Last year I painted Delia’s balls like Easter Eggs and took pictures and video of her doing a holiday-appropriate fertility kind of thing, culminating in creamy egg-filling landing on a dandelion.
You know dandelions are edible, right? And so is creamy egg filling! Cum-eating is one of my wife’s specialties. I’d say she does it in over half of her videos, and I think this is the PERFECT time of year to combine cuteness with cumminess!
This year she posted the Easter Bunny picture set; we shared thirty of my favorites over on her blog if you want to see more!
My shadow is not in ANY of those thirty pictures, by the way … but this is definitely my preferred format for making appearances these days: barely visible. Just a hint of Trixie. SHADOW Trixie! Man-behind-the-camera Trixie. Sunshine-on-my-shoulders Trixie.
As the days get longer I do feel more like coming out. More hopeful I’ll feel more visibly radiant one of these days soonish.
Staying off of social media helps. Easter is actually the one day I specifically resolved a few years ago to never look at what other people are saying or doing. I may not need to do anything to celebrate Easter myself, but I do find a lot of joy in a wide variety of Easter stories, rituals, traditions, etc. Including the story of the resurrection of Jesus.
While I appreciate and understand criticisms of Christianity — like how paganism was co-opted, perverted, criminalized and lethally punished by Christians, and Easter is a particularly good example of that — I’m still fed by some of those stories I grew up with. When you’re a kid, those things are real and bible stories are some of the first paranormal stories you hear and see PICTURES with rays of sunshine breaking out in all kinds of tragic places. The image of the stone being rolled away and the mystery and hope of his body being gone, and of him appearing to people who loved him afterwards are beautiful stories that most people need in one form or another.
While the Christian stories are understandably stupid and/or too inextricably tied to ugliness and horror for many people (and nobody should be forced to honor or respect what is just pure scary bullshit to them), some of us still love simple aspects of those stories and want to bask in the rapture of them. The stuff that old songs are about that have made people throw their heads back and arms into the air for centuries, craving love and relief and for magic to be real, or at least to suspend disbelief long enough to enjoy the stories that tell us they are so. It just feels more powerful when you participate in it with your voice and body.
On Easter I don’t want to be around or listen to people who tell me not to fuck outside like rabbits or not to believe in Jesus. Neither one of those peoples do I want to listen to so much, or share my voice or body or suspension of disbelief with. Which is part of why I’m being invisible a lot lately. And it is good.