Thursday, March 25, 2010

"Dude, what in the hell are you thinking?!"

That is what normally goes through my brain first when I find myself in situations like this. Me, half naked, dressed in frilly girl panties and a camisole, as I strut across an abandoned NYC alley on a sunny Saturday morning. A few tourists cast quick, confused glances before speeding up their pace and the one cop I saw looked once, shrugged and went back to drinking his coffee as the photographer kept snapping away.

Yep, just another day in the big city.

So you, and most sane people, are asking me. Just what the hell prompted me to do drag in NYC? Some statement about gender? Maybe the tiara is a subtle slam on European pseudo royalty? Nope, nothing that well planned out really. Truth be told this whole idea was hatched, as many of my best ones are often, after a couple of very strong Manhattans and in the company of a pretty girl.

Why not make a photo that is just a polar opposite of the whole "well dressed male courtesan Monk"?

Something so ironic that it ends up being more than just a "ha, ha big straight guy in drag". I mean, fem drag is so not my kink. I've said before, gender bending ala Tim Curry in Rocky Horror? Hawt. Me in full drag? Nope, I just can't get into looking like a bearded Mrs. Doubtfire.

I am still sifting through proofs to find the ultimate gender-bender shot that sums up the masculine joy I had that morning, swaggering along with a cigar in one hand as I polished off a bottle of cheap bourbon.

Stay tuned.

*all shots by the awesome Eleizabeth Raab. If you are in NYC you should check her out.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Miss me?
Been a crazy, busy couple of weeked. What with travel and taxes, also I think they "a" key on my lptop keyboard is fried, making blogging a tad more interesting than I enjoy. *And by interesting I mean annoying as fuck!
But fear not, I have not been sitting idle. Nope, thanks to the power that is Matisse (and for those who have seen her in a slinky dress will tell you, that is a pretty powerful thing) I bring you another one of our podcasts.

Be warned, this podcast contains poetry, William Shatner impersonations AND a pokemon reference too.


Thursday, March 04, 2010

Rope tops, an experiment for you to try

Ok rope tops, I have a challenge for you. Go grab your favorite rope bottom, a hunk of your favorite rope, and practice doing a basic chest harness like the one I demo here.

Got it? What was it like" Ask your bottom how she felt about the experience.

Now try this, take a caribeiner (or short hunk of rope) and loop one end though the back belt loop of your bottom and the other through the front of yours. You should now be tethered about 4-6 inches from your partner.

Tie the harness again.

What changed? While the most obvious observation will be that tethered like this you have less room to move and navigate around the bottom. This may seem frustrating, however ask the bottom what changed for her (or him) I think you will be surpized.

Rope is all about connection, the strands of hemp are an extension of your want for the other, wrapping them, protecting, taking them on a trip with you.

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Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Ever wake up hungry?

That gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach for something more than food. Like an itch you just cant seem to scratch, that need to sink your claws into the tender, warm skin of someone. Maybe it is just me, but play is not a "cerebral" thing for me. An event you can intellectualize and examine under a microscope, but rather a visceral, animal experience for me. So it seems that when the hunger comes it too is like that, not a "gee, I think I'd like to do some rope bondage this week, let me check my schedule" but more like a bristling energy just beneath my skin, like the cursed man just as he catches the first glimpse of the full moon... knowing the beast will soon come.

Most days, the hunger is like a low level static, always there. Often spiking when in the presence of one who draws it out. Could be a look or the way they smell, or perhaps it is the presence of their own inner beast, no matter. Most days I can keep it in check and tap into it when the time is right. However this last week, this last week is different. It distracts me, I've sat down and discarded a dozen blog posts, left emails unanswered and paced countless steps cross my office floor... distracted by the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. The buzz now a constant, guttural growl lurking just behind my eyes. That involuntary flexing of my claws of no reason other than it feels good when the muscles in my forearms are drawn taught.

It is not for lack of trying, this persistent hunger, seems my time in the dungeon, while satisfying in the moment, only leaves me hungrier.

My beast needs to feed, soon