Posts Tagged ‘music’

tear you apart

January 15, 2008  |  journal entries  |  3 Comments

My retaliation mix for Miss DD went out into the mail yesterday, but unfortunately I didn’t realize that she can’t actually get the mail on Thursday, she’ll be occupied by being on a plane to come see me. So here’s praying it comes in the mail tomorrow.

Why did I not send it overnight? Dammit dammit dammit.

I’m keeping a lid on the tracklist until she actually gets it, but I want to share this one particular with you, track #12 from the mix how much my heart can take.

UPDATE: Looks like the embedded video isn’t working; meanwhile, watch the video on YouTube.

Lyrics in the ‘continued’ page. Read More

your love will not be light and gay

January 11, 2008  |  miscellany  |  3 Comments

Thanks for all the lovely comments on those last few posts; I have plenty to say about this crush, this long-distance romance, the desires of courtship, of getting to know someone.

But! Amidst the ridiculous sappy love shit, I have a new erotica story I am particularly excited about, and that’ll be up later today. It’s called The Houseboy’s Rebellion and it is, of course, written for Miss DD. Custom smut is so much fun.

I also want to make a few announcements.

#1:

Welcome my lovely friend Ariel? Ariel!; she’s posting brilliant rhetoric on things like radical love, where she asks: what do you owe the person you fuck? What to do with the friends with whom you have ambiguous boundaries or desires? Among other things:

I believe in lightning bolt love. I really do. Right down to the soles of my feet. I talk about polyamory and nonmonogamy but really if I found someone who lightning bolted my heart to the sky I wonder if these would become theoretical discussions.

… Oh I just love her turns of phrase. More over at Ariel? Ariel!

#2:

You may’ve noticed the facelift on Miss Avarice‘s lovely blog recently, I’ve meant to mention it, specifically the header image, which I designed. And I can indeed confirm that those are Miss A’s shoes – specifically, the shoes she braved New York City subways in when she visited me (ahem, I mean, this fine city) in October.

#3:

While I’m linking, I may as well mention that Miss DD made me a mix CD this week, complete with the cover image of my hands bound together in her leather wrist cuffs. (Yes, I sent her some of the photographs she took of me.)

The mix is really lovely (whole tracklist is posted over at her chronicles), and tells a story from the opening track “I’m Not in Love” (the Tori version, of course) to “Think I’m in Love” in the middle, to “This is Love” by PJ Harvey as the closing song. But? It also has “Come to Daddy,” “Nasty Little Thoughts,” “Smack my Bitch Up,” and “Crazy Bitch,” so clearly it is not all sappy ridiculousness.

Kinda like us. Go figure.

She wrote these things as her game-plan strategy, yesterday:

  1. let myself be excited about you while maintaining some realism
  2. enjoy the moment and not try to control or predict outcomes, but also not put any expectations on this (the “be present and mindful” strategy)
  3. date when i want to but not for distraction
  4. back off the emotional rollcoaster a bit and just focus on accepting this for what it is

And today, I keep coming back to that list, articulate and succinct, attempting to really feel it in my heart, not just know it in my head.

The Muse – my best friend here in New York, another femme spy, if you will, the one who keeps buying me amazingly fantastic ties, the latest being a hot-pink number that is flat at the end instead of pointed (is there a technical word for that style of tie? probably) – The Muse ran our composite charts, and we discovered that we are pretty much astrologically compatible:

… a feeling of “fatedness,” that this relationship is going to play an important role in your lives, even if it is not a long-term relationship. You will be exposed to the most basic and profound aspects of your own and your partner’s inner nature. Both of you will experience psychological changes through this relationship. In a sexual relationship, physical sex assumes an unusual importance. Sex is likely to be seen by both of you as an experience that transcends ordinary reality.

The composite Moon in the twelfth house requires the two of you to do a great deal of work that most couples are unwilling to do. … If you don’t seek out the truth, your relationship will give you the feeling that you have been defeated in life by forces you don’t understand.

In a love relationship, the expression of love will be quite intense, with a powerful quality that will transform both of you in some fundamental way. Your love will not be light and gay but something very serious that involves both of you at all levels of mind, body, and soul.

I wouldn’t necessarily let astrology make or break anything, but I think it’s an interesting tool to give articulacy to the feelings in a relationship, or one’s own sense of self. Strange how it can sometimes feel so spot-on.

She’ll be here next week (six days) for four days. And I’m sending out my own mix CD to her shortly – glad I got hers first, some of the songs actually overlapped.

what I’m grateful for

November 22, 2007  |  miscellany  |  4 Comments

Sugarbutch stands in an interesting place within online communities; I see it as touching on and fusing various subjects – activism, feminism, sex, gender, queer theory and culture, sex toys, fantasy, kink, SM, relationships, occasional buddhist philosophies, poetry, community – and while there are multiple circles for these subjects individually, I feel like I have few neighbors doing the same thing I’m doing. But even so, there are many people within these overlapping communities who have contributed, read, commented, and helped Sugarbutch over the past year and a half, and I am partcularly grateful to them today.Before I give thanks, though, my activist self HAS to mention something about the history of colonization in the Americas, and First Nations rights, and how yucky it is that we still celebrate the “discovery” of the US, the Eurocentricism of our history, the history books were written by the winners, et cetera, et cetera. On Thanksgiving, I break out my Buffy Sainte-Marie CDs (seriously, can you name any Native American recording artists?), The People’s History of the United States, and maybe Scarlet’s Walk.

Buffy Sainte-Marie, My Country Tis of Thy People You’re Dying (click the “more” part for the lyrics):

I just can’t “celebrate” Thanksgiving without some acknowledgement of the suffering upon which this country was built.

Despite the shady history of this holiday, I still very much appreciate the chance to celebrate what I am grateful for. Nothing wrong with saying thanks, gathering together, being appreciative.

So, thank you, neighbors and friends, family and lovers, for your inspiration and presence in my life, for your influence, your feedback, your friendship.

my fabulous friends here in this big bad city … the femme, who doesn’t have an online handle; birdee; and my buddy over at Post No Bills, who is throwing a great Turkey Day gathering today (that I will be heading to, assuming I finish some writing)

Cody and Colleen, for all sorts of chats and discussions about gender, sex, relationships, figuring out what I want, and calling me on my bullshit

Jezbian, my “big sister”
Ice, still in Seattle but our friendship is only getting stronger
Matt, extraordinary poet and friend

Molly Bennett Creative
Heather Corrina and Scarleteen, for the amazing activist work
Audacia Ray and her forward-thinking porn and activism
Rachel Kramer Bussell, her amazing writing work – she is such a pillar in this writing/sex community

Dylan, for reading and commenting here practically from the beginning, and for butch bonding, and for reminding me that the butches are NOT dying out, that there are still young butches

Essin’ Em, for her prolific sex education

the folks at Feministing, because while I want to take issue with a lot of what they’re doing, they are still being quite successful at being a catalyst for young women’s feminism, and that’s fantastic

Viviane, from Viviane’s Sex Carnival, she’s the “blog mommy,” as she is coming to be known, for throwing her amazing Tea Parties and enabling me to meet much of the New York crew of sex bloggers: Jefferson, fellow bourbon lover, who will go down in history as THE New York Playboy; Tess D, from whom I have continuously learned how explorative and fun the world of fantasy can be; Avah, Calico, Madeline; Lolita, whose sexy tricks I would love to learn; Eileen & Maymay, who I am excited to get to know better …

I’m also extremely grateful to the girls who have met me with my sex and gender explorations, in bed, in coffee shops, in dark bars, in comments on this site, in my dreams, in the Sugarbutch Star contest (it’s finishing up, I swear).

Thank you, for being a part of my life; you have effected it, changed it for the better. I’m very, very grateful for this community.

* Amendment, a few links:

Four questions to ask yourself to boost your feelings of gratitude, from the Happiness Project

25 Books I’m grateful for, over on Feministing

thank you ladies. you didn’t have to say that*

August 27, 2007  |  essays  |  6 Comments


Team Gina, Butch/Femme

I like butch girls and I cannot lie
you other femmes can’t deny
when a butch walks in, all the femmes wanna fuss
’cause there’s like one of them and thirty of us …

Brilliant! I don’t usually post media here, but this is oh so relevant to the current topics of conversation.I really wonder what kind of conversation happened on the set here. Where’d they find all these butches? Do they identify as butch? Were they hesitant to be involved in this video because they didn’t identify as butch?

And how about that part at the end, when the butch is “flaggin’ a bottom” – she vehemently denies it: “I’m a top, I swear!” – I like the subversiveness of the lyrics there, the femmes singing “I ain’t trying to be predictable, but you’re gonna have to pin me against this wall” (I would like that), but it is a tiny moment where I wonder about the reinforcement of the butch/top femme/bottom dynamics.

Really though, this shit is fucken brilliant.

* Flight of the Conchords

gender is a sex toy

August 17, 2007  |  dirty stories  |  9 Comments

My favorite part of last night was the way she said please. Please, please, like a whisper, or a prayer. At the bar, she told me was disappointed I hadn’t emailed her back.

“Ah,” I said. I didn’t have a good excuse. But when I discovered she’d be at this party I made note, and made sure to be there.

“I kind of want to go talk to her,” I told my friend, who I’d arrived with.

“Do it, chickenshit,” she said, “just go do it, no big deal … ” and proceeded to say something else supportive, made to boost me up, but I got distracted: she walked up to me, put her hand on my arm, and said, “Sorry to interrupt …” Oh no, no problem. We were only talking about how I should go talk to you, anyway.

I told her I’d Googled her after we met. She was embarrassed. She had Googled me as well, made a reference to the video of my spoken word she’d found.

I told her I’d been up to my knees in gender theory this week, trying to uncover and then articulate the reasons why butch and femme were subversive. I asked if she identified as femme – I would put her in that vague category, red strappy sandals, silver hoop earrings, but I know some people hate being categorized.

“I suppose I look femme,” she said, “but I don’t think I really act femme, and I certainly don’t fuck like a femme.”

We got interrupted, but I wanted to ask her what she meant. Or rather, I didn’t want her to tell me, I wanted to find out. I took it to mean that she’s not a “pillow queen,” which most would say derogatorily when referencing a femme in the bedroom. And that is a moment where butch/femme is operating under the assumption as a reproduction of the heteronormative paradigm, and not necessarily a re-visioning of the compulsory gender hierarchy.

And this also reminds me of another point I haven’t yet discussed during this gender conversation – what I believe gender is and what kind of role it should play in my life. (More on both of these soon. There’s so much to say and explore about gender.)

Another friend of hers said she wasn’t so into gender. “I hate it when it takes girls like three hours to get ready,” she said. “I’d rather spend two and a half hours enjoying your company, and half an hour getting ready.”

“I can get that,” I said, “but I also want to acknowledge how much fucking effort it takes to be femme. It isn’t just roll-outta-bed, tussle-the-hair-with-product like it is for us” – I indicated myself and the friend – “it takes a lot more work. And I gatta say, I love what that work creates. It’s an art form, a creative expression. And, not to sound egotistical, but I also kind of see it as for me, something to get my attention, get me going, and I love that – love that I’m worth that effort.”

“Plus,” I added, “I can enjoy her company while she’s getting ready, can’t I?”

Clearly, this was the foreplay.

“So,” she said later, after we’d been sharing life stories, still drinking pints at the bar, “when are you going to kiss me?”

Then my hand on her cheek. Soft lips, and oh she tasted fantastic.

I felt oh so rude, having pretty much completely ditched my very good friend and a gaggle of other queer girls (some of whom I knew, and others of which seemed fantastic! I wanted to meet them, hand out, socialize! So easily distracted by the hot girl … ), but I didn’t let that stop me, and we took a cab to my house.

We were both tipsy. She looked at my bookcases, went through my iTunes (Animaniacs, Gretchen Wilson, Dolly Parton, Garrison Starr … and I discovered that my sexmix is seriously outdated. Seriously. I should’ve just put on Morphine. It was laughable, honestly). And then we were naked, in my bed.

“Lube?” she asked.

“I’ll get it … ”

“No, let me. Where?”

“In the toolbox, under the bed.”

“The toolbox. Of course.”

I leaned over to pull it out. She fisted me easily, though it was too much to sustain for very long. But oh it is sometimes so lovely to be filled, stretched.

Later, fingers not enough, I said: “Can I get my cock out yet?”

“Oh god yes. Please.” That please again. The way she whispers it. Makes my stomach contract as if punched.

I like the way she moved. The way her body curved, the way she wasn’t shy but would put herself where she wanted to be. I would probably call her more of a top, though we didn’t discuss those identities. And it made me realize – or perhaps remember – that I don’t really surrender well. My impulse is to take, to overpower, to do the throw-down. I have a harder time as the one being thrown down. Not sure why. There are certainly times that I can let go, give in, get fucked – but honestly, if I hadn’t made her come yet, I feel distracted by the want of that, the desire to do so.

Given the option of me getting off and not her, or her getting off and not me, I would be much more satisfied with the latter. I get such satisfaction out of making girls come.

It was hard to get her off. “We’ve learned a valuable lesson about alcohol,” she said. “Four beers is too many?” I asked. “Four beers was what it took for me to ask you to take me home,” she answered, “so it was necessary.”

[Another tangent: I actually find that I rarely get off - or get her off - the first time I'm with a girl. There's a learning curve to discovering her body and what she likes. Which is yet another reason why I'm not so good at one-night stands, I like to build that understanding, that communication, between our bodies.]

Pillow talk consisted of our favorite books. The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russel, Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, and Crush by Richard Siken, I said. I talked about sci-fi and fantasy, her genres. What I liked and disliked. She said she had one in particular I needed to read. This means I just may see her again.

I walked her to the subway at two am to wait with her because I knew it’d be a while before the train came. As we walked, I switched sides with her so her heels wouldn’t get caught in the sidewalk subway grate, and it was a beautiful little gender dance, gender connection, my brief protection of the ways she presents her sexuality and desire through her gender.

I really love those moments. Gender is such a sex toy.

music to fuck to

August 4, 2007  |  miscellany  |  9 Comments

If you like sexy music, music to get the sheets dirty to, music that turns you on, you’ve gatta check out Sarah Fimm‘s track Sexual Animals. It came onto a random shuffle mix this morning & I … got all flustered (let’s leave it at that).Want some more sexy songs? Here’s my sexmix from a few years ago, though I would probably update it to include a few more things now. It’s a good start though. What would you include?

1 Melissa Ferrick – Drive (remix)
2 Madonna – Erotica
3 Joan Osborne – If I Was Your Man
4 Sophie B. Hawkins – Your tongue like the sun in my mouth
5 KD Lang – Constant Craving
6 Massive Attack & Madonna – I Want You
7 Janet Jackson – Would You Mind
8 Tori Amos – Raspberry Swirl
9 JJ Cale – Closer To You
10 Lamb – Lusty
11 Tattle Tale – Glass Vase Cello Case
12 luscious jackson – mood swing
13 Supreme Beings of Leisure – Last Girl on Earth
14 Nightclub – french kiss (DJ Scot project mix)
15 mazzy star – fade into you
16 Melissa Ferrick – Drive

four questions

November 1, 2006  |  miscellany  |  2 Comments
  1. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone else?
  2. What’s the most romantic thing someone else ever did for you?
  3. What’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever done for someone else?
  4. What’s the sexiest thing someone else ever did for you?

Bonus: I’m updating my sexmix cd/playlist. What are the sexiest songs to which to seduce, make out, and have sex?

Protected: things will be different later

September 11, 2006  |  journal entries  |  Enter your password to view comments.

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