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 like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things

fd9aca7170246c6b4c67fc784bc89b31When it comes to desirability, I have always had dual thought in regards to myself.

I know, from life experience, that I am considered a desirable, nay, intoxicating & addictive biological female human specimen. I have learned my traits of optimal desire, and have learned to exploit them.

However, the split between my logical brain and my emotional one means I remain cut off from the ability to ‘feel’ or ‘see’ my attractiveness for myself, unless I shut down my logical brain and just get sexy…. usually when I’m exercising or dancing… logically, ((ha!)) any activity that I utilize my body & become wholly physical and energetic.

Sex has the potential to bring about feelings of being sexy, but in the past, more often than not, they’ve been acted-out feelings rather than genuine ones. ((I very rarely vocalize my feelings to humans because I assume everyone can mind-read, of course. Please play catch-up with those of us who can read your feelings & thoughts… it will make everyone’s lives easier. 😉 ))

When I tell a partner for the first time that I have never had an orgasm before from anyone3ab48a096fb8f16e723d2583a08ae75c but myself, they are often confused, then unremarkably & unjustifiably… hurt?!

Why do people become offended that other people have not successfully conquered my body’s electric circuitry?

I assume it’s more a matter of feeling like they’re about to begin a long, thankless journey into the unknown territory of A Pussy That Has Never Came. Poor souls seem to become deaf to the part where I mentioned that I’ve had orgasms, just never from another’s hand. I’m not sure why this is. Perhaps it’s my body’s way of telling me who’s Mate & Partner Material. That would be fascinating to research. Perhaps I simply have not found enough men with genuine love & passion for a woman’s body.
I suppose as the sayings always say, time will tell.

I have always appreciated the idea of settling down with an older man.

The first I really committed to the idea of was Mr. Scootercat. Now that I look back on him, I see a frail old man, terrified of the world and reliant upon his mother & his cats.

I tried so hard to love him… holding him in my arms as he would take trips to the past… reading type-written pages on good days, listening to one song on 24-hour repeat on bad days… he was stubbornly attached to the notion that the world was doing him wrong with no solution.

It’s the same with most of my relationships with older men, I feel like I miss out when they end… but I know that I’ve just been in love with an ideal or a projection…ghosts and long-dead stars, sending out echoes that reach my ears in romantic whispers.

The Memory of the Blaze Burns in the Heart & Mind Forever

c969ddf708db2b4994d5b13bc7086db0I’ve been noticing that I’ve been framing a lot of my blogs in a ‘distressed damsel’ kinda manner, and I want to clear up that this is not the case. I do find myself in many pickle jars, but I tend to enjoy pickles, and don’t mind chewing my way through them. I have taken care of myself since the age of sixteen, and I am happy to reassure the public that I know what I need for survival & beyond.

I sometimes wonder if having the tease of almost-perfect relationships in my older days is karmic consequence from my insensitivity & cold behavior in my youth.

Before the age of 14 I wasn’t allowed to date, living in my father’s house. When I moved to my mother’s, she didn’t mind, as long as I stayed safe. My first boyfriend, Mr. Pepperoni was sweet and dumb… your normal teenage boy. I didn’t really fancy him, I was being polite when I agreed to date him, which was my usual way in the future… all of a sudden being thrust into relationships I had only halfheartedly agreed to in the first place.

I found myself becoming overtly rude when speaking to him, or acting irrationally irritable at small inquiries or comments… It was in an effort to corner him into breaking up with me, but the poor lad didn’t know what to do with himself. I finally told him in a phone call one night it just wasn’t working out and I wasn’t really feeling attracted anymore.
I still feel bad for him, I shouldn’t have been so harsh as a kid who knew firsthand about bullies and how shitty they can make people feel.

Being shitty to people, especially in relationships, got old really fast. I changed tack, if I didn’t like someone, I told them & left. Clean, quick and simple.
Sometimes they didn’t leave.
Mr. Blue had to be police-escorted away because he refused to stop living in my apartment. He was an interesting time. Wild, verbally & emotionally manipulative, moody, but be damned if I didn’t want to have a body part of his in my mouth at all times. I suppose I can’t blame it on teen-aged hormones, since females apparently hit their peaks in their forties, but whatever it was, I wanted to bottle it up & sell it, and could have.

He was fond of telling me it was my fault he couldn’t get a job, and that I should get him one. I had at that point already done the ‘get a boyfriend a job for them’ thing, and I refused to do it again. Which of course meant I was a selfish bitch setting him up to fail and all that.
Many times in relationships I am doomed to the ‘Selfish Bitch’ role.

The best one I’ve ever gotten is ‘You’re a fucking nazi…no, no…you’re the QUEEN of the Nazis!’ I thought that was fantastic verbiage of insult & incredible use of vocabulary. Obviously, it really stuck with me, I was genuinely impressed and delighted.

I suppose as one who grew up with other children pulling me down hallways by my hair, calling me unbearably mean names, asking me age-inappropriate questions due to carrying my father’s surname, and outright abusing me, as well as enduring both seclusion, confinement & abuse at home… People who try to hurt or insult me now are adorably laughable.

Ironically, growing up, there was a relative of mine who told me ‘A day will come when you’ll just laugh it off, and words won’t mean anything to you anymore.’
I thought they were absolutely insane.
Words are my everything.
Words are what humans use to communicate, words are all anyone has!

But I didn’t know at such a young age that some people are just mean, or don’t know how to ‘use their words good.’ I eventually figured it out, and now try to communicate as effectively as I can, while respecting another’s feelings or life path. I have found that genuinely respecting people goes pretty far, and that people know when you’re faking.

Love Tames the Benumbed Beast

“A man is put to use regarding a woman’s physical safety, but a woman is put to use regarding a man’s mental safety.” – Criss Jami

28135272b0c67d9c893bd27617da0d6eI watched an interesting documentary last night on sex workers in other countries called Whore’s Glory.
The segment that inspired me to think about the topic of this blog was the first, which followed women in Thailand.

The girls would do their thing and make their money, but then relax and unwind by spending all of their earnings in bars. These bars are basically the male version of their own work… the women pay men to sit and drink with them.

I found it highly astounding, and quickly fired off some neurons to explore the concept a little deeper inside my brain’s sandbox. 774bf9074d404472f19c07383c8e2acf

I thought that the idea of a female supporting someone else isn’t new, from a sexworker’s standpoint…
A large majority of sex workers support entire households.

Conversely, the men & women that financially support sex workers by paying them for service are no different… If humans are able to pay for pleasure, why should I be the one to exert a limit on who can or cannot?

Silly me.
I wanted to go further.
In ancient times, the female Priestess, Sacred Whores, Queens and Goddesses were revered & swathed in gifts, tributes, sacrifices, absolute finery.

Befriending one of these sacred women must have been a very fine social position indeed. Imagine the hand-me-downs of a woman considered to be an incarnation of a ruling Goddess – Lordt, give me the job!

I thought of the idea that the very rich, who very often avail of our services, are in a sense handing us the keys to the redistribution of wealth. Sacred Whores very probably had a duty to give back to the community they resided within. I think in today’s modern age that would look like charity work, small business & job creation, the continuation of education, and generally spreading goodness within your environment… Fostering growth, secretly planting flowers everywhere, bringing cookies to retirement homes, saving stray cats, real feel-good stuff, ya know?! 😉


I Pointed Ahead – Ahead of Myself as well as You

d6250616c2d81fd85afb60f4f3efa5c5The men that have come and gone into my life have always held lessons out to me like juicy, ripe, foreign fruit.

I learned early on in my life that what looks appealing to the eye may not be so fine beneath the surface.

In our elementary school we had a crab apple tree that the poor kids would run to at recess in lieu of the candy lines.
One day, I broke open an apple before eating it to discover earwigs pouring out of the center.

It was a lesson in lessons… Discovery is not always pleasant, however you can always transform something unpleasant into something useful… I threw it at a kid that had been bullying me.

I love the men that can teach me things. I hold the education & exercise of the mind in unbelievably high esteem, and so men that expand the mind are among my most cherished & sought-after gifts to myself.

I consider my relationship with such men to become distinctly paternal in nature, through no fault of either party.b0b60e490b678c12537970b23310be01

I have observed that when men think they are teaching, guiding or introducing a female to new experiences, sexually or otherwise, they seem to develop a sense of overt pride & care for the female they’ve poured their ‘knowledge’ into.

I suppose it would be the sense of creation in a way, the idea or belief that you’ve concretely influenced or left a mark on a person’s character or life, and subsequently, their future. This, I assume, would be where the paternal feelings develop for the male.

It can be entirely unfortunate when a man is unable to understand, face, or work through these feelings. It can lead to the breakdown of a relationship due to an unconscious feeling of having to ‘take care’ of a partner, or there can be a mental disconnect or power struggle that develops internally, creating unstable communication or chaotic dynamics in the day-to-day routine.

The men that have been transient in my life have taught me the most, and are among my more cherished memories of men.

Mr. Sweet-n-Low was a wonderfully sweet, 40-something-year-old man with a laid-back, extremely comfortable manner. He had an ‘ol retriever dog & always bought us coffee.
We would smoke weed and snuggle on the couch listening to music, tossing the wet, slobbery green tennis ball for pup. He never made me feel anything but cozy and warm.be597c3fa6b89eaf8f6c9bf494982a25

We rummaged around in his attic one night for fun. He gifted me a beautiful old vintage hand-sewn wedding dress that he pulled out of that attic. I still own it and think of him.

Mr. Chops was another man who was transient but so sweet.
I like to imagine that my Houdini-men are wonderfully broken, wild, modern-day Richard Burtons… fragmented and sharp, and that they do not stay because they fear cutting me too much. That although they are toughened, with sandpaper tongues and razorteeth, they still melt like heated honey when I touch them…that my voice is like home to these lost soldiers… that they find momentary respite in my innocent, wide, young arms.

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.

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. 😉