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Archive for the ‘movies’ Category

I haven’t seen most of Elizabeth Taylor’s movies, but in the favorites I have seen I adored her viciousness and commitment to performing with unflinching ugliness. How many women are willing to do that? How many are even given the opportunity?

Here’s the trailer to my absolute favorite of her films. I was fortunate enough to watch it without knowing what I was getting into except that it was based on a Carson McCullers novel, so if you have an opportunity and interest to do the same, just skip this preview, DON’T read the summary on IMDB, and indulge yourself in some hideous kinky asap.

Also taboo but in a more romantic way: The Sandpiper (it is so hot to see her and Richard Burton together in “an Adult Love Story”):

I know those movies are dated, but at the time were extremely provocative and more progressive than youths today might comprehend. I will always admire Elizabeth Taylor as someone willing to take bold social risks who cared for the humanity of broken characters in real life and in movies.

If you’ve never seen the movie Salmonberries you may not have heard of this FUCKING BEAUTIFUL song, so OH MY GOD — here you go:

Is it possible to watch that with a morsel of chick hormones and not be like, “PICK ME, KD — PICK ME!!! I WILL OPEN MY DOOR AND EVERYTHING ELSE GAHHHHHH-hahahaha-CRYING HYSTERICAL TEARS OF INFATUATED DESIRE!!!” ??

Anyway, if I remember correctly the film was incredible, too. Not in a high-production kind of way, but yeah. I miss the days of indie lesbian films. So compelling and awkward.

We went to Seattle on Tuesday for Delia to do a shoot for Shemale Strokers; it’s extremely rare for either of us to shoot for other people so that was a good experience to get us out of our bubble. It looks like next time we’ll shoot something as a couple for SuckMyTrannyCock and I’ll do a solo blowjob and cum-on-the-boobs thing for another site. I can’t remember the last time I had anyone’s cum on me besides Delia’s.

Are we going to start shooting a whole bunch of hardcore for other sites to make quick money? No. There aren’t many people to shoot for in the area and it’s not exactly the direction we want to go anyway for a number of different reasons. On the other hand, if we had more time for traveling and to pornify ourselves with lots of trips to the gym and enough people to work with that we felt comfortable with (for example, people who shoot with condoms) it would be a nice adventure to do that for a few months and get more exposure for ourselves (leading to more exposure for our sites). At the moment, that’s not the plan, though. Maybe in the next couple of years before we totally enter granny status in the porn world.

Part of me is happy to have not had a typical porn industry experience so far, but another part of me feels like we’d be missing out to not experience more of it. The whole testing vs. condoms is a whole other ball of wax, too. While I know most of the diseases that are passed around in porn aren’t the end of the world I’m pretty fucking happy to have made it to this point in my life without herpes, for example, and I’d like to keep it that way. Allow me to clarify: no one is banging down our doors to shoot hardcore, I’m just speaking hypothetically here. Also, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t have sex with someone who has herpes (I *have*) or that I think condoms should be mandatory in porn (I don’t), I’m just saying that my comfort level and goals aren’t conducive to jumping into a hardcore porn fuckfest any time soon. I think we both have too many boundaries and limits to get much work on top of me not being in my prime.

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We decided to get a room that night instead of driving all the way back home; one of the bridges we have to cross is having problems and closes for tests every day and all night, plus we haven’t had a night to ourselves off cam in a billion years so we even boarded our dog. It was bliss, and we really should get away for quiet private time on a regular basis AWAY from home; I love working at home for ourselves, but I totally miss the feeling of LEAVING work behind to drive home. We don’t have that and it gets really heavy to never really escape.

We even went to see a movie! Yes, we actually saw A Christmas Carol. I enjoyed it and am glad we saw it on the big screen. Jim Carrey channeled a WEE bit too much of Mr. Burns, but he’s my favorite so that’s fine.

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This weekend and the rest of the month we’re trying to shoot as much as we can for our sites here at home. We also got some stressful but potentially good news about our favorite spycam site to broadcast on which alleviates some of the nagging worries we’ve had over the years but means we have to invest some time and money that we really don’t have into it.

I know it’s all going to work out, though.

How?

I’m not exactly sure. I don’t need to know everything about tomorrow, today.

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I wanted to post a members-only update last night but it’s getting pressed out later and later because the things I keep getting ready to post have to be postponed for one reason or another, namely because I don’t have time to finish them properly. It may turn out that I wind up editing and posting something we’re shooting tonight or tomorrow.

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.

Normally I love fall, but it took so long for winter to go away this year that I’ve actually been apprehensive about letting go of the summer. Fortunately, we’ve had an extended Indian summer. Last week I *thought* it was over one night when I found myself craving heat, but this week it’s back. Sunny yesterday, sunny today . . . and clear for viewing the full moon last night and crone moon tonight.

It’s also been spider season with one lady in residence in our line of vision from bed in the corner of our sliding glass door:

Spider Lady & Half Moon

She’s been there every day and I know we should get rid of her big egg sac or we’ll have shitloads of spiders in our bedroom, but I haven’t been able to do that to her. I love seeing her there at least once a day and/or night. It doesn’t seem like the best place to have a web with us sliding the door open and closed and some of her anchors being attached to it. But I guess there’s no spot to weave a web that is completely invulnerable.

Lamp-lit spider on web.

Our dog’s much better after her trip to the vet’s. The x-rays didn’t show any arthritis but part of her spine had some degeneration, probably from aging in an area of past trauma which Delia thinks must have been from a time when she was a young dog and made a quick break out of the door of their house straight into the side of a moving car on a busy road, bounced off said car, then ran back inside never appearing any worse for the wear.

There have been times in the past nine months where Nico has seemed so old and uncomfortable and tired — and she IS old. Fourteen, I think. Everyone thinks she’s a puppy because she’s a runt of a husky and looks so young, up until recently when you see her walk, especially watching her from behind and her whole hind end just takes so much awkward effort to move. SOMETIMES. But if she’s excited? She’ll still bound and bounce and run around the house like crazy, even though, to me, her yips of excitement sound tinged with pain. I don’t think anything but the most debilitating pain can stop a husky from doing her husky things, so when we started noticing her having real problems has been at night when she can barely lie down and whimpers/cries like a squeaky wheel, circling around and around before painfully lowering herself down.

Anyway, the vet put her on prednisone, a steroid, which seems to be helping quite a bit. We took her on walks in the woods the past couple of days, which she loved even if she’s slowed down a lot since I met her and Delia seven years ago. Now her pace is really pleasant and companionable. She still runs ahead a little bit, but there are times when she actually walks right beside us, or takes breaks so she’s always close by.

Watching her yesterday on the trail looking so much better than she has in a couple of months I thought about how long it took for my dad to die and how unprepared I was for that. How there were so many times where I was impatient for it to happen already, for all of us to be put out of our misery of waiting, and then having days where he was present and I was so happy he was still around and it didn’t seem possible he was anywhere NEAR ready. At least, not nearly as ready as I recently had been. I feel that way a lot with Nico where I can’t help contemplating the convenience of her death one day when she seems uncomfortable, lethargic, and droopy-faced, then feeling overjoyed the next with how well she’s doing — how alert and happy she is, how it’s so not time yet — how YOUNG (for her age) she looks.

My ninth grade (and seventh grade) English teacher did something pretty fucking progressive and unheard-of for kids as young as we were in a public school: she taught us a section on Death and Dying. Practical planning stuff about funerals and wills, the Kubler Ross stages of grief, and of course literature like some story about a brave young man  with a brain tumor (title escapes me, but not the memory of how much I disliked that book) and one I’m forever grateful for being exposed to and having TAUGHT to me (not just read on my own), The Plague.

I remember all of us talking about what we wanted to happen to our bodies after we died and everyone laughing when I said I wanted to be dressed up like the Chiquita Banana Lady and thrown into the woods to rot and be scavenged by animals. Since then I’ve changed my mind, partly because I loved my dad’s funeral including seeing him all dressed up in his coffin that we picked out with special things tucked in to go with him, including stuffed animals that were ours, but that he kept after we outgrew them. I was shocked by how much I did not want his eyes to be plucked out for harvesting; I’d assumed he was ineligible for donating because of his glaucoma (which he was, but they weren’t aware of it so the question was posed to me anyway) and I was just totally unprepared by the topic even coming up even though of course we are all listed as organ donors, but MORE unprepared by how viscerally opposed I was to having his body — especially his eyes — taken out of him when I’d been looking into them MINUTES before that.

So. Aside from it being illegal to throw costumed dead women into the woods, I realize people have emotional, albeit irrational, attachments to the bodies of loved ones and I’ve even become attached the IDEA of my own dead body and perhaps want a more traditional type of ritual to accompany me to my final resting spot. Plus I’m extremely fond of coffins.

I asked Delia if she knows if people can come to our house to put Nico to sleep when the time comes so she can be at home and we can bury her. Delia said she’d prefer to take her to the vet’s. When I heard that I experienced another one of those irrational, emotional reactions (especially since Nico is really DELIA’S dog, not mine) of not being able to bear the thought of taking her to a place she’s afraid of and have to die there. I know it’s over fast, but having done that (thankfully only once and with a kitten we’d hardly had for any time at all) the drive there is just too fucking sad and crying your heart out in a clinic standing around in that sterile setting is just not the ideal to me. I am so glad my dad died in hospice where we got to hang out with his dead body for a few hours afterward (I probably wouldn’t have understood it before, but that is incredibly comforting and helpful, not to have to be seperated physically from each other right away), but obviously a seventy year old parent is pretty different from a fourteen year old pet.

We’re all smart enough to know that television and movies are inaccurate and unrealistic, but I personally never realized how much until my dad took years to die, and then again especially during the days and hours surrounding his actual death. I felt and still feel very unprepared for the process of death by aging and protracted illness. My mind is still boggled by the concept that all of us, if we are lucky, have to watch our parents die. I don’t feel like I was taught to expect that or how to process that even though I’ve probably been given more tools and experiences to deal with that than most post-baby-boom American kids have. I’d had friends who lost parents way too young and I knew it was devastating to them and in some cases they even talked about it a little, but not nearly enough to ever intimate exactly how huge that loss was. I and my dad were not too young, it wasn’t a tragedy, and it’s still hard and has taken SO LONG. I mean, it’s still not over for me. I’m still shocked by the revelation that death is never over or never not coming and that it’s VISIBLE and active for So. Many. Years. I’m trying to accept that with Nico . . . even to use her as practice and I am flummoxed at how ill-prepared I still am . . . how disbelieving, impatient, sad, and scared I am in spite of feeling that’s not really in my nature. I feel like I’m the kind of person who should be able to embrace aging-towards-death gracefully, with serenity instead of blubbering.

I don’t even know how my mom has handled the past thirteen years, seeing her own dad’s decline and death, living with and taking care of my dad/her ex-husband (they continued to have a fond and extremely helpful dysfunctional relationship even after his death), packing up the house she grew up in and moving her mom out of it and into first one home, then another, and now a third offering an even higher level of care. I really do not fucking know. I don’t think she really knows either, but I know it’s a lot harder for her than she’s gotten help for, and my distance from her doesn’t help. What I still idiotically fail to GRASP is how this is THIS LARGE a part of life. Because tv never taught me that and even though my family has always talked openly about these things and plans for when we die, I still can’t remember exactly what I’m supposed to do with my mom’s ashes and I still can’t believe that IF I AM *LUCKY*, I will live through many more loved ones’ deaths. I read so many young adult books about death — GOOD books about a girl whose dad was shot about a kid with Lou Gehrig’s disease about drug addicted kids . . . about pretty much every kind of unanticipated death you or someone you know could have but not so much about the deaths we all aspire to without any proper planning.

What is the life span of a spider? I have no clue. I am still trying to brace myself for the day this season when I look out the window and in the cracks around the sides and she’s not there and doesn’t come back.

From a video we shot awhile back but just posted recently:

I don’t do enough glasses porn so we shot that in part to try to remedy that. It’s a shame I don’t shoot more stuff while I’m wearing my spectacles since I have a really “sexy” strong prescription, if you’re into that sort of thing:

right eye = -6.75 -1.00 x 135
left eye = -4.00 -2.75 x 156

The third number is for my astigmatism.

I also did a creepy voice-over/roleplay with myself for that video AND Delia threw her back out shooting that POV (point of view), so I want to make sure it’s fully “appreciated” by nerd-lovers. Members can see it here. Non-members can join our sites to see it OR buy it on our clips4sale store (look for “Interview with a Nerd”).

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Speaking of nerds, we finally saw Star Trek last night. Aside from it being an amazing, must-see-on-the-big-screen event, it totally had a Father’s day theme AND there were only five other people in the theatre with us, and three of those people were mega-Trekkers. The dude looked exactly like “Sex”, the crazy guy whose mom brings him to try out for So You Think You Can Dance every season. Only this guy made really awesome geeked-out joy noises in response to the movie and made the experience even more pleasurable and authentic than it would have otherwise been. I mean, we totally geeked out but this nerd-monkey NOISE that he made just epitomized what Star Trek fans are all about. And even with that few people in the seats, I *still* managed to get some fucker putting his feet up on our row of seats and shaking the shit out of me so, as usual, I had to have words with someone. PEOPLE. I love and loathe the shit out of them.

I think the last movie was saw in the theatre before this was Twilight so we’re parched for big screen entertainment. I’d love to see Up and Terminator Salvation before it’s too late.

My birthday last week was filled with ding dongs and dildos and a deep sigh of gratitude that a few people treated me to a trip to the salon tomorrow to go back to being a blonde.

I sort of stretched out my own personal celebration, doing shows on my birthday proper, then attempting to watch an engrossing movie, selecting Changeling which was sort of a big fat mistake. YES, it was engrossing. In a horrible, harrowing, gut-wrenching way. And even though I knew I was being totally emotionally manipulated by the film industry, I couldn’t just TURN IT OFF the way I did with Titanic (you heard me — I shut that melodramatic motherfucker off and refused to watch it past halfway).

Changeling pretty much ruined our plan to go see The Reader the last night it was playing in town. Instead we opted for something a little more uplifting to balance out the trauma of Changeling: we moved the Playstation (a birthday present from years back) into the bedroom and played a snowboarding video game (SSX3) for hours. And ate ding dongs. Well, *I* ate ding dongs. Delia didn’t.

And then I threw the rest of the ding dongs away. Because a) my birthday was OVER, and b) I have a goal to lose 15 pounds by June 1st (or less if I’m satisfied/feel good before I get there; since I’ve already lost four since I made the goal, I only have 11 to go). I definitely don’t want to lose TOO much of this action:

I continued celebrating a couple days ago when I noticed our friend had a two-for-one print sale going on and since I hadn’t bought any of her art yet, I treated myself! It was affordable and made me happy.

But what I *really* wanted to do for my birthday was spend some more time reading Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy which is SO FUCKING AWESOME I set it aside because I seriously couldn’t stand for it to end knowing there would be a big gaping emptiness without having more of it to look forward to. So today? I went to the used bookstore and picked up the only two Auster paperbacks they had on the shelf (Oracle Night and The Brooklyn Follies). Now I can finish The NY Trilogy and still feel like there’s a reason to live.

I also looked for the second and third books in the Abhorsen series, but they only had Sabriel (which I finished months ago and want to hurry up and continue before I forget everything). I grabbed a couple other titles (ex. Codex) plus some appealing books in the “free box” (ex. The Tommyknockers) and guiltily made my way home with a satisfying stack of stories to chew on. Sometimes I leave the books I buy in the car or somewhere Delia won’t see them right away because I feel so bad about spending the money on them when I don’t even read most of them right away (if ever) and I refuse to GET RID of any of them unless they really suck total ass, so they’ll all be living with us forever.

The thing is, I need to have CHOICES. Because there are some moments on the toilet where I’m after a very specific kind of book to lull myself into a comfortable shit. Or the weather demands a certain genre. Or I’m emotionally craving a story that delivers total escapism. And fuck . . . when it only costs $25 to buy a big armful of pleasure, how wrong can it be? Plehhhhhhhszhoooooooor . . . is in the booooooooooks.

Maybe tomorrow after I endure the torture of getting my hair colored, I’ll continue celebrating my birthday with some Paul Auster and a sweet mug of Russian Caravan tea.

As a feminist and a sex positive person I probably should DESPISE Twilight, but I don’t. I read the book (and only the first one so far) because it takes place near here and I saw the movie because the previews made it look way better than the book . . . I felt compelled by curiosity, local interest, a desire to know more about a pop culture phenom, and because I TOTALLY WANTED TO.

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The book? Meh. It was entertaining, mildly annoying from a local’s perspective, and mind-boggling since I wouldn’t have STOOD for so many pages of overt chastity when I was a tween reader myself in the eighties. A sign of the conservative times, I guess; I am DAMN glad I grew up with Judy Blume’s Ralph-named penises and totally taboo rape scenes in Flowers in the Attic.

The movie? LOVED IT. I mean, I seriously fucking LOVED it. The previews drew me in because it looked dark and funny (there wasn’t a trace of self-aware humor in the book, so that was an improvement already) and I wanted to see the flying scenes. It was just an all-around great movie-theater movie — pretty, entertaining, moody . . . familiar.

Here’s the deal about Twilight: no matter how loathsome it may be from a political point of view, that movie (and the book for other people) delivers exactly what a lot of young women crave and feel romantically. It’s extremely exciting and beautiful and “sexy” in a vague, inexplicit, totally hysterically emotional way. Beautiful boy looks at beautiful girl and they are CONNECTED, locked together . . . anticipating . . . SOMETHING totally INTENSE!!!!

You can criticize that all you want, but when you do, you’re trashing the (natural) fantasies of lots and lots of young woman. When I watched that movie I really didn’t care what the implications were, I cared that it DELIVERED visions of something deeply desired by girls. After you finally kiss? Something very exciting happens, kind of like exploding into a flying spell into the sky!! Yeah, it’s fucking stupid, but that overwrought anticipation of something that gobbles you up entirely and transcends the mundane is part of most young women’s hormonal pre-teen/teenage experience. What’s next isn’t sex, it’s MAGIC!!

I had orgasms and the anticipation of sex on the brain a lot as a young woman and I *probably* wouldn’t have liked that movie as much then as I do now (my generation’s Twilight was Legend, which I thought was a enchanting for two minutes then a total fucking bore except for when Tim Curry as the devilish dark beasty was going to do whatever dirty things he was going to do to Mia Sara), but I still had to celebrate it for being pure fore-fore-foreplay and girly fantasy with pretty menacing shadows.

In general I’m becoming less and less tolerant of myself and other people making fun of what women want or theorizing that the politically incorrect, unempowering things women want are *entirely* constructed for us artificially. There is nothing fake about girls wanting to fly around on the back of a strong beautiful sparkly vampire boy’s back or to be a vampire and run-really-really-fast/fly themselves (I haven’t read the rest of the books so I don’t know if she eventually gets there or not, but clearly there are OTHER female characters who do).

I don’t know why it should make people cringe that girls want to immerse themselves in the fantasy of being in tragic love with such a creature or that the public version of this particular popular story is g-rated (except for the violence, of course — this IS America, after all). Personally? I watch a lot of porn but there were scenes in this movie that were five billion times more agonizingly erotic than anything XXX rated ever could hope to be. It was a brilliant fucking tease, and there’s nothing hotter than having no release. I don’t give a fuck about the stammering heroine and her shortcomings; she’s a blank slate and nobody else cares much about her either because it’s a fucking FANTASY. Do girls really need a fucking role model in every single fantasy they have or are they entitled to be thrilled and entertained and suspend contact with reality just like everyone else? I also *almost* don’t care about the scariness of fantasizing about a creepy stalker boyfriend who sneaks into your room at night and stares at you while you sleep; yes, it’s totally gross and weird and dangerous. But a lot of us have had that same exact unrealistic fantasy and it made us feel good (in more ways than one). That? It’s human nature. And I’m sick of women being shamed and cautioned into censoring their own fantasies because we’re apparently too stupid to distinguish between fantasy and reality. IT’S A STORY ABOUT VAMPIRES. Can we tell reality and consequences to fuck off for a little while?

If anyone wants to post relevant links like feminist critiques of Twilight, etc. feel free. I honestly have clicked off of just about all of them without giving them the time they probably deserve simply because I’m not in the mood for dissecting it, but I totally understand if other people are (and that my “arguments” are ill-informed and based totally on suspicions and raw emotion). One of the good ones I clicked off of made interesting observations regarding the popularity of abstinence-only sex “education” and Twilight. I don’t know why I’m just not in the mood to care a whole lot this time around (I was certainly pissed enough about The Girl with a Pearl Earring that I almost walked out of the theatre) unless it’s as I said above; that girls deserve to have their desires spoken to and to enjoy their daydreamy fantasies regardless of how unrealistic and bizarre and dangerous they might be. So yeah — *I’m* not very interested in getting into a discussion about it in comments, but I totally understand why others might be so more info and other people’s perspectives and discussions are still welcome.

In first grade I was addicted to this story:

Every chance I got to go to the library and request that they set my friend and I up to listen to this, I WOULD. I remember it as an audio tape with a little paperback book hung in one of those baggies with plastic handles they had for mixed media, but now that my memory is jogged by this youtube video I wonder if it wasn’t a filmstrip because everything about this seems so familiar, but it’s probably just the narration and images, not the motion:

Anyway, I loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it and listened to it OVER and OVER again. I’ve always loved stories that take place at night, were dark, involved sleeping, criminals, loners, outsiders . . . dark escapism that’s sweetly menacing. It’s weird to look back on it now and see more adult elements in it and to read this New York Times review of the book and the author and the challenge of creating both art for children and erotica for adults. I’m glad I was exposed to The Three Robbers in the seventies in public school because I’ll bet that book would never see the light of day without a public lynching of the guy if it were to come out today. Nowadays you must either be 100% child-and-work-safe or resign yourself to being considered a 100% evil boundary-rapist. Take your pick. The only way people can fly under the radar is to be unsuccessful or too artistic for the general population to acknowledge you, and I’m sure this reissue of his out-of-print books is one of those things that will only be noticed by existing fans like myself.

I wish I had a magical blunderbuss to blow that bullshit right out of people’s assheads. But for now I’m going to add The Three Robbers to my wishlist so I can read it to my nephew(s — another’s on the way). WITH SOUND EFFECTS!