Six Apologies, Lord

I Have Loved My Horrible Self, Lord.
I Rose, Lord, and I Rose, Lord, And I
Dropt. Your Requirements, Lord. 'Spite Your Requirements, Lord,
I Have Loved The Low Voltage Of The Moon, Lord,
Until There Was No Moon Intensity Left, Lord, No Moon Intensity Left
For You, Lord. I Have Loved The Frivolous, The Fleeting, The Frightful
Clouds. Lord, I Have Loved Clouds! Do Not Forgive Me, Do Not
Forgive Me LordandLover, HarborandMaster, GuardianandBread, Do Not.
Hold Me, Lord, O, Hold Me

Accountable, Lord. I Am
Accountable, Lord.

Lord It Over Me,
Lord It Over Me, Lord. Feed Me

Hope, Lord. Feed Me
Hope, Lord, Or Break My Teeth.

Break My Teeth, Sir,

In This My Mouth.

- by Olena Kalytiak Davis

(thanks, polymexina)

Crowned

You came to me bearing bright roses,
Red like the wine of your heart;
You twisted them into a garland
To set me aside from the mart.
Red roses to crown me your lover,
And I walked aureoled and apart.

Enslaved and encircled, I bore it,
Proud token of my gift to you.
The petals waned paler, and shriveled,
And dropped; and the thorns started through.
Bitter thorns to proclaim me your lover,
A diadem woven with rue.

- by Amy Lowell

Vicarious

Jonathan Carroll recently wrote the following:

Life scars us. It is inevitable.We learn to live with those scars, or they kill us long before we actually die. Small scars, large, scars as long and deep as the ocean—they define us; they become a part of our life map. A friend of mine recently lost a child and asked what she should do now that it was gone. I said it seems to me that the best thing to do now is to live for both of you. Show your lost child what life is all about and carry them on your soul like someone giving a child a piggyback ride. Show her everything you can that *you* love about life and maybe even more, if that’s possible. They still live inside you, so let them see life through your eyes. The more involved in life you are, the more they will see. The more you retreat from life, you will be depriving them of a beautiful view. Maybe that means some big things must be changed in your life. Things that scare you, things you don’t WANT to change. But you must if you are to move forward and allow your spirit child to enjoy the wonders of your life. now lived for two.

This immediately got my mind working in a similar, but off-kilter direction.

I have never lost a child. But I have fictional personalities and characters alive within me. I don't mean in a Sibyl or Tyler Durden sort of way, but created through my writing and role-playing. So perhaps I live my life bigger to share it with these alter-egos. In effect, am I living vicariously through myself?

Just Me Being Silly

So What Do I Do, Exactly? I Move It, Move It!

I do a bunch of things. One of the things I want to do is teach you. If you are in the Kitchener area, please consider one (or more) of my classes. I teach both men and women.

I teach session belly dance classes at the Rockway Seniors' Centre, at 1405 King Street East on Wednesdays from 6:30-7:30. You do not need to be a senior to take classes here with me, but these classes are less get-up-and-down-off-the-floor than at my other venues to accommodate for the senior citizens who do attend. Classes go throughout the year. The next session begins Wednesday, January 19. For more information on prices, or to register, phone 519-741-2508, or drop by the front desk. I believe there are discounts for seniors and for members at the Rockway Centre, but even without the discounts, the prices are very reasonable.

I teach drop-in belly dance classes at Chris Walker's Fitness at 301 King Street East, Unit 201. That's near the corner of King and Eby, right across from the Kitchener farmers market. Those classes are every Monday from 7:30-8:30. Classes are $12 + HST.

I also lead fitness boot camp classes at Chris Walker's Fitness. These run Thursday nights from 7:00-8:00, and I will make you work hard, regardless of whether you're FOC (Fresh Off the Couch) or a champion athlete. Come for a mix of calisthenics, isometrics, plyometrics, and sweat! Classes are $12 + HST, or you can register for the bootcamp program and save money while you get yourself in magnificent shape. Magnificent, I tell ya!

For a free one-week membership to Chris Walker's Fitness, go here.

I teach private dance and fitness classes at Chris Walker's Fitness. If you, or you and a few friends would like to study with me, and these times don't work for you, or you want something tailored particular to your interests, let me know. Group discounts are available.

The ShanMonster: Pornstar Extraordinaire

This is a repost from February 16, 2000

I just found another interesting site. This one is called Victims of Pornography. The site seems to exposit the view that pornography ultimately victimizes good Christians.

Here is the list of victims from their opening page:

1. Wives of men pre-occupied with pornography and the sex industry.
   
2. Women who are being treated with disrespect and sexually abused.
   
3. Young women trapped in an industry that exploits them and uses them as mere sex objects.
   
4. Boys and girls that have lost their innocence by viewing pornography at an early age.
   
5. Children used for the sexual satisfaction of fathers, stepfathers, and men they trusted.
   
6. Young men exposed to a false image of sexuality.
   
7. Men who just can't stop using pornography or stimulating themselves while recalling those images.
   
8. Society that has become desensitized to the pure nature of sexuality.
   
9. Neighbors that have increased crime and decreased property values because of the proliferation of pornography in
   their communities.

Wow. Porn really sucks, doesn't it? Look at all those poor victims in Leave-It-To-Beaver-Land. Tsk tsk.

Let's look at things from the other side of this beautiful, white picket fence. I know it's a huge leap, but let's pretend I am a porn star. Here's how it all happened:

I was stuck in a go-nowhere job. I knew if I didn't find something better-paying soon, I'd end up on welfare, or living out of a cardboard box. On my days off, I went from business to business, trying to get a fulltime job doing anything from pretzel-making to telemarketing, but had no luck. Then, one fateful day, a nude Ron Jeremy drove into town and said, "You can be a star!" Asia Carrera was beside him in his fancy car, wearing thigh-high leather boots, crotchless knickers, and an orange feather boa.

"I can really be a star?" I asked. "That's all well and good, but I'm already a minor internet celebrity, and the only money I get from that is a pittance from my affiliation with amazon.com."

"Oh, we can change all that," he said. "You can get rich quick! Pornography is a very lucrative industry."

"But I really don't want to boff a bunch of people. Promiscuity isn't really my thing," I explained. "In fact, I think I'd like to be a born-again virgin."

"That's okay," said Asia. "You don't necessarily have to have sex to be in the pornography business. You could be a dominatrix. I see you already have the boots for it."

I smiled happily, looking down at my lace-up shitkickers. Then I watched in anticipation as she reached into a large, black leather case and pulled out a cat o' nine tails. She twitched it lightly on one patent-leatherclad leg, then passed it to me. "Give it a whirl," she coaxed.

I flicked it in the air, and listened as the leather bits made a lovely swishing sound, then I smacked Ron's flabby grey arse. "On your knees, worm!" I crowed.

"That's the spirit," said Ron. "You're well on your way to a career in pornography!"

"Wow!" I cried. "I'll never have to be exploited in the grocery business ever again."

"That is true," said Asia. "However, you must realize you may be victimizing the wives of good, Christian men who really ought to be praying instead of looking at naughty magazines, videos, and websites. In fact, while you're looking so sexy in your latex body stockings and waist cinchers, conservative Baptist men will be paying for the privilege of being sworn at while doing your housework and wearing frilly white panties."

"Hmm, that will be a tough issue. I don't know if my conscience could take people willingly paying for my services.... Yeah, right!"

Ron interjected. "There are some other things you might like to know. Women are being disrespected and being sexually abused."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," I said.

"Oh, that's okay, then," said Ron. "Before I forget, I have to tell you that you'll also be trapped in an industry which treats you like a sex object."

"But isn't it an industry that will also give me, er, pardon the expression, more bang for my buck? I mean, I work very very hard all day hustling heavy bags of flour and dogfood, I'm not allowed to go to the bathroom or have a glass of water with me, I don't have enough time on my break to eat properly, and I don't make enough money to pay the rent or buy the very food I sell all day. I'm treated like an automaton. I'd rather be a sex symbol than a mindless robot. How can being a wage slave be seen as less exploitative than making enough money to live quite comfortably on without suffering anything more than a possible mishap in my personal dungeon?"

"Beats me," said Asia, "but we still have to tell you that. It's the Christian thing to do."

Ron coughed. "There's also the matter of the children."

"Children? What children?" This confused me.

"Any children," said Ron, "if they see pornography, they will lose their innocence."

"Innocence? I don't believe children are necessarily innocent. I never saw porn when I was a kid, but you should've seen the stuff I got up to! Besides, I really think a kid accidentally seeing a porno is much more preferable than a kid seeing her or his parents come home from work too tired to do anything but scream at one another, or throw frying pans and knives about the room."

Asia frowned. "But if a kid sees sex, that would be very, very bad."

This exasperated me. "That's all well and good for people who can afford homes with privacy, but imagine you lived in an igloo, grass hut, or teepee. Do you really think adults having sex had separate bedrooms from the children?"

Ron laughed. "Probably not! The kids would've just thought bumping uglies was a normal part of being a grownup."

Asia adjusted an elastic on her undies. "But some people think porn makes people fuck little kids."

"That's horrible!" I said. "Why would they ever think that?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but some people believe that."

I thought about this for a moment. "Well, people are weird, that way. Some folks also believe deities actually listen raptly to their Thanksgivings prayers."

Ron ogled Asia for a moment as she finished fixing her knickers, then adjusted his own crotch. "There are just three more things we need to bring up. Number one: some men just can't stop using porn, or they just can't stop stimulating themselves while thinking about porn."

"Some people can't stop eating, either. It doesn't mean food is bad. It just means the person has an addictive personality."

"Fair enough," said Asia. "Number two: Society has become desensitized to the pure nature of sexuality."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I haven't the foggiest," said Ron, "unless it means that pure sex is sex in zero G without any sort of distraction. Hey! That sounds like fun! You don't suppose that's what they do up on the shuttles, is it?"

"Number three," interrupted Asia, "is increased crime and decreased property values due to pornography."

"Increased crime?" I asked incredulously. "What, do people shoplift pornos more than any other item? I always thought increased crime was blamed on smack addicts rather than Hustler models. Bizarre. As for decreased property values, well, I will admit a lot of exotic dance clubs have tacky decor. Maybe if more interior decorators joined the pornography business, it would lose much of its social stigma. Do you really think Hugh Hefner's nextdoor neighbours are complaining their homes are losing their value because of their proximity to the Playboy Mansion? I doubt it."

"Wow! You're absolutely right! First you pick out your porn name, and then you sign this contract." He pulled a piece of scented paper out of Asia's black case.

"Okay, so how do I pick out my porn name?"

"It's a piece of cake," purred Asia. "Just pick one of your favourite pet's names, then tack on the name of a street you used to live on."

"Then that makes me Mistress FooFoo Odell. I like it! Show me the contract, please."

Ron passed me the contract with a flourish. "Here you go!"

Eagerly, I scanned over the fine print. I faltered on one particular line. "Wait a minute, it says here I need to get implants."

"Is there a problem with that," asked Asia. "I have implants, and I like them just fine." She swayed forward, and her bosom wobbled just like the real thing.

"No, that's not the problem. It's just that I don't have the money for that sort of thing. Isn't there such a thing as flat-chested porn stars?"

"Not in North America, FooFoo. But that's okay." Ron reached into Asia's butt and hauled out a wad of cash. This will be more than enough to get you nice bigguns."

I signed the contract and gingerly took the money (since Asia keeps her bum nice and clean, the money wasn't as gross as some of the cash handed to me at Sobeys by really scary customers) from Ron and put it in my purse. "Perhaps you could recommend a good plastic surgeon. I don't want wonky hooters."

The next day, I showed up for my last day of work at Sobeys. My co-workers marveled at the size of my newly-expanded chest. Indeed, I no longer fit in my uniform. "I'm quitting," I informed the head cashier. "I've found myself a job with better pay and better hours."