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A nude demonstration this morning under a grey sky of the fun I had yesterday under a blue sky:

I did some clean-up in the yard, like cutting down and pulling out blackberry and blackcap vines. I was surprised how sore my muscles got from this activity; my arms and shoulder and chest feel like I got in a real workout, partly because of the stretching up high and far away and deep down, but probably mostly because our loppers are rusty as are most of our garden tools. Neither this house nor the last one we lived in has a garage or much storage space and we haven’t wasted money on one of those plastic yard closets or storage lockers, so after years of being wrapped in tarps outside or just left out, they’re pretty fucked up. We can still use them, but it’s harder. Hence the extra-sore muscles. I’m not complaining though because it’s fun free exercise.

I actually feel kind of bad about cutting down so much of the blackcaps – they’re yummy, they attract birds, they’re not as invasive as the blackberries – but they distract from the other plants and we’re trying to prepare to use the yard as much as possible for shooting. And they reach out and grab your ankles and pants when you’re just trying to walk by them.

They don’t seem to make protective leather work gloves in a size small enough for my hands, so I often use the loppers to hold onto the vines and try to pull them out and move them to the discard pile. I still managed to scratch my face with thorns, though.

I also did some other stuff around the yard, like picking up limbs and debris that blew off trees during our stormy weather. I piled some of the branches up in places where I want the grass to die down.

I also stepped in one of the neighbor’s dog’s shit piles IN OUR YARD. RIGHT ON MY FUCKING PATH!!

I thought I’d located (and photographed) all of them after I made a tiny misstep, but then I wound up with a total stinky shoe-ruiner, like a wet cheap-dog-food messy pile my foot found that squished up on the side of my shoe and almost got into my velcro!

Yes, I have shoes that utilize velcro!

I decided to not be TOO mad about it, as it provided me relief that this neighbor and I are now fully fucking EVEN if she was bothered by me not-on-purpose flashing her or by all of the noisy sex H. Rugaru and I had when he was here. Okay, I was still “too” mad about it, as I scowled for at least forty-five minutes and even crossed the street to make a bizarre display of myself trying to wipe my shoe off, publicly swearing and muttering. Made even more bizarre by the fact that nobody else was actually outside to witness me sliding and stomping and dragging my contaminated limb around.

As long as we live in a society where polluting groundwater and other people’s private property with feces is viewed as friendly and the best way to show our love of animals, I’m going to feel free to grunt and moan and holler in the middle of the night and run around naked like a bozo during the day. SO THERE!

Also! If the reward for adulthood is having to tie and untie and tie and untie shoelaces, then we simply don’t deserve technology!!

Still wearing the same coat and sweatpants as last year (and years before), but with a vibrant emoticon!

Ahhhh, but here’s a nicer message:

Some more pics from our walk & stuff:

Wild rose bushes in winter.

Thorns, black stars & vitamin C.

Snowy evergreens & deep untrodden snow.

Delia snapping pics of fir cones with her phone.

The cabin, as seen from inside the house this morning:

The cabin, trimmed in snow & icicles.

I’m snug inside there right now, as a matter of fact.

I have problems. I just don’t see things in front of me before I ram my head into them. Tonight wasn’t the first time. It’s hilarious to walk around with bruises on your head (and shoulders – I often run my body half into door frames; I guess they just don’t make the door-holes big enough for me) but it makes me feel really stupid.

To make myself feel better I ate over half a pound of ground beef in the form of tacos that Delia made (so yes – 4 flour tortillas . . . plus tomatoes and cabbage, but that doesn’t count as crazy). I’ve been comforting myself with food a lot these days/again which is fucking my brain up more.

Then I got so so so sleepy that I couldn’t keep my eyes open to finish watching [insert shameful reality show name here] and begged Delia to come up into the cabin loft to read and watch over me while I napped/to wake me up later “in case I have a concussion”. She humored me and it felt SO GOOD to have the light on and her next to me awake. Sometimes that’s the best feeling in the world to me, to be safely with Delia while she watches tv or reads and I pass out knowing everything’s okay and I’m totally taken care of feeling her right next to me.

Agghh, my stupid aching head!

This here shelf is really fucking hard. I’m surprised my forehead didn’t split open. I want to blame it on my short height that I sometimes don’t see these things before impact. Yes, I was reaching down below for the Charmin Ultra Strong, because you know it’s THE BEST even though I think it might be too abrasive for my peehole area.

Watch your head, dumbass! Ultra-strong, NOT Angel Soft.

I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past few days without crisp blue skies and full bright moons.

Red berries & blue sky in our backyard

It’s supposed to snow Saturday night and maybe Sunday. And maybe Monday. I’m kind of excited about it. It will be our first snow living in this house (though I was already renting the cabin last year so experienced snow in part of this space myself). We got our propane tank refilled so we’ll be set after we stock up on more terrible junk food for me to eat. Wait a second! It *has* snowed while we’ve been living here . . . I forgot! But that hardly counted . . .

I just posted a 20 minute vlog I recorded earlier today for members. Also: I had a really peaceful and pleasurable webcam show this morning – thanks to those of you who joined me!

If you want access to my video blog entries, spycams, group webcam shows, picture galleries and videos, BECOME A MEMBER HERE!

I probably would have watched the Super Bowl today but we don’t have regular tv. So I went for a walk wearing my backpack rattling with toy cars and a camera. And gnashed my teeth and cursed at how many loud people were also out walking around.

small brown car on dark green adventure

Delia bought a bag full of toys for our nephew at Goodwill, including a bunch of toy cars. I love things-in-miniature, and toy cars always appealed to me as being of a quality and heft other toys were not. All that metal. Paint that really chips and rusts. Little wheels that make the cars roll. Trying to look inside there, imagining a tiny person hiding in the back seat. Maybe popping his head out and making the window steam, looking back at big ole’ you.

So I was going to take the cars into the woods and drive them on tiny primitive roads I created myself on hands and knees with my hands and twigs and pressing the car into the dirt and needles until the mud wells up around its wheels. Parking them in little hidey-holes, little under-trees, special fern-homes. And making little short porno pieces to go with them. Like the one for the land rover was going to be about this chick getting stuck deep in the woods with a rich pretty boy and his useless fancy SUV and how she punishes him with a shiny socket wrench and other things for not being able to extricate them and not even packing a picnic lunch. But we need a better lens. One that actually DOES close-ups. Because this one doesn’t so I can’t get as tight and intimate with my toy cars as I want to and fuck it I’m not sure I really even want to write those stories anyway.

But I had fun taking pictures anyway and pretty soon it was quiet and I could see and hear and feel things without needing to tune other things out.

spider, spiderweb, wet ferns, blah blah blah

One thing I’ve learned from making porn — spending so much time behind and in front of a camera — is that there is no honest witness and pictures do lie. My whole life and longer people have known that images can be manipulated but we still cling to this weird popular notion that there is ONE TRUTH instead of that truth is subjective. By moving a tiny bit to the left or right or around, the spider web is either there or NOT-there. You can change everything with dials and light and how big or small you make the slit that your eyeball sits behind. Photographs don’t prove SHIT.

red lips and white teeth in bunker

I’m running out of steam right now so I deleted a bunch of this entry because it was too many paragraphs of crazy-talk and I knew I couldn’t sanitize it tonight. So yeah . . . there’s more lurking around the corner, as always.

We got some fresh air walking in the woods on Sunday. Sometimes I don’t want to be anywhere else, just hidden in the trees kneeling at feathers dropped and listening to sudden wings beating above.

Sunlit path with fallen leaves; see Delia?

Maybe it’s because we fail to get outside as often as we can and should that I feel like spending seven whole days outside savoring every amazing detail to be had, smelling EVERYTHING, sometimes (most times?) on my hands and knees.

Fallen chunk of bird wing

And then coming home to a hot bath followed by thick soup under thick blankets with a thick book. And then black black sleep.

If I were smarter, this photo of Delia would be EVEN COOLER!

Last month we took a walk in these woods and saw more mushrooms than I’ve ever seen in my life, like a nightmare amount and variety. More than we’ve ever seen in these exact woods in the past eight years. I regret not going back with the camera for a very very slow and deliberate walk to collect their images. They’re almost all gone now. And I wish we had the right glass for taking close-ups.

Round white mushrooms with delicate fringe.

I imagined I could spend the whole entire winter learning to draw by drawing mushrooms using this collection (I failed to get) of photos as a reference. Because the only hope for me to ever draw anything is to try to learn to draw ONE THING in as many different forms as I’ve ever seen it naturally and only after taking fifteen years to master that, branch out into the realm of the imaginary mushroom.

Slender stalk with mushroom bark over cedar fronds

I can’t imagine ever being bored. Even if my “masterpiece” at the end of it all wound up being a scary grove of cartoon mushrooms painted on black velvet. With a big foul curved pecker in the middle of it all. See? see? SEE HOW THEY LOOK ALIKE???

9/3/2010 Cabin Day #1: 0 (zero) words

Loading stuff up in the van to take to the cabin I worried that the neighbors would think I was moving out and leaving Delia. Maybe that worry was just a projection of my own discomfort over making time alone/away a priority. Because there aren’t good models affirming pursuing time alone away from home unless it’s to do regular work that regular people do in the midst of whole bunches of other regular people. People who desire as much time alone as I do are widely regarded as unhealthy freaks or suspected of having other motives besides a simple need for solitude. Whatever the reason, I wanted to keep running back inside to hug Delia and get reassurance that whatever I‘m doing it‘s not what it might look like to the neighbors.

*****

At the cabin the wind blew and I wondered how come the skinny tall trees here don’t fall down. I amazed myself by not being annoyed that there’s a daycare with kid sounds a block away. I felt the sun on the back of my neck. I gazed at the crescent moon with breakfast around noon. I scratched up my arm and the back of my thigh on blackberry bush thorns. I figured out where I can stand and lie in the cabin with the blinds open without being seen by the girl in the big house or the people next door. I made a note to buy a couple of curtains to further hide myself when desired in those couple of places where I can be seen. I caught up on all of the pooping I didn’t get done while we were away from home for three nights.

I started to stop thinking about how to get down the ladder from the loft  (how do I mount it under the slant of roof? Do I turn around and climb it back down or just walk straight forward like I’m going down stairs?). I lit a candle. Then I blew it out when we left to get gas, but only $15 worth because we’re almost out of money until Tuesday so we didn’t reset the mileage on the odometer because our fuel gauge is broken/stuck on full.

*****

Things didn’t go exactly as planned, meaning I didn’t have time to plan to make things perfectly prepared.

Want to read more about Day One at The Cabin? I’m hiding the minute details after a break so as not to bore or overwhelm folks who don’t want to read about my zero word count day:

Read the rest of this entry »

I’m not a huge fan of photos of the sunset, but I’m posting one anyway as a way to share just ONE beautiful thing we experienced today:

Sunset tonight (June 5th, 2010) from our backyard.

Today we took a walk in the same woods where we took Nico for her last forest walk. It’s the first time we’ve been there since then so it was hard not to think of her, but not necessarily unpleasant because of it. Delia identified birds by their calls:

Olive-Sided Flycatcher.

Orange-Crowned Warbler.

Swainson’s Thrush.

At home I asked her what the birds were in our closest tree:

Cedar Waxwings.

And then over a dozen of them rushed out of the tree right by us.

She’s identified them for me before, but I never remember any of it. I might be cultivating a mental block on purpose because I love having her tell me . . . I like asking her and having her answer. I like being almost completely ignorant and dipping into her body of knowledge and having it be too much for my brain to absorb. I like feeling overwhelmed by the world of birds and having their names sound as new as possible to me each time she pronounces them.

I’ve never been “into” birds (though I’m a big fan of chickens, crows, and owls — all for different reasons, of course — plus some other raptors) so paying any attention to them at all is sort of other-worldly because there are so many of them this time of year and most are so different from anything I remember noticing growing up. They’re kind of a revelation to me, so tiny and animated and enchanting. It’s kind of sickening how much they delight me in the same way I’m slightly grossed out by the way poetry and jazz have grown on me in the past year or so. Like, what the fuck is happening to me?!?

*****

In case you’re wondering what this poppy looked like when it opened, here you go (taken the morning after I took the other ones):

One of the poppy’s sepals thrown off:

Poppy's thick, fuzzy sepal thrown off onto the ground.

In bloom (with another bud below it):

Salmon-colored poppy in bloom.

Oh, and I’m in a much better mood than I was in that other post. I haven’t been getting my B-vitamin shots; I thought I was getting too much because I got headaches a couple of times after getting them (which is part of why I *get* those shots, to *prevent* headaches), so I’ve been taking a liquid form instead and I don’t think it’s quite doing the trick. Anyway, whatever the cause(s) I’ve been a little more anxious and moody lately, among other things, but overall am fine and am working on it. I’m going to take more of the liquid B’s and am refocusing on maintaining a stable blood sugar level and increasing my insulin sensitivity by eating fewer bad carbs. I also did a good job of taking care of myself and a headache on Thursday and Friday without feeling guilty about it because I knew how much work I’ve done this week and that I could afford to get some rest and work a few less hours on those days. Yay for keeping track of hours worked and stuff accomplished instead of only looking at the undone stuff on our long-ass to-do lists!!

*****

We do have porn stuff going on at home and in our members-only areas, I just haven’t been blogging about the sexy stuff as much as I should. But it’s all in there! You can check at TrixieAndFriends.com for some previews.

Nico was fifteen years old and people STILL frequently asked if she was a puppy — so pretty and smaller than people expect Siberian Huskies to be (even though she was normal-size for a female husky). But if they watched her walking from the hind end they’d understand she was an old girl. She started to look like an elderly woman hobbling doggedly with a walker, dragging her hind legs stiffly forward one at a time after reaching forward to brace herself with her two front legs.

Eat as Many Treats as You Want!!

There *was* a choice of whether or not now was the right time to put her to sleep. I’m aware that there are people who would’ve put her down a lot sooner and others who would have let this stretch out forever with doggy diapers and thousands of dollars in vet bills. I’m aware that we might have made this decision for ourselves as much as for her and that I’ve been able to absolve myself of any guilt because she was really Delia’s dog and her decision to make based on twice as many years with her and a lot more love. I’m also aware that Delia gave her a good life and that she’s a HUSKY, and she couldn’t do her husky things anymore – there hadn’t been ululations for a year or more and her sickle tail was permanently drooped into brush-mode. She was confused (at times heartbreakingly comically so, like when she would stand at the hinge of the door waiting to be let out of the bedroom when the door was already open INCHES away from where she’d fixed her gaze – it WAS funny, though sad) and her mobility profoundly decreased. She’d been losing her balance (or her legs just gave out) while she pooped and would often fall over then finish pooping while lying on her side.

Anyway, there was a lot of stuff and seeing blood in her gelatinous-with-mucous diarrhea Saturday night was the clarifying symptom that it was TIME even though it hadn’t been that many days since she ran through the house as much as she could, yipping both in pain and excitement, not able to NOT force herself to go as fast as possible even after wiping out twice trying to navigate the corner between one hallway and another. If it were any other kind of dog you’d think I was describing a very fit and healthy animal, but huskies are just that awesomely driven to RUN and defy every limitation imposed on them.

So we decided to make her last two days full of good things, like her last walk in the woods. It was very very slow and the smallest hills were like giant mountains to her. She even looked at one incline so wearily that she turned around, like “just take me back to the car because I’m DONE”.

Nico's Last Walk in the Woods

During and after making the decision I’ve felt a variety of emotions: excitement looking forward to freedom and possibilities, relief, uncertainty, guilt, confusion, sadness, loss, worry . . .

Our beautiful companion's fur, walking slowly

Two women came to our house to do it after Nico had two days of walks and lots of her favorite soft peanut-butter treats and lots of love and attention lavished on her. The vet and her assistant were loving and gentle and pleasant and thoughtful and smooth and patient and respectful.

Small and short-lived.

The hardest part was the hour before they got here when we were waiting. Everything was ready, Nico was totally worn out, and there was nothing to do except know that she was about to be gone and didn’t even know what was coming (I think Delia felt more confident that Nico did actually know and was fully prepared and welcoming – either way is actually pretty sweet).  I wouldn’t trade that hour of waiting for rushing around or not experiencing that weird duality of tranquility on the outside and guts churning on the inside, though.

Waiting for the vet to come

During the process I felt a fast cycling of emotions of calm, euphoria, gratitude and resignation sort of like when I was in a car crash and had a few seconds to emotionally prepare myself to die and then was elated when I survived. But with this there were also overwhelmingly intense guts-in-the-throat needing to bawl emotions like when I was with my dad during his death.

How beautiful and floppy and light her dead body looked wrapped in a blanket with her gorgeous face exposed and then her front legs tumbling out. The looseness and complete lack of worry. The weird exciting sense of potential like you could reanimate her, so fresh and ready with all of the soreness and stiffness she’d been suffering from magically erased. She really did look like new life (and none of these pictures are communicating the reality of any of this, or at least my perceptions and experiences of these days). She was so so so beautiful.

No more breath, no more heartbeat.

*****

Helping Nico die and being present for it helped me with my dad’s death, to process it more and remember it and grieve more freely and more fast. It’s been eight years, but I really didn’t know a lot about how to be with his death and my feelings about it so it’s been a very long and protracted experience. Watching Nico die — feeling her die, touching her dying and dead — I feel spiritually more at ease than I did when confronted with my dad’s final moments. Maybe my idea of peace is wider and simpler than I must have wished for back then. Maybe my expectations for myself are lower than they were then. I don’t know, but I’m glad for it.

I am an imperfect witness, not a bumbling guide stuck with the horrible responsibility of having taken someone I loved on a journey to a brick wall on a dead end. Maybe I’m getting to be okay with nothing being perfect and not being in control and just appreciating the long moments I’ve had to absorb the profoundly ordinary in all of its individual rarity and treasure it and bask in my blessings. My dad is one of a few people I’ve had telepathic experiences with (even if they were probably more accurately described as intuitive communication or whatever) so maybe I thought I failed by not knowing what he was trying to tell me at the end or that I failed by crying and possibly making him sad or worried during his last minutes of life. There’s a lot less pressure with a dog and it was more okay with me that we were all together but alone at the same time.

The Incredible Machine

Like with my dad it took a number of minutes for her to stop all the way. “She’s not breathing anymore but she still has a very faint heartbeat”. For like four minutes. When we were kids Daddy bought us lots of National Geographic books. One of my favorites that may have impacted my worldview more than any other was “The Incredible Machine” about how humans are all electrical and mechanical and stuff. I never absorbed facts and information the way my sister could (it’s amazing how we had the same books at home and the body of knowledge her brain constructed out of them is so vastly different — and more vast in general — than mine) so what I retained from it is just a philosophy that I might not find in it if I were to read it today, but that might have been the first book I ever read to give me a celebratory nontheistic way of looking at life that was deliciously SPACE AGE eighties-style, like 3-2-1 Contact and synthesizers and stuff.

While Nico was dying it started raining and we were glad it waited until then, not starting until after her last three walks and other quiet time outside. That night the smell of the evergreens after the rain was magnified to supernatural proportions and for a minute I enjoyed imagining that Nico bestowed an enriched sense of smell on us as a parting gift.

Then I stopped wasting brain juice on that and just focused on vacuuming up as much scent as I could with each inhalation, tasting wet green dogless walks in the future moonlight, just me and my girlfriend.

*****

Delia and I have been living together for almost eight years (the first time she told me she loved me was the day my dad died). It’s a significant chunk of time as far as human measurements go but also . . . brief. Losing Nico is another transition for our relationship and maybe I have the feeling like I will contribute more as a partner now. Nico was rooted in so many years of history and two other serious relationships for Delia so she was never really “my” dog; I don’t mean that in a bitter or unloving or detached way . . . it was my way of copping out of taking care of her fully so that I didn’t clean up as much poop or let her in and out as often or get her food ready. I’m excited that we’re entering another stage together and that it’s happening now.

Pair of Trillium

I can’t complain . . . I really can’t complain or regret this loss or wish for any of it to be different. I can’t say that I wish we didn’t have to go through this or that she could have lived forever. Of all the ways of dying and lives and chunks of years of experiences out there to be had, I’d say this death and these years and our lives have been blessed, relatively comfortable with relatively little pain, and filled with pleasure. Am I still bursting into tears? Yeah, but I can’t complain.

I totally have spring fever. We can go anywhere! Do anything! The light in our house looks different. The pretending-to-be-a-grownup feeling is back when I go into my office. Maybe just because everything is intensified after so many intense days? I don’t know, but this is the first time in all these years we can leave the doors wide open and not be afraid that Nico will run away. It’s not that a husky doesn’t love her people, SHE’S JUST PROGRAMMED TO RUN AWAY FROM YOU!!

*****

Check out Delia’s post with more pictures of Nico and background. Contrasting pics of her in her younger days really shows how much she changed physically over the years, plus it’s really interesting to read/see more about Delia!

*****

Note: I feel EXTREMELY fortunate we had a way to pay for her to be ushered out so gently with at-home euthanasia; not everybody is so lucky. Humanely ending an animal’s life is really expensive for most people and doing it yourself is something most people aren’t equipped for (and legally/socially is a prime example of some really interesting double-standards, misunderstandings and class differences in our country). Anyhoo, if you love your pet and can afford to do it this way when the time comes, I’d recommend it as being well worth the extra money (if you can swing it) to have that special time at home and is worth finding out in advance what vets (or other people?) can help you with this when the time comes. I also feel extremely fortunate that my dad died in hospice which is much more like dying at home than like dying in a  hospital, but better than dying at home maybe. I loved it, and think it’s hugely important to be able to spend time with your dead loved one for hours, if you’re lucky enough to have that option and the kind of death you get to see coming.

Christmas Cactus & Others

I want to get lots of things done before 2010 arrives but will probably only be able to manage a couple of them, the most important one being to get ahead on shooting pictures for  our sites. I’d hoped we’d be where we need to be BEFORE this month, but still . . . we’re doing a good job all things considered. Mainly considering that we are only two people and it’s kind of unrealistically bizarre we’ve been doing as much as we have with only two people for seven years. When I hear the number of people other porn companies have working for them I GET REALLY FUCKING JEALOUS. And I also have to just accept that of all the things I want to do, should do, and even NEED to do, I am only ABLE to do a relatively small percentage of them, particularly if I want to maintain any semblance of sanity.

I’d also love to start the year off in better shape: maybe five pounds lighter, a little tighter, and with fewer inches around my middle. I was doing pretty good, but after days of consistent exercise followed by shooting, my muscles are rigid and unhappily torqued with my neck squeezing yuck up to my brain threatening headaches. I should have a standing massage appointment at least once a week to keep my body functioning but unfortunately I can’t afford it so it’s been over a month and I don’t feel so great; my body is annoyed with what I make it do without any assistance or pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure, I started writing an extremely dirty story yesterday, the kind I’m not sure I’ll be able to share, and it made me so insanely excited that I demanded a quickie. I think it’s awesome that I’m able to get worked up, barge in on Delia and tell her, “I’m brushing my teeth — meet me in the bedroom — we need to do it.” AND SHE COMPLIES.