the devious brain

I had a very intense, realistic dream the other night where I was traveling to visit my grandfather. He was in a hospital and I was being led by staff members on a long, complicated route through the facility to his room. Just when I reached the end of the trek and was about to walk into the room itself, I woke up.

In my dream, I had no memory of the fact that my grandfather actually died before I moved away from the United States. That memory didn't even exist. So, while I was dreaming, I was really looking forward to seeing him and telling him about my husband and son.

After I woke up, I was sad for a few minutes, as my brain brought me back to reality, while I recognized that I wouldn't be seeing my grandfather again. Once I was fully awake, I was no longer sad, because I'd left the dream world behind.

I don't regret the dream. But it always amazes me how our subconscious can fool us when we're dreaming. An entire block of memory is just turned off so we can experience something that brings us pleasure, but then of course my subconscious tricked me into anticipating a visit with my grandfather and then waking me just as the carpet was yanked out from under my proverbial feet.

I often have very vivid, complex, and intense dreams, but I don't ever remember having a nightmare. Other people I know say they don't dream or they don't remember their dreams (it's probably the latter). So I probably have nightmares but not just before the waking hours, when we're most apt to recall a dream.

I wonder why some of us can dream so fully and remember then while others never do? All in all, I love dreaming and am glad that I am able to take such interesting surreal journeys sometimes.

bald women

I hope this is a trend that never catches hold: women shaving their head. But even if it does, I will not join the movement.

I've seen this look several times recently in various fashion magazines and in porn as well. I can't think of a better way to deliberately make a woman appear unattractive.

Why go out of your way to look like you are a cancer patient or recently liberated from an internment camp or had a very bad case of head lice?

I'm at a loss to understand why women do this on purpose to themselves. I've seen unattractive women improve their looks in a big way with abundant, healthy hair and a flattering hairstyle. But I can't think of a woman who looked better because she shaved off all her hair.

a most violent year

The husband and I are still working our way through the batch of Oscar DVD screeners sent by my friend in Los Angeles. He mailed a second batch recently, so we have quite a ways to go.

We most recently watched A Most Violent Year, a very stylish thriller with more of a slower European pacing to it. I found Oscar Isaac's performance in the lead to be somewhat derivative of Al Pacino; at times he seemed almost to be doing an impression of Pacino as he might appear in the role.

The real highlight of the film was Jessica Chastain in a sort of ice princess role. She gave a subtle, nuanced performance that was just breathtaking. She's really come into her own lately with some great roles, and I have to think even bigger things will soon be in her future. She's only received one Oscar nomination so far in her career, but I think that will soon change.

A Most Violent Year lacks the frenetic intensity of a Scorcese film, but it's still eminently watchable. I recommend it specifically because of Chastain. She is just stunning in the movie.

man's inhumanity to man

I heard a piece on the radio yesterday about a ceremony in Poland commemorating the 70th anniversary of Auschwitz's liberation in 1945.

At times it seems beyond belief that so many people so ruthlessly planned and operated the massive concentration camp and many more like it. At other times, when I read about things that groups like ISIS are doing now, it does not at all seem inconceivable.

For a while, I rented a room in Los Angeles from a woman whose father had been a prisoner in Auschwitz when he was a boy in his early teens. Although he was from a Jewish family in Poland, when he was arrested by the Nazis for black market activity, he had no papers on him so he was sent to a part of the camp for Polish Christians, where treatment was not the harshest.

She said her father never much talked about his experiences but that he never, ever wasted food when she was growing up. Every day, he checked food in the refrigerator to see that it was all right, and if anything looked like it was starting to turn, he would eat it right away.

Thinking of her and her father again gave me a sort of spooky feeling, like somehow history comes alive again in the stories one person passes on to another.

The letter shown below is somewhat on topic and prophetic in hindsight (larger size). It's amazing to think that two men could live at the same time and be of such radically different moral fiber.

a history of anilingus

I was double checking the correct spelling of anilingus for a post on my Tumblr and happened to read this bit on Wikipedia about the practice: "Forced and mostly public anilingus was used from time immemorial as a form of humiliation and punishment, usually of prisoners. The use of the practice in the Thirty Years' War was described by Grimmelshausen in Simplicius Simplicissimus (1668)."

It turns out Simplicius Simplicissimus is a novel and the author had been in the military at the time of the Thirty Years' War. So it had some basis in fact, but how do we know the author didn't embroider on the facts a bit? Wikipedia can be fascinating but also somewhat thin on verification, as is the case here.

So I headed off to Google to see what I could find about the history of anilingus. There wasn't much.

An article in Psychology Today mentions a bit about the history of anal sex but not anilingus itself, although it does misspell the word. And I did find some mentions that Mozart wrote a song about anilingus.

Back to the Thirty Years' War, that does sound like a believable story but it makes me wonder about the logistics of this. Did the victors all bend over and the prisoners had to do their thing? That strikes me as something rather boring after a while.

For what it's worth, neither my husband nor I are fans of anilingus. It just doesn't ring his or my chimes. I've only ever been with one man who asked me to do it to him, and I promptly said "no thanks."

There are some places my tongue just doesn't go, and that includes public lavatory floors, electric wall sockets, and a man's shit chute.

happy australia day!

Today is Australia Day here down under. In mood and spirit, and given that the national holiday falls mid-summer, it's somewhat equivalent to the Fourth of July for American witnesses like me.

The odd thing about the holiday, in my and some others' opinions, is that it celebrates a rather dismal event. It does not commemorate when Europeans discovered Australia, like the American's Columbus Day, or the date of independence, like the American Fourth of July.

Instead, it celebrates arrival of the first load of convicts in Australia.

That was a happy event? More than 750 prisoners, including their children and babies, were packed into six ships that took eight months to travel from Britain to what is now Sydney. Many were convicted for petty thievery, prostitution, drunkenness, brawling, and the like.

They were only the first of many prisoners sent to Australia on convict fleets. My husband is descended from several who arrived in these later ships, convicted for their activities in the Irish Republican Brotherhood, the organization that supported independence for Ireland in the nineteenth century. This probably explains his family's anti-royalist streak.

This rather dismal history aside, Australia Day now is a happy celebration, a time to gather with friends and family. So for those in the cold snowy north, we send you warm wishes from way down under.

the penis skirt

A rhetorical question for my male readers: on a cold autumn day, would you wear a skirt with a gaping hole that showed off your junk?

As further evidence that the lunatics are running the asylum known as the fashion industry, at the Paris fall show this week, designer Rick Owens introduced a new menswear collection that prominently featured skirt- and gown-like tunics with gaping holes for men to show off their cocks in public.

The holes in question sometimes resemble rips and other times like the arm and neck holes were put in the wrong place.

Simply put: what sane man would wear this shit?

I remember reading once about a man who suffered severe frostbite on his penis because his clothes were torn away in a car accident and he was exposed to the elements for too long. As a result, his cock had to be amputated.

If you wear a Rick Owens penis skirt on a cold fall day, you might face this same danger.

mister booty

This is very funny. Imagine driving down the street and seeing this happening and not spotting the camera crew. Kudos to the man for not breaking his ankle.

This is a British television commercial. If you're familiar with Los Angeles, however, you'll notice it certainly wasn't shot in London. It was filmed in downtown LA; if you look carefully, you can see several well known landmarks and other identifiers.

My husband said Dave looks like a young Vladamir Putin.

a really bad idea

I saw this online at a catalog website: a comb shaped like a pistol. How dumb is that?

In this age where inexperienced or over-stimulated cops have been known to shoot someone accidentally because they thought they saw a gun, when in fact it was a cell phone or something or nothing in a suspect's hand, now is not the time to be waving red flags in front of proverbial bulls.

Yes, most cops will realize this is not a gun and not over-react, but how do you know if you're being pursued by one of them? The one yelling at you to step out of the car or put your hands up could be one of the small percentage of cops who might mistake this for a firearm, particularly in dim light. That's not the time to be throwing caution to the wind.

All of the above aside, this does not look like an easy comb to use. When you're trying to run the tines through your hair, the fake trigger guard would dig into your scalp. No thanks.

intolerant people

I have little patience for overly religious zealots who are very in your face about their beliefs. I have known people who think they have a direct line to the supreme being and therefore 100 percent correct about all matters of faith.

The world is worse off because of people like this. ISIS is the most extreme example, but the political well-being of certain countries, including the US, is held hostage at times by people determined to shove their religious ideas down everybody's throat.

As Susan B. Anthony once said, "I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires."

The flip side to this proverbial coin are atheists who are like zealots in their contempt for anything religious. They mock and denigrate anyone with religious beliefs as hopelessly backwards and ignorant. Unless you're an atheist like they are, they treat you like a simple-minded moron.

I encountered an atheistic zealot yesterday who really annoyed me. This person was as obnoxious as the religious people who think you're dying to be converted. They have become the very type of people they condemn.

I think religion should be like politics. People should keep it to themselves around strangers and only bring it up when asked. It's one thing to share your passions with your friends and family, but it's quite something else when scattered about without invitation.

staying single versus mister wrong

I saw a woman's magazine on the newsstand yesterday with the blurb "why I'd rather marry Mr. Wrong than be on my own." Having once been in a long-term relationship with Mr. Very Wrong, I couldn't disagree more.

Arguably in 1750 or 1850 or even 1950, a woman was better off married than not. Those days, however, are long past. You don't need a husband to own property, run a business, or have a family. You can also have terrific sex without a husband.

A great husband is great, but a lousy husband is lousy. So why willingly opt for lousy just to share your bed with a dick?

Being married to a terrific man is the best of all possible worlds, but marriage just for marriage's sake is just an incredible mistake. It will make you miserable as well as everyone around you.

When I was deciding whether to marry my husband, I asked myself this simple question: do you look forward to spending the rest of your life with him? If the answer wasn't an emphatic yes, then the marriage question must be answered with an emphatic "no."

It's better not to marry than to marry badly. Otherwise, why deliberately plunge headfirst into heartache?

the female orgasm, illustrated

The Eros Blog had an interesting entry the other day featuring some artwork from 1949 by the mononymously named Tina where she attempted to illustrate the female orgasm. I think her picture makes the orgasm look a bit like stepping on the proverbial third rail while dropping LSD.

It's safe to say all women, just like all men, experience orgasms somewhat differently and we each have our own unique experience. I have some female friends who describe theirs in electric terms.

For me it's more expansive or volcanic. It's somewhat explosive but really more a feeling like I'm suddenly growing.

The closest analogy I can think of is like watching a popcorn kernel pop in slow motion: the kernel is a nice seed shape and then all of a sudden, pop, it's expanded into something different and bigger. My orgasm can feel overwhelming while it's happening, but once it's completed, I feel refresh and purged, my mind sharper and more relaxed.

I like the idea of a 1949 woman who was hip enough to be able to draw her own orgasm as a piece of artwork. We sometimes think of previous generations as sexually prudish, but obviously not everyone was that way. It would be interesting to travel back in time and meet some of those people.

I always had the sense that my grandfather was pretty wild and sexual in his younger days. But, he was Grandpa to me, so I really couldn't delve into that history too much.

the 80-year-old model

The French design house Céline is featuring legendary writer Joan Didion in their newest print ads for fashion and accessories. She's prominently seen at the start of a multi-page ad spread in the February 2015 issues of top magazines like Vogue and Vanity Fair.

Not surprisingly, the writer's appearance is causing something of a sensation in the arts and fashion media. I counted at least five different articles in The Guardian about Didion's photo. In all the media coverage I've seen, most are positive but some are not.

I think it's great they're featuring an 80-year-old woman in their ads. I love her work as a writer, but her laconic appearance in an ad is an interesting commentary on age, style, and beauty.

With that said, however, I think the photo that was chosen -- by her or Céline or both -- is not good. It was taken by Juergen Teller, a big name photographer in the fashion world at the moment. The blast flash looks awful, although I know that's very trendy right now. I don't think it does anyone justice but particularly not an older woman.

Also, the accessories chosen are not flattering. She has on huge dark glasses that fit poorly and make her appear like she's just come from the eye doctor. And the pendant around her neck is too big and heavy because it emphasizes her nonexistent bust.

Her hair also is not the best. It looks too dry and her rather big ears are jutting out on the side.

The picture makes it seem like Didion sat for all of two minutes and then wandered away from the shoot. This was the only shot they had, so they had to go with it.

This could have been done equally badly by over-grooming her and making her look ridiculous in too-stylish clothes and a silly pose. But I don't think it's too much to shoot someone in a natural but flattering way, no matter the age, with complementary lighting, styling, and accessories.

I'm curious to see if they use her image again and how. I can't see that this campaign will encourage other older famous women to make a modeling debut.

jesse pinkman, gameshow contestant

If you're a Breaking Bad fan, you'll enjoy this video, provided it's new to you. The clip is real and not a parody. He appeared on the longrunning game show The Price Is Right as a real contestant eight years before first appearing in Breaking Bad.

"The price is wrong, bitch."

the victorian condom

The Atlantic ran a very interesting short article recently about the Victorian condom. The piece made me glad I'm living in the 21st century.

Ye olde condom was made from sheep intestines and knotted at one end. The other end was laced so it could be tied around a man's junk.

I can see why men of the era used them, because they didn't want to pick an incurable (for the time) venereal disease or father children by women to whom they were not married.

For women, however, they don't sound like they would make for a pleasurable experience. It sounds like fucking a dude with a sandwich bag over his dick.

Still, that had to be better than being knocked up and made into a social outcast. And, men could also be carriers of the clap and the like.

I wonder what percentage of these were used by married couples? I'm guessing it was very small, given Victorian prudery.

hardcore car porn

I've noticed a curious smut sub-genre lately: hardcore porn staged in front of expensive exotic cars. It's like Hustler meets Auto Trend.

It might be eye-catching, but it's inherently silly. It's almost like porn made in a museum or art gallery or antique shop -- the backdrop has utterly nothing to do with what's going on in the foreground. It's not as if they're dogging in the car itself.

Given the staggering volume of porn that's churned out by the adult industry, one imagines they'll try anything different in an attempt to attract eyeballs. This auto porn is at least different, and they deserve credit for trying, but I don't think it succeeds. There's nothing particularly erotic about a garage.

does God have a penis?

A reader sent an email objecting to my piece yesterday mentioning God as being either male or female. IMHO, God's gender -- or lack thereof -- is irrelevant.

Now traditionally, God has been referred to as male. The Bible is full of references to "the Father" and "He." But the Bible was translated several times over, with some parts copied by hand from now-lost manuscripts. This was done by humans, likely all men, so that leaves plenty of room for error and copyist enhancements.

So I don't think the Bible is an unimpeachable reference on this. A supreme being surely is not like we mortal humans. I can't think that God goes to the bathroom. God doesn't have a zipper. I don't think God has a penis or a vagina, for that matter. God is omnipotent and androgynous.

Worrying about God's gender and whether God would be offended by worrying about the divine gender is a waste of time, in my opinion. I should think God would be much more concerned about our behavior towards others than whether we think He is a he or She is a she.

Fretting over this is as important, in my mind, as fretting over whether God is left or right handed. Or prefers chocolate ice cream over vanilla. Or channel surfs counting up or counting down.

I'm serious about this, by the way, in case any reader thinks I'm trying to be funny.

living to 150

While looking for something else, I happened on an article about a biomedical gerontologist who says that the first person to live to 150 is already alive. He also says that, within the next twenty-five years, scientists will find a way for people to live to age 1,000.

I like the idea of living to 150. I'm assuming someone who does will age at a slower rate than a "normal" person. Considering that "old age" is the last quarter or fifth of a person's life, that would mean you wouldn't become a senior citizen until you were in the 110-120 range.

I could handle that, but I see a downside, too. You would be an cranky old fart for longer. Living three-plus decades as an elderly person would be a bitch.

So that's why I wouldn't want to live to 1,000. That would mean being an old geezer for at least two centuries. That sounds horrible.

Some people will scream that such medical practices are "playing God." My answer to that is, if God doesn't want us to do this, why would he or she let us perfect the science?

stupid in love

Imagine the following scenario: It is the early 1980s. By chance, Sean sees Katie across the room in a New York city lunch place. It's love at first sight for both. He invites her to dinner at an expensive restaurant, which she accepts, and she sees him drop a lot of cash when they're dining.

Katie is a recent immigrant from Ireland. She left the old country because her dad and brothers were gangster types heavily involved in "the troubles." She realizes pretty quickly that Sean is involved in organized crime. She does not know, however, that his job includes whacking people on occasion for the mob.

After dinner, they go back to her place and have mad, passionate sex. They start dating thereafter and see each other constantly. It is true love. They move in together a few weeks into their relationship.

Without her directly asking but because of her, he decides to leave organized crime and lands a legitimate job as a carpenter's apprentice. Katie is elated about that, and the two start making serious plans about marriage and a family.

Then one day Sean's old organized crime pals pay him a visit. They say they respect his going legit. But they have one last job for him -- a hit. He refuses, insisting he's out of his old life. They tell him he has no choice -- either he does the hit or they'll kill Katie. Sean agrees to do the job.

A few days later while cleaning their apartment, Katie finds the gun Sean obtained to kill the mob's target. She's furious. She confronts him about the obvious -- that he's not truly out of the mob and will kill someone with the gun. He admits this is true.

So it boils down to this: Katie will break up with Sean unless he refuses to do the job. He cannot, but he does not tell her why. Even though both madly loves the other, Katie breaks up with Sean. He leaves and does the hit. End of their story.

This is all a subplot in a very good and long novel I'm currently reading. What made me so agitated about this story was the fact that Sean does not tell Katie why he has to kill. He doesn't tell her he's doing it to protect her. He's doing it out of love. (The guy he's been ordered to kill, by the way, is another mobster who has murdered people in his own right, so he's no choirboy.)

I understand why Sean doesn't tell her why he must kill -- he wants to spare her the guilt that she might feel. But this is where I disagree. Does he think the guilt will be more powerful than the anguish she'll endure in losing the man she loves? (Yes, I know this is about a fictional character, but many parallels could be found in real relationships.)

When it comes to love, I think you have to be very careful when "sparing" your lover the truth. I think honesty is paramount in almost every situation. The exceptions must be the rarest of the rare, and I don't think this is one of them.

If my husband told me that he had to kill some mobster to prevent our son from being killed, I think I would understand. I don't think I'd be plagued by guilt. I might even offer to be his driver.

a tattoo and the hangover of a lifetime

Nothing says "stupid mistake of a lifetime" quite like (a) a badly done tattoo of a pole dancer that is (b) slapped on your face. It's like double dumb.

Had this been on his leg or arm, he could hide it. But on his face, it's too big to erase medically without leaving very visible scars. And it can't be masked with a better tattoo done by an actual artist. Yes, makeup is a possibility, but like that would happen.

This looks like the last act of a drunken night that started in a strip club, progressed to a bunny ranch, and ended hours later in a tattoo parlor. In the hours in between, many bars were visited, much alcohol was consumed, and considerable weed was smoked. I have no way of knowing that for sure, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if that was the real story.

The zits and bad eyebrow shaving job, of course, complete the whole wonderful package. Now imagine a woman bringing him home to meet her family. Not.

genius

I saw this clip a while ago and am glad I stumbled on it again. Kevin Spacey is just brilliantly funny here. I love when a celebrity reveals something interesting about them and not just the usual blah blah blah you hear on talk shows. This short clip shows more of his acting genius than blab blab ever could.

shadowy porn

I wonder at times if some so-called professional porn is shot by people who think they just need to pick up a camera and take pictures of pussy and tits. Nah, thinking, planning, and artistry aren't required because, hey, the camera focuses itself, right? Well, an idiot-proof camera doesn't mean it cures the man taking the pictures of his idiocy.

This typical tits-and-ass set with 130 pictures is a good example. The woman is squinting in many of the shots, something that could easily be remedied by an assistant holding up a piece of cardboard out of camera to shield her eyes. It would be too small to create a shadow but would keep her from looking like she had an eye infection.

And speaking of shadows, the picture from the set seen below is a great example of a person with a camera who thinks he's a photographer. But he's not one because he's not using his brain. She's kneeling on one knee and has her leg propped up on a log, which throws her pussy into a shadow. It's not an artsy shadow; it's just a bad shadow allowed by an inept man with a camera who thinks he's a photographer. By simply having the model kneel on the opposite leg and mirroring the pose, the problem would be solved.

When I look at shit like this, I sometimes think I should study photography so I can do quality erotic shoots. Because it would not be hard to do better than this.

distracted dicking

Are you going to fuck or smoke? It's one or the other. Not both.

I dated a few smokers back in my single days, but no man ever tried to smoke when he was in bed with me, let alone while banging me. That would just not happen.

Yes, the picture below is art erotica, but men who smoke while fucking certainly do exist. I used to know a woman who was burned accidentally by a man who was smoking while he fucked her. I don't know why she didn't tell him to put it out when he lit up.

Sex is like praying or doing your taxes. You need to focus 100 percent on the task at hand and not let yourself be distracted by other activities.

the imitation game

My husband and I watched The Imitation Game last night on one of the DVD screeners sent by my movie industry friend in LA. It's always fun to view a movie at home when it is still only in theaters. The movie is a very new release here; it didn't open in Australia until last week.

Neither my husband or I were dying to see the film because the subject matter didn't sound all that exciting. I've also never been a big fan of the film's two leads, Benedict Cumberbatch and Keira Knightley. I've always found their acting a bit mannered and forced.

I'm happy to report I was very wrong about the movie. It's just terrific. The seemingly dull subject is made fascinating and gripping. As well, we both were very impressed with both Cumberbatch and Knightley's performances.

Other than one touching subplot that is somewhat left dangling, the movie is pretty close to flawless IMHO. Both the writer and the director will be worth watching in the future to see what they do next.

If you've been on the fence about seeing the movie, like my husband and I were, I urge you to see it. I expect you'll be pleasantly surprised. And Downton Abbey fans will be in for an extra treat because hunky Allen Leech does a nice job in a supporting role.

I predict lots of Oscar nominations for this one.

Nicolas Cage's decline

I was looking through the DVD offerings at our library recently and noticed Leaving Las Vegas, the dark drama for which Nicolas Cage won his Oscar. I thought to myself how it's too bad he doesn't make movies like that any more.

It's sad to see the sorry state his career has become. He made four movies in 2014, and every one was a critical stinkbomb and money loser.

I know he's had serious money and tax problems in recent years. He went through a phase when he was like a compulsive buyer of extremely expensive castles and estates, only to sell them a few years later for less than he paid for them, not to mention the ones that ended up in foreclosure.

One has to wonder if money is the root of his problems here. As he became more successful, he earned more and then spent more, as the same time incurring some whopping debts.

Considering busy actors spend so much time away from home making movies, why do they even need one mansion, let alone the eight multi-million-dollar mansions that Cage owned concurrently for a while? Even if you did nothing in your life except travel from house to house all year, you would only have enough time to spend six and a half weeks in each one of your homes.

It's an old cliche that money is the root of all misfortune, but sometimes it is true, too. Cage could have a career spanning another two or three more decades, but at the rate he's going, I have to wonder if he'll even be offered work in a few years.

is she naked or dressed?

If a woman wore this on the street, could she be prosecuted for being naked in public? Would it violate some indecency standards in certain jurisdictions? I can't see it ruffling too many feathers in more progressive American cities and even here in Australia.

As a mother with a toddler child, I don't think I have the nerve any longer to wear something like this while walking down the street. In my single days, yes, particularly if I could have my own naked picture printed on it.

I would definitely wear it to a party, however, particularly a snooty artsy one. I'd want to see if anyone commented about it and who.

This is a brilliant idea for a dress but it's apparently not in commercial production. This was made in a design class by some unidentified student.

goin' for a ride

I have kept a journal since I was fourteen. I don't write in it every day but almost every one. Because it is hand written, it now fills multiple volumes.

About half the entries are short, no more than a sentence or two or three about highlights of the day. The other times I write more detailed entries about something that has happened at that moment in my life or something I was thinking or planning.

On occasion, I read certain entries from key moments in my life. This is not for any particular epiphany but just to see what I was thinking at the time and to make the memory more vivid.

Yesterday I re-read the entries from right after I first met my husband, who at the time I had no idea I would marry. "Met a very sweet, quiet guy on a shoot today," I wrote. "Very good looking and really interesting, but lord is he scary huge. Muscles everywhere and well over six feet with granite shoulders. He is very into me, I can tell, and we made plans to meet up again. I've never been with a man that big -- it'd be like getting fucked by a cement mixer. I don't know if I dare try it."

Some days later, after doing the deed for the first time with the cement mixer, I wrote: "Very memorable sex with the behemoth. Good lord yes. Bigger is better. He's massive but very, very gentle. He flipped me around like a twig, but that's a very good thing. I'm definitely going on that ride again and soon."

Before the husband, I'd been with a few men who could do a standing fuck but not successfully for more than a few minutes. It's not easy for most men to hold up a woman while doing her and satisfying her at the same time. And, prior to my husband, most of the men I slept with were about average in build and height, so doing a standing fuck was usually too much for them.

Once you've been with a man who can do it very easily and for long periods of time, however, you know how much fun it can be. Gravity adds an excitement you don't get in a bed. And you don't want to give that up so easily.

I imagine with time my husband will no longer be able to do a standing fuck for a long time. I can't think he'll still be doing it at seventy. But there's always hope. And while he can, I will never tire of going along for the ride.

minimalist movie posters

A Spanish design studio created a series of movie posters using only paper, with no type, no words, and no pictures. Some of them are really clever.

This would be a fun idea for a party where every guest would have to bring his or her own poster concept. The design with the most correct votes would win a prize.

Check out the link for more of the posters. Can you guess the film being promoted below?

a terrific tattoo idea

Regular readers of this blog will know I don't have a high opinion of tattoos. But a Canadian tattoo artist has a business that I think is just brilliant: she tattoos burn victims' scars to make them disappear.

The process, called "para-medical tattooing," camouflages burn scars by tattooing them directly with ink that blends with natural skin tones. The touching part of the story is that the tattoo artist first did this on herself to cover her own serious burn scars.

This is just a terrific idea and I hope it really catches on. What a wonderful way to heal someone touched by tragedy.

winter book recommendation

I just finished reading Lush Life, American novelist Richard Price's most recent book. I think it's one of the best novels I've read in the past year. I've been wanting to read this for a while and had a bit of difficulty getting it here in Australia.

A successful feature film screenwriter in addition to being a novelist, Price is perhaps best known for writing the novel Clockers and a many episodes for the acclaimed television show The Wire. He has written eight published novels in the last forty years, so he's not massively prolific. Lush Life was published a few years ago and really has me looking forward to his new book, to be published next month.

Like all of his work, Lush Life fully demonstrates how Price has a pitch-perfect ear for urban dialog and gritty stories. With the possible exception of George Pelecanos, no one out there can touch Price in the way he captures the soul of an eastern city.

The book is somewhat downbeat and intense at times, not to mention a bit on the long side, but the subtle power and riveting characters are truly impressive and make it well worth a read. I particularly recommend it for anyone who has lived in or is familiar with New York City.

happy nude year

Happiest of 2015 to you and yours. May the new year bring you bountiful rewards of love, laughter, happiness, fulfillment, and much success in all your endeavors.

The erotic artwork was done circa 1900 by Pablo Picasso. The subjects are his artist friend Angel Fernández de Soto and an unidentified woman.

I particularly like how this gives us a glimpse of what uninhibited people were doing more than a century ago. Not everyone was a Victorian, notwithstanding we still have a few Victorians around today.