I’ve met a fair amount of people through the internet and my absolute favorite place for meeting people in real life is Baskin Robbins. I’ve gone there in both boy mode and casual girl mode (no six inch heels), and it always works great. Everyone likes ice cream and if you’re watching your weight you can get the soy / low fat stuff, which is really good. There’s no pressure at all and none of the attitude that you often get in bars. If it’s not going well you can easily cut it short, and if you get stood up you still get: Ice Cream!
What’s on my Nightstand
I just started reading Helen Boyd’s book, “My Husband Betty,” and have really been enjoying it. She takes a really clear-eyed look at her experiences being married to a crossdresser. She’s very honest about her mixed and complex feelings on the subject, both good and bad. (Betty’s really cute too, by the way.)
I appreciated her comments about how some crossdressing groups, in particular Tri-Ess, seem to deny that there’s any sexual element to crossdressing, which has always seemed to me to be ignoring reality. She makes the point that if that’s so, then “Why do crossdressers spend so much time looking at lingerie catalogs?” Pretty funny and so true.
Now I don’t want to slam Tri-Ess. I think it’s a helpful organization for many people and some of my good friends are members. I’ve even been to a couple meetings, but being bisexual and definitely having a sexual thing for the dressing left me feeling like I didn’t really belong there. Sure, as I’ve grown older, dressing isn’t only about getting off sexually anymore, but I can’t deny the roots of it, which for me is certainly a sexual fetish. I remember being eight years old and getting an erection thinking about girls’ clothes and being tied up in them.
Now that I’m in my forties I have pierced ears and wear a purple watch that’s obviously pretty girly, even when I’m in boy mode. And there’s no sexual thrill there. But I do have a hard time figuring out where the fetish ends and the transgenderism begins. It all seems so mixed together. And it seems to become more of an obsession as I get older – not in a red-hot “Oh my god” I-have-to-jack-off sort of way – but rather as a quieter but fairly constant thing that’s so often on my mind as I go about my day. It can really be a pain in the ass sometimes to constantly be checking out what women are wearing and so often daydreaming about ways to bring more and more of the femme presentation into my life, and just generally being self-absorbed with the subject. Would I be a happier person if I wasn’t a crossdresser? I don’t know.
Subtlety at the Industry of Death Museum
My friend Kim and I recently went to the bizarre Scientology anti-psychiatry museum that recently opened in Hollywood on Sunset Blvd. It’s quite an experience and the building and displays are pretty impressive. Obviously there’s plenty of room to criticize psychiatry, but they seem to get a bit carried away. I’d say the most effective parts of the museum are the displays on abuses in mental hospitals and the horrors of lobotomies and other bizarre treatments from the past. Their criticism of psychiatric drugs makes some good points too. Hell, I’m on Prozac myself and want to get off it eventually.
But the odd thing about the museum is how absolute their total condemnation is. They blame so much on psychiatry: genocide, the Holocaust, racism, violence in schools, apparently even 9/11. It’s as though everything about psychiatry is evil – Everything! Like they’re saying it has done absolutely no good for anyone in the world – Ever! Which just seems to be taking things a bit far, and is a clumsy way for anyone to make an argument. There’s so little in the world that’s that black and white. A little more subtlety actually would have made a much stronger case. As it stands I just walked out thinking, what’s going on with this? What’s the motivation here?
One pretty cool thing, from my own twisted perspective, is all the great medical restraints on display. They have some great gear that I’d love to own: straightjackets, leather straps and manacles, and this awesome blue leather mummy bag. The thing has a hood and laces up the front and even has straps that can be used to lash it to the wall so that the person inside is forced to stand upright completely sealed up inside it. It would cost a small fortune at a bdsm shop.
I think the next time I have out of town visitors I’ll have to take them here and then in the afternoon perhaps pay a visit to the even more bizarre Museum of Jurassic Technology (totally cool and without the creepiness factor of Scientology), for a nice day of complete L.A. weirdness.
Bill Gates at Work
I was struck by this picture on the CNN website of Bill Gates at work in his office. He’s just another guy in a cubicle with a potted plant in the corner. Who would have guessed?
Are You a Musician?
I was out in boy mode getting my annual eye check-up and a guy in the waiting room started up a conversation and asked that question again, “Are you a musician?” It’s the hair, earrings and tight low-rise jeans. I wish I’d just said, “Oh, no, transvestite…” I’m going to have to try to get into the habit of using that, it would be very freeing.
Requiem for a Dream
I missed this movie when it first came out in 2000 but recently caught the DVD. It’s totally harrowing, about four characters in Brooklyn suffering horribly from various addictions. The whole movie is permeated with images of drugs, loneliness and despair. It’s the kind of movie where at the end you’re sitting there silently thinking, “I don’t feel so good…”
There’s some funny comments on the IMDB message boards, especially the ones about “movies that make you feel like crap.” It is a real downer, but I think it’s brilliant and an important movie about the suffering of life and the ways that so many of us try to avoid it. The DVD has an interview with the author Hubert Selby Jr., who wrote the novel it’s based on, and it’s very enlightening.
The Lodge Last Night
Last night Kim and I went out to the Lodge. Word is that they’ve lost their lease and will be closing this summer.
It was an odd night. There seemed to be a lot of people I’d never seen before (not that I really go that much), and the vibe felt different. At one point we went over to the dance floor and the sound system wasn’t working, it was just jukebox music, so people were just standing around talking like at a cocktail party. Later things picked up a little. One very funny guy insisted on sitting on my lap and taking some pictures and an interesting guy from the techie end of the movie business told me about his interest in one night stands with trannies, and about keeping it secret from his regular straight life (married with kids). He wasn’t gross or anything, just matter of fact since I was asking him a lot of questions. He didn’t hit on me, which was nice (he knew I was a bondage freak but shared none of those interests). We just had an interesting talk, which can be rare in clubs.
The Girl in the Box
I was taking care of a neighbor’s cat and while hanging out I found a true crime book on her bookshelf called “Perfect Victim,” about the kidnapping of a young woman, Carol Smith, in 1977. She was picked up by a couple while hitchhiking and ended up being bound, gagged, blindfolded, with her head locked inside a specially-constructed wooden box that the man, Cameron Hooker, had built in hopes of finding a girl he could kidnap and enslave. She was kept by this guy and his wife for the next seven years, being used as his sex slave and suffering all kinds of horrible abuse, and spending much of the time locked in a sealed wooden box underneath their bed.
So I was petting the cat and reading the book, and found myself feeling horrified by it and also really turned on. I always feel guilty getting turned on by stories of horrible kidnappings and crimes that actually happened to someone. This was a real person who suffered terrible terrible things. And yet I was totally drawn into it. There were descriptions of how he restrained her and locked her up that really got to me. I read for about the next hour and half, like I was obsessed, turning the pages and skipping forward to “the good parts.” The reality was awful but I found myself reading it like it was a fantasy. I don’t know whether to feel bad about that or not.
Blogger Spam
I just had my first taste of blogger spam. Someone left a long comment with tons of links for Online Casinos and Phentermine and so on. Wow, those people never let up. I guess there’s enough of a financial pay-off for spammers to keep working even though everyone hates them – worse than politicians.
Some of my favorites spam emails are the ones with the randomly generated sender names. Here’s some recent favorites:
Wassim Straube
Wayne Dowdy
Can Schiff
Dobromil Wommack
Sergio Rogers
And my all-time favorite: Malachi Gonzalez
Old Harmony Bondage Techniques Series
As I mentioned earlier, at the end of May the folks at Threshold in North Hollywood have gotten me to agree to teach the new monthly bondage class. I’m really looking forward to it, and I’m trying to brush up on my skills a little between now and then.
Harmony’s Bondage Life magazine had a great series back in the early nineties called Chelsea Pfeiffer’s Bondage Techniques. I’ve got a few of the old magazines but I knows there’s some that I missed and I’d love to check them out. I think there was one issue specifically on chair ties and another on chest ties and harnesses, and some others I can’t remember.
If anyone has any of these old issues, or even just the articles from them, and is willing to part with them, I’d love to do a trade: maybe a month or two of membership at Trannies In Trouble, or I could exchange some other old Harmony magazines or VHS tapes or even my CD-ROM. Anyway, if you have any of them feel free to leave a comment or drop me an email.
Here’s the issues from that series that I already have (#s 44, 47, 48, 49 and 52):
Sleepwalking
I was reading about people who’ve been using the sleep drug Ambien and have been sleepwalking, binge eating, and even driving without being aware of it. And it reminded me of something that used to happen to me when I was a child.
I never used sleeping pills, but occasionally I used to get overheated at night and then sleepwalk around the house. It was a really disturbing experience because I would be in a kind of half asleep / half awake state. I sort of knew what was going on but couldn’t snap out of it. I remember I would usually have some strange delusional idea going on at the same time. Once I was convinced that someone had buried a bomb in our backyard and that we were all in danger. Another time I remember walking into my parents’ room without even knocking and my Mom screamed bloody murder. My parents turned on the lights and tried to calm me down but I was so disoriented that I had no idea what they were saying. Another time I dug out a bunch of board games and vaguely remember looking through the “Chutes and Ladders” box, imagining that I’d lost something terribly important and had to find it.
Eventually I would come out of it but it always seemed to take a while – maybe 30 minutes or an hour – and while I came to my senses I would be shaking and crying with this weird feeling of danger. Not pleasant at all. I think the last time that happened I was probably about thirteen.
Sigmund Freud’s Birthday. So then I was reading the Newsweek cover story about Sigmund Freud. As the article says, he was wrong about so many things, but had some major ideas that are still with us today – among them the idea of the unconscious and the idea that “human life is essentially conflicted,” that we all have wishes and impulses that we actively suppress. I’m always amazed at the inappropriate thoughts I often have – petty resentments and jealousies and desires for revenge. If we could all look into each other’s minds without any filters we’d all be so damned embarrassed that we could hardly function.
Dream Last Night. Speaking of the unconscious, I had a funny dream last night. I was back in my childhood home and this young couple were on the back patio gesturing for me to let them in. They told me a story about needing help, I let them in, and then the man pulled a gun on me. I said something like, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” He pulled out a roll of duct tape and told me to put my wrists together. I told him, “Look, I’m always able to escape so don’t bother.” He paused a moment, looked at the woman, said, “Well, okay,” and then they just gave up and left without even trying to rob me. Weird.
More with Tristy
Tristy has been planning to move out of the area for a while, so I’ve been seeing her a bit more than usual. I’ll really miss her when she goes. We spent the evening at the St. George Motor Inn in beautiful Tarzana, California, last night and I shot a lot of pictures with her. The San Fernando Valley gets no respect but I really like it up there and would probably move there if it wasn’t so blasted hot in the summer.
I put Tristy in about four or five different ties and had a wonderful time with her. She’s always so thin and smooth and I love getting the ropes on her and feeling her up a bit. I’m sure she didn’t mind. At the end I hugged her for a long time and felt a bit melancholy knowing that she’d soon be leaving and that this might be the last time we get together for a long time.
Last Night’s Webcam
I had a great time on the webcam last night, though it was over much sooner than I had hoped. Bondage is tiring! My friend BT was over here and we started around 3:00 in the afternoon. He really put me through it, doing several fairly stringent ties, spanking me HARD many times, pulling my hair and even bagging me briefly. By 7:00 PM I was a mess and we were signed off around 7:30. I’ll have to make it up with an even longer self-bondage next time. I still love the idea of broadcasting a 24 hour bondage session but I think the only way you could do it is if it was only moderate bondage with no extra torment going on. Just being tied up for a long time is exhausting enough. If it were a stringent hogtie with spanking and pinching going on there’s no way I could make it past a couple hours.
Potentially Embarrassing Physical Exam
I went in for a yearly check-up this morning (in boy mode) and was shocked to see that I still had some hickey marks from the cupping set that Ms. D. had used on me Friday night at Club Fantasy. There were still two red circles on my abdomen that were quite visible. I don’t even know much of anything about cupping, but had tried it out on a whim. All weekend I’d been watching the marks and thinking, “Surely they’ll go away by Monday morning.” But no.
Oh well, actually the nurse was very cool and at first thought the marks were from an acupuncturist. Later I had to tell her, “Well, no, it wasn’t acupuncture.” I told her I’d been playing around with some mild S&M with a friend, and she was quite interested and it actually led to a nice conversation. She mentioned a large S&M house that she’d heard about in Los Angeles back in the 70s. Later we got to talking about our families and health problems of certain relatives. It was a very nice chat, so I guess the lesson is, if you get weird marks on your body from doing something kinky just cop to it and tell the truth. Everything will work out just fine (Yeah, that’s the ticket…)
Bloglines
If you’re fairly new to blogs like I am, Bloglines is a nice site that will notify you whenever your favorite blogs get updated. So if you’ve been reading this thing you won’t have to check here anymore and think, “That lazy bitch hasn’t written anything in days.” I finally figured out how to add the little subscribe button on the sidebar to the right. You just have to register with Bloglines, which is free and looks pretty good. There’re several blogs I occasionally check and this does help.
Club Fantasy
I went out to Club Fantasy tonight and wore my green top since it was St. Patrick’s Day. The turnout was unfortunately pretty low. I played a little with my friend Ms. D., who’s a total sweetheart (though she doesn’t want word to get out).
I was also talking to Tim, the coordinator at Threshold and he wore me down and finally talked me into teaching a monthly rope bondage class, starting in May (He can be very persuasive and is a real asset to the organization.) But Yikes! I do know a lot of the basics of tying people up but have never considered myself an expert by any means. I have been hoping, however, that they would start such a class, and since they needed someone to get it started, I guess it’s me. Plus, it’ll help push me out of my comfort zone, as speaking in front of people is about as much fun as dental work. I guess I really have got to get my stuff together and study up. I can deal with looking like a fool, I’d just prefer to not come across as a bumbling fool.
Blog Overload
Someone sent me this funny article from David Weinberger (from NPR) about too many blogs to read.
Newest Shoot with Tristy
It’s been a busy couple days. Tristy was over here yesterday for a nice visit and we shot a lot of new bondage pictures. One set in particular I really enjoyed. She shot some pictures of me tied up in the doorway, with a rope running down to the leather collar around my neck, forcing me to stand on tip-toe to avoid choking myself. It’s probably not good that dangerous stuff turns me on so much, but I did rather enjoy it. My face is turning a tiny bit red from the constriction. Here’s a little peek.
Later it was getting really late and somehow we ended up watching this really bad movie called “Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde.” It was about as lame as one would expect but it did have some pretty hot scenes with Sean Young. There’s no bondage but she does wear some nice business suits and this really sexy green leather dress.
Sean Young looking quite hot.
I remember she was also in this excellent “strung-out-on-coke” movie called “The Boost,” back in 1988, where in real life James Woods later put out a restraining order on her.
Anyway, it was getting really late so Tristy crashed at my place, but no, there was no sex – just some more light bondage for an hour or so.
Fun with Photoshop
Weekend: the Lodge, and Out of the Closet
So Saturday night my good friend Kim and I went out to the Lodge for some dancing and tranny watching. I wore my favorite tight black dress and Kim had a nice new wig and breast forms. A cute cute girl, A. (who does my hair), forced a White Russian on me – which contains cream and, I don’t know, heavy booze of some sort. I rarely drink and I really shouldn’t. I can’t handle much and I usually feel like crap afterwards. Plus, (as part of my recent honesty campaign), I’ll add that I also take anti-depressants, with which you’re not supposed to drink at all. As I’ve mentioned before, depression has been an ongoing struggle for me over the years. I’m absolutely the happiest I’ve ever been in my life but occasionally I’ll still have those moments of doubt and even despair. I’d love to get off the Prozac and Wellbrutin but fear that I might crash if I do. I’ve been on them for years though and it would be so nice to live without them. It’s a hassle, they’re expensive, and Prozac does tend to lower my libido a bit. But then I’ll have mornings where I wake up and life feels unbearable and I think, how the hell am I going to live without meds? Of course, probably about a third of the people in L.A. are on the same thing. It makes me wonder about our modern society when so many people need to be medicated just to get by.
Prozac and Wellbutrin websites: “I’m Ready to Experience Life!” Yippee!!! (Note: Your results may vary.)
OK, Back to the Fun. So Kim and I were at the Lodge, hanging out with friends, and I was getting a bit tipsy from one drink. A couple friends of ours took out some condoms and blew them up like balloons, making a huge inflatable cock with two smaller condom-balloons for balls. We danced quite a bit too and checked out all the other girls. It was a pretty good night. Occasionally I felt kind of alone sitting there, probably due to the booze, but for the most part it was a fun night out.
Morning After. But Sunday I woke up feeling horrible – low, depressed, and muttering to myself, “Why did I drink that damn thing?” Thankfully I had a photo shoot planned to take some pictures of Delilah. And since I was behind the camera, there wasn’t much pressure on me and it was just what I needed to relax and feel back to normal. Getting some rope in my hands and tying some knots is always a nice feeling.
Movie that Evening. Afterwards we hung out for a while and saw the opening scene to that Tom Cruise, “War of the Worlds” movie. Wow, that’s really violent and pretty creepy. I missed it in the theaters, so I borrowed the DVD and saw the rest of it last night. It’s quite good, though it’s hard to top the impact of that opening scene when the Aliens first appear and start to burst out of the ground. There are some shots with the tripod rising up through the smoke and fog that are really effective and gave me the Willies. Spielberg really captures that sense of helplessness, that there’s not a damn thing you can do to resist the invasion. I’ve read before the resonance that the film has with 9/11: There are tons of shots of people looking up with looks of shock and horror on their faces.