I'm not good at remembering dates or making a big deal out of birthdays, anniversaries, etc. but here are a few of the ones I feel excited about:

DeliaCD.com - Five Years
February marked the fifth anniversary of Delia's website opening up for business. I can still remember the day when she got all serious and wanted to have a "talk". I was so afraid she was going to say she wanted to quit doing all of the porn stuff, so I was overjoyed to hear the complete opposite: that she wanted to quit her straight job and JUST do the porn stuff. Now her site is the most popular one we have and I'm semi-officially one of those husband-pimp-webmasters I used to talk smack about years ago.

The Wandering WebWhore (This Blog) - Eight Years
Yup -- tomorrow. At this moment I don't particularly want to read those early posts and "see how far I've come"; some of those posts make me really sick of myself, but I think the dudes liked it better then.

I should make an anniversary for how many years it's been since this blog "design"/layout/links/etc. has been out of date. {{{{shudder}}}}

Delia and I - Seven Years
Just over seven years ago I met my sissy houseboy aka twat aka Tucker aka Delia. By September of 2002 we were moving in together.

After sitting here for five minutes I can only say that any words I could plaster up on the internet about our life together -- what it's been, what it is, and what it's becoming -- would trivialize what she and our relationship mean to me.

It's hard for me to explain how I can be so public about something and so fanatically private about it at the same time. People can spy on us together at home, hear us telling each other we love each other, watch videos of us fucking, and read our journals and intimate details of our relationship but the big rock solid truths of what connects us to each other aren't things I can (or want to) put into words for other people or even for ourselves.

That's when the years stacking up (and the way I want them to KEEP stacking up) bear more witness than I can with my own blah-blah-blah.

Seven years and counting . . .

Labels: accomplishments, aging, family, relationships, thanksgiving

posted by Trixie at 3/01/2009 05:48:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
Everyone's been talking about Bettie Page's recent death. I felt almost guiltily unphased by it, especially considering that I cried when I heard Bernie Mac died.

Tonight I burst into tears upon reading that Majel Barrett (Gene Roddenberry's wife) passed away.



I'm a latecomer to Star Trek; even though the original series did make an impression on me as a little kid, it was of alien go-go boot sexiness and little else. It was only after Delia and I watched Trekkies that I got drawn in and we watched all of Next Generation from beginning to end. Gene and Majel Roddenberry's work and values have come to mean a lot to me; I'm thankful and inspired by the positive and progressive ways Star Trek depicts gender, sexuality, aging and ethics.

Whenever I see Majel on tv, a burst of love, appreciation and adoration swells up inside of me and I SCREAM it to her.



Her characters are inspirations to me and the work she and Gene Roddenberry did together and legacy they've left behind are models of working relationships, vision, humanitarianism and hope that make me feel richer, happier, and better about myself and other people.

We'll miss you, Majel.

Labels: celebrity, death, emotions, inspiration, mortality, relationships, spiritual issues, thanksgiving, values

posted by Trixie at 12/18/2008 06:54:00 PM - 3 comments - links to this post

 
Let me toss some tgirl-on-tgirl porn at you before I get all personal and diary-ish(click for free pics & sample vid):



This is my favorite photo in the samples and in general that whole shoot was really hot to watch, plus I love that the resulting porn is both explicit and very sensual. I need to work on my skills as a photographer shooting people other than Delia, though. With Mandy and AmberLily I didn't do a good job of stopping them and asking them to hold "poses", so as a result there were lots of blurry and awkward shots -- good ones, too, but could've been better. We're still getting used to our new camera which is FAST, but since we don't shoot with a flash or a lot of light we still have to MODEL semi-slowly even though it's tempting when you hear the shutter flying along to dance fluidly along.

*****

Life is good -- there are lots of things going on with me which are mostly connected with making a concerted effort to have LESS things going on and focus on a few high priority things. Right now my personal priorities are:

-exercising consistently (today will be five days in a row)
-eating less sugar and starches
-going to twelve step meetings & getting healthier emotionally and spiritually
-cutting back on a few things to make room for a) making money more efficiently and b) doing more things that I love

The past couple of years my body has become more and more of a challenge for me to feel good about, mostly because I never got into the habit of taking care of it except for getting enough sleep. With the added pressure (and wake-up-calls) of trying to get pregnant but not being able to, it's gotten to the point where I feel really shitty with a litany of symptoms and complaints and hypochondriac fantasies. Long story short, I need to put myself and my health first before everything (and everybody) else.

A lot of times I sacrifice my own needs and desires to work which really is stupid because I can't *do* this kind of work very well when my body feels like shit and I don't provide myself with pleasure on all levels. I can barely stand to look at myself which is, ummm, pretty counterproductive for shooting porn (and editing/posting/selling it myself where I have to look at myself and love myself to do a good job). It's not that everything looks shitty, but seriously -- it's not only difficult for me to bend over to tie my shoes these days, it's PHYSICALLY PAINFUL. My guts fucking hurt.

Before people rush to simple judgments like, "duh! That's what happens when you sit on your ass all day", etc. let me offer a little perspective and extend some leniency to myself; there are definitely some hormonal problems contributing to my issues (all of the thyroid / infertility / depression / migraine / too-much-testosterone stuff and more all connected in a which-came-first/chicken-egg circle of insanity) plus the stuff we've been going through with alcoholism that no one has really been aware of or how it's been effecting us; *I* haven't even been aware of how much of my energy was going into trying to cope with it.

One of the unexpected bonuses of Delia getting sober is that I got to enter recovery too. Only I totally didn't anticipate how hard it would be or that I would totally fucking freak out (which I did, surprisingly, really fall-the-fuck apart the first month and couldn't really understand why when I thought I would just feel relieved and everything would be bliss and perfection). Now that Delia is sober and I'm not constantly thinking about her and trying to control her drinking, I'm left with the way bigger, scarier challenge and problem of mySELF and my own fucked-upedness. Patterns of behavior and sickness that I had before Delia and I ever even met.

I feel really optimistic, excited and fortunate right now, but I also feel like I need a lot of space and time and patience to get healthy in more ways than one. It takes more than a week or a month or three months or a year to feel relief, to figure out what to change (and what IS changing whether you want it to or not), to adapt, and to grow into new ways of doing things. I'm kind of tired and have a lot of stuff to process and let go of so just mending my body, our relationship and going to meetings right now is enough to keep me very occupied. I'd say that I'm sorry I don't have more left over to spread around and to keep doing all the things I was trying to do, but I'm not sorry. I'm happy to be focused on what's important.

Note: I'm leaving comments open for people who want to remark on the Delia & Mandy shoot or those who have their own personal sharing/relating on the subjects I talked about, but I usually do not feel helped by comments containing unsolicited advice, analysis of me/us/our lives and/or criticism even when I know they're well-intentioned.

Labels: body image, depression, drugs, health, my trans partner, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, priorities, relationships, spiritual issues, therapy, TURN ONS, VIDEO, webwhore insights, work

posted by Trixie at 12/08/2008 05:24:00 PM - 4 comments - links to this post

 
I went to the store for a colon cleanse kit (details to come in another entry) and some other goodies while Delia was at her meeting. The worker bees were doing their nightly cleanup routine where they're totally in your way except for when you want to check out, and then they ignore you (and you know your irritation with them is totally reciprocated because you're in THEIR way, too). I walked out happy with my purchases, but making my foul "I hate people!" frowny-face.

In the empty parking lot as I loaded my bag into our van I happened to glance out into the dark street just in time to see a car swishing by. It looked familiar . . . was it? YES! It was my girlfriend on her way home and she SAW me! You have no idea how big my grin was by the time Delia turned on her blinker and pulled in, rolling down her window just to give me a kiss.

I know it's totally dorky and makes no sense that it would make me so happy to see her like that when we're together 97% of the time. I can't explain it, but it felt so good. Less than five minutes later we were both home together again, kissing in the driveway and talking about our colons.

I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.

Labels: emotions, health, my trans partner, relationships, shopping, thanksgiving

posted by Trixie at 11/29/2008 08:49:00 PM - 2 comments - links to this post

 
This is a long-ass entry. I already cut out a lot and saved it for future entries, but I was still left with all of this, so be forewarned; it's not a quick read:

When we started letting friends know that Delia identifies as a woman and decided to transition from presenting as a man to living as a woman, one of the first questions was from a friend who sent this to me:

So now the million $ question:
Do you think of yourself as a lesbian?

The short answer? No. I do not think of myself as a lesbian. I never have and I never will.

Sorry to disappoint folks who were looking for a juicy DELIA: MY TRANSSEXUAL GIRLFRIEND AND HOW OUR LIVES ARE NOW A CRAZY LESBIAN FUCK-PARTY! entry, but her transition doesn't change my sexual orientation, nor does it change hers. I didn't grow up feeling "different" (not because of my sexual preferences, anyway; I felt different in other ways, but those are different subjects). I have always been hot for men, starting with Elvis, little boys in the neighborhood, and hot ethnic dudes from seventies television like Erik Estrada on Chips (wheeee tight black gloves!), Chico (see Chico and the Man), and Epstein on Welcome Back Kotter. Real LESBIANS do not grow up feeling "hot for dudes". Seriously, just looking at those images makes me hot in a special way reserved for triggers set early in girlhood. Of course, I'm rather partial to men's mouths when they look suspiciously like hot pussy: full, juicy, blood-infused lips decorated with hair (see also, Isaac on Love Boat: that kind of mustache always gives me a big fucking clit boner). And I can't deny that I had a very special, tingly interest in Jo/Nancy McKeon on Facts of Life. And Blair. And titties. And naked girls in magazines. Yes, the "Jo" archetype has been in many of my lesbo masturbation fantasies, only the setting is less boarding school and more prison.

So what IS my sexual preference? For most of my adult life I've been in the "it's all good" category; I identify myself as omnisexual (aka pansexual). I'm what most people call "bisexual", but have never liked that label: first, because I objected to wearing a special designation that seems to say I'm "different" from the majority of people (when I emphatically believe MOST people are just plain SEXUAL), and later because it assumes we only have two options to choose from. In a pinch, though, I will call myself bisexual because it's the most efficient, accurate way for me to identify my sexuality to lots of people who aren't familiar with all of these nuances and super-cool labels. Whenever time allows and it's possible (during conversations or chat sessions rather than check-marking boxes on forms that never have enough options) I do try to remind people there are alternatives to the limited, oversimplified notions of sexuality and gender most of us were raised to accept.

The first time my sexual preference was called into question was in elementary school in the seventies. My friend, Irene, and I had been playing our special game of "Elvis" with each other since we were four or five and continued through fifth or sixth grade. One night at her house after we got done humping each other, she was overcome with guilt and teared up, confronting me with the weirdest question I'd ever heard in my life:

"Trixie . . . you know we're gay, don't you?"

Ummmmm . . . actually, no. No I did not know that. And I told her so.

Let me clarify; I didn't tell her that I wasn't aware we were gay, as in "wow, Irene! So *that's* what we are! Because I've really been wondering; thanks for clearing that up!". I told her we WERE NOT gay. Even with my very limited idea of what "gay" meant, I knew I wasn't. I knew what we were doing was normal even though I knew it wasn't something we were supposed to tell everybody about. I looked forward to doing it, it was fun, and hey, we were playing Elvis, right? Elvis was a guy that all women wanted to do it with, so how could that be gay?

She reminded me that the big girls at school had called us gay when they saw us holding hands with each other in the hallway and I tried to reassure her that they were just mean. There's nothing WRONG with friends holding hands! I knew intuitively that we were basically just little girls (fourth grade, I think) who loved each other in a way that couldn't possibly be that weird. Again, I wouldn't have wanted the big girls with the feathered hair to SEE us humping each other, but that was none of their business. Their world wasn't my world -- those girls were people to be avoided or stared at because they were pretty but they were in no position to know who we were or call us grown-up names. Also, they were stupid -- the kinds of girls who would never win a spelling bee (they're actually dead now and the little know-it-all in me attributes their early deaths to their own stupidity, but it was really much sadder than being dumb and I didn't know them well enough to gauge that anyway; one of them actually wound up with her severed head stuck up high in a tree, but I digress).

In fact, Irene was pretty stupid too. I think I believed that if it had never occurred to me to worry about this "gay" thing myself, it couldn't possibly be something to concern ourselves with. I was the smart one who tried to spend all of her recesses in the library reading dirty books, so it felt natural to conclude that Irene was just wrong and had a stupid thought in her head. I'd already seen her make a million stupid tear-stained mistakes in our short lives, like the time she wanted to steal candy in the drugstore WHILE WE WERE WITH HER MOM after the guy at the dry goods store failed to bestow his customary free suckers on us. She tried to convince me to steal, then as soon as we were out the door she broke down crying and confessed to her mom. Whaaaaaaaaat a dumb ass! Seriously, I couldn't believe the way she operated sometimes.

I'm only now considering the possibility that maybe I was wrong. Not about my own regular brand of opportunistic sexuality, but about hers. After all, SHE always insisted on being Elvis while I was always in the Ann-Margret role ("woman" astride, though). I never really challenged her too much on that because the action itself along with the thought of Elvis was fulfilling enough for me. I guess I just thought she LOOKED a lot like Elvis (not in a butch way, she just has the same exact mouth as him) so it made sense at the time. As an adult I *have* wondered where she got some of her ideas; we were about five when she told me that "Elvis always pees on his girlfriends." which now does seem like an advanced concept for one so young; one secret (of perhaps many) Irene DID manage to keep from her mom was how the Bugs Bunny beach towel got completely soaked with piss.

I wonder if Irene knew she was gay all along and I totally dismissed what she might have realized from the beginning. She went on to do all the things straight girls did in rural high schools in the late eighties: drinking, fucking and frosting her hair. Now she's married with kids. I even went to her wedding chock full of those sick Bible verses about the husband submitting to God and the wife submitting to her husband, followed by a reception full of their wasted relatives raging about that dirty fucking Bill Clinton and how he should be impeached . . . or shot! I still love Irene and hope to Christ she's NOT gay and stuck in a straight marriage with me being the only pussy she ever got. That would be tragic. I'm pretty sure I called it right back in elementary school, though, and that she just let what those mean girls said bother her. Sex play with same-sex childhood friends, even if it continues into your teens, is not a good predictor of sexual preference just like GENDER is not a good predictor of sexual preference.

I know I didn't have enough information to really understand what Irene was worried about back then; we grew up with no internet, no same-sex kissing on tv, no real discussion of any of those things. I'd never been exposed to people being called names like "faggot", but of course I realized and accepted that grown-ups "did it" in male/female pairs even if I had no awareness of a group of grown-up people who did it (and were discriminated against for doing it) the same way Irene and I did. I don't know if I'd ever heard my parents talk about gay people and if we knew any, I wasn't aware of it. I totally thought Billy Crystal was cute/sexy on "Soap" and didn't understand ANYTHING about the show other than that I liked watching him. I didn't know he was playing one of the first openly gay characters on television - I had no conscious understanding of that.

In kindergarten there was one kid who was clearly DIFFERENT, but I just thought he was obnoxious and then he moved to another school so I didn't find out until many years later that he was gay; The memory of how he stood out is still so vivid to me, his shiny orange hair contrasted with his green turtleneck, his flair for the dramatic, his isolation . . . he was SO gay from the very beginning. As a teenager I remember when Donahue had some lesbians on his show and they explained that when most girls played with their Barbie dolls, Barbie and Ken wound up getting it on, but they were different because when THEY played Barbies, it was Skipper and Barbie who always wound up pressed against each other. Even with all the humping Irene and I did on each other, it never dawned on me to use Skipper like that when there was a KEN doll around.

It's things like that -- people being obviously queer and having to deal with identifying and coping with that difference their entire childhood -- that make me adamantly opposed to ever calling myself a lesbian. Spending the rest of my life with someone who identifies as a woman -- who I fell in love with because she was NOT exactly a man -- will not make me a lesbian, and it's not because she's trans; I would say the same thing if she were born with a pussy. I will not call myself a lesbian because, aside from not being one, "lesbian" is a political word representing a minority with a set of experiences that I never had -- never could have -- because I have always felt myself part of the majority when it comes to the genders of people I like to have sex with.

Having said that, when I was in college I *did* come out to my friends and family as bisexual. I know, it sounds like no big thing today but things have changed a lot in the past fifteen years, you know? It wasn't super hard or anything, but it was important enough that I thought the people closest to me should know that I might bring a chick home someday. I'd been aware since I was seventeen that women turned me on even when they weren't pretending to be Elvis (did I already tell you about this orgasmic epiphany I had when I went to Girls' State? I feel like I did, but if so, I can't find where I posted it), but it took me awhile longer to even imagine having a "girlfriend". Of course, everyone in college thought I was a lesbian anyway. Everyone EXCEPT for the handful of lesbians, so let's just say college was one big dry spell for me.

Even though I consider myself omnisexual or pansexual, I can't say that I'm AS sexually attracted to women as to men, and up until recently I had almost no concept of the spectrum of transgender beyond cross-dressers or a remote acknowledgment of "bizarre medical cases" totally far removed from my reality so my fantasy life hasn't included trans people (except crossdressers). Transgender is something I've been ignorant and unaware of most of my life, so I definitely can't say that I'm equally attracted to trans people as to bio men who present as men (most of the time, anyway). I did really love watching Bosom Buddies, of course, and found the guys way hotter when they were dressed up than when they were just boring dudes, but I think I always wanted them to ONLY be wearing the glossy lipstick and some girl clothes WITHOUT the wigs and the earrings. And for the both of them to be fucking Donna Dixon while they were in half-drag.

So yeah . . . my preference is more on the straight side of the continuum; I have a primal response to Elvis, Ponch, Chico, and Epstein that's more intensely sexual than the one I have to Jo, Ginger (Gilligan's Island) and Salma Hayak. Lately most of the time when I fantasize about fucking someone new, it's guys or FTM people. That's a shift from before Delia and I got together when I spent more time fantasizing about women than I do now. Why do I think more about hooking up with men or transmen these days? PROBABLY BECAUSE I'VE BEEN FUCKING A TRANSWOMAN FOR SIX YEARS. And back when I spent time longing for women, I was mostly fucking guys.

Even though I'm not a lesbian, I don't think of myself as straight, either. In fact, my feathers were ruffled recently at a GLBT meeting when someone referred to Delia and I as a straight couple. Yes, I have grown up enjoying and feeling entitled to the privileges straight people have in our society, but we are not a straight couple. I'm not straight, she's not straight, our relationship is not straight, and our jobs are not straight. We are not a straight couple. I don't want to be called a lesbian couple (I was totally confused when I heard a transwoman referring to her work with her female partner as "lesbian porn") but not being lesbian doesn't automatically make us straight.

Still, it was pretty wacky last year when we went to a GLBT event right after Delia decided to transition and I felt like an intruder, not because anyone treated me like one, but because I kind of AM an intruder. I know that the "B" in GLBT stands for me and I know that I just said I'm not straight, but the room was small and I felt like I was taking up space someone else might have NEEDED and DESERVED more than I did. As a woman, I feel really strongly that people in minority groups have protected spaces with good energy from people who GET what it's like to be where they're at and where they've been. Like I said before, I didn't grow up feeling "different" (I don't FEEL like bisexuality is a minor preference, even though I know that the political reality is that it's not accepted when it's anything more than two girls dabbling but running straight home to the cock after they "experiment" and "get it out of their systems") so it was weird to be in that room and for the first time automatically qualify on what felt like a technicality -- because my partner's trans. At the time I wasn't sure I had anything to offer or anything I could rightfully gain from throwing myself into the GLBT mix.

Or maybe it was just a wake-up call, that I don't have an excuse to avoid standing in the middle of a group of people that's openly hated, persecuted, and targeted for special kinds of violence reserved especially for special kinds of people. I know what that feels like as a woman, a pornographer, a nerd, and a sex worker, but I exempted myself from feeling it about my sexual preference, or, more accurately my LACK of a strong preference. I could advocate and empathize -- and stand safely out of harm's way. Not anymore.

It gets tiring, too, standing in another group where I feel like a liar because my profile is different and has a bunch of things in it that I know many people would reject if only they know. Like when I go to church and feel like a liar because I don't believe in their church God on an intellectual level the way almost everyone else does who likes going to church. Or when I identify myself as a feminist to women who I *know* plot ways to get rid of the scourge of pornography. When the GLBT group of people sees me out and about with someone who sometimes looks like a boy and uses a boy name, I worry that they'll think I'm a liar even though I never SAID I was a lesbian. I still cringe imagining those people and people at church and feminists all turning to look at me, aghast when they realize how I betrayed them just by walking in their midst, pretending to be one of them. A man-fucker, an atheist with a weakness for ritual and the mystical, an exploiter of women and a user of cunt, a democrat who wants to drown herself in money.

It seems like such a simple question, "are you a lesbian". But like everything else that's attached to someone or something I love, I feel like I need to explain how much more complex it is than yes or no. That if I don't explain, I'll be guilty of some deception.

*****

Just for fun, I'm imagining being offered the chance to pick someone new to be intimate with every week for a year out of everyone in the world. When I think of it that way, men and women would probably come out pretty even with some transgender competition thrown into the mix. I don't know if that means I don't really lean as far towards the straight side as I thought, or if that's just a typical buffet mentality speaking where you pile a lot of different things on your plate that you might not have ordered if you could only pick three or four of them. I'm a sucker for a buffet, though. A good (or even a mediocre) buffet is my idea of heaven. Damn, I'm hungry.

Labels: gender issues, memories, my trans partner, politics, relationships, sexuality

posted by Trixie at 11/21/2008 08:04:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
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!

Labels: food, health, my trans partner, nature, Pacific Northwest, rain, relationships, things I treasure

posted by Trixie at 9/26/2008 04:37:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
After our trip to my psychiatrist, we drove a little more to spend the night with our friend, Ron Carlo. We had an idea for a new porn site to pitch to him and wound up staying awake until 4:30 in the morning excitedly talking about it and brainstorming. Here's the domain and a little of the concept:

IMakePorno.com

I know, you're thinking I'm crazy, always coming up with ideas that I don't have time to develop, but that's the beauty of this one; we aren't doing it alone. Delia and I can do a lot (we DO do a lot) as a couple, but adding just one more awesome person to the mix expands the possibilities exponentially.

While this is a business venture, I'm more excited about it for personal and creative reasons. It's an excuse to spend more time with Ron (and his family when we're not actually shooting) and it really is true that so much more can be accomplished by a team than by individuals. The difference between two people and three is GIGANTIC, especially when that third person has tools, skills, talents, and experience that we don't have. Ron knows what it takes to produce and market video and music on a variety of different budgets and timelines and his experience is super-varied. He is very familiar with our sites. We are familiar with each other's tastes and turn-ons. Over the past three years or so of working with him on projects like this one and True Necromance, we know each other's strengths and weaknesses, we get along really well, we are comfortable being honest with each other, our personalities balance each other out, we have a lot of important things in common with him and hanging out with him always uncorks a deluge of creativity. I LOVE THAT! He is resourceful, funny, optimistic, encouraging, smart, well-rounded, and he treats people with dignity and respect.

The rest of his family shares those qualities which is important since spending a lot of time with him also means visiting with his family (though not shooting porn with them) since we don't have an office or studio (and because we like them). My family knows about and is supportive of my work and I know that makes a huge difference in how I *feel* about being a webwhore; it makes me really happy to work with people who are similarly blessed with supportive and creative family members. I know it sounds hokey, but the "energy" is just better when people aren't keeping secrets from their loved ones and can talk about work with them. The second time we worked with Ron it was at his house where his wife is the one who picked out and sewed my costume and dressed me. Everywhere in the house was evidence of the things they value: art, activism, education, music, etc. They are people we care about which adds an extra incentive to this project and our desire for it to succeed.

Somehow this post is sounding like a letter of recommendation which isn't what I intended, it's just me counting our many blessings and sharing PART of why we are so excited about this project. We've been dying to branch out, shoot other people and do more creative things with our porn -- things that we can continue to do as we get older that showcase more of our personalities and assets than the physical ones. We are so lucky Ron is excited and willing to take a risk on this project with us; the concept is something completely unique to him and an exaggeration of dynamics that could really only exist between the three of us. We would not and could not put this together alone or with anyone besides Ron. We can't wait to see what emerges in two months, six months, a year from now and so on.

*****

In the meantime, Delia and I are working hard to get ahead on updates for TastyTrixie.com and DeliaCD.com so that our current members don't suffer while we're shooting, building and launching imakeporno.com (again, it will be part of our network so membership to one of our sites includes access to all: our current members will automatically get access to the new site if they are still active when it opens). I'm hoping to launch before Thanksgiving, but Ron is aiming for SOONER!

Labels: announcements, family, friends, PORNOGRAPHY, relationships, values, webwhore insights, work

posted by Trixie at 9/20/2008 02:02:00 PM - 2 comments - links to this post

 
Here's a great post from Mia:

WHY I DID PORN, AND WHY I'M GLAD I DON'T ANYMORE

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.

Labels: advide to porn hopefuls, beauty standards, gender issues, links, panties, relationships, sex work, web culture, webwhore insights

posted by Trixie at 8/26/2008 10:56:00 AM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
We had a great visit with Delia's family. My sister and brother-in-law loaned us Mr. Squishypants (their two year-old son/our nephew) which makes socializing so much easier; he's beautiful, charming and a joy to be around. We had dinner together then went to a big park in Seattle and played until it got dark and we could see the full moon between the trees.

At that point Delia's uncle, a slightly grizzled, mildly-boozy-from-dinner Iowa farmer, shook Mr. Squish's hand and solemnly looked him in they eye, saying he's a wonderful boy and hoped he'd see him again soon. Mr. Squishypants returned a firm chubby-fingered grip and nodded his own head in slow, somber agreement, his big blue eyes level as he said, "yeah". He says "yeah" a lot these days. He used to say "dick" or "dickle" when he meant "yes", but recently he replaced "dickle" with the standard "yeah". Anyway, it was moving seeing an expression on his little face that conveyed something like, "we served in the war together, buddy, and saw things we'll never speak of when we get home to our families, but I will never forget you. I'm glad I saved your life once, and you mine." It was like unexpectedly witnessing a secret handshake between two people you never would have guessed had met somewhere before or had a common bond.

It just fucking amazes me how kids learn to communicate, not just with words, but by mimicking our nonverbal language. Sometimes by removing the knowledge of the meaning behind the language a kind of universal human truth is spoken. Mr. Squishypants and Delia's uncle shared a solemn moment full of mutual respect and human connection that transcended what was spoken and understood. They made a connection and I witnessed it (because I was holding him in my arms at the time so they were face to face), the way his angelic little face dipped as he bowed his head slightly to say, "yeah" and he blinked his eyes for only a moment, the rest of the time maintaining eye contact -- it was so full of intuitive wisdom. On one hand it makes you think about how little substance there is to our interactions, that it's all a meaningless charade we teach each other and find compelling when someone does a good job of acting it out. On the other hand it makes you wonder how much meaning is created in a big and powerful way by the emotional response we have to witnessing and performing these interactions. Like when we smile out of obligation even when we don't mean it and somehow we feel better inside for doing it. Yes, we're machines whose behavior can be shaped, but why dwell on our mundane construction when our experiences FEEL so profound? I can intellectualize it and scoff at it as simpleminded copycatting barely more advanced than tricks you can teach a dog, but watching my nephew shake hands or raise a glass to his fellows and say, "cheers!" or high five people or DANCE is like cuddling with divinity, whether such a thing exists or not.

And have you ever noticed how much two year old bodies resemble monkeys? The way their legs and toes move. The way they bend at the waist. How can you avoid trusting, even if just for a moment, in both evolution and God when you see that? A little monkey with my grandma's face, my sister's face, his dad's face, even my face. Layers of the gift of immortality, or at least its illusion.

*****

If I'm not pregnant, my period will probably start today. Also, here's another post over on Fertile(?)Trixie if you'd like to read about my paranoia regarding orgasms and implantation.

Labels: family, full moon, immortality, relationships, spiritual issues, trying to conceive

posted by Trixie at 7/18/2008 12:15:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
We're heading out to Seattle in a bit to visit my family AND to hook up with some of Delia's family: a couple of cousins her age and her aunt and uncle visiting from the Midwest. It's going to be awkward: no one in her family is aware yet that she doesn't identify as male and is transitioning. She's going to be in drab, pretending to be a boy.

Awkward.

I would be more than happy to skip it except that I *really* love this particular aunt of hers (I actually really like her whole family; I haven't met these cousins yet, but I would honestly hang out with this aunt just for fun because I feel comfortable with her).

We're also boarding our dog which is something we've not done the whole time we've been together. For awhile we had an excellent dog/housesitter but she moved to California and we've not found anyone we trust since. We just had to find someplace for her to stay on this overnighter because it's summer and we can't leave her in the car nor can we always foist her on my sister and brother-in-law with their own menagerie including two-year-old more than enough for their small house. Anyway, I hope the "pet resort" is fun for her and not stressful; we're paying extra for her to have a half-hour of supervised playtime with other dogs which could be a good thing or a bad thing. She deserves some fun, though.

Time to get a move on . . . Delia has donned baseball cap, camo pants, and a Harley t-shirt to disguise her gender identity. It's kind of funny. KIND of.

Labels: dog, family, gender issues, husky, my trans partner, relationships

posted by Trixie at 7/15/2008 12:07:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
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.

And there were brownies.

We are lucky to have such good friends.

*****

HERE is the latest on our babymaking project: One Down, One to Go.

*****

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.

Labels: beauty standards, celebrity, friends, music, pop culture, relationships, spycams, television

posted by Trixie at 6/11/2008 08:53:00 PM - 2 comments - links to this post

 
Just in case you didn't believe that my weight gain is a real thing with an impact on my health, here's a photo of my face last month telling the tale:



I do not even look like myself in that picture. I actually think I look cute in it, but like someone else. Oh yeah, I *recognize* that it *is* me, but she's like an alter ego of some sort, like I was transformed overnight (which of course is ridiculous since it's taken me awhile to get there) or am experiencing a Freaky Friday scenario where I'm magically switching places with my chubby twin sister.

That is the biggest and SOFTEST I've been in my entire life and the second time I've weighed that much (around 130, 132 pounds). I am back to 125 and those five pounds make an enormous difference in the number of chins I have (and if I lost only ten pounds now I'd be at a very good place). At the time of that photo my period was severely overdue, not because of pregnancy but because I didn't ovulate which I'm certain is because of how overweight I was. I know 130 pounds doesn't sound enormous considering how much fatter people are capable of getting, but for my frame that is just really WAY too much. With my hormones totally out of wack and the stress and pressure of our plans to get pregnant being delayed and feeling out of control, all I wanted to do was eat. Carbs. Lots of them. It's a vicious circle.

Once my period finally started last month I stopped having my usual two teaspoons of sugar in my morning tea, stopped eating candy (except some dark chocolate here and there), and have been exercising more. I feel better, but still have a major energy dive in the afternoon/early evening and have been napping almost every day; it's only 30-60 minutes, but I feel enormously guilty about it for some reason. I don't know if I'm just stressed out, tired from exercising, fat and lazy, or have some internal voice ordering me to focus on a very few things. It is (and has been for the past nine months or so) very difficult for me to focus on anything besides our conception attempts. It sounds stupid, since if I were really focusing I should have been exercising more and eating better, but my main priority has been to try not to stress out my mind or body. All I have wanted to do was try to be patient, calm, and relaxed and honestly? Accomplishing that takes all of my energy, I think. And lots of food and lazing around.

It should come as no surprise that I have not felt great about shooting photos and videos of myself. Part of it is self-consciousness about my weight, but another part might also be me feeling a need to keep some of me to myself. Trying and failing to get pregnant over and over makes me feel like there's a demand being placed on my body that I keep failing to meet in spite of the many different adjustments and approaches and changes we make to get it done. I already feel like I'm asking enough of my body, forcing it to get fucked on a schedule, to tell me what it's thinking, to subject it to tests, to tell it to work harder and be "healthy". Other than that, I really just want to put it in a cocoon of blankets and comfortable clothes and to try to let my mind escape. I want to protect myself, my mind AND body, from more opportunities for failure.

There are a few other factors contributing to my state of mind, including missing my girly birth control hormones, my ADD and hypersensitivity to stimuli (I am fucking exhausted from processing so much information and trying to tune things out; I have not been able to concentrate at all on blogging or anything), stress/guilt over an argument I had with my mom in March, MISSING my nephew and longing to live closer to my family, and the way all these things work together to make me feel, I suppose, a little depressed. I'm not particularly worried about it in the short term, but if I allow myself to fret about how long this trying-to-conceive business could go on I do get anxious and concerned about, ummm, my mental and emotional health.

I guess my main priorities right now are making my body healthier and focusing on transcending daily worries to get to a place where it's all good, whether it's in a nap, brushing the dog, dancing, reading a book, writing for myself, daydreaming about things that make me happy, visualizing the positive possibilities, drowning myself in mindless entertainment, researching stuff I want to know for future and current projects, listening to cheesy new age music, smelling good things and enjoying sensual (but nonsexual) pleasures like massage, or processing these thoughts and reflecting on my needs the way I am right now by writing this. I feel better having done it.

But I still don't feel like shooting porn. Not today, anyway. And of course this makes me feel slack and guilty which only deepens my mini-depression. I would like to be more productive and intellectually have a hard time allowing myself a break; part of me says if I were a better person I would just WORK HARDER. Still, I know that once we do get pregnant, if we do, there will be a whole new set of demands on my body so maybe it's okay for me to just SURVIVE right now.

NOTE TO MEMBERS: I'm not saying that I'm ceasing shooting, just that updates are coming a little slower than I'd like and don't have as much tastiness as usual. I'm sure we will shoot soon, especially since I'm no longer quite as pudgy as in the above photo. Oh, and another uninspiring factor in all of this is that we really need a better camera; I bought this one in 2002 and it's really not up to par anymore and has some problems. Not so fun to shoot with and the results are less than stellar.

Labels: anxiety, attention deficit disorder, customer relations, depression, emotions, escapism, family, relationships, trying to conceive, webwhore insights, work

posted by Trixie at 6/08/2008 08:42:00 PM - 6 comments - links to this post

 
Attending our county convention yesterday as an Obama delegate counted as my social event for 2008; so what if I only struck up conversations with three people? That's more action than this hermit usually sees.



Because socializing both bores and overwhelms me, I love getting my social time doing things with an agenda where there are rules guiding behavior and people in charge of reinforcing those rules. Parliamentary procedure definitely fills that need, and the lady I complained about here did an awesome job of keeping people in line, pushing them closer to the microphones, speaking coherently and just being generally awesome. She only used one acronym demanding clarification from an audience member which she explained without apology; you've no idea how much I admire that in a woman. While the acronym thing bugs me, I love her unapologetic down-to-business attitude.

It was both a relief and a disappointment discovering that the next caucus happens at the same time we'll be attending the transgender conference where we're on a panel so I couldn't even try to get elected to move on; you wouldn't believe how many people couldn't grasp the concept of a thirty second speech, couldn't keep their name tags swiveled around so people could see their names, and didn't even understand why the timekeeper was waving her arms at them after they'd been droning on in a disorganized fashion for upwards of 90 seconds!

Anyway, it was fun being surrounded by liberal people getting a charge out of showing off their familiarity with Robert's Rules of Order. I loved every minute of it, including the annoying parts/people. The Kucinich fanatics even made wonderful hyper-idealistic points and invited us to join in their futile, counterproductive bid to send as many "undecided" delegates on as possible. It was inspiring, it really was; in addition to preferring structured social events, I also like people-time that has an inspirational and/or change-making purpose, so I loved being in a crowd of people who are all excited about the positive changes our next president can bring and empowered to be part of that.

I wound up bonding with a lady who of course asked me what I do for a living. As usual, I first responded with the deliberately vague "webmaster". With her lovely shining smile she probed deeper, asking, "so what does that mean exactly?"

I liked her and felt like she was a relaxed person, so I told her; "I make porn sites."

Her smile stayed on, bright white and wide and her eyebrows perked up naughtily while she asked me to repeat myself. I laughed and teased her, "you heard me: PORN!"

She loved it, responded with fascinating disclosures about herself, and thanked me for making her day.

Labels: accomplishments, Barack Obama, confessions, inspiration, neighbors, Pacific Northwest, politics, relationships, storytelling

posted by Trixie at 4/27/2008 07:41:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
A little something I just posted on the "Fertile" Trixie blog:

Debating when to take a pregnancy test and whether or not to videotape it

Labels: links, pregnancy, privacy, relationships

posted by Trixie at 3/23/2008 11:00:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
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.

Labels: food, mushrooms, nature, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, plants, rain, relationships, thanksgiving, things I treasure

posted by Trixie at 3/18/2008 11:42:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
When I woke up in the middle of the night to pee, I looked for our dog, Nico, before I stepped out of bed; she likes to sleep sprawled out RIGHT NEXT TO ME on the floor so between her and my nightstand, I have to perform circus tricks to get out of bed without stepping on her.

All that was on the floor in Nico's usual spot was a pillow and a blanket that had fallen off me. Then, because I'm a dipshit, I felt I needed to go looking for her in her dog bed; she wasn't there either. I found her at the foot of the bed, lying very still (the way most living creatures do in the middle of the night).

I don't know when it started, but I've developed an irrational need to make sure people and dogs are still breathing in the middle of the night. I think I started doing it when Delia was still drinking and then it got worse when my nephew was born. Or maybe it was all those years of my dad being sick and watching him die; seeing how easy it could be to just stop breathing without anyone noticing. Also, Nico is getting old; I think she's fourteen now. Anyway, I feel compelled to pop out my earplugs and hover to see if the object of my concern is still breathing, getting close to look for a rising and falling chest or the soft sound of exhalations. My loved ones are apt to wake up to my face in theirs, inquiring once I've woken them up, "are you alive?" Duh. Are you crazy?

It was hard to see last night, so I put my hand on Nico's chest. She didn't flinch or move even a tiny bit. Her thick fur felt cool under my hand. I couldn't feel ANY movement and feared she wasn't breathing so I rubbed her a little. NO RESPONSE. It was like she'd been dead for an hour or two! Then her hind legs relaxed a little bit, but I thought it was just because she wasn't stiff yet and I'd moved her.

I woke Delia up by shrieking, "honey I think Nico's dead!"

Delia woke up and crawled to the end of the bed as I told her I couldn't feel her breathing and she wasn't moving. She gently put her hand on Nico's chest and belly, too and couldn't feel anything so she sharply said, "NICO!" and snapped her fingers.

Nico came back to life, then. It was like magic. She lifted her head and shifted her body to a "should I get up now?" position. Delia flopped back to sleep, I went pee, and when I got back from the bathroom I still couldn't believe Nico hadn't been dead. I felt like she came back to life just because we love her. She was standing at the foot of the bed looking at me; instead of going back to sleep right away, I held out my hand to her so she would come to me and I stayed awake petting her until she settled down to sleep by me. Her body is so little under all of that fur.

*****

You would think I could stop myself from doing these breath-tests by reminding myself I'm being crazy. No one is going to just die in their sleep, at least not anyone who was perfectly healthy the night before. But I don't really believe that so the only way I can stop myself is to tell myself if they're dead, what can you do about it? Just go to sleep and take care of it in the morning. I'm not kidding. That's the only line of reasoning that sometimes works on my three am head. But mostly I figure there's no harm in checking so I do. But there IS harm, when I imagine someone's dead even when they're alive and make my heart start pounding and wake up other people to verify. It's embarrassing and weird.

I cannot sleep in the same room as our nephew anymore because I just stay awake listening to him breathing. If I manage to fall asleep, I still keep waking up with compulsions to listen and check. He's not a tiny baby anymore so the crib death thing isn't really an issue, I'm just painfully aware of his mortality. His and mine and everyone's, I guess.

Labels: anxiety, death, dog, family, fears, mortality, pets, relationships

posted by Trixie at 3/02/2008 10:37:00 AM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
My favorite Christmas present was having Juno come to our town's theatre and getting to watch it with Kris, and seeing Diablo Cody win an Oscar last night for writing Juno was like an early birthday present.

Here's a video of Kris and I at the movies GUSHING over Diablo:



For me, Diablo represents the very best of what the blogosphere and web voyeurism/exhibitionism offer: the opportunity to watch another human's story unfold and experience success along the way. To develop high hopes for someone and cheer for them when things go well. To recognize someone's talent, observe that recognition snowballing, and see her REWARDED for it. It's very fulfilling, and not in a vicarious I-can-now-imagine-it-happening-to-me way, but just in the basic sense of caring about someone and being extremely happy for her.

Of course, she *is* also a symbol to me, too (on top of just being an awesome human); seeing a woman on that stage who has stripped and worked the peeps doing hardcore masturbation shows for money now getting respect for her non-sex work while everyone knows about her stint in sex work is Pretty Fucking Cool.

Anyway, we have (one of) her shining moment(s) recorded on our DVR now and have watched it about 35 times in the past 23 hours; I have cried every single time. And can I just say that she looked fucking fabulous, too?

Labels: blogging, celebrity, confessions, Diablo Cody, friends, movies, relationships, sex work, thanksgiving, victory, web culture

posted by Trixie at 2/25/2008 07:24:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
So The Bi Apple didn't win last night, but we had sex so that cushioned the blow (okay, having sex last night had nothing to do with the awards, but I'm trying to make meaningless connections here so bear with me).

On another positive side of groundbreaking, one of the other cool things about being in that movie is that it featured real-life couples like us (and my partner just happened to also come in handy for a guy-guy scene in addition to the one we did together ;-). I feel like pointing out that we met each other over six years ago; in September we'll have been living together for that many years. Since I was ranting about conservative attitudes towards sexuality, I feel like pointing out that as more-than-BIsexuals, as pornographers, as people with spycams, and as people who sometimes have sex with other people we have, I think, an enviably solid relationship. On top of all of those things that conservative people would consider threats to a healthy relationship, my partner doesn't identify as the same gender she presented as when I met him. Suck on that! And yes, I'm messing with her pronouns on purpose.

The funny part is that I feel like our relationship IS pretty conservative; I don't feel like our lives are wild and crazy at all. If all of those alternative-lifestyle-sounding labels fell off of us or were invisible to people, I think the the average conservative couple would look at us as shining examples of what a long-term relationship (or marriage, even though we're not) should be. But happier.

I feel like we have all of the best parts of an old-fashioned relationship; we run our own little business together and have probably spent MAYBE 30 nights apart from each other TOPS since we've been living together. It's not that we don't like spending time alone (we do that too), but we are pretty tight when the end of the day rolls around. I'm not saying our relationship has been without challenges, just that the assumptions many people would make about the health of our relationship based on our sexual preferences, gender identities, and work are probably a lot different from the reality (the reality being that we have the best, most normal, and healthiest relationship of almost every couple I know).

*****

At the moment I am in the evil throes of PMS, so if you hear me swearing even more than usual on cam, see me looking even sloppier than usual, or notice me ripping out my hair DON'T WORRY; it will pass.

Reminder: if you miss reading the more mundane details of my daily life, you can stay up-to-the-minute with me by following my twitter OR check the daily rundown of my tweets on DailyTrixie.

Labels: gender issues, hormones, my trans partner, relationships, SEX, sociopolitical commentary, thanksgiving, values

posted by Trixie at 2/17/2008 11:58:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
I'm in the process of posting a Valentiney gallery for members with pictures like this (only bigger):







Right now I'm huffing down a bowl of cereal and sorting through a to-do list of about fifty (not exaggerating) things I need to do before we leave for an overnighter. Just the two of us in a suburban hotel room; we're planning to shoot a little porn, too, but the main goal of the evening is to have fun and celebrate a form of Valentine's day with each other before the actual calendar day of the 14th which we will spend with our members. We'll be back home tomorrow after Delia's laser treatment.

Okay, much packing and quick webwhoring to be done. Oh, and it won't surprise me if my period starts while we're supposed to be having romance-time. Not that I mind having my period (obviously, since I made a whole site about it) it's just annoying not knowing, especially when we are hoping to be pregnant. I've no desire to test for pregnancy at this point, though, until AFTER the 6th week of my unpredictably stretched-out cycle starts. Tomorrow is only five weeks (about the average time it takes for my period to start again).

Labels: bodily functions, legwarmers, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, relationships

posted by Trixie at 2/12/2008 12:47:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
If you're looking for good spontaneous conversation, ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE MAN WITH THE TOOTHPICK. He's a conversationalist. You will know his interest in your conversation was reciprocated if, at the end of the conversation, he tosses away the toothpick. If he THROWS the toothpick and says, "aw, to HELL with you" while he walks away then it means you've found a debate partner for life.

I say all this after we walked home from our precinct caucus yesterday and had the best roadside political conversation with a guy with a toothpick and silver braid, wearing a Carhartt jacket over a Harley t-shirt. He stopped us as he got out of his pickup to ask what the caucus was like.

It was interesting. It's only the second time we've attended one, but today's was MUCH more exciting since there seemed to be more Democrats with some fucking common sense (last time the hyper-idealistic simpletons all threw their shit away on Kucinich; those folks were still there yesterday, I kid you not, providing the dictionary illustration for the word "futility"). Judging from what we saw in our precinct and the one next to us, Obama had a huge lead over Clinton in our town (and of course the entire state of Washington).

Both Delia and I felt sad that now that we HAVE to vote by mail, the caucus is really our only opportunity to gather together with other voters en masse to publicly participate in the process. Oh, I know there are other opportunities to get together and be all civic-minded, but those are usually just a handful of people with very specific interests. It's just not the same and now they're trying to get rid of THIS, too, and simplify things with a regular primary. I know voting by mail is cool because it's so easy and convenient (and a way to avoid the nightmare of electronic voting machines), it's just sad that we lose the sense of doing it socially as a community, and in some cases as a nation. Voting seems like even more of a farce by mail. It leaves me feeling disenfranchised as a citizen. It's like using the free address labels The March of Dimes sends you without bothering to send them a donation. If I don't have to leave my house and mill around with strangers in a location I would never otherwise visit I might as well be voting for American Idol; devoid of the common ritual, the process feels trivialized. Actually, voting for American Idol probably feels LESS trivial because at least people have a limited window of time to cast their votes (so are voting TOGETHER) and enjoying the ritual of tuning in next time to see the results.

All we have left is going to see fireworks together or sports in a stadium, and that's just not the same because we attend games and fireworks displays and concerts as observers, not participants. I suppose we still have rallies and parades and protests to participate in, but that's almost TOO much participation. Besides, for all of the work people put into it, there's no official record of what you've done unless you get arrested or win a trophy and nobody in the general population cares about the outcome regardless. I would say at least we still have the pledge of allegiance and singing the national anthem together, but nobody except conservative automatons seem to appreciate the bliss of joining into rituals of mass brainwashing the way I do. Oh well. I suppose there's always traffic court.

Since socializing is not a high priority for me and I tend to enjoy it more in structured environments, losing the opportunity to vote the old-fashioned way is a pretty big blow to my human experience. I loved sitting in the bleachers yesterday with strangers chuckling and criticizing our disorganized party, laughing as they moved their lips unintelligibly with their predictable head-in-the-clouds lack of awareness that nobody could hear their brainy soft-spoken voices while the rest of us in our typical passive Democratic style failed to speak up and point out that WE COULDN'T HEAR THEM. If we'd been Republicans, someone would have immediately stood up and cupped her hand around her ear or made the "up! up!" motion or screamed, "LOUDER!" Those gentle hippies, our brethren. How I wished we could import some of the audible obnoxiousness of our enemies, the loud-mouthed Republicans who know how to ORGANIZE an event and properly strategize.

At some point I realized it might be easy to become a delegate to the county convention, so we stuck around for me to push through the small cluster of other hopefuls and sign up to go. I felt a little cheated that it was all left up to chance (whichever people grabbed a paper and signed up first are going, apparently) instead of competition. I imagined if I were a Republican I would have had to FIGHT with some fat-ass in a red sweatshirt to EARN my spot. That would have been more fun. Perhaps the competition will be stiffer to move from county to the district caucus, though.

I am picking out outfits now, plotting an escalation of attractiveness to try to get to the state convention. If my sordid porn career prevents moving that far along I can console myself with the knowledge that at least I won't have to go to Spokane in August June, which is a nasty hellhole.

Labels: Barack Obama, confessions, goals, neighbors, politics, relationships, ritual, sociopolitical commentary, values

posted by Trixie at 2/10/2008 02:38:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 

A photo I took of Delia.


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.

Labels: beauty standards, body parts, friends, goals, health, PHOTOS, relationships, sex work, thanksgiving, webwhore insights

posted by Trixie at 1/17/2008 10:01:00 PM - 2 comments - links to this post

 


One of the best gifts I could ever get for Christmas is a job well done: work I am happy to look at and share with other people. For this shoot I got to dress up in snowy ice queen garb, all while enjoying our fabulous pink tree. I got to incorporate three things I've had tucked away in hiding far too long: the silvery Diab'less leopard-print coat I paid "too much" for (and now must insist that I wear instead of leaving it hanging unloved in the closet for months on end), long PVC gloves and those whorey bosslady heels. And I am in LOVE with how pale my skin is to the point of looking bluish:



I'm especially thankful for Delia who not only takes my pictures and all that jazz, but puts up with my bullshit. She was really tired yesterday but got everything set up for the shoot AND endured me freaking out because I couldn't find my black waist cincher and insisted she go look for it amongst her own garb. Of course, it was in one of MY drawers, exactly where I first looked for it; I just didn't dig quite deep enough. My hissy fit could have cast a pall over the entire operation, but instead I wound up having a grand time and we captured a great set of photos to share with our members for Christmas. Yay!

*****

I made a lot of appointments this week to take care of things we've been neglecting. We both got our hair done (roots be gone!) AND went to the dentist. Neither of us has been in over five years; we've given our dog better dental attention than ourselves. I shouldn't be surprised, but I have a whole bunch of cavities that need to be filled. Once upon a time I was obsessive about brushing my teeth (I think I only had one tiny cavity/filling until I was out of high school) but not so much anymore; our estimate for work needed is over three thousand dollars between the two of us.

I also used some of my personal webwhore earnings to get not one, but TWO massages. I found the most promising (yet least expensive) advertised therapists and gave them a whirl that was WELL worth the $100 I spent for 2.5 hours of blissful therapeutic touch. More on that later, though. I'm going to take a bath, then put the finishing touches on this gallery for members.

Labels: health, money, mundane, PHOTOS, relationships, webwhore insights

posted by Trixie at 12/21/2007 09:16:00 PM - 2 comments - links to this post

 


Delia had a sperm deposit to make in Seattle on Thursday. On our way to catch the ferry, we stopped for Chicken McNuggets on Bainbridge Island. I went inside quickly while Delia waited in the car and thought I saw an old familiar face of someone I fucked (and adored) years ago: Brian the Cop. I only saw him briefly out of the corner of my eye sitting at a table in back with some other men and dismissed the feeling of recognition to hurry and fill up our pop and get on our way so we wouldn't miss our boat. When I went back outside and noticed a police car with K-9 Unit written all over it, I realized it really must have been him and became GIDDY remembering how senselessly attracted I was to him.

This past year I've thought a lot about my promiscuous post-divorce adventures and the guys I met through a mutual interest in sex. I've thought about how they were all pretty decent fellows and that I was lucky to cross paths with them. I've thought about how unfairly mean and dismissive I was to some of them in my retarded early blog posts. I didn't have much in common with most of them, but I did like them and I feel even more fond of them now that they're cute little memories I can wonder about and wish well from a distance.

As I get older, I also feel guiltier and more conscious of some things I've done (or failed to do) that were idiotic, insensitive, unforgivably horrid, self-indulgent and/or just plain embarrassing. In fact, just the day or two before the Brian sighting I was spanking myself internally with mortification over the memory of how my retarded and unjustifiable infatuation with Brian the Cop led me to make my sorta-girlfriend at the time cry. I was inexcusably mean and stupid, and I enjoyed the whole fantastically dramatic mess.

Seeing him again, albeit fleetingly, made me forgive myself. He's stupid, I'm stupid -- we're all stupid. And beautiful. It doesn't matter what a goon the guy was, it WORKED for me and it's just not human to deny that some people electrify your insides in spite of how wrong they are for you. I'm thankful I never got the chance to completely ruin my life over someone like that and feel blessed that I got to enjoy the silly thrill of it all.

He was 6'4" and his penis was on the small side. He was a premature ejaculator and he had this song playing on his website. He was big and hairy and ridiculous and I loved every lie he told me. When I expressed interest in humping his assault rifle, he followed through and brought it over for me. Though I loved seeing its sexy blackness laying on my bed, I had to admit with disappointment that it wasn't designed for humping and that his hand and small penis were much better suited to my genitals.

I grinned like an idiot all the way to the ferry terminal and chuckled to myself over the bad fucking joke of it all. While we waited for the boat to arrive, Delia left the car to go to the bathroom and I looked around the holding area wondering if I'd see Brian jump out with one of his big German Shepherds to sniff out drugs and terrorists. I wanted to see him again without him seeing me.

I got distracted from thoughts of Brian when I saw a beautiful brunette woman in the distance and immediately felt a pang of attraction, that "WHO is THAT?!?" moment, before realizing a split second later that I actually knew her, too!

It was Delia coming back from the bathroom. Lucky, lucky, lucky times three (billion) because that woman in the distance is my girlfriend and it's no accident she's walking towards me.

Labels: confessions, cops, memories, my trans partner, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, relationships, Seattle, things I treasure, TURN ONS

posted by Trixie at 12/15/2007 01:17:00 PM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
My apologies for not finishing any of my five hundred blog drafts. And apologies for this particular post not being anything you will want to read, seriously.

I'm a little tense, feeling like I'm falling down on my job(s). Not getting everything done or really much of anything lately. I'm feeling a little emotionally drained from the family emergencies and some of the "feelings" it dredges up with me -- my role, who I am in the family; I'm always the one who lives far away and works too much. My mom lives alone so having her break her arm to the point of requiring surgery and an overnight hospital stay is a pretty big thing, especially when it then falls on my sister's shoulders to drive her around and take care of her after she JUST had her appendix taken out in emergency surgery herself, and has a barfing baby and husband to take care of, too. it's a real triple whammy. I tell myself I shouldn't waste my free ticket by getting stressed out over things I can't help, but it's happening anyway. There's been some other stressful stuff going on too, but it's a little too personal to go into right now.

Needless to say, the Thanksgiving I was so looking forward to has to be postponed.

At least I'm doing a good job with my exercise goal this week, having gone three days in a row and will go on Thanksgiving too to meet my goal. I am in such poor shape that my body is pretty tired, though; I need a few more consistent gym days to get to that point where I have MORE energy instead of LESS after exercising.

When I went out to "take care of" my sister over the weekend, I saw she'd purchased the Lord of the Rings dvd set. She said it was her five pound(s lost) reward to herself. I said "huh" to myself, and realize that I do a very totally fucking shitty job of rewarding myself when I finish things. I'm great at making lists, halfway great at checking them off, but I totally drop the ball on the reward/pat-self-on-back step. I imagine that I do congratulate myself and give myself internal warm fuzzies, but they only last half a second and then I'm already choking up on fifty other listed tasks/goals/whatevers I want to get on to. Taking time and energy for proper praise and reward seem so inefficient to me!

It's not that I deprive myself of happy treats and moments of luxury, I just don't take the little bit of extra effort to TIE treating myself to finishing something or meeting goals. I'm going to try to do that more often. Today I decided that whenever I manage to talk to my mom on the phone, I'm going to reward myself with 15-30 minutes on the Playstation (I hate talking to my mom on the phone). I also decided I'm going to give myself a fucking break and allow myself to focus on this exercise task this week and be proud of myself for meeting my gym goal REGARDLESS OF WHAT OTHER THINGS I DON'T GET DONE. My health is pretty fucking important, and seeing what my mom and sister are going through with their own hospital visits really should bring that home to me, especially considering they have insurance and I don't. What could be more important than me taking care of my body?

We also met our goal of not watching tv today. My natural reaction to that statement is that meeting the goal should be its own reward, but then I think I'm slacking again by not really patting myself on the back harder over it.

I'm going to go stretch and hit the mattress. Hard.

Labels: family, goals, health, mundane, relationships

posted by Trixie at 11/20/2007 11:23:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
I am grateful for having been forced to take more than a couple courses in human relations and for having been taught better ways of communication, even if I can't seem to properly apply those lessons in their entirety.

The problem I run across sometimes is that I don't *want* to be mature when I'm talking about my feelings. I want my descriptions of my feelings to make sense, but still acknowledge that the feelings themselves are irrational and exist in a place that's separate from careful thought and planning. "I-messages" are sweet, and I try to use them, but my delivery? It's so NOT textbook.

There's something totally fucking ridiculous about talking in a mature way about totally immature feelings like jealousy and selfishness. I think I'm afraid that if I go that extra mile and speak as though I'm in control of those feelings and am able to supervise them in an adult way that I'm making even more of an ass of myself than if I sputter and betray my dejected spirit through my mannerisms. Yes, I'm petty and easily-annoyed; I don't think it will make me a better person to admit this in a tone that suggests I'm above-it-all. Squinty-eyed, spitting madness is more appropriate, or at least an awkward inability to make eye-contact when confessing it.

This has been a public service announcement from the board of unfuckingbalanced hormones.

Baby Jesus: I really miss my birth control pills.

Labels: confessions, relationships, values

posted by Trixie at 11/08/2007 09:35:00 AM - 0 comments - links to this post

 


Watering a tender, fuzzy little plant you've neglected until its dirt dried out, then seeing it spring back to wet-rooted life in an hour to the point where it looks as though its leaves and stems are levitating and dancing in midair -- that feels like forgiveness.

You can fuck up so bad, and still there is someone or something alive that's resilient enough to endure you, thank you and forgive you.

Delia brought home this little pincushion plant as a present for ME even though it's HER birthday. Even though I was the one being an asshole.



The witch in the background was also a gift from her to me.

Labels: PHOTOS, plants, relationships, things I treasure

posted by Trixie at 10/31/2007 05:03:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
LINK TO THE LATEST

Half of the answer to everyone's question and reaction of surprise to our news about deciding to try to get pregnant:

"But I thought you didn't WANT to have kids!?!"

Labels: family, pregnancy, relationships

posted by Trixie at 6/17/2007 08:34:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
AFTER SHE FALLS ASLEEP

I may be developing a (bad?) habit; Delia keeps falling asleep at night way before I'm ready to nod off so I've been reaching over to fondle her while she's sleeping. I get her cock hard in my hand and play with it until she wakes up, and then we have hot, steamy sex.

Last night I first tried getting myself off with my eroscillator. I mean, I *did* get off with it. But all that did was make me very ready to fuck and get off again, hence another episode of taking advantage of Delia in her sleep.

Fortunately, she doesn't seem to mind.

Note: I do not condone sexually touching (or touching in any way) a sleeping person who cannot give / has not given prior explicit consent that it's okay to do so. Even in a committed sexual relationship you shouldn't assume that it's okay to stroke, lick, or mount your partner when s/he is sleeping. Find out how your partner feels about it first and be prepared for him or her to change her mind about it down the road. I'm totally not joking -- this is one of those boundary issues where consent gets very blurry.

Labels: relationships, SEX, sexual consent

posted by Trixie at 5/27/2007 06:34:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
WHEN YOUR BOYFRIEND BECOMES YOUR GIRLFRIEND

Some of you may be a little thrown off by the casual way I mentioned that Delia is going to phase out Tucker in favor of living en femme on a full time basis. This isn't a porn business thing, this is honestly a big life decision; my boyfriend wants to start living life as a transwoman (probably to involve hormones at some point but probably not "bottom" surgery).

I promise we'll write more about all of this later, but in the meantime I just want to say that the top priority right now is sorting through it ourselves; it's hard to blog about something when you don't really have a definite plan of action and you need to focus on quality face time with each other and figuring out how Delia will come out to family and friends.

In general it's really not as big of a bombshell as it might sound. I can't say I am 100% prepared, but I've known for a long time it was within the realm of possibility. I also can't say I don't have ANY issues or fears about this transition from boyfriend/sometimes-girlfriend to full-time girlfriend, but relative to other people's experiences and expectations this is not a really big deal except in an exciting way. For me (in terms of life changes) I would rank it at the same level as selling a house you really love and have lived in for years in order to buy a sweeter house you also love and that will work better for your family. A little stressful, a little sad, but overall a blessing and positive change. You can make your home anywhere when you're with someone you love, and I love my boygirlfriend.

I think part of why this change is feeling natural to me more than overwhelmingly scary is that my parents (especially my mom) raised me to shrug off conventions and expectations. My family was fairly unconventional with my dad and stepdad getting along well, and my dad living with my mom's parents (his ex-mother and father-in-law) long after my mom and dad divorced. Things that weren't normal for other families were totally normal for us. My mom is the type of person who genuinely thinks we should do whatever makes us happy and fuck everyone else if they have a problem with it. Again, I can't say that my family won't have ANY worries about this change, but I am lucky to have been brought up to feel comfortable defying cultural norms and to have a family I can count on to support and accept us without undue drama or shock; I mean, HELLO -- they've dealt really well with me being a pornographer/virtual sex worker so this might be small beans in comparison. I'm pretty sure both my mom and sister are prepared for the news (which we haven't exactly given them yet since the news is really REALLY new and I think we want to talk about it in person).

As far as our websites go, we'll probably take this opportunity to make them a network in the near future (join one, you get access to them all) since we won't be able to keep TrixiesHouseboy.com going forever as-is but still want to keep it alive and accessible (and probably morph it into a multi-guy site as we get more resources). Also, Delia will no longer be "just" a crossdresser as the domain DeliaCD.com implies, so she'll also be transitioning to a new domain with a slightly different approach, but of course we'll want her members to be able to get access to all of the CD site stuff, too. I've actually been wanting for a long time to make all of our stuff available to all members regardless of which site interests them most, since I really like showing off ALL of it as one body of work even though it's more sensible to market each persona individually. I'm not totally sure when this will happen but it might be soon (and later lead to revamping the format of our members-only areas to reflect the all-inclusive approach).

Anyway, I want to be careful to remind people that when I talk about Delia's transition I can only talk about it from MY perspective; there's a limit to how much I can know and understand what she's feeling, hoping and experiencing. Even though we are going through this as a couple, she's also going through it as an individual (same for me) and I think those could all be pretty distinctive journeys and not one of us really knows for sure where we'll end up. Happy and together are what I'm aiming for.

Labels: announcements, family, gender issues, my trans partner, relationships, transition

posted by Trixie at 5/22/2007 07:07:00 PM - 3 comments - links to this post

 
MY WILDEST FANTASY

During one of my webcam shows one man, a Bob, asked me to describe my "wildest fantasy".

I told him paying off my credit cards is my biggest, wildest fantasy.

You really need to qualify a question like that if you want to corner me into hot talk during a free group show otherwise I'm going to tell you THE TRUTH. Before he heard my answer he told me that he was my man and all I need to do is go to Georgia to have my "wildest fantasy" fulfilled. By him. By a Bob. Then he gave me someone's phone number for over 500 people in the chatroom to read. I should have called it and said, "that will be $42,621.05 to fulfill me, Bob."

*****

On a *slightly* more erotic note, one of my fantasies is to lavish friends and strangers with gifts. I am particularly fond of fantasizing about gifting former female friends I'm currently estranged from. I want them to know that I love them even though I'm not a good friend. And yes, I do also fantasizing about giving presents to the women I share in-tact friendships with.

I would write a beautiful, detailed list of some of the gifts I want to give some of these women but at least a few of them read this blog and I don't want to ruin the surprise; I intend someday to fulfill these fantasies, wild as they may be.

*****

Fact: Big Kenny of the band Big and Rich had $140,000 in credit card debt when they were making their first album. So don't give me any shit about having all that baggage!!! Debt seriously doesn't kill everyone and anyway, it gives me something to fantasize about that's rife with the thrill of danger!

Labels: fantasies, friends, goals, relationships, webcam shows, webwhore insights

posted by Trixie at 4/25/2007 11:41:00 AM - 1 comments - links to this post

 
"BEST COCK" AWARD & JAMES ELLROY

Oooh, my boy/girlfriend, Delia, is this week's "Best Cock" and "Horniest" viewer-awards winner on iFriends.

Eat your hearts out!

*****

While Delia is webwhoring today/tonight, I'm driving her crazy with cam issues and complaining that she's not in the spycam chat. I'm sure she loves that. When I'm not busy doing that, I've been working on other stuff, eating, DDRing, and READING.

An engrossing book, finally! I was trying to take a break from true crime, but this true story of James Ellroy's mother's murder beckoned to me: My Dark Places. Yeah, the guy who wrote L.A. Confidential and The Black Dahlia, neither of which I've read (but did digest in movie form).

Having just opened the book today, I'm not too far into it yet but as a woman and sex worker (and true crime story hobbyist) I'm intrigued by the perspective of a boy who lost his mother in a brutal sex crime and then became a man making his living creating popular entertainment out of stories of -- you know -- brutal sex crimes. I suppose it's nothing new, these stories told by men of raped and murdered women, but Ellroy is a good storyteller and this particular story is incredibly personal so it's fascinating the way he starts out with such a depersonalized narrative maintaining a giant distance between his adult self, the little boy he was at the time, and his mother. I can't wait to see how it progresses.

You know how people like to point at sex workers and label them damaged goods, drawn into the sordid skin trade never by choice but always by some history of past and present victimhood? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. We do our jobs because we were sexually abused or because we've been brainwashed by pop culture into thinking we're only valuable as sex objects, blah blah blah. And we need to be rescued.

You don't hear people saying that about the James Ellroys or the cops, though, do you? Because men are not victims, they are HEROES. They turn it around and do something PRODUCTIVE with their lives, right? But sex work . . . THAT'S not productive. No, but if I were to write books with pictures of dead swollen-headed mommies that would be okay -- not damaged at all! Talented . . . rich . . . respected and admired. You can respectably write stories which are made into movies featuring mutilated skin-flick actresses and you don't have women trying to adopt you out of your life of crime and rehabilitate you into a humble-but-DECENT job (ex. flipping burgers at McDonalds, helping at a daycare in an inner city, or maybe teaching if you're smart enough) the way they would if you were a sex worker. Funny how that works, eh?

*****

Some sex-worker linkage:

*Sex Workers Make Art (and raise money from dildo craftiness)

*FurryGirl is going to be on Night Calls! I don't have an actual link to it, but here's a quote from her members-only area:

I've been invited to be a call-in guest on "I've been invited to be a call-in guest on Playboy Radio's Night Calls with Ginger Lynn and Christy Canyon. (If you have Sirius satellite radio, I hope you'll be able to tune in!) They'd like to talk to me about Veg Porn and the Veg Sex Shop for Earth Day, which is Friday the 20th. It's really cool to get that level of media attention for my sites, and I'm excited about it.

Follow-up analysis:
See, for some reason I can't imagine anyone thinking that these people would be healthier or more productive if they were writing books about savage woman-killings instead of making porn. It just doesn't make sense to me.

Labels: accomplishments, body parts, books, James Ellroy, movies, pop culture, relationships, SEX, sociopolitical commentary, true crime, webcam shows, worse than porn

posted by Trixie at 4/15/2007 09:39:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
BETTER

I channeled my frustration into a little housecleaning and now I feel much, MUCH better. Housework and hysterics are a perfect combo in my book, and Tucker is very accommodating and sweet in the face of my nervous breakdowns. I was even capable of reconstructing my Thunderbird inbox post-housework, which means I can complete a task Tucker is relying upon me to complete so he can send out a newsletter.

Anyway, we are again going to focus on shooting the next couple of days so I don't have any chat sessions scheduled until Friday (breakfast in bed chat) and Saturday (News FLASH!).

Labels: accomplishments, announcements, mundane, relationships

posted by Trixie at 4/10/2007 08:01:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
HERMIT TRIXIE


Full Gallery appearing now in my Members-Only area.
Join TastyTrixie.com or SpyOnUs.com for all of my photos & videos!

I've enjoyed a fantastic week and a fantastic birthday, so fantastic, in fact, that I'm in worn-out hermit mode. THIS is also a contributing factor in my fatigue.

I think I might also be a little bit depressed; getting to spend so much time with family this week was so pleasant that I feel frustrated we live hours away from each other. My face still hurts from grinning at my nephew. It bothers me that I can't see him whenever I want to at the drop of a hat, and I blame myself. I blame myself for not making enough money to have more reliable transportation to make visiting easier. I blame myself for not making enough money to have a bigger television so we could all watch Borat without eyestrain. I blame myself for not making enough money to have a house where everyone can stay and be comfortable and stretch out for days and weeks and months at a time. I blame myself for not making enough money to help out my family with their own financial woes. I blame myself for not getting ahead on work stuff so that I could hang out without having to think about what I needed to accomplish.

Being around a nine-month old child carrying portions of my DNA alters my perspective on a lot of things, too. My perspective on what I do for work, for example, and the stand I take on certain free speech issues. The maternal instinct is really one of emotional hysteria, I think, which overwhelms my family-unfriendly intellectualizations of certain issues. I'm being vague, I know, but my point is just to share that I feel a little tipped-over and unsteady, and yes -- I do have a maternal instinct. It's been pretty easy for me to deny it since I've not been around little kids for extended periods of time for the past thirteen years, but I was never one of those people who totally didn't understand wanting kids (I just wanted NOT to have them more, or to have foster kids which is out of the question now for me: my only real regret about entering this line of work and being so open about it). I'm also just worn out from the crazy emotions of the intense joy (observing my nephew, hearing him, feeling him, smelling him, making him laugh and smile) combined with intense anxiety (irrationally fearing for his life when he's sleeping, crying, wobbling, etc.). And it's not just my nephew, but seeing my sister. My little sister as a mom. My little sister and her son, who shapeshifts between her, her husband/his dad, my grandpa, my uncle, my grandma . . . I've always been close to my sister so combining the enormity of love and awe and protectiveness I feel for her with the enormity of love and awe and protectiveness I feel for her child / my nephew is just SO BIG that it's a shock to my system once Tucker and I are alone in the house again.

This morning I watched morning television on the networks (the "news" and The View) and that made me feel strange, too. I never watch that stuff in the morning (I think I've only watched The View a few times with my mom) and I felt like I was on another planet or had entered a parallel universe or something. The whole thing felt totally surreal. There was Rosie and Barbara and Joy and what's-her-stupid-face, all talking about their children and partners and family . . . talking to one another like they are "real people" having a normal conversation but they're on a stage entertaining hoardes of strangers, totally detached and disconnected from their children and families and real friends. And there I was, lying alone in bed, mouth unmoving except to chew food. My arms sore and heavy repairing from the unaccustomed lifting of my nephew's weight earlier this week. Conspicuously empty.

I'm going to go brush the dog.

Labels: bodily functions, body parts, family, mundane, PHOTOS, pop culture, relationships, thanksgiving

posted by Trixie at 3/22/2007 08:51:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
GHETTO BOOTY XXL VOLUME 2

It's only the second time we've paid for porn via DirecTV; the first time I tried being frugal and ordered one of the cheapest movies I could find; of course, it sucked, mainly because the action and talent didn't at all match the description and title. Annoying! So this time I splurged on a movie with a standard price ($10.99) and a title that I thought would mean I couldn't go wrong: Ghetto Booty XXL Volume 2.

The description ("pretty girls make men smile") didn't provide any indication what kind of action we'd find, so I hoped there would be a lot of taunting booty-clapping, jiggling, walking and dancing before any sex took place. Of course, I was almost completely wrong. If I'm paying to see a girl's ass, why would I want to see 20 seconds of it and then two minutes of her pussy VIEWED FROM THE FRONT? I want to see it from behind -- hello! If I'm paying to see a girl's ass, why in the world would I want to see a blowjob in every single scene? And why in the world would every single scene culminate in a cumshot to the face or delivered on the tongue instead of shot all over the ghetto booty I obviously want to see? I totally don't get it. I love blowjobs and all, but it's disappointing when you were anticipating lots of ass, not lots of head. I am so sick of the ubiquitous hurried facials, particularly when there are more obvious and convenient places to shoot a load (like, on someone's ass when the people buying the movie obviously LIKE asses).

Obviously we need to research our purchases a little bit more instead of hoping for the best based on the inane descriptions provided on the tv guide; these kinds of mistakes make it clearer to me why some porn consumers become porn collectors and develop a certain level of expertise regarding their favorite performers, studios, etc. You really have to do some homework to find porn that delivers what you like best.

I'd say that 85% of the moving-picture porn I've rented or purchased in my life has been a disappointment. I don't mean that I have high standards and was expecting greatness, I mean it was either totally boring and/or an actual turn-OFF. The kind of stuff where you practically have to force yourself to masturbate to it just so you feel like you're getting your money's worth. That's really saying a lot considering I've happily masturbated to images of FRUIT on a pbs gardening program.

A couple of the biggest turn-offs for me in this Ghetto Booty movie are the same things that turn me off in most porn: unlubricated pussies being fucked and unprotected sex. Nothing turns me off more than seeing a cock shoved into a dry pussy. I fucking HATE it. Lube is not that expensive so BUY SOME AND USE IT. Oh, I know that a lot of guys freak out when lube is used because they think it's an admission of non-arousal, but isn't the bone-dry pussy and the talent's totally bored expression and faked moans a tip-off? Are guys really able to convince themselves porn performer's are totally into it UNLESS a bottle of lube is introduced and then the whole illusion is destroyed? And as far as unprotected sex goes, I actually do get more aroused watching people fuck without condoms BUT I just wish they would say something at the beginning to assure us that the people were tested and stuff. Maybe it's a chick thing, but I worry about those girls, particularly when they are being FUCKED DRY which makes risky sex even riskier. I find myself sympathizing with the pain the performers are enduring and worrying about their safety rather than being aroused, and it's not just because they are women -- I feel the same way seeing men fucked up the ass without condoms or lube, or having their penises mauled by insensitive hands or teeth. And honestly it's not that I don't like watching certain kinds of rough sex (gagging, choking, spanking, etc), but pointless pain in vanilla engagements just makes me feel so chapped and tense.

I think a lot of women feel the same way I do about stupid-things-in-porn and it could be one of the many and complex reasons women get upset when their male partners enjoy porn so much; how is it that men can enjoy porn without their empathy getting in the way? THOSE ARE DRY PUSSIES!! Isn't that anti-erotic to them? Isn't it a turn off knowing that person is in pain? And don't tell me just because guys don't have their own pussies that they can't recognize genuine pain when the performer is saying "Owww!" and cringing when a big fat dick is stuffed in her DRY PUSSY. For a lot of wives and girlfriends it can be really upsetting to suspect that maybe your boyfriend or husband is turned on by things that cause women pain, like, you know -- DRY PUSSY. Or that maybe he's too stupid to notice it or just completely lacks the empathy or imagination to give a shit. Fortunately I have never been in a relationship with a guy who was turned on by dry pussy (I think Tucker was even more bored watching Ghetto Booty than I was), but the fact that this dry-pussy porn sells and is so rampant does make me view men-in-general with a high degree of suspicion and anger.

On the other hand, I think a lot of men just tolerate bad porn rather than lauding it as great; they recognize it's lame but hey -- there aren't a lot of alternatives and it still "works" for them, so even though they might understand that it's fucked up and prefer something better, they just take what's provided. Still, I know that a whole lot of guys honestly *don't* have any empathy or understanding of what they're watching, and I know this because I deal with them by the thousands in group shows (and observe them in other people's shows). The things many of them say indicate to me that they are dangerously ignorant and devoid of compassion. I can understand why some women get all crazy-mad about porn, then, when it brings out some major character flaws in men. Too bad most women who do get all crazy-mad about porn can't articulate (or are unwilling to recognize) what the REAL problems are (men being encouraged to be totally ignorant of women's bodies, not having empathy for others, etc.) and instead like to pretend that PORN MAKES MEN that way; they like to pretend that if we got rid of porn and all the women who make money in porn, then men would be perfect little angels!! Good luck, you stupid bitches.

*****

I really would rather spend money on internet porn paysite memberships rather than whole movies, but we don't have a fancy setup to watch internet porn on a computer hooked up to television in our bedroom; our computers don't have big monitors and they're not anywhere near a bed so if Tucker and I are going to watch porn together (or alone in a comfortable bed), it has to be on dvd, vhs, or ordered via satellite. It's kind of amazing how cheap internet porn is compared to buying one movie at a time. I guess if I want to get serious about consuming porn myself, we're going to have to upgrade our bedroom's "entertainment center" to include whatever-we-need to view internet stuff on tv, or get a big monitor and another computer or wireless or whatever-the-hell people do nowadays. I'm so behind-the-times.

Labels: education, gender issues, health, porn consumers, PORNOGRAPHY, relationships, TURN-OFFS

posted by Trixie at 2/18/2007 11:51:00 AM - 4 comments - links to this post

 
MY VALENTINE

I may be the luckiest girl in the world. My boyfriend brings me flowers after *I* have been an asshole. It's bass ackwards and I love it.

*****

Normally I hate honkers.

Last week we drove separate vehicles home from the mechanic's, tension relieved by good news of a quick fix that cost nothing. I followed behind his pickup for a few miles before he pulled off to get gas and I kept going past him to the bank. As he waited to make his turn and I passed him, he honked. Two quick honks. See you soon, honey. Love you. Meet you back at home. I couldn't see his face as I passed him. I don't know if other drivers were distracted or angered by this interruption; it didn't cross my mind until days later when I heard someone else honking in long, frustrated tones, and then I smiled again.

Two short honks between us that everyone else could hear; mundane code for "I love you".

*****

We had "it's the middle of the night and I can't sleep" sex last night. It was dark, but I wonder if any of our voyeurs heard us? I could barely hear us myself, listening instead to a naughty phrase that repeated in my head a few times: daddy and all his friends . . . daddy and all his friends until I came and collapsed on top of him.

*****

I put a couple of chat sessions on the schedule for Valentine's Day and will add more stuff during the week as soon as I find out when we'll be gone visiting family this week, if at all. I'm also changing my show days from Friday and Saturday to Monday and Tuesday so I won't be doing more shows until next week. Doing six one-hour shows in five days is too much for me and my pussy to hack. Delia is sticking with Sunday, though, so she'll be putting on a show today and entertaining private viewers after that.

*****

If you heard me burst into tears suddenly last night after someone on tv proclaimed, "I am a lesbian and I will not hide" (or something like that), well, it was more moving than it sounded. Make fun of me if you like, but I am a sucker for this Secret Lives of Women show. Last night I watched "Late in Life Lesbians" and one woman in one the couples they profiled didn't want to show her face, so they blurred and shadowed it during the entire show. At first it was like, "oh come ON! Show your face! What's the big deal?" until they revealed the reason why; she was a veteran and didn't want to lose her benefits. At the very end of the show they displayed that family of two women and three children in a melodramatic pose, lesbian Marine in the foreground with her face blurred out. And then suddenly they unblurred her face and she made that statement. YOU WOULD HAVE BURST INTO TEARS TOO!! Well done, WE entertainment, WELL DONE.

Labels: family, relationships, SEX, television, TURN ONS, voyeurism

posted by Trixie at 2/11/2007 01:41:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
TORMENTED

After shooting lots of photos and video of Tucker and Delia the past two days, I found myself EXTREMELY, PAINFULLY, TORMENTED by excitement. In spite of all the spunk Tucker already sacrificed for the camera, he welcomed me into his arms last night for some passionate kissing which immediately aggravated my sensitive condition, causing me to rub against him. A small amount of that friction seemed bring me near the brink of orgasm, but I wanted all of it so we took off our pants and fucked on the cottage couch until I had a healthy orgasm. Yay!

I'm actually horny right now, just remembering it and writing about it. It's making me VERY UNCOMFORTABLE and highly agitated.

Unfortunately we have to take a trip in the gas-guzzling truck right now to buy some computer necessaries. When we get home we're going to watch American Idol. If I'm lucky, maybe we'll fuck some more, because right now my swollen genitalia are annoying me!!!!

Labels: mundane, relationships, SEX, TURN ONS, webwhore insights

posted by Trixie at 1/18/2007 04:30:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
HOW PORN-MAKING AFFECTS US

On Tuesday we shot a hot POV (point of view) blowjob video culminating in many jets of spooge being shot in the air right in front of my face and tongue. To make it a GOOD video, we made sure the BJ lasted a nice long while (fifteen or twenty minutes?). By the time Tucker came, I was so wet and so excited from playing with his cock I wondered why we don't shoot videos like that more often.

There's only one reason we don't shoot more hardcore: because we're lazy. Oh, I sometimes beg out of it using the excuse that I want our sex to be natural and not staged for the camera with a bunch of lights shining on us because that detracts from the fun of having real sex, but that's a lie because I've enjoyed every single sex scene we've shot. Sure, it's a nuisance setting up the lights and your range of motion becomes limited and there are professional considerations to make and a certain amount of self-consciousness to contend with, but overall they usually wind up being a pretty good time.

It's true that making porn and doing camshows can often drain us of recreational sexual energy, but sometimes it actually amps up our sex drives. I almost hate to admit it, but being semi-obligated and professionally-motivated to shoot hardcore porn for our members is a really good thing for our relationship, especially at this point. THIS point, where we've been living together, 99% monogamous, for over four years and fucking each other (almost exclusively) for five.

We have always had great sex since the very beginning -- really steamy stuff. As the years have progressed we've perfected sex to something that requires really minimal effort and has lost some of its old creative ambition. For example, I hardly ever give him head even though I love having his cock in my mouth -- it's just not efficient though since I, well -- since I sort of like having quickies and I orgasm quickly by riding him. Over the years we've started defaulting to the most-efficient position and haven't been talking as dirty to each other. The sex is still great, it's just not as varied or all-consuming as it used to be on a regular basis.

I shudder to think how our sex would decline and grow even more stale if we weren't motivated by porn to liven things up every so often and remind ourselves how gratifying an episode of oral sex with the lights on can be.

We are not so different from all the other couples out there with regular jobs and regular lives. I mean, everything about us is regular except that we have porn sites. Sometimes guys say how much they wish their wives were like me and I remind them that I am not as different from their wives as they imagine me to be -- the only difference is that I get PAID to be sexy. Maybe if their wives were paid to have sex on camera and could justify spending money on the lingerie and shoes I buy then they would be just like I am.

Even with all of the motivation and freedom I have to lead a hypersexual super-stimulating life, "regularity" has set in for us, too. It's not a complaint, it's natural -- when things are perfect and cozy and wonderful you get lazy and complacent and take everything for granted. Sometimes you have to remember that keeping a relationship vital and exciting IS WORK. We are lucky that our relationships (to each other and to ourselves) IS our work, our sole source of income, and it forces us to spice things up in ways that I think we'd probably neglect even more if we had normal jobs.

Food and television encourage us to spend so much time not looking at each other and getting pleasure from stuffing our faces it really does take a concerted effort to get turned on when we are so used to each other. It's not like the old days where we only had one day a week with each other to get all fucked-out with each other's still-unfamiliar bodies. Shooting porn and scheduling sex can actually be a blessed exercise in looking at each other from fresh angles and reminding ourselves that we *are* sexy (to each other and to ourselves) and there is a whole audience of people eager to masturbate to whatever we produce and they aren't tired of us yet. I don't want to make it sound like Tucker "bores" me now that we've been together for a handful of years; that's not what I'm saying (though I do think it's really natural for people to be less-easily aroused by long-term partners the longer long-term they are; let's be realistic AND let's not forget I've put on a few pounds -- I do think it makes a difference, at least to me -- or forget to consider poor Tucker who endures my toxic gaseous emissions on a daily basis). I adore Tucker and love him more and more all the time and I still never stop being amazed at how gorgeous and beautiful he is. I think as your love for someone expands and deepens, the sexual part of that love becomes a relatively smaller, less-obvious factor and hey -- I'd be a liar if I pretended we don't have a couple of "issues" we both need to work on; things do pop up in long-term relationships that need some attention and distract you from 24/7 fuck marathons.

A couple of hours after we shot that video we wound up fucking; I was still wet from the excitement of giving him head. We did it with the lights off but people could still hear us on our spycams. We did it the same way we always do but somehow it was more exciting and charged up just because we stepped out of our routine earlier that day to make some blowjob porn.

I hesitate to post this entry because it feels almost too-private and too-easily misunderstood, but I think it's a good reality check for non-porn people to realize that we are not insatiable nymphomaniacs; we actually struggle with many of the same challenges other couples deal with and people should be wary of the temptation to judge or criticize their own relationships or partners by comparing them to people who are entertainers, especially if the entertainment they offer is pornography. It's not a fair comparison if all you're looking at is the pretty pictures, hour-long shows, and little video clips.

I should also emphasize that I don't think a relationship is going down the toilet just because there's less sex in it than there was in the beginning, or even if you go through dry spells. I'm also not here to judge people who don't really care about sex all that much and have based their relationships (or solitude) on de-emphasizing sex. I just usually like life a lot more when I'm getting laid regularly and am just reminding myself and other people that sometimes you have to make a conscious EFFORT to put on your sex-hat.

Shit -- I should also clarify that working on a relationship means more than working on the SEX part of a relationship. I'm pretty sure that working on the other parts usually indirectly lead to more and better sex, but anyway -- I was supposed to be writing a "sexy" blog entry, not a therapeutic cuddlefest for couples. Leave it to me to make even a simple sex entry into a huge brain dump full of caveats.

Labels: porn consumers, PORNOGRAPHY, relationships, SEX, sex work, webwhore insights, work

posted by Trixie at 1/14/2007 10:53:00 AM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
It's been awhile since I posted a picture so here you go. Evidence that maybe the Tommy Edwards shoot wasn't SO bad . . .


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I know I'm sleepy or have been using my brain too much when I start spelling phonetically. I just caught myself typing, "figer out" when I meant to say "figure out". Hmmm.

You'll be happy to know my period started a few hours ago. Yay!

I feel a little isolated right now which is good in a way because it's evidence that I'm concentrating and working, but it's disturbing because the sun has been out here the past few days and I haven't really gotten to enjoy it at all. Houseboy is constantly working . . . happily he got rid of one of his work days though so when he catches up on some outside jobs hopefully he'll actually have a few days off for me to exploit him!

Labels: PHOTOS, relationships

posted by Trixie at 2/25/2003 11:07:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
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.


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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

posted by Trixie at 2/02/2003 08:48:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
Knowing I have so much to share about the Vegas trip, I've been withholding more current events. Like the great phone sex I had the night we came back; houseboy stuffed my mouth with his cock while my phone sex guy told me how much "Daddy" wants me to suck it. I came using my hitachi magic wand (vibrator) with houseboy jiggling the knob of his cock in my wet mouth. I haven't been doing enough private shows and phone sex . . . that little episode was a reminder of how fun and fulfilling it can be. Having houseboy around when I'm doing phone sex makes me feel extra shy and self-conscious -- but somehow the couple times it's happened I've wound up demanding he get in on the action. It's like having a very safe threesome and/or mixing up your fantasy with reality in the most sublime/surreal manner. The best part about it is that I'm the one getting paid to have the MOST stimulation (the auditory stimulation coming from my client AND the real life stimulation coming from houseboy and whatever other toys I rustle up).

Night before last houseboy took about 130 pictures of me (along with some self-timed shots of us together). I'm starting to feel a lot more comfortable "posing" for him. The best part about it is that he seems to enjoy it -- he totally motivates me to do the shoot and helps hook up the voyeurcams, move computer, lights, etc. around -- all those tedious things that are so time consuming.


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In sad news, since I moved from Tacoma I have been reading The Irish Think Tank's email every so often (it's amazing that a pathological liar feels safe telling everyone his hotmail password when he should realize that will give us the opportunity to more clearly see his inconsistent stories and lies). Now that he is no longer a threat to me it distressed me to find out he is homeless. He finally got kicked out of his apartment and everybody seems to be discovering that he's a soul-sucking opportunistic bad person. One person told him, "Its scavengers like you who leach off of caring hard working people AND think its OK ..that gave me the inspiration for my Scavenger series of seagull compositions".

On one hand I don't feel sorry that he's getting what he deserves. On the other hand I hate thinking about someone who is not completely evil and *does* have good qualities (fun, good sense of humour, when he *does* have money he's extremely generous with it) living on the streets in fucking cold rainy-ass January. I hope that this makes him a better person or that he just dies. Otherwise his destitution could make him even more of a liar and psycho.

Labels: friends, phone sex, PHOTOS, relationships, SEX, sex work, TURN ONS, webcam shows, work

posted by Trixie at 1/12/2003 11:02:00 AM - 0 comments - links to this post

 
I can't recall if I ever mentioned this before, but the guy I lost my virginity to when I was 18 is now a registered sex offender. My sister found this out a few years ago quite by chance by punching in the zip code of our small hometown into an online database of level 2 and 3 sex offenders. And there he was. Anyway, I never did find out exactly what he did (online it just says he's a level 2 sex offender and his crime was a "sexually motivated felony").

Well, last night my mom called to tell me that she saw a community notice posted at the fire station (don't ask me why my mom was hanging out at the fire station) warning residents of his move within our town. Why the fuck doesn't he get out of our town?? God! You'd think he'd move somewhere where nobody knows him. WHY has he chosen to reside in this small town for the past six years since his criminal activities? Now he is living up the road from my mom and dad and grandma and grandpa. Which is odd because the last time I drove up that road all the way to the end I had the distinct feeling he was there. Eerie.

Anyway, my mom didn't take the time to read the whole notice (I plan on reading it quite thoroughly when I go visit day after tomorrow) but apparently he was breaking into people's houses and climbing into bed with them. Apparently not raping them but hopping into bed and fondling them. A mother with her four year old son. An 11 year old kid. Who the fuck knows what else. . . .

Are my wierdo-detecting sensors messed up? I used to think he was just being melodramatic when he told me that he was a bad person and did really bad things. As far as I know he started doing this shit long after we were doing our thing together. Who knows, maybe I turned him into a freaky pervert?

There's a part of me that is shock-resistant. That doesn't believe that some people are "worse" than others and that we're *all* capable of doing amazingly crazy, bizarre and violent shit. With him it always seemed as though he were trying to *prove* he was a freak, not that he really was. He believed he was *so* different. I believed he was just obsessed with himself and his perceived differences to the point where he lost all perspective. I remember him telling me about his stepdad coming in and sitting on the bed while he was sleeping. Or *pretending* to sleep. And his stepdad stroking his thigh while he "slept". That's it. That's all. Gross, but apparently that is all the sexual violation he suffered. I then shared with him things that had happened to *me* that were more violating. Not to discount his experience with nastiness, but to just let him know I knew what it felt like.

I remember a year later the subject came up and he had absolutely no recollection that I'd told him I experienced anything like that. His mind was so completely absorbed with his *own* experiences he just had no room for thinking about anybody else. The fact that he seemed to be missing the ability to empathize with others -- that's the one time I recognized that he might indeed be different and bad. Well, I guess that and the time that he told me that he always felt like a million spiders were crawling all over him after we finished having sex.

Labels: memories, relationships, SEX, true crime

posted by Trixie at 9/25/2001 12:56:00 PM - 0 comments - links to this post