turned out to be beautiful, but out of the 255 pictures a professional took today, only about 50 look halfway decent?? The trouble is, Tommy keeps putting my worried-forehead double-chinned face into the most unflattering positions (with chin tucked down and eyes projected in gazes that I think he aims to be "smoldering"). I look like the waggly-jowled title character in "Throw Momma From the Train". I shit you not. Tommy is truly skilled and a master of working with light -- I am just not a good "model".
Other notes of the day:
I missed the ferry going over by a mere four minutes and then spent 40 minutes in the passenger loading area watching a spindly-legged crab being eaten alive by a sharp-beaked seagull. I also observed two teenage girls exhibiting the hallmarks of vain feminine stupidity in the form of inappropriate dress for the season. It's fucking February chickies: put on a motherfucking coat over your midriff-baring t-shirt and please DON'T expose your feet to the cold puddles by wearing platform thongs, you nitwit embarrassments to our gender!
On the ferry ride home a good-old-boy type sat down by me and asked if I was antisocial. To boil down a 30 minute conversation into bloggable format, I eventually decided to disclose to him what I do for a living and handed him my card. I could write a short book about the conversation, but let me instead just share with you the question he asked me with genuine curious ignorance as opposed to a deliberate urge to be offensive and insulting, "so do you think you have any ethics or morals or standards??"
What I should have said (but didn't): No. I don't. In fact I could, without remorse, happily knife you in the face and then proceed to disembowel you for displeasing me with your idiocy. And then I would proceed to take video shots of me sodomizing you with my fist.
What I did say: Yeah. Yeah I *do* have morals and ethics and values -- I have a very strong work ethic and believe I provide a service to people while also challenging stereotypes people have of women and people in the sex industry. For example, the stereotype that you obviously have. Would you have asked someone in another industry (like the timber industry) that same question? I don't think so.
Anyway, I proceeded to my car only to find out that in my haste to be late to the ferry this morning, I left my lights on. Perfect. Just like a dumbass woman I called my boyfriend to come and get me instead of HELLO calling AAA to jumpstart my car. Fortunately houseboy had the sense to ask me "don't you have triple A?" instead of him driving two hours round trip just to give my car a jump and having us both waste gas driving home in separate cars. It was odd and eye-opening that I acted so helpless.
Good thing I have values and morals and ethics or I would make a terribly helpless eviscerater of men. I can see it now, "honey -- this guy made me mad and I have PMS so I want to kill him . . . could you come quick?"
Labels: feminism, modeling, Pacific Northwest, photography, PHOTOS, rants, sex work, sociopolitical commentary, webwhore insights
I can't think straight right now -- can't decide what things to write about and what things to leave out, what things to do and what things to wait on. So I'll just give you a picture and let you know that the day the picture was taken (yesterday) was one of the horniest I've ever experienced.
Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area sometime in February!
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Houseboy and I had a frustrating experience the night before with me trying to take pictures of him but initially failing due to my disappointment with myself in not even understanding my own stupid camera. I really wanted to take pictures of him in his spectacles but the fucking lights were reflecting off of them and without the lights shining on him everything was too dark. Anyway, enough of the frustrating part. He kept his good humour and pretty much made it impossible for me to just quit and go to bed . . . so we wound up with a pretty good set of pictures of him and . . . even sexier I got to videotape him jacking off. I cannot even describe how much of a dream come true this is, just getting to watch a guy jack off in real life and not be allowed to do anything about it. Since houseboy's site will be friendly for all audiences (male or female), there's no need to throw me in the mix every single time -- he needs some sexy solo content. Anyway, then yesterday houseboy took pics of me (see above) and I took pics of him . . . and another video. I almost wept from being so excited standing behind the camera while he jacked off. OH god yum. What a perfect tease!!
I absolutely love being the voyeur instead of the performer/participant/exhibitionist. And it's not just because I do it all the time for work . . . it's because the role of voyeur comes much more naturally to me than the role of exhibitionist. Most of my seemingly exhibitionistic behaviors are rooted more in my imaginings of what someone would be feeling by voyeuring me.
One of the most fascinating things happened when houseboy and I were looking through the pictures I took of him . . . looking at beautiful image after beautiful image of him on the monitor somehow he became somebody distant and celebrity-like. Staring at his still smiling/pouting/flirting sultry images I just absolutely marveled at his perfection . . . and I thought about how hysterically women will idolize beautiful sexy men (like Elvis and Tom Jones). I have always been fascinated by that panty-throwing/fainting/screaming phenomenon. I don't know if men are capable of that kind of senseless maddening worship the way women are. Part of it is arousal, sure, but it's much more all-being-encompassing than simple sexual arousal. It's like your mind, body and spirit are completely driven by intense brainwashed excitement. I seriously felt myself approaching that kind of hysteria with him yesterday . . . staring at the computer houseboy pictures for so long then finally turning around and looking at the real houseboy standing before me, SO gorgeous I tried to explain "it" (this wacky celebrity worship thing) to him . . . and just as I was reaching for the words he took a step towards me and was almost touching me and I truly felt my guts dropping and my entire face lighting up as though STAR STRUCK . . . ohmygodohmygod it's really him!!!!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!(insert hair pulling face squishing jumping up and down wetting pants screaming)AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! He's going to touch me oh my god it's HIM!!!!!! I didn't know whether to jump into his arms or take a step back!! It was the wackiest feeling! Silly and totally ridiculous, but I felt it anyway.
Anyway, if you want to see just one of the tame pictures of my the "object" of my hysteria, I think that houseboy is publishing one in his journal
Labels: arousal, celebrity, fetishes, gender issues, modeling, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, TURN ONS, voyeurism, webwhore insights
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.
Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area with Sunday 2/2 update
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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.
Labels: aging, amateur, art, beauty standards, immortality, modeling, photography, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, relationships, spycams, webwhore insights