WebWhore101: Half-Birthday Gift to Self

It’s my half-birthday! So I just gifted myself a deadline: to make 101 profitable or helpful websites by this time next year >>> WEBWHORE101.COM

A side benefit of this new site for TastyTrixie fans is I won’t be posting as much webmaster-related journaling here and in the members-only secretblog. I know I haven’t been posting much here at all, so maybe that just sounds like GREAT NEWS THERE WILL BE EVEN LESS OF VERY LITTLE! But it will help me post more by giving me clearer boundaries about what I post on TastyTrixie.com, and that clarity will lead to happier stuff here. Regardless, I will be clearer about what my job(s) and priorities are, and that makes ME happier already!

Valentine’s Day, Fifty Years Ago

My mom and dad got married fifty years ago today:

Trixie's mom and dad wedding photo

My mom & dad on their Valentine’s Day wedding in the sixties

Seeing who I come from — thinking about who these people are/were, and who they raised me to be (and loved me INTO being) — is a good reminder to try to be the best of who I *am*, instead of struggling to be better at being more like other people, or trying to give people what I think they want or need instead of what I have and who I really am. I have so many of my parents’ limitations and their gifts – when I look at them with love and realism, I can be kinder: more loving towards myself. More honest with myself.

I’ve been thinking a lot about love as privilege in the past year or so (and privilege and love in general).

I’ve also been circling back to my childhood and young adult years, reflecting on how I experience love and intimacy and connections most profoundly, and where there are gaps and raw little injuries I keep re-experiencing, and accepting that even though I’ve been (and am) really fortunate when it comes to loving and being loved, I still need to puke vomit gag “love myself more” if I’m going to thrive (be the best, happiest, most free, most positive and contributing version of my human self I can be) and make the MOST of my good fortune and unique gifts.

Trixie's mom and dad in black and white 50 years ago

Mommy: 20, Daddy: 32

I’m thinking right now of what it means to be fruitful and multiply. How hard they worked to bring us into being and how they did their very best. Not that any of us believe literally in crazy bible shit like that (or that it has any relevance to us today: OBVIOUSLY NOT), or that they took us to church; they didn’t (though that church they’re standing in is where I was baptized and where my sister’s first wedding was and is a powerfully beautiful place that figures prominently in my values and development – that church is part of my home, even though we didn’t belong to it).

I am meant to bear fruit. I am meant to do things that result in exponential increases of abundance. I believe we ALL are meant for that.
I need to accept with celebratory unapologetic abandon and leaps of faith that I can’t follow off-the-shelf mainstream/normal-person blueprints for that.

I don’t want to love or live a little.

I want to — and I do — love a lot. With fires baptisms feasts famines DEEP QUIET HIBERNATION PERIODS debauchery pestilence dreams deafness sacrifice communion peace oil foot-washing long walks alone VISIONS (hallucinations) long silent walks together temple-building and being laid low over and over and over to be resurrected again and again and again. With trances prayers uncontrollable dancing tics dramatic little speeches blessings levitation transmogrification cave-dwelling and secret walks in the garden, just me and Jesus alone. Just you, and I. With stories and songs delivered especially to/for children. With radiant naked trust and fear-blasted visages and loyal marriage to my own pleasure. And confession and absolute loving forgiveness that we are all just human monster saint angels.

This song is so annoying-sounding, but the lyrics/concept are about having your need for love and attention and comforting acceptance exclusively met all night long:

I believe that I am made in the image of “God” because I don’t know you, but I love you. And I *do* know you. We know each other. The reason you are reading this or anything about people on the internet is to feed an emotional and spiritual hunger. Don’t be shy. I love that about you. We love that about each other.

We believe in magic and bullshit and making babies. Or just masturbating alone on Valentine’s day watching the tubes, like I did today. Together. We are all one body. We are all alone. Happy Valentine’s Day. If it sucks, use your imagination. Get religion. Get a call girl. Or a camgirl. Listen to Hozier all night if you want to. There’s some pretty good stuff in the world. If you can’t find any of it, have a tender conversation talking to your divine little self. Hold your own hand. Do it in earnest.

An Interactive Week

I’ve been WAY more socially interactive over the past week+ than I usually am, including

  • dinner & a threesome with Taurus and his girlfriend (which you could have watched on our lifecams as a member!)
  • first (mini) shoot of/with Z, a beautiful young man (you could have watched me fuck him on our lifecams, too!)
  • an all-night phone call
  • more time with my wife, Delia, than I usually get these days
  • dinner out and a meeting with a group of our older friends
  • met & shot with Goat for the first time yesterday (the pictures make me so totally happy to be a good old-fashioned pornographer)

Actually, all of these things made me extremely happy to be a good old-fashioned photographer, hopeful and excited to redefine and refine what that means heading into 2015.

All of these things put together also made me pretty tired because I’m an introvert, so in between them I’ve been hiding and recovering a lot.

Love, genuine happiness, naughty playfulness, relating to people with awkward authenticity, and celebrating (and eroticizing) male beauty and masculine archetypes are where it’s at for me. Technical excellence is less important than accessible snatches of intimate stories and investing with vulnerability in taking time to really look at people and undress experiences with them slowly. And leave everybody — myself included — wanting more. Nothing has to be great or perfect (or even “complete”) to capture and convey what is GOOD and important and human and seldom-seen. Kink and fetish can be more unnerving and rich when integrated with some appreciation of the days of the Motion Picture Production Code. Suggestive taboo words like “Mommy” and “Daddy”, and tight black leather gloves and white panties and someone coming “too fast” are always going to be bigger turn-ons to me than bare-naked well-lit bodies performing acrobatics and sexual endurance trials.


Five (of the) Different Dicks

From some preview pics I posted tonight for members from a handful of some of the videos I have in my stash that nobody’s seen (yet):

Trixie loves DICK

JOIN to support & come on my autobiographical porn journey AND get access to my wife’s award-winning site: DeliaTS.com!

Over the past couple of years I haven’t posted as much, but I’ve had sex with more people and learned a lot (more) about the kind of porn I want to make and be in (if I’m going to be in it with other people) and the direction(s) I want my site(s) to go.

A lot of this stuff has felt like an experiment in discovering how to balance having the best REAL sex possible (and sometimes relationships, and sometimes romantic relationships) while also making the best autobiographical (and/or just fun/interesting) porn . . . and living the healthiest life. And where to compromise . . . and when not to.

I still don’t have ALL of the answers, but what I do have has been worth getting. And I believe will be worth sharing. Eventually.

I’m still learning stuff, which is probably why I still love my job(s) and want to keep doing (most of/too many of) them.


Going downstairs now to shoot Delia’s mildly-Halloween-themed picture set and HD video.

Life Lessons

My brain doesn’t retain much, but the few “rules” it’s glommed onto really STICK to me. Perhaps I should share some of them every so often:

*Wax can really fuck up your plumbing; never clean your candleholders in a sink in any manner that will result in candle WAX going down the drain. Never.

*Yeast likes sugar, glycerine = sugar therefore women should avoid sexual lubricants containing glycerine (and avoid putting sugary foodstuffs on their vulvas or in their vaginas).

*The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

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