Happy holidays, everyone


I wandered around Upper Haight yesterday watching shoppers and wondering what I was going to do for the evening… maybe a podcast, or work on my deadline. I walked around Buena Vista park, like I have since I was a kid — and just like when I lived on the streets. I’ve spent so many xmas eve’s walking around by myself. It was a cool, gray afternoon, and I walked past the same posh Victorians that I’ve dreamed about living in for so many years; the kind of San Francisco opulence that is unthinkable, really, but you know how you dream of these kind of things. Stopping in front of an incredibly beautiful classic Vic, I looked and wondered about their view, saw the piano in the window, and the christmas tree all lit up behind it — it was obviously a piano someone used, as it had well-worn music sheets on top. I imagined a warm house, with the smell of tree, and music filling it. I thought they probably had a fireplace, too.

I stood and took a photo. I was wearing boots and jeans, and my black hoodie with the hood up over my head to keep my ears warm, just like when I lived on the streets and did the same walk, and imagined the same things about people living in these beautiful houses.

I kept walking for a while through this neighborhood, the same neighborhood I used to try to find places to sleep in, thinking about the things that had changed since then, even if I didn’t feel so far away from it.

In Upper Haight, Hacker Boy messaged me asking where I was. I told him — I hadn’t seen him since last week — and he said, stay there I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Family obligations over, I felt like I’d thrown pennies at his window and convinced him to sneak out. Contrary to my expectations, I wasn’t going to be alone on xmas eve.

When we were back at my house, he started with the one on my ankle, and his eyes never left mine. A kiss, a number, a kiss, a number. Drowning by numbers. When he got to my wrist, a recount in reverse order. A different number; another recount as I giggled and squirmed. Here, I have no disguise. The undertow of his kisses was sweet, and made me forget about being alone.

People often tell me I’m prettier in person. I don’t know why.

Thirty-two cherry blossoms. He said, “A power of two. That’s good.”

(Image: self-portrait last night in Union Square at around midnight, San Francisco)

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Still trying to whip up some holiday enthusiasm

santa-maid06.jpgA reader sends me a little inspiration for my grinchy mood this holiday season. Snip from Whipping Up Enthusiasm (with whips):

“Russian scientists from the city of Novosibirsk, Siberia, made a sensational report at the international conference devoted to new methods of treatment and rehabilitation in narcology. The report was called ‘Methods of painful impact to treat addictive behavior.’ (…)

Russian scientists recommend the following course of the whipping therapy: 30 sessions of 60 whips on the buttocks in every procedure. A group of drug addicts volunteered to test the new method of treatment: the results can be described as good and excellent.

Doctor of Biological Sciences, Sergei Speransky, is a very well known figure in Novosibirsk. The doctor became one of the authors of the shocking whipping therapy. The professor used the self-flagellation method to cure his own depression; he also recovered from two heart attacks with the help of physical tortures too.

‘The whipping therapy becomes much more efficient when a patients receives the punishment from a person of the opposite sex. The effect is astounding: the patient starts seeing only bright colors in the surrounding world, the heartache disappears, although it will take a certain time for the buttocks to heal, of course,’ Sergei Speransky told the Izvestia newspaper.”

Sounds like christmas might be more fun in Russia! Image via.

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Actually right now the “f” is for “fuck Christmas”


I spent the afternoon wandering around the Castro, looking at people shopping and just kind of being around humans. Everything in the Castro is “holiday”. It is festive. Men in pink shirts bustled with gaily (note the spelling!) wrapped boxes, lesbians were seen in Walgreens. I bought Alex a delicious can of holiday dinner. I bought myself honey soap, caramel and marzipan candles, and band-aids. I should have rented some festive movies for myself, like Deliverance or Requiem for a Dream. When I got home I had a mailbox full of festive holiday bills and the best holiday card ever — a report card. This side reveals my grades; this side shows my report. Yikes! An “F” in “humility”!? But I’m so shy! Reticent! It’s the cupcakes! Not me! “Sexual acting out”!? It’s the cupkakke…. !

I feel like I should go out and find the five friends left in San Francisco right now who have been rejected by their families for being vegan, but I just can’t seem to make the effort. Damn this nauseatingly familial season. I bought little foil bows for no reason at all. I think I will stick them on my cat. And maybe my tits. And surf for more eye-searingly awful porn to post on Fleshbot. That’s fucking festive, isn’t it? Like my holiday dinner, salad. So joyous. In empathy, I drowned it in Italian dressing. Maybe if I find more eel porn it will put me out of my misery before tomorrow. Actually, I’m going to my friend Jessica’s party in a little bit, another party where I don’t know anyone. When Jessica’s out of earshot, I’m going to fabricate my employment description. I will be a livestock inseminator. Or a prison guard. Or a porn star whisperer.

No, the goal is to find a boy or girl all in black sitting morosely in the corner, with which to sip bitter drinks and convince to attempt euthanization of each other with our frightening knowledge of Morrisey and Cure lyrics, to help me count all these very sore cherry blossoms and maybe even get them kissed a little bit, and just generally lament that this season just stinks to high heaven. This is exactly the kind of scenario where I brood all night until I decide to make a death ray space laser with my copy of the Necronomicon and wake up the next morning after the experiment went horribly wrong, determined to destroy christmas but can’t decide if the winged monkeys or undead army will go with the fetish heels I’ve picked out for christmas eve, not sure if I have time to be an evil overlord of all mankind because I have to do some blogging and stuff, and maybe I can just do it part time with a supernatural avatar, except I’ve totally got the *perfect* little black dress for world domination *and* a burning desire to turn christmas carols into bloodcurdling screams of terror… bwahahahahah!



Off to the party now.

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Galacticast’s “Video: Sexy” for me!!!!!!!!


My office chair almost burst into flame! I squeezed my mouse until it squealed! My nose became a soy latte launching device! The elastic in my panties couldn’t take the heat!

OMFFGGG — Casey and Rudy (#3 and #3) made a video for me — VIDEO: SEXY — in response to the Top Ten Sexiest Geeks of 2006 list! It’s laugh-out-loud hilarious and mon dieu are they sexxay in it. You have to see it even if just to hear the lines about things like “the Rose of the Kevin.” When it’s dark later, I’m *so* going to hang a piece of mistletoe on my cinema display and search for Galaticast on Flickr… Thank you #3 and #3 for the best holiday gift, ever!

Watch the video! WATCH THE VIDEO!!!!!!

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Blogs, MSM and theft

A reader sends me this very interesting writeup on reality blurred, anatomy of a (stolen) scoop (found via). I’ve been very confrontative about this issue for a while and I found Dehnart’s piece absolutely fascinating, not to be missed if you blog (or write for le dirty media).

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Friday before the holidays


I’m done filling in for Jonno at Fleshbot and I had a blast, even with the evils of holiday/Santa smut (which we’re all *totally* sick of at Fleshbot — another anorexic Eurochick in a Santa hat and I’m going to barf). I really, really love doing that kind of blogging and hope to do more of it in some fashion next year — and my favorite posts were The Enchanted Doll (for the beauty), Gallery 4D and Santa Claus Porn (Dot Com) and Naomi Campbell’s Nude “Livescan” (for the fun I had writing, more than the actual links), Explicite-Art Blog (for the yummy free hardcore Euro porn), and Scary Holiday Sex Toy Gift Suggestions (for the horror, the horror). More horror: I found what I think is home of the new goatse (click at your own risk, for reals).

Holidays suck — I’m alone and a little sad-feeling. But, after waiting for two long months for my appointment with Scott Sylvia, I got tattooed yesterday (see above photo — it’s really me), went to sleep in bandages, took this photo out of the shower, and then took this full-length nude shot of my new tattoos before getting dressed today. I was secretive and only told three friends about getting my tattoos, kind of because I wanted it to be *for me* and I did it by myself. They are the markers of a very intense year for me, one where I felt burnt down to the ground in many ways, and also more alive and open to beauty than ever. I’ve been by myself a lot lately (everyone is off with families for the week/end) and I’m just sort of rattling around the blogosphere. It’s the anniversary of the exalted and the detrimented. Funny bit: I paid for my tattoos with my first Hearst/Chronicle check — they paid for my ‘blogger’ tat. It’s the little things.

But you want some fun and dirty holiday erotica — yes? Me too! While I’m getting permissions and gearing up for a few holiday podcasts, check out the holiday erotica I have in the archives:

* Open Source Sex 24: Hot(ter) Holiday Smut (MP3) From The Merry XXXmas Book of Erotica by Alison Tyler — “Santa’s Favorite Elf” by Molly Laster, with spanked feminine behinds and spontaneous lesbian exhibitionism; “Trimming The Tree” by Alex Mendra, featuring handcuffs and forced blowjobs; and N.T. Morley’s “Christmas Morning”, including a very unusual sex toy as a prelude to intense anal sex. Happy holidays!

* Video slideshow option: sexy and fun photo slideshow by Siege (Daily Siege @ Nerve.com)! Download the video file to watch and listen, only 30MB: http://violetblue.libsyn.com/media/violetblue/open_source_sex_24.m4v

* Open Source Sex 22: Holiday Erotica (MP3) Cozy up with some hot holiday erotica! Reading from The Merry XXXmas Book of Erotica, I dish out two explicit gems starring, well… holiday erotica anti-heroes, if you will. In “Here Comes Santa”, a young woman escapes her crazy family and finds solace in a local sex toy store, buying herself a *big* holiday gift. In “‘Tis The Season”, an office worker with a very negative holiday attitude gets an attitude adjustment on his knees in the supply closet at the hands of a surprising blonde… Slightly snarky, hip, and fun stuff — just what the season calls for.

And, super older, with sketchy audio quality:

* Open Source Sex 3: Filthy Dirty Holiday Podcast (MP3) I was going to podcast the first three chapters of N.T. Morely’s The Castle, but I decided, hey, ’tis the season — I’ve got some really hot holiday erotica. Check out two dirty stories about couples that cook up some very naughty holiday surprises in stories by Ayre Riley and Xavier Acton.

Update/sidenote: this is the 900th post for Tiny Nibbles! w00t!
Update 2: Scott blogged my blogger tat on Laughing Squid, yaaaayyy1

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Sex.com redux: More in this week’s Chron column

sexdotcom.jpgAfter all the attention it got, I took the post I did on the newest Sex.com development (shooting of Mexican lawyer “The Toad”) and dug into the whole story, simply excited to get a chance to tell it featuring the bizarre details that I think make the saga so freakily fascinating. I was also thrilled to finally illustrate the kind of sleazy URL hustlers and startup sleazebags that are oh-so-common around these parts. Check out Sex.com: A URL — All Crime And No Sex for a lurid read. Snip:

“Like mobile-home scammers in Florida and billboard plastic surgeons in Los Angeles, URL grifters are part of the sleazy yet entertaining Bay Area tech-industry zoo. And so when a guy like Gary Kremen snags URLs like Match.com and Sex.com and dabbles in brokering far-reaching Web page patents and “Internet consulting” while (according to a 2005 CNN interview) working on a nice speed habit, he just sort of blends in with the rest of the money-grubbing, VC-chasing dot-com herd. Like most startup cowboys, Kremen sat on the Sex.com URL as an undeveloped property — until a con man named Stephen M. Cohen came along and swindled VeriSign/Network Solutions out of Sex.com with fast talk and forgeries.

High school could not have been a kind experience for Cohen. A fairly unremarkable-looking man (when last seen by authorities upon release from a Tijuana prison two weeks ago), he attended Van Nuys High, whose alumni include Paula Abdul and Robert Redford. Maybe that’s what gave him an unquenchable thirst for fame and fortune, the kind that makes one think that crime is a perfectly acceptable means to success.

As if he were spending his life getting ready for the dot-com boom, Cohen amassed a history of odd jobs, including operating an old-fashioned cord-board telephone answering service in the early 1980s and a stint posing as a bankruptcy lawyer that landed him two years in the federal clink. Cohen next found his calling in the heyday of the Bay Area’s mid-’90s Internet Wild West, grabbing Sex.com in 1995 after wearing down Network Solutions employees with a barrage of phone calls and one (delightfully retro) forged document.” Link.

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