Blogger Needs Solace, Badly

(Sorry, bad turn-of-phrase on the old Gauntlet video game's warning message.)

Three-day weekend coming up. I blew the last big weekend I had (July 4th), by pretty much sleeping 2/3 or more of it. For this one, I need to get away from the bay area. I need something quiet and most of all, cheap. And within 4-5 hours of San Jose, California.

I just need to hole up somewhere with my laptop and few other distractions. I'm not getting laid these days, might as well get some writing done...

D

The Addict Gets a Little Misty

I have heard what may be, to me, the most romantic song ever. It's called "Such Great Heights", and it's on the soundtrack to Garden State. There, it's performed by Iron and Wine, but the lyrics I found online attribute it to "The Postal Service", whom I've never heard (or heard of).

I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles
In our eyes are mirror images and when
We kiss they're perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate that God himself
Did make us into corresponding shapes like
Puzzle pieces from the clay
True, it may seem like a stretch, but
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled
Head when you're away when I am missing you to death
When you are out there on the road for
Several weeks of shows and when you scan
The radio, I hope this song will guide you home

They will see us waving from such great
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'come down now,' but we'll stay...

I tried my best to leave this all on your
Machine but the persistent beat it sounded
Thin upon listening
That frankly will not fly. you will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home

If you'll excuse me for a moment, please. Just talk amongst yourselves...

D

In Praise of Painted Ladies

Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, say, have you met Lydia?
Lydia The Tattooed Lady.
She has eyes that folks adore so,
and a torso even more so.

I have a few fetishes, indeed. PVC and latex clothing, the "gothic" look, etc. But the one that has always been with me, that entrances me the most, is the tattooed woman. Oh, how quickly my heart flutters and my senses leave me, when I catch sight of a well-done piece of ink on soft, feminine skin.

I can't honestly say what it is about bodyart that grabs me so much. I'm not even sure when it started. I grew up in a pretty quiet, conservative environment. I never really saw women with tattoos until I got to college, and even then only very rarely. It wasn't a matter of taboo; there was no command from on high from my parents to avoid these women. Plus, Oklahoma doesn't allow tattoo parlors to operate within the state, so those who want them have to go to Texas, Kansas, etc., to get them. Or move into the state with them, which is why I started seeing them when I was in college. But whatever the psychological trigger was, it's there. Walking down the street, all I have to see is a peek of ink under a sleeve, peeping up from a collar, or briefly flashed from the small of the back when a woman leans forward.

It can't be just any ink, though. I do have standards after all. Badly-done, or badly-designed tattoos can turn me off faster than chain-smoking or poor hygiene. Probably the worst tattoo offense (in my opinion) is having someones's name tattooed across the upper side of a breast. Not only are you placing detailed stenciling on flesh that nature has promised you will eventually sag and stretch, you're betting that the person who's name you've just etched into your self will still be with you when it sags. In fact, putting someone's name on your skin is a risky move in general. There are certainly cases where you know that other person's heart so well, that you can both be certain you'll always be together. But take my word for it-- the people I see most often with this form of artwork, well, I don't think they've taken the time to be that certain. But there are plenty of other examples of bad bodyart, don't think that I'm only turned-off by that one type. For my part, though, I'd rather focus on the truly well-done work.

Well done ink, well, that can forgive a lot of other shortcomings. Some of the celebrities I lust after the strongest have significant tattoo work. Masuimi Max (pictured), has some of the best work I've seen. Angelina Jolie's are much more subdued, but well done. And you almost can't watch porn now without all the actresses having some amount of ink. In the late '80s and early '90s, tattoos were still rare-- actresses just didn't have them. One notable exception was Viper, noted for a large serpent tattoo running from her belly down past her pubic area. I've seen some recent pictures of Janine Lindemuller who sports a fair amount of ink these days. And the last 3-4 porn titles I've rented have featured starlets all tattooed to the one. The common denominator seems to be the small of the back. Not sure why that is, but if they have just one tattoo, that's where it is. Even Charisma Carpenter, of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel fame, has a design there.

There have been a few sex workers I've been with, who were tattooed. One in particular was an asian woman working in a few different massage parlors, who went by the name "Jenny". She had intertwining roses in a pattern around her waist, just above her hips. I saw her on several occassions, at at least two different MP locations. I can still remember admiring the beauty of the roses as I held her hips and drilled away. The person I saw in Portland, too, and some others here in the bay area who's art wasn't as attractive. I knew a stripper in Denver who had flowery patterns done around the aureole of her nipples. They looked great, but I wince to think of what it must have felt like having it done.

Depending on how you look at it, the best or worst cases are those people I know and interact with. Knowing that someone I already find attractive also has one or more tattoos, will make me even more tongue-tied and jittery when trying to chat her up. To make matters worse, I come off like a poser: I don't have any ink. I have an idea of what I want, and I plan on having it done at some point, when I finalize the design. But at the moment, I would come off as some dweeb who's only interested in the woman for her "exotic nature". And like anything else that has certain sub-cultural meaning attached to it, people with tattoos tend to prefer other people with tattoos. There may well be a wonderfully-tattooed woman out there who would be interested in me, but I haven't yet met her. Plus, for some reason, almost every woman I've known personally who has tattoos is also a smoker. Not sure of the linkage, but there it is.

Maybe, some day, when I have a little ink to offer in exchange, I'll fulfill my fantasy of having a tattooed partner. Until then, I can settle for a Google search for "tattooed women".

Dausa

Not Too Drunk...

...but really, too lazy to fuck?

When it comes down to this, humanity is in real trouble. If you lack the energy to have sex, you have more problems than this device is going to solve.

D

Signs, No Portents

Before I go to sleep, a few choice pix from Portland:


 Actual restaurant/lounge sign in Chinatown

 I chose to stick with water

D

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo

(The title is the title of the latest single from the Bloodhound Gang. If you don't get it, make an acronym for it.)

So, I'm back home from Portland. I did in fact add Oregon to the list of states I've had sex in (for the record, it stands at Arizona, California, Colorado, Minnesota, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Oregon, Washington, Mexico and England). But to be fair, I did "order in", as it were. Being at a tech conference, the ratio of women to men was already dismal, and most of them were already partnered to some degree. Plus, women have a hard-enough time getting taken seriously in this field, without risking their rep by having one-nighters at serious tech conferences. Trade-shows, maybe. But this event is heavier than that. Add to that that I wasn't really up for trolling bars, and paying for it seemed like the best way out.

Which isn't to say that there are not some truly beautiful women in the Portland area. I encountered no less that five blue-eyed redheads, a color combination I'm a real sucker for. My wanderings around to places like Powell's books also brought a lot of fine eye-candy into view. There was in fact one woman visiting friends-- she was English but currently living in Atlanta (?!?)-- whom I met at a restaurant. We seemed to click really well; had I been able to separate her from her two (male) friends, I'd have slipped her my cell number. Might not have led to anything, but at least I would have tried!

So, failing all that I went to plan "B"...

I started out by checking Craig's List, specificially the listings for erotic services in Portland. The first thing that struck me was just how much more spam there is there than in the similar section for the bay area (well, the bay area is divided into five sections, SF, pennisula, north, south and east bay, and to be fair I only ever check the south bay). The ratio seemed to be almost 1:1 during some periods of the day. I wonder if may there just aren't as many providers using CL up there, and that in fact the spam rate is the same, just not as much wheat to offset the chaff.

Anyway, after reading for a while, I decided to call upon someone who went by "Tall Brunette". There were several messages praising her not only for skill, but also for attitude and general considerateness. There were also a few messages claiming she was a rip-off, and that the positive messages were all really her. But for some reason, I decided to take a change. And thank goodness I did.

One thing that makes it nearly impossible to completely give up commercial sex, is that I have about a 90% success-rate at picking quality people to see. As if I just have a sense for when the good comments are made-up or not, when the person truly is as good as others suggest. This was no exception.

She arrived almost exactly on time-- indeed, I was still shaving after having showered, since I just assumed she'd be 5-10 minutes late. She smiled, hugged me, and left me to finish shaving. We chatted a bit (though talking and shaving with a disposable razor at the same time is no mean feat), and she made herself comfy-- by dropping her pants and coming back into the bathroom in just her panties and t-shirt. When I finished shaving, we kissed for the first time... I'd checked to make sure she wasn't a smoker, but I could tell she was an occassional toker. But that is something that I can live with-- doesn't affect the breath (or the taste) like "regular" smoking does.

We moved to the bed, and continued making out. It was a really relaxing thing... I felt like I was with someone I'd already been on several dates with. And she was in fact tall-- probably 5'10" or 5'11" without shoes. So we were matched up nicely... face-to-face, hips-to-hips and feet-to-feet. We kept kissing and plaing footsie until she decided we needed to be undressed. She seemed pleased with the erection I had to offer (or at least, she did a good job making me feel like it), and proceeded to perform some world-class oral.

After about 10 minutes of this, I suggested we try a little 69. She very shyly declined, saying she couldn't concentrate on anything else when she was being eaten. I didn't want to finish just yet, so I had her lay back and I took my turn. I could see what she meant-- she really seemed to enjoy being eaten. No, she was wild for it. The longer I went, the more she twisted and bucked. After about 8-10 minutes, she flexed her muscles such that she lifted herself off the bed, save for shoulders and feet. I stayed at it for nearly 5 minutes more. Acknowledging the possibility that she was faking, she at least seemed to have a solid 3 climaxes.

Alas, I wore myself out holding on to her while she was bucking around. I'd been on a flight the day before, and spent the day itself in tutorials (and running a lengthy errand on foot). I fizzled around this time, and was certain I was shot. BUT, lucky for me, she wasn't going to let what I did go unrequited. She proceeded to patiently nuzzle me for what seemed like 15 minutes or more, until I was hard again. And rather than risk me losing it during the time it would take to change positions and deploy latex (yes, I do accept the risk of unconvered oral), she just kept right going, going, going until I was gone.

In short, a wonderful time, well worth the effort on my part. If I'd had the time (and the money to spare), I'd have been glad to call her back for a second round later that week. But my cellphone died and I had to replace it, so I wasn't up for anymore unplanned expenses. Looking back, I kinda wish I'd let the cellphone go...

Dausa

A Chance to Explore New Ground

I'm in Portland, OR, this week for a convention. I haven't had sex in Oregon, so I'm looking forward to expanding my (geographic) horizons...

D