Meet me at the Crossroads

“How many men of mine could have been killers?
How much further did i lead them down the sticky honeyed path of death?
Those moments….those beautiful moments…you sitting against a wall in an old house
Victorian, and crumbling..the wallpaper cracking…
Youth & pale flesh acting like glue, new cobwebs creating new boxes of memory
I’m comparing my level of 1-10″ as when I was on the floor in that bathroom….you could have stabbed me. Quite literally.”

-Excerpt, My Journals

a311a19b98932401fd882f45bc1a9c2bHis name was M.
Let’s call it Markus.
Markus Toowell.

I recently had a bit of a mental health hiccup & landed myself quite suddenly in the lap of professional care… Who would have thought being tired of the basic Act of Living could be a source of confusion or derision among the common…

There was a day in there that I had been changed from ‘committed’ to ‘voluntary’ basically, and my fabulous dissociative coping mechanisms weren’t having it. I railed, screamed ugly and frantic against my tin-foil bathroom mirror & dull-gun-steel sink.
I told them that given my intelligence, putting ‘leaving’ on the table as an option was basically laughing at my illness…taunting me & my inability to cope with Society and Humans as they are.

They took the option off the table, and told me I would be transferred to long-stay.
Afterwards, they gave me print-outs of DBT therapy workbooks.
I took them to the kitchen area, deliberately sitting in the view of a young fellow I had eyed before.
At some point, I had gone to the fridge to get some milk. I made a deliberate circle in front of the energy I felt sitting at the table to the right of the fridge.
I knew it then.
As I pretended to ignore everything around me to the pursuit of my room, I felt and saw out of the corner of my eye… he looked up as if in a daze… stared at me the whole way.
I knew it then.

As I sat at the kitchen tables, leaving one full table between us, I knew he would. I knew we would have a moment. It took a while. Got half a page written before the sun began to set.
“You’re from Alberta?”
“Oh, I was just wondering about these birds, they’re crazy…”
Outside the wide window that took up the entire wall, you had a full view of the airplanes coming into the city from the Othersides of the planet…. a parking garage and a shopping district to the left were about all… but he was correct… Seagulls…. hundreds, thousands of birds flocking back and forth. We tried to get scientific… watched the frequency of flight in comparison to airplanes, but we couldn’t come up with anything but wistful theory.
We talked for a long time.
Connected as much as two broken people can inside of an institution.
Told to go to bed by the nurses at one am.

He got out before me, and I knew he had gone back to the Life.
Sadly, he’s a little naive creature, hasn’t been on the Streets or bluntly Homeless before, so this is all new to him, and this city is rough.
He was sweet though.
Kept his word about calling me every day, and visiting me every day as well.
He was my only visitor.
When I got out, I got back to life as I know it…

I felt bad I wasn’t reaching out, but didn’t want to be pushy.
I got a hotel for a few days.
I wanted to Bukowski it out before a craft fair I was a part of.
I invited him to stay for a few nights to get his head and affairs in order, because I’ve been there so many times I’ve lost count.

He stayed until we got back from the craft fair, waited till I went out for smokes, and robbed me of everything I made at the fair. To be fair, it was only $35…but…

My Mister Markus Toowell.
So sweet & broken, my poor dying darling.
I never hold it against these men.
I suppose I should…
I can’t help but take mutual responsibility for the situation.
Unfortunately, I set them up to fail.
I’m not the best influence myself… I won’t change you, I will just be beside you.
It kills them every time.

I’ll remember his scratchy, wobbled head… his baby teeth… his sweet softness.
He was thirty two, but he seemed so young & innocent, the thing.
If it was a schtick, it was a fucking great one…
But I’m more apt to blame it on the Cycles.
Inanna is dying & beginning her descent.


I Attracted their Eyes & Haunted their Thoughts


I have a knack for reading people.
This makes me extremely adept at socialization & conversations beyond the normal scope of ‘So what do you do?’, and when I say I have a knack, I truly mean it is an uncanny gift that even I have a hard time explaining.

Would you like to try a party trick of mine?
Much more difficult via blog posts, but what can you do.

So I first ask someone what their sign is.
Then their favorite number.
Then I ask them to pick the first three colors that first pop into their heads. Next, I ask what their three most favorite colors are. From that information, I compile a fairly accurate ((so far)) reading of someone’s personality, life challenges & situations, and offer some advice for the future. It always freaks folks out, and I love doing it.

The fact that I can read people with such accuracy, and can reach people in such emotional and mentally deep ways really makes me feel like a Priestess, or some kind of Muse-of-Old. I adore helping people, doing energy-work, ‘sin-eating’, being a shoulder or an ear… It’s a very intimate service for humans to be able to access. I love being able to provide that in my sex and sensual work.

Robert Liberace5fd03041187ddeacd2ea158bbe045814One thing I have noted is that men, while shameless about revealing their bodies to a partner or stranger, are usually ashamed or worried about the condition of their bodies when in a relationship setting. I find both the male and female form exquisite.
I do not have a personal preference, but I find fuller figures attractive for both sexes, and I also like more average or thin body types.

Most of my men have had big, solid stomachs and wide barrel chests, tree-trunk legs and wild jungle nests of body hair. I have also had soft, sleek, rippling foreign men, hairless and tanned like old leather. Sweet, tall, thin, handsome men with sex oozing out of their pores & wisps of hair, or great, wiry curls of mohawk. I lust for men’s bodies, the scent of their skin, the warmth of their fingers tracing shivers into my soul. I love men that touch me without hands, men that caress my thoughts when I least expect them to, like gentlemen courting my imagination, keeping me company & soothing my wild, raging loneliness…99d0229703ee6975ade37c8fb1757a9d

I have always felt lonely.
Empty, wild, and alone, always following a distant scent on the wind or lilt in the sound of the earth.

Wild men have always felt grounding to me. There was a man I met on an island once. A biker man, Mr. Chops… A friend of mine had revoked my roomie status and I had to leave the island and get back to the mainland with no funds. I put a note on a profile of a dating website saying I had to get a ride back to the mainland, and Mr. Chops was the man who answered.

We drove out into the wilderness, he took me to see a beautiful river, we swam, talked, had fun, had a sexy little fuck against his car, and he dropped me off at a bus station with enough money to get home. We still talk to this day, and it was such a sweet encounter, completely random and spontaneous, but consensual, and very fun.
It’s quite a fond memory of mine.

How Different Every Hour is from The One Before

jon fosterWhen I was two years old, my parents were divorced. My father was a delusional man who thought the cysts on his head were a crown from Jesus, that he could decode the bible, that he knew where the holy grail was… and of course, that witchcraft and homosexuality were Of the Devil.

Being that my mother was a lesbian, that didn’t work out so well. She was told if she fought for custody, he would tell her family, ((11 brothers and sisters, and a very old-fashioned mother, )) that she was gay.

She didn’t fight, he won, he told everyone anyway, she was largely disowned.

He was a terrible father.
In retrospect, I can see the abuse, but at the time of course, things were as normal as they could be seen to be as a child, but the memories I do have, laced through with gaping voids of blackness, are tinged with eeriness, a drab, strange sort of feeling… the feeling of nightmares in which you can’t exactly tell what’s wrong, but there is a lurking dread that skirts the corners.

Maybe it is because I consider this feeling to be a normalized experience, that I have constantly run into more ‘socially unsavory’ characters in my life.

Men I meet are rarely attending Yale, though I have met quite a few business owners.
Unfortunately, each one, from the genius, to the resort owner, to the ex-drug-dealer have all had their fair share of unresolved emotional and mental baggage that has superseded all hope of rational, mature relations between two parties. What’s worse is I tend to stick around because I know I am one Tough Lady… Wallace stock and all that, you know… So I choose to stick out at first, because everyone deserves a chance, and of course I will admit it…the ‘superhero syndrome’, you know the one.

I’m ‘Queen Rehabilitate A Motherfucker’.
Excuse me while I gather my bottom, I seem to have laughed it quite off.

So because I am so transient, I come into contact with lots of different guys.
There was a efa29c0cfe80254a020387f3c76f4924fellow I met once, I will dub him Mr. F.I. ((fucking insane)) and this fella was a piece of work. Once I revealed to him that I had mental health issues, slowly he began to develop them as well. I had let him pet-sit my degus and things while transitioning to a new place… but found out my things had been put outside in the ghetto, and he had killed my pets and kept their skulls.

I’m not sure if I can believe someone would be that cruel, however he was pretty out there, had body modifications and such but it seemed more to show off than for a reason.

He wanted to pursue a BDSM style relationship with me and I was 100% not attracted to him in the least. I considered him a dumb giant, but I suppose watch out for dumb giants when they get angry.

On a fun side note, when I was younger, I dated a fellow who wasn’t legally short enough to be considered a true midget, but his 4’10 to my 5’11 was a pretty unusual sight to folks around town. He ended up having a temper tantrum and throwing a vhs camera recorder at my head, so I threw a psychology book at him. How awfully ironic.

The next unfortunate incident was after hitch hiking across the country.
I was rooming with a technically-e494840d5cfc5901b0593895759c33ea0x boyfriend of mine, Mr. Snowshoes, who was increasingly heated about wanting to be with me again.
We got into some silly tiff and all of a sudden I’m being choked and boffed about the face.
I ended the whole affair by crawling my little bottom right to the neighbors porch, bloody nose, lip, and full of tears and shock, poor things must have been absolutely terrified when they saw me.

I went from that one straight into the arms of Mr. Scootercat a few months later, who eventually ended up clocking a chunk of tooth out of my head, unfortunately still left unresolved today.
Ironically the body feature he claimed to love the most about me!
These men always at least leave me with something to laugh at, if nothing else.

I’ve noticed in every case of violence or anger or hateful behavior towards me, there is a propensity to try to make me feel as guilty & demoralized as a woman as possible.

I suppose that is one of the perks to dating foolish men… their sharp words are also quite foolish and don’t really cut well.
However, why a man would want to try to demoralize a woman at all is strange to me. Is it an foolish primitive instinct to discourage females from mating?
Is it a primitive fear of females mistreating men if they were the ruling social and political majority?

((Maybe if our pussies can never be satiated, our thirst for power will never cease, Ha!!))

The same goes for the whole breast feeding thing… I believe the people who object to it are either prudes to the Nth degree, or are jealous and secretly totally want to be suckin’ on that titty… and if they can’t, ain’t no one can.

One Man’s Pornography is another Man’s Theology


It has been my experience that people, and men in particular, base your worth as a person on your sexual appetite or lack thereof. One must possess the exact correct amount of Madonna/Whore, and any deviation is considered frightening, flawed, demeaning, uncouth.

The Beast That Is Media sucks from the mutilated, photoshopped, scripted, tanned, implanted, stretched, filled, squeezed orange-tree-tits of The Feminine…it sells us ripe, fresh, juicy, plump, wet, hot, steaming piles of meat… (( human, yes but also otherwise, of course… always maximize profit.)) Never the real thing, even the ‘authentic’ & ‘organic’ labels mean little, but still… humans are like magpies.

So it’s always been interesting to me, especially with the insurmountable amount of pornography found everywhere from scratched out doodles in kids’ journals to the internet to magazines, classical art, movies, I could go on… that people still are in an uproar to hear that females are allowed to be, enjoy being, and shouldn’t be shamed or harassed because of, independently owning and operating your body as you see fit, in regards to sexwork.

I think there is also a great misconception on the term ‘sexworker’ in general.
There are many different types of Ladies with many different types of boundaries, rules, pricing, services offered… to hear a woman say ‘I am a sexworker;’ doesn’t mean she is a street worker, or even offers traditional penetrative sex. It could mean she offers a girlfriend type of experience via the internet only, which is close to what I do.

We all have become aware that there are many different kinds of bodies, different kinds of fetishes, different styles of sexual position, pussies and tits and cocks all look different…so it stands to reason there are many different shades of sex worker.
To consider them all abused, drug addicted, college age, liars, manipulators, women with low self-esteem, women using an easy way out for fast cash, gosh. Why can’t we actually enjoy the conversations we have and the fun we bring to people’s lives? I also try to be informative and don’t mind my intelligence showing. It’s a way people can genuinely get to know me as me, and it’s been one of the best experiences for rebuilding my mental health as a young woman growing up.

ca50ba4bbe6e36c3912ac958fde73e02When I am in a relationship, I usually cease all webcam work. There have been two relationships I came clean and brought it up in safe settings. The first guy, who I will totally talk about at other times and I forget if I gave him a name yet but, Mr. Blue, was at first confused and apprehensive about it, but found himself quite turned on and ended up helping me out a few times, pardon the French.

The last, Mr. Advertising, found out, and didn’t at all mind in fact, telling me he of course, ‘knew some strippers and escorts’. Of course you do, darling. He told me as long as I didn’t throw it around in his face, and didn’t do it when there was any chance of him being around. I considered that absolutely fair and level-headed, and so when I told him I had done a few hours of camera work for some extra funds, I was aghast when he began a rather extremely dedicated campaign against me…posting my camera link on his public social page, spamming my email, phone, social media with awful things, meant to be degrading to my self-worth, and to be honest, since it began Christmas day and continued until well past my January birthday, I did allow myself to drown in morose, maudlin, terrible depression.

Isn’t that terrible, though?
We had a conversation one night about porn…previous and totally unrelated to the arguing. I was curious about his porn habits because instead of fucking me he would go out into the living room and relieve himself with the aid of other things instead. Long story short, he showed me his porn and we spent quite a few hours ‘immersed in discovery’, let’s say. It was one of the best sexual experiences between us. b19d9451fcd05aab9ad6a56d6766082a

Men that consume pornographic or erotic material that then deride the feminine or individual female have always both fascinated & disgusted me in equal measure.

Women are powerful creatures. You cannot have your cookies, eat them greedily, then kill the baker. It’s quite simply rude.

Females that choose to exert, expose, utilize their sexuality, their body, their sensual mind instead of the analytical…are seen as broken.

I reassure you that is most certainly not the case.

I’m tired of being seen as broken for choosing to enjoy that men love me….Choosing to allow them to talk to me, to fall in love with me, to please me, to give me gifts to delight & surprise me…I enjoy my men.

I enjoy the attention. I enjoy feeling feminine. I enjoy feeling connected to goddesses & priestesses in far-off, smoky, heat-fueled lands that men made devoted quests to, just to hear them speak. I like the energy I can raise from a single look, an angle of the face, a sliding touch of a finger on a shoulder. It’s a beautiful, glorious, pretty thing, a force to be adored, not scorned or spit upon.

Women are beautiful creatures. Men are allowed to be able to look at beautiful creatures, if those creatures allow them to play. Those beautiful creatures are allowed to want to play, and they can choose their game & its rules every time…rules subject to change without notice of course. 😉


There is no Love sincerer than the Love of Food

Sex & Food.
So often paired together, and quite appropriately.c5e91fbca91d48a3902f4e3b9794b152

To consume.
To consummate, devour, lick, suck, slurp, nibble, bite.
To eat.
To taste.

Aroma, flavor, texture… I wonder if some ‘sex addicts’ are merely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice in experiences…

There are foodists, may there be humanists?

Men & Women devoted to mapping the ingredients of bodies…do our flavors change from place to place?

I know the flavor of men is different for each… some men have been cool water, sating my thirst…some have been black licorice and ginamos… but each has been a meal I have feasted upon and drank deeply of. I relish putting my mouth to skin, sucking a vacuum of nerve and tingle, licking a wash of flush and heat…I often tell my men they are delicious. They are.


Many of my fantasies involve heady debates in velvet-and-taffeta-draped rooms…places with smoky scotch, finger food & heavy tomes lined floor to ceiling.

Places I can be mentally bested by a masculine beast, a drooling Alpha fully aware of the meal he makes of me. I want to be eaten, devoured, consumed, tasted, delighted in.

I tend my gardens very well.
I would absolutely adore a man who could properly pick my peaches, a man who knew just what brand of sugar and bourbon to use to sweeten me up, a man with a hot enough oven to roast me in….Oh, to be food!


I Kissed a Mystery, It Tasted Like a Woman

Mystery is always the key in any budding relationship.82ad15cb9fc84269d06abfa792e34d53

Whenever the mystery is lost, passion seems to wane. Lust, desire, thrill…they are all lost like puffs of smoke once you begin unwrapping your prize.

Things like habit, ego, & character nuance start leaking everywhere and suddenly, your ‘perfect catch’ becomes unpleasantly realistic….the Worldly Genius reveals a drinking habit… the Quiet Artist has a terrible temper…the Young Model lacks ambition…

One starts to drift into the memory, relishing the hours spent in deep conversation, spent twisted rapturously in bed-sheets, spent tasting new flavors & experiences with an equally-curious partner.

Why does familiarity breed such contempt?
I won’t pretend to know, but it is precisely why I no longer subject myself to ‘being owned’ in a long-term relationship type setting.
I have never found myself anxiously trying to escape a monogamous relationship, but ultimately, I have found myself feeling disrespected for my desires, chastised for my curiosity, and shamed for expressing interest in exploring my sexuality in safe settings.

While enjoying life as a single woman, unbound by monogamy, the men I have met have never reduced me to a few compartmentalized pieces.
When I meet men as an independent woman, I am treated with respect, and my potential is never frowned upon or argued with… I am seen as whole, strong, and in control.
Why would a woman ever want to give up her power in order to become lesser or even ‘just so’, in the eyes of another?

In an ideal relationship, two humans meet each other in open-minded curiosity.
They do not make judgement or punish, nor try to gain power positions over the other.
It is thoroughly a pleasant meeting of two minds, both parties filling the garden table with delight, pleasure, discovery, and general goodwill… Neither party gluttonous or shrewd.
Man should delight in woman, and woman in man.
((or woman in woman, man in man, whatever your fancy, indeed.))

Both parties should feel more fulfilled, more sated & more in love with life itself for the meet. If not, why bother at all?

All Art is But Dirtying the Paper Delicately

“Never forget that all these people are primarily a visual people.
They are designers, window dressers, models, photographers, graphic artists.
They design the windows at Saks.
Do you understand?
They are a visual people, and they value the eye,
and their sins, as Saint Augustine said,
are the sins of the eye.
And being people who live on the surface of the eye,
they cannot be expected to have minds or hearts.
It sounds absurd but it’s that simple.
Everything is beautiful here, and that is all it is: beautiful.
Do not expect anything else,
do not expect nourishment for anything but your eye—and you will handle it all beautifully.
You will know exactly what you are dealing with.”

Andrew Holleran, Dancer from the Dance


So many people know me in my professional & social life as hard, cold, calculated, aloof, solitary & strange. I find it amusing that for the most part, my private, emotional & sensual dealings with people don’t overtake the energy equilibrium in my life.

I have been approached many times throughout the years of my life for sexual & sensual healing or relief. Often, people aren’t consciously aware of doing it.
Within my own boundaries & space, I choose to interact with the person or not.

Many people question why I do the things I do.
Many people find it unhealthy, unfaithful, morally or socially questionable, and so on.
Many people have told me that to flaunt sexuality, or to reveal the body is cheapening or disrespecting the Feminine as a whole.

I disagree.
I fundamentally believe in my power within the female form.
I believe in my right to be comfortable with my body.
My body truly is my temple.
I believe in my right to adorn or uncover my temple as I see fit.
I believe in my right to allow whoever I choose to see any part of my body.
If female nakedness intimidates you, feel free to walk other paths.
Nudity is Natural.
Body shame is not tolerated in any form.