Planning to play with the big dogs

I am definitely going to Shibaricon this year.

I am not pondering going. I am not winning a ticket and then not going (as I did three years ago). Nope - I am totally going.

If at all possible, I have the perfect rope bottom in mind to take along. If she can't make it, I am still going. Dammit. For reals.

You heard it here first!

When I rule the world . . .

. . . all play parties shall be held in the day time.

As it is, I see a great deal of caffeine in my near future.

That is all.

Costuming

As my darling friend and fellow Leo says, "Sometimes, it's all about the costuming."

I've been pretty low energy this month. I have a fair amount of stress hitting on all fronts. And so, I've been pretty ambivalent about whether or not to go to a play party this weekend. (The SIG? That's not in question. I never miss School if I can avoid missing.)

I've been in cranky Daddy mood for days; being on my period does not at all help. So the idea of going to the party has alternated between feeling like a lot of fun and like a lot of work: the packing (which I always enjoy once I start, but was cranky about ahead of time), the planning (ditto), and also the costuming. I had finally decided on a leather top that didn't quite reach my leather skirt, not least because the idea of any kind of cincher or corset made my cramps twinge.

In the course of doing other packing this morning, I noticed the kimono. I never wear the kimono. Mostly, it's just cheesy for most Western rope artists to wear a kimono, for reasons Graydancer lampooned brilliantly at his ARS2 keynote last year. I am not a 'nawashi,' and I don't want to pretend to be one. But worn with that in mind, it's also camp, and I just haven't been in the mood to do camp for a while.

But there it was. Oh so pretty, in a fake kimono kind of way. Lovely with the custom obi a friend made me. And . . . gods it looks so comfortable.

I've been idly thinking for days that I do want to do to the party, but I don't want to work. I don't particularly feel like doing a huge caning scene, or having to discipline anyone. Mostly, I want to sit around and talk with kinky friends, perhaps while idly tying up a pretty girl or two. And then, I want to sit in the hot tub.

So yes, the kimono went into the bag.

And I have to say: sometimes it really is all about the costuming. I am feeling much more like I want to go to the party now than I did before, when I was contemplating the Fuckoff Boots and the little leather skirt. Odd thing, that.

4mm

I often say I tie like a girl. It's my gentle way of tweaking the good ol' boy riggers I consider my friends and mentors. I say that I tie like a girl, but tying like a girl has helped me at things from hoisting girls into suspension to safely getting refrigerators down a ramp without anyone getting hurt.

But next week, I am especially proud to tie like a girl. It's CBT day at the Houston Rope SIG, and several of the regulars are (regretfully, if not surprisingly) backing out. Me? I'd say I'll be there "with bells on", but the last time I said that one of my sicko friends showed up with sisal and a cow bell.



I've been looking forward to this for weeks. Despite being a top, my sweetie with an attached penis is going to let me lay on the 4mm rope I processed. I love that man.

And I think I'm going to ask my girl to show off how to make a dildo harness (that's her work above). That should be fun and interesting for all, even the easily-squicked-by-boy-bits. Those boys always seem intrigued by someone who can fuck like a girl, too . . .

Closing the circle

It's been important to me lately to bring all of my tools to bear in both my communities, which works for me because there is a lot more overlap than what one would think. So much of the basic tech around communication skills, creating a good container for the work, raising energy, grounding, etc. is shared at a pretty deep level by my magickal community and the kink community. And where there's not already overlap, there's a lot of room for potential. (For example, I think a kink community grounded in consent has a lot to learn from consensus.) I have several articles rattling around the back of my head on this, none of which I'll be writing in the limited time I have today.

But sometimes the tools are really quite literal as well. I (co-)priestess a fair number of rituals for the pagan holidays, and have been finding ways to bring my "other" tools out to play -- for example using my rope to create a quick drum harness, or as a cord to hold my athame. Last night, it was casting circle using my new, razor-sharp scene knife. Yes, of course, it was a magickal tool already. But even I was surprised at how much energy it held of it's own as I held it to the ground before casting circle. Forget any purist that would begrudge it its little plastic handle; it did its job well.

Bringing my athame to play was a no-brainer. Bringing my new scene knife to ritual was less intuitive, but I'm very glad I did it. These kinds of shared tools bring me full circle: top to priestess, bottom to mystic, and every point between.

Happy Equinox, y'all.

My First Suspension

If I had the energy at the moment to write up my SIG this weekend, it would be titled: "My First Suspension," by Miriam. Perhaps it would even be a picture book.

However having rigged my first (and second, and third) suspensions today, including an awesome full suspension, I am exhausted. Perhaps after I have had more sleep . . .

Things not to do

When it comes to the scene, I'm a relative newbie. I am still learning the ins and outs of etiquette, and am often very grateful to run in low-protocol circles. But there are a few things I've learned which apply to both the magickal and kink communities, from which I can begin to assemble a short list of Miriam's Things Not to Do at Events. And since I apparently woke up on the snarky side of the bed this morning, I will happily share.

#1. Do not touch my tools without asking. More specifically, ask first and actually gain permission before touching. Usually if polite people ask about my different kinds of rope, I will hand some over for them to touch. But do not walk over, pick up a hank of rope, and then ask if you can touch it -- particularly if you are a complete stranger at your first Rope SIG. I may forgive you, and even be nice to you later, but you have just gained yourself a nice little lecture. Really, do you want me on my soapbox? The next time someone does this, I'm going to tell them I last used that rope for ass play.

#2. Do not distract the scene. It may look like the scene is very low protocol; knowing my darling Misfit Bottoms (tm), it probably is. It may also look like I have several folks already involved in some way. Again, I'm betting you're right. But if this is a scene (i.e., not an instructional SIG where I've asked for feedback), do not interrupt. Things are not always as casual as they appear to be. That guy you see consulting me on how to apply and take off the wax? I negotiated with him to teach me. The other guy helping out? We came here together, and he is the hotness. Our victim? Well, you know she's in. You on the other hand are a complete stranger telling me how to get the wax off my girl, and how my hot new knife that I came here to play with is tedious and inefficient. I am quite certain you did not mean to do that.

#3. Ask before giving feedback. This should be rule number one of the magickal and kink communities. In fact, it sort of is in the magickal community. I am particularly fond of Donald Engstrom's rules for feedback, which are (in paraphrase from this Reclaiming teacher's resource):

Feedback should be:

Given with permission
Timely
Something that can actually be changed
Specific
Only that which will further the work

(That page has some excellent teaching notes on keeping good boundaries, negotiation, communication that would highly benefit either community.)

There are several dozen right ways to hank rope, many of which I've gratefully learned from feedback at SIGs. The time to tell me yours is not immediately after a scene, as I have just gotten my girl out of suspension, when you haven't even introduced yourself.

Oh, and then there's the fun corrollary:

#4. Don't assume you know everyone's roles, or that they are static. I once had the fantastic experience of having a gentleman rigger come up to me while I was in a partial suspension. "When I met you at ARS, I could have sworn you were a top!" said he. "I am," I said, and flipped around in the ropes. My darling submissive? She becomes an evil top on a dime once I get her out of the ropes. Anyone who's been around for a while will quickly figure this out, especially any girl she wants to torture. Underestimate her at your peril. (And don't think that collar keeps you safe; I'm a rather indulgent Daddy.)

The latest funny came when I was teaching Cap'n to bundle the ropes after a scene last week; he asked if he could help and I was trying to teach him how I do it. He tried a couple of times, didn't quite get it, and I took over. (No lack of credit to him; it was 4 in the morning, and we'd been playing all night.) J. Random Person from the sidelines (see #3 above) said: "You should order him to do it again." Ummm. "He's not my submissive, and I don't give him orders. He's my top." I wish I hadn't been so busy with the rope; I'd have loved to see the look on that guy's face.

And finally, and very important:

#5. Don't try any of these assy tricks just so Miriam will give you the hairy eyeball. I know the hairy eyeball is fun and all that, but if you want me to be mean to you, just ask. Violating any of the above rules is one of the easiest ways to ensure you don't get play. Seriously.

_________________

Speaking of places to practice good manners: we're at about 10 weeks. I have seriously got to get my stuff together for Shibaricon. Aiiiiieeee!

Snakes on a sub

Fantastic weekend. All the good things: leather, rope, talons, knives, wax, rigging, hot sex, and -- last but not least -- a motherfucking snake on the motherfucking girl. (Hot!)

More weekend updates when I have slept for more than four hours.

SIG

I did a fair amount of both rigging and being rigged at yesterday's SIG, and learned a few new tricks with bamboo: a quick-release harness with a small central pole, a new way to attach wrists to a 'crucifixion' pole over the shoulders, and a way to use bamboo spreader bars as attachment points for a hog tie.

All this, and I got to be suspended. I've been needing it: the more stressed I am, the harder I want to be played. And so I let myself sink deeply down into the suspension for a while, taking a few minutes to just let everything go and move where I was moved. I was still flying a bit hours later. Exactly what I needed.

(Well, maybe not exactly. I still could use a massive spanking, but I'll take what I can get.)

When I Rule the World . . .

. . . there shall be a rope SIG every weekend, as well as matter transporters between here and cities with cool rope classes.

Sadly, my rulership of the world has not yet been confirmed but I am looking forward to the Houston SIG, which is only a weekend away. All that talk of poly yesterday, but I think it's not really the poly part that gets to me. It's geography, and the solid fact that my darling Pyrate Lass and Cap'n live three hours away.

In the meantime, I have these vague ideas of a big date with a garden center on Sunday morning. I think I might use my newfound rope skills to put in the bean trellis to end all bean trellises. I'm thinking a bamboo tripod with tons and tons of 4mm unprocessed hemp creating a pretty web for the pole beans to climb. This requires putting in a new garden bed big enough to hold the darned thing, which means a day of futzing around, digging and sheet mulching. (Which I have to say is more appealing at the moment than my alternate plans of possibly dancing till all hours Saturday night. Sometimes I'm just old and boring that way . . . )

A Kinkster's Guide to Pantheacon - Pt. 2

So, what's happening this year in the erotic, kink and poly world of P-Con . . . ? Let's see . . .

Looks like tons of stuff on the intersection of pagan, queer and transgender issues. Cool to see a bit more of this every year. I honestly can't recall anyone speaking to transgendered issues at all ten years ago; now there are a few groups doing that, either as part of a queer topic or by iteself.

Live the Dream is doing a Poly workshop, complete with a "love magnet" meditation. Hmm. Perhaps the workshop will be interesting, but not for me. I'm thinking that for my poly life I need a "day planner" meditation. Lots of Boundary/PLAY workshops and rituals. Donald Michael Craig is doing something on sex magick.

Oh, here we go! Luisah Teish is doing "Silk and Honey: Erotic Storytelling from the African Diaspora". These are good, good stories. Want to gossip about the erotic romps of the gods? This is where to get the dirt. I've done Teish's workshops before; she's fantastic.

Looks like she's up against one of LaSara Firefox's flirting workshops, though. Magickal techniques in flirting, eh? I'm guessing NLP, and knowing LaSara I'm guessing it will be interesting.

Of course we Scarlet Women can't miss the PombaGira Devotional to the sacred whore. Yes, I was afraid of going onceuponatime. Those days are over. Pack me some red and black and The Fuckoff Boots; I have some dancing to do.

And um, hmm. No Dossie Easton this year. Damn. No Joy Wolfwomyn either, at least not as a presenter. Hmmph.

I guess it's my year to have a 'vanilla with espresso' con. Oh well, there's always the regular roster of high magick, permaculture, witchy stuff, kabbalah, devotional work from every diaspora, absinthe parties and whatnot. Lots of cool vendors. Enough Reclaiming and Feri homework to keep me more than busy for a weekend. And if I get terribly bored, I suppose I can do a pickup workshop "meet me in my room" style . . .

(I wonder if anyone would go if next year someone did a workshop on magick and rope play? We'd need rope, though. Lots of it.)

A Kinkster's Guide to Pantheacon - Part 1

For folks that don't know, Pantheacon is the longest running pagan con on the West Coast, usually netting about 1000 pagans every February for conferences and rituals on every topic under the sun. I've been attending off and on (mostly on) for about twelve years now, and try not to miss more than a year at a time, if that. The further I get away from the West Coast, the more Pantheacon is my yearly family reunion.

I also have a soft spot in my heart for Pantheacon as a kinkster. I've been going to P-Con since long before I realized there was a kinky "community." I was poly long before my 23-year-old self first went up to San Jose, but P-Con was my first chance to actually meet other poly folks, and talk with them in person about what worked and didn't in their own relationships. I remember how many years I was too scared to go to the ecstatic Pombagira ritual to the sacred whore; it makes me laugh now, but it's true.

I remember the huge trepidation I had about going to see a flogging ritual demo with Dossie Easton and Joy Wolfwomyn perhaps eight years ago. (And remember being mildly surprised that the top in question was the very sweet-looking woman that I'd met at Elie Sheva's Hebrew Paganism workshop the day before. Shows what I knew back then!) But I did go, and that was the first time I really, deeply got it that kink might be something that fit with the rest of my life, with my values, with my spirituality. And of course I haven't looked back. I've made it to as many of Dossie's workshops as possible since: kink workshops, poly workshops, hot chakra-opening exercizes. Every last one has been itself worth the increasingly long trip out.

And my own first flogging was at Pantheacon, too. I remember still the negotiation we had over pizza, the full table of pagans getting wider and wider eyed as they realized that I was going to let my priestess and top friend C. use her barrage of floggers on me. (Good thing, too - she'd gone through hell getting them on the plane, so best she got some use out of them!) Everyone skipped the next workshop, went back to C.'s room, and Miriam got naked and flogged a bit. Years later, I did some of my first topping scenes at Pantheacon, teaching a young man the sephirot of the kabbalah with some very nasty binder clips applied to the back. (I think the difference between mercy and severity might have seemed rather slight on that!)

Even my tools tend to come from P-Con; almost all of my floggers come from Pantheacon vendors, and hope to get a proper hand-made corset this year. (And, insha'allah, a collar.)

I'd started this post planning to talk about kink- and poly-related workshops on the menu for this year, but I'll save that for another post tomorrow. This trip down memory lane has been far more interesting, now that I think about it. I realized that my early adventures in kink were linked with my magickal practice, but hadn't realized quite what a debt I owe to my beloved Con for that. This year, I hope to pack an inordinate amount of rope and keep the tradition going . . .

(to be continued . . . )

Eels and those that love them - Seattle

Again, I am jealous of those Seattle folks and their Wet Spot. Max presents a class Sunday on High Security Rope Bondage, for would-be bondage escapees. Sadly my double-jointed friend and I are here in the dirty South. He's still convinced that employing ottomans is cheating, and I'm inclined to agree.

Even if you're not in Seattle, click through for the pictures of gyaku ebi and ebi. The gyaku ebi looks like the bottom really knows her bow pose. (Very timely!)

I love the note that asks bottoms to come showcase their "'slightly' bratty escape skills". 'Slightly' is good. The last time I was at an escape workshop, we were all ready to practice rope gags by the end . . .

Damn Geography, anyway

Most of the time, I love where I live.

But that's when I'm not having to miss yummy-sounding classes on face bondage and CBT because they're thousands of miles away. If you are in fact closer to Seattle, you might want to check this out. Well, hell, if you're just about anywhere (but work) you should at least peek at the delicious picture of what you'll be missing.

And then in Milwaukee, I hear that the lovely Graydancer is going to be giving classes this month on The Eroticism of Rope and rope and power exchange. Sigh . . .

Closer to home, Steve Indand and Savannah will be offering beginning and intermediate rope bondage classes mid-Feburary at Forbidden Fruit in Austin. I've taken the intro classes and they're good - Steve is a patient teacher with good pacing, and I think he's a great one to take beginner's rope work from. I'm really pleased that he's now offering an intermediate class, which he'll be giving back to back with the intro. I'd love to see what he's doing, and see who shows up.

The irony? That's the weekend I'll be in San Francisco.

I suppose there's always Shibaricon . . .

Out with the old, in with the new

For weeks, it's been festive. Lights on houses, parties to go to, people in fabulous clothing drinking sweet wines and wines that foam.

New Year's was fabulous. My community's party tends to overflow with a huge group for New Year's, and allows drinking. Which tends to make the party more social event than play party. But we managed to have a good time anyway, sequestering ourselves to the play rooms for a bit: an elegant trio co-topping and ringing in the new year with canes and floggers over a roped-down bottom with a huge grin. I am definitely resolved to play more this year. Such a tough resolution . . .

Early January feels rather dull by comparison. I'm really looking forward to Jack Rinella's booksigning and talk this weekend, and hopefully making it to my local rope SIG later in the month. (It's been far too long.)

Documentation

I've been thinking a lot lately about the power of documentation.

A lover once told me, "I feel like as you go through your day you're also writing about it in your head." She seemed a bit concerned by this: not concerned that I'd write about her, but that I might somehow not be fully living my life because my writer's brain never turns off.

And I have to say, at least in part: guilty as charged. I think of myself as a poet and a writer at least as much as I'm a witch. I have published in print and electronically under five names, put out two 'zines, helped produce three others, have run two Web sites, and currently have more blogs than I can count on one hand. Granted I'm no Ana Voog, but I've done a pretty good job of documenting my life, with more or less artistic license.

And, that changes how I look at the world.

The first change is somewhat passive. I constantly collect images for poems. I sometimes think of pithy phrases for my blogs as I go through my day. I am constantly scribbling down ideas for blogs or articles or books. So that's true.

More than that, there's something about documentation that makes me actively push myself into a different life than I might otherwise have. To write on a topic -- and I have a few I write on -- I need to keep up at least a bit on that topic. To write about magick and power exchange means that I have an extra incentive to keep honing my knowledge about two of my favorite things. I am generally not content to have a boring day; that gives me nothing to write about. (Yes, I realize Plath could wax rhapsodic about picking her nose. But please, let's not make her an example.)

It's not just writing. When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to be Andy Warhol - not to be famous as an artist in my own right as much as for touching and connecting others' fifteen minutes of fame. In my twenties, I created and hosted salons and played yenta to other artists. I wanted, and still want, to lead my life as art. And so I've always surrounded myself by creative people, and so I tend to watch what they do as well: visual arts, performance arts, songwriting. I have no skills in those arts, but have a deep appreciation for them. I can only manage a good camera well enough to photograph well behaved subjects like artifacts and museum pieces, so of course I'm amazed at how these artists capture everything from gorgeous landscapes to writhing bondage babes. I've been intrigued by photography for most of my adult life, at least as long as I've been writing. Self-photography intrigues me. Little image blogs. Large installations. But I tend to watch it, not do it. And I'm okay with that -- the photography has other uses for me.

The community whose SIG I attended last week has both a bondage SIG and a photography SIG, and there seems to be a solid overlap. And so, as I found myself tied six ways to Sunday, there were also flash bulbs going off in all directions, photographers setting up shots, and the lively interplay of artists between the photographers, riggers and bottoms, who in turn seemed to keep switching roles. Naturally, I loved it.

And now suddenly I find myself with hundreds of shots piling up. In a few short months I've gone from the girl with the "don't photograph me" band on her arm to a massively documented bona fide rope slut. Just like with my writing, the representation is not the experience. (And I've been a postmodernist long enough to never expect it to.) And yet the representation is its own thing: a reminder, a testament, and ideally a dialogue with the experience. I find myself wondering, along with: what affect will this tie have on my bottom? also: what will this look like? what is the symmetry or deliberate asymmetry? how will this look at thus and such angle? Along with: how does this rope feel to be in? or: how can I do some yoga and dancing in this suspension? a bit of: how can I vamp to the camera? A physicist or post-modernist might call this observer theory: the camera does not merely document an event, but changes its very nature.

Perhaps that's what my lover was getting at. And I have to cop to it. And, I can't say I see it as a bad thing.

The SIG was going at a much higher level than I've seen before for demo and teaching work. Was it just the nature of the community (which has a lot of very good riggers)? Perhaps. But I like to think there's something else at play here. Rope is an art form which is beautiful in part because it's ephemeral. But photography changes that dynamic a bit. The ropes aren't just ephemeral and dynamic. They're also processual - the process is the product, and the documentation helps retain that. And of course the photograph takes the rope a step further into a tool for product: the finished photograph. So now we have three levels of art going on at the same time, at least: the ephemeral feeling of rope on body and power exchanged, the process of the tying and untying, the product of the photograph.

There have long been days I've wanted to play Kiki to someone's Man Ray, so perhaps it's no surprise I seem to be surrounded by photographers. There's something erotic about the dynamic when artists of different media come together: dancers and musicians, riggers and photographers, visual artists and writers. The dance between arts has an erotic charge as hot as sex: the orgasm that starts between the ears. If I recall correctly, the Thoth deck has art as alchemy, and that's it exactly: the third being that emerges when two creative beings collide.

SIG SIG Sputnik!

Off for a weekend of roping with Pyrate Lass, including attending a new SIG.

I always get this feeling before going to a new class or SIG. Will they like me? Will I get to play with the cool kids? Will my Rope Slut shirt fit in, or be passe? There's a feeling about it -- a mix of excitement and slight intimidation -- that I've come to associate with most of the worthwhile and life-changing events in my life.

Besides which, I can't stay too nervous because the other thought in my mind is, mmmm, Pyrate Lass . . .

GloRoMo redux - this time it's personal

Some part of me wants to squeal like Hiro in Heroes now: "Yata!!!! I did it!"

Or maybe I just love doing my part . . .

GloRoMo

Sick of all those NaNoWriMo posts on your friends lists? Looking for something a bit more knotty?

Greydancer presents an alternative: GloRoMo.

Think NaNoWriMo. But instead of 50,000 words written by one person, it's a whole community coming together in a goal to tie 50,000 ft. of rope and share the results. Mmmmm.