In the world of animal totems Roosters are supposed to symbolize the birth of the day, sexuality and pride. This still is taken from my latest video on IFeelMyself.com where I had a funny encounter with some nice cock. Click the link to join 10% off the membership from that link! Enjoy!
“We’re gonna party like its 1999!” her text says. I reply and say I was only 12 in ’99 and definitely wasn’t into parties. I was too busy reading Harry Potter and escaping my erratic childhood. Although maybe if I had known places and people like this exist I would have been up for the adventure.
A day or two later I find myself at a festival dancing my heart out with thousands of other hippy raver whatevers and with my very own manic pixie dream girl, a term I just learned. She really is magickal and whimsical and in this case I am totally the brooding male character. But thats ok. Because she is going to save me…I kid…
We’re stomping and smiling and looking into each others eyes, I watch the flashing lights illuminate her face, the glitter, the rockstar hair cut and I feel so damn lucky to be here right now.
It takes me a couple days to adjust from work mode to this mode. I don’t know if I ever actually left work mode or if I just kind of taste tested freedom for a sec. But for the first two days I have nightmares about work I’m hiring another girl to see at work and feeling guilty about it and then the next thing I know I’m letting a stranger do all kinds of things I wouldn’t normally let them do and am left with a feeling of guilt.
Remember this scene from Waking Life? http://youtu.be/s0TvZRcwz4I
“Its bad enough that you sell your waking life for minimum wage…and then they get your dreams for free.” Yeah.
The music is so loud, which is where the name Doof comes from. Because it literally is like doof doof doof doof doof. For days. The DJs work in shifts to make sure that there is an unending rhythm of bass to dance to. Because thats what we came here to do.
A man stumbles up to us and drops his bendy glow stick thing on the ground, picks it up and sways back and forth whilst trying to focus on my face, “Will you tie this around my neck please. I hate it but please tie it around my neck.” Sure I say picking it up and the Lady Bird asks why he hates it. “Its not sustainable.” he says and I laugh out loud right in his face. “Look at where we are! Is any of this sustainable? The only thing thats sustainable here are the shitters!” He giggles and walks away.
I go to a workshop on Sacred Geometry which is one of those subjects that really interests me and just as “KrystalEyes” as she calls herself is explaining a spiritual experience that she had when she was eight years old I can feel the LSD start to kick in…
“I sat there wondering how many people all over the world were eating…then I thought I wonder how many people are…kissing!” She giggles. “and then I wondered how many people were thinking the same thing and I was instantly catapulted out of my body and into the void…”
She said that experience led her to Sacred Geometry which gave her a mathematical real life scientific explanation for why we’re all connected. Because…shapes. I get it but I don’t, it seems like a hella fascinating way to plan out a property or build a temple though, using recurring shapes and geometric patterns. I’ve often thought that the banner for my blog looked interesting, the shape of my aereola and nipple juxtaposed to a sunflower…maybe that’s why. Shapes. I didn’t take geometry in highschool because sophomore year was the lucky year I spent in Scotland in boarding school in a town that’s right out of a fairy tale and they were already learning trig.
As we’re dancing I picture people in my mind and try to send them my high, again. A little trick I’ve tried to perfect over the years because why not spread the love. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. We’re all so connected and then not. I find it hard to pick the flow I want to be apart of because theres so many little strings that are attached to me and stretch out over the infinite and they’re all reverbing.
He books me for two hours and says we’re going to have philosophical conversations. Awesome. We lay in bed staring into eachothers eyes, he tells me he loves me and asks me what the meaning of life is to which I reply Orgasms. A philosophy I’ve held dear since I was 16. After our time together is up he books for another hour.
And here I am all the way across the world again crying. Again. Because I don’t understand why. When I was freaking out after accidently dosing myself, one of my fairy godmothers calls in almost perfect timing, just after nine. She said that sometimes some people are there just to open the door and then walk away. But you haven’t walked away, you’re still there holding the door open by the handle watching me, I’m one foot on the inside the other foot over the threshold and we’re still here in this moment that may extend into infinity for all I know…and you’re still looking me right in the eye and saying, “Yes you too sweetheart, I’m thinking the same thing.” I wish it never happened.
What is there left to say?
I write all the time in my mind, some of it makes it to paper, some to this shitty laptop I’m using and sometimes it makes it to the internet. But I am always writing, the internal monologue never stops.
These days I’m a bit hesitant about the reality of what I post and from where. Blame the man. And the woman. And the other genders involved. There were many. I assure you.
SO here is a story.
The truth is stranger than fiction, so they say…or is there some truth in fiction?
One morning I decided to go for a walk. Not just any morning. This was a cold and rainy morning, thick heavy clouds rolled in from the East and brought with it big gusts of wind.
Something strange was in the air. I decided to visit some cliffs nearby, in order to get to the cliffs you have to cross a golf course and of course whilst crossing the course all I could think about was making love in the huge expanse of grass, perhaps the sprinklers turn on at night, and the stars…oh the stars. Sex outside is nice, sex with the wind is nicer and the possibility that someone may be watching is even more provoking.
When I get to the cliffs I watch a sea hawk dive and fly back to one of its roosting spots. Then I notice something else…
What appears to be a girl walking towards the edge of the cliff.
She stops. Then she begins to remove her jacket.
I pull out my camera and start taking photos…
She takes off her top and her shorts. Then she stands on the edge, completely naked.
Then I say, fuck it and decide to talk to her…
I climb to the top of the rocks where she’s standing and by the time I make it up there she’s dancing…with a long red scarf…
Damn…a riddle…I hate riddles I tell her…
That is alright, lets play another game, she says laughing…
She lets go of the red scarf and it floats into the wind and down towards the sea…
She stands there completely nude before me and giggles and then walks towards the edge of the cliff, sits down with her feet dangling off the edge…
What am I? She asks before jumping off the edge. I run to see where she may have gone, but there is nothing apart from big blue waves crashing against the rocks.
The sphinx also has a blog, check out Rainbow Rooted for travel photos, hoop videos, food and more.
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
A lady in a bookstore recommended me this novel after I read the Alchemist and was looking for something similar, but when I read the title and the summary I felt like at the time (suffering from major depression) that I wasn’t ready to read something that seemed a bit heavy.
Hearing of the fact the Mr. Coehlo was committed against his will a few times in his youth intrigued me and gave me greater interest in reading it. How he interwove his own experiences into the story was creative.
I loved the overall analysis of the mental health system and what it means to be insane.
before things went under…
this was one of my favorite movies as a kid. i would like to make erotica like this sometime.
Thus begins Tara Burns’ new novel, Whore Diaries: My First Two Weeks as an Escort where she brings us on her journey of transition from stripping to escorting. If you were a fan of Tara’s writing in HoboStripper, our Dirty Girl Zine or her latest blog Ecowhore you’ll be sure to enjoy this tale of sex, sex work and adventure.
From working legally in Canada to van dwelling to psycho-analyzing her clients Whore Diaries is definitely not your typical sex work memoir. My favorite story was of her foot fetish client whom requires the use of a camera as a means of getting off and another client that says she is a daughter of Ishtar.
If you’re a fan of sex work, adventure stories and ecobabes check out Whore Diaries, available for download from Amazon.com !
Since Abby Winters’ move to Amsterdam you may have yourself wondering where am I going to get my fill of amateur Australian porn? Well, aside from GOW, Light Southern Studios is here to fill the gap! Check out their blog for new updates.
I am so flattered that you’re using me or my blog as a research subject, really I am. As someone who hasn’t had the time or privelege (yet?) to attend a university its pretty cool that you want to study me. However, as much as I am pleased to help you with your project, without compensation for my time, it would be nice to see/read/hear what actually happened to the information/interview that I gave you.