Saturday, May 2, 2009

moved back to tribe - ttfn

after a few months over here on blogger, i moved back over to tribe.

you can find me by searching my name: kinnari

thanks to the few kind folks who made comments here (and also to those porn star wannabes who posted their links here only to have them removed before they ever saw the light of day - in that brief moment when i saw that you, pussylicker2000, had a comment for me i thought you might be real. and those few minutes were worth something now weren't they?)

see you on tribe.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Celebrants at inaugural concert

i love this picture!!!!!!!!!!!

finallly, a celebration at the capitol that looks like our REAL america looks!

not just white corpies in suits!

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

banana split

he bound my wrists in the new purple fuzzy restraints we got in a seedy head shop on telegraph. he covered my eyes with the purple and black velvet blindfolds.

he spread my legs and i heard a "pop" as he opened the whipped cream and chocolate sauce. i felt a cold liquid on my nipples and then his warm tongue as he slurped up the chocolate and cream. then he kissed me with his mouth full of sweetness.

he kept this up all over my breast, chest, clit and pussy lips, tormenting me with his tongue, till i was bucking up to reach his mouth and crying out for more.

he tongue fucked me, reaching his mouth way up inside me and plunging back and forth as if he had his cock inside me. i was about mad with pleasure.

he peeled a banana and shoved it up my pussy when i begged him to fuck me. it felt so good, so naughty, so perverted, so right.

it was hard and soft at the same time, just like his cock is.

he licked and sucked on my clit as he pushed the banana in and out, in and out. i arched up to reach his tongue and moaned, begging him not to stop. "you're making me come, baby. oh please, baby, please...."

he reached in and sucked the banana out of my stuffed pussy. then, with his mouth covered in chocolate and cream, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me with the banana that had just been in my cunt. now that was dirty and raunchy and so wrong!

and i loved it. i loved every minute of it!

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Snow Day, Nevada City, California

we got more snow last night!

covered over my footsteps from my virgin snow hike yesterday.

i made snow angels and went sledding!!!!!!!

so much fun!

Deer Creek, Snow, Nevada City, California

and this is what it looks like now but with more snow!

Snow Town....aka Nevada City

i love this!!!!!!!!

Sunday, November 23, 2008

slowing down (in the gold country) part 3

i listened to a handsome turkish man in a western suit read sufi poetry this morning in his native language. then in english.

it was truly moving and beautiful.

he's a prof at uc davis. and he was visiting our little unitarian church in the gold country for a service about the gulan movement. fethllulah gulan is known and loved the world over and won the foreign policy magazine peacemaker award and yet we here in the west know nothing of him.

the speaker this morning decided to correct that.

she had visited turkey with a group of 20 other volunteers as part of an interfaith cultural exchange. they stayed with sufi practitioners, in homes of those who embrace moderate islam. they were there for a dialog on western perceptions of the moslem faith.

she was a striking older woman with beautiful silver hair, wrapped in a gray and gold pashmina, who spoke with such passion and tenderness about the turks she'd come to know.

interfaith dialog.

that's what mlk was imagining for our future in his "i have a dream" speech. he painted a picture of a world where "protestant and catholic" (a specific reference to the WASPy prejudice against JFK) and "black and white" get along.

this morning we sang a rumi song and held hands and swayed. we listened to a duet play hauntingly beautiful sufi music on exotic looking instruments.

it was truly wonderful to hear this message of peace and respect for diversity in this small town!

in the south, small towns are associated with poverty, ignorance, intolerance, and racism.

i hadn't realized how much that shaped my view of traveling in rural areas. i always assume it will be like that and am so pleasantly surprised when i'm wrong.

felt so right to sing rumi:

"come, come, whoever you are..

wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.

ours is no caravan of despair.

come, yet again, come."

slowing down (in the gold country) part 2

i joined the choir at the little unitarian church up here in the mountains.

i've been visiting here for 2 years now, catsitting for my colleagues who live in a gorgeous cohousing development.

while they travel the world about 4 times a year, i get to have this lovely new 3 bedroom condo all to myself so i feel like i have a second vacation home in the woods and that's a pretty special treat!

i get to experience all the pleasures of the four seasons; each day i walk the wild and scenic river or some small unnamed creek, or some winding country road or around some old gold mine diggings. i walk and walk among old growth forest and new. ancient trees, shooting way up high for miles around me. tonight i did yoga under the trees, outside, facing the mountains while i watched the sunset. the sky changed from pinkish yellow and violet to smoky purple and vivid orange.

i could smell fire and see the smoke from a controlled burn in the woods not far away. it is a delicious smell.

one thing i loved about the ashram is that each night, i'd build a fire in the ginormous room they assigned me. (i was the only one in the women's dorm room, a former huge master bedroom.)

each night, i followed the ritual the didi (yogic nun) taught me, and which reminded me of how my father taught me to build a fire.

first you must sweep up last night's ashes. then roll up the newspapers for the first layer. then you gather twigs and place those on top. then you strike a match and light the edges. and you wait. you wait to see if this fire will take off.

it's always astounding to me how you can sometimes have everything flammable, have plenty of oxygen, and a definite source of fuel - a big stack of wood for christ's sake, and sometimes, sometimes, you just can't get that sucker to burn.

that seems to funny to me. how you can have everything right there, all ready and you DESIRE it to burn. but it won't catch. it just sparks a bit and then fizzles.

and then, against all desire, a stranger can start a whole forest burning with a single carelessly tossed cigarette.

so life burns sometimes where you least want it to and it fails to catch fire where you most want it to.

life is just like that!

today i toured an old mine. they always depress the hell out of me. the disparity of the owners and miners lives, their history of child labor, of union oppression, of murder, lying, deceit, manipulation, greed, and poisoning the environment - just so disheartening.

the local paper is full letters to the editor and articles on the current controversy over reopening a mine in this area.

my grandfather was a coal miner. my great uncle discovered coal on the many thousands of acres he inherited from my great great grandfather. uncle willy was the first born SON, though my grandmother was the first born of 11 children. she had no rights of inheritance since she was a girl - it all went to her brother so she ended up a sharecropper on "his" land. and her husband, my grandfather, went down into the mines and worked each day to make a pittance. he got black lung for his trouble. but he kept food on the table through the depression and put his two kids through college even though he'd only gone to school till the third grade.

so i love to tour mines and think about my ancestors. my cousins are very wealthy from the fortune their's made on coal. but i like my grandmother's legacy better. she was a farmer, a mom-and-pop general store owner, and the best oral historian of appalachian ways. i could sit and listen to her stories for hours on end. tales of saving her siblings from bobcats and snakes, of squeaking by through long hard winters, of how to properly can a tomato or how to slop the hogs or how to collect the egg from under the hen. where to find the best blackberries.

i loved to watch my grandfather with his animals. he really loved his bulls and cows. he adored his horses. he got a small check from the government each month - a payment for the hazardous health conditions from being a miner. he'd laugh ironically each time he opened it. i don't think it was for more than 15 dollars.

what price do you put on a man's lungs?

i told the park ranger today about my grandfather's black lung. she said the miners here in norcal got "white lung" due to the gold being buried inside quartz.

i walked down, down, down inside the earth today. down the stairs constructed for tourists to see where miners descended every day of their lives to work for a few dollars from sunup to long after sun down.

it was suffocating. it was frightening. it was dangerous.

wow, my life is sooooooooooooo easy compared to that.

i breathed in especially deep when i got back up.

i walked and walked among the old mining buildings and forested paths and tried to imagine what life was like back then. no one but white men allowed to work at the mines. no life for women outside the home.

the owners of the diggings lived in a huge mansion right by the mine. gloriously landscaped gardens, a sportsmen's club for the mining elite and those they needed to entertain (read: bribe): local politicians, bankers, a visiting president. (herbert hoover was an expert on mining.)

there was a big bible on the expensively carved 19th century table in the owner's mansion.

the pictures of the miners show how poor they were. hard working immigrants, covered in dusty tattered work clothes, roughed up boots, smiles with missing teeth, some of them still children or barely teens.

i wondered again for the thousandth time: how did we end up with such an exploitive capitalism in this country? why didn't we revolt?

howard zinn documents it well: the constant fights against the working man and woman, the threats to labor organizers and union members.

and now they want to reopen a mine.

much of the goldmine state park i toured today was off limits due to the lingering toxicity of the soil, water and air. many trails were closed due to "known carcinogens" including arsenic, lead, mercury.

i thought about the letter to the editor i'd read from a local united methodist minister. she was offering a counter opinion to the many "pro-mine pro-jobs" letters which the paper had published.

she said the real gold was in the beauty of nature here. and we mustn't let renewed greed spoil that.

as i walked under huge maples, on a carpet of yellow leaves, and watched the golden sun set, i had to agree with her.

i hope the environmentalists win. i hope the shortsighted "jobs at any cost" crowd loses.

i hope mother nature wins this round.

slowing down (in the gold country)

i'm in the gold country for the holidays.

i've been purposely slowing my life down. i've been so whirlwind busy: traveling for months, figuring out housing (moving out, moving in), getting adjusted to new housemates, reconnecting with my lover and friends from the bay area, and then packing everything up again to take off for the gold country.
i'm up here for almost 2 months. been here 2 weeks now.

i've been doing consulting work for an ashram up here. (not ananda village which i visited and wrote about this summer - i would NEVER work for them. i just found out the founding guru is a convicted sexual predator and a financial fraud.)

i lived at the ashram for a week while i got to know them as an organization. they follow p. r. sarkar, a renaissance man/guru, who was a prolific writer.

they found out about me after i wrote another ashram in the bay area, which was listed in the WWOOF directory, and contacted me to do some work for them.

it was not easy being there, far away from the excitement of the big city and from the basic pleasures to which i've become accustomed. but i came away with a lot more insight about yogic philosophy, PROUT economic theory, vegetarian sentient yoga diets, and the didis (e.g. nuns - the word means "sisters") and dadas (brothers or monks) who live the monastic life.

i summed it up this way in a post i made to my burner camp listserv:

"i must say that after a week at an ashram where the yogic nuns remain
celibate, do not watch tv or have working internet, avoid chocolate, eggs and
meat, my first impulse was to have wild sex with the first kinky
passerby i found, eat gobs of pastrami, fry my breakfast sunny side
up, and consume mass amounts of ghirardelli. i accomplished most of
it within the first 24 hours.

still looking for that kinky stranger though...."

oh and i forgot to add "watch internet porn." i'm just soooooooooooo not an ascetic!

and i honestly feel sorry for people who are. i wish i could shed my judgmental ways, but after reading about their diet and following it for a week, i wondered: how can some religious leader declare mushrooms, garlic and chocolate a sin????? wtf?????? didn't whatever creator/life force/god/dess you believe in give us these wonderful treats????

i don't get that and i don't think i ever will.

i did not make a good ashram guru follower. i tried to join in to the worship services a couple of nights but chanting while facing a picture of a man just doesn't do it for this feminist. they were good hearted, compassionate, hard workers. the leader played guitar and sang and led us in meditation each night. but i just found no inspiration in it, unlike what i've felt at buddhist temples, or pagan rituals.

they had an odd custom which struck me as very funny. they'd cook up a delicious dinner, indian ayurvedic or chinese inspired dishes (the nuns were from malaysia and taiwan) - often with vegetables from their garden and always with exotic spices. the smell would be so enticing and it would be all hot and ready to be eaten; then they'd let it sit there while they left the kichen to go chant and meditate, letting the food get cold. perhaps they only did that while i was there; they are in a very isolated rural community so they cooked each meal for me. but i found that very strange. perhaps a ritual of self denial? a practice of delayed gratification?

i was absolutely thrilled to leave the ashram. after living a life of christian service and always putting myself last as my fundamentalist religion proscribed for women, i'm just not interested in committing any more time to delaying my gratification. i've been seizing life by the collar and dancing till dawn and grabbing all the gusto i could get for 2 years and it suits me!

i do balance my hedonism with buddhism, goddess worship, pagan ritual, and an occasional dose of eckart tolle or some other new age writer. and i find that very meaningful.

but i found myself pitying these nuns. they seemed quite unhappy. behind their smiles and courtesy, they seemed so negative and frustrated with their work most of the time. my heart just ached for one of them; she told me she'd spent months and months nurturing lambs on the small farm there only to have them eaten by a mountain lion - on her birthday.

i longed to share with them my path of following pleasure - of hedonism - but felt that would have been very arrogant so i remained silent except to cheer them on for the work they'd done.

which is pretty amazing: in a primarily white, christian fundamentalist rural county, they've managed to create many outreach programs and educate the community on indian philosophy. that's no small feat. plus, they have a beautiful river reclamation project there and they've recruited many local environmentalists to work with them.

they are busy making their corner of the world a little more non-violent, a little kinder to the animals, a little more healthy. there's a lot to be said for that.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

madonna! "you gotta give it a HOP! tick tock tick tock tick tock!!!!"

oh my god! after my meltdown we had the best time! my lover had bought us madonna tickets months before it sold out.

so we left the halloween party after my nap (only to return later that night) and had a blast watching madonna rock her 52 year old ass off!

she's really just amazing!

i don't care if you hate her or her politics or her music or her fluid gender identity or her kinky sexuality or even her kiss with britney: GO SEE HER LIVE SHOW!!!!!!!!!

really, it doesn't matter what you think of her, you will come away astounded!

that woman can dance for 2 and a half hours, sing straight through 20 songs, get the crowd to chant OBAMA for five long minutes, and rock your little world whether you are a middle aged overweight office worker (like the women sitting next to me) or you're a teenager newly discovering "like a virgin!"

seriously, it doesn't matter what you have to pay, go see her if she comes to your town!!!!!!!! drive or fly a thousand miles if she doesn't. it's worth it!!!!!!

she's one of the best paid performers in the biz so she has the most baubles to play with. the best sound engineers, the best video artists, the best back up dancers.

it was like the best live vegas floor show combined with the video music awards combined with ten or a dozen of the best modern dance performances you've ever seen!!!!!

really, just astounding level of entertainment. she really blew me out of the water. i was on my feet dancing and screaming her name and singing the choruses out loud (with the other 50,000 fans) from the nose-bleed section the whole time!!!!!

wow! i'm still just blown away thinking about her and what she's able to do with her little bitchy, dead mother syndrome, catholic messed up childhood, angry father bashing self! she's just so goddamn kick ass!!!!!

she really is one of a kind and she's really changed music, and how we view female performers, and what we think of sex, religion, and rock and roll, forever!

my lover loves her so much that he cried through much of her performance.

his favorite song is "la isla bonita." and i hugged him while he sang along in his beautiful off key, out of beat, persian accented voice. i really just adore him. i can't help it.

it's little things like watching him watch madonna that make me love him so much. he just lights up from within. and he waxes poetic when he talks of how she's changed the world with her music!

on our "day of the feast of all senses" (a holiday for two that we just made up for ourselves), we used to lay in bed after fucking each other silly and listen to her videos and sing and dance along.

and he loves to listen to her lyrics about god and spirituality and obama. it really inspires him.

she belongs to the world and my lover is a world citizen, born in a capital city with 10 million people in the middle east, schooled in italy and canada, and well-traveled in costa rico, indonesia, brazil and countless other places.

i love him and i love madonna.

(and i looooooooooooooooooooooove justin timberlake! good ole tennessee boy! make me wanna dance and hollah!!!!!!)

halloween extravaganza part II

that night after a nice fuck in the hottub with my lover (and another man who helped me live out my dream of dp - just with a finger though, not a dick!), i barely slept! the partyers had been invited to stay over but we didn't realize it was only the inner circle who actually would take them up on it! the rain forced those in tents on the lawn to come indoors so there was almost no place to sleep!

turns out my lover had been to a million parties with most of the inner circle anyway so we made ourselves at home. (i never felt really comfortable, and later i found out he didn't either.) we camped out in the living room on the floor while the host's friends had sex, or snored, or got high, or shared loud drunken stories all around us.

we fucked a little more in our sleeping bags and it felt really good. it had been hard to "get a good purchase" (as he likes to say) in the hottub; we'd slipped and slid all round each other and not fully orgasmed.

after making love, we fell sound asleep for a few hours; i was shocked i could rest with that much going on around me! but i'd come prepared with ear plugs, and sleeping pills.

now even on a good night, i need about 9 hours to feel fully human. and my body is very particular; ever since my health began to decline 16 years ago, i've needed to go to bed before 11 pm or i feel like shit the next day. (this isn't to say i usually do this. since i'm a night owl and love to blog or read till 1 or 1 am, i wake up a lot of days and feel like absolute crap!)

at burning man, i taught my body to party all night and sleep all day, something i'd NEVER done in my whole life. (remember, i was a "good girl" all through high school and college!)

but after getting only a few hours sleep from about 5 am-ish till 8 am-ish, i was just not hitting on all cylinders the next day at that party.

we were awakened by friendly folks in full halloween costumes making scrambled eggs and serving kahlua and cream with coffee, the good kind.

i ate sooooooooo much! i was starving! partying all night wears me out and makes me hungry even though i still don't do ANY drugs, even pot.

we ate like pigs, like burners actually! you know that feeling when you wake up on the playa (after a night of walking miles and miles to 10 different parties and dancing your ass off till dawn) when someone's cooking breakfast and you can smell the bacon from your tent, your jiz spattered, dust covered, day old feet smelling tent! yes, that's the feeling i had that morning in marin! your brain screams, "BACON!!!! BACON, NOW! I CAN EAT A POUND OF IT!!!! MORE, MORE, MORE BACON!!!!!"

and i did! i ate my weight in bacon. there were no carbs to be found, (or even forks or spoons or coffee mugs,) but by god there was bacon! and i ate my eggs with my hands like a good camper!

we flirted with strangers, chatted with friends of my lover; it was all very surreal cuz the house was still decorated for halloween on nov. 1 and the guests were in their costumes leftover from the night before. the mantle over the fireplace (where we ate with our fingers, in the dining nook off the kitchen) was covered in skulls. rat skulls, cayman skulls, snake skeletons. i began to feel a little disembodied, like i would soon wake from this strange dream.

my lover and i got into a little spat over him flirting with too, too, too many women without introducing me properly. (we're in an open relationship and he's only my "secondary" - he has a wife and i have a boyfriend, but hey, you can be polite or rude!!! and in my book, he was very rude.)

finally by the afternoon, all the anonymous sex, and the flirting he was doing, and the aggressive guys who were constantly hitting on me for no good reason, and the kahlua that hit my teetotaller brain quite hard and the sleep deprivation.......... i had HAD it! i wanted to GO HOME!!!!

i just couldn't face another 24 hours of hard partying with people who never met a drug they didn't like! and never heard a story they couldn't retell a thousand times drunk!

yes, these were fascinating people that i'd never have access to in the south: globetrotters with houses in bali, world class writers and artists and musicians. but I WAS TIRED OF THEM!!!!!!

tired of them and their free love and sex and debauchery. tired of smelling other people's cum. tired of watching the disparity between the host, who felt free to hit on anyone, and his wife, who was cleaning the house frantically and seemed so stressed out, worried about a thousand party details, and distraught at having that many people under foot in her sanctuary. (i didn't blame her and began to wonder whose idea it was to have the party!)

after a huge fight, during which i called my lover every name in the book, he refused to take me home and i discovered i was too broke for a cab. there is NOOOOOOOOO good public transportation in that part of marin so i was stuck. i threw a shitfit!

i confessed that i'd fallen in love with my married lover and that i didn't think i could do an open relationship with him. i confessed that i had a double standard. that i wanted to be able to flirt with and fuck any man woman or transperson i found attractive but that i wanted him to be celibate.

i confessed that i didn't want to be a free loving woman, that it made me feel slutty and that i wanted to go home, eat my mama's cooking, vote republican, get married, live behind a white picket fence and be buried near my ancestors like a good southern girl would do!

oh dear sweet lord jeebus, what had i become!

well, that set us to laughing! the fact that i could confess to all this complexity inside me. that sometimes i don't feel at all like the openly sexual being, the LGBTIQQ activist, the progressive person i've become. sometimes under stress, i want to revert to my fundamentalist values for safety's sake.

wow! what a revelation!

so, i asked my lover to hold me while i took a nap.

and he did just that.

i know he's not going to leave his wife. i know i don't actually want to live with him. i know i'm not going to give up my freedom to cater to a man ever again in this lifetime or the next!!!!

but it felt good to get my feelings all out there; even the scary ones of wanting to own my lover. even how scary it feels to take responsiblity for all my sexual choices. even the ones i now regret.

so he held me and i fell asleep on his chest on the sofa on the back patio by the heated pool, under the veranda while the partyers laughed above us.

and it felt good.

hallowed moon

i'm so tired i can hardly keep my eyes open and it's only 8 pm. the transition to the fall time clock always takes me some getting used to.

but i just saw the prettiest sight AND i just talked to one of my best friends for the first time in 33 years, so i have to write or i won't be able to sleep.

i ate dinner at a chinese restaurant in the small gold country town where i'm staying for the next 2 months. there are a few chinese americans who still live here, descendants of railroad workers, launderers, cooks, and miners from the gold rush era. (becoming manual laborers was the only way chinese people could emigrate back in the day and they were prohibited from owning land, from marrying, from even holding on to their gold claims if they were lucky enough to find any.)

i'm walking everywhere since i no longer have a car. i love walking, even at night! it really forces me to interact with nature. this town is really safe. (the local newspaper's police blotter reads like this: "homeowner at 5235 willow street called about the dog barking loudly and a suspicious character at the house next door. the person was identified by officer as the electric repairman at 5234 willow street." seriously, EVERY day they report incidents like that! it cracks me up!)

so tonight after talking to my friend forever on the phone i got to walk home under a full moon! the sierra nevada mountains were peeking over the top of the little shops "downtown." (pop. 3000) the beautiful pines, firs, maples and even some redwoods were outlined in silver, with the mooonglow also highlighting the few clouds that floated by high above. the victorian homes and the white church steeple were lit up by tiny white lights. it's really picture postcard perfect here!

connecting with an old friend after so long is really amazing! we talked on the phone, she from chicago, all through dinner. we had been very close in junior high, attending the same school and living just a few streets apart. we did everything together for a couple of years and i adored her! she was spunky and funny; smart and cool and self assured. her mom was gorgeous and her dad was handsome, if intimidatingly intellectual. and we had great adventures together. she remembered so many funny things we did!

but the first thing she reminded me of was that, about 3 years into our friendship, my parents had forbidden me to see her when her sister was busted for pot. i had totally forgotten that.

there we were, still little girls really - i hadn't even hit puberty yet (though i lied about it). and i complied with my parents who had a shitfit that her sister was "on drugs!" my parents treated her like a pariah. and i went along. why the hell did i do that?

i remember feeling torn inside, wanting to be a good girl and following my parents, but feeling that they were wrong somehow. (like the time they coerced my youngest sister and brother to tell on my older sister when she wore a bikini at the pool and then grounded the guilty party - who was ALREADY IN COLLEGE!!!!!)

we found each other on facebook after i connected with a bunch of other high school friends following my 30 year reunion. quite frankly, there are very few people i have any interest in knowing, since most of them are still fundamentalists, like our school taught us to be. but she's one i want to know.

her dad was an atheist, a proud outspoken "non-believer," in a town where your social connections, your reputation, and very likely your job depended on your fundamentalist alliances.

he got non-profit status for his home and held regular "religious" gatherings there - for atheists - because he was sick of churches getting a tax free ride! ha! that just cracks me up - that he had the balls to do that in the deep south! what a guy!

it's strange coming out to high school friends. i've done it with almost everyone who's contacted me since the reunion. most of them, i come out because i no longer give a flying fuck what they think of me. but some of them, i haven't yet, because we are still close, they were there for me through the years i was battered, through my divorce and losing my kids and i can't bear to disappoint them. yup, i'm still chicken shit about some things!

still, i believe in listening to my heart and coming out when it feels right to me, not on anyone else's time table.

it feels like i have to come out over and over and over. to my lesbian friends, i come out as bi. to my vanilla friends, i come out as kinky. to my married friends, i come out as polyamorous. to my straight friends, i come out as gay. and to some, i never come out. it just doesn't feel safe.

i'm not quite ready to lose all my best high school friends and i know they would disown me if they knew i was bi and an atheist. i don't think i can bear it just yet. i've lost so much; i can't take that just now; maybe later.

my friend and i talked about raising our daughters, she's got one, i have 2. we both have a son. we talked about good marriages and bad ones; she's 1 for 2; i'm 0 for 1. we talked about the diff between socal and norcal. she HATED LA! but loved big sur. i love norcal and am trying to talk her into coming back!

we talked about leaving fundamentalism and the fake social veneer of the south behind for more authentic ways of living. and finding a spirituality that makes sense to us. she and her hubby wandered through scientology, (and landed at an eclectic paganism as did i). she discovered the writings of carolyn meese and i waxed poetic about pema chodron.

we talked about good men and bad. the cruel kind who would violate our daughters, or our own selves, and the tender kind who stick with you through challenges and love you through your own fits of rage.

it was wonderful to reconnect with her. and it was great to hear her acceptance of my sexual choices. she's very non-judgmental; she said she'd had to work on that since she inherited a sassy mouth and strong opinions from her father. i totally related to that!

i walked home under that full moon and i told her i loved her and how thankful i was to reconnect with her after all these years. she said the same; we're planning a trip to see each other next summer hopefully. she's happily married and i want to meet her kids.

i described the view i was seeing. she said, "let's do this, let's look at the moon at the same time, you in cali, me in chicago. now we're looking at the same moon!"

and you know what! that moon had a halo big as texas! and it was rainbow colored! i mean it! it really was!

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

48 hour halloween extravaganza: descent into hell (or was it hole?)

there are some days when i blog as a discipline. since i really want to write an updated southern gothic novel (or would it be memoir???), i practice writing all the time.

there have been many days when i wanted to write but the internet was down, and strange as it may seem, i simply can't write just into thin air anymore. i can't use a word processor. (i think it's cuz it reminds me of the thousands of papers i had to write in grad school or of the millions of words i've written for nonprofit reports and grant requests. feels like WORK! whereas blogging feels like chatting with a best friend - the one you can pour out all your secrets to and she doesn't judge you.)

i wanna catch up on my life adventures. there have been so many lately, it's dizzying.

for halloween, i shopped at the goodwill store on university in berkeley, and found some great accessories for my gypsy fortune telling outfit. (a 7 foot long black and blue fuzzy stuffed snake and a crystal ball!)

my lover had cautioned me that the party we were attending was extremely exclusive and that i should take great pains over my costume. (i am unimpressed with exclusivity and never spend more than an afternoon primping so i just rolled my eyes at him.)

i did however, dye my hair with henna, get a pedicure in a glowing gold tone, and have my hair cut and styled. (i NEVER get mani's or pedi's unlike my high maintenance daughters! i find them too frivolous and plus, having asian women kneeling at my feet makes me really uncomfortable as an immigrants rights activist!)

and i played with all my burning man costumes for hours, trying on this and that thing, planning what i'd impress everyone with.

my lover seemed anxious and that made me nervous too. we drove to marin and fought a little over how we'd treat each other at the party. i recalled that while i love the way he treats me when we're in private, i loathe the way he treats me in public. when he's at my house or on my turf, he knows i don't put up with any macho bullshit.

but i've noticed that when we're out at a party as a couple, his middle eastern treat -women-like-they're-possessions personality comes out. ICK!

i gave him some guidelines and told him if he treated me at all like his property, i'd leave the party and he'd never see me again. i felt like we'd come a long way and he'd really progressed. i find him to be usually very teachable and truly eager to learn how american women want to be respected.

plus, it's my first time to date someone from another culture seriously, so i wanted to give him plenty of chances. i'm sure i've offended others from foreign countries with my own cultural ignorance so...fair's fair!

we lugged all our camping gear and tons of luggage up to the balinese style mansion in a ritzy neighborhood in marin. actually he did the lugging; i have a double standard about gender equality. i find that if i put on my makeup while the man does the heavy lifting, this works well for me. (:

there was security at the door and you had to have id to get in and your name had to be on the VIP list. wow! never been to a party like that! they even issued little "all access passes" to my lover and me!

i felt like i was wayyyyyyyyyyyy out of my league when i walked inside. i'm just a soccer mom from the south. and i revert to middle school insecurity when faced with people who are way smarter, way more well traveled, way better looking, tons more wealthy, and wayyyyyyyyyy more cultured than me. i suddenly go into time warp and feel that same old panic i used to feel worrying over my level of popularity back in junior high! it's NOT a pleasant sensation!

but before long, i was chatting up strangers and laughing with my lover's friends and several people started hitting on me. a roller blading self proclaimed son of god in a fabulous silver lame evening gown (we dubbed him "sexy jesus" since there was also an authentic jesus "just looking to get nailed!" at the party too) danced with me at the roller disco. (yes, the basement of the party had a roller disco complete with live dj, light show, pool table covered with percussion instruments so people could play along!)

then he began kissing my neck and he was quite cute and at least 15 years younger than me so i thought, what the hell, it's all harmless.

my lover and i had negotiated guidelines that we would check in with each other if either of us wanted to make out/fuck another person at the 3 day long party.

but i couldn't find him and sexy jesus was coming on strong so i decided it wouldn't hurt to snuggle!

the owners of the house had set aside their bedroom as a play room (as in sex play).

so we went there to cuddle. another couple, a white bi guy (dressed as elton john in glowing red sequins) and his hot japanese date (dressed as a domme with a large black bullwhip) lay beside us. they were friends of my lover, so we pupply piled all up and began stroking each other playfully!

the room had at least 3 king size mattresses inside huge dramatic balinese headboards and frames. the lights had been dimmed and there were red velvet covers on the beds. a fantastic boudoir with sculptures and objets d'art everywhere! exotic lamps had long satin tassles. after laying on my back a while i realized that attached to the headboard were all kinds of kinky sex toys. they were hard to see since the beds were made of intricately carved wood, hundreds of years old, and gloriously detailed.

at first i thought the house must be specially decorated for halloween but i found out they have it that way all the time! the wife is an author of vampire erotica, ala anne rice. in her office, which looked like a voodoo antique shop in the french quarter, she had altars on every shelf. these were not the kind of light airy goddess altars i make with my pagan friends. these were dark, brooding, voluptuous, bloody, and rich with catholic iconography and dark arts' haitian spirituality.

the husband is an artist in demand the world over. i got to tour his studio, a converted garage. he makes metal "paintings" etchings into silver, gold, aluminum, platinum, which are 2 dimensional but feel 3D since they seem to change shape like a holograph as you move about the room. truly stunning work!

clearly they are doing quite well for themselves!

so sexy jesus (is there anything sexier than a man in a dress?) and i were kinda making out a little when in walks my lover. ooooops. but he's a huge flirt and i figured he was just casing the play area to establish a place for his nightly catch, whomever that might be.

but i felt guilty so i bowed out politely, explaining to the son of god my lovers' and my rules. i felt a little silly. it was a wild party, not a citadel king gathering or a polyamory potluck where people readily talk about boundaries. this was a full on bacchanalia with no rules!

i found my lover and he introduced me to lots more of his friends, we danced a bit, and ended up back in the boudoir.

he lay me down and we began kissing and teasing each other like we enjoy. up came the host of the party, the artist owner of the place, dressed like the zorro(the elder one played by anthony hopkins) with dark eyeliner and long silver black hair, his own. as soon as my lover was done introducing me, zorro, who looked more than a little dangerous, started kissing me too. and playing with my ass, and before i knew it, he'd worked off my pants, pulled up my undies, and started licking my asshole.

that's right! he greeted me to his party, me a good little southern girl who always tried to live right, me who never did drugs or partied all night in my youth, who kept her almost virginity till marriage.....

me! he kissed my asshole!

i was just flabbergasted! and not in a good way.

normally, i would just slap a guy like that and tell him off right then and there.
but trouble is, i've come to enjoy wild kinky sex and i've come to like bad boys and want to find out what they have to offer.

and well, it felt good.

my lover has done that to me a couple of times, but only rarely since that particular sex act seems so.....well.....unseemly! plus, i'm a pretty healthy person and a safe sex advocate so licking someone's asshole is NOT my cup of tea. (no hepatitis for me thank you very much!)

but i found myself just giggling like a schoolgirl!

what the fuck!

what the hell was wrong with me?

my lover, i could see, was jealous and unsure what to do. we both didn't want to offend our host. he's clearly several gigantic social strata above us and we both rather wanted to be invited back to his enclave to meet more fascinating artists, authors, world travelers, story tellers, performers.

damn, what to do?

how exactly does one tell one's host to remove their tongue from your ass in a polite, inoffensive way?

amy vanderbilt didn't cover this subject. emily post had not said anything about this at all!

i caught my lover's eye, mouthed "what do i do?????" and he clearly had no clue.

so i consulted my inner southern bitch. she has always stood me in good stead. and i asked myself "what would an ethical slut do?"

i concluded that an ethical slut would enjoy the ride if it pleased her and get off at her convenience if it did not, host be damned!

and that's exactly what i did!

i lay there, allowing that man to lick my ass. i squeezed my lover's hand and stared him in the eyes since i figured it just might turn him on and allow him to relax and enjoy it too.

it felt good, and i was enjoying myself, and no one was getting hurt.

so there you have it!

more adventures later; it's getting late!

teaser: the host went down on me for hours the next night when he could have had any of a million young lovelies. and my lover got to comfort, snuggle, and intimately caress the hosts' wife while he was fucking me! haha! more to come!