To Death

January 27, 2019

You’ll come regardless – why not today?
I await you – life is very hard.
I’ve killed the lights, cleared the way
For you, so simple, such a marvel.
Take on any shape you wish,
Burst in like a poisoned shell,
Sidle in like a slick bandit,
Or a typhus germ from hell.
Or a fairy-tale you’ve invented,
Always sickeningly familiar –
Where I see policemen’s heads,
And a concierge white with fear.
It’s all one now. The Yenisey swirling,
While the Pole star’s alight.
And in final terror closing
Blessed eyes, blue and bright.

Anna Akhmatova
(Anna Andreyevna Gorenko)
Trans. A.S. Kline

the writing process

January 27, 2019

For me, the writing process is something related to like exercising your body, taking a walk, stretching. It’s better if you do it on a regular basis. You won’t be as stiff, so all my life I’ve tried to write every day. It doesn’t have to be great. Doesn’t have to be even good. Just keep that pen rolling. Write down you know, whether you’re writing a journal of what’s been happening during the day or signs you saw that day or conversations you overhead.

It really doesn’t matter what you’re writing every day whether you’re working on a project at every given moment or not, but keep the pencil, the pen moving and the more you write, the more you feel writing as a process, as a world that can be shaped and reshaped and re-envisioned. I really love the word “revise,” like a new vision, revision or something and of course when you’re young you don’t realize that that’s the most fun part of writing, going back to something and, you know, throwing parts out, adding parts in, giving another scene, sharpening a conversation.

But the more you write, the more you treasure that part of it. So I still stick to my primitive travel with a pencil sharpener at all times, my primitive tactics and when I was a kid I felt happy to participate in the cheapest art as I saw it. You know, it seemed like kids who wanted to be ballerinas, for example, you know, that cost their parents a lot of money, a lot of tutus, a lot of lessons, a lot of shoes and to be a writer was like a dollar, $1 for a notebook, a pencil, a pencil sharpener.

So I always carry my tools with me and it’s very portable art, so I believe in writing every day and revising frequently and there’s nothing scary or negative about revision. It’s a very positive building, making part of the process.

Naomi Shihab Nye
Interview on


January 27, 2019

Domination, I have argued, is a twisting of the bonds of love. Domination does not repress the desire for recognition; rather, it enlists and transforms it. Beginning in the breakdown of the tension between self and other, domination proceeds through the alternate paths of identifying with or submitting to powerful others who personify the fantasy of omnipotence. For the person who takes this route to establishing his own power, there is an absence where the other should be. This void is filled with fantasy material in which the other appears so dangerous or so weak – or both – that he threatens the self and must be controlled. A vicious cycle begins: the more the other is subjugated, the less he is experienced as a human subject and the more distance or violence the self must deploy against him.

Jessica Benjamin
The Bonds of Love: Psychoanalysis, Feminism, & the Problem of Domination

I will never forget my first foray into phallic fucking. I was slow to the strapon game and in truth it is still not my preferred option. In fact my first love and I used no toys, taste and touch were enough. But leaving that relationship, realising that I was in fact gay and the previous 6 years hadn’t been a passing fancy, led me on a period of sexual exploration.

And that’s when I met Caro, an athletic, party dyke with a capacious sexual appetite. If Hannah had taught me how to love, Mel taught me to fuck…The strapon made its appearance at our third night together. When we first kissed that night she moved in close and I was shocked at the realisation of something large and hard in her jeans. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in years and I was immediately taken back to that first time as a young teenager when I felt my boyfriend’s erection. That amazing feeling of dread and desire, fear and thrill. I remember I gasped with surprise and Mel laughed at my innocence…

When ‘the moment’ came Mel had ‘prepared’ me wonderfully. To me this has been one of the differences between men with penis’ and women with straps – we know what its like and we make sure the receiver is ready. And the act of penetration was also more deliberate, not a shock thrust. Mel had positioned me on my back, legs spread fully wide and slowly fed (rather than thrust) her ‘cock’ inside me.

Trying to describe my first impressions. Shock through my whole body, rapture at that shock, my breath leaving my body as the shaft moved slowly, deeply into me. You have to remember that this was the first time in 7 years I had had more than 3 fingers inside me. So the girth of her phallus astonished me. But rather than thrust in and out of me Mel held her position as I absorbed her in me, revelling in the closeness of having her face to face and two arms holding me desperately. I showered her with bites and kisses wrapped my arms and legs around her and pulled her into me. For those who may never strap, this is the true thrill of strap ons. You both have full freedom of arms and hands. Of course, no woman can lay there, still, with a hard cock (plastic or real) for very long. And so I started to rock with my hips. Mel joined my movements and soon took control. Her grunts joined my moans and soon I was asking for harder, deeper, faster…Her reply was to pull out, turn me over and slide her slick sausage in from the rear. She then rapidly rodded me, pulling my hips back and forth with each thrust. I came quickly, hard, not one of those waves of clitoral shocks. No this was a sudden what the fuck BAM that exploded deep in my cunt and sent my mind spinning. I collapsed on the bed with Mel on top of me, her stiff stick still filling my trembling vagina. And in my ear she whispered “Good girl…”

Brigid B
Too Deep For Me

jerk himself off

January 27, 2019

He couldn’t even jerk himself off: there was no one to give him permission to come.

Casey K. Cox
Be My Boy

Send an angel

January 27, 2019

Did you ever notice how in the Bible, when ever God needed to punish someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?

Thomas Daggett
The Prophecy


January 27, 2019

Lady Claire: How do you know you’re God?

Jack Gurney: Simple. When I pray to Him, I find I am talking to myself.

Peter Barnes
The Ruling Class