Archive for April, 2008

Protected: such a beautiful submissive impulse

April 22, 2008  |  journal entries  |  Enter your password to view comments.

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on piercing: earlobe, clit, cock

April 22, 2008  |  essays  |  8 Comments

I put an earring in my left ear over the weekend, a simple stainless steel hoop that goes through two of the four holes I have had in that ear since I was 14 – an orbital. I used to want a transverse lobe piercing, because it is unusual and because of the potential to make a sphere out of two rings, I used to find that image beautiful. But I’m liking the orbital. More subtle than anything hanging down below my earlobe.

I haven’t had earrings in my ears for years, since before that red tie photograph. I occasionally stick a post through the holes just out of curiosity, to see if they’re still open, and they always are. I usually don’t leave an earring in though, and now, two days later, I’ve got that dull ache of flesh being forced out of its natural state of being, but instead forced open, forced apart. Difficult to sleep on my left side (as I often do) or cradle a phone on my left shoulder (which I also often do).

I like the awareness that a new piercing brings to a body part. How conscious I am of the way my earlobe feels when I’m doing anything, getting dressed, slinging my bag over my shoulder, listening to headphones.

Last night I dreamed of kissing, shoulder and clavicle and neck and jawline, eventually slipping her earlobe between my lips, feeling my tongue meet it, hot and smooth.

Having this ring in my ear is making me crave another new piercing. I have eleven, all together, though only three – four, now – have jewelry in them. I remember saying at some point that I no longer wanted adornment piercings, only functional piercings.

I’ve wanted a clit piercing for years. Always thought I’d get a vertical hood piercing, and still might – lately, considering the primary way I get off these days is strapped on, clit-against-harness, a piercing might be great for that kind of thing. (Might also make strap-on sex incredibly painful for a while, so that’s a hesitation.) I’ve also liked the idea of a triangle … that is more and more appealing. Not sure I have the anatomy for it exactly, and I hear there are hard to do, and must be done by someone particularly skilled. The story is that Elaine Angel (Buck Angel’s partner, I believe) is a master at triangles, and no longer practices in the US but does recommend a few of her apprentices. Perhaps I’ll make a trip to Philadelphia this summer.

What I’d really like, right now, actually, is to get my cock pierced.

I’ve been thinking about that for a while, but haven’t found someone to do it yet. No, that’s not true – I haven’t really done the research, and I haven’t asked around. I must know a few kinky folks who have piercing kits, and I think I’d trust them to do one of my cocks – what I’d really love to do is pierce my favorite Silky packing cock, but the flesh of it is actually quite thin and splits easily, I fear once it gets punctured it would just rip open and the cock would be ruined. It’s not silicone, but I’m not sure about it either. Perhaps the same thing would happen?

Possibly, then, I should pierce one of my non-playing packing cocks, which would mean that it is much more for adornment than function. That’d be alright, to start with anyway, until I figured out how to pierce one with which I could actually play.

eye candy: butchlalis

April 21, 2008  |  miscellany  |  13 Comments

eye candy from laura

This addition to the butch eye candy comes from Laura: “This is Mari
from the performance troupe Butchlalis de Panochtitlan (based in Los Angeles).”

Sugarbutch needs more butch eye candy! If you’ve got photos of yourself, your lover, your best friend, your sister, your aunt, your co-worker, an acquaintance … send ‘em my way! aspiringstud [at] gmail.com

the sadistic impulse

April 21, 2008  |  essays  |  11 Comments

me: I want to smack your ass
her: that’s exciting to me. how do you feel when you’re doing that?
me: strong, powerful. hard and wanting.
me: but also? completely inadeuqate and in awe of such beauty.
her: that’s incredibly sweet …
me: more in awe than inadequate; in reverence.

That moment of inadequacy is so hard to describe (especially via text message, what was I thinking?) – it’s less about the hierarchy between us or my own self-worth (that ‘inadequate’ implies) as it is about awe and reverance, like looking at the Milky Way and witnessing its spinning, a deep wonder at the beauty before me – and then a deep desire to bite into a destroy something so precious.

What is that impulse? My mom, who works with elementary school kids, speaks of it often – spending a few hours on a beach building a sand castle or a rock pattern only to have some of the fourth grade boys come trampling through and destroy it all. Sure, maybe once in a while there is a girl who does this – and sure, there are boys who never would (do forgive my oversimplification of gender roles here) – but by and large, the kids who do this are boys, and boys alone.

It reminds me of what I’ve read in feminist scholarship about pre-Christian matriarchal and goddess-centered cultures of which we have so little record. Some theories discuss how men were (and still are) so much in awe of a woman’s strength and power in sexuality that their impulse was to put it under lock and key, to control, to regulate. What they could not have themselves, they longed to own, occupy, colonize.

And in moments like my date on Saturday night, with girls like her, I deeply understand this feeling.

What is that? Where does that come from? It is similar to the impulse of destruction I’ve hinted at, the witness of something so perfect, so flawless and lovely, so fresh and baby-green and precious, trembling with new life like the leaves on the trees right now, that after a moment of quiet awe and appreciation I want to caress it, touch my hand gently to it, then wrap my fingers closed around it and squeeze the life out until I hear the last gasp of breath. I want to rip it from it’s branch like meat from a bone.

I don’t like this impulse much, I’m suspicious of it. I’m a pacifist, a feminist – but I’m also a sadist. I get off on the intentional release of pain. That also makes me a healer.

I have control of this impulse, to a point. I don’t actually crush baby leaves, or destroy flowers or people. But there have been times, that I can count on one hand, where I’ve been so deeply in sync with a lover, where they’ve sensed this impulse in me and provoked it, where I’ve nearly tipped over the edge and given in. I don’t really know what would happen inside of it, I’ve never trusted someone else – or myself – enough to find out.

Maybe this is one of the ways that I seek balance on a fairly extreme scale.

This too is why I like classic femininity in my lovers, in femmes: I want to see that supposed innocence. It riles me up, incites in me this impulse to take, to conquer, to overthrow, to destroy.

Consensually, and with such reverance and care, of course, of course.

they call it ‘stout’ for a reason

April 18, 2008  |  reviews  |  7 Comments

Finally finished my review for Eden Fantasys of the Feeldoe stout double dildo … perhaps you would guess, but I’m actually not quite as impressed as I expected. It’s missing a) control b) precision c) did I mention control?

There’s just nothing sexy about wondering where my cock is going, how it’s behaving, what angle it’s at … even on the cocks that I know really well, I still often keep my hand on it (or under it, or next to it) in order to continue to feel precisely how and where it’s moving. For the same reasons, I keep my harnesses quite tight: much more control that way.

Still, on occasion, I could see the Feeldoe having a very welcome place in my tool box. Pulling it out on a lazy morning in bed, slipping it in and rolling her on top of me … yeah, I’ll have one of those, thanks.

Well, until that happens, I’ve got a few new products to review to keep me busy. Did I mention Eden just got some packing cocks? Aw yeah.

‘I sing the body electric’

April 17, 2008  |  miscellany  |  No Comments

I have yet to write up my experiences at the most recent Body Electric Celebrating the Body Erotic workshop that happened just at the end of March (I’m so behind on my writing), but I cannot recommend these highly enough. If you are in the Bay Area, or Seattle, or have access to those two places, it really is worth it.  Ask me if you have more questions, I’ll tell you all about it.


JUST ADDED – June 20-22
Seattle Celebrating the Body Erotic for Women
We heard your requests for more opportunities to experience this amazing workshop. Please come join a circle of women in a safe, serious and playful space to explore and celebrate empowered sexuality and spiritually integrated eros. Through breath, movement, communication, touch and massage:
* Feel more alive, curious and safe in your body
* Deeply tune in to your body, mind, heart and spirit
* Expand awareness, sensation and pleasure
* Receive and give without losing yourself
* Release fear, shame and negative patterns
* Communicate your desires and boundaries more clearly
* Accept yourself just as you are
* Enjoy sex more and have more fun
* Discover the healing potential of sexual/spiritual energy
This workshop starts Friday night and ends Sunday and is for women of all ages and sexual orientations who are open to learn about their own power to illuminate and enjoy sensuality and sexuality. Please share this email with any friends who might be interested.* June 20-22 – Seattle – Led by Lizz Randall – contact Robyn Lynn at 206-579-2603 or [email protected]
Tuition: $395
Take advantage of one of two offers (cannot be combined):
1. Pay in full by May 30 and receive $30 off
2. Register with a friend and you both receive a 10% reduction

Power, Surrender & Intimacy
After an absence of several years this powerful exploration into the nature of trust, exquisite attention and heightened sensations returns. Join with like-minded women who are ready to go beyond the life ordinary. In a grounded, respectful container discover and clarify edges of liberation, empowerment and embodiment. Learn to recognize aspects of yourself that are continually engaged in power dynamics, and hence become more choiceful about how you can share power with compassion and skill. Led by Alex Jade.
  * June 20-22 – New York City – Contact Debi Soler at 212-726-0679 or
  [email protected]
  Tuition: $395
  Prerequisite: Celebrating the Body Erotic
  Take advantage of one of two offers (cannot be combined):
  1. Pay in full by May 30 and receive $30 off
  2. Register with a friend and you both receive a 10% reduction

Oakland Celebrating the Body Erotic
 In addition to the upcoming Seattle CBE, you also have the option of attending a CBE in Oakland if that fits your schedule better.
* May 16-18 – Oakland – Led by Lizz Randall – Contact Ursula Goulet at 510-333-4721 or [email protected]
* October 3-5 – Oakland – Led by Elfi Dillon-Shaw – Contact Ursula Goulet at 510-333-4721 or [email protected]
Tuition: $395
Take advantage of one of two offers (cannot be combined):
1. Pay in full by April 25 (spring) or September 12 (fall) and receive $30 off
2. Register with a friend and you both receive a 10% reduction

The Body Electric School Website 
Contact Information: 510-653-1594, [email protected]

the red tie night, six years ago

April 17, 2008  |  essays  |  9 Comments

I ran across some photos this week of me and jesse james and georgia from almost exactly six years ago – I remember that night vividly. Aside from georgia’s very grabable curly hair, spaghetti strap tank top, and long string of gin+tonics (that I kept drinking for her), my gang of friends – including jesse james, and Maverick – decided we’d go out “in drag” that night, which meant slacks, button-downs, binding our breasts, ties.

(Interesting how men’s business wear is drag for masculinity, and women’s lingerie is drag for femininity – clearly some cultural values coming through there eh?)

I took many photos that night as we got ready to go – even the preparations were significant, the rituals of masculinity, hair slicked back, knotting and re-knotting my tie. It was one of the first times I wore a tie and packed out in public; in the photos I’m wearing a black shirt, black slacks, and red tie. I’m not even sure where I got that tie, now that I think about it. It just seems like I’ve always owned it. A red tie, solid – my favorite.

Interesting how, then, it was drag, it was rare, it was deliberate performance – I was so self-conscious going out like that, I felt stared at, noticed, in a new way. And I was, particularly by georgia’s attention, the clear lust in her eyes and fingertips as I lit her cigarettes and held her drinks and attempted to kiss her (with little luck – she had a girlfriend back then).

Looking at these photographs from six years ago, though, I catch a glimpse of the gender I grew into – I don’t always recognize myself in photos from that time, but in those … yeah, I think, that’s me.

It took such a long time for me to come to comfortably sit in this butch identity, for me to (if we’ll continue the metaphor) navigate the gender galaxy, and find a comfortable orbit around an identity label. Some of us don’t ever settle into that – some of us are radical little spaceships that explore treasures from all sorts of different worlds and words that we orbit. I guess the trick is, in my opinion, to simply find the routes that are the best to navigate (not necessarily the easiest, but the most satisfying), the orbits where there is plenty of oxygen, the alliances that create treaties and share resources and have excellent adventures.

We basically have to make our own gender galaxy maps. And while some gender mapmaking tools – queer theory, gender theory, postmodern theory, queer literature, smut and the language of lesbian desires – while some tools help immensely, I still couldn’t quite escape the praxis, the application of the theory, because of the ways that the social constraints and social policing affected my own process deeply.

The same friends who went out with me on that infamous red tie night – jesse james & Maverick – were very influential, and I had a lot of criticism about how they performed their own flavors of female masculinity. I don’t remember a lot of discussions about the label/term/identity of ‘butch’ specifically, but we definitely knocked the term around sometimes – mostly I remember saying, “I don’t know. If I’m butch, then am I all these other things that come along with compulsory masculinity – like misogyny?”

I remember one particular time when jesse james and Maverick were joking about attending a community class for and about femmes – identity, privilege, passing, visibility. And they kept speaking of it like it was a place to go pick up chicks – I eventually snapped at them: That’s a special place for femmes! That’s not a convenient pick-up ground! You’re like the boys who heh-heh-heh and sign up for women studies.

[I know it says "women studies" and not "women's studies," and that's deliberate. The apostrophe implies that these studies belong to women, that it is women who study them. When it's women studies, singular, then the implication is that it is the study of women. This is how my undergraduate Women Studies department operated & how I still describe that particular academic discipline.]

I’m not sure if they got it; maybe they did. I quickly gained the reputation as the hard-core feminist of the gang, and jesse james especially loved to push my buttons about it, to get a rise out of me, to make me laugh, to frustrate me with a scenario. They used to tease me endlessly.

But looking back at it, it was an integral part of my gender identity development. Because feminism, and deep respect for women, and deep rejection of the “oppressive male gaze” and gendered hierarchy, came first, I was terrified of objectifying women, of disrespecting women – and, most importantly, of adopting misogyny as part of a masculine identity. And I kept wondering, over and over: If I reject misogyny as part of masculinity, part of “butch,” then what’s left? Masculinity is, in so many ways, simply defined as not-woman; what else does that identity hold? And what does it mean for me to adopt it, to become it, to be it?

My solution, at least temporarily, was that I could look butch – hence the ties and button-downs and packing – but that I would maintain my hard-core feminist values, my inner emotional landscapes, my interests and personality traits. I didn’t know how far I could take this new idea of a masculine gender. For years, my friends & peers would say, “well, yeah, but you’re not really butch.” I didn’t like that, but I didn’t know how to only pick and choose the traits that I wanted, intentionally, within masculinity. I didn’t know it would mean to have be butch in other ways - for example, emotionally.

Even still, this puzzles me. There is something inward about gender, a sort of “gender energy,” internal traits that run through displays of female masculinity – but I still struggle with articulating that. It starts to run into the grey areas of where gender overlaps with personality, and I start feeling cautionary, not wanting gender to dictate things like hobbies and interests.

I’d like to figure this out, though. It’s on my list of Things to Explore Further.

Incidentally, jesse james – formerly known as The Closet Musician here on Sugarbutch – was known as Ice (from Iceman) back then; Maverick and Ice even had flight suits for Halloween one year. Then we had Mitchell, who joined our gang on occasion, and there were the femmes, Pepper (Maverick’s girlfriend and, later, wife) and Lola (who I was madly head-over-heels about). Who knew all those nicknames were such fabulous practice for anonymous writing?

I never had a nickname that stuck, I always wanted one. Perhaps that’s part of why I created Sinclair all these years later.


Donate to RAINN & let ‘em know I sent you – add “GBBMC2008: Mr. Sinclair Sexsmith” in the information box. (Why?)

five tips for getting laid

April 15, 2008  |  essays  |  17 Comments

These tips come from my hanging-out-with-friends that turned into a date on Saturday night … and these are the Notes to Myself from that evening. Thought they might be useful to you, too.

  1. Make your bed, keep your sheets clean. Invest in linens. Not necessarily super-high thread count (though that’s lovely), but at least replace those sheets you’ve had since college, replace anything more than a few years old, invest in some sensuous throws that feel good against the skin. [To have a slightly feng shui moment: also, don't keep your bed lengthwise against a wall (unless you absolutely have to - some Manhattan 'bedrooms' are really closets, I get it) - the bed should be set up with room for two, two nightstands, two reading lights, especially if you're looking for that serious LTR. It's a symbol that says you know how to make space for someone in your life.] Your bed is where the magic happens, baby. Gotta make it inviting.
  2. Pack. For me, it’s not only being ready, it’s the cock confidence for the evening – even if you go out on the town or out with friends without any expectation at all of getting laid, your cock may give you that extra push of confidence that will perhaps get you that phone number, make you ask her to dance, get a little more than a chaste “goodnight” at the end of the evening. If you didn’t pack, don’t be afraid to bust out the strapon early in the evening (see #3).
  3. Watch the signals, and trust your instincts. If you think she wants you to kiss her, she probably does. If you think she’s wondering when you’re going to take her home, she probably is. Just do it. Don’t dwell on it. Be bold. 
  4. When you’ve decided to take her home, don’t hesitate to splurge on a cab.
  5. Morning after: It is best to be able to offer something besides water. Keep coffee on hand, get a French Press (even if you don’t drink it).

last of the birthday photos

April 13, 2008  |  miscellany  |  1 Comment

birthday - lady brett 2
As promised, the second photo from Lady Brett Ashley -
this time, in drag. Gorgeous!

 

birthday - melissa
Special shot from Melissa, who writes: “My picture does not show any skin,
but that’s the beauty of it. Although it does contain 2 of my favorite things:
my ‘baby’ and the shoes that stop them dead in their tracks …
4 inches and a size 5!”

 

birthday - black&blue
Mmm … beautiful stockings & heels from black&blue

Protected: necktie, white shirt, hands

April 11, 2008  |  miscellany  |  Enter your password to view comments.

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