"Hmmm? Appreciating the hair?"
"Appreciating the pain, actually."
"Are you enjoying your pain?"
"Yes. And that's a good thing, because if I didn't, I'd have to be cranky. It hurts rather a lot. ... I'm not a masochist. Really."
"You just play one on TV."
"Normally when they say you play your woman like a musical instrument, they don't mean the drum."

"Nobody keeps keas as pets. They don't know what they're missing!"
"Burrowing war parrots."
"Burrowing war parrots!"
kiya: (uppity minion)
( Aug. 18th, 2007 08:47 pm)
Went to the Summer Flea with [livejournal.com profile] arawen and [livejournal.com profile] whispercricket today. My second public outing in a state of formal collarage (the first being dinner last night).

Puttered about for the shopping. Looked at things. Poked at things. Was hit with a few things. Successfully managed to meet maymay and Eileen for a couple of wave-bys. Found flogger that is functional for the ritual purposes that I wanted one for, and is gorgeous.

Was mildly baffled by a vendor who asked me if I was a mermaid. Er, no? (Yes, I am wearing blue. Nonetheless, I do not have fins, and I do have genitalia. People are strange.) (Did you know mermaids are one of the classic symbols of sexual frustration? Hence my using a sculpture I was already making as a presentation piece for the cross-disciplinary Madame Bovary English presentation ....)

Went to late lunch/early dinner at an Ethiopian place right across from the Flea that [livejournal.com profile] whispercricket had heard of. It was good. Stopped at the Alewife Whole Foods on the way out, which was less hellish than the last time I was there.

Home now. Very tired and blurry. I will probably manage dwarves for a while now to decompress.
kiya: (ma'at)
( Aug. 12th, 2007 02:30 am)
I saw my first meteor tonight, the first time I've been completely confident that the streak of light across the curved belly of the lady of the heavens was a piece of falling sky.

I blogged today about visibility and making a difference to the world, in part; poking a sharp stick at visibility, only the loud being heard, stereotypes, talking. A friend talked to me in response about writing to change the world in little subtle bits, and I was dubious; that depends on it being read, that depends on people noticing what's there. It's not a large noise.

I checked my bookmarks of who's linking to me just now, and found a post from today titled "Gratitude", thanking me among others for my writing, for talking about the kink, for building a space where one more person can feel normal.

The meteor flared across the sky in a flicker of brilliant whiteness, stirring the glittering adornments of Her body, and I wrapped myself in the heavens and was at home.
kiya: (slightly mad)
( Apr. 24th, 2007 12:44 am)
Spent most the day in a state of vague mopiness, largely associated with entertaining bits of existential reality contemplation and aggravated by not being able to usefully talk about it with relevant party.

Remembered I had leftovers from yesterday for lunch, which was good, as I was having a major case of, 'Waugh, need food, can't figure out what to make, no ability to focus.'

The bonus imp of Kali? Goes to flowers on me within five minutes. A quick check of the ingredients reveals ... musk rose. Genus Rosa, you are my olfactory bane. ::shakes a fist::

Poking at miscellaneous stuff. Went outside (too warm, alas) and cleaned up some of the yard a little, and wound up having a long conversation with the friendly Ukrainian neighbor, who gave me a tour of her garden (with a little sidebar of hunt-the-noun, as we sort of only share about 70% of a common language).

Extracted buckets from [livejournal.com profile] teinedreugan's car, though mostly he did the extraction and I wandered around declaiming about grapevines (in the event that they survived the winter; uncertain).

Got the edit back for my article. All good, even if there are a stunning number of little red marks on it. This is why the world has editors.

Went to TI. Assisted [livejournal.com profile] arawen with woodworking, mostly by folding paper towels for him to clean up stain with. Noted that the crazed anti-BDSM blogger types I've seen evidence of lately clearly think that I have a far, far more interesting life than I do; [livejournal.com profile] arawen suggested writing up the assistance with woodworking in evocatively porny language and posting it to the blog, which is amusing, but which I will probably not do.

Had food. Retreated to have more interesting life. Was mightily amused, or, as [livejournal.com profile] arawen put it, "What, that we have hot, sweaty sex and then discuss metaphysics as afterplay?" Also woodworking. Metaphysics and woodworking.

Bwaugh. Just, yeah.

Got home, had [livejournal.com profile] teinedreugan explain the complicated Warcraft combat to me. Also discussed changing the sheets on the bed back to the satin ones, as it has hit over eighty (ugh) and thus it is silly to have flannel ones.
kiya: (boggled)
( Mar. 18th, 2007 04:50 pm)
... I'm working through one of the boxes of books that Dad gave me this winterseason, and the handful I just pulled out contained ....

... Tarnsman of Gor.

Well, I suppose I should read at least one of them.

(Update: [livejournal.com profile] teinedreugan, upon coming home, informs me that that's something he got and put in the box so it'd get catalogued. Not quite so weirded out now. ;) )

(While I'm writing, so as not to keep posting the random stuff on my mind in zillions of tiny posts:

From [livejournal.com profile] griffen: How To Write A Fugue. A YouTube video. At the very least I'm pretty sure [livejournal.com profile] jenett and [livejournal.com profile] hobbitblue need to see this. Music, of course. Hysterical.)
    Whitney unidles, laughs and laughs and laughs.
    Otto [[livejournal.com profile] blacktarrant] ?
    Brooks [[livejournal.com profile] brooksmoses] peers quizzically. Share?
    Otto says, "Or are you laughing at the 'g2g, my mom's cancer is on fire'?"
    Otto says, "I sporfled when I saw that someone had used 'BRB Tornado'."
    Whitney says, "So [[livejournal.com profile] teinedreugan] came downstairs and petulantly explained that he was *not* going to sleep in the wet spot, and would I help him change the sheets?"
    Otto giggles.
    Otto says, "Wait, you mean, guys will sleep in the wet spot? Damnit! I've been getting shafted all these years."
    Whitney says, "You see, last night as one of my minor tasks for proper minionage for [[livejournal.com profile] arawen], I got a mug of water, due to fluid loss from exertion. This was, amazingly enough, not all consumed; half of it was left on the bedside table."
    Otto says, "Oh dear."
    Whitney says, "Now, at some point in here Arthur stuck his face in it and tried to drown himself. On the third go he figured out how to stick his face in without submerging his nose ..."
    Whitney says, "I thought no more of it."
    Whitney says, "There was a mysterious upstairs thump a few hours back ..."
    Otto repeats, "Oh dear."
    Whitney says, "I'm not sure if this is 'life with cats' or 'fun jokes involving one's husband and boyfriend' or some strange amalgamation of both, but I am laughing my fucking ass off."
    Otto giggles.
    Whitney says, "And washing the sheets needed done anyway, and counts as my second useful task for the day, so I don't have to catalogue another fucking box of books when I'm done with this one."
    Otto snickers more, decides to wander off to bed, where there is no wet spot, thank god.

*hits forward on iTunes until it comes up with something funny for music*
I need to thrash at this concept until I get it into an essay, I think, but I'm making a note of the seeds of it so I don't lose it entire.

[livejournal.com profile] oneironaut and I were talking about power exchange relationships and related stuff, and responses to the possession of power, power and ma'at. Or what [livejournal.com profile] arawen sometimes refers to as "If I don't take good care of my toys, I don't get to play with them anymore."

There's something heady about having someone else in a position of vulnerability, by whatever means. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things whether it's kink, whether it's economic power, whether it's social power, physical capacity, spiritual knowledge, anything else: the mere fact of the capacity to do is a drug. And it's not a drug everyone has the skill to handle well. (And the toxicity of the drug depends, I think, somewhat, on whether or not the vulnerability is more chosen than coerced.)

Is the response to an exposed vulnerability to raise up, to work it synergistically, to hold that position to keep access to the drug? Any exposed vulnerability is an intimacy -- this is heavy currency in d/s, but it's also one of those flows of political stress that comes of being an oppressed minority, forced to be constantly more exposed, more intimate, to more people, with less consent, less freedom to say "I don't want to be naked here." Is that intimacy cherished, loved, protected, or is it played for personal advantage? Is it an intimacy that people can refuse to have if they don't want to be exposed, or don't want to be a party to someone else's exposure? (And that goes off into questions of [fitb] privilege rather handily -- not only the confidence of being able to lay a hand on a shirt, but the ability to not notice when other people are stripped, to step away from the whole question.)

My experience of d/s situations is that they make these reactions, the responses to power and exposure, all very immediate and present. [livejournal.com profile] oneironaut and I exchanged "You know who you really are when" comments about it -- the whole question of whether or not the jump when granted intense, extensive power over another person is towards ma'at or away. It's always, always, always going to be a drug, but there are good trips and bad trips, and good ways of dealing with the chemistry and bad ones.

I come around to my tendency towards fealty models, exchange of powers, interdependent obligations.

And I come around to, sometimes, choosing to be naked beneath everything, because I show myself who I really am.

(Words aren't coming out quite right. Oh well.)

(ETA: This is partly related to discussion linked from [livejournal.com profile] takingsteps, too.)
Short public review of Raven Kaldera's Dark Moon Rising: Pagan BDSM and the Ordeal Path:

Wow, that was so much more useful than Carnal Alchemy.

Longer public review )
So I've been having some disjointed conversations:

Kiya: You know, I was going to say that the two conversations I'm having at the moment on IRC are sort of surreal in juxtaposition, but I'm suspecting that Sox fandom is having one of its strongly-resembles-a-BDSM-relationship periods lately.
[livejournal.com profile] kviri: <snrk>
Cut for introspective rambling. )
... where I suddenly connect up BDSM theory and witchcraft theory:

"My commitment to align my will can only be worth as much as my will."

Meanwhile, I spilled about a third of a allon of milk in the kitchen, which makes me cranky.

... man, I missed having this song ...

"Check it in, check it out, making love I like watching all your fireworks ... I like it when I light those stars in your eyes ..."
Because I so don't want to chronicle my day.

It occurs to me that at least one of my issues with constructing sexual fantasies without consent of any other parties involved boils down to a writing problem.

Specifically: "You don't really have a good enough handle on this character to predict how they'll behave in this situation, do you?"


(Also, without said consent, said character wouldn't be in that situation, so no story.)

Memory pastiche is much easier.
kiya: (smack)
( Jun. 26th, 2006 05:01 pm)
This is a political post. Keep in mind that I don't like feeling political, I find feeling political to be a visceral response to a wrongness in the universe, feeling political is "Every Hetheru has an inner Sekhmet", it's not a mode I find natural or comfortable, so this may be incoherent and ranty in bits.

Since I'm being incoherent and ranty on the subject of sexuality, who knows, it may be incoherent, ranty, and not entirely safe for work. Probably won't be, but I haven't written it yet, so I'm making warning noises about the possibility.

Also, the random music selection is amusing me in a dark bitter chocolate sort of way.

Okay, enough disclaimer.

Women's sexuality, ownership thereof. )
kiya: (sex)
( Jun. 4th, 2006 10:02 pm)
Had a fascinating experience over the last while, of finding that I have a potent urge to respond to things posted to ssbb and yet being unable to actually formulate something that I can say in such a public forum. The stuff that I would like to say is too intermingled with the things that don't get said.

    And still I fear I said too much
    My silence is my self-defense

It's interesting to me that I'm to a point where I wish I had good resources for kink and sexuality issues, but the ones that are out there I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable using. I have such a weird patterning of intense privacy and intense openness about anything that touches on sex that it's sometimes amazing to me that I can talk about it at all.

There's the edge to work, the where yes-meets-no, that point of intimacy and abandon that cuts sharp and deep and bleeds. To know - to will - to dare - to keep silent.

I need to clear away the detritus around an image there and see if I can get somewhere with it.

Meanwhile, in a more prosaic reality, I need to go clean the medicine cabinet.


kiya: (Default)


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