Rachel Kramer Bussel's Blog, page 145
September 25, 2011
Duplicitous hearts and why I'll never get rid of my Margarat Atwood books
I've owned Margaret Atwood's Selected Poetry II for over a decade. I don't know precisely how long, but I picked it up off a dusty bottom bookshelf and read some poems like I'd never read them before, which probably I hadn't. This one I especially liked; maybe those of us who relate can form a duplicitous hearts club. I'd totally join that. In this other book I'm reading,
31 Dates in 31 Days
, author Tamra Duricka Johnson questions at one point whether she's dated too much with her heart, and not enough with her head.
I've questioned that at times but I actually think it's the opposite for me, or rather, I'm in my head so much, too much, perhaps, and I keep my heart a lot more guarded than my head, and when I let it out to play I'm not a helicopter mom. I don't monitor its every move, don't monitor much of anything until its about to flatline on me and then I go into triage mode. And yet...not that I like to be in that mode, I try not to seek it out or go toward it, but if that is the risk of having a duplicitous, or perhaps just naive or optimistic or tender heart, I'll always choose that over the more guarded, cautious, practical alternative. I wonder often if my heart already belongs to the children I want to meet so badly I see the whole world through that lens. Ideally I'd have enough heart for, well, I don't know who for, but for more than one person, but I know I have too much for just me. That particular want has been constant, not duplicitous at all, and if I had to pick which quality I most want to pass on, it would be heart over head in an instant. Not heart at the exclusion of head, as 2011 has beaten into my skull (hard to type those words after watching Drive, but, you know, metaphorically), but never head at the exclusion of heart.
Being on the other end of "I don't want" isn't easy, to put it very, very mildly. When you are and there is someone on the "I want" end who is everything you're not it's excruciating, for lack of a more powerful word. It's like a constant blaring ubiquitous reminder, for me, of what I'm not. As much as I don't want to care, I do. A lot. But again, as dark and searing as that is, and trust me, I could fill a paragraph with synonyms for dark and they'd barely touch what it's like, I'd still rather be a heart girl. I'd rather face that, over and over and over, until I learn whatever it is I'm meant to learn from it. So, I am, and the thing I'm most afraid of is my heart not ever wanting again. It's not something I can control, much to my chagrin, though, so there's a lot of forced listening, as Atwood describes, a lot of digging through the layers and layers of darkness, unpacking, unspooling, unraveling them, forcing them into the brightest light rather than keeping them buried so far away I barely know they're there, burrowing, lying in wait. I can live with my...not faulty, exactly, not even untrustworthy, more like recalcitrant, difficult, challenging heart. Maybe it knows things that my head would never even consider.
Would've put this on Tumblr but it insists on putting lines between my text and I can't be bothered to figure out how to fix that, but click here for her gorgeous poem "Variation On The Word Sleep." Sleep plays a role in both poems. I'll take this with me when I get my "heart" tattoo. Still plotting who, what, when, where (I've got why covered), but I'm thinking this place, while I celebrate my birthday.
Oh, and in Selected Poems II you'll also find "The Woman Makes Peace With Her Faulty Heart."
The Woman Who Could Not Live With Her Faulty Heart
by Margaret Atwood
I do not mean the symbol
of love, a candy shape
to decorated cakes with,
the heart this is supposed
to belong or break;
I mean this lump of muscle
that contracts like a flayed biceps,
purple-blue, with its skin of suet,
its skin of gristle, this isolate,
this caved hermit, unshelled
turtle, this one lungful of blood,
no happy plateful.
All hearts float in their own
deep oceans of no light,
wetblack and glimmering,
their four mouths gulping like fish.
Hearts are said to pound:
this is to be expected, the heart's
regular struggled against being drowned.
But most hearts say, I want, I want,
I want, I want. My heart
is more duplicitous,
though no twin as I once thought.
It says, I want, I don't want, I
want, and then a pause.
It forces me to listen,
and at night it is the infra-red
third eye that remains open
while the other two are sleeping
but refuses to say what it has seen.
I've questioned that at times but I actually think it's the opposite for me, or rather, I'm in my head so much, too much, perhaps, and I keep my heart a lot more guarded than my head, and when I let it out to play I'm not a helicopter mom. I don't monitor its every move, don't monitor much of anything until its about to flatline on me and then I go into triage mode. And yet...not that I like to be in that mode, I try not to seek it out or go toward it, but if that is the risk of having a duplicitous, or perhaps just naive or optimistic or tender heart, I'll always choose that over the more guarded, cautious, practical alternative. I wonder often if my heart already belongs to the children I want to meet so badly I see the whole world through that lens. Ideally I'd have enough heart for, well, I don't know who for, but for more than one person, but I know I have too much for just me. That particular want has been constant, not duplicitous at all, and if I had to pick which quality I most want to pass on, it would be heart over head in an instant. Not heart at the exclusion of head, as 2011 has beaten into my skull (hard to type those words after watching Drive, but, you know, metaphorically), but never head at the exclusion of heart.
Being on the other end of "I don't want" isn't easy, to put it very, very mildly. When you are and there is someone on the "I want" end who is everything you're not it's excruciating, for lack of a more powerful word. It's like a constant blaring ubiquitous reminder, for me, of what I'm not. As much as I don't want to care, I do. A lot. But again, as dark and searing as that is, and trust me, I could fill a paragraph with synonyms for dark and they'd barely touch what it's like, I'd still rather be a heart girl. I'd rather face that, over and over and over, until I learn whatever it is I'm meant to learn from it. So, I am, and the thing I'm most afraid of is my heart not ever wanting again. It's not something I can control, much to my chagrin, though, so there's a lot of forced listening, as Atwood describes, a lot of digging through the layers and layers of darkness, unpacking, unspooling, unraveling them, forcing them into the brightest light rather than keeping them buried so far away I barely know they're there, burrowing, lying in wait. I can live with my...not faulty, exactly, not even untrustworthy, more like recalcitrant, difficult, challenging heart. Maybe it knows things that my head would never even consider.
Would've put this on Tumblr but it insists on putting lines between my text and I can't be bothered to figure out how to fix that, but click here for her gorgeous poem "Variation On The Word Sleep." Sleep plays a role in both poems. I'll take this with me when I get my "heart" tattoo. Still plotting who, what, when, where (I've got why covered), but I'm thinking this place, while I celebrate my birthday.
Oh, and in Selected Poems II you'll also find "The Woman Makes Peace With Her Faulty Heart."
The Woman Who Could Not Live With Her Faulty Heart
by Margaret Atwood
I do not mean the symbol
of love, a candy shape
to decorated cakes with,
the heart this is supposed
to belong or break;
I mean this lump of muscle
that contracts like a flayed biceps,
purple-blue, with its skin of suet,
its skin of gristle, this isolate,
this caved hermit, unshelled
turtle, this one lungful of blood,
no happy plateful.
All hearts float in their own
deep oceans of no light,
wetblack and glimmering,
their four mouths gulping like fish.
Hearts are said to pound:
this is to be expected, the heart's
regular struggled against being drowned.
But most hearts say, I want, I want,
I want, I want. My heart
is more duplicitous,
though no twin as I once thought.
It says, I want, I don't want, I
want, and then a pause.
It forces me to listen,
and at night it is the infra-red
third eye that remains open
while the other two are sleeping
but refuses to say what it has seen.
September 24, 2011
Pretty pearl handcuffs on cover of Bound by Lust edited by Shanna Germain
This hot 2012 anthology,
Bound By Lust: Romantic Stories of Submission and Sensuality
, will include my hot wax exhibitionism story "The Heart of Chaos," set in an art gallery, inspired in a weird diffuse way by the documentary My Kid Could Paint That.
September 22, 2011
Imagine
I was in Central Park on Sunday; I'm writing a piece for The Frisky about what I was doing there, but wanted to share this photo. I'm so rarely in Central Park it's like discovering a whole new city every time I visit.
Whipped Cream Reviews hearts Obsessed
Firstly, let me just say that I love the name Whipped Cream Reviews. Whipped Cream! I am partial to whipped cream out of a can sprayed directly into my mouth, myself.
So I was very pleased that not only did they like my latest anthology, Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women , they gave every story a review. Here are three of them:
One Night in Paris by Kayla Perrin
This story showed and even demonstrated the theme of obsession perfectly. I was completely enthralled with the storyline from beginning to end. Not only was Vivian's obsession with her boss explored, but the author delved into her obsession with the fantasy itself. And let's face it, we all love a good fantasy now and then.
Then by Emerald
This was by far the most erotic story within the anthology. Valerie may love Chris, but her body sure wants a taste of Hayden. The reality is, even while people are in a monogamous relationship, everyones eye wanders occasionally. We cannot help but appreciate an attractive man. What's worse for the heroine,Valerie, is this attractive man is constantly being thrown in her face. The sensual tension escalates because she can't touch him ...or can she?
I Want to Hold Your Hand by Rachel Kramer Bussel
This story was very romantic. All Shelly really wanted to do was reconnect with her husband. While it had a strong erotic element, the story left a warm and fuzzy feeling inside by the time I finished it. Ron was eventually revealed to be the perfect husband that all husbands should be.
Speaking of Emerald, who I got to hang out with a bit in Vegas (below are her awesome boots), if you're in NYC you can catch her this Saturday night, September 24th, at Essensuality: An Evening of Erotic Expression.
Showtime: *Note New Time*
Doors and Bar Open at 8:30
Show Begins at 9pm SHARP
Location:
Wow Café Theatre
59-61 East 4th Street, 4th fl.
Between Bowery and 2nd Avenue in the East Village of Manhattan, NYC
Tickets are $12 in advance, $15 at the door
CLICK HERE for advance tickets
To perform: 215.901.1327 or monica at thesensuallife.com
No cover charge for performers who reserve ahead.
Limited space available.
Emerald's boots, which could inspire an erotica story of their own
So I was very pleased that not only did they like my latest anthology, Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women , they gave every story a review. Here are three of them:
One Night in Paris by Kayla Perrin
This story showed and even demonstrated the theme of obsession perfectly. I was completely enthralled with the storyline from beginning to end. Not only was Vivian's obsession with her boss explored, but the author delved into her obsession with the fantasy itself. And let's face it, we all love a good fantasy now and then.
Then by Emerald
This was by far the most erotic story within the anthology. Valerie may love Chris, but her body sure wants a taste of Hayden. The reality is, even while people are in a monogamous relationship, everyones eye wanders occasionally. We cannot help but appreciate an attractive man. What's worse for the heroine,Valerie, is this attractive man is constantly being thrown in her face. The sensual tension escalates because she can't touch him ...or can she?
I Want to Hold Your Hand by Rachel Kramer Bussel
This story was very romantic. All Shelly really wanted to do was reconnect with her husband. While it had a strong erotic element, the story left a warm and fuzzy feeling inside by the time I finished it. Ron was eventually revealed to be the perfect husband that all husbands should be.
Speaking of Emerald, who I got to hang out with a bit in Vegas (below are her awesome boots), if you're in NYC you can catch her this Saturday night, September 24th, at Essensuality: An Evening of Erotic Expression.
Showtime: *Note New Time*
Doors and Bar Open at 8:30
Show Begins at 9pm SHARP
Location:
Wow Café Theatre
59-61 East 4th Street, 4th fl.
Between Bowery and 2nd Avenue in the East Village of Manhattan, NYC
Tickets are $12 in advance, $15 at the door
CLICK HERE for advance tickets
To perform: 215.901.1327 or monica at thesensuallife.com
No cover charge for performers who reserve ahead.
Limited space available.
Emerald's boots, which could inspire an erotica story of their own
September 21, 2011
SlutWalk NYC is happening October 1st, noon, Union Square
I'm bummed that I didn't know that SlutWalk NYC was holding an erotic bingo fundraiser Tuesday night (my bad). Bingo is one of my favorite activities!
But I wanted to let you know, and please tell anyone in NYC who might be interested, that SlutWalk NYC is happening October 1st at noon at Union Square. Visit slutwalknyc.com for more information. I'm working on an article about the SlutWalk phenomenon that'll run next week and it's inspiring to see what's going on at various SlutWalks, and there are many (just visit the @SlutWalkNYC Twitter feed to see links to many others). They're also on Facebook (as of this posting, 5337 people have RSVPed).
They have a pretty detailed FAQ which I encourage you to read. Here's part of it:
What is slut-shaming?
"Slut" is a derogatory term that is most often used against women who are perceived to be sexual. Women are called sluts for a variety of arbitrary reasons: the clothes they wear, the makeup they wear, their body language, the way they interact with other people, ideas about their sexual behavior, how many partners they may have, or just being perceived in some way as different…The judgment is consistently based on little or no knowledge about a particular woman as a person.
How is SlutWalk NYC different from Take Back the Night?
In many ways SlutWalk NYC and Take Back the Night have similar goals about ending sexual violence. One difference is that SlutWalk NYC is a daytime event, emphasizing that sexual violence can happen at any time. SlutWalk NYC centers trans, genderqueer, gender non-conforming survivors and allies in our organizing and fight for justice. We also welcome male survivors of sexual assault and male allies to participate fully in all events and our organizing.
And from Facebook:
No matter who you are
No matter where you work
No matter how you identify
No matter how you flirt
No matter what you wear
No matter who you choose to love
No matter what you said before:
NO ONE has the right to touch you without your consent. SlutWalk NYC is part of a worldwide grassroots movement challenging rape culture, victim-blaming and slut-shaming*, and working to end sexual and domestic violence.
*SlutWalk NYC's working definition of slut-shaming: the derogatory, sexist language and policies that are used to shame self-identified women who are perceived as sexual.
But I wanted to let you know, and please tell anyone in NYC who might be interested, that SlutWalk NYC is happening October 1st at noon at Union Square. Visit slutwalknyc.com for more information. I'm working on an article about the SlutWalk phenomenon that'll run next week and it's inspiring to see what's going on at various SlutWalks, and there are many (just visit the @SlutWalkNYC Twitter feed to see links to many others). They're also on Facebook (as of this posting, 5337 people have RSVPed).
They have a pretty detailed FAQ which I encourage you to read. Here's part of it:
What is slut-shaming?
"Slut" is a derogatory term that is most often used against women who are perceived to be sexual. Women are called sluts for a variety of arbitrary reasons: the clothes they wear, the makeup they wear, their body language, the way they interact with other people, ideas about their sexual behavior, how many partners they may have, or just being perceived in some way as different…The judgment is consistently based on little or no knowledge about a particular woman as a person.
How is SlutWalk NYC different from Take Back the Night?
In many ways SlutWalk NYC and Take Back the Night have similar goals about ending sexual violence. One difference is that SlutWalk NYC is a daytime event, emphasizing that sexual violence can happen at any time. SlutWalk NYC centers trans, genderqueer, gender non-conforming survivors and allies in our organizing and fight for justice. We also welcome male survivors of sexual assault and male allies to participate fully in all events and our organizing.
And from Facebook:
No matter who you are
No matter where you work
No matter how you identify
No matter how you flirt
No matter what you wear
No matter who you choose to love
No matter what you said before:
NO ONE has the right to touch you without your consent. SlutWalk NYC is part of a worldwide grassroots movement challenging rape culture, victim-blaming and slut-shaming*, and working to end sexual and domestic violence.
*SlutWalk NYC's working definition of slut-shaming: the derogatory, sexist language and policies that are used to shame self-identified women who are perceived as sexual.
Free book offer: Women in Lust virtual book tour bloggers and Amazon reviewers wanted
You get a free book and write about it in some way (a review, excerpt, interview, musing on "women in lust") and post the cover and 2 links. Want in? Email womeninlust at gmail.com with "Tour" in the subject line and your name, mailing address and URL, and you'll get a date assigned to you. For those who don't want to be part of the tour but still want a free book, you can sign up to be an Amazon.com reviewer and get a copy hot off the press (literally before Amazon even stocks it), in return for posting a review on Amazon.com by November 30th; you'd receive it by the 2nd or 3rd week of November. Same deal, just email womeninlust at gmail.com with "Amazon" in the subject and name and mailing address (for that one you must be in the US cause I'm mailing those out myself). Thank you!
Order Women in Lust from:
Amazon
Kindle (link TK)
B&N
Powell's
IndieBound (order from your local bookstore)
Cleis Press
Ladies Who Lust
Lust. It's one of those four-letter words that trips off the tongue. When I say it out loud, it makes my lips want to curve into a smile. Lust is more than simple arousal; it is the force that makes us not just turned on, but craving a certain person (or people).
I used to write a sex column called "Lusty Lady," named after the famed strip club, but somehow lusty, rhyming as it does with busty, sounds a bit like a joke, an added bit of humor, which is how our culture often treats sex. Lust, though, is different; it's intense, overpowering. While in real life we may not always act every time lust calls to us, in fiction, we can abandon the safety of propriety and seek out lust and sex wherever we find them.
The characters in Women in Lust may vary in the objects of their lust, and how they go about acting on their urge, but what connects them is that pure impulse for a lover. Sometimes he is someone she knows well, is married to or dating; in other stories, he is a stranger, and is sexy precisely because he represents the unknown. Women also lust after other women here, as in Kayar Silkenvoice's Japanese happy ending massage story, "Cherry Blossom," and while we only hear one side of the story, I'd like to think the working woman is doing more than just her job. In addition to the culture clash, there's the joy of throwing caution to the wind while on vacation, using travel to broaden one's sexual horizons. Whether watching a lover playing guitar, using a webcam, going out for a smoke or simply embracing a chance encounter, these women seize the opportunities presented to them, and savor the lovers who teach them about themselves and help them open up to new sensual possibilities. Sometimes that means looking at the man they live with in a new light, and other times that means something much naughtier. Either way, their lust is a valued part of their lives, not a pesky afterthought or to-do list item on "date night."
The objects of their lust are not always the "right" person. In "Rain," a woman falls for her best friend's boyfriend, one of the ultimate dating taboos, but she goes for it. Sometimes the desire itself, the way it can be used to tease and taunt, as in Charlotte Stein's "Guess," is maddening, but we embrace our lusts even when they are maddening, even when they make us do things we might otherwise consider reckless.
For every woman here who can locate her lust on the map of her body, who zeros in on her target and goes for it, there is another who is opened up to her lust by a lover, whether it's Jen Cross's narrator pondering what it was, exactly, her orally generous long-ago lover got out of being between her legs. The first words of Shanna Germain's powerfully kinky "Beneath My Skin" are "I'm afraid," to which her lover, Kade, responds, "You should be." Fear can be a powerful motivator and, crossed with lust, can lead to explosive results.
Whether discovering the joy of a younger man, not to mention some delicious pudding, in "Comfort Food," by Donna George Storey, or taking sex and bondage into the great outdoors in "Something to Ruin" by Amelia Thornton, these women indulge in new ways of getting off and pushing the limits of their lust. Thornton writes: "Despite my longing, there was still part of me that wanted to protest, to tell him to cut me loose, to run wildly through the forest back to the safety of our picnic blanket, but to me that is the beauty of rope: to desire escape but to willingly be imprisoned, to feel the pressure of something that prevents my movement, yet to know there is no place that I feel safer than when trapped like this." She captures the excitement of giving in to a dominant lover, even when there is a small part of the narrator that is unsure, for that is precisely the part that fuels her desire. This story captures the true power that lies in submission and the many joys it can bring. In "Her, Him and Them," by Aimee Pearl, the narrator submits to various lovers who question her and push her not only to be the best sub she can be, but to figure out why, exactly, she likes the thrill of submission and service.
I hope these stories inspire some lusty days and nights for you, as they' have for me.
Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City
Introduction: Ladies Who Lust
Naughty Thoughts Portia Da Costa
Guess Charlotte Stein
Her, Him, and Them Aimee Pearl
Bayou Clancy Nacht
Smoke Elizabeth Coldwell
Bite Me Lucy Hughes
Ride a Cowboy Del Carmen
Queen of Sheba Jen Cross
Hot for Teacher Rachel Kramer Bussel
Unbidden Brandy Fox
Something to Ruin Amelia Thornton
Guitar Hero Kin Fallon
Ode to a Masturbator Aimee Herman
Orchid Jacqueline Applebee
Cherry Blossom Kayar Silkenvoice
Rain Olivia Archer
The Hard Way Justine Elyot
Strapped K D Grace
Beneath My Skin Shanna Germain
Comfort Food Donna George Storey
Order Women in Lust from:
Amazon
Kindle (link TK)
B&N
Powell's
IndieBound (order from your local bookstore)
Cleis Press
Ladies Who Lust
Lust. It's one of those four-letter words that trips off the tongue. When I say it out loud, it makes my lips want to curve into a smile. Lust is more than simple arousal; it is the force that makes us not just turned on, but craving a certain person (or people).
I used to write a sex column called "Lusty Lady," named after the famed strip club, but somehow lusty, rhyming as it does with busty, sounds a bit like a joke, an added bit of humor, which is how our culture often treats sex. Lust, though, is different; it's intense, overpowering. While in real life we may not always act every time lust calls to us, in fiction, we can abandon the safety of propriety and seek out lust and sex wherever we find them.
The characters in Women in Lust may vary in the objects of their lust, and how they go about acting on their urge, but what connects them is that pure impulse for a lover. Sometimes he is someone she knows well, is married to or dating; in other stories, he is a stranger, and is sexy precisely because he represents the unknown. Women also lust after other women here, as in Kayar Silkenvoice's Japanese happy ending massage story, "Cherry Blossom," and while we only hear one side of the story, I'd like to think the working woman is doing more than just her job. In addition to the culture clash, there's the joy of throwing caution to the wind while on vacation, using travel to broaden one's sexual horizons. Whether watching a lover playing guitar, using a webcam, going out for a smoke or simply embracing a chance encounter, these women seize the opportunities presented to them, and savor the lovers who teach them about themselves and help them open up to new sensual possibilities. Sometimes that means looking at the man they live with in a new light, and other times that means something much naughtier. Either way, their lust is a valued part of their lives, not a pesky afterthought or to-do list item on "date night."
The objects of their lust are not always the "right" person. In "Rain," a woman falls for her best friend's boyfriend, one of the ultimate dating taboos, but she goes for it. Sometimes the desire itself, the way it can be used to tease and taunt, as in Charlotte Stein's "Guess," is maddening, but we embrace our lusts even when they are maddening, even when they make us do things we might otherwise consider reckless.
For every woman here who can locate her lust on the map of her body, who zeros in on her target and goes for it, there is another who is opened up to her lust by a lover, whether it's Jen Cross's narrator pondering what it was, exactly, her orally generous long-ago lover got out of being between her legs. The first words of Shanna Germain's powerfully kinky "Beneath My Skin" are "I'm afraid," to which her lover, Kade, responds, "You should be." Fear can be a powerful motivator and, crossed with lust, can lead to explosive results.
Whether discovering the joy of a younger man, not to mention some delicious pudding, in "Comfort Food," by Donna George Storey, or taking sex and bondage into the great outdoors in "Something to Ruin" by Amelia Thornton, these women indulge in new ways of getting off and pushing the limits of their lust. Thornton writes: "Despite my longing, there was still part of me that wanted to protest, to tell him to cut me loose, to run wildly through the forest back to the safety of our picnic blanket, but to me that is the beauty of rope: to desire escape but to willingly be imprisoned, to feel the pressure of something that prevents my movement, yet to know there is no place that I feel safer than when trapped like this." She captures the excitement of giving in to a dominant lover, even when there is a small part of the narrator that is unsure, for that is precisely the part that fuels her desire. This story captures the true power that lies in submission and the many joys it can bring. In "Her, Him and Them," by Aimee Pearl, the narrator submits to various lovers who question her and push her not only to be the best sub she can be, but to figure out why, exactly, she likes the thrill of submission and service.
I hope these stories inspire some lusty days and nights for you, as they' have for me.
Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City
Introduction: Ladies Who Lust
Naughty Thoughts Portia Da Costa
Guess Charlotte Stein
Her, Him, and Them Aimee Pearl
Bayou Clancy Nacht
Smoke Elizabeth Coldwell
Bite Me Lucy Hughes
Ride a Cowboy Del Carmen
Queen of Sheba Jen Cross
Hot for Teacher Rachel Kramer Bussel
Unbidden Brandy Fox
Something to Ruin Amelia Thornton
Guitar Hero Kin Fallon
Ode to a Masturbator Aimee Herman
Orchid Jacqueline Applebee
Cherry Blossom Kayar Silkenvoice
Rain Olivia Archer
The Hard Way Justine Elyot
Strapped K D Grace
Beneath My Skin Shanna Germain
Comfort Food Donna George Storey
Sex column: "Rate Me — Not: Why I Don't Want to Know How Many Stars Your Ex Gave You"
My latest SexIs column is called "Rate Me — Not: Why I Don't Want to Know How Many Stars Your Ex Gave You" on why I don't need a website to rate my exes or see how future dates are rated. I get that we are into commoditizing people and summing them up pithily but I don't think you can ever know everything about a person from a screen (or really ever know anything about a person at all).
Here's what was on the Ex-Rated site as a "review of the moment" the first time I visited: "Andi was an incredibly difficult, but sexy woman who, frankly, smelled better than any human I've ever met since." Now, based on just that sentence, I have no idea whether this is someone I'd want to date. Even if I got a full dossier on her (or him), it still would just be words on a screen and, more importantly, a very subjective opinion. Maybe Andi is laid-back and casual around other people and her "difficult"ness was a function of something specific to their relationship.
Relationship post-mortems work well amongst friends because they know the backstory and have likely met the person and seen you together. They know the history and can judge when you're being dramatic, have just cause to be upset, or are justified in trashing (or praising) someone. But in the absence of any other context, it's dangerous to judge people based on "reviews." People are not products, and while I spend a lot of my time observing other people's language, expressions and actions and drawing my own conclusions, I fully admit that those are just my own conclusions.
Read the whole thing (and if you like it, please like it on Facebook if you're so inclined)
Here's what was on the Ex-Rated site as a "review of the moment" the first time I visited: "Andi was an incredibly difficult, but sexy woman who, frankly, smelled better than any human I've ever met since." Now, based on just that sentence, I have no idea whether this is someone I'd want to date. Even if I got a full dossier on her (or him), it still would just be words on a screen and, more importantly, a very subjective opinion. Maybe Andi is laid-back and casual around other people and her "difficult"ness was a function of something specific to their relationship.
Relationship post-mortems work well amongst friends because they know the backstory and have likely met the person and seen you together. They know the history and can judge when you're being dramatic, have just cause to be upset, or are justified in trashing (or praising) someone. But in the absence of any other context, it's dangerous to judge people based on "reviews." People are not products, and while I spend a lot of my time observing other people's language, expressions and actions and drawing my own conclusions, I fully admit that those are just my own conclusions.
Read the whole thing (and if you like it, please like it on Facebook if you're so inclined)
September 20, 2011
I'm celebrating my birthday in Red Hook
November 10th, Cakespy at Baked in Red Hook, Brooklyn; join me, why don't you? In the meantime, making shit happen. Lots of things in the works, exciting tables of contents of books that I think have the potential to be my best, and bestsellers, to be revealed as soon as the paperwork is done.
September 19, 2011
Burning Man Sex Diary
Whether you've been to Burning Man or not, you'll want to read this glitter-filled wedding proposal Burning Man sex diary.
As always, if you're a New Yorker with an interesting sex life and want to write a paid, anonymous sex diary, email me at sexdiaries at nymag.com and tell me why you'd be a good diarist.
As always, if you're a New Yorker with an interesting sex life and want to write a paid, anonymous sex diary, email me at sexdiaries at nymag.com and tell me why you'd be a good diarist.
September 16, 2011
Red high-heeled edible cupcake shoes with pretty bows!
My fellow cupcake blogger Nichelle took this photo of high-heeled cupcake shoes at a party last night to celebrate the upcoming release of the cookbook Cupcakes, Cookies and Pies, Oh My by Alan Richardson and Karen Tack.. They are some of the presenters on our August 2012 Cupcake Cruise to Bermuda! Tickets go on sale next week and you can sign up at cupcakecruise.com for more information when they go on sale. And while I have a hot date with my personal organizer and can't make it, you should totally join Cupcakes Take the Cake for Sunday's Greenwich Village Cupcake Crawl, where you can win a cupcake t-shirt by Rogue Cupcakes!
