I’ve Been There

the hardest part about being alone

or lonely

or without “that person”

is remembering

when i did.

i have had a great many

in my life.

that really wanted me.

they couldn’t stop thinking about me

i’ve had them call

or write

i’ve been surprised by them.

courted.

i have been adored

i’ve had men make love to me and mean it.

i know exactly what i am missing.

something happened along the way.

i couldn’t get a decent date

relationship had fallen out of fashion.

both sexes began to retreat. detach. or become apathetic

soon it was either lets be friends with benefits.

or we can be friends.

or more so,

lets just get laid.

i tried that on.

the sex only gig.

a flurry of men

for fuck sake

and nothing more.

what an empty and shallow thing.

what a waste of my great mind, my wild laugh and my creative brilliance.

and then, recent life happened

and i broke.

if someone approached me now for sex? lusted for me?

i couldn’t do it.

i wouldn’t even want to

writing that?

thinking that.

remembering when someone wanted me?

breaks my heart into a million pieces

I Can See That You Are Here

many say “i have been following you for a long time”

some later reveal that they have been a fan for a decade.

um.

i don’t know who you are

unless you tell me.

i can see ( via the blog traffic graph ) when folks are poking around.

some have been as of late. a bit more anywho. thanks.

traffic is generally low.

but so am i

so, i think its fair that i get what i give.

the other day i introduced myself to a local artist.

i gushed my affection for …

i have been a fan for 7 years.

and that person is here.

in my town.

took me weeks to get a 10 minute appointment

i was nervous

and way over enthusiastic.

i felt sortof stupid. pubescent awkward stupd

but i wanted and needed that person to know

the impact. the fascination. the longevity. the story.

does that matter to someone who has a zillion fans?

that person will likely never be my best friend.

or a friend even.

the knowing is now there.

i know you.

or you know me.

surface.

where have relationships gone?

people stop me.

i know you. they say.

they know my bearded face

or my around town photography.

6000 of them

one of me.

i don’t know them.

how could i?

i have been thinking a lot lately about the phrase “i’ve got your back”

i will vet a new date. is your interest vested?

like do you REALLY want to know me.

or is your interest a maybe, we’ll see interest.

i miss vested interest.

i come from abandonment.

i have symptoms of fetal alcohol syndrome

does the betrayal begin there?

if i think

i can list.

“you SO did not have my back ” 

i didn’t expect loyalty before i was born.

i didn’t expect this as a young girl

as a student

as a young lover

as a new wife

blind faith

victim

betrayal

triggers

a recent trigger and reminder was a memory of a friend.

back when i was a teen

where my intense family drama

created a life long fear in her

i never knew

woah.

the circumstance could have had been different

the entire family didn’t have to stand there and shame me

they didn’t have to be OK with what was going on

someone could have stood up for me.

years later i asked one sibling

do you not have a mind of your own?

not sure i really KNOW the “I’ve got your back” thing.

especially now.

do you think you are that person for someone?

is someone there for you??

i am fiercely loyal

if i feel an ounce of fleeting

my loyalty will wane.

trust shifts

i evaluate

or

reevaluate.

if there is silence. long silences

i make up reasons why it’s over.

why it won’t work.

why i am last.

a year ago i had a man and his dog for dinner

i was feeling especially vulnerable

i was horribly bitten at the time

the evening was effortless

fun even

haven’t seen him or his dog since

sigh.

he is the one who doesn’t date and has a dog instead

he has one of my books.

a year.

i realize that the difference between blog posts of 2019

and past years is that

this year i took on communicating in real time

current work,

current nudes.

current shit or triumphs

truth is

my current times are not that compelling.

perhaps i am not that interesting

in my real life not too many know about this blog

or my alter ego.

a few who do.

are critical.

not all.

just a few.

i have felt they don’t get it

or me.

below images of masturbation

a session of self touch of sorts

i think it’s rather beautiful

in its own

hey thats me sortof way.

maybe its so in my eyes only.

i found pleasure at least.

i’ve got this

i’ve got me

i’ve got my back.

 

 

 

 

 

When We Meet

lets see if any of you read this

recent posts have offered a variety of talking points

conversations aren’t happening.

whatever happened to conversations?

a certain someone needs to be heard.

sometimes fans reach out to me and get personal.

they then imply that we will meet.

in theory. why not meet?

i’ve met a few of you over this last decade.

in hindsight, not sure i should have…

further commentary on that …complicated. my part of it included.

the flurry of meeting was lovely. romantic. and indulgent.

friendship sustainable?

no.

the truth is most men are really not in a position to make a meet happen.

or more importantly they can not sustain a meet once it’s occurred

reasons for that lack of ready might include: uh – married, so so very many of you are married, financially not able – since meeting is at your expense, or the real reason: lack of intention.

this lack of intention i further describe as placating

as telling or saying what one thinks i want to hear.

men will say anything to have sex with me.

am I being arrogant in saying this??

or can the truth of it resonate?

men say to themselves. “give me some of that” 

i fall sometimes for the idea of meeting.

of having the attention i deserve

the feeling of cherish

the excitement of it all.

vs the reality.

the reality is something very different.

i am thinking at the moment of this writing of one very particular man.

i liked his appearance.

i liked his mind.

i liked how he paid attention to me.

he got me.

he knew which buttons to push.

he was sexy and he knew it.

simply.

i wanted to meet him.

he said he wanted to meet me.

In the throws of it all

my MIND met him in a variety of circumstances.

the fantasy of which

was delightful in one breath.

and, not so delightful in another.

i felt frustrated by what i couldn’t have.

i can’t go into a fantasy without visual appeal

can you??

i have taken up with a man or two and didn’t give their appearance much thought.

they were kind, and attentive to me.

they wanted to meet me.

i want folks to try me on.

i feel we should give others a chance.

they were very disappointed when I wasn’t attracted upon meeting them.

which felt pretty awful for both of us.

now, i think it’s of value to have a vetting process.

my fans say that they are very attracted to me.

even without my sharing my face.

you tell me that my images provoke.

men say they fantasize about me all the time

men imagine themselves with me

within my photography.

which i appreciate hearing actually

rather powerful.

or they tell me that my images are fodder for masturbation.

SIGH

 ( none of you use fodder and masturbation in the same sentence.  ) 

it’s to be expected i guess. after all i am nude. online!!

for me in reverse so to speak, it’s not your dick/cock that i want to be a part of.

( if i had a dollar for all the men that send me images of their anatomy. i’d have no financial problems )

UGH. please don’t do that.

again, do not send me images of your anatomy.

your hard whatever is the last thing I want to see.

i want to see YOU. your eyes, your lips, your hands. a beard and mustache if you have one…the shoes you are wearing.

show me something that that i can be drawn to

and then it’s your mind that i fall for.

how you GET me.

how you treat me.

what you are curious about.

how you desire me.

and then it’s WHO you are in the world.

are you up to something or are you bored and apathetic?

often the above goes to a sexual place.

makes sense when all the pieces are there.

i can’t really do the sex thing all by itself these days.

not like i use to.

it’s not enough

sex is not enough.

i ache

ACHE

for connection

a connection that cares.

or a connection that can sustain a care.

Fans care.

in their own way.

how they act on it is…

well, it’s what it is.

or isn’t. mostly.

i’ve said fleeting many times here.

men come and go.

whhhhooosh they are in touch, enthusiastically.

and then poof. they are gone. as quickly as they reached out to me.

most simply don’t have time for me.

or the energy.

or the reality.

most are not looking for something personal

they want something distracting. entertaining. immediate

they are hungry in their own way.

a meet. a real one?? shifts things.

a meet makes it real.

or if when we meet and it is in our minds

its a fantasy.

The plane was delayed. The airport was bustling. Around me the mix of people swarmed accordingly. some coming, some going. many arriving, more just getting to the next place. a blur. Airports are probably my most favorite people watching place. It’s how I survive the waiting. I make up stories about the folks before me. I began people watch story making as a young girl. I spent way too much time in airports. There goes mr and mrs green. here comes sir tall, flower dress lady has too much makeup on. oh, look…those two are kissing again. how lovely they are. i’ve never written my narrative down in the midst of a wait. perhaps i should sometime. i have had a banter with another or two where we narrate together. mr tall is nervous i say, the other then says, the battery on his phone died.  he’s sweating i say, he needs another coffee the other adds. And so it goes. 

I am meeting a stranger at the airport today. a handsome stranger. and I am very nervous. I told him to be in the moment when we meet. To pocket his cell phone and let the meet be. I don’t need to know you are getting off the plane. I will be there to meet you. Just know that I am waiting. I find the management of a phone and travel frustrating. I get that they can be useful. I completely get that. I just find them distracting. Folks forget to simply be. The plane will land. You will get off the plane and I will be there to meet you. I am a person of my word. 

90 minutes later the arrival is announced. He is here. Oh my gosh he is here!  I position myself out of the way, but stand in a place where I hope to be the first person you see once you walk into the arrival area. One by one others arrive. Delays make many anxious. Connections are now altered.

I see you first. Sauntering, casual, tossled hair…you are good looking. I like that. you look for me. I like that too. Our eyes meet. You stop. We grin as wide as grins can be. A pause in time. A moment for sure. You step up your pace. I feel a blush coming on as you near. You notice. and you say, oh my gosh you are blushing! I say, I am!! I then say HI there! You say HI. Your eyes are bright and warm. Inviting. Your right hand reaches for the hair at the base of my neck, you are taller then i expected, you smell of gum. and you pull me to you. you whisper in my ear. you are beautiful, you say. you are so beautiful. you’ve taken my breath away. You see me struggling as to what to say next. you kiss me. gently. lip to lip. touch. want, curious. i feel all of you near me, the kiss finds its way to hungry. Our lips are a good fit. I tremble. You say, wow. I grin. you grin back. we hold on to each other.

in my fantasy, i replay the kiss over and over and over.  in my collection of fantasies, there are lots of kisses. in my memory of real meets, those kisses get replayed in my mind as well.   

what a goof i am. what a hopeless romantic.

some kisses don’t make the instant replay. those kisses are not memorable. i hate that. some men are very good at replicating that first kiss. it’s like they get that a first kiss is worth repeating. i once met a man, older than I who had never kissed someone before. i was an eager lover back then. he said are all women this enthusiastic about kissing. I said, i have no idea. you tell me. this is when i found out he was a virgin. many years later he will tell me. a man always remembers their first time. You were that first for everything for me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fine Lines Of Fandom

i just took the best vacation.

i had no idea how much i needed it.

seriously.

i got to a place of nothing

a zone of relax

a chill to the ninth degree.

i stretched it out as long as I possibly could.

i got to the i deserve this place too.

which felt grand.

BUT

today is my first day back to reality.

my writing this afternoon.

is a space/place away from the to-do list

which is rather long.

but long in a good way.

like due course long.

i am beginning to realize how i craft my life.

and how great it can be,

when i craft things with what’s best for me in mind.

not trying to be preachy

i just feel some clarity.

perhaps that’s what vacations provide.

my son, an avid cyclist said recently, just because someone rides a bike doesn’t mean we are friends.  it does mean that we have something in common. and that’s a great place to start. I liked that perspective

i say to new people in my life/life. my real life.  I am happy to try someone on. i love meeting new people. However I am going to be quick to acknowledge that if it isn’t a good fit. I will probably move on. i have way too little emotional energy to be with something that isn’t working for me. i also tell them it’s me defining the fine lines. that it’s often not them. i am complicated. and still rather fragile. i know of some people who want to be closer to me. I can’t do that any longer with just anyone

as fleeting, ghosting, judging and stupid as people can be. or have been. i gotta say figure out the fine lines

there ARE the good ones. true to self folks shine. i want and need shiny. i want light. i want effortless. and when i am around effortless. it’s a breath of fresh air

i say all of this because over the last few months now over a handful of you  have shared an opinion. this opinion sharing feels like the crossing of a very fine line.

I went with the first commentary. i let it roll off my emotional shoulder

i did not feel judged.

i heard the thought.

i let it go

but then another shared their thoughts, and another, and another

and now …i feel a tad bombarded by unwanted opinions.

the opinion is about the hair on my face.

you are all entitled to your thoughts about the topic

i also get that i am in an open public place about it

a virtual space

but realize this.  if i am a person now with hair on her face.

this is who i am. it’s sortof not negotiable.

it’s like if a man goes bald.

he’s now bald.

i bet that it is highly unlikely that there is a single woman in your immediate circle of influence who has a face like mine. how much do you want to bet?

and if there is, i applaud that woman. and I applaud you. especially  if you intermingle socially with that person, and/ or if you share her with your other spheres of …people.

ya see, it’s one thing to know me, to say way to go lady, to think that it takes such courage to be me. but more often than not, i am not going to be included at family dinner.

this is happening folks. this is my reality.

this is the way it is for me.

so….get with the program

for some

this face of mine

is embarrassing.

when a man that you know goes bald do you tell that dude

i don’t like your shiny head?

do you say yeah your baldness isn’t doing it for me.

because some are saying that.

about my face.

it’s fucking rude when you get right down to it.

i get opinions

i get opinionated

i get having a point  of view

i get free speech

i also get grace.

have some grace for fuck sake

have some empathy

try my circumstance on sometime and see how it FEELS.

are you on my shit list because you shared this opinion of yours?

NO.

it does make me wonder what you were thinking.

outside of your distaste for the appearance of my face and all.

it certainly does not attract me to you

it does not have me trust the nature of our communications as nurturing, compassionate, kind and supportive.

perhaps some thoughts are better left unsaid.

the reality of all of this is many of us have known each other a very long time

a decade long time

you and i hanging out in real life??

highly unlikely.

so i am i am never going to embarrass you.

put your vote so to speak where it matters.

onto other things….

in my fantasies – i meet a nice guy who loves to cycle casually on sunday. he realizes that i cANt navigate a bike on my own. so he invests in one of these. as corny as a bicycle built for two is,  i adore the old fashioned sentiment. i like the idea of doing together in a way that works …considering all involved.

this gem of a bike was at a place i was featured at… as an artist. i sold some art and gabbed with people who felt curious about me and my work. very low ebb of an afternoon but lovely.

the memory of an old schwinn takes me to many places. i’ve had 3. only one had the glitter hand grips. she was a buttery brown.

i feel too vulnerable to ride a bike now.

i am not a pig tail gal. more of a braids person. on this day though i was lazy. i love the part in back because there is only a very small moment of the dark hair left that use to be my signature. the rest is silvered or turned of all things rather white. i love the contrast

i call these two shots pig tails and jasmine rice. it was a daily, making rice, kitchen cabinet door left  open ( i do that. a lot ) moment. plus it’s not a bad shot of that tatt of mine.

perhaps i should feel apologetic about the beginning of this post.

like maybe my thoughts are not what you want to hear

but I don’t feel sorry.

i feel truthful

perhaps that’s where some of you were coming from too.

 

 

 

 

I Thought

july was quite the month.

like intense.

i don’t realize how until i went back and looke at my image narrative.

i am often too hyper focused on the now.

i thought perhaps i didn’t get all that nude

just because of the emotional nuances of it all

but i guess i did.

i lost 7 lbs  in 8 weeks

( did i say this already? ugh )

12 lbs over the past year.

some nice improvements to my blood work.

which means good work. continue doing what you are doing

i hurt my knee.

met an absolute asshat doc about that

made my gp doc laugh like heck when i called that dude an asshole.

i am taking a vacation

trying hard to feel i deserve it

but all the stars have really aligned.

i might even feel relaxed

i am fighting a fungal thing

think jock itch but for lady bits

the tissue is angry and not responding.

there is apparently the beginnings of

atrophy.

a-t-r-o-p-h-y

here that gents??

when ya don’t use your parts

they wither.

wrinkle

disappear

and die.

as much as i self touch

i sortof hoped i could bypass atrophy

but the way i do the change of life

none of the maladies associated with it will bypass me

nope

miserable as fuck menopause they should call it.

if it gets to where sex hurts.

i might have to just not.

and right now.

if you wanted me? like in real life

i’d have to say that I couldn’t.

and in this moment. in my writing that very thought.

that breaks my spirit immensely.

which brings me to a memory.

when my second marriage was ending

he, an older man. had performing issues.

we may have been separated even.

funny how sex still occurs in troubled times

don’t you think ??

a gal i know as a gag

gave me my first vibrator

i was in my late 40’s

i didn’t quite get the appeal of them at the time

suffice to say it was something i had to get use to

to practice with.

i remember showing it to him and he was very angry about it. like pissed off.

after a failed bit of lovemaking he said something like

oh why don’t you just go do yourself

and i was really hurt.

i then said, hey wait a sec….as long as we are a couple and sexual

doesn’t aging shift the game??

like in general… don’t couples who age together find new ways to make love ?

i am not interested in masturbating when the real thing can happened between two.

the truth later revealed was that he wasn’t attracted to me any longer

and that whatever sex was attempted was pity sex ( first time i heard that phrase. lovely )

and that he really wasn’t vested in figuring it all out.

so a big fat whatever.

it felt so hopeless.

after that —early match.com years

boy there were a lot of creeps out there.

i hear that woman are equally as creepy as men in online dating

what does that mean?

is it them?

is it the platform?

is it the world?

how does remarkable couple karma happen with so many others?

will i really die alone here???

later —- when i was better at masturbating

i did introduce toys to certain equations.

meaning with a compassionate partner

who wasn’t expectant

a giving thing.

and sometimes that was very exciting for both.

all i can say is i guess you just figure it out as you go.

Triggers

if you say the word trigger

it’s an alert.

it says you have survived something

and usually those somethings are not good.

its a word that is used way too often now.

unfortunately

i loathe mainstream terms

sure i survived.

a LOT

but when there is  hashtag and a campaign around it

when survivors are now a tribe

no.

The words do however set the tone.

and the word trigger

i find very useful

i didn’t mean to run into these images but here they fucking are.

the triggers in this trio are there.

allow me to share.

first image. i remember this day. i had put this dress on backwards and didn’t notice. so like me.  this shot – headless me? was a bit like where had I gone. the “i” part. I love the missing head, the front of the dress on the back of me and the feet in the other direction — this is a great odd shot. I was losing my home here. my lovely little circa 1926 bungalow. my lovely 27 windows of 4 way light. my first space of my very very own. the owning of which happened without a plan in 4 days. my income once here began to spiral. the beginnings of repressed memories and trauma began here. and, so did my alter ego that all of you know so so well. ( or think you know anyway ) I have been writing for cathartic reasons lately and am glad of it. thank you for reading. and for noticing. i am ok. just alone as usual.  but thank you for wondering. so the trigger in this image was the toaster oven. go figure. when i moved in with mr cowboy. he pitched my toaster oven. big big demonstrative ceremony to the dumpster. this has got to go. in the scheme of things NOW I actually have no need for one. but then — a toaster oven was a fixture of home. and he dismantled home emotionally for me. at so so many levels. he messed with it. he messed with me.

second image.  in my creative mind and heart. images like these are an expression and story i want to tell. coupling. my belief in two. visually the moment captured here = lust and desire. it shares an i feel pretty and it pauses a something between two that is a feeling. not a selfie, not contrived, not predicted. it’s real. i can feel the tenderness of these two lips touching. it was like that between us. chemistry at it’s best. lips kissing to wet between them lovely. yum.  the day after this was taken. this man dumped me via text. who the fuck does that. i was stunned.  i gave it or his so called dump some time, because it was JUST weird. He crawled back with an automatic sorry and a handful of pesticide ridden yellow roses. I allowed that. this is where i should say to myself wtf  — because i asked for more of him.  we all have part in our messes. the trigger in this one — stops me in my emotional tracks. the very very memory of such tenderness makes my stomach turn inside out. how is this even missing from my LIFE. we all deserve kisses. lots and lots of them.

The last image was taken for someone who at the time was paying attention to me virtually. he. like most. fleeted. but at the time this was taken for him. the banter was very lovely. I enjoyed taking this image and would do so for  special certain reasons and circumstances. This image reminds me triggers all of my humble beginnings – 10 years ago — my alter ego, my courage to be nude and my looking at myself. inside and out. I keep trying to say… that person is no longer here. I keep speculating about trauma, and age because the other side of it all is there and real. when i look at this image i don’t see the same flesh. and age has altered the demographic

At some level I have stopped looking. or have lost the desire or the feeling of i am…worth looking at i guess. and this isn’t to self deprecate. this is to say who really cares. because who does ?? because really.  if am deserving and worthy. then that should be standing by my side.

My cat was sick last week. for about 4 days she wouldn’t leave me. her curled form upon my chest had me feel a tenderness again that had me weep. she’s a fucking cat. and some of you are not cat people so, i get that but  …the emotional value of a pet is sortof there. and she, and I are together more than anything else. the thing is. i, as you know, tell stories with my photography. i offer a narrative. and doing so in social media has had a volume of folks fall in love with her. It’s pretty neat. In the spirit of that — two strangers and one friend have gifted funds for a now empty vet envelope. not small change either. generous gifting.  That said, I am fully prepared for a next circumstance for her in a way I would have not been able to manage on my own. THIS is pretty great.

I should write more about the gifting economy sometime. and money, and triggers.

another time. 

HOW You Communicate With Me Matters

its an anniversary month of sorts.

something happened a year ago.

things roll off my back a lot better now

which is what had me consider this topic.

as i got to the end of this post

my anger found me

so.

as much as I think i’ve improved

perhaps around this topic I haven’t.

i was really broken last summer

i was very fragile.

I was hurting. I fell apart.

metaphorically i started stitching my art.

stitching the pieces of my life back together.

this post is about communicating.

in particular about communicating with me

If you EVER drop the ball in a banter with me.

meaning if you reach out to me

and something begins.

whatever that something is.

and you,

for whatever reason disappear.

I will think less of you.

i repeat, i will think less of you.

This is how it works with me

the degree of how much less varies.

add this….

it takes a LOT for me to think you are a shit for not writing me back

but at some point i get there.

when i get there.

when i get to the it’s been a month with no reply space and place.

or i have asked 10 questions

and get a reply to 1

or if you promise to write

and don’t.

I think “whatever” 

I think less of you. I lose respect and I rethink bantering with you.

i have those considerations to make now.

i then sortof wonder — do all the people in your life that you care about, do they wait a long while for a common courtesy reply?

because if the way some of you fleet with me?? and the way you treat others is actually the same?

perhaps you are a shit.

my bad.

i get a TON of I’m sorry.

and,

when i read I am sorry for the millionth time. i feel UGH coming out of my pores

I really don’t care about what kept you from common courtesy with me. or your i am sorry. especially the chronic i’m sorry folks.

if you have to say your sorry. does that not indicate some layer of you fucked up? 

Hi — sorry i’ve been busy, it’s been a year since my last ….

UGH,

I care that nothing happened to you, i care that you are not seriously ill or that you didn’t have a car accident or something. I even care that your life is full. but self important busy is not a full life.

I say this because when and if I AM IMPORTANT enough, many very busy busy important traveling, juggling men and woman HAVE found ways to treat me well. They treat all the people around them like they that matter and with common courtesy. I have experienced this, I know this for a fact. Good communicators are out there. I adore this quality in others.

i care about the we in the matter …

MOST of you write to me in some form of praise, adoration and desire to get to know me.  I like that. Actually, I love that.  YOU usually reach out to me.

In that place of attention that you do give me –  I risk.  I risk my emotional well being,  I allow something to begin. I give it a shot. More so I give a lot of myself rather freely

and then,

as if pattern was truth.

the replies from you fizzle.

explain this.

explain this to me in your reality.

how hard is it to send a reply?

is it me?

is it you?

I KNOW most of you. not all. but MOST of you pay great attention to things phone.

Most phones gets WAY more attention than I do.

AT the core of why i engage or entangle or allow bantering emails in the first place is because why.

I AM LONELY.

I value the attention. DUH. 

so if the attention isn’t happening.

whats the point??

why do you want to be in communication with me????

Anyone who reads my blog knows that i love to write. I have a lot to say. I use many words. I reply thoughtfully. I reply thoroughly. If my messages are 200 words and your reply is 50 words. Unless you get to the point beautifully — the short often thumbed on your phone messages do not address me. my words. my thoughts. MY courteous reply.

This gets old fast.

I try and be patient. I wait. I don’t ream anyone a new asshole or anything

but.

after some time goes by

i think less of you

i then think whatever

and then,  if it’s been a long while and silent.  well, then i just think you are a shit

if you want to know if you are on my shit list.

message me.

if you want to redeem your shit.

do so. and mean it.

do not try and pacify me

if you think this blog post is whiney.

or not appropriate.

you may think that.

I am frustrated.

I get to be.

what happened a year ago was unacceptable.

that circumstance ended a 6 year friendship.

if you recall i have added boundaries. those started a year ago

these boundaries are allowing me to put what is important to me first.

i am getting better at them.

please respect me

don’t mess with my willingness to befriend you

get what works for me.