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quote unquote

03 Monday Aug 2015

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EDDIE:

Study? You don’t go to Marrakech to study, darling. 

PATSY:

No you don’t! 

EDDIE:

There are lots of reasons to go to Marrakech and studying is not one of them, sweetie. You go to Marrakech for I don’t know, drugs, dirt-cheap plates and rugs.

PATSY:

Yeah, easy-going sex with gorgeous, under-age youths…

EDDIE:

Yeaaah. And sex changes, Pats? Well, not now, anyway. Not now, anymore.

— Absolutely Fabulous, Morocco (1994)

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train ride to lake orta: first glimpse of the lake

11 Thursday Jun 2015

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The lands between Milan and Lake Orta
starts off flat and drab; Milanese suburbs slowly turning into
farmland that holds little interest to the eye. It is at the village
of Novara that the first hint of the far-flung snow-tipped Alps
appear: misty, purple-white, a dramatic contrast to the cultivated
Italian lowlands.

Slowly the train ascends through the
grassy, vine-covered hills, whose walls close in so close that it
appears that we are traveling through a green tunnel. Then, suddenly,
the riotous, hilly landscape suddenly opens wide and falls away, the
last hill marked with a lone tower, a watch-post to warn against
armies of some long ago age that made their slow way up the valley
that the train now hurtles out of and there, below the tracks, lays
the deep alpine basin of the lake, whose sides are formed by forested
sharp cliffs and steep slopes that go right down to the water’s edge.

From where I sit I can’t see what lays
ahead of us, though I’m captivated by the sight of the distant
southern shore, where towers and domes and Moorish spires of the
village, San Maurizio D’opaglio, rise, all pink and orange and
yellow, sprouting up here and there between the endless waves of
chestnuts, walnuts and larch. Higher up along the towering granite
cliffs ancient villas can be seen; outposts of Medieval wealth where
the Milanese princes and bishops escaped the heat of the summer to
hide in their cool eyries.

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LOVE SONG WITH WITCHES

13 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by in Poetry, quote unquote

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babylon-crashing:

I.

Sleepless, magic night

your fingers and legs spread wide

exploring new worlds.

II.

There is no sin, just

a dark forest first

came the drum, da-da,

and then came the song.

III.

At fourteen I talked to ghosts with
black mud,

bud and cheap blood running in the
acid.

There was a glamour but I did not understand

anything that they were trying to say.

IV.

If you must belong to a tribe, come. No

one has loved you with lips and
fingers, laid

with you until the moon’s day-face
faded

with the dawn. None have brought you
lover’s gifts.

We are a tribe of never-was. We are

a tribe of all of us that might have
been.

V.

Hear me. This is no gift. Here be
witches,

vhukneri. This is your clitoris,

tslik. This is my tongue, lezu. They
call

this witchcraft, kakhardut’yun. A
shaman

must ride a long-tongued ghost to learn
all her

occult secrets. You, blood heart, must
ride me.

VI.

To be a corpse bride, to find a long
dead

lover, to have your crazy hair caught
up

in the air, saints preserve, in a
forest

first came the drum, then the song, for
I am

singing, I am drumming. No one hears
me.

VII.

At the crossroads you shall find all:
this song,

hashish cakes and shadows. Ride me, I
am

your drum, singing your way back home.
I am

a hard ride. Together we will go far.

><><><><

NOTE:

The foreign words I use are Armenian:

ՎՀՈՒԿՆԵՐԻ (vhukneri) =
witches.

ԾԼԻԿ (tslik) = clitoris.

ԼԵԶՈՒ (lezu) = tongue.

ԿԱԽԱՐԴՈՒԹՅՈՒՆ
(kakhardut’yun) = witchcraft.

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self-portrait [nude]

13 Wednesday May 2015

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ghostsista:

In the photograph, I stand
naked, my back to the camera,
peering in through the window
of the bar at the the older
women, their gaze direct and
unafraid, the ones who’ve been
to the gym, their breasts more
muscle than fat, thick, butch
waists, their arms massive, thighs
with sinews bigger than my
head; but no, there is no bar,
no window, just a blank wall
and me, standing naked.

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erotic narrative in the form of comments left on a myspace blog

26 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by in Erotic, quote unquote, story

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August
7, 2010 1:39 PM

Hmmm
this picture is truly amazing.

I
love the way the only thing covering you is your instrument.

I
love the creepy way you approach the camera.

I
love the way you move your hands which should be covering my body
with such incredible force that it leaves bruises all over my fragile
body =]

I
want you. I mean if you could tell.

*
*  *

Aug
5, 2010 4:11 AM

Hmmmm.

Yeah
that’s sound absolutely blissful.

I
think…well i mean…Hmmm.

YOU
should be here right now going balls deep insida me because im crazy
bored and you are crazy fucking delicious!

Sooooo
get here fast loll.

And
we don’t have to go to the zoo unless you have this crazy fantasy to
super bang at a zoo.

Lol
just saying =]

Oh
yeah and uhm some of those pics aren’t that exciting lol. trust me

*
*  *

Aug
5, 2010 2:22 AM

Oh
my you really are orgasmic in every fucking way.

I
live in Montana. =]

And
i would bring my body so inhumanly close to yours if you were here
right now because im so beyond greedy about you right now that i
would tie you up and keep you all for myself

*
*  *

Aug
4, 2010 5:01 PM

Well
that just sent the little voice in my head screaming “Lock that
shit down!”

Hmmm
i think we should get married and have babies!

Hahaa
syke!

Naw
for real though you are amazing and i super wish i WAS blinfolded on
my hands and knees waiting for you.

Because
that sounds super fun. =P

*
*  *

August
3, 2010 6:49 PM

I
like this pic you should default….

And
by this pic i mean your body. which is bangin.

And
by default i mean shove me agaisnt the wall and nibble on my lips =]

*
*  *

Aug
3, 2010 2:13 PM

Mmmmmkay.

Lol
and i like the way you say divine it’s fucking delicious!

*
*  *

Aug
2, 2010 6:16 AM

MMmm
no it would be more like i shove you down on the bed.

And
rub on you till your hard.

Then
get up and slowly strip off my clothes till your body aches for mine.

Then
ill crawl into your lap and start bouncing up and down on your dick.

Then
when you’re too tired to move i kiss lower to your neck…then your
chest…

Down
to your tummy…lower and lower till i get to your penis then i wrap
my lips around you and suck you dry.

*
*  *

Aug
1, 2010 8:39 AM

Hmmmmm
that pic comment was perfection.

Im
totally horny and i want your nuts super bad.=]

*
*  *

Aug
1, 2010 4:21 PM

You’re
really hott we should bang ;]

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moby dick in drag [review]

26 Sunday Apr 2015

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Personally
I could never understand why Melville took a perfectly good 120 page
guide to sailor’s knots and the best use of sperm whale blubber and fucked it up with a narrative that simply gets in the way of what
this book is really about: a guide to everything whale-y.

It has chapters with titles like, “Chapter 57:
Of Whales in Paint; In Teeth; In Wood; In Sheet-Iron; In Stone; In
Mountains; In Stars.“ And then you read it and sure enough it
talk exactly about that! That’s why it is so great, it’s so ubber that post-modern critics have been mistaking it for literature ever since
1938. Ok, I won’t give away what happens in “Chapter 73: Stubb and
Flask Kill a Right Whale; and Then Have a Talk Over Him,” but it
involves a nautical superstition that says a whaler ship with a cut-off
sperm whale’s head stuck on her starboard side and a cut-off right
whale’s head stuck on her larboard will never capsize … which has
absolutely no relevance to the rest of the story but this book is
full such (dare I say it?) red herrings. 

But again, I can understand
if readers want to skip over the vague, homoerotic story in the beginning about
Ishmael and Queequeg sharing a wedding bed and jump right to “Chapter 94: A Squeeze of
the Hand,“ where Ishmael is carried away with enthusiasm for the
“sweet and unctuous” spermaceti cut out of the heads of
whales, requiring the sailors to sit on deck, all day long, squeezing
it back into liquid form. There is nothing vague about that at all.

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the start of all my favorite fairy tales:

20 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by in Erotic, quote unquote

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The hungry ghost kissed him lightly on
the neck, then licked his face clean, savoring the taste of his
tears. “Your first orgasm has to be given to
me freely,” she whispered in his ear. “But after that, darling,
all the rest are mine.” …

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Lalleshwari: clad only in sky

19 Sunday Apr 2015

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These are two translations of the same poem:


Dance, Lalla, with nothing on

but air. Sing, Lalla,

wearing the sky.


Look at this glowing day! What clothes

could be so beautiful, or

more sacred?   

Barks, Coleman. Naked Song. Lalla. Athens, GA: Maypop, (1992)

<><><><>


Dance then, Lalla, clothed but by the
air;

Sing, thou, Lalla, clad but in the sky.

Air and sky: what garment is more fair?


Dance then Lalla, clothed by the air;

Sing then Lalla, clad but by the sky.

Air and sky; what garmant is more fair?

‘Cloth’, saith custom; ’ doth that
sanctify?’

Temple, Sir Richard Carnac. The
words of Lalla, The Prophetess: Being the sayings of Lal Ded or Lal
Diddhi of Kashmir. Cambridge University Press (1924)

<><><><><><>

Lalleshwari (1320–1392) was a female mystic of the Kashmiri Shaivite sect. She was a creator of the mystic poetry called vatsun or Vakhs, literally “divine speech.”  As a child she was married at the age of 12 into a family that was reported to have regularly mistreated her. After becoming a disciple of Sidh Srikanth, she renounced her material life and marriage to become a devotee of the god Shiva. As a mystic, she wandered naked, reciting her proverbs and quatrain-based poems. Her verses are the earliest compositions in the Kashmiri language and are an important part in history of Kashmiri literature.