All In A Day’s Work, Gang!

Wow, what a great day, gang!

Yesterday was so cool. Specifically, I am referring to my weekly Saturday morning phone conference with Peitor, re: Abstract Absurdity Productions.

We’re still working on one specific script. Shot by shot and moment by moment, even though (and especially because) it is only an 8 minute film.  Everything has to be so tight.

First off, Peitor weirdly overslept a huge amount and so we didn’t actually get started until after 12 noon, my time. I think that on some sort of subliminal level, those earthquakes they’re having out there in Los Angeles wore him out.

But eventually, we did indeed get started and it yielded another incredible session.

I know I bandy those words about: incredible, amazing, astounding, and the ever popular “so cool!”. But, I really, really mean it, gang! The psychological level we got to yesterday for the 3rd segment of the film really just astounded both of us.

(If you’re new to the blog — the plot premise of every film we’re developing is absolutely, completely, 100% absurd, otherwise we aren’t interested in making it. But from that starting point, we then want to make it a really watchable, engaging film/video experience that lasts 10 mins or less. )

When you’re scrutinizing something shot by shot, you readily find the holes in the script and while we’re brainstorming on how to fix a hole, that’s when the psychological level of the whole plot just goes off the charts for us. It’s so funny. Because the bottom line is that the entire premise is absolutely ridiculous.  Yet it is layered now with all this emotional/psychological stuff.

The creative process is so beautiful. How something evolves and really just takes on a tangible life, you know? Yesterday, Peitor was comparing the notes/script we now have against our original 3 lines of notes we made on this specific idea. Just the simple premise we had come up with originally that had made us laugh really hard.

We were sitting on stools at the counter in the French Market in Los Angeles, eating quiche and looking at  row upon row of intricately decorated chocolate and caramel pastries.  It was a sunny Friday in December; we were just hanging out, nothing to do. For a change, I wasn’t trying to dash off to too many meetings at once.  And suddenly we came up with this small, absurd idea and we were laughing so hard, we were nearly falling off the stools.  (And me being a genteel woman of a certain age – I totally pissed myself.)

However. That said.

If you’re a creative type, then you know how that small germ of an idea can really, really excite you. And yet once you start really developing it – whatever “it” is – and really opening to the creative life of it, it truly is astounding where it will take you and what actually – ultimately – gets created.

It is such a beautiful feeling, regardless of what it is you’re bringing to life.

And it’s so wonderful for me, personally, to be going through this process with someone I’ve known so well for so long. I’m an intense person and not everyone can work that well with me. I try not to be overwhelming or anything, but I also still cannot help being myself.  I’m driven by visions. And eventually my visions achieve a flow, you know? And if you’re clogging up the flow, well, “consternation” is a good word to describe my overall everything at that point. So trying to work with me is often not as easy as just being my friend.

And even just being friends with anybody, whether or not I’m involved, can get stressful, right?

Of course, years of experience of being someone’s friend (Peitor and I have been friends now for 35 years), teaches you how best to keep the flow open and to allow the other to just be who they are, because even while Peitor and I are very similar in so many ways, we are definitely not twins, or anything. Our minds work in very, very different ways.

And to be honest, at my age (I’ll be 59 in 17 days!!), I have already started to see so many people just drift off. To ill-health, to boredom – they’re not really interested in moving forward in any way; or their minds stay in some wonderful place in the past that they liked better. And of course, a number of my colleagues have died already.

I love younger  people, I really do. I love the energy and the thoughts and the approach to life that they bring to a conversation. To the planet. But it just feels so wonderful to be so creative with someone I’ve known so well for such a long time and to have it be a really positive (non-argumentative) experience.

And speaking of my birthday!!

And speaking of unending relationships, perhaps even of relationships that have come back from the dead!!

I have to scoot here because my first husband is calling me here momentarily. It is one of our annual phone chats. He likes to call me around my birthday.  And he has to be discreet – calling very early in the morning, his time zone. Because his life is on a whole different  path, in a whole different world; a whole different life! Which is a way of saying that he is not only in a relationship with someone who does not know that I exist, but it is a relationship that does not seem to even know that he was ever married. Ever. At all. Regardless of to whom ( for 9 years). And apparently he intends to keep it that way.

Okay-dokey! I sure don’t mind.  I love chatting with him. He always makes me laugh. And he cares about me and he knows me really well. I live in a world now where nobody knows me at all, so to be known is a beautiful feeling.  (Plus, you know how it is when you aren’t married to a person: what they do or don’t do is none of your business anymore at all.)

Have a super Sunday, wherever you are in the world, gang! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys! See ya!

 

Super Sunny Saturday Here!

Really lovely morning here, gang. Although later it’s supposed to rain unendingly, on into the wee small hours of the morning…

So let us gather our little rosebuds while we may!

Yes, the Spider did indeed replace all his lovely webs on the kitchen porch.  He looked amazing last night. He always seems so happy to be sitting right smack in the middle of his kingdom in all his brand new webs!

Of course, I might be projecting a bit.  He might come down from wherever it is he lives during the day, and see my handiwork with his old webs, and think: Jesus fucking Christ! What is the matter with that crazy dame? As soon as I get everything looking exactly the way I want it, she comes through and trashes everything and I have to start all over again.

It’s actually kind of hard to tell what he’s thinking.  I know he’s not afraid of me, or anything. Sometimes I just stand there at night and marvel at him in his amazing web. And he just sits there and stares back at me with all 1800 million of his eyes. Saying nothing.

Anyway!

Yes, it’s Saturday, which means I have to work with Peitor on the video script here in a bit. FYI, they’ve been having earthquakes again out in Los Angeles. He texted last night and said that last night’s quake was the only one he truly felt. It was another strong one.

Those earthquakes are one of the primary reasons I don’t want to settle in California. It just feels like flirting with disaster.

You know, back in 1989,  when they had that terrible earthquake in San Francisco, my first husband had just moved there from Honolulu. This was in the “death throes” era of our marriage.  I had stayed in NYC when he moved to Honolulu, which is what caused our separation – I still had my band, I was still singing all the time; I did not want to move to Honolulu.

But once he moved to San Francisco, he expected me to move out there and start behaving like a wife and stuff like that.

He called me on the phone. I was still living in my hellhole apartment on E. 12th Street. He said, “I’m buying you a house here and you’re going to move out here and you’re going to start behaving yourself.  I’ve been patient, but you’re my wife. It’s time for you to grow up and act like it.”

Gentle readers, I know you don’t actually know me, personally, but you probably know me well enough to presume that that little conversation didn’t go over too well with me.

Yes, I could have been smart!! I could have been like other women I know, frankly, and I could have thought: I could own prime real estate in San Francisco. Move out there for now. Get a deed in my name. THEN get a divorce.

But, honestly, my mind doesn’t ever work like that. Instead, I told him that I didn’t want to do any of those things.

So he got on a plane and flew out to NYC to have a more persuasive chat.  But for some reason, I just wanted a divorce. I just wanted to be myself, you know?  I would have suffocated if  I’d tried to be any sort of wife in a house in San Francisco. So he finally gave me my divorce.

Then, about a dozen years later, I did it again. Got married. And it didn’t work out. Because I am always “me” in whatever marriage I am trying to be in.  And a priest who was counseling me while I was in the process of leaving my second husband – because I was suffocating; going further out of my fucking mind; could not figure out how to be myself and still be “a wife.” The priest very discreetly said, “Are you sure you want to just leave? Have an uncontested divorce? You’re walking away from prime real estate in Manhattan.”

He honestly really said that. Nothing about how God might think that marriages should be eternal or anything.

I don’t know what it is about me. I just need to be in this perpetual state of divorcement or something, and clearly, I never want to be a gal who owns valuable real estate.

Actually, I just want to be loved, for who I am, and haven’t found marriage to be a real promoter of that kind of thing for me. And even The Beatles taught me very early on that: Money can’t buy me love, gang.

Who the fuck needs real estate, and real estate taxes that are off the charts, if the person you’re with constantly wishes you were something else?

There is that saying, “I clean up real good.” Meaning that I did look really good in a little black dress, high heels, the whole 9 yards of it. And both husbands appreciated that. But they both really, really, really wanted the personality underneath that “look” to just go away. The 2nd one, especially.

We were always locking horns with my career.  And I thought I had the coolest career ever, because I was doing stuff that had never been done before.

After Marilyn’s Room.com had been around for a little while, a director came to me with a script he wanted me to produce for Marilyn’s Room. I usually just promoted erotic fetish films that had already been made. But this one would be made exclusively for Marilyn’s Room; a 10-minute film, super saturated color, a fetish lesbian vampire thing. Hardcore fetish (blood sport), but not actual porn. And it would stream on the Internet instead of having to be downloaded, which was way too time-consuming and way too expensive.

This sounds so ordinary now, but back then, no one had ever done it. Ever. No one was producing highly stylized extreme hardcore fetish just for the Internet. It was so exciting to me.

When I went home and told my husband about it, he not only looked at me like I was from Mars, but Polanski’s film Repulsion barely captures everything else he felt. He just couldn’t stand the things my mind loved.

I never made the film because the only people willing to fund it were either in the hardcore porn industry,  or in the Mafia.

I had very good relationships with both of those avenues, but I wasn’t stupid or anything.  It was so important to me that the porn industry not be what was funding Marilyn’s Room, because to me, what we were doing was Art.  And then the Mafia. I mean, I’m just not stupid.

The bar I hung out in at that point was a Mafia place in Midtown, and the men there were well into producing movies. Regular movies, I mean. I was telling one of them about this great script, this cool great new idea that I was trying to get funded, and he jumped on it, even though I wasn’t asking him for funding.  He said, “I can give you $50K right now if you’ll just wait right here!”

But you  know. I was still young and kind of good-looking. I knew exactly what they were gonna want from me in exchange for $50K for pretty much the rest of my life.

It was too funny! Why couldn’t any regular people say something to me like, “I can give you $50K right now if you’ll just wait right here!”

But nobody else I approached really “got it.” They could barely understand the Internet yet, and so could not understand producing a 10-minute, intensely strange fetish video for it. Instead, they wanted me to go out to Hollywood with them and make regular movies out there.

ME: “But why would I want to do that? Everyone’s doing that. I wanna stay here. And do this.”

And that’s sort of the story of my life, right? “But I wanna stay here, and do this.”

Oh well! Whatever, gang! Such is the tale of me and matrimony and art and real estate.

Okay. I’m gonna get going here before I have a 3-hour phone call to attend to.

I leave you with 2 options today. One is my actual breakfast-listening music from this morning. A song I absolutely love & wish someone would sing about ME, just exactly the way I am!!  However, it is no longer politically correct to listen to this song. So it might offend you. (Michael Jackson, “Got to be There.”)

The second is something I heard this morning on a music blog I follow,  hotfox63,  from out of Switzerland, I think. I love the song but never knew the name of it before because I was about 7 years old when it came out! (The Kinks, “Waterloo Sunset.”)

All righty! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!!!

 

 

Absolutely 100% For Real, Done!

I finally finished the final edit, final re-write, final everything on Blessed By Light and it is done, gang.

I am just so pleased with it. I have the best Muse ever, and I just feel so blessed. What a strange little book it is but I really, really love it.

And continued thanks to all of you who keep downloading the eBooks at Smashwords. At this point, I know it’s people who probably aren’t even coming to this blog, unless of course, you all like to download the exact same books over & over & over.

But, still, thanks.

In fact, I remember the long ago days when each of those stories in those erotic “Muse” collections was brand new, and I would finish  writing one of them — it was always a great feeling. And a really great feeling when the story got sold.

The thrill of getting that letter from a publisher that said, “We are happy to inform you…” (Back then it was actual letters, not emails.)

In fact, I only wrote one short story – a really early one – that didn’t eventually get sold, gang. So if you are still new to your own writing career, just hang in there and keep believing in yourself. It all eventually comes to pass.

(And eventually the letters became, “Dear Ms. Lewis, We know how busy you are, but we are writing to ask you if you’d be willing to contribute” etc., etc.)

So, yeah, it’s a beautiful world!!

Okay, I’m gonna go collapse for a few minutes! Thanks for visiting!!

I leave you with my current favorite song for my Muse! (Honestly, I can’t stop playing this song, gang. I think this is gonna go down as the best year in my life.)

Yes! Onward!

Gang, I hope you had a happy 4th (if you live State-side, that is)!

As I posted yesterday, around these parts – Crazeysburg, specifically – we’re having our 4th on the 5th. Which, of course, irritates me because I’m long past the holiday mood and am headlong into a regular day here.

However, I only live one block from where all the merriment will ensue soon, so I’m guessing I will be forced to at least spiritually participate, since all my windows are open.

Anyway. As grumbley as I am about it not happening on the actual 4th, I know I will enjoy the fireworks tonight because I have that clear view of them from my kitchen porch.

Speaking of the kitchen porch, and thus speaking indirectly of the spider who lives out there and builds those extensive webs (see some other post from the other day, only God knows which one). Last evening, I went out to the porch to water the flowers and I saw a little beetle stuck in one of the webs.  He was perfectly alive and the spider hadn’t done anything about it.

This happens from time to time, and when it does, I carefully remove the insect from the web and set it free.  I did this to the beetle and his little legs grabbed onto my finger and he did not want to let go.

I tried to set him down in the grass and send him on his merry beetle way, because I am a gal who has things to do & people to see! But he just wanted to stay put on my hand and not go anywhere. I even tried scooting him on to a blade of grass, to use it as a transport to the actual lawn, but he would have none of it. He kept avoiding the blade of grass and staying put on my hand. And the bottoms of his feet were kind of sticky or something like that. I mean, I could feel that he had a real hold on me and wasn’t going to budge.

It was actually quite endearing. But I really did have to go back inside and, yes, go sit back down at my desk, so I finally was able to move him down onto the grass. And for several minutes afterward, I could still feel the pressure of his little feet on my hand.

It was so cool. But then I wiped down all the old webs to try to keep that from happening again. If the spider is still around, I know he had new ones back in place by sundown. I haven’t actually checked yet.

But, speaking of my desk…

So, yes, as I posted yesterday, during the night on Wednesday, all the final edits for Blessed By Light finally arrived and I was prepared for yesterday to just be a final read-through of the novel so that I could sign off on it in my head and focus on the play.

I had a brief email exchange yesterday morning regarding my revisions for Chapters 1 & 2, and while the editor felt they were working just fine, I in fact did more revisions to those chapters yesterday, along with minor revisions on chapters 3, 4, 5 & 6! And I know I am going to do some tweaking to Chapters 7 & 8 today.

But that really is going to be it. From Chapter 9 onward, the novel moves into a different tone, because the 2 main characters are more securely into their relationship, so the tone changes.   But I just wanted elements of that tone to be in there from the beginning of Chapter 1, so that’s what I worked on all day yesterday. For about 10 hours.

I knew there weren’t going to be any fireworks yesterday, or anything, so it didn’t really feel like a holiday to me anyway.

Still, I did acutely notice that my life is so different nowadays from what it was in NYC. It didn’t matter which holiday it was back then, Wayne & I always cooked and baked and bought a ton of booze and fine wine and had an apartment full of noisy, happy people. Always. That’s just how we were.

And I still have all the stuff that goes along with cooking and baking for tons of people – I have a really good-sized kitchen here in the depths of Crazeysburg. I have lots of cupboards, tons of storage.  And every single nook & cranny is full of things made for cooking and baking and God knows I have a ton of dishes, too.

So, I couldn’t help but be reminded of all that, as I went down to the kitchen for my 4th of July dinner last night, and it was an orange, 3 pieces of broccoli,  and one of those “green” smoothies that’s full of all sorts of things you don’t want.

But I’m actually okay with it. Things change. I am definitely someone who needs change.  When I left NYC, aside from an impending divorce, I was ready to leave. NYC was morphing into something I didn’t really enjoy anymore.

I was on the phone with my Uncle yesterday and he kept laughing about it, you know: “What is going on with you? Why are you living there? Why are you staying there? It makes no sense! Did they take your passport? Are you unable to get out?”

But I’m really, really happy here, for the first time ever in my life. I cannot explain it. And loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I had to beg the realtor to show me this house. I had to beg two realtors, in fact. I brought it up 5 times.

ME: “I want to go out to Muskingum County and at least look at that house.”

THEM: “No you don’t.”

ME: “Why??!! It sounds perfect for me!”

THEM: “It’s not. It’s a mess of a house. Been on the market almost 2 years.”

But when I finally persuaded a realtor to take me through it, she couldn’t believe how much work had been done to the inside of the house in the 2 years it had been languishing on the market.

Anyway. It was the perfect house for me. And I bought it. And I’m ridiculously happy here, even though everyone who knows me – from my wee bonny girlhood days in Cleveland, onward – equates me with an intensely urban environment.

But it is a great house for writing in. It’s so incredibly quiet here.

Okay, well! I see there is a new Red Hand Files newsletter from Nick Cave in my inbox, gang! So I think I will close this and read that and then get back to work around here!!

Oh, one other thing that happened yesterday – how easy Amazon makes my world!

I was typing away, and a little thing popped up in the bottom corner of my laptop screen. It was Amazon, alerting me that I might want to buy White Lunar right away, because it was on sale! (White Lunar is a soundtrack collection by Nick Cave & Warren Ellis from a number of years ago.)

Amazon usually tells me to buy things I already own, but I don’t actually own this CD collection yet. Truthfully, I don’t know that I was actually planning to own it, although I do own another one of their soundtrack CDs that I really love.  I can’t remember now which one it is, but it’s that Depression-era country sounding type thing. I really love it.

So I just clicked a little button and the entire purchase was completely done and I just went right on typing revisions of the novel.

And that is one reason why I have so much fucking music in this house! It’s so darn easy!

Okay, gang. I leave you with this version of Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side as performed  by a now-defunct Australian band, Yves Klein Blue.

I was turned onto this cover of the song yesterday morning, on the a1000mistakes blog site out of Australia, and I just love it!! Enjoy your Friday wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!

Happy Independence Day!!

Do all kinds of independent things today, gang, okay??!!

I am not a jingoist kind of gal, or anything, so this is my only annual homage to the 4th of July:

The smallest coffee cup in my house that is not meant for espresso!

The only good thing about this coffee cup is that it is so small, I have to constantly go back down to the kitchen to refill it. So it’s a good “exercise mug”!! (It actually doesn’t look as small as it really is from this angle.)

You’ll note in the background there – my tickets to see Nick Cave in NYC! I decided the only way I would ever remember to bring them with me was to have them in plain sight every single solitary day for something like 4 or 5 months.

Speaking of Nick Cave (and correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I’m always speaking about Nick Cave…), I had a dream about him last night that was so strange.  He sent me 2 emails and inside each email was a window – an actual window like you would have in your house. And each window was in the shape of Australia. (Don’t ask me how actual windows can arrive in an email.)

The dream was strange enough to wake me up at around 3am and try to figure out what the heck it could mean. (I have no clue.)

I don’t dream about Nick Cave often, but when I do, there is always that duplicate thing happening – meaning 2 of the same thing. (Oh, and when I dream about him, he’s always wearing a white shirt and a black suit.) (I know, clearly, my issues with his suits extend to unfathomable psychological depths.) (And when I dream about other people, I never notice what they’re wearing at all, and I doubt that if I dream of them more than once, they’re wearing the very same thing every single time.)

Anyway. In dreams, baby!!!

Well, lest you think anything I ever plan to do on any given day ever pans out….

No! The final edits for Blessed By Light did not arrive until very late last night, when I was already asleep. So I was not able to do that final read-through of the novel yesterday. I will likely do it today, even though it’s a holiday.

I did do a bunch of stuff with the new laptop yesterday, though, so that is finally up and completely running.  It has great speakers! I’m still not using it as my main computer, though, because the novel is in a WORD Add-in app that I’m not going to transfer to the new laptop.

Even though those novel-writing apps are cool to use, I have found that as soon as I need to send a chapter, or the whole book, to someone, I have to reformat the whole darn thing or nobody can read it correctly because the file arrives weirdly at their end.

So that app’s going, but everything else transferred and I am now a Brave New Girl with a fully updated laptop.

The other thing I wasted a ridiculous amount of time on last evening, was I tried to join a new dating site.  One of those sites that is strictly for bisexuals or bi-curious’s looking to hookup, and has nothing whatsoever to do with the L word. (No!! Not lesbian! I am indeed speaking of love right now, and about how I don’t actually want it.)

Bi-curious, I have found, is generally a married woman who’s cheating her brains out, or a married woman whose husband has an agenda that he deeply wishes you to participate in.

True bisexuals are harder to find than you would think, so I’m not too terrifically picky. However, I did have the most ridiculously difficult time setting up my little profile! It kept wanting to use my private email address as my user name!!

You can probably readily see why I might shy away from a thing like that!

But also, it kept telling me that I couldn’t use my private email address as my user name!! And then wouldn’t let me change it. And I couldn’t set up my entire profile without changing that user name problem.

Even so, as I was attempting to set up my profile,  you know, realizing that I’m looking for a bisexual gal who is a vegetarian, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t do drugs, and wants NSA hookups with no LTR — you know. I mean, there are about 14 people who live out here in the Hinterlands. And I seriously know in my bones that none of them are gonna fit this description. Plus, I know I only have about 5 minutes of free time every 3 weeks.

I felt completely confident that I was setting myself up to fail. However, I kept trying to make the darn thing work because I was just in that insistent sort of mood. You know: I wanted a girl! Who doesn’t drink or smoke or get high or eat animals or want to spend more than 5  minutes with me every 3 weeks!!

Finally , I broke down and started a Tech Help ticket to try to make my private email address as my user name go away. And immediately they replied, letting me know that they would look into my problem within 48 hours

Well, in 48 hours, god knows I won’t be thinking about dating anybody anymore because I’ll be up to my eyeballs in revisions of my play. So that was an evening well spent!

Oh, and then I discovered that the fireworks around here this year won’t be until tomorrow. Well, that totally sucks because I really only appreciate 4th of July fireworks on the 4th of July. By tomorrow, my mind will be on a whole new path, even though fireworks will be filling the sky in plain view of my kitchen porch. (They do that weird scheduling thing because all the little towns around here try not to conflict with other towns’ fireworks, including the event in the main city, which draws millions of people.)

Well, anyway. Onward, gang!! It’ll still be a really nice Independence Day for me!

Okay.

I leave you with this fun video from the Another Man Magazine site in the UK. The band is Wild Daughter and the song is “Mr G.”  It’s highly stylized gay fetish, which is always fun on the 4th of July!

All righty! Have a wonderful day, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

The Muse Revisited!

Thanks again, gang, for the unending downloads of my free eBook titles over at Smashwords!

Once again, hundreds of people are primarily downloading The Muse Revisited Volumes 1 -3, with an occasional download of Freak Parade, and maybe one lowly download of Twilight of the Immortal (!).

But, hey. I’m not judging… Porn addicts are people, too.

I’m just kidding!

The free downloads continue throughout the entire month of July, as part of Smashwords annual site-wide Summer Sale. Direct links to the eBooks can be found in the drop down menu above, under About Marilyn Jaye Lewis. You have to choose the Smashwords link, as the titles are not free on Amazon.

Below is an excerpt from The Muse Revisited Volume 1.

“I Like Boys” (c-1997) was one of my most popular stories ever. It was written specifically as a spoken-word performance piece, and then was published numerous times in anthologies published in the US and UK.

In 1998, I launched the website Marilyn’s Room.com.

Marilyn’s Room.com was a multi-media international erotic arts site, the first of its kind. It was free, with no advertisements on the site at all.  We featured erotic paintings and photographs from all over the world. We had downloadable readings of erotic poetry, fiction, and memoirs. We also had recorded audio interviews with writers, photographers, artists, and filmmakers. We had downloadable erotic films from all over the world, as well. (Mostly extremely unusual fetish films, produced by indie lesbian-owned film companies, but not always).

In those days, porn had barely made any inroads on the World Wide Web because everyone was still learning how to make movies affordable to download on dial-up, since movie files back then were huge files and took forever to download.  Because of that, though, there was a huge audience for erotica and short erotic films online (erotica being the bastard – though perhaps slightly more elegant- stepchild of porn).

Marilyn’s Room.com was very popular internationally but oddly enough, not as popular as my first site, OtherRooms.com, was – and OtherRooms had no images whatsoever; it was strictly literary erotic fiction. Meaning you really had to know how to read. And in those days, when most people could only get online at work or at school, we were nevertheless getting between 5-10K readers a day, and eventually made it into Playboy‘s Online Hall of Fame.

But when I launched Marilyn’s Room.com in NYC in 1998, we had the first ever live coast-to-coast Internet broadcast of erotica readings. It went over extremely well. I wrote “I Like Boys” specifically to read for that broadcast. It was a press event, well attended by journalists from the NY Times, the Wall Street Journal, Village Voice, Daily News, etc., (open bar with top shelf booze works wonders, gang!), and oddly enough, all the journalists back then were men.  The only women in attendance that night were either connected somehow to Marilyn’s Room.com, or were reading on the broadcast.

But because there were all these men in attendance, “I Like Boys” went over incredibly great.  More so than I could have ever anticipated.

Anyway. It is included in The Muse Revisited Volume 1. It was intended to be a spoken word piece, so it’s not truly a short story. It’s indeed short, though – 1400 words, approx. 2 pages.

It is sexually graphic and likely to offend the average reader, so please be forewarned, gang!  Okay! Enjoy. Thanks for visiting!

*********************************************************

“I Like Boys”

I like boys who are decidedly youthful-looking, who don’t have a lot of body hair. Preferably boys who’ve maybe just dropped out of college. Boys who wish they knew a lot but who know they haven’t got a clue yet. And who – regardless of the variety of their sexual experiences – still feel overwhelmed by me because they know I’m so much older.

I like boys who consider themselves to be straight, but who, after spending a long time talking with me in my bed in the dark, eventually admit that they might be bisexual. That sometimes they’ve even worried that they’re actually gay.

I love to hear those stories that a boy has never told another living soul yet. Like the one about the stretch of yard behind his parents’ house back home where the boy may have gone with a buddy, an overly attentive school pal. A stretch of yard that was hidden from the world. The place where the boy had finally given in, where he’d lowered his jeans down his thighs and let his buddy get between his legs and suck his dick. The story usually involves the boy’s surprise over having gotten “so hard so fast.” His emotional mixture of desire and loathing as he’d watched his own dick growing stiffer as it moved in and out of his buddy’s mouth. Usually there’s a part about the buddy having seemed “too eager”-a thing that unnerves the boy still in his telling of the secret tryst. An eagerness that had compelled the boy to grab onto his buddy’s head and pump into his mouth hard. Until the jism had shot out hot and with such uncontrollable force that his buddy had had to hold tight to the boy’s bare thighs in an effort to keep his balance while the jism had spurted down his throat.

You can’t beat hearing a story like that-it’s a sign that a boy trusts you.

I like it when a boy trusts me; it means we’re likely to go places together. I don’t mean to cafés or bars or nightclubs. I’m talking about those less tangible places, which usually involve taking all our clothes off and not being in any hurry to leave the apartment for a few days. Where take-out food deliveries are our only meals and even the wine is ordered in.

I like going places with a boy that involve changing into different outfits, different shoes, and then leaving them strewn all over the apartment. And wearing down my favorite tube of lipstick because it keeps smudging off on the wineglass, the cigarette filters, the slightly rough unshaved face, and the boy’s thick stiff cock. Or sometimes the lipstick smudges off onto the pillowcases if I happen to have my face buried there. Or if maybe I’m biting on the pillow because I’m getting that thick cock stuffed into me hard from behind.

That’s when the boy seems most like a man, though. That’s when the subtle aroma of the wine, as it’s poured into the wine glasses that are just in reach on the night table when you’re taking a break from fucking-that aroma only serves to remind you of how elusively time passes. It helps if it’s twilight, too, and through the open window you can see the lights coming on through the trees across the Hudson River.

*     *     *     *

I like boys who watch me very intently as I start to tie them up. They’re not in a hurry to protest, but they’re young enough to be unsure of how far I’m likely to go.  I like when a boy feels like he doesn’t have to be in control, though. Like, maybe I’ve tied him down spread-eagled to the bed and he’s watching intently as I kneel between his spread legs. Then I slide his erect cock in and out of my lipsticked mouth. When he feels my finger slip up his ass, he doesn’t complain. Or how a boy surrenders when you slip the blindfold over his beautiful eyes? I like that, blindfolding a boy who’s tied down. I can plant my soaking pussy right on his mouth then and he acts like he’s never wanted a pussy more in all his life. He devours my swollen lips with a lot of passion, as if not having a choice in the matter is what’s really turning him on.

Sometimes it’s fun to turn around then. To keep my pussy planted on his mouth but lean down and let my tongue lick lightly at his piss slit. Let it run up and down his aching shaft, maybe lick determinedly at the spot just under the swollen crown-or maybe down under his balls-but not take his whole dick in my mouth again for a while.

A boy can get really excitable when my mouth is doing stuff like that. He’ll moan distractedly, or go at my clit with such enthusiasm that I start wondering, how can he even breathe? His nose is practically buried in my soaking hole.

But here’s what I really like: A boy who isn’t afraid to show me his asshole, who might even like to lay belly down and spread his legs for me while I admire him. I like it best if he doesn’t want to be tied then because it indicates to me that he’s really wanting it. I like it when a boy is really wanting it-the rimming part. I do that first. I try to be really thorough and patient with a rimjob. Push his cheeks apart and hold them spread while my tongue licks slowly at his hole, or around his hole, or up and down his crack, because it really helps a boy relax. And a boy needs to feel relaxed. He needs to feel he can trust me, because I’m going to strap on a greased-up silicone tool and slide it up his ass and he knows it. He’s agreed to it beforehand. Sometimes he’s even been the one to suggest it-to ask for it.

And if he’s liking it enough, if he’s into it and his hole is opening up easily for me, I’ll probably fuck him hard. Hold onto his arched ass while I fuck him and tell him how beautiful he looks. How incredible his ass is as it takes the tool in deep. Maybe I’ll even have him pull his knees up under himself so he can jerk-off while he’s getting reamed. And then the noises he’ll start to make-god, the grunting. I love to listen to those lusty sounds a boy getting fucked is likely to make.

But it won’t happen at all if a boy’s not willing to turn over for me.

Which doesn’t mean I don’t like boys who won’t turn over.

I even like those boys who like it best when I’m flat on my back, who hike my long legs up over their shoulders. Maybe keep my wrists pinned down to the mattress with their large, substantial hands. Who shove their hard dicks into me deep, over and over-maybe getting in too deep. And maybe seeming to like the fact that I’m grunting like an animal, even while my mouth is being kissed-devoured, almost. His tongue shoving in and filling my mouth while I whimper.

I like a boy who knows enough to keep fucking me even if it sounds like I’m in pain.

*     *     *     *

I like when a boy lights up a cigarette in the dark-after we’ve finished fucking, maybe, and there’s a jism-filled condom lying somewhere on the bed but no one wants to turn on the light yet and find it. So we lie there instead, naked and entwined, and share a cigarette. Pass it back and forth, even though we’ve heard all the stories about how smoking is no good for us.

I like a worn-out boy to lay his head against my bare breasts in the tangle of sheets and pillows, while I hold him in the crook of my arm and we share that cigarette in bed. There’s something about that fiery glow as we drag on the cigarette in the darkness; it makes confessions seem simple. Boys will tell you the oddest things, if the room’s really dark and they’re sure no one but you can hear them. I’m not big on confiding, myself, but I love to listen to a boy’s dreams.

© 1997 Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Solar Celestial Insanity!

How ’bout that solar eclipse yesterday, gang??!!

Wasn’t it cool? I saw it by way of Brian May‘s Instagram feed. (If you’re too young to know who he is, he was the lead guitarist for Queen.) He is very much into celestial occurrences of all kinds and posts incredible footage of stuff that goes on in the heavens while it’s happening.

So that was my experience of the solar eclipse!

Apparently Instagram is now the center of my life here on Earth.  I can take a break from vacuuming the house, sit on the corner of my bed, sweating profusely in the indescribable heat & humidity, and watch a live feed of the solar eclipse in Santiago, Chile, courtesy of Brian May while he pauses an outdoor rehearsal somewhere in preparation for a tour with Queen (Adam Lambert playing the Freddie Mercury role).

Instagram certainly encapsulates the whole fucking world, doesn’t it, gang?!

My other experience of the solar eclipse yesterday was a pronounced intensity in one of my key relationships. That’s all I’m gonna say about that, though. It is sufficient to simply state that everything is back on track & on we go.

Edits for Blessed By Light are still coming in, so I wasn’t able to completely finish that yesterday. I’m hoping that today will be all about reading the novel again from Page 1 and making sure I have all the edits addressed and just see how I feel about the whole book (again).

To me, it feels like an homage to every older man that I have ever loved. And yet I already know for certain that it rubs feminists the wrong way, and I just have to wonder, honestly, why is that?  He’s a man with a mind of his own.  I wonder why that’s so off-putting to some women?

I was talking to my wonderfully other-worldly friend Kara about this the other day, and she said that when it comes to literature, it’s a good thing to have a character that brings out strong feelings in a reader, either way. I liked her take on that so I’m gonna go with that one.

BTW, we had seriously intense weather here yesterday evening. Kara lives about 25 miles from me, but it’s still out here in the Hinterlands, and she texted me this cool photo from out by where she lives:

Storm brewing last evening in the Hinterlands

My dad called me on the phone last evening, in the middle of the torrential downpour with thunder & lighting and tornado sirens going off. And I was discussing with him this situation about the guy in my new novel, and also about how the book has a lot of sex in it but not as much as my readers usually prefer, and that I expect it to sell on a small press in a narrow market, that it’s not the kind of novel that will be a bestseller or anything.

And he said,  “You never know, Marilyn. This book could sell better than you’re thinking; the timing could be right. It could become a cult favorite or something.” And he said this during a torrential downpour, thunder & lighting, tornado sirens screaming outside my open windows, AND this is a man who has always gone to great lengths to assure me that every single thing in my whole entire life is always gonna suck.

So the whole entire conversation was just surreal. It was very nice for him to be on my side, for a change. But it was just surreal.

Anyway. That weather. Wow.

It began with a sudden gust of very high winds around 6pm. Really high winds. It was slamming doors inside my house and blowing stuff around, and outside it was bending trees way over and just very intense. No rain yet, or anything, but very threatening skies as brooding clouds came trampling in.

I was upstairs in my guest room, lowering the windows and across the street from me, on the grassy corner where the train tracks are, a young guy – couldn’t have been more than 17 — long blonde hair, really scraggly facial hair, shirtless, wiry & muscular, a couple tattoos on his arms, torn & faded jeans, sneakers.  In short, incredibly cute. He was just standing there, looking up at my enormous maple tree blowing in the wind and then looking at everything all around him, his face an expression of joyful jubilation over just being alive in all that intense, high wind.

He was just standing there, taking it all in, really joyfully. And I fell totally in love with him in that instant, you know? Life.

God, I love boys. And boys in summer, especially.

Okay, well. Since I didn’t get all my edits until very late last night, I spent the day doing laundry, vacuuming, getting the house a little bit in order. So that kinda felt good, even though it was stupidly hot while I was doing all that.

I fell asleep last night in the thunder & lighting and all that wild insanity, and yet awoke really joyfully this morning at 4:53am.

I was awash in all that lovely Eros again and I leave you today with the song I was unexpectedly singing – out loud – when my eyes opened onto the dark & still-rainy morning!

Have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

“I Could Have Danced All Night”
(from “My Fair Lady” musical)

Bed! Bed! I couldn’t go to bed!
My head’s too light to try to set it down!
Sleep! Sleep! I couldn’t sleep tonight!
Not for all the jewels in the crown!

I could have danced all night
I could have danced all night
And still have begged for more
I could have spread my wings
And done a thousand things
I’ve never done before

I’ll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight

I only know when he
Began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced,
All night!

I could have danced all night
I could have danced all night
And still have begged for more
I could have spread my wings
And done a thousand things
I’ve never done before

I’ll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight

I only know when he
Began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced,
All night!

c – 1956 Frederick Loewe, Alan Jay Lerner

Wow! Thanks, Gang!

And I am not being at all sarcastic when I say, “Thank you so much for downloading all those eBooks yesterday, for FREE!”

(God knows, I wouldn’t want to be encumbered with all those royalties, or anything, had you chosen to pay cash…)

Of course, I’m just kidding! Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that this same thing happened during the Christmas week last year, when all my eBooks were available as free downloads and the thousands of eBooks that were downloaded for free during that one week made my head spin. It astounds me that so many people still want to read the old erotica, paying or not.

Actually, I do want to take a moment to thank those readers who bought Twilight of the Immortal on Amazon in June! For some unknown reason, that book got a little popular again! I really appreciate that, gang. I love that book.

And there is sex in that book, too, you know.  You needn’t fear that it is 600 pages of no sex. There is, indeed, sex in it. Just not graphic erotica. Nothing explicit. Plus, it’s a lot of girl/girl sex, and a little bit of guy/guy sex.  (Mostly Rudolph Valentino getting a blowjob from a young Mexican guy – a prostitute who works out of a call house off Sunset Boulevard.) (Okay, I just gave that away! But you still might want to read it for yourself and experience the exquisiteness of my use of language!)

(And for those readers who took issue with my insistence that Rudolph Valentino was bisexual – there is a great book from several years ago, a biography of Samuel Steward titled, Secret Historian, written by Justin Spring, that corroborated what I put in my own book before Secret Historian even came out. Samuel Steward details an episode of oral sex he had with Valentino in a hotel room — in Ohio!! — in July of 1926. A month before Valentino died. I’m not going to go into all those details here, but I will say that Secret Historian is an incredible book, gang, and not just because it mentions this Valentino episode. But because it is ALL about the life and experiences of an incredible sexual renegade (Samuel Steward was also “an intimate friend” of Thornton Wilder’s, among just a ton of other people – Gertrude Stein, etc.)  from the days when gay sex was still very much illegal in America. I highly recommend the book if you’re interested in that kind of secret history.)

Anyway. I digress! Thank you recent purchasers of Twilight of the Immortal. I appreciate it so much.

As well, I appreciate non-purchasing readers of anything I’ve ever written!!

Yesterday’s mail brought me something really unexpected and just so sweet.  Foun Kee, my first husband, sent me a gift for my upcoming birthday, along with a little handwritten note. It really just made my day. It was wrapped in newspaper – the color ad insert from the local grocery store out there (he lives in Seattle), so it was interesting to see what people eat and what they pay for it in Seattle!

Yesterday evening, however, took a very dark and horrible downward turn!

Yes! I decided it was time to tackle the set up of the new laptop. OMG! If you think I used the ‘f’ word a lot just for no reason at all, you should hear what happens when I have 3 solid hours of very good reasons to use it!!

And the darn thing is still not completely set up because I still have to migrate all my files from the old laptop to the new one. Plus it was 90 degrees in here while I was trying to do all that. I was down at the kitchen table, and streaming episodes of Endeavour again, so at least that part had a sort of psychologically calming effect.  But, man, that stuff makes me so nuts.

And it makes me want to hold on to my current laptop as long as I possibly can! But then I remind myself that this happens every single time I get a new laptop and eventually I come to terms with the new one and all harmony is restored to my writing life.

And curiously enough (at least to me, anyway) – on my current laptop, I chose a photo of Tintern Abbey in Wales as the screen background. And on the new laptop, I chose a photo I took myself of Basin Street this past fall — on Halloween, actually:

Basin Street in the early fall.

It’s enormous as the background of my new laptop. And I realized I must be truly happy here, gang, if I want to look at this every time I start my computer…

Okay, I’ve scoured the Internet to try to get a copy of one of the photos taken of Nick Cave & Kylie Minogue onstage at Glastonbury the other day, but I cannot find the exact one I want — which is on Instagram and I can’t get it off of there. But I did find a decent one from the BBC, so allow me to steal it and paste it here!

Related image

You know, being an American girl through and through, I have no real clue who Kylie Minogue is. Obviously I do know that she’s a popular singer from the world beyond America, but I primarily know this because she sang that duet with Nick Cave a million years ago, and then put in a stunning appearance in the back seat of his car in the film 20,000 Days on Earth. Also, there was a really funny episode of The Vicar of Dibley many years ago (all the episodes are funny), about getting Kylie Minogue to perform at their community fair thing. (You can actually watch it here, gang. If you’re not familiar with this old British TV show, it was so fucking funny.) But that is the extent of what I know about Kylie Minogue – except that she & Nick Cave looked incredibly blissed out and happy to be singing together again. (I think they might have done other things together, a million years ago, but don’t quote me on that or anything. I wouldn’t want to have another one of those “Valentino in a hotel room” type of arguments on my hands!)

All righty, gang. I’m gonna get this day underway. I think it’s going to be all about the final editing of Blessed By Light and then finding it in myself to really switch gears and re-direct my focus to revisions on the play, finally. (I know, I keep saying that.)

Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world!  Thanks for visiting, and thank you, again, for downloading all the eBooks. I really do appreciate the continued interest in my earlier stuff.

I leave you with a little peace of heaven. I love Jane Siberry. If you have never seen/heard her perform live (and this specific song, too), you are missing a transcendent experience. She truly sings like an angel – like something right out of heaven. And then of course, I probably don’t have to tell you how KD Lang sings. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

Calling All Angels
Santa Maria, Santa Teresa, Santa Anna, Santa Susannah
Santa Cecilia, Santa Copelia, Santa Domenica, Mary Angelica
Frater Achad, Frater Pietro, Julianus, Petronilla
Santa, Santos, Miroslaw, Vladimir and all the rest
A man is placed upon the steps and a baby cries
High above you can hear the church bells start to ring
And as the heaviness, oh, the heaviness, the body settles in
Somewhere you can hear a mother sing
Then it’s one foot, then the other as you step out on the road
Step out on the road, how much weight, how much?
Then it’s how long and how far and how many times
Oh, before it’s too late?
Calling all angels, calling all angels
Walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone
Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re tryin’, we’re hopin’ but we’re not sure how
Oh, and every day you gaze upon the sunset with such love and intensity
Why?
It’s ah, it’s almost as if you could only crack the code then you’d finally understand
What this all means
Oh, but if you could, do you think you would trade in all
All the pain and suffering?
Oh, but then you’d miss the beauty of the light upon this earth
And the, and the sweetness of the leaving
Calling all angels, calling all angels
Walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone
Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re tryin’, we’re hopin’ but we’re not sure how
Calling all angels (calling all angels), calling all angels (calling all angels)
Walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone (walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone)
Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re tryin’, we’re hopin’, we’re hurtin’, we’re lovin’
We’re cryin’, we’re callin’ ’cause we’re not sure how this goes

 

c – 1991 Jane Siberry

Buongiorno, Bella!!

Wow, gang. Yesterday was quite the amazing Instagram day!

The Raconteurs new album, Help Us Stranger, opened  at the top of the Billboard charts! I think it sold something like 88,000 copies in it’s first week.

Nick Cave made an appearance at the Glastonbury Music Festival, reuniting again with Kylie Minogue to sing their famous murder ballad from a million years ago, Where the Wild Roses Grow.

Really fantastic photos from that, gang. He should consider holding that gal in his arms for the rest of his life because I haven’t seen him look that happy in a long, long, LONG time. Just lovely.

Dana Petty uploaded a video from a concert Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers did on their final tour, 2 summers ago. It was footage of the song “Learning to Fly” where Tom is not even singing because the thousands and thousands and thousands of people in the audience are doing all the singing for him, and really joyfully and really loudly. It was wonderful. He looked really happy, too.  I think Dana had taken the video with her phone. (And he would be dead within, like, 90 days from an accidental overdose of pain meds, so of course, hindsight makes it all very poignant.)

Ronnie Wood was all over Instagram with before & after show footage from the date the Stones did in Canada. He was really adorable. Also a very happy guy. I think his wife was taking the videos with her phone.

Yesterday was also the month-ending review in my Italian lessons and I only got one wrong answer out of 100, so that was really cool. I have no clue how I did that, gang. But it was exciting.

It is a stunning day here. Some of the edits for Blessed By Light have come in from NY so I will focus on that and then, perhaps, just think about life! I’m supposed to teach piano later today but I’m not sure if that’s happening or not, because of it being a holiday week here. But we’ll see.

Meanwhile…

As promised, the Smashwords Summer Sale begins again today!  For the entire month of July, you can download any/all of my eBooks that are published on Smashwords — for FREE.

Posted below are the direct links. And, as always, here is my Extreme Cautionary Warning to those readers who have only known me as a script writer:

Freak Parade and The Muse Revisited Volumes 1-3 are exceptionally explicit (award-winning!) literary erotica, often with bisexual BDSM themes and with overtones of what is now termed  “questionable consent” (i.e. consensual rape). These titles are not aimed at the average reader and could be considered upsetting or extremely offensive.

However, Twilight of the Immortal is historical fiction, not literary erotica.

If you’d like to know more about any of these titles before downloading, use the drop down menu on the  upper right of this page, under “About Marilyn Jaye Lewis”.

Here are the links to my titles on Smashwords:

All righty! I’m gonna get an early start here. I leave you with this today. From Hypnotic Eye, Tom Petty’s final album with the Heartbreakers, from 2014, “Sins of My Youth.” I think it sort of sums up a lot of what happened all over the place yesterday.

Have a great day, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang! I love you guys so much. See ya.

“Sins Of My Youth”

You will find no wicked way in me
Look me over, you will see
You will find no weary change
I’m worn and wounded,
but still the same

Whoa……
Let me tell you the truth
I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

When the past gets up in your face
Memories slide out of place
All those things that were hidden away
Ain’t so bad in the light of day

Whoa……
Let me tell you the truth
I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

You say you love me
wish you’d like me more
I’m no angel that’s for sure
Said you forgave me,
each time I was caught
But you still paint me as somethin’ I’m not

Whoa……
Let me tell you the truth
I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

c – 2014 Tom Petty