Salty Sidetrack

Have been very pleasantly sidetracked

  • familiarizing myself with an awesome new design tool
    • will help with all the site (re)design(s) we need to do
      • helps with style consistency / strengthens branding
  • starting lithium
    • on the level/dosage of a nutritional supplement
      • bought at food coop
    • NOT the prescription kind
      • only $6.99 for 60 capsules
    • WOW – it’s fucking awesome!
      • don’t worry; doctor recommended, and researched 


lithium orotate nutritional supplement

It is such a relief and MIRACLE to have a cheap easy fast safe healthy way to make the inside of my brain quiet and not fucking hurt or be scary. It’s amazing.


Pause for Learning

Doing the same thing for a decade in your small business can be pretty fucking awesome. Addictively so; once you get used to a routine and certain tools you rely on them and only needing a certain amount of time to produce something to the point where you don’t want to change or improve (or can’t without shutting down for awhile) because THAT WILL TAKE TOO LONG. Changing, learning something new, making improvements . . . those things take time and cost money and require you to use your brain in different ways and mean you’re not doing something else (usually the things that customers recognize and value and directly result in making money).

Having efficient routines is great, and producing consistent results is nice for everybody, but not changing or learning or improving actually sucks. For many years we’ve used Photoshop, Arles gallery builder, Dreamweaver and WinZip to edit and deliver huge galleries of photos to our members, and create promotional galleries and images. But a bunch of our old machines died (if they hadn’t I would have kept making them work even though we really have needed to upgrade them) and we lost our old software or just didn’t want to install super old software on our new machines when it’s high time we started doing things differently. By using Lightroom, for example, to catalog and process our photos and galleries.

We have SHIT TONS of photos, many of them with multiple very specific elements of interest, fetish appeal, audience appropriateness, etc. It’s very difficult to organize all of those images — our ASSETS — so they’re easy to find and rebrand or use as advertisements or just re-release them as standards change to allow for bigger and better presentations.

Storing our assets, organizing them and backing them up are huge jobs, and I’ve heard that Lightroom is a great tool to work with images so they only need to be stored in one place but you can apply different edits to the same image, export them in a variety of ways, TAG them (and we have a lot of keywords that should be applied in any gallery we shoot), create collections (like all of the non-nude white panty pics that are four or five stars shot outside where I’m wearing glasses, just as an imaginary example, or all of my aereola macros or upskirts with no panties or what the fuck ever) and export them in a bunch of different ways.

It’s hilarious listening to civilian photographers referring to their catalog of 16,000 photos as though that’s a huge number. HILARIOUS!!!! And speaking of needing to tag and categorize tons of content, this blog is so very many years overdue for that kind of treatment. I wish we could hire a professional indexer. One who is finely attuned to and knowledgeable of fetish, and who is a fan.

Anyway . . . I have to take time to learn new things and develop new systems. And it drives me fucking batshit. Watching tutorials and listening to some fucking wedding photographer explain why he’s not flagging/picking a picture of the loving couple because “uhhhh . . . that’s basically just a picture of their butts . . . we don’t want that” drives me insane, but since everything is a video these days you can’t just skim the content and get the couple of gems of information you need, you have to actually watch entire painstaking processes happen in real time, narrated by someone talking SUPER SLOWLY sometimes, or saying dumb things about people’s butts (it was a really cute picture that included their cute butts!!! Why would you reject that?!?!? Which must be why I’m a romantic pornographer, because “awwwww . . . look how in love their butts are!”). And while I suffer through that and see how very little I’ve actually accomplished after hours of this shit, I start questioning whether anything I do has meaning and get super depressed and hopeless and . . . yeah. At least I’m not the one reading this boring blog entry, though. NO I AM WRITING IT. What an accomplishment. Yay.

I promise before I shoot myself in the head, I will just take some drugs and go to sleep for awhile instead. Oh wait . . . I just had a really satisfying bowel movement, which makes me feel so much more accomplished and happier than watching tutorials and slogging very slowly through processes that will probably make ABSOLUTELY NO NOTICEABLE DIFFERENCE TO OUR MEMBERS but somehow this is what I need to do fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Too many things. TOO MANY THINGS!!!! And too few of them are actually HAVING SEX or JUST LOOKING VERY SEXY IN A WARM AND WELL-APPOINTED ROOM.

It’s times like this where I remember how awesome it was to work for somebody / not be self-employed and just be looking askance at co-workers bitching about having to take time out of regular work in order to learn to use some new software some hack made that may or may not make our jobs easier, and how fun those days would be, and how smart I would feel mastering something new and not having to pay any of the consequences of it being totally worthless or counterproductive. Working for yourself means you have to be the boss making those decisions and the manager and the trainer and the bitchy and/or stupid and/or impatient employee and the coach-y teambuilder keeping everybody positive I HATE BEING MY OWN COACHY TEAMBUILDER. Maybe I should try doing this boring multiple-personality work high.

Crazy & Happy

crazy happy late summer Trixie

I no longer have to worry that I’m going crazy*, or going to go crazy.

I know for sure that I *am* crazy. And I always have been. And I’ve survived and picked up a lot of tools and knowledge along the way. AND I CAN KEEP GETTING BETTER. Without struggling SO HARD. Without being so hard on myself. And on other people, without meaning or wanting to.

My Seroquel Prescription

helping me to “think more clearly and positively about myself, feel less nervous, and take a more active part in everyday life”. AMONG A GREAT MANY OTHER (GREAT) THINGS

It’s not just the medicine that’s making me feel better about myself; it’s just helping put things in a more sane, rational, realistic perspective. A lot of things are coming together to help me remember and celebrate who I am and what I have to offer and who I want to be and what I want to and can do and am good at.

Which doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention to how shitty I’ve done with a lot of that stuff (example: I suck) or not seeing how much better I can do. Now I just feel more hopeful about my ability to behave in ways that are in line with my values. I’m just fucking glad I haven’t done shittier and more terrible things over the years or more often to people I love. And even people I don’t love or even like.

late summer blue skies

*re: the word “crazy”: I know a lot of people who struggle with depression and other mental illnesses (understandably) do not like being called “crazy”. I personally feel like it’s an appropriate and useful word for some of my behavior some of the time, and the thought processes (or total LACK of thought processing) behind some of those behaviors. I don’t think I’m crazier than a lot of people who think they are totally normal and who are accepted as totally normal, and think a lot of my behavior is EXCELLENT relative to lots of normal non-crazy folks. Feel free to leave comments offering other perspectives on this for people to read, though, and I am open to being schooled on this.

A Good Gentle Rainy Day

It’s been a nicely-busy day with splashes of profoundly-awesome.

Fir tree trunk at sunset in Trixie's backyard.

I love trees & pink skies!

I’ve been taking anti-depressants for the past few days. Maybe they’re working.

Tasty Trixie on anti-depressants

My mood! It’s stable! I SWEAR!!!

Everything is in draft mode.

Sunset reflected in shack window.

Reflection of sunset

People are helping me, and I am helping people. It’s pretty fucking cool.

My wife knows me really well, and what I need. And then . . . it happens.

Have you ever gotten exactly what you needed without knowing exactly what it was or how to ask for it?

Black & Grey

Bespectacled Trixie displays hairy slit

I’ve been feeling a little regretful about renewing the lease on our Seattle apartment, thinking we could have our separate work spaces closer together here in town for a lower price. Spending this much time alone isn’t turning out to be as magical and productive for me as I imagined it could be.

Then again, I’m dealing with a number of issues. Like today I may have a hangover from a buzzy manic spell & adrenaline rush yesterday. The good news is I finally have a real appointment with a mental health professional for next week, which is a huge step in the right direction.

When asked if I have a preference for a male or female doctor, it was really hard to not say “male”. But I bit my tongue and just said, “no” (but that I’d prefer somebody who is sex positive and progressive). I’m pretty apprehensive about talking to women because I think they’re more judgmental of people like me. And feeling (mis)judged could seriously exacerbate my problems right now.

So I’m scheduled to see a woman next week. I think she was probably just the doc with the earliest available appointment.

It’s okay, though. I have no real reason to be prejudiced against her and am just going to expect the best. And if it isn’t the best, I’ll be one step closer to finding someone better, and may still get some of the help/relief I need regardless. She’s from Michigan (so’s my wife, and I actually tend to love people from those parts of the country) and looks really nice in her picture, which of course is a fucked-up way to judge somebody but is making it easier for me to write pleasant stories in my head about how well we’ll get along and how understanding and kind and helpful and patient and smart and tolerant she’ll be.

She has a ministerial Lutheran look, which, in my book, is a good thing that puts me at ease.

Tired Puffy Depressed Face

topless trixie after crying all night

I’m not sure why it’s taken me this many years to figure out that if I do have a type, that type is DEPRESSED.

Almost all of the people I’ve been romantically involved with have been people who’ve struggled with significant depression.

I could sit here and try to analyze why this is / has been, but maybe the most important thing for me to recognize right now is that THIS PROBABLY DOES NOT HELP ME WITH MY OWN DEPRESSION –and– I AM NOT HELPING THEM WITH THEIRS / may very well be making theirs worse.

Actually I don’t really know if that’s entirely true. What I do know is that I feel really sad, tired and incompetent today. I’m disappointed in myself and my own behaviors and weaknesses. I don’t feel hopeful about finding a solution, but I know I should continue to seek help. But not try to find it in (or expect healthy solace from) new (or old) relationships.

Personally at this point in my life I think the best thing I can do is focus on more things I can be (or already am) good at. And romance doesn’t seem to be one of those things I excel at, or make other people feel excellent at.

For one thing, if I don’t feel awesome about my work performance, I don’t feel really awesome about myself at all, and from there it’s just a downhill fast-growing shitball of low self-esteem for me. I really want my extra-marital romances to enhance and inspire and feed my work, but mostly what happens may be that I get consumed by and exhausted in my own obsessive love vortex of deprivation and drama that distracts me from productively working and puts a lot of stressful pressure on the people I love.

Or maybe I just didn’t get enough exercise over the past week. And stuff. Or maybe I’m just still learning, and that’s okay.


I wasn’t surprised to read about Robin Williams’ passing (long after putting this post in draft mode, so that’s not why I felt depressed earlier today). Just surprised by how many people are “stunned” and “shocked”. I felt a kind of grim relief for him knowing that what must have been an exhaustingly hard and crazy daily existence is finally over. When I read people online responding to his suicide with well-intentioned pleas to reach out for help if you feel that way, it comes across (to me) as really insulting to him as a person and dismissive of huge parts of his legacy. And clueless about what that kind of depression feels like.


After I wrote that stuff up there / way later tonight: I feel way better. People are nice to me, and I probably don’t suck THAT hard at romance and work and being nice and stuff. After all, I *have* been known to perform pretty sweet romantic rimjobs! But only on people I think are really REALLY special. 😉

I am lucky. And I hope all of you are, too. Even LUCKIER!!

And if you feel like killing yourself, I will not be one of the people thinking condescending judgmental thoughts about you. Unless you do it in front of your kids, and then I will think that part was a pretty shitty asshole thing to do. But I still won’t think I’m better than you. Just luckier.

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