Dear Journalist

quite some time ago I ran across an article written by a supposed hirsute journalist. the article angered me. so much so, i sat down and wrote her a letter. i never finished said letter, but came across my notes for it the other day.

i was angry because she went on an on about the right to be hairy but she shaved to please her boyfriend.

she said why should he have to endure her armpits which were an aesthetic assault to those around her. especially her man.

she then went on to say how liberated and furry proud she was. her decision to be hairy was declarative, a feminist act, an aggression of sorts

but for him she shaved

does that make sense??

dear hirsute journalist, i wanted to write to you to acknowledge your recent article, it’s interesting to me what becomes news today. I like you am a hirsute female. I have a long history of trying to fit my natural presence in an unnatural society. i feel perhaps more seasoned in the battle. it’s one thing to personally wrestle with having more hair than those around you. it’s another to find the internal courage to be with it. even more courage to be out loud about it…your article made no sense to me. How can you declare a personal i am hairy victory and shave at the will of a boyfriend?”

that’s as far as the letter got….i remember feeling like the topic of hair was really bait for some whiney article that wasn’t about hirsutism at all.

it made me dislike her.

when i braved growing my legs and armpits out 10 years ago. i was actually VERY brave. when the hair growth was in it’s full glory – it was beautiful. I fell for it as much as you did. The reality and day to day world around me? Not so much. I was shunned. I was verbally assaulted. I was misunderstood.

TODAY — a decade later, and this is why i am writing this post. my pit hair is not nearly as abundant. it’s thinned, it’s not very dark, its certainly not what it use to be. same for the hair on my legs. even my pussy hair is different.

the hair on my face is where the current abundance is.

try that one on dear journalist.

The Woman With Hair

scored a small stack of used SUN magazines at the library yesterday. i love that magazine, i tear it apart for collage, and enjoy the writing. I’ve submitted my own writing a few times, and a few times a year i submit black and white images, no luck so far. at least i try.

while pulling the magazines apart last night i was drawn to it’s nude scape, with it was the title. “the woman with hair” 

One particular line made me smile. 

“Her hair was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It straddled time zones; it lived and breathed, making deep exhalations down to her toes.”

I have to marvel that issues dated back to 2005 or further are now all available online.

a discussion had at the same library talked about the days before we had the web.

to think that there are generations now of folks who don’t know before.

This  last week I heard from fans that had intrigue with my opening in Chicago this evening. ( thank you ) and NO I will not be at the opening.

they start by saying,” I’ve followed your work for a long time” 

I feel two things when I read this.

I never knew.

and,

thank you.

I guess I get the silent fandom thing

i admire and am a fan of many a person.

it’s just in the realm of lonely.

it’s nice to actually know you are here.

speaking of scapes.

i really don’t have that many in my portfolio.

i am partial to the over exposed one. mod and lunar somehow

 

 

It’s Not Like It Use To Be

took a nap yesterday. very occasionally i simply need to do that. when I do, i usually sleep but good. like out cold. yesterday, the cat was pacing herself around me, trying to get me out of bed i guess. I knew her presence somehow. it was like napping with one eye open – I thought at some level she doesn’t know what is going on, but sleeping was way more valuable to me then her. she did settle in at some point. purring at the nook of my legs behind my knee.

i dreamt about a swimming pool full of cats, they were floating on their backs. sunning themselves. all of them had massive human hard ons. the dream shifted from the bright sun, brilliant blue of the pool and wet cat fur….to one of cartoon renderings. Thats when the male anatomy showed up. exaggerated and absolutely ridiculous.  and of course, rather inviting. i am sure one can analyze the heck out of the subconscious reveal of that one.

I stumbled upon this retro hairy capture.  back in the day when i let the hair on my legs and my armpits grow out. there was a lot of hair. it was dark, long and there was plenty of it. sharing that growth with all of you got me a great amount of attention. NOW though – it’s just not like it use to be.  the hair that use to be between my breasts is completely gone, the armpit and leg hair has thinned out, gotten white, there is a lot less of all of it. my pussy hair is almost all white. more course, and less dense. I then have this ridiculous volume of hair on my face. which most men/women admire for my courage of sporting it. but are not particularly attracted to. that disdain happen when i had hairy legs and armpits — unless one had a fetish for it.  I suppose my current hairy presentation would be like a bald man with a hairy chest or something.  The hair on my head is the longest it’s every been. About a foot now past shoulder length.

a lot of my fans think of me back in the day.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Story

my art is narrative.

my photography and art making are story telling.

i am a gifted visual artist

I have a way with words

so i am told.

to tell the story that is now. i find myself tongue tied.

like perhaps the tale is not particularly pretty or sexy or erotic, or that there isn’t much of a story to tell, or that i am a downer.

thats a lot of “or”

i know i am downer, who am i fooling

i still get private messages that are kind, or playful, or a gift, or someone will encourages me, or my blog gets high traffic like today. ( woot )

i could think that happens because I am loved.

and that’s pretty wonderful.

the reality is most who come here have lives and commitments that do not include me.

vested interests are elsewhere.

i am pretty sure many who come here are simply looking to whack off.

but hey, if you are seeking something other than that.

i might want to know.

which gets me to the point of this post.

what makes the image posted below a delicious visual story?

this is a very beautiful, very “me” capture.

this image is what makes this blog. what made this blog?

( image by K Smith for anonymously nude )

this was taken on a crisp sunny bright winter late afternoon. near valentines day.  2011.  My hair is almost all silver now. geeesh. i had just completed an email exchange with a consistent and attentive male. after the email i felt aroused. not all fans arouse me. i have to feel a trust somehow. i have to be attracted to that person. chemistry plays a role. even in a virtual way

consistent because he was there, day in day out. attentive in that he paid attention to the details. he remembered the little things. he paid attention to the me in the equation. he knew what to say.

i took this image because i felt i had a valentine. it was fantasy, but in that moment. I was his and He was mine.

this man was married, a father, an employee at a corporate job, yet he found a way to have time for me, to validate me. the word validate is the difference between the very hot sexy excited me then, and the broken me now.

one can not look this way ( or like this image ) alone. this image is the product of two.

i don’t subscribe to the you don’t need someone else to validate you …just validate yourself!!

bullshit.

i am better when i have someone paying attention to me.

an erotic capture like the above?

takes two.

now, as the story goes

i no longer held the sexual attention of this man,

he was there for the arousal

he had needs that i was not willing to provide.

i could never really have him. loyal that he was to his marriage.

we both felt frustrated.

i was there for the kindness. i was there for the attention.

perhaps i didn’t mind the bit of self touch

on the side.

there is of course way more to the story, and the volume of them from that time.

NINE years ago.

THIS narrative however is an OLD story.

i don’t look like this now.

self touch was brand new then.

now, masturbation is pretty down and dirty.

i self love to get a desperate release.

it’s not particularly fun anymore

the attention/validation person/s

is/are long gone now.

i am different now.

there is no two to the equation.

i am not willing to play that way now.

all of it is rather sad.

don’t ya think??

I’m sorry.

i will visually share the bright and shiny old me

so as to not disappoint you with the now me.

i say this not for self pity.

OK?

i am trying to find the words

that describe what’s different.

who i am now

is not who I was then.

i think the images do it better than I do.

not sure who i am right now.

that might be the truth right there.

( images by K Smith for anonymously nude )

P.S. Sold this heart photograph yesterday. Just in time for Valentines Day. May  yours be filled with love.

IMG_7430

 

 

 

Sameness

sometimes a blog post topic/idea will circle the drain of my brain and write and write and write itself into my subconscious mind. this is one of those topics. 

each night before i go to sleep i hear the crunching of my cat having a little midnight snack. every single night. i sometimes find myself smiling.  as a little girl my mother would have her bath. the sound of water filling the tub was what I fell asleep to.

i never thought about routine and the sameness of it. i just lived it. we all do.we all have the way we do things. i never bothered to observe my sameness.

oblivious.

last year was the year of boundaries for me. big, deep, emotional, NO – i don’t think so boundaries. those choices may have isolated me even more in my already I am really alone in the world

that said, i just wrote about my year 2019 in review and i gotta tell ya

for a socially phobic, almost 60, poor, bearded creative

i am one up to something lonely person.

perhaps when all is said.

what i do in the sameness of it all

besides being THE vehicle for coping.

perhaps it’s the fuel i thrive on.

give me my space.

understand me.

when I divorced my first husband i was in a transition phase of my life. i went from wife and mom to single mother and self employed. my idea of the world/persons reliable completely shattered. 18 years in, i lost the man i thought was my life partner, and the family i had become a part of – they, his siblings etc were very mean to me in the end.

the phrase its up to me, its up to me, its up to me. rattled inside my brain. i had two little ones that counted on me in an everything sortof way. i cant say this felt like burden, it never did. more so it felt like an i’ve got this, but a lot like holy shit.

i was introduced to a technique called the week at a glance.  it was about creating your perfect day. i am not about creating a perfect anything. perfect is really not the word i mean. more so it’s how to create a day or a week that works for me.  i took this technique on with great earnest and sincerity. i utilize this premise even now.

it’s about your day to day and how one can manage it. it’s not about what others expect, although for some life circumstances it is. it’s about what you want. out of each and every day of the week.

with that technique comes rules. MY rules. Back then it’s how i organized my family life, my in home business life. it’s how i made sense of it all somehow. my kids really took to it. and later when they got older they applied the same technique to fuller personal schedules. a life skill.

some of my rules today make me laugh. these few in particular amuse others.

  1. i dont do mornings.
  2. i dont do mondays
  3. i brunch.

some call them quirks.

there are so many.

recently i spoke with the owner of a gift shop. he shared a story about his bar stool. the place he sat. every single night for over 20 years. a bit i guess like the tv show cheers. while the neighborhood pub has its charm. only before marriage did i ever frequent one. i take that back. i did go on friday nights to a bar during my first divorce. briefly. i enjoyed that actually. in current times though?? i don’t frequent anywhere. ever. regularly. except for galleries and the burger place i go to twice a year when I trek to the dentist. i want to be a local consumer. a treasured customer. a loyal sort. but i don’t get out that much. this last year i got to evaluate why.

this shop owner shared that he had quit his bar stool. not for the sake of sobriety. but more so for the time in the evenings he missed for other things. reading, chores, creative endeavors. he said he wasted those years on that bar stool. he defined himself by that stool. and lost himself to the blur of cocktails every night. he did decide not to drink. he said it was to let go of the habit of it not because it was a problem. to me, if someone drinks every single day. that’s more than a habit. don’t get me wrong. not judging. i love drinking, i just don’t live to drink. i like it socially. its entertaining. i think i had something to drink last around christmas.

which brings me back to sameness. i have plenty of sameness

we are all perhaps

predictable

ordinary

when we co-mingle it – it gets so very complicated.  would you agree? the older i get, the more set in my sameness i become. and i don’t fucking care either.

( image set is from JAN 2015) 

i was losing my home, purging my belongings at a high pitch, i was seeing mr cowboy and preparing to move in with him. sigh. i did have a rather adventurous nude photography show at a gallery that month. and took an image enroute to that show that later would be the most expensive photograph i’ve ever sold. i also did some project work with a food truck. 

 

Best Of 2019

if you recall i do this annually,  this collect the best thing.

I began in 2012

7 years of bests.

doing it differently this year

fans gave quite a few of these a strong response

but perhaps deciding the best

is a different story.

care to chime in?

which are your favorite and why.

i figure two from each category should do it.

plus one for a cover of sorts

as if it were a calendar.

noone has ever bought a calendar

noone buys my nude images either.

whatever.

perhaps there is no point

except to see the year in review.

for a year that i didn’t feel particularly sexy/attractive

i love many of these.

the artist part of me is strident.

perhaps that’s the point.

there are 35 images. i uploaded all into a gallery style. click the first image and you can view and arrow forward.  i forgot to watermark these. dammit.

12 rows. 1-2-3, per row. except the last row.

what speaks to you and why??

the categories are: 

torso

breast

ass

full/classic

masturbate

other

 

Last Shots

i took a few goodbye images so to speak in the green chair.

they are not my best. in that chair.

but, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s hard to capture much in this apartment without also capturing things in the back round.

As you recall i am rather mindful of that.

  1. gotta love my left ankle. those my dears are scratches and bites from my cat. and this poor poor chair. can you see how yesterdays news it is??
  2. my beard is now a year old, from the time I won that award. the one where the entire room unanimously voted it “people’s choice”. ahem. it’s exactly the same length. AND, i had  an inch trimmed off of it twice. lordy, the thing actually grows. I told you it was pervasive.
  3. this shot is probably the closest to classic green chair as it gets. considering the season. getting light on a subject matter is pretty tricky.