Listen Up!

Earth to Moon in Aquarius:




A Full Moon Reflection: Think about the one who's stripped you of freedom and rip off their balls.

In Between Mary's Legs

On my father’s headstone it reads, “Loving Father and Son of God.” Jokingly, then, my mother asked my sisters and I if she, by association, was Mary Magdalene. Everyone laughed while I continued to draw my own conclusions about her admission. Mary Magdalene was, lest we forget, according to Christian tradition, a whore. Yet, even though Mary was whore, Christ embraced her with open arms.

I should’ve known I was headed down The Path of Whore. As a young never-been kissed sixth grader, I dressed up as a prostitute for Halloween. Equipped with my skull n’ bones earrings, stocking, black boots, and mini, I was ready to hit the streets- in sub-zero temperatures. Determined, I walked through the neighborhood without a coat and my bag of tricks. When I finally returned, I ate every last piece of candy in a sugar-induced frenzy. Whore training was about to commence.

Over the next year, I got my period, brought on an orgasm with a shampoo bottle, and read through my mom’s entire copy of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” at least ten times. I started talking to my peers about sexuality. I found more books and kissed a boy. I pulled a Playboy magazine out of a pile of trash with my best friend, Stephen, and disappeared into the woods with him to look. I can still recall the woman’s face and how she sat with her legs spread. I thought she was beautiful and imagined myself touching her.

Fast forward a few years, and I’m pulling down my skirt at my Catholic high school. Strange men fuck me, and I revel in their sweet release. I declare war on religion and fuck myself into a rebellion. I write the words, “I am in touch with my Mary Magdalene energy” in red lipstick across the mirror and rub one off in the bathroom with a picture of Christ hanging above me on the wall.

Would Christ, if living today, hold contemporary whores in the same esteem as he did then? Would Mary sit at his right-side at the Last Supper as an equal? And, if she did, how would the Church react?

Sadly, modern day Christianity views Christ’s affection for her as a by- product of his compassionate nature while denying the possibility of any actual real attraction or mutual respect between the two. Now, this in and of itself, is not a fantastic revelation. Artists like Tori Amos, for example, have been exploring the Christ/Whore creative territory for quite some time. Through her music, she explicitly links sexuality, religion, and revolution in one breath.

Thank you Tori.



As any tried & true whore knows, religious rebellion is a natural extension of fucking. Religion has given humanity specific instructions about how we are to conduct ourselves sexually. Masturbation is a sin, procreation is the goal, within, of course, the bounds of a little sacrament we call marriage. Anything outside of that very limited scope is deviant behavior and is shunned menacingly. From Sunday School Day 1 to Church Sermon 5,061, our heads become the dumping ground for every last shame-fueled thought.

Children are indoctrinated into this faulty belief system. Then, they are expected to move out into the world, interact, and form relationships with others based on the poison they’ve swallowed.

Many people are satiated with knowledge they’ve inherited. They have no other model and no desire to discover. They accept their fate easily.

Are we even aware of the cycle we’re stuck in? How do we “undo” all of the damage we’ve sustained? And what about this new model?

I have often said how we approach our sexuality is a metaphor for how we view life. If the source of life (sex) is dirty, humanity, as a whole, is in trouble. We’ve dimmed the light of The Source (God/Sex) down to practically nothing. This is dark space, indeed.

Just gimme the light,

Love,

S.S.

Survival Tips for the Hungry Love Struck

This is the House of Sally Sun. The house music pounds hard. The needle jumps off the record and skips a beat. Confusion follows a moment of silence, and then, a startling thud when the loud speakers are whipped into the wall.

Welcome.

Hang your hat next to the half-assed flute playing riddlers.

Tape their fucking mouths shut.

Place your shoes on top of Billy’s pathetic fifth grade crayola homework.

Smear dirt across the page.

Sit down.

Wait.

Mistress Power

Mistress Maybe: Clive James

“Is that your wife
your girlfriend
or just your main bitch?”*

Imagine a bunch of frat boys standing around high-fiving each other while they stroke egos. Visualize them recounting one of their random exploits. Then, witness as a witty member of their whore-hating posse declares with a clever smile, “Guys, you can’t turn a ho into a housewife" and the maniacal laughter that follows.

Their intelligent phraseology is meant to insult women of a morally bereft disposition while they wipe their ass clean of any responsibility for the encounter. But what these poor misguided frat boys don’t realize is most whores would rather choke on a fully erect cock than be their one and only, or hell, even just their “main bitch.” Erroneously, they assume every woman wishes to inhabit girlfriend/wife territory.

Well, gee girls, aren’t I a lucky duck? He picked me!

Unfortunately, now I’ve got another job (i.e. the care and feeding of a bottomless pit). Men have been programmed to expect the servant feminine because their mothers either engrained an attitude of entitlement in their psyches, or because of a lack of nourishment in their primary bond. Emotional vampirism runs at full throttle for those men who assign all of their emotional development to their partner. They want to be fed, nurtured, comforted, and consoled- constantly.

It’s not a surprise, then, why one would gladly pawn off this responsibility on another woman. Who wants to (metaphorically) wash socks all day? As appealing as it sounds, some women instinctively understand this is not a position of power. Not only does one lose value sexually, the interest factor is reduced considerably. Nobody wants to bang the maid, although, modern day Cinderella stories would like to convince us (women) otherwise. Realistic sluts, on the other hand, understand the maid/servant is the most unnoticed, under-appreciated, powerless woman in the tribe. So, she would rather slip into the less demanding of the two roles- the mistress.

There are people in the world, like mistresses, who defy tradition. They challenge society’s notions about love, sex, and relating. Mistresses embrace another brand of “being”. However, it wasn’t always so. Mistresses of the past were used as concubines, still dependent on the support of their lover. The unspoken agreement was, “I’ve got my normal life/wife, but she bores me and I’d like to fuck you.” The mistress accepted the offer under the conditions that financial support would be provided, but no emotional support. Unfortunately, the mistress’s survival was still hinged upon the male dollar (power).

Fast forward a few hundred years, and now, women are beginning to recognize the Cinderella story is a big fucking lie. Additionally, there is no need to barter our security for sex anymore, if you’ve got a little ambition and aren’t afraid of some hard work. However, there is a particular Brand of Pathetic out there who falls into the mistress role expecting her fellow will eventually ditch the old model and upgrade. But this, my friends, is a gross misuse of mistress power.

“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies.”

Mistresses who embrace power know they have it when the illusion is sparkly. When the glitter fades they are nothing more than a girlfriend in waiting. And, since “girlfriend in waiting” is almost as desperate as a “bride in waiting”, one needs to guard against the onset of reality.

Mistresses are able to maintain their air of mystery and intrigue precisely because they have no desire for love in the mundane. They allow their lover to escape from the heaviness of their primary bond to a “wonderful land of make believe.” The mistress guides her lover into a new state of fluidity. Lovers lose themselves in a sea of passion and release, while idealistic fantasies about fusion and unconditional love are exchanged without expectations.

Any savvy mistress knows, internally, she has the upper hand. He will return to his regular life craving her body, her scent, and her lips. He will dream of her, unable to capture the beauty of the bond during normal waking hours. But, who will wash the floors? Who will scrub the dishes clean? Who will care for the children? And, most importantly, who will deal with his moods, temper, smelly feet, and long-winded repetitive speeches about nothing? She will!

The mistress is not expected to assist with maintaining a functional reality, and really, why would she want to? Reality is a cruel taskmaster and isn’t compatible with beautiful visions of adoration. As long as the mistress harbors no illusions about the bond, she is able to freely fuck as she chooses.

Fuck me, put your pants back on and kindly leave, sir.

As most of you are aware, Sally is one bitch who enjoys a good power play. Thus, the mistress role fits like glove. Even if the dude has no other woman he’s fucking, living with, or married to, one can still create the dynamics of a naughty mistress-like tryst. It’s not terribly hard to do. Men have Prince Charming fantasies of their own and will eagerly fall off the edge of the Earth with you for a few hours. It’s very important, however, to quickly pull back afterwards. A smart mistress understands human reflexology and uses it to her advantage. Leave him with a wistful feeling, like he almost had it, but it slipped right from his fingers.

Whimper.
Feed.
Release.

It is the pattern we adhere to.

And so it goes.....SS

*Lyrics: Rollout: Ludacris

Playing Doctor

No, this post will not be about fairies. I just liked the pretty picture.

I often like pretty pictures whether it’s a person viewed as an object, or an actual piece of art.

Hence, Dr. Dude.

Dr. Dude is an ICU nurse who I happened to meet walking down the streets of a strange city late at night in my cute multi-colored summer dress, heels slung over my shoulder, a little tipsy, but, nonetheless, feeling conversational. Dr. Dude recognized me immediately and called out, “hey, I know you, you’re from _______ right?” To which I replied, “Why yes, Doctor, I am.” Turns out, he was staying at the same hotel as I was, so, we continued to chat in the lobby while he checked in.

Dr. Dude is 30 years old, but looks all of 23 years old (Damn Gemini’s and their anti-aging superpowers!) Anyway, he’s a pretty sexy boi, and was very interested in conversing with moi, so naturally I was all ears. At the last minute, I gave him my number, leaned over, kissed his cheek, and left him standing in the hotel elevator.

Dr. Dude is prime catch, ladies. Good job, sexy bod, smart, witty, fun… BUT…………and a big BUT at that…. he’s a devout Christian, wants marriage AND kids. So, what in the hell is he doing hanging out with likes me?

I feel a little more than selfish snatching this guy up for my own personal enjoyment while some people struggle to simply get a date. I guess I’m just a gluttonous lust-filled pig. I want, I want, I want!

The thing is, Dr. Dude has decided to save himself for marriage. Although he is not a virgin, it’s been a long time since he’s engaged in the horizontal mambo.

Like 12 years or so.

Seems Dr. Dude is a bit of a freak boi, yet does not engage in any type of penetration, save anal. And folks, anal is not for the faint of heart. The guy really fascinates me. Being an artiste of seduction, I have formulated a plan to see how far I can carry on with the lust until I break him down. Yes, it’s an evil plot and the characters are actual people, but doesn’t it sound fun?

And did I mention he has the best ass I’ve ever seen?

Even if he has tendency to read bible verses to me at 12:30 in the morning, I can over look it. Because. That Ass. Heh. Makes me sweat just thinking about it.

Someday I will actually post about something relevant like Hamas and Fatah, or The Up Coming Primaries, or hell…ending poverty. Someday I may even return to my feminist roots and write something on the subject or any subject other than my own self-indulgent pleasure-seeking indecent activities. It could happen. Just not today.

The “I don’t care about your marriage” post.

“And the license said you had to stick around until I was dead
But if you're tired of looking at my face, I guess I already am” - Divorce Song, Liz Phair

How many hideously trite conversations about marriage should I have to endure in one day?

Conversation observed in my office’s lunch room:

Balding middle-aged guy: “You know Bob and Shelia have been together for 70 years!”

To which the rest of the room replied with their random “Oh’s and Ah’s, and Wow’s”.

I could feel the chunks rising in my throat as I tried to keep my lunch down. Readers, it was hard. Stare at the same person for 70 years? Why, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a pairing-knife.

What is it about our culture that celebrates this monotony, this willingness to submit ourselves to routine till death do we part? How can this be fun or even remotely enjoyable? It’s not that I have a problem with individual marriages per se, as I am sure Bob and Shelia are just tickled pink with one another. Good for them. However, I would argue that marriage, as an institution/societal structure, is PURE BULLSHIT.

The truth is men need marriage more than women.

There, I said it.

Now, I’m not commenting on previous generations, during which men and women managed to tolerate each other for a whole slew of fucked up reasons (for women: lack of economic, political, social power, for men: cheap unpaid domestic labor, women as status symbols ect..oh, and to avoid the stigma of divorce) Even though this still occurs, women can own property, vote, get paid a decent wage, get an education, and have domain over their bodies through reproductive freedom. The tables have turned, at least in the US and Western Europe. So, what is it about marriage that’s appealing today now that it’s not being used as a tool for survival (in most cases)?

Well, there are still those damn societal expectations. We are to A) Get Married, B) Have Children, and C) Die Quickly and Efficiently as to not trouble others (i.e. the state or relatives). Along the way we are to acquire as many possessions as possible while using as many resources as possible. Yes, Americans, Shop, Have Babies, and please, Don’t Ask Too Many Questions. In that order.

Marriage, as an institution, is supposedly a rite of passage we are told (especially women) that we should be more than eager to partake in. It’s sold to us just like all the other trash out there. The Las Vegas quickie, the 6 month mistake, and yes, even the 70 year snore- fest, all have their place in our consumer-driven society. The marriage business is big business, diamonds, the dresses, the food, the party, all add up. Yes, there are those who elope reducing the time, money, and energy spent, but still, there is a lot of money being exchanged for a fairy tale. From the white dress to the obnoxiously large cake, it’s all gravy baby.

Then, there’s the whole issue of what to do once you are married. Do you sit in silence and stare absent-mindedly at the same person for the rest of your natural life? I think my generation is particularly lost on this issue. Marriage, as a structure, may provide support in the context of childrearing, but other than that, why bother? I understand the practical elements of insurance, retirement planning ect… but for a girl like me, with my own insurance, my own retirement accounts, financial acumen and the skills to make a decent living for myself, what is the point?

For me, marriage as an institution was irrelevant from day one. I never wanted to put my well-being (financial, or otherwise) in the mercy of another’s hand. It seems foolish and most of all, boring.

Although Bob and Shelia, I’m sure, have enjoyed their 70 years together, it’s not to say everyone else would. I’d probably suffocate slowly, dying just a little each day as my independence was stripped from me, moment by moment.

Dramatic? Maybe. But all the same, I think I’ll pass.

Your Favorite Femme-Bot Examines Marriage

Look closely at this picture, dear readers. What is the overall message here? The picture portrays a man in mid-asking. Obviously, this man on bended knee is asking the young woman for her hand in marriage. However, there are other factors to analyze in the landscape within the frame. The imagery in this artwork is amazing.

First of all, the man’s face is frozen in an expectant expression. He seems to be saying with his eyes, “Will you?” He’s crouched forward in anticipation of her answer. His overall appearance is somewhat frumpy evidenced by his rounded belly and large backside, which actually is somewhat feminine if you look closely.

He is also gesturing with his right-hand to the old man sitting in the chair behind the “bride-to-be”. This older man is looking forward, indicating he has made up his mind, and is not concerned with the bride-to-be’s reaction. Does she like her suitor? Is there love between them?

This father figure is oblivious to her negative reaction, and is looking ahead in anticipation of what seems to be his daughter’s impending arranged marriage. The young man seems desperate, sensing his future bride’s disgust, and gestures towards the patriarchal father, as if to say to the girl, “See, even your Dad approves, in fact, in his mind, you’ve already been married off.”

Next, let’s look at the bride-to-be. Her left arm is drawn back toward her breast, as if to say, “I, sir, belong to myself, and never to you, I will not be sold to you like a piece of furniture.” The cross necklace around her neck symbolizes her commitment to Christ, as a divine marriage between herself and Him. She, the Virgin Bride, will have no part in a marriage of mere mortals. Her facial expression reveals the strict judgment she has passed upon the groom-to-be. Clearly, he does not meet her standards.

Interestingly, the couple sitting to the right adds to the imagery. The woman is sitting with what presumably could be her husband, evidenced by the body language between the two. This woman has cast a look of anxiety and worry in the direction of the bride-to-be. Her expression is fearful as she inches closer towards her husband, her safety net.

What would happen if the bride-to-be didn’t accept the invitation and defied her father? How would this woman support herself, how would she live? For the woman sitting with her husband, marriage is a tool for survival. These men represent a woman’s future, economically and socially. Where there is no marriage, there is no security. Thus, women are “sold” to potential suitors with great zeal in the marriage market. Get these girls married off so they are protected and provided for, for god’s sake!

The man sitting next to the woman on the right, presumably her husband, seems somewhat entertained by the situation. However, his left arm is propped up on his hip in defiance as if to say, “Let’s see how far you can get honey without the help of this man.”

And lastly, the man in the back standing next to the fire place has obviously lost his love. The bride-to-be will be forced to marry the boy on his knee, and he will lose her. His expression seems pained as he looks on at her predicament. The father is totally lost to this young woman; yet, the man in the background does take notice. He is only person in this picture who actually seems concerned about the bride’s feelings toward the groom. Although, his hand, placed in his front pocket, seems to indicate he has resigned to the inevitable. There is nothing he can do.

So, why write this tremendously verbose explanation for this picture? Dear Readers, it personifies the horrendous conditions under which women were bartered in a marriage system designed to benefit a patriarchal society. Collectively, these attitudes still remain entrenched in our society.

Many of us have witnessed our own mothers using marriage as a tool for survival. The humiliation women face as a result of being associated with this type of situation cannot be avoided. We can assure others our marriages are about love, but what is the hard reality we’re facing here? Can we make our house payment without our husband’s income? Can we manage our financial future with confidence even without our significant other?

If not, as women, we will experience our relationships as being necessary to our survival, and we are diminished. We are diminished because we have put ourselves at the mercy of another’s hands. This, with the divorce rate at over 50%, is unacceptable. There is also the annoying fact of our impending death. We are mere mortals, and at some point, our “security” maybe ripped out from underneath us through death.

We need to be responsible for our own survival. As women, we cannot, in good faith, hinge all of our hope for the future upon another person’s care of us. And this needs to be addressed on all levels in our lives, financially, emotionally, physically, we must be learn to care for ourselves with the same dedication we were taught, as women, to care for others.

The woman in the picture didn’t have choice. In the old system, women were property (and still remain so in other parts of the world today!) and distributed to their masters accordingly. Now, we do have choice, and choice is an amazing thing, it provides for the freedom we’ve been craving. But still, it’s up to us to use it, let’s not pass up the opportunity to grow stronger, wiser, and more responsible in our world.

I leave you with a tribute to an old favorite… Ani D, no one does it better than her.

Not a Pretty Girl- Ani DiFranco

i am not a pretty girl
that is not what i do
i ain't no damsel in distress
and i don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

i am not an angry girl
but it seems like i've got everyone fooled
every time i say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

and i am sorry
i am not a maiden fair
and i am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally i agree with them
trouble is you gotta have yourself an alternate plan
and i have earned my disillusionment
i have been working all of my life
and i am a patriot
i have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if i knew that and i called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up

i am not a pretty girl
i don't want to be a pretty girl
i want to be more than a pretty girl

Don't bruise your knees while you're waiting