widowcentauri

Archive for August, 2009|Monthly archive page

Man Fits

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bitch, bitchy, bullshit, cheap men, culture, culture clash, deviance, dominatrix, drama, Education, Family, FAQ, fights, gender, Gender bending, GLBT, GLBTQ, Kindness, neurosis, paying for it, politics, Pride, San Diego, Widow Centauri on August 29, 2009 at 8:23 pm

Lately it seems that a lot of full-grown men feel inspired to yell at me.  This is both sad and pathetic.  As an activist working to remove the gender binary I can see these more prevalent man fits as being a sign of the changing times.  But in a world that says it is not alright for boys to cry why is it alright for men to throw fits that make them look more like 14 year old girls than men?

Maybe it is the fact that I am living my dreams.  When a woman decides peruse her education far beyond that of the men in her family, she takes a certain risk.  A risk that does not guarantee that the aforementioned men will treat her with respect, or even be civil for that matter.

My father, bless his pointed little head, threw a full fledged fit where he called me some very nasty names and told me point blank that I was never wanted and basically ruined his life.

Another man in my family has been screaming at me all day about the ludicrousness of my research, insisting that school and education should be for pragmatic reasons and nothing more.  “Airplanes, the internet and stuff.” Obviously the value of critical thought was not very well instilled in his belief system.  Oh well, it is typical for men who feel threatened to lash out at women who take charge and pursue their dreams.  Especially when the woman doing it was voted “most like to do time” in high school.

Though my experience in San Diego does feel like doing time, I am not.  I am working hard to attain a level of education that will allow me to be a professional scholar.  If you find yourself wondering why I would want that you obviously have not read enough of my blog.  I value literacy and I would like to encourage other people to up the bar in regards to intellectual pursuits.  It is high time our lazy greedy American society got off its carcass and read something.  With all of the pointless celebrities and mass media bullshit out there how is it possible for anyone to learn to love learning?  We are all so bombarded with adverts about how to make it big, how to add more bling to our lives, the newest widget for the lowest price – it will make your teeth white and your bank account full, it will give you sex appeal, it will solve all your problems, bla bla bla.  I’m sick of the pointlessness of American values.  I want to go door to door encouraging people to watch the BBC, giving them library cards and telling them that pretty is not enough, you need to smarten up – all of you.

Man fits are something that I am going to have to learn to cope with.  I can see that as I project a new more intellectual self, people are going to yell at me, call me names and expect that I care.  I don’t.

Some of the names I have been called through the course of the last man fit week include depressed, capitalist, bunion, and abusive.  This is not an exhaustive list as many many hours have gone into the ordeal of dealing with these petty insecurities being strewn at me.  This is just the short list of funny things I am not.  These are the ones that stood out as the sad lashing out that happens when men feel threatened.

Pity the hot chick is smarter than you, isn’t it.

Three Pissing Adventures

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, deviance, dominatrix, FAQ, fetish, fun, Golden Showers, kink, Model Mayhem, Parties, performance, perverts, Photographer, pissing, politics, porn, Pride, Public, San Francisco, sexual politics, sexuality, traveling, Widow Centauri on August 21, 2009 at 10:40 pm

I am flat broke.  I am in a coffee house.  I have a gallon of water, a bus pass and a dollar to my name.  When this cup of tea ends up in my belly I have to go back to my temporary place of slumber to see my cat and my bio family.  I have to take a wicked piss.
I have had a couple good piss sessions since I have been in the city.  Three actually.  They were all super hot.
I met a boy in front of a bar adjacent to Golden Gate Park.  He had a car with dark tinted windows, the kind that are illegal in California.  We jumped in his car and drove it to the side of the park.  I ordered him to strip naked and stroke his prick for me.  As he amused with his little doggy show I pulled off my dark green tights and had him push his seat back all the way.  I climbed up onto his shoulders and squatted over his face.  I shot a stream of piss into his mouth and ordered him to swallow it.  I shot another one and then another one really quickly.  He dribbled a little on his nice leather seat.  “Don’t dribble or your car will be covered in piss,” I told him.  “Open” I demanded.  I let a long slow stream of piss into his mouth.  He tried to swallow it without closing his mouth.  It ended up getting all over the place.  I laughed and kept pissing.
At some point I tried spinning around and pissing into his mouth with my ass in his face but the design of the auto was not accommodating. I didn’t have enough clearance to sit up so I went back to my original position and emptied my bladder into his mouth just as a random pedestrian came walking by.  It was a nice way to welcome me to the city.
A few days later I found myself in the east bay with a man who has a very large and sexy collection of vintage nightgowns.  After the long ride on the BART I had to piss something crazy.  As soon as I got there I has him put on a pretty pair of panties and lay down (on the piss bed he had made with tarps and sheets in anticipation of my arrival).  I gushed all over him.  I stood above him as he lay there in his silky little lacy things and emptied my bladder all over his face, onto his panties, and it just kept coming.  I had more piss that day then I usually have.  By the time I got to his place I was working on my third gallon of water and shit if he didn’t almost drown.  At one point he had to sit up cause he was chocking on piss.  It was a sexy little sadistic thrill watching him suffer like that.
We played all day long.  I pissed on him three times.  Long hard pissing, not little trickles.  I made him come in his panties and then I made him take me back to the BART while he was covered in my urine.  I didn’t even let him wash or dry the pee off him.  I just told him to put on something he could be seen in and away we went.  As long as he did what he was told, he should be sitting in the pissy panties at his office job right about now.
The third, and hopefully not last, good piss time I have had in this wonderful part of the country happened yesterday when I went on what was a seemingly benign photo shoot.  I met the photographer at a coffee house near the beach.  We headed down to the ocean to shoot me pissing off some strange old sewer block.  The thing had a crazy cesspool around it.  I stood at the top of this bizarre concrete, graffiti covered, monstrosity and pissed down into the cesspool twenty feet below.  He took pictures from a variety of angles. Two actors who were rehearsing there put up with our strange behavior as long as they could, then they quietly left.  A strange dude with a brown bag drink came walking by and offered to be my toilet.  Some tourists watched from a distance.  All in all, not a soul said anything unpleasant to us as we shot pissing porn across the city.  There were a lot of people on the beach yesterday.  It was a nice day in san Francisco.  We could have never done that in socal.  I love this city.
After the pissing on the beach we crossed the street and headed to the park.  We shot a variety of interesting things.  Pissing was the intention so we shot strange art and as I had urine to expel we shot piss photos.  It was one of the most wonderful photo shoots I have ever had.  He was fun to work with, he took awesome photos and he was able to tell stories about Foucault.  Apparently the piss shooting photographer had lunch with Foucault some twenty years ago.  He told me about his food and sexual habits.  Foucault was pretty into the gay kink scene here in San Francisco.  He liked fisting, also he ate his sandwich with a fork and knife.  I need to know more about my favorite philosopher’s odd behavior.  I like fisting and could read Foucault all day, every day.  I was wildly impressed with the level of intellectual conversation that the photo shoot engendered.  And wait till you see the photos.  My gawd they are fucking hot.
So those are the three pissing adventures I have had in the city.  Hopefully they are not the only ones I will have.  I leave Tuesday and like I said at the beginning of this series of stories:  I’m in the city, I’m broke and I have to pee.  Call me up if you want to make yourself useful!
Widow Centauri
619.884.2376

“Men’s” Sexuality

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, bondage, bullshit, censorship, closeted faggot, corporate america, Cuckold, culture, culture clash, dating, deviance, discrimination, Education, facism, FAQ, forced feminazation, friendship, fun, Gay, gender, Gender bending, GLBT, GLBTQ, Golden Showers, Kindness, kink, Lesbian, paying for it, performance, perverts, pissing, politics, Public, queer, sensual domination, Sex, sexual politics, sexuality, slave, violence, whores, Widow Centauri on August 19, 2009 at 1:05 am

I am sitting in a coffee house in San Francisco.  I’m reading Foucault and sipping matte but switching to Guinness.  Usually, in socal, when people see what I am reading they back away intimidated.  Here I get “wow – that is heavy stuff” and a conversation about sociology, drugs, yoga, and politics.  The people behind me are talking of socialism.  This city is a splendid place to be smart, kinky, queer and avoid sunshine.  I’m game to spend a lot more time here.
But my adventures in the city are not what I sat down to write about.  I sat to write about men’s sexuality.  Since I was a little girl, being socialized in the states, I have noticed the adverts on the front of women’s magazines regarding men’s sex lives.  Please him this way and that way – 1000 ways to please him, blab la bla.  I have read the same tired advice on men’s sexuality rewritten in the same tired trite and coy way every time I have sat down to take a peek and see if things have changed.  The mags seem to give the same advice they gave twenty years ago.  I’m sick to tears of it.  Men’s sexuality is something that I happen to know a lot about.  I have interviewed hundreds of men about their sexual preferences, fantasies, kinks, desires, wives, and the reality of getting some.  Most men have sexual desires that far exceed what main stream women’s mags are prepared to publish.
Based on my years of ethnographic research I have a little something to say about this.  Besides the obvious idea that we need to move beyond a limited range of acceptable desires I would venture to argue for the removal of taboo and silence around real world sexuality.  One of the reasons men seek the services of sex workers is because they are intimidated and terrified of their own desires; the idea that someone they care about might discover said desires and run screaming for the hills, thus no longer giving the love these men desperately need.
I have this friend I am worried about.  He is in his 40s and he is not capable of articulating his sexual interests to the women who he dates.  He is a cross dresser.  He loves women and women’s clothing, but he is so wrapped up in the construct of what constitutes acceptable sexuality that he can not honor his desires with women who he might bring home to mom.  He is a closet case who can only enjoy his true desire with sex workers.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love sex workers.  I am one. Sex workers are providing a very needed service in a world where sexuality is cringing with taboo.  The services of sex workers is a way for people to get the sex that they need without having to confront the larger social issue of taboo and sexual repression.  We need a holiday for sex workers: a day of respect to honor the people who serve the sexual needs of the insecure and closet cases.  Dealing with this shit is hard work.  Repression builds up like cholesterol in the arteries.  Sex workers help to lower the tension that repression fosters.
There are many kinds of sexuality.  There are people who never have a chance to experience much more than traditional sexual experiences with a tad of the fringe that has been socially sanctioned.  Missionary with a few minutes of doggy style anyone?
Sexual repression manifests itself in many ways.  Often my clients have had upbringings that did not prepare them to be sexual creatures.  I have seen hundreds of adult men who have never had fulfilling sexual relationships.  People who cannot have a sex conversation with their partners.  Often when a new client comes into my life he cannot even tell me the intricate details of his fantasy, stuttering with ummms and hesitations between short stories of things he has seen on the internet.
This world is a sad place for developing sexuality.  We are not teaching comprehensive sex education, let alone communication skills regarding fantasy fulfillment.  The limited range of acceptable sexual expression infuriates me.
Why do we limit ourselves and say silly things like “I would never do that”? If the activity is consensual, not life threatening, and sexy to your partner why would you say no?  Fear, repression, expectations of society? Maybe.  But there is a lot that goes into the development of being sexual.
We are not born with a fixed and stagnant sexuality.  We are told what we should want: heterosexual, monogamous, missionary style sex.  But how many people are truly satisfied with this model of sexual expression?  Few, if any.  As we develop as human beings we move through spaces and stages, meeting people and seeing things that turn us on and off, confuse us and our ethical sense of sexual desire.
But to fight our desires and box our sexual experience, as though it is a fixed point in a time line, is the most ridiculous thing we can do.  When people say they are gay, straight, bi, or some other limiting sexual preference, what they are telling me is that they have not thought trough the possibilities, the experience that they are missing by saying no to a whole range of sexual opportunities and possible experience.  How fucking dull.
When women’s magazines give advice about how to please a man they are reinforcing a set of limited, acceptable, sexual behaviors.  Heteronormative desires that reinforce a constricted range of love, human desire, and potential.  When we pick a checkbox of sexuality we give credence to the limitations that we have been offered as a society and as individuals.  Sexual preference should depend on which way the wind blows, not some pre determined idea of right and wrong.
I want my sex to be hot.  That is my preference.  I rarely care if it is with someone who has a sex of genitalia that they identify as being their gender / bio sex, if they are gay straight, or whatever.  Just so long as they can make it hot.  It is the chemistry and the passion that make a good time, not your identity.  We need to get the idea of social values, hierarchies, privilege, morals and ethics out of sex.  In this day and age sex is for one thing and one thing only: PLEASURE!

I’m Performing at the Rockit Room in San Francisco — Tuesday August 11! It’s Free ~~ Come and Laugh!

In American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, Comedy, corporate america, culture clash, dating, deviance, discount domination, dominatrix, drama, drinking on August 10, 2009 at 7:47 pm

Tuesdays – 8:00PM
Comedy Blast!
Comedy Showcase
Hosted by Danny Dechi
at The Rockit Room
Free Admission!
406 Clement Street (cross 5th Avenue), San Francisco
(415) 387-6343