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.
I must've had my head up my ass when I worried that reserving a cabin for three nights was too LONG for a porn-shooting trip without running water or electricity or phones or internet of any kind. More like NOT LONG ENOUGH.
Being in the woods on the Olympic Peninsula, the proper WET woods southwest of us (unlike what we have here in the dry rainshadow), always feels like heaven to me. I'm not exaggerating: HEAVEN. Like what it would/should look and feel like if there were to be that kind of a fantasy afterlife (except I wouldn't have to be scared of having my scalp ripped off by a cougar in heaven, but I digress).
Anyway, it was great. FANTASTIC, the level of peace and tranquility I felt there. The lack of pressure and the way everything worked out just right. The way we had so much beautiful SPACE to sprawl out and shoot in with very little chance of intrusion. The way the weather couldn't have been more perfect. The way we walked for miles.
And when we got home? I pretty much instantly fell apart into a nervous wreck.
It's not that I think running off and living a "simple" life is the Answer to All My Problems or something I want on a daily basis (I don't), but experiencing it for a few days did highlight some of the things that I desperately need to fix in real life (like not having so MANY options and obligations every second of every day).
It's a small fix, but we're going to get rid of DirecTV completely and of course just keep plugging away on the usual stuff with a better reminder of what we could have if we got ahead, just a little bit: the freedom to fall behind and drop out more often . . . AND make better porn because of it. It's amazing how doing so much of my job every fucking day gets in the way of DOING MY JOB RIGHT.
Also, I have serious problems being distracted by every day life and PEOPLE and the noises they make and our computers and all of our shit, though, so coming home was like putting my head in a blender after all of that peace and quiet and fresh air. I know it sucks for voyeurs who want to watch a blissed-out horny woman rolling around in ecstasy or at least looking fresh and cute and bisected by cleavage but instead get me, frowning and muttering under my breath about how I'm going to shoot myself in the head if trivial problems and distractions interrupt my flow just one more fucking time. I am so sorry that has been the story of my lifecams for far too long.
Anyway, I would manually scratch all the skin off my left arm using the fingernails of my right if it would mean I could spend a third of my life in a cabin in the woods, peeing outside and eating pickled sausage on the back porch. Unfortunately I'll have to go about things the hard way: plodding forward, tiny steps at a time.
FYI: I'll try to post more about the magic of our little cabin experience. Also, I'm posting the rest of these pictures of me by the river on Monday for members. Delia is posting a set as I type this: see SAMPLE HERE - it is SO FUCKING AWESOME to be able to get almost any angle you want from whatever distance you want unconstrained by four walls.
Some of you've been wondering how our family get-together with my brother went after my agonizing in this post; fortunately, it went fine but I'm still so glad it's OVER so I can stop stressing out over it.
We made the trek out to my mom's yesterday and had a fairly nice visit. Sometimes I worry that Delia's just receding into the background and that some of that's my fault, but then it always seems that one person in a couple is the quiet hanger-back. Like my brother's wife who mostly hung out in the kitchen. Some people are so quiet and pleasant those of us who are more obnoxious just naturally steamroll them.
Anyway, there was no mean-spirited or overt bullshit to be had towards us, though I did wonder when thank you's for the presents we brought came from the kids and I got all the hugs and thanks why that was . . . because I'm the one who's actually related to them (though haven't seen them in eight years, since one was newborn)? Because Delia's trans? Because I didn't do a good job of introducing Auntie Delia? Or just because I was the one standing there with open arms, like "HUG YOUR AUNTIE, DAMMIT!" while Delia was behind me on the couch and less accessible/approachable/talkative? And then that firm handshake my brother gave Delia after hugging me goodbye seemed to have an awkward masculine edge to it, but whatever.
On our way home from our family visit we got together briefly with AmberLily and her husband (Tiny aka BigD) who is too witty and well-read for me to get his jokes which mostly seem to consist of teasing us for being Democrats. They go right over my head and I wind up staring at him, completely bewildered, wishing I could keep up. Fortunately he's nice enough to try to meet in the middle, patiently reminding me, for example, of my Third Amendment rights (so I could understand the joke he was making) even when I obtusely ignored his explanation. Maybe if we got to spend more time hanging out then AmberLily wouldn't have to try to translate for us, "and now BigD is joking; that was a reference to the obscure blank and blankety blank." Anyway, I hope I haven't gotten them banned from their local McDonald's because I kept saying the "F" word and loudly talking about wet WET pussy, something I'm far more familiar with than our Constitution.
My point is, I love them and BigD should be an internet celebrity.
Normally when we go back to the area east of Seattle where I grew up I'm thankful we don't live there, but yesterday the summer air was too seductive and familiar for me to not want to have more of it. It smelled heavily of home, especially driving through shady places along rivers. My mom's yard felt so lush and green and bushy and the porch was so . . . porchy? With the screen door? Our dog looked like she was going to melt right into the cool grass, unlike here where all the grass is dry, short, and totally dead. It smells like saltwater and high wind and dry things where we live, but where I grew up it smells like a humid valley in the summer where every dog bark is magnified - sounds don't blow away where I grew up. I hate that, but it's still home.
I tossed and turned for hours last night and eventually got really aroused so I woke Delia up slowly by playing with her nipples, first over her shirt and then under her shirt. Then I rearranged her arm, spreading it out along my pillow so I could nestle against her and start sucking her tits, moving my hand down to play with her cock (which I eventually sucked too, but just a little because mostly I wanted to fuck her).
Almost every single doorknob in this house is busted or only half-works, including the one to our bedroom. With the windows open in the house all night to keep us cool in the warm weather, our bedroom door gets sucked open and slammed shut. Last night a phantom breeze opened so I let it stay that way even though my mom was asleep in our guestroom down the hall. I knew she wouldn't wake up, but still tried to be quiet. For once it was Delia instead of me who couldn't be quiet. Her boobs are SO sensitive.
Sometimes when I can't make noise during sex it sucks, and other times it allows me to focus even more on the sensations I'm feeling. Like last night when I came. Hard, clamping down. And then made Delia come inside me.
I still couldn't fall asleep so I sort of meditated on the feeling of stickiness where my ass cheeks meet my thighs and smelling my pussy and her semen all mixed together on my fingers. Eventually I turned on my booklight and looked at my fingertips shining from the moisture reflecting the blue light.
We had a really nice visit with my mom who drove all the way out here spontaneously to spend a couple of days with us. It worked out well without any other family here and with the weather nice enough to get out of the house. My mom needs to have activities and I guess so do I when we're together because otherwise all of the chatting winds up getting to me. We tired her out with a long walk and before that I took out an instructional stretch DVD, one that I've given her a copy of along with a yoga mat but that she never uses (I used to call her every day to ask her if she'd done it, but it didn't help her and just seemed to make her feel guilty). I worry about her lack of flexibility because she's getting older, but mostly because I know how much better *I* feel when I spend even a little bit of time stretching on a regular basis. I wanted her to see how easy it is just to do five minutes of it without going all crazy and still get something positive out of it.
Later we got on the subject of Bea Arthur dying and my mom started crying. My mom is now the same age as the characters were on The Golden Girls. She said it seems like it was just yesterday that show was on and now Dorothy and Sophia are dead. She said it made her realize how little time she might have left -- what a small window of opportunity she has. My hypersexed mom even admits that now she sometimes gets sick of her boyfriend wanting to have as much sex as he does.
I don't know if it was because of that in part or in whole, but last night my body felt powerful and I felt younger than I have in a long time. I felt supple and juicy and ripe and full of energy. I felt like my body was tall and everything was in line. My breasts felt big and ripe and heavy and swinging. I felt like an hourglass with the top and the bottom perfectly balanced. I actually felt graceful instead of unwieldy when I climbed on top of Delia. I felt potent and came fast without getting out of breath.
I was still awake later while they were asleep. I crept around the house. I made something to eat in the kitchen. I looked at the moon mostly hidden behind the clouds and a bright planet that must have been Jupiter sparkling to the east of it.
I'm like my mom in a million ways, but unlike her in a million others. Mainly I am just younger than she is. I guess it should be hard to see my mom struggling with her own life changes and not knowing where she's going -- it IS hard -- but I also can't help celebrating, first that she seems more focused on one important thing instead of a million trivial distractions from the one thing and second, celebrating myself and where I am and what I have and all that I still have to look forward to. That my mom has challenges, but she STILL has a lot of opportunity and a lot of growth and good health to enjoy and grapple with (and I have all of that to look forward to also -- but MORE of it). That she is better off than her mom is and was at her age. And that I'm so so SO much better off than either of them were when they were mine. Inside and outside and in every conceivable way. And that makes my life and my body and where and how I'm living them feel like a huge evolving miracle that I have a RESPONSIBILITY to celebrate partially on their behalf, fucking and walking and dancing.
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.
If my "porn" were standing before the judges on American Idol, Simon would totally call it self-indulgent nonsense. Like shooting almost entirely non-nude sets of pictures with a ren-fairish flavor just because I REALLY LIKE WEARING LONG VELVET DRESSES AND THIS IS MY FAVORITE NECKLACE AND I LIKE PRANCING AROUND IN THE FOREST!! From my latest members-only update:
Most people don't "get" non-nude or softcore porn, and I do think there's a bigger market for straightforward explicit hardcore sex (and I myself prefer to masturbate to fairly explicit, genital-oriented content, though not the generic kind), but make no mistake . . . there's definitely a market for the soft stuff. I'm not sure, but I'm *guessing* that its appeal diminishes the older the model gets, but I could be wrong. I *hope* I'm wrong. Because I will proceed as though I *am* wrong about that. Because I'm totally a self-indulgent softcore kind of lady. Well, not totally. Which is what makes my site difficult to categorize since I love hardcore stuff, too.
Running a personality site means I'm selling myself -- intimate access to WHO I am -- as much as jack-off material (which is everywhere nowadays for free), but maintaining a balance can be a challenge particularly since the balance other people want to see really varies. There are a lot of people who think the porno stuff is boring and others who think the "self-indulgent" softcore/personally revealing stuff is boring. I don't get that information from my own members (who I guess usually know it's futile/counter-productive to complain about what I do/don't do), but from surfing around and reading the variety of opinions/assumptions on this matter. I gave up on trying to please "everybody" a long time ago, but still feel self-conscious sometimes KNOWING that people will look at some of what I put out there, particularly something they paid for, and will be dissatisfied. Even when you know you can't please everybody, you still feel crappy sometimes that you can't. That you know someone will be distinctly UNhappy because you're older, because you're too nasty, because you're not nasty enough, because you're shaved, because you're hairy, because you're too quiet or not quiet enough. It's a constant challenge to silence that chatter in your head of what other people might be thinking and listen only to what you yourself want and think. But when I do, I hear that I want more cheap, stretchy, crushed-velvet dresses from the thrift store. I want more of the scenery I love that is home to me. I want more cleavage and swooning and vulgar meaty thighs.
I like being suggestive without fully delivering. I wonder how much of that's a (mostly) chick thing -- enjoying having a scene set and characters drawn and then using your own imagination to fill in the blanks to your own liking whereas (most) men want all of the blanks filled in for them in explicit, glossy detail. I have actually been thinking about duplicating and reformatting the way I present some of my softcore picture sets in order to fill in some of those blanks, or ramp up to the nudity in a way that makes it feel more like a money shot once you get to it, but I'm not sure I'll ever have time for that project. I think it would be very effective, though.
Lately I feel a little tempted to stop updating my site as frequently and focus more on marketing Delia's site. Financially, that would make a lot of sense, but I don't want to do that. The fact that Delia's site significantly outsells mine does free me up to think of her site as the bread and butter that allows me to totally fuck around on mine and do whatever I want without worrying that we'll lose our main source of income when I alienate all of my members. Not that this would happen, but the appeal of Delia's site compared to mine does give me a sense of freedom that it's not all about me. It doesn't all rely upon me. That's a huge relief that allows me to end these annoying trains of insecure thought on a positive note and go back to indulging in my own flights of fancy. In the forest! Twirling around in a long dress! Wearing a gypsy necklace with amethysts! And what more do people want than my boobies, anyway?
Yesterday we were obligated by desire and blue skies to take a walk in the middle of what would be normal-people's work day.
Right now I feel like taking a month long vacation. Not a real, TOTAL "vacation", but a chance to actually catch up on work with some breathing room to get healthy. There's nothing horrible going on in my life; everything is pretty awesome . . . except that I sometimes feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm feeling optimistic about it though now that I'm starting to understand why and commit to fixing the problem(s). I *really really appreciate* those of you who've taken the time and shared of yourself to suggest I look into getting my thyroid checked.
I could blog about this and all things related to it for hours, but now's not the best time to do it justice and make it sound relevant to people who probably have no idea how relevant it really IS to at least 10% of the population plus all the people who love them and wonder why they're cold, tired, fat, and crazy bitches with thinning hair and dry pussies. And the clueless, careless doctors who think it's all in our heads and just prescribe anti-depressants without even bothering to test us.
I am mad, hopeful, tired and I have a good, holistic plan (which includes taking as many walks in the middle of the day as possible) to get myself into top form and be less crazy. Again, I say I'd love to have a month-long "vacation", meaning a break from commitments but not a break from work. I'm not actually begging for that to fall out of the sky, I'm just semi-wishfully thinking while being partially thankful I can't have one. Because I don't really WANT one. I WANT to work. I'm just really fucking tired, but at least now I know WHY.
Okay. Maybe I *do* want to take a real vacation whenever I walk past someone who lives on shiny wheels:
Second photo of mountain from the top = Mt. Baker Mountain in last two photos = Mt. Rainier aka The Mountain (all shot yesterday)
We lost power at our house for a couple of seconds today because of the wind; it almost seems freakier when the sun's out and it's blowing than if the skies were dark and ominous. Blue skies + windstorms = the pink goth of weather.
Though we live northwest of/near Seattle, the weather is totally different here with a lot less rain. We're lucky to have big windows facing south so in January and February we can sunbathe naked. Inside, unless you have fur:
I took these pictures in our backyard after going to the store where the power was out. According to the locals I heard talking, part of town was out of electricity because a transformer blew, a tree fell/knocked down lines, AND someone crashed a car into a pole. Our wind is a force to be reckoned with!
Next month we're planning to spend some time shooting closer to my hometown, in the area where (some of) Twin Peaks was filmed. I really wanted to commission someone to sew a waitress costume to mimic the ones they wore at the diner in the series, but I messed up the specs on the auction I created and didn't want to pay for something four months in advance of a time that would be too late for the look/time of year I wanted. Maybe next year. For now we'll try to capture a little of the vibe/local color without being crazily ambitious. Someday I would love to have the resources to get a bunch of our friends and fellow-Peaks-fans together for a couple of weeks to shoot some tribute porn. Someday.
Late last night we fucked while I fondled my new toys: Delia's growing boobs. I dare you to not be jealous of me for getting to play with emerging, swollen boobies while getting fucked by your girlfriend's she-cock. Some people might call it convenient. I call it "barely legal". And myself? I call myself "lucky" because right now she's making us a Christmas meatloaf. Food and fucking -- what more could you ask for on Christmas? Simultaneous orgasms? Well we had those, too.
I love taking pictures of this bird feeder in our backyard at different times of day/year (no, we don't put bird food in it; it's a relic left behind by past owners):
Happy holidays to everybody -- here's to celebrating in as many safe, happy, and (mostly) healthy ways as possible with big loads of hot gravy on top!
These pictures of me in a blonde wig outside in the snow with a blue sky turned out almost exactly how I wanted them to be:
I'll be posting the full gallery of over one hundred pics for our members next week.
Tonight it's my turn to be the photographer shooting a Christmas gallery and video of Delia. We're off to a late start due to the severe winter storm warning we're under here in western Washington; it just started snowing again and is supposed to keep going for the next five days. In our town we're being hit by stuff coming in from the west AND the south, so it might get really windy. Don't be surprised if our voyeur cams go down and you don't hear from us for a time -- it will just mean we lost one or both of our internet connections and/or power.
The streets are already coated with ice so Delia made sure we went to the store to stock up on everything we'll need if we can't get out for a week. Of course we'll still be able to walk, but I got a blister on the bottom of my foot a couple of days ago when we had to go downtown and thought it safer to walk than drive; my Payless snow boots are cheap and don't fit me well so I don't want to have to trudge for miles to lug home heavy groceries.
We're staying home alone for Christmas; I'll miss seeing our nephew, but I think it's better for us and our whole family if we're not on the road. Actually, I'm really missing Delia's family right now; I love spending Christmas at her parent's house. It's the only place I've been in the past six years where I don't feel compelled to work. I plow through books, I masturbate in bed, we come down with colds and flu, and somehow it's just a huge, relaxing vacation (for me, at least -- unfortunately, Delia isn't as aroused by our bedroom being located right next door to her parents as I am).
I've never been a big fan of snow, but now that I work at home it's growing on me since I don't have to drive in it. Living in the Seattle area we don't get a lot of snow so it's always cause for excitement around here. It doesn't usually last long, either, so I'm really happy we had a chance to go out and shoot in it.
The window of opportunity for snowy, seasonal pics is actually still open; it's been snowing most of today. Here's a shot of our dog from one of our spycams a few hours ago:
Anyway, the rest of the photos are up for my members and we've got two outdoor spycams running today; we're going to walk downtown through the snow now to run some errands.
Last night we stayed up way too late, but it was worth it to catch up a little on something we haven't had enough of lately: SEX. Watching/listening to Daniel Lanois (see below) put me into a magic place, and reaching over to feel Delia's semi-hard cock made fucking her totally irresistible. I alternated between stroking her cock and feeling her swollen, growing boobs before I got on her and came two times to her one. The whole thing was super-intense, partly because it's been a couple of weeks but mostly just because it IS.
It's super windy here today with a projected snow storm rolling in; I think we lost power last night so most of our cams went (and stayed) down until we got up. Don't be surprised if it happens some more over the next week. I *hope* it won't interfere with the shows and chat we have scheduled this weekend, but if it does? You'll know weather is the reason.
Enjoy the full moon tonight, if you can. It will probably be clouded over here.
I'm going to make myself keep exercising because it's paying off after a week of being consistent; I feel a lot better already. I did fall off the wagon yesterday and tried to tell myself getting a massage was AS GOOD as getting exercise, but sex and backrubs really aren't all that aerobic so if I want to keep feeling good, I need to do some physical work tonight.
I have galleries to post for members, but honestly I don't like them enough to post them right now so I'll put something else up and we'll shoot something better.
We're celebrating Thanksgiving late today; my sister, nephew and brother-in-law drove to our house last night and Delia's cooking the turkey right now. The same turkey that's been in our freezer for more than a year since we had to cancel dinner last year after my mom broke her wrist and had to get surgery mere days before the feast.
As a teenager I really resented seeing the women stuck in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. It seemed completely unfair to me, the way they slaved away while the men sat on their asses thinking up ways to make the day unpleasant and contentious. It's kind of funny(?) that now I make basically no effort to help Delia prepare meals. And this is actually the SECOND turkey she's cooked and stuffed in the past month since she made one for a big potluck a few weeks ago. Maybe as a kid I thought I was feeling sorry for the women in my family when really I was just feeling sorry for myself because I had no desire to grow up and be stuck in that role, stuck in the kitchen. At the time it didn't occur to me to visualize what I WANTED, which was to grow up and have some OTHER woman (or some man) stuck in MY kitchen, cooking her little ass off while I come in just to rub my hands greedily and condescendingly tell her how GOOD it smells, and when will it be ready, honey?
My mom isn't coming to today's gathering, either, which is a good thing; I have an insanely bad case of PMS and our whole family gets exhausted when all of us are together. Someday I hope we'll all live closer together so it's not such a long-lasting, closely-packed, unable-to-escape-each-other ordeal but right now? That's how it winds up and it's too much of an energy-sucking drag for all of us to really be considered a celebration. The competition for control and attention between four strong personalities (mine, my mom's, my sister's and her two year old son's) is too constant. I've been encouraged to be more realistic in my expectations for family time, and in taking that advice I don't feel disappointed today that we're not all together at once; instead, I'm relieved.
Since our nephew is here a lot of our cams are down or cloaked so that he can run around freely. Also, one of the camsites where we broadcast has been down since yesterday; it's frustrating, but I'm trying not to worry about it today since there's nothing I can do about it and it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway with little Mr. Squishypants in the house.
I, my sister, and Delia stayed up way too late talking so I'm feeling really sleep-deprived right now and am going to try to get in a nap. I have a sick amount of anxiety when my nephew is here, worrying about all the ways he can get hurt, feeling like I need to watch everything he does in our child-unsafe house and around our dog. Even with all that watching, he's gotten hurt and while it is a consolation knowing none of those times have come even close to killing him -- kids HAVE to fall down, split their lips, bash their heads against sharp corners, etc. -- I still have a hard time letting go and it's much worse if I haven't gotten enough sleep.
Here are some webcam grabs I took today followed by a less-attractive (but slightly more entertaining) video we shot a couple months ago when we were camping and getting our weeny roasting sticks ready:
I can't even describe how much joy a couple pots of pansies have given me. We rarely spend money on yard-stuff since we rent, but damn . . . just having a reason to go outside and water a couple bowls of flowers and inspect their tiny, perfect faces makes me so fucking happy. It did suck when we were gone last week and came home to find the deer had eaten half of them in our absence, but since pansies are so cheap it didn't feel like a major loss:
We took most of the day off on Wednesday, AND IT WAS GOOD. We took the dog for a walk on the beach when we got up, then we came home for breakfast: eggs scrambled up with onions and softened apples (that Delia picked from the tree in our yard). It's pretty rare that I cook any of the food we eat together (Delia takes care of all the housewifey things here), so it made me feel good to contribute in that way for once.
We also spent time outside pruning the Camellia, meaning Delia pruned while I stood there and watched, enjoying the rain that started to fall while I picked up the branches. Or maybe that was yesterday, I don't know. I also got a headache on our day off, but since we didn't have anything planned it felt SO GOOD to not worry about what I wasn't going to get done and just nap instead. I'm redoubling my efforts to avoid migraine triggers, for real! I just had a minor lapse Tuesday night when I had some processed meat. Bad, Trixie!
A few photos from my most recent members-only gallery (which I think is totally charming, by the way, and I don't say that about ALL of my pictures):
I was pretty proud of our efforts in getting up early to shoot outside before the light got all freaky. Mostly I'm posting these pics though so you'll have visual reassurance that I'm not having a nervous breakdown or anything. I'm so happy just to have boobs!
Somewhere between this entry and the one before it is the truth.
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.
We're home from our three night beach trek and had a lovely time, even if we didn't get to see the meteor shower because we had almost continuous grey skies.
I'm not complaining about the greyness -- it was super relaxing with the white noise of the ocean paired with the visual fog.
Here's what we did: drove, ate mostly junk food, WALKED AND WALKED AND WALKED (to the point where our poor old dog was even tired out), shot a few sets of nudey pics, shot photos recreationally, "swam" (more like played in the water like kids letting the waves crash into us) and had a blast last night at the campground roasting hot dogs and marshmallows.
Here's what I did not do: sleep well.
All in all it was splendid.
Now? I'm pretty tired, but excited to be blogging in bed with MY NEW LAPTOP! I'm going to have to get Zone Alarm (or some other security software: recs anyone?) before I take it places away from home, but I'm super happy to finally have a machine I can blog and write on that's not a dinosaur or hooked up to cams (though it does have the built-in cam I still need to add/subtract a lot of software and stuff to this machine before I log it in anywhere). Anyway, it's romantic to finally have a laptop that I can use the way other people use theirs. I doubt you'll see me haunting coffee shops on a regular basis, but I like knowing I *could* quickly pack up and do some work or even hold chat sessions elsewhere for a change of pace.
I love the smell of new electronic gadgetry. Mmmmmm . . .
Our stay in the Victorian bed & breakfast (they call it a hotel so you'll know they don't serve breakfast, but for your visualization purposes imagine more of a B&B than a hotel) was productive, but we didn't manage to completely avoid being "caught" doing our sneaky porno shooting. But first, there was an earthquake!
While I was sitting on the floor against an outside wall shooting Delia on the bed, it felt like a truck drove into the house and made us sway back and forth on the second floor a few times. It excited us but we weren't sure whether or not it was an earthquake, mostly because we'd just had a conversation the day before about how often we wake up in the middle of the night and IMAGINE there's an earthquake. It was just too much of a coincidence, having discussed our earthquake paranoia so recently. Plus, it didn't feel like most little earthquakes in Washington which are usually like rumbling underground tummies. Instead it was like a 3 second excerpt of the middle of the big earthquake we had a few years back with swinging, swaying, flexy building movement. I considered going downstairs to find out who else felt it, but we kept shooting instead. Maybe it felt unusual we because we were only three miles from the epicenter. Anyway, I know it's "nothing" compared to what Californians frequently experience, but for us it definitely is something else. Little ones are always a reminder of how vulnerable we are up here in the subduction zone to having a really devastating earthquake, or even just another like last time which was pretty fucking exciting and freaky (it made me positively GIDDY!). We also live in a town with buttloads of fresh tsunami warning signs, so we do have frequent reminders to be scared shitless of earthquakes.
The next morning when housekeeping knocked while we were sleeping I loudly dismissed her, firmly informing her "WE DON'T NEED ANYTHING". Later that afternoon while Delia was at home checking on the dog and I was out at the grocery store picking up snacks, the "innkeeper" must have decided to do some housekeeping himself; I came back to our room only to discover our door wide open and our bed made. The fellow hurried down the hall toward me and noticed the look of consternation on my face, explaining, "I was just emptying your wastebasket; I think everything is all right."
The way he said "I THINK everything is all right" sounded to me like he noticed our light stands, colorful cheap corsetry & lingerie scattered around, the way I'd moved an obnoxious framed snapshot from one dresser to another, and the conspicuously absent "checkout time is at 11 am blah blah blah" printout that had been taped up on the particularly photogenic doors. He was saying, "I needed to investigate your activities and have noticed many things are suspiciously askew, but I guess since you haven't pulled the chandelier out of the ceiling I'll let it slide."
I was pissed.
The only consolation was seeing Delia's cum-streaked black stockings on top of the bed; he'd moved them to make the bed, then put them back on top of the covers where I'd left them. If someone wants to go poking around in our stuff they deserve to encounter some unexpected bodily fluids; normally I would pick up/put away stuff like that if I'd indicated we needed maid service, but I had no reason to think someone would be inserting himself into our room and fondling our underwear.
None of this would be such a big deal if we didn't live in such a small town where word can spread like wildfire amongst the "innkeepers" or if we didn't want to have the option of returning to certain places to shoot again. I don't actually blame people for being concerned that someone's up to no good in their homes/mansions/hotels, it's just not very convenient for us. I would like to be up-front and honest about what we're doing, but it's just not an option; I only know one person who tells vacation rental owners what she's doing when she goes to shoot, and her stuff is more politically correct than what we do. Everyone else we know shoots overtly pornographic stuff, and none of them inform people what they're doing when they rent places or pop into hotels to shoot. People who genuinely aim to shoot "fine art nudes" (or at least exude the pretension of artistry) probably have an easier time of it, in part because it seems quieter and less scandalous AND because people don't assume artists are rich enough to pay extra for locations whereas everyone assumes pornographers are rich because SEX SELLS, not art. I'm not just worried about being blacklisted, I'm worried about people charging us more to shoot in their places.
Apparently there are often regulations, local ordinances, etc. and fine print stipulations in rental agreements forbidding doing commercial shooting without permits and/or permission; I think most of it is written with film in mind, but it's something few people realize, but could become more and more (or less, maybe) of a visible legal issue with so many people making photo and video content that then appears online. I don't know all of the ins and outs about it and would like to think when the "innkeeper" invited us to wander around and take pictures, his words could be taken at face value, but honestly I would prefer not to broach the issue at all. I'm sure everything's fine, but it does worry me a little. On the other hand, I feel very much that HE did something wrong by going into our room after I'd said, rather clearly I thought, we didn't want any housekeeping. I feel that if someone discovers we're moving furniture around or doing slightly kinky things with cameras BECAUSE THEY INTRUDED ON US (and fail to have "do not disturb" signs the way most places called "hotels" do) rather than because we broke something or made a bunch of noise, then they are more in the wrong.
I know some of you are reading this thinking I'm being totally paranoid, but I'm going to bet you either a) live in a city, and/or b) are more resourceful than I and/or have more resources at your disposal so you aren't worried about finding alternatives, and/or c) your job is not the same as mine.
In spite of the intrusion (and maybe because of the earthquake) we had a grand time. We weren't at all tempted to run away home to sleep this time. I *loved* our two nights in a strange bed, even with the walls being paper thin (this should be a hint to you that we didn't shoot any noisy couples action, or even any quiet couples action). It was all very softcore except for a couple of Delia's cumshots, and if I were the innkeeper I'd be happy to have us as patrons because the other guests? They were way louder than we were!
We finally got a new camera! It just arrived on Tuesday so today we shot our first nudey set with it. Here's one of my favorite, happy NON-nudey shots from that:
I'm extremely happy with it and hope to write a whole blog entry singing its praises and showing it off. Here's one I took last night:
I should say that I can't BELIEVE it's been over a week since I made a blog entry here, but I actually CAN believe it. I feel it in my marrow, this neglect. I could whine and cry about how disgusting I've felt and how tired I've been but that kind of melodramatic pathos won't do anybody any good. Instead I'll just say that I've revamped my routine goals and schedules in such a way that I will be more productive and efficient.
Basically instead of cycling through a long weekly routine to-do list, I've shortened my daily and weekly tasks and lengthened the monthly to-do list so I can group repetitive tasks in a lump to get weeks of them done ahead of time rather than trying to switch gears and never getting ahead by focusing on weekly cycles which barely give me a chance to half-assedly finish all my "chores" before the next week starts and I'm back on exactly the same treadmill; I've been depressed and overwhelmed feeling like I'm spinning my wheels so I really want to set work up so that I can get on a roll and STAY there for two to six days on one type of work at a time. Part of this switch began with me scheduling one hyperchat week per month and now I'm following through on that by making ALL of my work into lumpier monthly events.
Speaking of lumpy monthly events, I did get my period/am not pregnant. I just finished up with that and my second Clomid prescription so in a week or so I should ovulate again. This time we are 90% sure we're going to the doctor for an intrauterine insemination instead of the homebrew fucking. Maybe bypassing my cervix will get this party started, but it will probably leave our spycam voyeurs high and dry since Delia will be storing up her spooge for the fertility doctors who will spin it and wash it and prep it for my uterus (a process that causes some sperm to be lost). Sounds pretty counterproductive, doesn't it? Perhaps, but many sperm are lost in the vag, too, never even getting past the cervix especially if one has "hostile cervical mucous" which really sounds like a very Trixie-esque condition. I haven't had my cervical mucous tested or anything, but it would not surprise me one bit if all of this disappointment could be blamed on my bitterly acidic cunt juices. Oh, we've tried tricks designed to improve the quality of my mucous and used products intended to bathe sperm in slippery stuff they can easily swim through, but to no avail so far. We really want to get this motherfucking show on the road. FOR REALS.
Tonight I'm going to try to get these new photos posted for members and maybe get some more exercise, too. My body is like a weird stranger to me these days, all thick and dimpled in both good and bad ways. I did some exercise along with the tv the other day called "slow-robics" and couldn't even make it the entire hour even with commercial breaks. After the midway mark I had to take a big ass break then come back to it for another ten minutes. There were tons of speed-skater-imitating squatting exercises that turned my thighs and buttocks into what felt like big soft balloons of swollen jello. I have only just regained the ability to lower my ass onto the toilet without screeching in agony and clutching at the wall for support on the way down.
I guess this is what they call "thirty-five". On an intellectual level I know precisely how I've gotten to this point and exactly what I need to do to control at least some of the damage, but on another level I just can't believe this is my body. More to the point, I can't believe how different I am from when I was young. Again, on a rational level it all makes total sense and OF COURSE I'm different from my younger self, but it's not just my body that's different; I have changed in many ways and am maybe needing some time to adjust to my new identity and get to know who I am.
All this dim-witted introspection might sound silly, like it should all be easy and come naturally and make total sense, but you make a lot of plans in life and develop a lot of habits based on your perception of your identity. When your values, needs, and abilities shift then you need to change your habits and plans. Being here in my mid-thirties is almost like losing a limb and needing to learn how to do everything with three of them instead of four. My balance is off and I feel justified in simplifying things. It's not that I feel handicapped by my age (except slightly in the body/porn department); on the contrary, I know I'm more skilled and capable. On the other hand, I'm less deluded and more aware of (and complacent about) my weaknesses. I'm more sure of what I want and what I do NOT want which is great, but it does make one's options seem more limited.
I feel like I blew my ambition wad in my twenties, working really long and hard hours for other people. Proving myself to other people, making other people money, doing what other people wanted and tiring my damned self out. Now? I feel like I don't have much of that drive left, in part because I'm happy and content, but also because I'm just motherfucking tired of it. I don't like having to be resourceful to do my job; I want to have all of the tools I need to do my job well and it just exhausts me, mentally, physically and emotionally, having to pull everything together on a shoestring budget to attain mediocrity. It feels like a big waste of my time and I really REALLY want to spend more time with my family and I REALLY want to make better porn. A lot more time with my family AND a lot more porn. I think these are very normal, typical thirty-something feelings and part of me enjoys being in this stage of life. It's also embarrassing, though, because I feel like I should be able to muster up the energy to rectify this lack of resources. Sometimes it's empowering to know you control your own destiny and can CHANGE your situation just by hard work. Other times? It's just really depressing and tiring when you feel like you've DONE your hard work and you're way past due for the payoff. Everything feels like it hinges on how well I can mind-fuck myself into believing that I can, at the very least, double our income which is basically what we need to do and FAST to make continuing what we do justifiable. Of course, getting normal jobs is even less justifiable than continuing what we do full time simply because the only hope we have of paying off our debts is to win the lottery or work hard on our sites (since there's no limit to what we can make on them, unlike real jobs that have, ummm, limitations on wages and salaries and such, and are totally degrading and exhausting and enslaving compared to working for yourself on the internet). We don't play the lottery and I have no desire to quit what I do, so this is what we're going to keep on doing. Of course, my mind is always spinning with ways I can augment the porn site stuff and switch up our plans and find other revenue streams (aka pile even more jobs on myself) but the basic place I'm at is feeling like I've run a really long race and have no idea how far I am from the finish line. My body is falling apart and I'm beyond ready to slow my pace WAY down to falling flat on my face, preferably straight into a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy. But I just keep telling myself to keep trudging along even though I suspect when I round the bend there's just going to be another long-ass stretch of empty road.
It's almost 9 pm now so I'm not going to be able to get both exercise AND an update done. I'm feeling floppy after writing this and want to go to bed, but I'll try to get back in here to edit the photos because I know it will be fun and make me feel better. Then again, so would eating donuts and watching television.
On my birthday (Saint Patrick's Day) we went for a walk in the woods with our dog. We've gotten more rain in the past week than we normally do in our Western Washington "banana belt" location, so the moss and everything seemed a brighter green edging the path.
One of my favorite things about being in the woods with Delia is the way she will point out pretty things, first using their common names and then (if I'm lucky) their Latin names. Was it a flowering quince she pointed out? I can't remember what it was, only that it had pink buds and the water was behind Delia when she said it. I can hear the sound of the comma between the English and the Latin, even if I can't remember the words.
As we wandered off the beaten path, Delia notified me that she found a morel:
For the rest of our walk she kept her eyes peeled for more while I just grinned feeling that fortune had smiled upon us. On me, especially.
Today she fried it up in butter and soy sauce and we shared that one small, delicious mushroom. It was better than a birthday cake. The kiss afterwards was salty and slick with grease.
1. I don't like those blue m&m's. I liked the old seventies colors. Red looked so pretty with the two colors of brown. Blue is ALL WRONG.
2. I believe that space colonization will save humankind -- that ONLY space colonization CAN save us. It's not something I think about often so it's not like I'm revealing some bizarre secret of mine. Or wait, maybe I am. This is something I've believed for a long time, maybe because the space station was such a big deal when I was a kid. Still, it wasn't something I had any detailed exposure to -- it just slid into my belief system.
Why does this nugget of belief appeal to me? I don't know -- probably because science barely-fiction captured my imagination somehow from an early age. I'm not very literate in the sci-fi genre in general, but my dad bought enough graphic sci-fi stuff (a huge Buck Rogers collection in giant-book form which I never read, but leafed through every so often, a couple of captivating books with spaceship blueprints, and a subscription to Omni) that it wiggled into my consciousness as something real. Star Wars was the first movie I remember seeing, and that in a drive-in theater with my dad after a fight with my mom so it made a big impression on me. I didn't study or immerse myself in science, science fiction, or technology but I saw and read enough that was so beautiful, believable, provocative and richly detailed that it planted seeds in my brain.
Maybe that's why I didn't like Star Trek: not very beautiful, believable, or richly detailed. My first exposure to Star Trek was the original series during reruns and I was too little to understand its provocative content, only to recognize its visual inferiority to Star Wars and the other pictures I saw. The only thing I liked about the original series were the short dresses on the hot chicks. Of course, in the past couple of years I've become a Next Gen fan but it didn't contribute to the formation of my belief system, only reinforced it.
I think space colonization is part of my faith; I have faith that a few smart, persistent, creative people will save us and we will endure thanks to scientists and technology. When I say "we" I don't mean "I" since I believe this will happen after I'm dead and gone, but not by much. The idea of space colonization comforts me even though it's completely irrelevant to my life and even though it will be fraught with tragedies and scary things.
I suppose I like knowing that the struggle will go on and that there are new frontiers to explore. Or maybe it comforts me to imagine that people in general won't become too much more advanced than I had a chance to be any time soon. I can't believe Firefly only lasted one motherfucking season because that show perfectly captured what I think a lot of us imagine as the not-so-distant future of humankind.
Honestly, I don't spend a lot of time specifically thinking about space colonization as a cornerstone of my belief system. I have, however, spent quite a bit of time over the past few years reflecting on science fiction in general as the best contemporary vehicle for exploring spiritual, moral, and ethical issues. Science fiction is one of the most authentic ways I feel like I can "get religion". It's not fixed or as dogmatic as science itself so there is still room for faith (and when I say "faith" I mean faith in something -- ANYTHING -- wiggly and uncertain, not faith in any of the gods of religions we're so familiar with today), and it's not completely insane or irrational (again, like so many of the religions we're familiar with today). There's room for soaring idealism in science fiction, and for bitter cynical social commentary. I love it.
Anyway, even though I don't give daily deep thought to space colonization, I guess I do feel pretty anxious about this planet and sad about what we're doing to it. The amount of destruction I've seen in my short life, and the carelessness people have towards the "environment" leads me to believe (another part of my faith) that we aren't going to be able to live here naturally much longer without lots of artificial intervention. Much of what is most beautiful will be utterly fucking destroyed -- any of it that's saved will be via small-scale Jurassic Park type measures.
I didn't grow up in a city. Many days I actually got to wade in creeks, see big trees, smell clean air, enjoy darkness at night, have complete privacy/solitude . . . things like that. I've spent all of my thirty three years loving ferns and moss and the smell of rotting wood.
I didn't grow up in a city, but I grew up close enough to the city of Seattle to see major MAJOR changes in western Washington every single year for the past thirty-three. It's nothing against cities, because I love those too, but we are mowing good things down and paving over it so fast and furiously and on such grand scale that you have to have your head stuffed straight up your cornucopian ass to not recognize that we're shitting all over the planet; it cannot sustain these levels of "growth" and resource-rape. I wasn't raised to be an "environmentalist"; my grandpa was a logger and most people I knew were pretty conservative and hostile towards "tree-huggers". Really, my sentiments are fueled only by the gift of sight -- you have to be fucking blind to not see the destruction and life out of balance.
So. I guess I comfort myself with the fact that science will create new wonders, preserve and transplant some old ones, and life will go on. It really breaks my heart, though, imagining the world introduced to my nephew (or my own children if I ever have any) and trying to show them as many things as possible before they're bulldozed down. If my own lifetime has been marred by observable decimation of natural resources and beauty I can only imagine how depressingly ugly and destructive the world will become over the next three generations. And hey, it's not all about "nature" -- privacy and solitude are becoming relics of the past (or at least luxuries only the very richest of the rich can afford). If I ever have grandchildren I'm pretty certain their notion of these concepts (privacy and solitude) will be reduced to tiny fragments of what they should be.
It makes me fucking shudder, but I thank my lucky fucking stars to be alive in this time and place rather than somewhere else, or sometime long ago, or sometime in the near future. That brings me back to faith; who or what should I "thank"? Science fiction hasn't answered that question for me yet so sometimes I fall back on the old-fashioned stuff because really, I do need to give thanks even if it's primitive, superstitious and nonsensical.