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The Sex Blog Of Record
March 1st, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Embedded in the reasonably kink-sympathetic story in Wednesday’s New York Times was this odd little description of fire play:
Tucked away in one room, a man and woman were sharing fire play, which involved accelerant placed on strategic points of the woman’s body and set ablaze in short, dramatic bursts.
Who uses the word accelerant except fire fighters and arson investigators?
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February 28th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
I’m going to be self-indulgent today (Ha! Don’t ask about all the other days…) and post some words about the reputed death of blogging. Karl Elvis has been a friend of ErosBlog since forever, and here’s what he had to say about six weeks ago, on the occasion of his blog’s ninth anniversary:
As social media finally got a real foothold, blogging crashed and burned.
That probably makes sense. Blogging was a fad, something of an era; every fucking person on the internet seemed to have a blog for a six month period there. And then they didn’t. Abandoned blogs are the ghost town of the decade; people will tour them some day, dodging tumble weeds and spam links and stealing mementos.
Actually they won’t. Because unlike ghost towns, blogs leave nothing behind but empty hearts and minds. No blood no guts no brains at all.
There are exceptions, obviously. Great writing happened, and is still happening, in the context of blogs. No, the issue wasn’t a lack of content, it was the opposite. It was that signal-to-noise problem that chases us around the internet; when something works, really works, it has the life span of a snowflake. Perfect, brilliant, ephemeral, and then gone, lost in the waves of it’s own success. The sheer mass of irrelevancy and stupidity swamped the goodness and buried it.
But you know that. And anyway you’re not reading; who reads blogs anymore?
I wonder if Karl hasn’t accidentally put his finger on one of the reasons why I’ve recently gotten weirdly obsessive about tracking down image relationships and attributions. Some people do still read blogs, or you wouldn’t be reading this. But I never did any long-read “great writing” for writing’s sake; I was always about the “hey, look at this!” with my value added being a snarky sentence or at most a few paragraphs of commentary. On a bad day, it can look (and feel) like I’m just doing Tumblr cosplay in a costume made out of stale WordPress; what makes it a good day is the feeling of value added, of context provided. Boost signal; filter noise.
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February 27th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
I’m thumbing through Nancy Friday’s My Secret Garden for the first time in about thirty years. It’s striking in a number of ways, but the most striking for me is how it’s become a period piece while I wasn’t looking at it. Here’s Marion, talking (sometime in 1973 or earlier) about how she uses her modified Ronson electric toothbrush with a harness she got a sandal-maker to make for her:
Lilly and I, we like to use an electric toothbrush. The battery-operated kind, so you don’t have to worry about the electric wires, or plugging it in. Except that’s just what you do — plug it in.
You ever go to a doctor or a dentist, and he’s cut his finger, and he wears a little rubber cap on his finger? Like a little condom? Anyway, we use that — we use epoxy glue to glue the toothbrush itself onto the little metal head otherwise the vibration’ll shake the brush off. Then I use the same glue to put the rubber cap on the brush, so that it covers the bristles. Some of our friends do this, too. It’s like our own “in” joke. “What are you using tonight, Jack?” we say to each other, when somebody’s picked up a new girl. “A Schick?” We trade brand names. I like a Ronson. It’s got four, or maybe six batteries, I forget, but it really goes.
I have a kind of strap. It goes around my waist and up over my shoulders, crossing in the back and then down under my ass and coming back up to the belt again. I had a sandal-maker make it for me. So the Ronson is really anchored right down low and in place. I mean, it’s rigid.
Look, you talk to any guy, and the first thing he wants to know, Has he made the girl come? That’s their mark of virility. That’s what they’re anxious about. But me and my Ronson, I can make any girl come, every time. It’s simple biology. Men have this business, they don’t even understand. To get deep inside. To plant the seed. That’s biology. Okay, I’m butch, I’m also a woman. I understand the clit. I don’t have that urge to go deep into a woman. Maybe I’m competitive with men. Or maybe I don’t want to just give in to biology. But I don’t care about going in deep. I know about myself and I never forget that the clit is where it’s at.
So I know what Lilly’s getting out of it. But there I am all alone in my head, very excited, but still somehow all alone. I know Lilly is going to be okay, but I have to make up these images in my mind so that I can get excited, too. What turns me on is that I’m raping a motorcycle rider. One of these butch studs in the polished black leather, and the big machine. I’m moving in and out of Lilly, giving her a little bit of clit, a little bit of cunt, and then a lot more of clit. But meanwhile, I can see myself in my mind, I’m still wearing that Ronson, but it isn’t Lilly anymore.
It’s this stud, and I’ve got him over his bike. He’s got his ass to me. He’s that big, butch faggot, get it? And I’m giving him the Ronson up the ass. And he loves it. He’s shoving that ass up at me. He can’t get enough.
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February 26th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
I’m guessing it’s the New Statesmen editors who headlined this piece with the infantilizing phrase “C word” rather than the author (Laurie Penny) who wrote:
It’s a perfectly nice little word, a word with 800 years of history; a word used by Chaucer and by Shakespeare. It’s the only word we have to describe the female genitalia that is neither mawkish, nor medical, nor a function of pornography. Semantically, it serves the same function as “dick” or “prick” — a signifier for a sexual organ which can also be used as a descriptor or insult, a word that is not passive, but active, even aggressive.
There are no other truly empowering words for the female genitalia. ‘Pussy’ is nastily diminutive, as if every woman had a tame and purring pet between her legs, while the medical descriptor “vagina” refers only to a part of the organ, as if women’s sexuality were nothing more than a wet hole, or “sheath” in the Latin. Cunt, meanwhile, is a word for the whole thing, a wholesome word, an earthy, dank and lusty word with the merest hint of horny threat. Cunt. It’s fantastically difficult to pronounce without baring the teeth.
I must differ with the “nastily diminutive” description of the word “pussy”, though. I’ve heard “pussy” used that way, sure. But, more often, not. Is “pussy” diminutive? Sure. But we (men and women alike) can and often do use diminutives to express tenderness and affection. We also use them, sometimes, for nasty putdowns and diminution; context is everything.
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February 25th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
If you were that duck, you could be hot tubbing with Mia Farrow and Elizabeth Taylor:
Found here.
It reminds me of a song popular in my youth:
“Oh, I wish I was a little bar of soap,
Oh, I wish I was a little bar of soap,
I’d go slippy-slippy slimey
over everyone’s behiney —
Oh, I wish I was a little bar of soap.”
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February 24th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
So Molly Ren tweeted about “the world’s cutest orgy” on her blog:
As is becoming usual for me, I got carried away and had to track down the source. I wound up at a blog by “Bear King” (which matches the signature on Molly’s find) and there’s quite a bit more in the same vein:
That’s not the first bear sandwich I’ve seen, but the last one I saw was made from whole wheat bread and stewed bits of an actual fangs-and-fur style bear (no joke). Hastily changing the subject away from my unusual childhood: Am I the only one who thinks the Bear King may have been inspired by the illustrator for the “Curious George” line of children’s books?
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February 23rd, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Here’s Penny Pax in an interview, talking about the Kink.com shooting experience:
You are a regular on Kink. How does it feel to work there?
It’s always a positive experience and a learning one too! I absolutely love shooting with them. Everyone on staff from the editors to the security, each are friendly and always there to help. It’s totally a teaching company to work for and I’m grateful that they continue to have me back.
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