Tag Archives: erotica

Day #2 On the CBD Oil !!

The neck pain is absolutely gone. Yay.  And I’m not quite as “relaxed” as I was yesterday morning, but I am still very relaxed and in an incredibly great mood. So we’ll just see how it progresses.

Anything to stay off of Advil and Tylenol.

The best news of all, though, is that we FINALLY have the cover art fixed for The Guitar Hero Goes Home, and the formatting is also fixed. So that didn’t take too long, right? Just a couple of fucking months.

But I am just so happy, gang. Even though the eBook has been fine from the beginning, I am finally feeling like the “book” is actually done. Another “baby” alive in the world for me. To live indefinitely. I never get tired of that feeling.

The first time I went from being published in underground zines, to being published in an actual book,  was when I sold the story “The Birthday Party” to Masquerade for an anthology called The Unmade Bed (1997):


9780739406519: THE UNMADE BED Twentieth Century Erotica

And I was so excited.  What an incredible thrill. And it wasn’t my best story — it was really tame compared to what I normally write — but it did seem to be popular, and it went on to get published a few more times over the years. But I can’t remember where. I know Alyson Tyler published it in The Happy Birthday Book of Erotica, or something like that. And it’s in one of the Muse Revisited collections.

(I’m a really great sales person, aren’t I? “It’s out there somewhere, all you have to do is find it. Let me know how it goes.”)

When my first book came out, (Neptune & Surf, also from Masquerade), I was over the moon!!  And since for whatever reason, Wayne (my husband at the time) wasn’t willing to celebrate with me, I went out for drinks with Christy Cassidy and Nan Kinny — and Nan was one of my absolute heroes, a true role model for me. I just loved her. (She’s not dead, they just moved away and I haven’t seen either of them in ages.) Nan was one of the founders of the legendary On Our Backs magazine, the first hardcore dyke BDSM porn magazine. It was out of San Francisco. And I just worshiped her and what she had accomplished with that magazine.

ON OUR BACKS; Entertainment for the Adventurous Lesbian Vol. 11, No. 01,  January/February 1995: (1995) | Alta-Glamour Inc.

Anyway, Christy and Nan were both really happy for me. And it was the very best feeling, having a book come out. And I never get tired of the feeling, gang. I absolutely never do.

Although, one thing I will say is that, usually, no one celebrates with me. The only people who are excited for me are people who are colleagues in some way — in the industry. “Regular” people — friends and family –always distance themselves from my books. Even people that I’m very close to — friends/lovers who might have stories or whole books dedicated to them, or serve as the inspiration for some of my early stories. No one wants to be publicly connected to what I write. Which makes me  sad, but I’ve gotten used to it. And I find ways to celebrate on my own. So this is how I celebrated last night!! (We’re drinking CBD tea!!) (Just kidding…)

80 Best Antique /Vintage Child's Tea Sets images in 2020 | kids tea set,  vintage children, childrens tea sets


So. I’m going to get started here. It is a really lovely fall day here in Crazeysburg. I hope it’s equally lovely wherever you are in the world today! Thanks for visiting. I’m leaving you with two things — the same song, but two different titles, and two different singers. “Weeping Annaleah” by Tom Jones, and “Sleeping Annaleah” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. (A song written by the great Mickey Newbury and Dan Folger.)  Contrast and compare!! And enjoy. All righty. Have a great day, wherever you are!  I love you guys. See ya.

Goodness Gracious!

Yesterday, I was having some minor pain issues in my neck and that hip joint again, so rather than take Tylenol or Advil, which I hate to take, I decided to try CBD oil for the first time.

Well, it actually works just fine as a pain medication but, man, does it relax me.  (Translation: I don’t feel like doing a fucking thing!)

I’m not sure if I’ll take it again, or not. I guess we’ll just wait until I get more pain issues, since it does indeed work for pain. But me feeling truly relaxed is not a sight that is often seen…

So I got nothing done on the new erotic short story yesterday (“Novitiate”). I hope today will yield even a tiny bit more than that! We shall see.( I’m still feeling rather relaxed and I took the CBD oil yesterday.)

I did get a sample of what the postcard announcing the reading of  my play is going to look like, though. It’s different from the other image I posted recently (I see there is a typo, so ignore that):

The “New Heritage” group is the Harlem production company. So I’m excited, gang!!

And I also found this exciting, although it has nothing to do with me. The discovery of a 2000-year-old mikveh (Jewish ritual bath) in the Lower Galilee — this is from the Second Temple Period in Israel, the time of Jesus. And of course the Galilee was the area Jesus practiced in. You can read the details of the excavation by the Israel Antiquities Authority here. The mikveh is in the lower right hand corner. It was found on the property of a 2000-year-old farm.

The farm with the ritual bath (lower right). Okay, well, there is absolutely nothing else going on here right now because I am sort of in la-la land.  I’m hoping this will change at any moment!!

Meanwhile, I’ll close this and drink some more coffee and stare.

I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, whatever you’re doing and wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting!! I leave you with a song I was thinking about here this morning. I’ve posted it on the blog before, but here it is again. Sometimes I take this song really personally:  “Waiting for You” from the Ghosteen album by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds (2019). Lyrics are in the video. So listen (and read along) and enjoy!! I love you guys. See ya.

I Actually Have Nothing to Say!

I spent the entire day yesterday at my desk, working on “Novitiate” — the new erotic short story — and so nothing new has occurred since I blogged here yesterday morning.

I did not even have time to watch the rest of the Ronnie Wood documentary, Somebody Up There Likes Me (and if I don’t get to it here soon, I will miss my window and won’t be able to watch it without paying for it again).

I was writing clear through last night, right up until it was time to do yoga and then collapse in bed.

I’m only at 6000 words in the new story, but I’m finding that I have to keep going over and over and over these first 7 pages, because after that, it’s going to become extremely complicated. (It goes from 2 primary characters up to 15, and all of them are having sex at one point or another, so that’s gonna get kind of complicated.) So those first 7 pages have to lay some sort of believable groundwork for the remaining insanity.

I’m still really loving the story, though. And I am learning more about it  every moment that I work on it — meaning, it reveals itself to me, more and more, as I continue to streamline these first few pages. I’m finding it so interesting. And so different from what I thought it was first trying to be.

I think I mentioned a few days ago that now the editors don’t really want “Half-Moon Bride” in this story collection. They want to offer it as a stand-alone short story (eBook only). I will let them make the final decision. But the more I work on “Novitiate,” the more I think that “Half-Moon Bride” doesn’t really fit with the other stories that will be in this collection.  So perhaps it is best sold on its own.

Other than that microscopic world of mine…

The petunias are still blooming. It’s amazing. 5 months now, and no end in sight. I’m guessing they will keep right on blooming up until the first frost. But it is so weird to see the porches of all my neighbors and all that autumnal stuff going on there, for as far as the eye can see. And even though I cleared off my front porch and my back stoop, my kitchen porch is still a riot of blooming colors because I concentrated all the flower boxes there. And I really feel like I’m in some sort of time warp here — or “season” warp. (And, God knows, that in my mind, I’m always thinking it’s still summer, so it doesn’t help when everything in and around my house only encourages my misinterpretation  of the entire world.)

I can’t emphasize enough how different my life got when I moved into this house (going on 3 years now). It’s all good, but it’s all strange. I really, really do love living here, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life,  but my life has gotten more and more dissociated. And even though I’m sort of accustomed to being in a dissociated mental state (for a variety of reasons), when my house starts joining me in that, it gets really difficult to explain.

You know, when I first walked through this house, I felt so much happiness in every room. I really did. And I just knew that people had been really happy here. (The house is now 119 years old — when it was first built, there was no electricity, no central heat, and no running water. Two bathrooms were eventually added on, many decades apart. And the well outside was covered up, and the fireplaces that were in every room were eventually covered up.) I still believe that people were happy here — and I still believe really strongly that at least one spirit connected to building this house is actively around here.

But I was reading recently, in a metaphysical type book, that what we perceive about a place is our own future happiness. We are perceiving the happiness of our future selves. Which I think could be true, too. I’m certainly incredibly happy here. But I do think it’s a bit of both.

Anyway, that said. Come visit!! I need help cleaning out the barn…

All righty. I’m going to get moving here. Maybe watch the rest of the Ronnie Wood documentary. Or maybe work on the new story, or maybe sit and stare and drink my coffee for a while. We shall see. (Smart money is on the latter, I think.)

Thanks for visiting, gang. I hope you have a great Monday unfolding before you, wherever you are in the world. I’m still in a More of the Monkees frame of mind around here, so I leave you with another great song off that album, one that still brought tears to my eyes this morning, even 53 years later… “Sometime in the Morning” (1967). Listen, relax, ponder, and enjoy. I love you guys, See ya!

Wow! What A Difference Not Eating Broccoli Makes!!

First of all, I’m in a much better mood today, gang — like, 1000%.

Part of it was that I wasn’t actually feeling so great yesterday. (In addition to the emotional weirdness brought on by the chairs — see yesterday’s post, if you so desire. Otherwise — onward; don’t look back!!)

I take a lot of digestive enzyme supplements and probiotics  in order to be able to digest broccoli. I don’t actually like broccoli, but I have noticed an amazing difference in how my brain focuses after eating broccoli, so for YEARS, I have tried to eat broccoli (blanched) at least once a day. But I can’t digest it.

Well, then I noticed that none of the digestive enzyme-type things were actually helping — and in fact, some new ones I was taking seemed to be making matters worse.  I was in abdominal pain for about 24 hours. And then, finally, yesterday, it occurred to me to just stop eating broccoli. So I didn’t eat it. And without eating broccoli, I no longer needed all the extra enzyme stuff to try to digest it.

And today, I feel 100% fine.

Can you believe it took me that long to figure out that I should just stop eating broccoli??? It is so weird, the things we force ourselves to believe sometimes — i.e., broccoli is good for me so I need to eat it.

Anyway. Even though I felt truly horrible all day yesterday, I did get some great work done on the new erotic short story, “Novitiate,” so I’m hoping that today will be the same.

It’s turning out to be a very interesting story — it’s taking on a shape and tone that I hadn’t really expected at first. So my decision to get out of the story’s way, and stop being an emotional roadblock to it, turned out to be a really good idea.

I tell you, gang — stories really do know how to tell themselves if we can get out of their ways and just write.

I’m also finding that The Monkees’ records make a terrific soundtrack for writing “Novitiate” by — the story takes place in the summer of 1966, on the cusp of Free Love and those kinds of ideas. And for me, those old Monkees’ records have the perfect sound for that era, since I listened to those records a lot from 1966-1968.  I’m finding that the second album, specifically — More of the Monkees — just lets the whole story open up in my head. (More of the Monkees is actually a really, really great album. It was recorded in 1966 and then released in January 1967. It’s the album that has their fantastic version of Neil Diamond’s “I’m A Believer” on it.)

The Monkees -- More Of The Monkees (1967) Full Album | The monkees, Rock  album covers, Album covers

So I am once again in a really good place.

I did get a chance to listen to the first piece off the upcoming Nick Cave – Nicholas Lens collaboration, L.I.T.A.N.I.E.S (due in December). The piece is titled “Litany of The Forsaken.” It’s quite hypnotic, although I’m not 100% sure, yet, what it’s about.

Nick Cave and Nicholas Lens Collaborate on New Opera L.I.T.A.N.I.E.S |  Pitchfork

I also rented the new documentary film on Ronnie Wood, the Mike Figgis-directed  Somebody Up There Like’s Me.

Somebody Up There Likes Me - The Fellowship and Star

I watched about 20 wonderful minutes of it last evening, when suddenly the buffering would not cease. I’m guessing thousands of people all over the place were streaming it at once. (Saturday night, 8pm.) So I’m going to try to watch the rest of it at a less popular movie-streaming time. I was really enjoying it, so, that on top of not feeling well sort of sucked.

But ever onward we go, right?

Okay. So, I’m gonna get started here. I hope your Sunday is shaping up to be a really great one, wherever you are in the world!! I’m leaving you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning, “Mary Mary” from  More of the Monkees. It was actually written by Mike Nesmith in 1966 — he was one of the Monkees. It’s a great song, guys. So turn it up! Listen and try not to dance!!!! (Full disclosure: I was dancing all over the kitchen this morning at 5am, in my PJs, while listening to this and feeding the cats!!) All righty. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

In Honor of World Mental Health Day, I Guess

My mood is totally tanking around here.

I awoke in a reasonably good mental space. Not 100% sure why it’s tanking — and tanking so rapidly. But I think it has something to do with the  2 chairs I acquired yesterday.

This is not one of the chairs but they look exactly like this:

Antique Ladder Back Chair with Rush Seat | Antique ladder, Ladder back  chairs, Chair

I love ladder back chairs, and the 2 that I got yesterday are really old and really well made.

They came from that little house across Basin Street from me. The son was getting rid of what little was left in the house, and I was, like,  “You’re kidding! Two extremely well-made chairs that I love, just for free? Just like that?”

And of course, I was also thinking: What a relief. You can never have enough chairs for the dining room, once you put the leaf in the table. You always need extra chairs.

And I was really just so happy to have these chairs. And I put them in the dining room, against the wall, and I was just really happy. They are so well-made.

And then this morning, it was that thing that happens to me all the time — where I realize that the world in my head has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the life I actually live nowadays. I don’t need more chairs. No one ever comes to visit me. I never have dinner parties anymore. And it has nothing to do with COVID, either.  On those rare times when my birth mom comes here, or my sister comes over, we always sit at the kitchen table. Other than that, no one ever comes over and the other rooms in my house are occupied only by cats. (The cats have not said, yet, whether or not they like the new chairs.)

Anyway, I guess that sort of started me on a little downward spiral. Not so  much the idea that I don’t entertain anymore (or even cook), but the idea that the world in my head is so different from the world I’m actually living in, in the physical.  Even though I know this has been happening to me — I’d even say “increasingly” — since moving into this house, sometimes it really just jolts me. The old life is gone. Even though the life I have now is the one I actually love, the old life is gone and probably isn’t coming back.

It’s just a weird feeling.

I must add here that the latest virus stats were released for this area yesterday, and the county where I do all my marketing had a slight resurgence — 177 active cases (this is still really good compared to where it was at all summer). But here in Muskingum County, we have only 99 active cases, and here in the zip code area where I live (a zip code is an area serviced by one specific post office), we have zero active cases. Yay!! And Muskingum County has still only had 3 deaths from the virus since the outbreak. (This compares to 166,000 currently active cases of the virus in the entire State of Ohio, and a total of 5000 deaths, overall.)

So, you know, this weird world I live in in my head, where everything is just really beautiful all the time, is compounded by the fact that Muskingum County exists in some sort of make-believe place, too.

The whole thing is just really weird.

I don’t suppose there is any real harm, at this point, in living 2 parallel lives that will never meet: the one in my head, and the physical one that I “live.” And I don’t suppose there’s any real harm in the fact that I seem to be regressing way past 12, to about 7 or 8 years old now — judging strictly by my current daily/nightly interests in life (see a post from a few days ago).  (BTW, I am finally remembering to do yoga at night now, but I only do it while I’m streaming reruns of The Monkees.)

The main thing that really sticks out in all this is, of course, my really grown-up car.

In the past few days, I have gotten several very nice compliments about my car. (The molten lava -colored Honda Civic that still looks brand-new but is in fact a year old now. Like me, the car is curiously not aging.) Even though I accept the compliments about my car graciously, it was foisted upon me by the Honda dealership. Plus, I think that St. Christopher (to whom I actively pray whenever I get into any moving vehicle), had some sort of hand in getting me that car because he probably thought it was dangerous enough to have a 12-to-7 year-old girl out driving, she should at least have a safe car (that is sparkly red and goes really fast).

Anyway, it all adds up to me just feeling really crazy;  as if “reality” and “me” do not seem to ever intertwine anymore. And, actually, maybe we never did.

It gets a little depressing.  I’m making sort of a joke about it here on the blog, but I am starting to find it a little alarming in my non-blog life. That said, though, life does indeed go on.

I’m planning to spend the entire day at my desk working on the new erotic short story, “Novitiate.” Try to move that forward because, so far, I’m not making the progress on it that I would like to make.  I still find that I’m battling myself a little bit in how to put this story onto the page. Not so much censoring myself, as trying to determine if where the story keeps wanting to go makes any real sense.  And rather than trusting in the process of the story’s innate knowing of itself, I have decided to become some sort of roadblock to that unfolding.

And I really wish I would stop doing that. I am hoping today will be the Big Day where I can get out of the story’s way.

(I guess that being a roadblock to anything can also be a source of depression.)

So I’m hoping that today will be a day for moving on. If we were to judge it solely by how I’m feeling right now, well — it’s not looking too promising but the day is young!

Okay. Yesterday, Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand File that was really moving. You can read it here. And the Nick Cave Instagram site released an announcement that a collaborative album he made with the Belgian composer, Nicholas Lens — titled L.I.T.A.N.I.E.S — will be released in early December, and one piece from it has already dropped: “Litany of the Forsaken.”

(And do yourself an enormous favor, if you go searching for the album on Amazon, remove all those periods between each letter, otherwise you will make yourself fucking insane and never find it.)

Okay!!! On that happy note…

I’m outta here. I hope you have a better Saturday underway, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang!! Today, I leave you with my anthem — okay, maybe not my actual anthem. I don’t think I really have one. But it will probably be played at my funeral, or at the very least, my wake. I’m sort of a “medium” U2 fan. I have several of their albums. But I’m not, like, a huge fan.  But I do love this song — it’s probably my favorite of theirs: “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” (1987, off The Joshua Tree). So I leave you with that. Enjoy. Lyrics are in the video. I love you guys. See ya.

A Lovely Morning So Far!!

For whatever reason — I guess the Autumn Equinox — I now get up at 4am and get out of bed! Whereas, I used to get up at 4am and just lie there for an hour.

Anyway, luckily, I was more than wide awake at 5am for the Bad Seed TeeVee chat-a-long to the Lawless soundtrack (Nick Cave & Warren Ellis). (I will say it again: that is such a beautiful soundtrack, gang; so atmospheric.)

It was fun. At one point I looked at the number of people in the chat and it was something like 900, but most people weren’t actually chatting. So it wasn’t completely insane.

And now it is 7am here and still completely dark out. So you really know it’s fall.

I spent a good chunk of my afternoon yesterday with Kevin, the director of my play (Tell My Bones) and his husband, Chris. So I did not get as much done on the new erotic short story as I had hoped. About 4 or 5 hours, at the most. It is still really challenging. I know what I want to say, but for some reason, I keep hesitating to say it — or write it, I mean.

(And on a side note — I spent about an hour chatting on the phone yesterday with an older gentleman I met through Gus Van Sant Sr. Well, we didn’t meet, we spoke on the phone about my play, via Gus. And at one point, I said something like, “I’ve been doing it a long time, already. I’m 60 years old…” And he said, “You’re kidding me! You sound like a kid!!”)

YAY!!!! Twice in one week…..

Oh, and, at one point yesterday, while I was talking to Chris about something, I noticed he was staring at my neck. I was wearing a sort of hippy-chick blouse that had a deep “V” neckline, and I didn’t ask him, but I just knew he was thinking: Man, no way does her neck look 60 years old….

(YES!! All those many miraculous skin products from France strike again!!) (Yes, yet again, another new product from France. First, they gave a jar of it to me for free. Then, they gave me another jar at half-price. We’ll see what happens after this, because it is really expensive but now I am hooked on it…) (As usual.)

1958 Beauty Ad, Avon Cosmetics & Skin Care Products, with 1950's Super-Model Anne St. Marie | Vintage makeup ads, Vintage cosmetics, Avon cosmetics
Me, yesterday!!! So youthful-looking!!!

Okay, anyway.

So, yesterday was nice even though I didn’t get enough work done on the new story. And I did finally get to chat with Valerie for the first time since her mom died. And the weather was just really, really lovely yesterday. All the trees have changed colors and it was mild enough to not need a jacket or anything. Just perfect weather. It was really a nice drive over to Kevin’s mansion on the hill.

So today, we will try again to make some significant headway with the new story. I guess what we really need is to make headway with myself — get myself to stop hesitating and just write the story the way it is asking me to tell it. Because the story is all up here in my head. I’m the one who is laboring over how to tell it. So we’ll work on that.

As of, like, right now.

So, thanks for visiting, gang. I hope you have a really nice Friday, wherever you are in the world.  Last night, I was listening to the 6 songs that have now been dropped for next week’s upcoming release of Tom Petty’s Wildflowers & All the Rest. (Listening to them over & over, actually. In my bed , in the dark. Thinking about life. And, of course, death, because now I can’t stop thinking about one without the other.)  And I really love that song, “Leave Virginia Alone.”

Today, I’m gonna leave you with Rod Stewart’s version of it, though. He had a hit with it back in 1995.  Listen and enjoy. I love you guys. See ya!

“Leave Virginia Alone”

Well they chased her
Down the alley
And over the hill
To steel her will
She was as hot as
Georgia asphalt
When the A-crowd came
To adore her brain

So leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She’s not like you
And me
She’s not like you
And me

You should’ve seen her
Back in the city
Poetry and jewels
Broke all the rules
She was as high as
A Georgia pine tree
Makeup and pills,
Overdue bills

So Leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She’s not like you
And me
She’s not like you
And me

Some sunny day
When the hands of time have
Gone their way
You’ll understand
Why it was so hard
To run away
To run away

She’s a loser
She’s a forgiver
She still finds good
Where no one could
You ought to want her
More than money
Cadillacs and rust
Diamonds and dust

So Leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She’s not like you
And me
She’s not like you
And me

Ah, yeah
Leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She’s not like you
And me
She’s not like you
And me

Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ,…

La, la, la, leave her alone

Oh, Virginia
Oh, Virginia
Leave her alone

© 1994 Tom Petty

Okay, I Confess!

I do not seem capable of not posting to the fucking blog in the  morning!!!

Plus, I wanted to move yoga back to bedtime — before I take my shower and go hang out in bed, I want to do yoga. That’s when I used to do it for quite a long time and it is really relaxing to do that.

I managed to do that on Tuesday night — no problem. I even turned out the regular lamps and turned on my little Himalayan pink salt lamp for “spiritual ambience”  in my beloved bedroom. And it was really fun.

However, last night….

ME (in my shower): Fuck! I forgot to do yoga…

So, you know. I guess we’ll just see.

Part of my conundrum here is that the new erotic short story, “Novitiate,” is actually kind of intense. And posting to the blog first gives me a little bit of a buffer. I don’t have to plunge right into the intensity of the story the moment I sit down at my desk.

I know I keep saying this about each of the new short stories — or novellas — that I’ve been writing, that they’re intense. That they push the boundaries and all that. Even though, throughout my entire 30-year career of writing erotica, I have almost always pushed the boundaries. Mostly because, in the beginning of that career, most people were not anywhere near as politically correct as they are now and so there weren’t any boundaries to really push. Readers expected certain storylines in erotica, and that was that.

But that said, my writing has evolved into something sort of relentless. Even though I hope that readers still find it really fun — it takes a lot out of me to be true to the writing of it. More often than not, while I’m writing “Novitiate,” I am quietly saying to myself: Oh my god, are we really going to go there?

This new story takes place in the summer of 1966 and is basically a week-long gangbang at a private campground.

For a change, though, no one at all is a virgin!!!! But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have my typical female character getting in over her head really quickly, because that’s basically all I ever write about!!!

It’s amazing just how many varied and intense stories I’ve managed to come up with over the space of 30 years where a female character can get in over her head really quickly.

Anyway. I guess I’m just rebelling against the intensity of the censorship that has been closing in increasingly on erotica over the last ten years. (And it has come from the “Liberals,” in an odd twist of fate…) (15 years ago, it was the Republicans I had to watch out for; now it’s the Democrats. Which is why people like me absolutely need a viable Independent Party in the USA.)

However, I take courage (and I don’t use that word lightly) from all those amazing 3D hentai animators out there in the world because they are breaking almost every taboo that is applied to written erotica.  And so many of them are just so fucking good at it.

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I am a huge fan of 3D hentai monster porn.  And while bestiality is not one of the topics I have an interest in in real life (in all honestly, I think it’s abusive to animals), and while it is hugely taboo in erotica (unless you are writing in the realm of erotic shape-shifters), bestiality is all over hentai in the form of “monsters.”

For instance, 3D hentai werewolf porn is sort of incredible. It’s basically just very large dogs fucking very large-breasted girls. (Yes! Girls who have gotten in over their heads  really quickly and who are suddenly getting savagely fucked by dogs werewolves.)

One of the things I look for while watching hentai are the details. The backgrounds, the locations, the themes that recur over and over — and then look at the numbers of hits these things get (well into the millions of views per video). Because it gives me a really good idea of what younger people are into now. And one of the things that really amuses me is how often the girl- characters, who are basically being raped by monsters or dogs werewolves, are wearing really nice stockings and makeup and really pretty shoes.

Sometimes the makeup gets smeared a bit, you know. However, even while fucking dogs werewolves in every position imaginable, the creators of the scenes (99.9% are guys, I believe) make sure that nothing bad happens to the stockings or the shoes!!

If you’re a girl (such as I) and have spent of fucking fortune on expensive stockings over the decades (we won’t even discuss shoes!), you know that even being with a lover who’s non-canine  — right?

ME (feeling amorous): “Don’t fucking come near me until I change out of these stockings!! They cost me a fortune!!”

It doesn’t take much to completely ruin a really nice pair of stockings. The last thing you would want is a dog (or werewolf) even jumping up on you, let alone doing all that other stuff.

So that kind of thing, in animation, really just amuses me.

Anyway. I digressed a little.

My point was, that one of the things I really love about 3D hentai animation (when it’s not actually a video made for the Japanese viewing market, where genital censorship is the norm), is how uncensored and wide open the imaginations are of those animators. I just love the artistic freedom of it. I don’t love every single thing I watch, but I do love to see where the minds are going and see just how many millions of people are watching these videos.

It renews my faith in humanity.

That, combined with my new publishers, who only want erotica that does push the taboos (except of course, pedophilia), I guess my mind is finally rebelling against so many years of increasing censorship.

And I guess on that note, I’m ready to get to work here. Have a great Thursday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with some more Morgana King, this time “Mountain High, Valley Low.” Enjoy!! I love you guys. See ya!

Okay, I Don’t Know!!

That idea of switching the blog post to the evenings sure didn’t work out yesterday. Of course, I wasn’t expecting Eddie Van Halen to die and sort of skew my whole evening.

So we’ll just see how it goes.

I do feel really under the gun with the new erotic short story, though (“Novitiate”), although, now I’m not sure exactly what the editors at the publishing house want me to do re: “Half-Moon Bride,” (keep it as a stand-alone story, or include it in the collected stories) so I’m just trying to move forward with the new short story and get it done as quickly as possible. And then see what they decide to do.

Yesterday morning, Nick Cave sent out a Red Hand File. It was regarding an emotional stance that a lot of young radicals back in the late 60s and early 70s used to grapple with all the time:  meaning that they were so angry, disenchanted, overwhelmed by feelings of powerlessness in the face of society that they felt it was practically a crime to bring another baby into such an awful world. (And it did turn out, as Nick Cave suggests in his letter, that all those new babies coming into the world helped steer it into new and unexpected directions.)

On a personal note, though, I am one of those women who always, always, always wanted to have babies but wound up not being able to have a family. And whenever I see a young woman on the fence about having a kid or not, I am always really quick to point out to her that time fucking flies and women don’t have the luxury of just waiting indefinitely to decide. That the fertile years are over in a heartbeat. They really are.  Do it while you’re young and in love and have the energy.

Obviously, if a woman doesn’t actually want to have kids, ever, that’s a whole different thing. Don’t EVER have kids if you don’t actually want them. I’m just saying when a young woman is making herself crazy trying to decide — especially if her guy (or mate or significant other or husband) really, really wants to have a kid. Jesus Christ, I always tell her:  DON’T WAIT!!!!!

Plus, I also think it’s sort of egocentric to think that the state of the enormous WORLD is somehow something we’re uniquely responsible for. (If you look at world history throughout all of recorded time, there has never been a time of Utopia. It’s simply not what the world is about. We each live our own unique life within the enormous world.)

Anyway. I thought it was interesting. You can read it here.

Okay, well. Eddie Van Halen. What can I say? When I think of my life in NYC in the 1980s, the most amazing sense of joy and smiles and excitement and insanity and over-the-top fun — that was Eddie, and Van Halen, in general. Jesus Christ, talk about guitar heroes, right?

I realize he was 65 and battling cancer, and had lived a lot of years struggling with substance abuse, etc., but I still think of him as joy-filled “Eddie,” and it is such a shock to think that whole part of life is just gone now.

It’s also something Valerie and I talk about a lot. She and I are both officially in our 60s now — she had a close friend pass away very suddenly, right before her mom did, and her friend was only 61. It’s this feeling that once we start hitting our 60s, so many people decide to check out. They really do.

I get in that frame of mind a lot now — just thinking about what’s ahead of me, and is the best actually behind me now. And all that. And should I start winding things down and check out. (Not as a suicide, I hope, but I do believe on some deep Inner Being level, we make the decision to stay or to go, at any age.)

So, yesterday, is was, like — “On no! Not Eddie, too!” Another intense moment for the month of October…

Well, okay. I want to get some more coffee here and then get to work on “Novitiate.” I hope you have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with something fun from Van Halen’s multi-platinum monster album, Women & Children First (1980), “The Cradle Will Rock.” Turn it up and rock on!! I love you guys. See ya.

“And The Cradle Will Rock”

Well, they say it’s kinda frightening how this younger generation swings.
You know, it’s more than just some new sensation.
Well, the kid is into losing sleep and he don’t come home for half the week.
You know, it’s more than just an aggravation.
And the cradle will rock.
Yes, the cradle will rock.
And I say, rock on!
Rock on!

And when some local kid gets down, they try and drum him out of town.
They say, “You could of at least faked it, boy.”
At an early age he hits the street and winds up tied with who he meets, and he’s unemployed.
And the cradle will rock.
Yeah, the cradle will rock.
And I say, rock on!
Rock on!

Have you seen Junior’s grades?
And when some local kid gets down, they try and drum him out of town.
They say, “You could of at least faked it, boy.”
At an early age he hits the street and winds up tied with who he meets, and he’s unemployed.
His folks are overjoyed.
And the cradle will rock.
Yeah, the cradle will rock.
And I say, rock on!
Rock on!
Rock on!
Rock on!

© 1980  Eddie Van Halen, David Lee Roth, Alex Van Halen, Michael Anthony

A Quick Post

I’m going to be switching  when I post to the blog for a while. I need the early hours of the morning to work on the new erotic short story (titled “Novitiate”), and then do a final edit of the whole collection of stories, in order to get the book off to the publisher as soon as possible.

So, I will either post midday, when I’m getting a break, or I will post after dinner, when I’m done writing for the day.

That will be starting today!!

Before I go, though, the Nick Cave web site sent out a reminder yesterday re: the live online listen-a-long on Bad Seed TeeVee this Friday, Oct.9th. And this is the official time zone thingie. It appears I was wrong yet again, so I’m glad they sent that out!

“This will be a live event available worldwide at the following times on Friday 9th October: Sydney, Melbourne 8pm AEDT / Wellington 10pm NZDT / Paris, Berlin 11am CEST / London 10am BST / Sao Paulo 6am BRT / New York 5am EDT / Mexico City 4am CDT / Los Angeles 2am PDT”

Okay! So I’m gonna scoot and I’ll be back later! Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world!! I love you guys. See ya!!

As Always! Pussies Hard at Work Around Here!

Today is a much better day, finally.

I’m not sure what was going on with me since Friday, but it has officially cleared. And I feel like I’m back to being myself. I’m wondering if it was connected to the full moon, or if I was just nuts, with or without the moon. But anyway. It has passed.

My only trial now is that I am trying to stop using the Flonase. Every few months, I take a break from it because it is a steroid. However, it is the ONLY thing out there that really takes care of my allergies. So now I’m going through that thing where I can’t fucking breathe….

And I am doing laundry right now, even as I type! And sadly, the summer PJs are hanging to dry now and will be put away until late Spring.

Amazing how sad it makes me. When I was younger, I never gave a fuck about any of this kind of stuff, because I was always in such a hurry for life to happen, you know? I didn’t give a fuck what PJs I wore to bed — usually, back then, I only wore my delightfully pretty birthday suit to bed! I rarely do that anymore. Because, I’m, like 60, I mean 12. I mean SIXTY! Yes.

Here’s something funny. Yesterday, when I had that (amazing!!) phone chat with the CEO of the new publishing company I just signed with — I think she’s maybe in her late 30s, perhaps 40 at the most? Anyway, she said several times that she couldn’t believe I was 60, because of my voice. (I sound like I’m about 21. Honestly. Or maybe 12…)

I don’t know what it is.  My voice never matured. My personality certainly never matured. I know I don’t look 60, but I look, maybe 49 and a 1/2. I don’t really know. But what I do know is that now, alone in bed at night in the dark, more often than not, I’m streaming those reruns of The Monkees from my wee bonny girlhood.  (And I’m laughing — a lot.) And more often than not, when that’s over, I’m in the throes of some wonder-filled masturbatory frenzy.  Then I start chattering with my many cats, who I call “Silly Billies” because they like to chase each other around my dark bedroom the very moment I start to fall asleep.

And then I realize, you know — my God. I’m 60 years old. For Christ’s sake, I am really never going to grow up. Like, ever.

Normally, I don’t really notice “myself”, because I’m just me all the time.  But once I turned 60, back in July, I have started to sort of notice how weird I am.  I really did used to think that I would get married again one day, and all that stuff, and have some sort of conventional life. But I can’t even imagine anyone putting up with me at this point. It was hard enough for others to tolerate me back when I behaved just like the age I was.

I know! I would be a great match for, like, a really horny 12-year-old boy. But Ohio has these weird pedophile laws now…


Well, judging from some of the comments I’ve been seeing in the WordPress feed, a whole lot of bloggers were not happy with that sweeping change they made over to the new block editor. So I was not the only one freaking out Friday morning over the “loss” of my blog. I feel a little better knowing that. (I’m also really relieved that I found the tiny little button that leads you to the classic editor. Thank god. But for some reason, they sure don’t want you to find it.) (I thought it was called “Word” Press because it was supposed to be like using “Word,” and not like trying to blog from some weird template from outer space…)

Anyway, for now, it’s over and done. And today is also the day that I am allowed to start building the new site for Marilyn’s Room Books. But I don’t know if I’ll do that today, because now I need to get this new erotic short story written, and do a final edit to the whole collection, and get that off to the publisher as soon as possible, since I already signed the contract for “Half-Moon Bride.”

So that is what my plate looks like today; I hope yours is just as happy.

This Friday, October 9th, is that live chat thing on Bad Seed TeeVee.

I believe that I have at long last figured out that intense Australian time zone difference.

I think it means that I will be tuning in at 6am, US East Coast time. Luckily, I am always awake at 6 am.

I’m not sure how you feel about it. But I guess it all depends on your time zone.

All righty.  Well, the dryer is bleating at me to come attend to it now. So I will close this and get the day underway here.

Thanks for visiting, gang. I’m gonna leave you with what I think is my favorite piece from the Lawless soundtrack (mentioned in that announcement there above). I was once a truly fanatical devotee of Emmylou Harris’s. I had all her records, and I knew every word, every note, etc., etc. I just loved her. (I don’t not love her now, but all of Country music has just changed so radically since those days, and a huge chunk of what I used to love has split off into Americana. It’s hard to follow all of it now.)

Anyway, I leave you with “Fire in the Blood / Snake Song”, which was written by Nick Cave & Warren Ellis (yes! the very same Warren Ellis who launched an Instagram account a couple weeks ago and has posted, like, maybe 4 times…) and which features both Emmylou Harris and Ralph Stanley — who, if you didn’t know him, was an amazing bluegrass banjo player; just legendary, but he has since passed on.

Okay, so I leave you with that today.  Enjoy! I love you guys. See ya!

Fire in the Blood/Snake Song

Come walk with me through the pines
In the morning sun.
The birds are singing in the pines
In the morning sun.

Come stand with me, my darling one,
Among the trembling pines.
We feel His presence all around
Fire in the sky.

You can’t hold me, I’m too slippy,
I do no sleeping, I get wandering
You can touch me if you want to,
I got poison, just might bite you.

Lie in circle on the sunlight
Shine like diamonds on a dark night.
Ain’t no mercy in my smile,
Only fangs and sweet beguiling.

Future, he don’t try to find me
Skin I’ve been through dies behind me
Solid hollow wrapped in hatred,
Not a drop of venom wasted.

You can slip and try to find me
Hold your breath and flat deny me
Makes no difference to my thinking
I’ll be here and you start sinking.

© 2012 Nick Cave, Warren Ellis