As I write this, I'm watching Planet of the Apes. I adore these movies. Watching them, I find myself convinced that this would happen, and, of course, I'm always on the side of the apes.
I must admit: I have a crush on Caesar. It was during this scene that I realized why:
When Caesar screams "No!" in the ape holding facility, and everything goes immediately silent, it's as if the silence sucks sound out of the air. It's the first word he has spoken, and though he has known sign language throughout most of the movie, being able to speak draws Caesar into a different arena. But I will not say he becomes human. He is always an ape and that isn't something that should be apologized for, or excused as if its a handicap.
In the movie, Caesar's intelligence has changed him profoundly, not only giving him the ability to communicate and socialize with humans, but develop the abilities to use tools, plan out solutions to problems, and, ultimately, express compassion, morality, and made decisions which would be beneficial to his emotional and psychological well-being. As a leader he is a smart tactician with incredible just judgement.
This is why I have a crush on Caesar: because he's an incredible creature with an incredible mind. He is more interesting and compelling that most human male action heros in movies and on TV. In fact, most male action characters are so uninteresting, so unemotional and so unintelligent, it's a wonder that they could be considered human at all.
The fact that he's an ape isn't something to forget, but embrace, because his ape-ness adds to his sexiness. His ape-ness doesn't make him partly primitive: it categorizes him outside the realm of humanity. And that is sexy. Sexiness doesn't require humanity.
This blog is dedicated to Andy Serkis, who I feel never, ever, EVER gets appropriate credit and praise for his performances.
This confuses me, so I thought I'd use this venue to sort out my thoughts. I'm not into BDSM. By that, I don't participate in BDSM activities. Nor do I write BSDM fiction. I have read some BDSM fiction, but it's not something I seek out. I have known BDSM participants, and have found their tastes bewildering, yet I understand the master/slave dynamic. I have roleplayed online as a mistress, and sometimes it seems to tap into something dark within me, something sadistic and mean, but mostly I just go through motions.
And I LOVE BDSM images. But only certain images. Such as these:
I don't know why, and this came upon me suddenly. I literally realized one day that I was actively downloading and seeking out images of women tied up. But only certain images: only ropework, only artistic designs, only professionally photographed images, and, mostly, no face shots. This last element bothers me.
In order to grasp a handle on this, I picked out a few images of BDSM images that I dislike:
Almost all of them have faces, and a couple making direct eye contact with the camera. Those are the most disturbing: I feel challenged. Those women looking away are in distress: distress makes me uncomfortable. Some are performing sex acts or are spread open for sex: again, this seems too graphic, too explicit. I prefer suggestion over direct statements of sex. I don't like amateur pics because these are less artistic, the lighting off, the background disturbingly realistic. "Disturbingly realistic" encapsulates my philosophy of these photographs: I do not like them to have anything to do with everyday reality. They must embody fantasy, a painless dream where women are beautifully bound like wrapped Christmas presents.
Perhaps that's what I like most about these images: the women are there as beautiful presents for me to open or keep wrapped. They are pretty works of art, not "things", and not objects to fuck.
Most of all, they are under control.
This is Ariel and her alien. They are incredibly adorable and sexy together. Scroll down and see for yourself.
These pics aren't about an alien fetish, or an attempt to make a soft-core porno version of the X-Files and Agent Scully. It's much simpler than that.
This is about playfulness, irony, humor. It's sexy because it's clever and creative and unusual and there's so little of that in porn and erotica these days. Sex is usually depicted so seriously, discussed so earnestly, that there's little room to have fun. Ariel and her alien (and let's not forget that enigmatic enormous silver ball) and deliciously fun, lacking self-consciousness, and encourages us that things that are humorous and bizarre are also sexually arousing.
I chose this image as an introduction because this is the attitude my friends and I had while I was in grad school. Alcohol became a major component of my circle of friends, and pre-drinking our nights of drinking were common and necessary. And it was in this Bacchanal college life that I discovered my fetish for alcoholics.
I use the word "fetish" particularly, even though I'm referring to people. Let me quote the all-knowing Wikipedia:
Sexual fetishism or erotic fetishism is a sexual focus on a nonliving object or nongenital body part. The object of interest is called the fetish; the person who has a fetish for that object is a fetishist....In common parlance, the word fetish is used to refer to any sexually arousing stimuli, not all of which meet the medical criteria for fetishism. This broader usage offetish covers parts or features of the body (including obesity and body modifications), objects, situations and activities (such as smoking or BDSM).
So a fetish is a non-human object or action or features that stimulates the fetishist. An alcoholic wouldn't classify as a fetish because an alcoholic is a person.
But the way I have experienced it, alcoholics aren't people. They are artificially constructed performances. The person who does the performance seems to be themselves, but they aren't. Who they really are is someone different. The alcohol brings out something entertaining, complex, fun, exciting, suave, brave, witty, and sexy.
I've been with four alcoholics and none of them, at the height of their drunkenness, seemed like real people. They were too unreal, like a fantasy walking the earth. Everything they said was funny and perfect, everyone loved them and begged them to drink more and show up to more parties in the future. They seduced me with great craft and success, and, funnily enough, could hardly follow through on their physical promises.
There were negative sides, of course, but those were difficult to see. Fights could be terrible, and I would find myself screaming at them in the middle of the night. But even that was exciting in its own way. That level of anger can be thrilling, the relationship more dramatic, and the future in peril: would we ever make up? And when we did, would it be sublime?
All of the men were extremely artistic and intellectual and brilliant. And all of these qualities were made vibrant and electric by alcohol. I found myself just as electrified by them; it was an incredible endless circle of stimulation, fantasy, drama, disappointment and hope. But nothing ever worked out. Nothing survived of the relationships. Nothing could. We were all harming ourselves, in different ways, and it was doomed from the beginning.
Luckily, two of the four alcoholics I have known are now sober. The other two I have lost contact with completely. One of them, most likely, has drunk himself to death. I hope not. He was quite dazzling, though he never thought so sober.
I found this on Reddit, of course: Man Sexually Assaults Porsche in Thailand.
This behavior seemed vaguely familiar.
So I started hunting around the internet. And I found Edward:
Though the interview is thinly veiled mockery, I found his honesty surprisingly common---what I mean by that is, his descriptions of his physical desire for cars and the affections he feels are very similar to the descriptions of other non-human-philiacs give. For example:
“It is hugging and holding the shape of the car close to me and actually talking to it a little bit. And then of course, the rest is just physical satisfaction – masturbation is, I guess, the word.”
This isn't about fucking a tailpipe or looking for a vaginal shaped opening. Even the man in Thailand scans the body of the Porsche for a while, sizing it up like a man would a woman. The sexual attraction is to the shape, the car-ness of the object. There is a sensual appreciation for what it is, and stimulates a sexual response. Have biological wires gotten crossed somewhere in these men? We all have crossed biological wires.
What I would love to ask these men is, what is it like to drive one of these cars? I adore driving, and I imagine that if I was sexually aroused by a car, driving it would be an overwhelmingly erotic experience. Perhaps I will find them and ask them.
"Look at me"
Ten years ago I had an encounter with a young alcoholic who was fluent in Greek and Latin and had a passion for Classical Studies. He wooed me with ancient Roman artifacts, Absinthe from France and cannabis vodka. He had me at "alcoholic".
I knew it was a brief, fleeting encounter and though I could want more, I wanted to keep it "professional" (for lack of a better word) and remain distant, almost platonic. But during our encounter, when we had almost reached the apex of our "relationship", he asked me to look him in the eyes. And I did. And it changed everything. It was unfair, a low blow, and suddenly I started to think of him not as a mechanism or device, but as a human being who shared many of my interests and could have intelligent conversations and had an ample supply of absinthe.
Which brings us to the above porno gif: looking someone in the eyes changes the meaning of the encounter. Porn isn't about connection of minds, but the connection of genitals. Erotica involves eyes and artifacts and illegal vodkas. Porn doesn't need to be about personalities, no more than a toilet needs to have a heated seat to work.
But Erotica, good Erotica, Erotica with a capital "E", needs extreme, aggressive eye contact. We need fluttering eyelashes, wayward glances, and seductively drooping eyelids. Erotica is that moment when the man/woman asks their partner in the encounter to look them in the eyes, thereby changing and disrupting and making wonderful everything.
(As for the alcoholic, I bought a copy of Inferno to read, as it was his favorite and called him the next day. No answer, no return call, and I felt really, really, stupid. But I learned that men need to keep their eyes to themselves.)
I'm a rabid, crazed, hysterical, obsessed cricket fan. This is a big time for cricket as the IPL moves closer to its elimination round. So I've been chained to the TV, screaming and sighing as my teams are both amazing and sucking.
But I became inspired to find porn involving athletes. I could see the appeal as athletes seem superhuman in the things they could do, as well as exceptionally virile and masculine. I did a search and, of course, I found something interesting:
Aimed at gay men with a fetish for medical exams, Jockphysical.com promises prostate exams, embarrassing erections, and massage therapy. Boasting of now being "more medically invasive than ever before" they feature "'Urethral Sounding'" (yes, they put it in quotes). The male models are also "real authentic, genuine athletes." I admire the triple adjectives which assert that these are ACTUAL athletes.
Athletes are given full medical-ish profiles with all physical details offered:
This is aimed at gay men, but I could see straight/bisexual women being aroused by this. A form of BDSM, the patient in a medical exam is at the mercy of the doctor. The doctor must be invasive, go into intimate areas that only lovers are usually allowed. And the patient must be compliant.
The fact that these are athletes becomes even more exciting: the focus of the athlete is their body, something they are completely in control over. They must be in order to excel in their work. Most people will never be able to have that kind of physical awareness.
In a medical exam, the athlete is there for as much scrutiny possible. A doctor may touch any part of their body to see what is unusual (the muscles extremely toned, the legs very strong). Inadvertent erections betray the athlete--it is something they are not physically in control over. And the examining doctor has even more control, as their probings cause sexual excitement.
A last important detail for their gay audience is that all these athletes are assuredly straight. Why is this necessary? Because it only adds to the power of the doctor (and the audience of this examination becomes, by extension, the doctor). It is the fantasy of the gay man being able to touch and arouse the straight man, a figure who is sexually off limits.
I saw this years ago and, when I did, laughed and laughed with my friends. But we were very drunk at the time. I just watched it again and didn't laugh; it's difficult to laugh at such things anymore because I know that behind them, somewhere, is someone who is getting off to it and feels some kind of shame for it.
But when it comes to this video, and it's production values, it's hard keeping a straight face. And if anyone got off to it, I commend you for your dedication and lust.
It's the beast element that the film is attempting to capture: the sexual excitement of fucking an animal. Actually more than an animal, a ferocious, extinct beast that is at the top of the food chain. There's danger and the risk of becoming a beast through the coupling. It's a dangerous idea...if not a poorly executed one.
This is still my favorite porno of all time, though. And dinosaur erotica, it's dirty little sister, I will also greatly admire.
The pics below are only a few of the Suicide Girls. I could've picked a dozen more pics without even trying. I found them a few months ago and have been besotted ever since. Each has a first name (Maud, Katherine, Noirique, Bae, etc) and take the last name of Suicide. I haven't figured out yet if there's significance to "suicide", a deeper meaning behind the combination of sexy women and self destruction.
These women are considered "alternative pin ups". That's a term that gets bandied about Tumblr and other blog sites, but Suicide Girls are truly unusual adult models. What is immediately striking are their vibrant colors. They have hair every color possible, and always dyed to the deepest, purest shade, a fear unattainable by mere mortal women armed with peroxide and hair dye. Their bodies are covered in colorful tattoos, almost always done on skin that is a brilliant white. The contrast between the two causes incredible visual stimulation. I'd easily believe that their colors are part of the sexual stimulation they intend.
The girls are often photographed in homes, or outside in non descript settings. There is nothing luxurious about their sexuality. If anything, these are the smart mouthed pink girls you'd fuck in a ports potty at KROQ's Weenie Roast.
They have a website, do movies and have a traveling burlesque show. Plus their own subreddit, of course.
I've been extraordinarily open minded about sex ever since my first year in college, when I learned women could have orgasms. (I was a late bloomer in high school.) Nothing shocks me. All of it interests me. I can never get enough of it.
All of the pics in my blog are stolen/borrowed from other websites. I consider myself not really a thief, but a pirate. Arrrrrrr!!!
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crazy, dirty bastard.
And I thought I was fucked up.