TastyTrixie.com

Archive for the ‘ethics’ Category

After so so much talking, we parked under the trees with him still not knowing what was going on.

I asked him about music and he showed me a cd folder filled with things he’d gotten for free or found because he has no money and he gave away everything he owned. I picked out a disc with music I had on vinyl as a kid and loved in the seventies: the Clockwork Orange-y Disney Electrical Parade music.

He put the disc in to play and noticed everything was weird, and we were parked and “it seemed like we should be making out.”

Then I said, “well actually . . . ”

And then BLAH BLAH BLAH consent talk consent then I was on him and we were kissing and groping and grinding and the next 90 minutes were awesome and surreal, and not just because of this music which played the whole entire time:

It really made hearing a guy talking about fucking me so deep I’d feel it in my ribs / throat / skull even more fantastically absurd and mind-altered than it usually is. And by “usual” I mean that I usually only hear that in phone sex or camshows. Maybe I’ve heard it in real life once or twice? Not sure.

The next day he asked me if I liked that particular line of dirty talking. He said it was a girl who told him to talk like that once, because “it’s just so visceral“. I just told him that I do love hearing dirty talk.

I’m sure I will never ever again use that music as a sex tape, but just this once it made it an extra-magical event.

*****

For three days in a row he told me he really only wants to have sex in a relationship, and since we can’t have (his kind of) a relationship, I guess we can’t fuck or something?

The trouble is that when he says he wants to be friends, he REALLY REALLY MEANS IT. He says he has to think about what this is/I am doing FOR him, versus what I am doing TO him.

I guess I’ve now officially entered the realm of predatorial cougarhood.

*****

So I talked to (let’s call him) my spiritual advisor about this situation. My spiritual advisor told me there is a rule (number 13!) in our fellowship not to fuck certain people, and this particular guy is certain people. So I should not fuck him.

My spiritual advisor also told me “HE IS NOT A MACHINE, TRIXIE!” And the guy has complained over and over about being objectified. Which I guess somehow made me objectify him more? I don’t know. I thought I was being really loving and sensitive about it.

I knew this might be messy, but I didn’t plan on it being so confusing for me.

I’m so torn between not wanting to be a horrible person and REALLY WANTING THE COCK. And the kissing. And to get him to make porn with me.

And a tonic to ease my fear of death, as my spiritual advisor also pointed out.

I’m almost forty, you know.

*****

More trippy music, this time with 80’s strippers, thanks to Kat:

I know this is probably a bizarre thing to post on my site, but I just found this short NPR interview with my psychiatrist:

* Psychiatrist explains why he speaks on behalf of drug makers

As you can tell by the review I posted here on RateMDs on 8/21/11, I think my doc is truly top notch so it’s weird to hear him portrayed in this sort of nefarious way. I admire that he stepped up and spoke openly about working for drug companies. He knows a fuck of a lot about drugs AND BRAINS – it’s truly amazing. I wish I could see him regularly.

Anyway, thought it would be bizarre and interesting for you to get to hear the voice of my psychiatrist.

I’ve also often wanted to share the website of my awesome in-town doc/general practitioner because he’s also super interesting and awesome, but I don’t want people in town to google his name and wind up here or for him and everyone at the office to see our porn sites (not a huge issue, but not the greatest idea, either). He has very specific, passionate, well-thought-out (and sometimes unusual) ideas about and approaches to health care, the pharmaceutical industry, being a doctor, etc. that are fascinating and informative, and make me feel really lucky to be his patient.

Professional ethics and ways people approach their work are interesting to me, and I like measuring customer appreciation, suspicion and criticism of other professionals against customer appreciation, suspicion, and criticism of sex workers.

I’m inspired by how much love and continued study my doctors put into their work and how much they are compelled to share insights and information with their patients and other people.

On my way to the cabin this morning, I almost hit a wee little fawn. It may actually have bounded into the side of my wheel but still been okay enough to bounce off and go away in a safer direction.

One block later I saw some crows feasting on a dead rabbit on the side of the road which made the idea of killing a deer less traumatic, even if a spotted baby. Especially when I think that it’s highly likely (or am I exaggerating?) I will someday hit an animal while driving. Better something small that won’t also kill or injure us upon impact, right?

I’m actually not even sure it’s the idea of killing an animal that bothers me. What I think I’m really anxious about is what I’m supposed to do afterward. Ideally the animal would obviously be dead and clearly not somebody’s pet so I could just leave. I mean, I *think* you can just leave or can you? I’m also not sure if it would be genuinely hard for me to put an animal out of its misery or if I’m just afraid someone will catch me doing it the wrong way. And what the fuck am I thinking I would do? Would I stomp on a baby deer’s head or what? I wouldn’t even know where to look in our vehicle for an implement to deliver a killing blow. What if I bashed in a baby deer’s head when all it had was broken legs and another person would have taken it to the wildlife rescue people to put four long skinny white casts on it? What if someone sees me walking away from something they think it’s wrong to walk away from? What if it turns out I don’t know the difference between right and wrong at all?

There are way too many deer in our town. What difference does it make in the grand scheme of life, anyway? Why do I spend time thinking about cradling deer heads in my lap while I watch the light go out of their dumb pretty brown eyes?

I know you’re supposed to call the cops to “dispatch” the animal, though. I don’t want to sit around with a hurt animal waiting for help, but I guess if it’s in town it wouldn’t take that long. But what if we’re in the middle of nowhere? What if we have no phone reception? What if I don’t have a phone at all? Do I pick it up and take it somewhere to be euthanized or doctored up if mendable? What if it’s too big to move or if it’s so broken up it’s all falling apart in chunks? Is that how I relieve it of its pain? By ripping it in two? Or is that the effort that brings the reality of the situation home? When is it worth it to be covered with an animal’s blood and guts? Would I tell somebody, “I’m sorry I left your pet on the side of the road but I’m allergic to cats and couldn’t pick it up to bring it home to you?”

Why do I waste time thinking about things? Why is my mind so occupied with fears?

Why don’t we have a gun in our car? Why don’t I have emergency numbers programmed into my phone? Why don’t I know the name of the road I’m on and the cross street and my location on the map?

*****

Last night on a longish drive home I  wondered out loud to Delia, “have we seen any owls this year?”

No.

Three minutes later an owl flew across the road in front of us into the trees. With her wings rowing through the air the headlights made a strobe effect because of the white of her body and under her wings compared to the darker on top.

I hope I never hit an owl. But for some reason I feel like I know exactly what the right things would be to do if that ever were to befall us.

Why don’t I always have a thick blanket with me to wrap around someone that’s hurt and scared so they won’t bite off my nose or scratch off my skin when I try to help them?

*****

Sometimes I think I’m really helpless and stupid and don’t have the answers to anything useful or important or the right tools for the job.

I don’t even know where the fuck I am.

*****

Someone we know died last night and in the interest of making “normal” conversation I forgot that her death is finally a good thing, and nobody needs or wants us to be sorry that her friends were with her as she left. I forgot that it would have been okay to smile with relief when our friend told me and to hug her with celebration instead of loss.

*****

Yesterday our friend showed us something really complex he’s been working really hard on for months. It’s a teaching tool to help people make better decisions under trying conditions to dispatch the enemy with as little collateral damage as possible. In the example they are trying to maintain freedom of movement on a key route.

This is a metaphor for the rest of it but a whole lot more than that, too.

I’m incorrectly paraphrasing our friend, but most people like us have no idea what most people like them go through and what they’re like, and maybe don’t even think of them as people in the same way they think of each other, which makes them pompous hypocrites.

I’m still learning a lot from yesterday and today and right now. I even just cried and I think it was good for me.

Now I’m just going to try to “do the next right thing” which is probably a lot easier (and definitely more useful) than fantasizing about things I’m afraid of and listing all of the things I DON’T know how to do or fix or heal or change or bury.

*A fat, bizzy bumblebee rode around with me in the dashboard & windshield area until I rolled my windows down all the way and she blew out. She had a big orange fuzz corset on.

*Our power bill has gotten smaller the past couple of months; I think I just paid the last really big one ($183). When I see the next bill it’s going to feel like SUMMER! Or maybe not, though . . . it’s been a coldish spring so far. I’m not with the folks complaining about the rain, though — I love it.

*Turkey Vultures! Delia explained to me how to quickly differentiate them from eagles and other raptors, etc. in flight – their wings are dihedral.

*Everyone’s talking about the apocalypse coming tomorrow, but it’s looked like that on the peninsula for years, getting worse and fucking worse with endless driving through clearcuts and “reforested” hellholes. It’s a sad, ugly wasteland of destruction and corporate grotesquery devoid of biodiversity.

A woman and her children watched her husband/their dad jump into a river and disappear when shitstain federal agents questioned them about their immigration status after the forest “service” caught them illegally harvesting sa1a1 & called the B0rder Patr0l. Hahaha . . . isn’t it HILARIOUS how selective we are about caring for natural resources?

Imagining myself dressed up in a giant green sa1a1 costume, like a 5′2″ walking bush of sa1a1 and following those assholes from the DHS around, harassing the shit out of them and publicly mocking them and all the moron racists who love living in a police state. I could make such a grand ass of a nuisance out of myself, crying out “donyou wanna check my papers? I’M AN ILLEGAL BUSH!!” Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me after that, though, since they aren’t reporting the names or even numbers of people they arrest, put into detention centers, DISAPPEAR, etc.

I know it’s not the right thing to say or the right way to say it, but DAMN I’m glad I’m white! Someday I’ll have to use this white privilege for something useful, though I will not go so far as to sacrifice myself by becoming a burning bush. But wouldn’t that make a great story?

*Speaking of great/bizarre stories, have you read about this planking fad that claimed at least one man’s life? I for one find the desire to become a stiff board (or an evergreen shrub!) extremely compelling. Unfortunately my core isn’t strong enough to pose for highly sought after (I assume they’re highly sought after, anyway) nude planking pics.

If the end IS nigh, it delights me to know this is how we’ll go out . . . planking! But for god’s sake, follow the fucking rules! I can’t abide a plank with a big shit-eating grin on its face:

When performing a Plank:

1/ You must always lay face down, ensuring your face remains expressionless for the duration of the Plank.
2/ Your legs must remain straight, and together with toes pointed.
3/ Your arms must be placed by your side, held straight and fingers pointed.
4/ You must make it known that you are Planking. Saying ‘I am Planking’ usually get this across. Sternly announcing it will ensure a good result.

-via official facebook planking page

*When we were at the beach we didn’t realize it was whale-watching time until someone told us the day we left that lots of gray whales had been seen. I felt a little pang of regret, but with the little amount of time we had left to scope out the ocean from behind a little veil of trees I actually felt more interested in watching the birds (and I’m not just talking about turkey vultures, either!).

An older couple at the table behind us worked on a crossword puzzle; the man knew the answers but couldn’t spell “Rihanna” or “Uhura“. He thought he could, though. But I heard him saying the letters and he was all wrong. Then I found out that I only thought I knew how to spell “mascarpone” so I guess we’re even.

Dear BarackObama.com: I’m physically revolted by your “meet the president backstage!“, Michelle wants you to “sign Barack’s birthday card“, etc. spam.

GROSS.

Seriously, he’s the PRESIDENT.

I voted for him, that doesn’t mean I’m a panty-throwing groupie or histrionic fangirl gluing glitter to homemade sparkly-heart cards I send to him weekly with my diary entries attached.

*****

I think I should raise my pay-to-play rate on cam. I’m one of a small handful of English-speaking American blondes with hairy cunts on that site and stay busy at the standard $3.99 / 4.99 a minute rates. My bush is a TREASURE. What say ye, camgirls and fans?

*****

Note: I know, I still need to edit and post that Obama dildo video for members from way-back-when in which I type out a letter to him before sticking his likeness inside my great wet hope. Here are some free picture samples from the gallery:

Blue State Trixie & her Obama Dildo

I think hemorrhoids are totally patriotic, don’t you? Like, fuckin ALL AMERICAN!!

Anyway, what I’m TRYING to say is that maybe I *am* a fangirl . . . just stop embarrassing me with those weird emails inviting me to go on tour with him (FOR A PRICE) or whatever! It’s such a fucked-up pimp-like thing to do to the man. But thank you for reminding me that even the most powerful (according to the myths) man in the world is the subject of degrading and misleading marketing campaigns even worse than the ones webwhores are featured in.

Speaking of that, why is my current fave camsite promoting a big porn paysite on their front page? The worst part is the big porn paysite they’re promoting is known far and wide within the internet porn world as being unethical and fucked up – one that good webmasters refuse to promote because they own(ed?) a bunch of tube sites filled with stolen/pirated content. Oh well. Just one of those little compromises we deal with (trust me, THIS particular one is TINY compared to other shit that goes down in the camworld). At least I don’t have my wife writing to everyone in the fucking country telling people to sing me happy birthday or whatever. I *hate* that song!

*****

P. S. I really am blonde and hairy — the Obama gallery is from many moons ago.

Once upon a time in the eighties I read a story in Cosmo about a woman who got stuck on a plane sitting next to a guy who whipped out a porn magazine in flight, putting her in a Very Uncomfortable Position.

There was a pretty good piece in The Washington Post about the same thing happening with porn on mobile devices (stupid WP makes you have a login to read, sorry). Normally most coverage of publicly-consumed porn is really biased and weird, but they did an okay job of it: TECHNOLOGY INCREASES CHANCES TO SEE PORN IN PUBLIC.

Listen. I will defend every adult’s right to buy porn, to make porn, and to think whatever taboo sexual thoughts they want, but when you shove it into someone else’s face, you’re sexually assaulting them. You are forcing them to engage in a sexual encounter with you and your fucking porn without their consent. Is it to the same degree as actually jacking off on them on a plane or frottaging(sp?) them on a train or taking your own dick out and shaking it at them? Of course not (and I totally understand FANTASIZING about doing all of those things or FANTASIZING about those things happening to you), but I personally would press charges against someone who did that next to me. It’s unacceptable.

Of course, I say these things having been resentful at times when I wanted to pull up a NSFW blog or my own site when we’ve been on the road and in internet cafes and had to limit myself or do a lot of alt+tabbing, but that’s a far cry from the guy in the story who started watching hardcore, audible porn with not only the woman right next to him, but HER KIDS, too. The thought of it honestly makes my blood boil and my imagination to immediately go to a place in my head where I’m kicking this man’s teeth in and beating him about the head with his fucking laptop.

The shocking part to me is how many people (let’s face it, mostly MEN) think they’re entitled to publicly entertain their dicks wherever and whenever they want. How can you POSSIBLY think that’s okay? AND WHY ARE THEY GETTING AWAY WITH IT? Frankly I think we’re all obligated to publicly humiliate (to an extent that goes beyond what some of them are probably after in the first place) and legally dog these idiots.

Is there a grey area where I’d be more forgiving? Yeah. I know sometimes when you’re rowdy with another person at dinner or something you might flash some pictures on your cell phone at your buddy and someone might see it from a distance, but when your bubble is touching a stranger’s bubble either physically or audibly, you just do NOT insert sex into said stranger’s bubble. If you’re many seats away from anybody and nobody can HEAR your porn, I think that’s less of a big deal. If you make a valiant effort to hide it when someone approaches, I think that’s okay. And personally I wouldn’t care if someone masturbated next to me on a plane as long as they didn’t expose themselves or touch me or make eye contact with me and they did their best to hide it.

I think that I’ve masturbated under a blanket on a plane just to relax so I don’t know . . . maybe I’m drawing my lines in very subjective ways. I know I’ve had conversations in restaurants that were really graphic, loud, and could easily have made people uncomfortable but I think I’ve never done that with kids around. I hope not, anyway. Plus, I *love* listening to other people have conversations like that. UNLESS it’s guys talking trash about women or anybody calling people names. I have been known to ream people out for that. But it’s still different to talk about a sexual encounter and have people overhear you than start HAVING a sexual encounter with your porn and force people near you to have it with you, whether you intend to or not. And when your loud conversation disparages and insults people it’s kind of the same thing; you’ve drawn total strangers into your bullshit in a hurtful way.

I’ve also been known to have very noisy sex in apartments and not been modest at all about closing curtains when I’m naked or fucking in my own home to the point where I’ve been chastised by property managers and I don’t think people should have to be quiet in the summer when they’re fucking with the windows open to let in cool air at night (god, I love that sound). But I still think that’s different — there are walls, even though they’re penetrable and rendered mostly symbolic, that symbolism is something every civilized person should be able to recognize that establishes distance and literally marks the boundaries of what’s inside and private and what’s out. It’s an entirely different thing, however, if you stand in your window or  your yard making eye contact with schoolgirls as you’re masturbating. That is ENGAGING people and forcing them to participate in your scene. NOT OKAY. Same with listening to loud extreme porn where a neighbor or passerby could hear the sounds of people in pain or engaging in kinky roleplays (I wish I could find the link to a story about someone calling the police on his neighbor because it sounded like he was raping/killing a woman when in actuality he was “just” watching violent porn for hours at high volume). On the other hand, I think it’s perfectly allright for people to masturbate in their cars on their lunch breaks or whatever, with or without porn, as long as they’re not standing up through their sunroof and ejaculating on their windshield or making whatever they’re doing and/or watching visible to people close by.

Then of course I have to admit I’ve exposed myself in public places, mostly for pictures but sometimes just for the pure fun of it. Again, I’m worried that I have a double standard even though I’m 99% *convinced* that when I’ve done it it was DIFFERENT . . . safe and wholesome even when sexually suggestive. Somehow I just don’t believe a nude Trixie is threatening or dangerous or harmful, and I especially don’t think anything is “assault” if you are in a park or something but attempting to be discreet and someone stumbles upon you. If you’re lurking in some bushes, though, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to come along so you can expose yourself to them, then THAT is fucked up. I have masturbated in a library, but I didn’t *want* to be caught, so that makes it okay, right? I mean, I would have been mortified if I’d gotten caught! But for some reason I feel perfectly content telling everyone about it, even my friends only an hour after the fact.

So what about the way I have explicit nudity and sometimes sex acts on the front page of some of my sites (like this blog) without a warning page? Is that just as bad? Of course, I still think that’s different. Is it just because it’s ME and what I want to do? I don’t think so. People who don’t want to see porn can block my sites and I have also added metatags to make it easy for my pages to be identified as adult. Also, I’m not SITTING DOWN next to strangers in public places and making them watch and listen to movies of me masturbating and fucking. Anyone who sees me online still has the control to close their browser.

Then again, I’ve taken my top off on a hot day when driving in heavy traffic. I still had my bra on, but I *so* wanted to take it off and felt very irritated that I could get in trouble for that. I still do. I don’t know how anyone could have a problem with rush hour boobs. Or rush hour masturbating. Just don’t LEER at people, you know?

*****

The whole time I’ve been writing this, comparing these different scenarios, I’ve been torn. I want to be honest with myself and challenge myself to think critically about whether or not my boundaries and judgments are consistent, correct and safe BUT I wonder if by doing that publicly, I’m letting everyone off the hook and confusing issues that are actually very clear.

I could mull this over all night, about how it’s different to shove sex in someone’s unwilling face in a confined space versus being off-trail in a state park giving a pal a handjob when someone stumbles upon you and you quickly try to cover up and the other people are easily able to turn around and go the other way. I could sit here and list all of the reasons why it’s BEYOND inconsiderate to make other people watch/listen to porn (and why it’s especially wrong, I’m afraid to admit [and simultaneously uncomfortable with my hesitation to boldly say], when a MAN does this to a WOMAN and/or kids).

*****

Confession: some of the phone sex calls I’ve taken and gotten off to hardest were from guys with this “problem”, or who at least fantasized about acting on those urges. Guys jerking off in their apartments watching the girls walk home from school in short skirts. Guys jacking off in the parking lot and exposing themselves to their coworkers and other ladies just trying to drive away. Guys sitting in internet cafes with hardons.  I mean, pretty much all of the stuff I get off to hardest is taboo stuff I’d never want to happen in real life.

So how do I feel (almost) completely comfortable saying that if I caught somebody doing these things in real life I’d kick in their teeth, BUT when someone confesses it to me on the phone I just coyly call them naughty, FEIGN shock and disgust, and furiously masturbate myself to orgasm?

I don’t think I’m (a big) part of the problem, but I know a lot of people would beg to differ.

*****

The Washington Post article kind of blows off this behavior as just “too much information” or “socially inappropriate” or shaped by our mobile device culture making people self-absorbed, inconsiderate shitholes (TRUE), but I still think it’s much more sinister and criminal than that in ways that the men MIGHT not get (or totally DO get and that’s part of the thrill). And fuck if I have the patience to explain it right now. Let me know if you want me to, though, and/or if you have some links to people who already have and/or if you want to take a stab at it yourself.

It boggles my mind how I can peck out this many words and still leave so many dangerous gaps.

Somebody (named Trev?) used a picture of my boobs to make an animation of them speaking lines from one of my favorite movies, G.I. Jane. My right boob is Demi Moore. My left boob is the commanding officer.

Thank you to TheAnonymousOne69 for tipping me off that this video exists. I don’t know why the fellow who made it can go to all that trouble of making my boobs talk but can’t spare the time to credit my boobs or the movie, but still . . . it’s certainly entertaining and somewhat flattering (which is sadly canceled out by the feeling of having my work and images of my body passed around without any credit going to me – I’m not one who needs people to beg for my permission for something like this or demands to be notified, all I ask is that the source — MY SITE/ME — is credited. Of course, I realize the guy who made it may not have known where it came from, but still, at some point, there is someone who knew who those boobs belong to and sent them out into the world without bothering to say they’re mine, perhaps the person who snagged that image from my site or someone after that — who knows; I don’t think people really understand how this feels unless they are naked on the internet or at least a photographer, writer, etc. who’s had their work “borrowed” without credit). Still, the video is much more fun than/not nearly as bad as the people who steal my pictures and use them to make ads on dating sites. Sigh.

The image is a still captured from the “Big League Boobs & Pee” videos in my members-only area that go along with this picture set of me in long socks, blowing bubbles:

My erect nipples under velour, pulling on long, thigh-high sock.

My natural boobs and thigh high socks.

Bumpy areola & wet gum.

I couldn’t resist looking at the beautiful man-body chopping wood next door so I did something I think (I thought?) is really, REALLY wrong: I took sneaky pictures of him without his knowledge or consent. And now I’m doing something even MORE wrong: I’m posting one of them here:

He’s not our neighbor, he just delivers and chops wood for our neighbor. And I HAVE to watch him do it, because the guy is incredibly beautiful. Not his face, just his whole old-fashioned working-man’s body with that wedge-hourglass shape. The thick pants with the shiny metal details, the gloves, the white tank top, the cap, the scraggly mullet and those pale muscles built up in the shade and from working outside when it’s raining, because it rains all the time where he works. He’s like an 80’s version of the guys in old propaganda posters like these:

I have always been in love with watching men do physical labor. Even though I felt sort of dreadful about it, I was compelled to run and get the camera. I stood in the kitchen and snapped a few pictures where he could have turned around and seen me. But before that happened, I ran into the bedroom and took pictures of him through the crack between two panels in our shoji screen so he couldn’t catch me watching him through the magnifying lens of our camera. My desire to capture his image forever outweighed the voice in my head reminding me I was doing something wrong. Something I’ve seen/heard of other people (men) doing that sickened me, but that memory didn’t stop me from doing it myself.

You shouldn’t spend time on fetish-oriented forums online if non-consensual voyeuristic photography (and other stuff) bothers you. You’ll find out things that you just don’t want to know and see things you weren’t meant to see. Like pictures of used maxi pads guys steal out of public restrooms or photos a foot fetishist surreptitiously took of his neighbor’s niece’s bare feet while their family unwittingly enjoyed a barbecue in their driveway. The woman was probably in her twenties and the guy who took and shared the pictures described his sneaky method for capturing them and the type of camera and settings he used and how he managed to not get caught.

The freaky part is the way these people usually don’t even acknowledge the line they’re crossing, or worse, act like they’re ENTITLED to snagging these things that belong to other people. Of course, half the time someone with common sense will challenge these people or point out the err of their ways, but most people don’t bother to post any opposition, instead just showing their appreciation for what the voyeur-thief has “created”/salvaged for the members of the board. Or they will critique the spoils, like the guy who complained that the neighbor chick with the bare feet was so fat, how in the world could the spy-photographer possibly think anyone would be interested in seeing her or be aroused by her himself? So not only is this woman with the arched foot and a BBQ rib in her mouth being displayed on the internet without her knowledge or consent, she’s ALSO having her weight criticized. AWESOME, right?

I pretend that I’m not quite as bad as these sociopaths because I know what I’m doing is wrong. But I guess that actually makes me worse because I know it’s wrong and I’m doing it anyway (and those guys on the forums might know it’s wrong too, they just don’t waste time making a big show of acting guilty about it the way I am in all of my gross hypocrisy).

I can pretend I’m conducting an experiment or research. That I’m a writer. That the end result of provoking thought about these important issues of privacy, consent, and all SORTS of interesting things is worth the negligible or nonexistent “damage” I’m doing. And after all, it’s a really REALLY grey area, right? I mean, how many people would even think me taking and posting the picture of the axe man is wrong if I didn’t tell you that *I* think it’s (maybe) wrong? And this isn’t really a blog entry about that guy, it’s about me or the collective us and the image is actually a snapshot of me — the voyeur — and my thoughts, not him. It’s entirely possible to intellectualize it that way. He could be anybody. You can’t see his face. No one will ever know who he is. Probably not, anyway.

And would he care if people DID know? Maybe he’d WANT to be credited and known far and wide as The Woodsman Who Got Trixie Hot. Of course, that brings me back to the obvious trespass of not asking for his permission to photograph him in the first place, but speaking of consequences, *I* certainly don’t want to pay them. I don’t want *him* to know he was chopping wood next to TASTYTRIXIE and therefore knows about our websites and where I live and can tell everyone how to find me (I’d have to tell him about our sites in order for him to give INFORMED consent, though that disclosure would be out of ethical, not legal obligation; you don’t have to specify where or when something will published on a consent form, just that you as the photographer have all rights to the photos which legally you don’t REALLY need to do anyway since in our country the photographer automatically owns the photos, not the model). I don’t want to tell a big strong stranger with an axe and a cock that he gives me a boner and I want to take pictures of him — LOTS of pictures. Well, I do sort of want to tell him that, but I know it’s not such a good idea/could cause problems. He might be weird or scary or even if he isn’t, then our neighbor (a decent neighbor, not our scary neighbor) would know about us and that would make everyone on the block uncomfortable. Most of all us.

If it were my actual neighbor out there making me hot chopping wood, I wouldn’t have taken the pictures. Because that would be violating the good neighbor code of pretending each other doesn’t exist. And I certainly wouldn’t take pictures of his young daughter! Even if it were to record how she trespasses on OUR property, walking just three feet past me sitting in our window. Well, maybe I would (for proof of trespass only!), but I wouldn’t post them on the internet. But maybe only because I’m a pornographer and could get in trouble for it just by virtue of that fact.

When I pondered these things aloud to Delia, she doubted my assertion that if it were a woman out there, hanging laundry or washing a car, I totally wouldn’t have taken the pictures. She’s probably right. After all, I took this picture (without her knowledge/consent) of a hot redhead fishing because she had a really great ass:

It’s the kind of picture you can get away with taking in public and even sell prints of in local galleries that don’t have any artistic standards. It’s the kind of picture no one (except other wankers) would bat an eye at as long as you keep up the appearance of it being completely innocent. Even though I know that I took it purely out of sexual/sensual interest. And I know that any straight man with a camera would have taken it for exactly the same reason (or to prove to himself that he wasn’t) whether he would admit it or not, and there are tens of thousands of men with cameras with hobbies or professions doing exactly that. I know a lot of people who take completely g-rated innocent-loo
king pictures and jack off to them later even if they didn’t intend to when they snapped them.

Part of me feels justified in posting this because there are so many writers and artists and reporters and network television stations getting away with doing so much worse with absolutely no compunction. It’s only people like me who openly call ourselves pornographers who are recognized for exploiting and objectifying others even though we play be much stricter rules and are faced with much harsher penalties for violating them than any other industry would be. But that train of thought is just another diversion from asking myself how *I* would feel if my neighbor were peeping through a crack in the blinds taking pictures of ME doing yardwork or thinking he’s not home when I sunbathe naked on our deck when actually he’s hidden behind a tree and rubbing his crotch against its bark. Of course, I’d feel totally different about it if I had a teenage son or daughter being spied on. But the guy chopping wood is clearly an adult. And he wasn’t sunbathing naked. And again, I don’t think I’d care if my neighbor secretly stood in his kitchen taking pictures of me as I walk around OUR kitchen at night topless (which I do sometimes with the blinds open, not because I’m an exhibitionist but because I just don’t care) as long as he didn’t hang them in the post office with our address printed on them or something.

Meh. Now that I think about it, I really don’t care. As long as someone stays on their own property (not sneaking onto mine or a stranger actually stalking into the neighborhood to spy on us or putting on an obscene display of masturbating and shooting cum into our yard) and is only taking pictures of what I do outside or with the windows open then who cares. It’s kind of fucked up, but not a huge deal. It’s not like I’m lying in wait every day, conducting surveillance on everything that our neighbors and their visitors do.

After completely overthinking this, I absolve myself from guilt. It’s harmless and legal. But I guess if I give myself permission to be an opportunistic voyeur-perv-photographer that means I have to stop being shocked and offended by other people who do the same thing. I’m reluctant to do that.

Here’s a couple with a sleeping bag and no picnic basket that I shot entirely because I knew they were setting out to lie down together and *do things*:

If I hadn’t admitted that and had posted the picture somewhere else, like on a stock photo site using woman-approved keywords like “young love” and “spring romance” (and cropped out our cracked windshield & wipers giving away that I’m like a dirty old man doing a drive-by) it would probably be perceived in a totally different way. It would just be a bad snapshot. But because of who I am and what my site is and my confession that I’m a voyeuristic pervert who sees sexual potential everywhere, it seems more DIRTY and exploitative than it really is. What if a local television station were doing one of those weather “stories” about how people were still going to the beach even though it’s overcast, and those two lovebirds were in the background? Would the station be committing an evil deed? If not, why does it seem so evil when I do it and admit that I see erotic potential? And why would it seem so much grosser and more evil if I were a man instead of a woman?

Bah.

Speaking of double standards and being a horny woman, check out this post by Goddess Glory where she describes her friend getting mad at her for drooling over a waitress’s ass at dinner:

“. . . my mind was completely focused on fantasizing bout our waitress’ beautifully ginormous ass sitting on my face, cutting off my air supply.”