crowds.jpg

crowds.jpg
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

Stay too long at folsom and the crowds become a sea of bodies. Sure there is lots to see, but slim chance of getting near enough to. Here a fine young man is demonstrating his ability to make very large objects disappear in his ass. As you can see. The crowd really likes to watch.

Aproaching Folsom St.

Aproaching Folsom St.
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

They block off about 9 city blocks for the event. Come early and the streets are yours to walk comefortably and browse the vendors.

Da bears

Da bears
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

Alex asked. Shouldn't he have six more clamps on?

Tony Buff

Tony Buff
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

At the titan booth with my pal Tony and his boy

Catch 22?

Catch 22?
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

At the infamous Mr.S leather they have the `insertables room` Alex ponders his future carefully.

Highbrow entertainment

Highbrow entertainment
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

Alex and I entertain eachother on the flight by playing dirty hangman... I lost.

I'm goin back ta Cali

Test?
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

Up way too damned early for my tastes.

Things they don’t tell you when you become poly #9

If one of your partners is a morning person and your other partner is a night owl, what do you do if you want to spend quality time with both of them? Become a caffeine person.

Building a better mousetrap

Today is my last full day in the Abbey before heading south to SF and the debauchery that is the Folsom Street Fair. That of course means things are a wee bit on the wacky side here as I dash about getting ready and such. Of course, with Folsom also comes, in my opinion, the end of summer and the eventual rush to the holiday season.

Now here is the thing, every year we try to come up with cool some very cool gift items for the holiday. Right now we got something cool in the works, but the problem is I’m just not sure what the proper mix of things needed are. Here is what I want; I’m envisioning a gift that you might give your kink inclined partner or friend. Not someone who would normally go to play parties or shop at stores like Mr. S leather, but rather maybe this gift is something that you will give your lover in hopes of nudging your sex life down a more, shall we say, creative path. Not some lame feather and cinnamon dust gimmick in a cardboard box that you find at the linger shop in your local strip mall. Some cheap something made in china that you may use once (if you are lucky, or really bored) and then stuff in a closet, but rather something that will inspire customers to send me cookies next Christmas.

So, if you were to build a gift box of rope based kink and wanted to spend about 100 bucks, what would you have in your box? Feel free to add suggestions for other items, within reason of course (ya big bunch a perverts!)

Say, that post a caption thing was fun, lets to it again!

The last one seemed to result in some very strange, and funny responses. I have to tip my rope bag to Keith for his

Of his entire line of decorative toothpick accessories, Billy was proudest of one, He liked to call "The Squirrel Tail 9000".

Ping me off line Keith, I have something cool for ya.

So this week's challenge? One of my neighbors is a sculptor and has this outside his door. Leave a comment, make me laugh (or nod my head and go "hmm, insightful".

The best one gets some cool twistedmonk schwag as a prize.

That guy in the booth

Go to most events, kink or otherwise and you see him, tucked away in the vendor area, hiding behind their folding table like a morose troll under a bridge. Sitting there looking bored and more than just a wee bit desperate. As you walk past you stray away from his gaze and give only a cursory glace at the wares, save he take your feigned interest as an opening to latch onto you in a pathetic attempt to sell you something.

When I first started selling rope at public events I made a promise to myself, the day I became such a person was the day I quit.

I never wanted to resent having to come to an event. Little resentments build into a larger cancer that sucks the joy out of what you do. Customers can sense that and they will stay away from you in droves. I genuinely love my customers and am delighted when I get the chance to interact with them at events. Their love of the rope fuels my drive to work harder. Getting to hear their stories and share with them my latest color or rope find is the best pay check in the world. I never want to be that guy with his stock, piled forlornly on a table, just counting the hours till this event is over and he can go home.

No, I want my customers to know that when they come to see me it is an event, it is something to look forward to.

sure it does not always work out that way. Shows are exhausting, stressful events and I have been known to be a pretty grumpy Monk by the end. However these are all temporary things.

My greatest enemy, the thing that will eventually cripple and destroy all I have built is long term burn-out. The size and prosperity of my company is only limited by the amount of hours I choose to put in and how long I can stay in the game before my body wears out and my joy bleeds away into resentment. Thing is, It is not just my burn out that I must factor in these days either, the constant grind of the deathmarch also takes its toll on my crew and partners as well. If I intend to continue to do this for a long, long time (and I do) I need to be mindful of their burn rate as well.

Thankfully, after years of hard work, our customer base is astounding. We are finally at a point where we don’t have to attend every sales event just to make the rent. Rather we can pick and choose our events and make those appearances really count. We are talking big, memorable events where folks will remember the show.

So this year, when the call for vendors at the Folsom Street Fair was announced I had to really ponder my choice. I love the event, love the show but with a show in Boston the month before and a Christmas season that even in its earliest stages is already showing signs of being insanely busy I had to make the tough choice.

This year the TwistedMonk.Com show will not be coming to Folsom.

We all needed a break and frankly we have too much work here at the Abbey right now to even begin contemplating mounting a show worthy of our customers. Nope, this year we are going to sit this one out.

That is to say the company proper is sitting this one out. Me? I’m still coming down for the party. See, in the past 3 years of selling at the event, I have NEVER ventured any farther than the nearest porta-pottys. All the sights to be seen and I’ve not seen anything save what passed in front of my stage.

So this year, Monk will be a tourist at Folsom--Ready to take in the sights, explore the possibilities and not have to pick his profession over his passions. Who wants to get into some trouble?

Fear not, gentle reader, this does not mean that we will never be returning to the streets of SF in the future. In fact we are currently in negotiations for next year’s event.

Ever have one of those days...
when everything takes like 3 times as long as you planned for? That 20 minute wait turns into an hour, a 10 minute jaunt downtown becomes a gruling half hour in bumper to bumper traffic? Yeah, today is so one of those sorts a days.

On the plus side, I think I have located my outfit for Folsom.

Be afraid.

In the interests of fairness to yesterday's frivilous post (and that it is Sunday and I really don't feel like being all that insightful today) Here is another "motivational" poster. This one was made by Nerdy at last year's Folsom.

What about Folsom you ask? We shall talk about that tomorrow.

Sent to be by a (supposedly) vanilla vendor...

Back in the Saddle

“Lead with the left and brace the right” kept ringing in my brain as I climbed the ladder to inspect the hard point. Just shy of 6 weeks have past since the accident and this would be my first return to throwing a public rope scene. The grind last night was packed as we started to lay out the ropes and gear. Curious onlookers, eager for the spectacle, started to gather around the perimeter as well as a few concerned friends, their brows furrowed with a “should he be doing this yet?” look on their faces.

Should I? Good question. Truth be told I was probably more nervous than Alex as we stretched and centered ourselves. Its just rope you say, how hard can it be? Besides, you’re the top you are the one dealing out the damage, not the other way around, you are probably saying to yourself right now. No, dear readers not the case. Anyone who has seen my play knows that I am VERY physical when I play, throwing my partner about, using my mass and muscle to deliver an exhausting experience for us both.

My motto, It is not a good scene till I’m also drenched in sweat and panting.

Thing is, six weeks with no play. No rope running between fingers, six weeks of not getting to hear the exited yelp of my bottom as I pull their feet from underneath them and let them dangle, safely encased in my ropes. That is torture, dear readers. Sheer and pure hell.

And so, last night… After swearing to both my partners that I would be very mindful of my recently broken bone and reassuring my boy that at the moment my shoulder started to even begin to hint at being done, I would call the scene, I set out to have some fun with my favorite boy. Alex greedily took all the punishment I could deliver and like the little rock star he is, begged for more.

While my flow was a bit off, having to pause here and there to switch hands so my stronger, more flexible, left could tie off a line or to re-adjust the figure 8 brace so that it kept things solid and in place as I set about to devour my prey.

And devour I did.

At one point, as my sweet Alex hung from the ropes like some kinky marionette, limbs akimbo and legs bound open, clothing in tatters from my blade and howling in that mix of glee and terror that makes my heart sing with affection of the boy, and the jodhpurs of my now sweat soaked uniform uncomfortable with desire. I gave out a healthy roar of approval and laughed, “Having fun boy? Daddy sure as hell is!”

Eventually the shoulder (and Alex’s gasping form) would inform me that perhaps we had reached our limit for one night. Yes, the greedy side of me would have loved to keep going, but a promise is a promise. This morning, aside from the usual, damn I stayed up too late last night feeling, the shoulder feels great.

Lock up your daughters (and select sons) America, Monk is back in action.

Of the many lunch time destinations that lay near the Abbey, my favorite has to be The Georgetown Truckstop. Somehow managing to convert a one room switching station into a restaurant, they serve up some amazing comfort food from their postage stamped sized kitchen. Meatloaf made fresh everyday to baked goods that regularly derail even the best laid diet plans.
Yesterday for lunch I just had to have one of these:


In other news, the new color of the month is up:

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into your rope bag…

Nothing says fall like a good horror movie. Sitting in the darkened theater waiting eagerly for the filmmakers to take you on a thrill ride, ready for them to do their worst… I call it “cinematic bottoming”. Now you can’t have a good horror movie with out the inevitable sequel. So here we bring you, the return of one of our most popular colors. Back once again with a vengeance for those of you who missed it or just could not get enough of it the first time around.


The Return of the Son of the Vengeance of the Wrath of the Night of the Dawn of the PUMPKIN 2, the Quickening!

Mixed Mail Bag

I hope your shoulder's mending well and also that things are going well for you all around--work, life, etc. In all honesty, this email started off as an inquiry as to whether order processing has been affected, but I highly doubt it will make a difference on my end. Sad to say, I won't be able to see my girl until late October anyway and I can't believe it could possibly be anywhere near delayed that long. I'm just very impressed with the product line and can't wait to have it here.
-Derrick

The shoulder is progressing along just fine. With any luck the doc will let me take the damn thing off for good next week. So far I seem to have my full range of motion back and aside from some sore muscles complaining about having to work again for the first time in 5 weeks, no pain either. Still one must wait for the official blessing (and x-rays) to be sure, but so far so good. Now as for your order, have no fears. While I can't help you with your girl, I can re-assure you that your rope will be ready on time. The TwistedMonk.Com minions have been hard at work filling orders while I am on the mend. Sure, for the first week or so things were a bit frenetic as I spent most of my days in a drug induced fog, thankfully Nerdy (my long suffering and ever capable shop queen) has kept the machine running and orders flowing smoothly out the door. Ironically, one of my mantras this year has been “delegate or die” and being laid up, unable to lift kettles or whip rope for the for past few weeks has been a great re-enforcer of that lesson.

What is the “Fabulously gay disco radio station” you always refer to?
-Alexr

That would be C89.5, a station run by a local high school. Staffed entirely by students the station has been on the air for like a million years it is quite possibly the best way to avoid getting road rage in Seattle’s ever worsening traffic. My personal favorite is their Thursday morning tribute to all things retro, Save the Wave. Makes me want to wear eye liner and play the keytar.

Hi Twisted Monk,
although I am not a current client, I was hoping that you could point me in a good direction for conditioning raw hemp.

I have searched it and found several techniques, but was looking for your opinion on the best way.

Thank you,
Jake

If you are asking what method I use in my shop to finish the rope I sell to make my living and pay the wages of my employees. Sorry, that would be a trade secret, a process created after years of testing, tens of thousands of dollars of custom built equipment, production agreements with hemp producers in 4 different countries and countless hours of refinement.
That said, I do think everyone should at least try and condition their own rope. My advice would be to consult Mistress Google and find a method that works for you. The first recipe I ever tried was the “wet method” outlined in Midori’s book, “The Seductive Art of Japanese Rope Bondage”, so it holds a dear place in my heart. Know that the process is long and labor intensive and your house may smell awful for a few days.


Monk,
Love, love, LOVE the videos. Did I mention I loved them? I do! When will see more of them?
Anxious,
-Reba

Wow, delighted that they have been so well received. In fact we are all sort a stunned by the response. Did you know that the basic hogtie video has been seen over 75 thousand times on youtube since we posted it? DAYM! Rest easy, we have more in the pipe. The busted collar bone threw a kink in our filming plans, but yes there will be more before the year’s end. Stay tuned. That said if you have any requests for short instructional topics, no I won’t do a suspension how to so don’t ask, we would love to hear from you.

Family Matters

Posts might be a bit thin this week as I am ass deep in the mother in law. Ah, the mom, now there is something they don’t tell you when you become poly. Over the next two weeks I will be on duty with three moms. For every additional person who calls you “partner” (or lover, or daddy or “my protein powered space heater”) you now have one more mom that needs to be charmed and generally reassured that their child is in fact not conspiring with a serial killer.
Good thing moms tend to like me, call it my special ability I guess.

Thankfully Tambo’s mom, AKA The Mom, is pretty damned awesome. She seems to have taken to our whole non-traditional family structure pretty well. Then again she is the person who pretty much inspired this whole rope company to begin with. She even has gone as far as to bring presents for her “grandchildren”, Alex and Nerdy. Sadly I wish my own family as accepting. Poly is hard for parents to wrap their head around, wanting their children to be safe and well cared, this sort of thing does not really fall into their expectations. My mom, after nearly 4 years still refers to my other partner only as, “that other woman”. My father? Well we have not spoken a civil word in years due to who I choose to love.

So it means a lot to me when I can put on a good showing for a partner’s parent. To help put them at a bit more ease as they put a face to this idea of their child having a non-traditional relationship. That they have someone who, while they might not fit in the traditional definitions of “husband”, “lover” or even “boyfriend”, that they are loved and cherished.

In the meantime, take a read of my sexy friend RedSneaker's account of coming to visit my shop for the first time and getting tied up.

Smuggly Delighted With Life
Pardon me while I just pause for a moment and revel in how lucky I am. I am loved by some pretty damed amazing people and getting to share my life with them is an adventure.

Driving into work this morning I remembered why I want to punch Patrick Swazye in the crotch.

It was just before I pulled into the local cupcake boutique, one must keep the minion properly bribed ya know, when it came back to me. The need to smack that guy right in the junk. See, anyone who has ever had the misfortune of being a passenger in my car will tell you I have 3 stations that I listen to on my radio, the alt rock station, the agro-metal station and the “Oh sweet Jesus I am so flamingly gay disco station”. Heaven help you if you dare switch my radio to NPR, I once killed a man for less.

This morning’s road soundtrack was 80’s dance music. Old wave, as it were. Having worked in a record store back in the late 80’s I have a very soft spot for the likes of New Order, Susie Sioux, Yaz and the rest of that crowd. Being a record store we were of course supposed to play the new records. The store was divided into two main musical camps. Those who thought we must cater to the mall friendly sounds of Debbie Gibson, Tiffany and that musical scourge… the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack (and it’s red headed step child, “More Dirty Dancing”) and the rest of us who would rather try and slit our wrists with a broken shards of “Tainted Love” (the extended mix of course).

We tried to sneak in New Order’s Blue Monday in between the near constant rotation of leg warmer re-enforced sugar coated pop drivel. To this day I still can still quote the lyrics to Tiffany’s break out single, “I think we’re alone now”, seeing as how the damn thing was seared into my brain after being forced to listen to it countless times. I can barely remember the date of my anniversary but I can still recite the track listing for that damned movie soundtrack… oh how I hate that man.

Thankfully, Tiffany is now doing shows at the local Indian casino and Patrick Swazye has been shuffled off to pitch products on late night TV while those gems of keyboard driven dance pop, with their big hair, eye liner and morbid sense of humor still have a home on the radio.

Make me laugh, win a prize


As I have written before, my shop (aka the Abbey) is nested amongst the industrial wastelands of south Seattle. Surrounded by train tracks and steel mills we are always prone to random acts of public art. While most tagging and graffiti is saved for the train cars that lumber past the big windows of the shop, recently the bridge supports that border us have become targets for a decal artist. Life size images of wildlife stuck to the dingy grey pillars makes for a pretty surreal drive into work some days.

This one graces the supports just outside our doors.


I just begs for a caption, doesn’t it? So here goes. If you think you have a funny enough one, leave it in the comments and I’ll reward the one I like best with some TwistedMonk.Com schwag.

Deal?

Reader Porn!
Sophia, a wicked darling of a girl, just sent along a little something to help “inspire” me during my recovery period. In her own words: “I spent almost three hours whipping rope ends on Tuesday. I now have enough rope to suspend someone. (Borrowing rope will only do when you are at the very beginning stages of learning.)
I can't help but wonder if working for Monk would be anything like this?”



And folks wonder why her name is on the short list of folks I’m planning on doing something terrible to as soon as I get out of this damned sling?

Now while I do also happen to have a cage in my office that has housed many a naked girl, but never a naked girl whipping the ends of rope. Hmm, perhaps I should re-think my production strategy in this arena. Lord knows that we always seem to be behind in the whipping department. I wonder what OSHA would have to say about this? As long as she was wearing protective footwear I think we may be ok.

In all seriousness, if you like the shot you may want to check out more photography by Sophia’s Daddy, . He has a show coming up in Seattle soon.

Mark Your Calendars!

Max is teaching his amazing Fundamentals of Rope Bondage (aka ROPE101)
Sunday September 30th, 2007
3:00 PM to 6:00 PM
At the Center for Sex Positive Culture (CSPC)in Seattle

My first rope class was one of Max's, I've sold rope at almost every class he has taught since then and even 4 years later I'm still learning new tricks from the guy. Yes, he is that good. If you are curious about rope and looking to get started, don't miss this class.

I was just sent this link, a handmade postcard that reminded the sender of me. Hmm, a tied up arm?

I wonder why? *Laugh* The funny thing is that this is pretty close to what happened.

After the accident, as I lay propped up against a telephone pole swearing my brains out, I needed to figure out how to get my broken ass up and into Tambo’s car so that we could make the jaunt to the ER. Any movment of said arm was rewarded with bright, bone splintering jolts of pain. WHat to do? I could not lay here forever, I was running out of good swears too. As luck would have it, in the pocket of my leather jacket was a 10ft piece of crimson hemp rope. Now what was I doing with a spare piece of rope in my riding jacket on a Sunday afternoon? Well that dear readers is another story, suffice to say that I quickly put my use of bondage and basic first aid to good use.

Looping the rope first around the wrist and then around my neck, I then wrapped it around the outside of the damaged arm to immobilize it against my body and tied it off. (Remember, even when doing one handed triage bondage always "Cinch with Gusto!" ). And there, arm wrapped in bondage rope, I went to the ER.

On the mend

My collar bone is on the mend and looking better every day, thanks to everyone who have sent me cards, e-mails, hugs and to that special someone who has discovered my weakness for good whiskey and fine chocolates… darlin you are in for one hell of a treat. The shoulder is on the mend, seems like every day I’m gaining more and more movement. I must be driving my partners nuts. Well more than usual, here is a typical exchange.
Exited Monk: “LOOK! LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!!!”
Slightly confused long suffering lover: “what, all you are doing is brushing your teeth?”
Monk: “I know, but look closer…. I’m using my RIGHT HAND!”
Astounded, long suffering lover: “Wait a sec, you could not do that yesterday?”
Monk: ”I could not do that this MORNING!”

While I seem to have been blessed with the ability to heal at a slightly faster rate than most, these things still take time. Sure I wish I could rip off this damn brace and just be done with things, but that is not the case. 3 more weeks, and a few more doctor consults, before I can resume my regularly crazy life.

I will confess to you this; the thing that is driving me nuts is not the pain of a still knitting bone or the soreness from constantly having to wear this damned brace. No, what is driving me nuts is not getting to sling rope now for three weeks. This whole not getting to play for three weeks and the prospect of at least another three before I can safely wrap rope around someone I love and dangle them from the ceiling has me just plain old put out. I know that I will very soon be back in the swing of things, heck we are already on the downhill side of things. Still I feel like a junkie in need of his fix. My rope bag sits forlorn, unused since the night before the accident. Just watching others play with rope makes my palms itch with anticipation of when it will be my turn again.

Patience Monk, rest. Recover, regain the lost strength in your shoulder and then, when they give you the green light, hit that hard point with a vengeance.