Sake please

Today, Donna George Storey takes us to Japan for the vegetarian portion of our moveable feast. I'm out all day today, but I will slip off my shoes later to enjoy.

A small poem

Last year I put together a chapbook of my erotic poems as a gift for my husband on our 27th anniversary. There's one copy of it in existence. The poems naturally fell into seasons. This one is from the Winter chapter.

Spine

Fingertips trace a line

slow soft nape of neck

to hard tip of tailbone

message travels

at the speed

of impulse

breath catches

follicles tighten

toes flex

I guess poetry is on my mind because tomorrow I have an all-day workshop  where we sit around a table and talk poetry and eat and give each other feedback and just enjoy the time together. But tomorrow will be sad because it will be our first meeting since losing one of our members. He made a decision that left the rest of us reeling. And that is partly why I made my decision to give this other voice of mine - the erotic voice - it's freedom. That's not very eloquent, but it's all I have right now. 

TGIF indeed. Bring on the meat!

It's Friday and the feasting has begun! Meet you in the Mojave Desert for Kirsten Monroe's mouth-watering chipotle chile rubbed lamb chops with a cherry pinot sauce. MMmmmmmmmmmm 

But that's not all! First we can go skinny dipping in Cunning Gila Hot Springs while listening to Kirsten read to us. The revels continue over at the tent strewn with pillows to enjoy the main course with some potato dumplings in mole sauce (ooo, I love!), the wonderful wines and the entertainment. Maybe a naked run in the desert afterwards.

Oh, and to answer a very thought-provoking question. With enough wine, I'm sure the discussion will last into the wee hours. But it's Friday. We can sleep in before heading over to Donna George Storey's for the vegetarian course tomorrow.

Transported

It's a perfect day for being whisked away to a sensual, summery locale by Neve Black for the next course of the progressive dinner.

This evening we're on the beach of Ipanema, sipping rum cocktails and noshing on a delicious fish stew and talking zodiac signs and sex (of course!). Join us!

I don't have any fish pictures (they all got away), so the photo here is of jellyfish (not one of the stew ingredients - trust me!) - which I find to be very erotic to watch - this was taken outside a huge tank of these critters. They didn't hold still for a good pose though. ;-)

Now this is more like it!

For those of you who were somewhat disappointed with the inaugural poem by Elizabeth Alexander, here is one much more ... inspiring! I'd found it in The Best American Erotic Poems, edited by David Lehman.

At Seventeen  by Elizabeth Alexander

I just loved this -  "new memory like a seltzer in my crotch."

Sexy Mushroom Soup

On this snowy Wednesday, I'm going to be hanging out in the soup course at the blogland progressive dinner - today at From Socks to Fedora, It's Jeremy (or shouldn't it be from soup...?).

Jeremy and his lovely partner-in-eros, Helia, have some wonderful zinfandel, a great view, and the most arousing conversation. 

Beneath the Surface

Sand. A leaf. Stones.

One motif that seems to continually reappear in my all writing is my desire to look at what lies on the other side of some boundary.

Maybe a physical boundary, like the surface of water, or a wall with its doors and windows, or time itself.

The picture behind my blog title was taken looking straight down into a body of water that is very special to me. I love how in parts of the picture the surface disappears, and in others, the reflection of the sky can still be seen. 

It may be an emotional boundary - what will happen if I allow myself to truly be who I am, with no shame, no fear? 

It's very interesting to me, as I venture past the dividing line that separates

me when I was thinking about writing erotica/smut/porn/whatever

and

me now that I am (though still unpublished for the most part - I don't really count what I've posted here), is the level of comfort I feel with myself now. It's like I'm no longer denying a part of myself. The freedom I feel after I write something is compelling - now that I've started, I can't see what was holding me back. 

Nikki's Trailer - this is so cool!

Watch this most excellent trailer for the just released The New Rakes by Nikki Magennis. I love paper dolls!

Messin' Around

With my blog that is. 

I'll write more later after my walk (& before the snow starts) - and after I drop in over at Jeremy Edward's blog where Nikki Magennis is talking about her new novel The New Rakes. 

Craving Figs

Bad blogger. 

I've been so busy elsewhere today (except when trying unsuccessfully to upload a picture here this evening) that I neglected to mention the delectable appetizers over at Shanna Germain's blog - figs stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in proscuitto, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with pepper and served oh so warm - I have to make these! Oh, and I just remembered I have an all-day writer's workshop coming up this Saturday - guess I know what I'm bringing. Now to find figs - I'm pretty sure I saw them last time at the store (there is no longer any such thing as seasonal fruit, for better or worse). 

So, if you haven't partaken yet of the progressive feast ala blog, go here and check out the schedule. There might be some crumbs left. You'll have to use your fingers though...

Erotic Paint Colors

Nothing puts me in a better mood than what some more polite folks would call an "off-color" joke. Today's Zits comic in the paper (for 1/26/2009) was wonderful - I'm almost waiting for the outraged letters - "how could you run this in a family newspaper" type. I love the paint name (you gotta read the comic) - "Twisted Nipple" - good thing I wasn't drinking coffee at the time. And it immediately made me want to start coming up with erotic paint color names - think I'll start a list. After I finish reading the rest of the comics.

An amuse bouche and a kiss

Amorous. Anticipation. Appetite.

A kiss starts the "sensual and provocative progressive dinner ala Blog" over at Craig J. Sorensen's with the amuse bouche course - which literally means "mouth amuser" - a delightful image if ever there was one for the opening of an erotic blogland feast. This midwinter repast begins today and proceeds until Feb. 4 - each day a different course at a different erotica writer's blog. Conceived (cooked up?) by Donna George Storey and Kirsten Monroe, this looks to be quite the affair to keep us all warm on these chilly days.

It reminded me of a wonderful meal that my husband and I shared oh, some 26 years ago - I remember the "amuse bouche" (though it wasn't called that) more than anything else about the evening. It was the 5th Anniversary dinner at Cafe Beaujolais - 1982 (almost 27 years ago - it was the restaurant's anniversary not ours). Fire-dried walnuts and not-quite-ripe champagne served by the winemaker himself - John Scharffenberger  (yes, of both champagne & chocolate fame) - an evening that etched itself in my epicurean & sensual memory. 

I think it would be fun to present an entire meal composed of various amuse bouches. Just little things. A veritable orgy of brief bites. One of Craig's more amusing recipes (pun intended) is a Bay Leaf Fritter. I cannot wait to try these! 

Here's the full schedule:

Sunday January 25  Amuse-Bouche    Host: Craig Sorensen

Monday January 26   Appetizer    Host: Shanna Germain

Wednesday January 28   Soup   Hosts: Helia Brookes and Jeremy Edwards

Thursday January 29   Fish   Host: Neve Black

Friday January 30  Meat Entree   Host: Kirsten Monroe

Saturday January 31  Vegetarian Entree   Host: Donna George Storey

Monday February 2   Salad   Host: Emerald

Tuesday February 3   Dessert    Host: Sommer Marsden

Wednesday February 4   Petit Fours & Truffles   Host: Nikki Magennis  

   

Just some winter bitching and moaning

This picture has nothing to do with today - it's just a picture I took last summer and there is no snow or ice or road sand/salt to be seen. I miss the Pacific.

It's been one of those days. Busy, but nothing accomplished - or at least nothing that I'd really wanted to do (write). And it's days like this that make me question how serious I am about this - I need to make the time, right? Part of it's having the kids around - my son had mid-terms this week so he had short days and my college-age daughter is heading back to school this weekend. When you all hear a loud yippee! - that'll be me. I love my kids, but...  having them constantly around is NOT conductive to getting caught up in writing erotica. And the bedroom door does not lock - my main writing area is a corner of my bedroom. But I've got so many ideas just vibrating in my brain that it's distracting and frustrating - mom - what's for dinner?   (and guess who just walked in?)

But today in the mail came a pretty package from Alison Tyler - this one for the "Tie me up, tie me down" story contest last year (that makes it sound soooooo far away). But I couldn't even open it right away because it was my 15 year old son who had brought in the mail -hahaha. "What's the package?" 

So, I've got a number of deadlines coming up in the next week or so and I'm thinking I'll have to lock up my car keys so I don't go anywhere - just strap me to my writing chair - hmmmm? 

And it's time to go make dinner - homemade clam chowder tonight - lots of cream.

Foreplay with pencil

This was my entry in last week's contest over at Trollop with a Laptop - the topic was "writing." It's not quite a story, not quite a poem, not really sure what it is. I did enjoy writing it though. I started it in my little notebook I carry with me everywhere with the following idea - start slow with pencil and then ...  

sort of equating writing with sex. Not sure how well it worked. But it did okay - 3 votes. I seem to be consistent with 3 votes (sometimes I wonder if they're the same 3 people all the time - haha). My husband gave me a bad time for using "exegesis" -  oh well, I've been wanting to use that word for a long time.  ;-)

At least I didn't "peg the umbrella" in this one (see previous post).

Losing Her Composure

"I need your words," he'd said, "write to me."

And she did.

She pulled a small notebook from her back pocket, warm after being

nestled close to her ass, turned to a blank page. Began. 

First she used pencil, tip freshly sharpened and ready. Firm, pink

nubbin held tightly by a metal collar. 

Graphite, slick as black ice, curved sensuously

S - across the fibers

extended itself - E

X - reaching to touch in all directions.

Tentative, then bolder, pressing harder

to elicit a response,

make him

want

to read more.

Something snapped.

She grabbed a ballpoint pen from the jar on her desk. Scribbled

frantic circles at the edge and pushed on. Blue permeated page after

page. Her hands moved fast, formed blotted words, blurted words 

that made her blush. Too soon her pen was out of ink.

Moving to her computer, her fingers frothed over the keyboard. She

used each symbol in this, her exegesis of desire. Oblivious to the red

building before her eyes, all she was aware of was her breath coming

fast, her heart pumping faster, her wetness, her need to keep words

speeding across the screen toward the precipice where she knew she

wouldn't be able to stop she wouldn't be able to see she wouldn't be

able to know anything but this...

this teetering, this excruciating, unbearable moment just before she

hit 

send.

Pegging the umbrella

Last night my husband and I sat down and went over an old story that I'd sent him for editorial comment. He'd suggested that rather than just send me a marked-up copy, we should sit down together - more instructional that way. He's an editor in real life - this is NOT always a good thing - I've learned I have too much invested emotionally with my poetry to get feedback from him, but for some reason it's different with my erotica - and how many words was that? hahaha. I don't have a grammar and punctuation fetish as you'll come to know if you read this blog regularly. 

Not sure how many of these moldy oldies I'll drag out - this one was pretty bad - but good for a laugh. If anyone ever sees this particular piece, it will be completely changed. Trust me. We spent a fair amount of time going over this story (there was A LOT wrong with it) and laughed till we hurt. He would quick switch screens to eBay when one of the kids came down, which of course they kept doing because they heard mom & dad laughing. 

Early in the story the female lead hangs an umbrella on a peg. There is no reason for this to be in there, and hubby (hope he doesn't mind me calling him hubby) commented about her "pegging the umbrella" and we had a hard time regaining our composure. He says he wants credit for coining a new term if it catches on. "There you go, pegging the umbrella again." I kinda like it.  ;-)

Speaking of composure, my latest entry in Alison Tyler's contest was "Losing Her Composure," which I think I will post and talk about in my next blog entry. 

But for now, try not to peg too many umbrellas.

Welcome to the roller coaster

This morning I'm feeling much better - some good things are happening to help counteract the bad. I'm going to share what a friend said to me in an email I read first thing this morning. It put me in a better frame of mind and then I got an invitation that I might have turned down otherwise. I have a feeling that this is something we all (writers) need to hear every now and then.

"For you, I believe that writing is the right thing to do - even if you don't make any money from it. Not only do you need to write, all of us who read your writing need you to write - it's not fair for you to keep your gift from us, that is selfish and inexcusable. Please write, it's what needs to happen next. Write from the pit if you have to."

Thank you for that (you know who you are).  :-)

So now all I need is some TIME to write.

This fuckin' sucks

Earlier today I was thinking about how we use certain words. We hear bad news and say "that sucks" or we have a day that's "sucky." We get mad at someone or something and say "fuck you" or "fuck that!" or just "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" in frustration. The list could go on and on. George Carlin pondered this one for us long ago. I miss George - took my mom to see him live at the Circle Star Theater for her birthday when I was 18 - long time ago. Okay, that was a little side trip down memory lane.

Yesterday we got some bad news. There's been lots of bad news lately - for a lot of people - we're nothing special. And it sucks. That was my first thought. But then I thought about my writing - where suck means something much nicer. And then I thought about how my approach to life is changing with this new pursuit of mine (erotica). I'm already seeing ... how can I say this? ... I see more possibilities than I had before. Empowerment through porn? Hahaha. We shall see. But thinking up erotic story lines is a whole lot better than sitting around worrying and feeling sorry for myself. 

"Let's bungle in the jungle"

That Jethro Tull song popped into my head the other day. On Monday, my husband and I went into NYC so I could finally get him to the Museum of Sex. The current exhibition is The Sex Lives of Animals which was fascinating. It's a serious science exhibit that would make a great educational field trip but since you have to be 18 to get in I guess that's not gonna happen. Everything they didn't teach us in Biology 101 - seems there isn't much that isn't "natural" if you believe Nature is natural. Some things I knew -  about panda porn and homosexual behavior in animals and horseshoe crab orgies. And though there was a lot I didn't "know" before - nothing really surprised me - except maybe the banana slug chewing off it's own penis which is as long as it's body. Huh? There was video too. 

I'd like to tell more, but I've run out of time here ... to be continued.

Heartbroken...

...that I haven't had any time to blog that is. I've been so busy that I've not even gotten the last story up - and that was what? ... more than a week ago. That old Guess Who song is going through my head "ain't got got got no time"  - umm, is my age showing? 

So before I move on - speaking of age - to talk about my fun NYC day (with pictures if I can manage that) - let me post my entry for Alison Tyler's "Heartbreaker" contest. Sommer Marsden penned my favorite - "She Deserved It" and reading mine you can figure out why. 

Dreamer

"He's fucked up, you don't want that," my friend said.

"Yes I do." I told her.

I want you. Have for a long time. We've never even kissed - and I oh so want to. I've dreamt of your tongue. I want to feel your hands on my skin, your lips on my throat. I want to explore your body, touch you in ways that no other woman has. Just thinking about what might be ... if we ... oh ... hell ... now I'm wet.

Just then Heartbreaker came on the radio. "That damn song is gonna be stuck in my head now." I said.

"Yeah, it does kinda have that sticky quality to it." she replied.

"But I want to release my inner fantasy. " I quipped.

I like sticky. I like messy. I want it. Want our saliva and sweat to mingle. Want to lick that drop of salty nectar from the tip of your excited cock. Want you to taste me before and after we fuck ourselves silly.

"Don't dare tell him," she advised, "it's better he never knows."

"Stop being my conscience. Maybe I'm sick and tired of being miss goodie two shoes. I know all about the arguments against and I still want him. And yeah, I know I'm married."

"Don't go there." she warned.

I smiled. Oh, I've gone there. In my dreams it's quite nice. Both of them. With me. Hands. Fingers. Lips. Cocks. Makes me dizzy just thinking ...  

"Take a cha-cha-cha- chance"

Got that Beatles birthday song playing in my head this morning. Yup. It's my birthday. It got off to a wonderful start right after midnight (hmmm, what could I have been doing then?) and got better with news in my inbox - a poem published today - though that's my other persona so can't mention where here. Dare I hope for a whole day like this? 

YES!

Got great plans and I'll post all about it later - maybe even with pictures. 

What'll They Think?

Yesterday I had some moments of self-doubt which spilt over to this morning, well, this afternoon. I'm new at this erotica writer thing (well, the public part of it) and I started wondering how to take myself seriously and be proud of my writing while there are plenty of people in my life that I can't share this with (at least at this point in time). Some folks I'd never tell, haha, like my mother-in-law or those friends that are quite conservative and religious. Though I admit it does give me a perverse thrill to imagine them finding out that I'm doing this. Other folks I figure will find out in time. Maybe. Then I have the people who know - and so far they all have been supportive. Which is cool. And of course my husband has been very supportive - which is crucial. But I started to worry - yeah, I'm a worrier. What'll "people" think when (if?) they read something of mine that doesn't fit their perception of me? More importantly, how will I handle that? 

I took a walk this afternoon - it was damn cold but pretty after the ice storm yesterday - and sorted some stuff out in my head. Walks are good for that. I'm not feeling quite so doubtful right now - I spent some time this evening checking out other writer's blogs and enjoying reading the comments and posting a few myself - seems to be a nice group of folks. And I realized that writing erotica "fits" me. I've always had a filthy mind (one track my husband has always said) and it'll be nice to give it some creative outlet. So, guess we'll see. I tend to be a take 3 steps forward, run 2 1/2 back kinda person (on a good day). I guess that's still forward motion, right?

I plan to post fun stuff here (and get some pictures going too) - but I also intend to ponder serious matters too. This will be interesting.

Metaphor of fabric

 Today was not spent writing, but rather working with a couple of friends on a quilt project. I've never quilted before - not really - there was that PTA project too many years ago to remember...

This project is different because it is related to writing. In one of my other lives I'm a poet and late last year one of our circle, a dear friend, took his own life. Grief has a funny way of handing you a magnifying glass and forcing you to look at how you are living. That's partly why I'm here now - I'll be damned if I waste any more time being "afraid."

One friend is a fantastic quilter and she suggested we do a lap quilt to present to our departed friend's lover. And it's interesting how metaphor works as well in fabric as in words. Maybe when it's done I'll post a picture of it here - it's going to be beautiful - just like my friend. I miss him tremendously.

Happy Still Pretty New Year!

Well, I just sent off my very first "official" - or whatever you want to call it - submission of my erotica for an anthology. I'd say "wish me luck" but at this point I kinda think I'm talking to myself here. But this was a big step for me. So I'll toot my own horn. The thing I worried about the most was all those little stupid things that are so easily overlooked like an extra space or two periods. And of course I could revise forever. But there comes a time to set it free. 

Wow. I fucking did it! I sent off a piece of my dirty writing in hopes that maybe somebody else will like it too. Now onto more mundane things like going to the grocery store.