Sunday, January 20, 2013

Fantastical



I remember watching a British documentary once, years ago. It was about sex. They were interviewing men and women about their fantasies. They edited all the men together and one after one, they said the same thing: two women at one time. Threesome. No description or detail. Just the simple repetition. Two women at once. It was as if for them, just multiplying tits and ass by two was the ultimate turn on. More is better. Crass and direct. Boring.

The women however were dirty. Really really dirty. Dirty and specific. Dirty and creative. Dirty and downright kinky. One fantasized about apparatus, machines, and equipment and ways to be restrained. Another thought about animals, dogs and ponies. Another wanted to take control, having a man kneel before her and paint her toenails. And then there were the aliens...

I was talking about this with some friends, and we began to describe our own fantasy lives. We all agreed we had worlds. Not flashes or images, but narratives, details and repeated scenes that we would go over and over again until perfected. Personally, I have an island. I visit that island and replay scenarios. Chase scenes, auctions, and public displays. It's my world.

My favourite story is from a lesbian friend of mine. She had this fantasy that involved a power station. In her fantasy it is her orgasms that fuel the electricity. She would be in the station and people would have to make her come over and over again so that the energy would be generated. She said it made her feel so powerful. I loved the image. A city illuminated by her come.

I have had partners ask me what my fantasies are. I think in hope that they can fulfill them in some way. It is rare that I reveal the details. For one, they could never do to me the things I imagine. I think that is the point of the imagination. To go to the impossible. It is so limitless. I am not ashamed of my dirty world, it just belongs to me. I am in it's centre, the most desired, the most insatiable, the most irresistible. It feels like home, however, where calm sleep follows.

So two women you say? Imagination please. What are they wearing? How do they smell? What do they say to me as they take control? I need details please. I need impossibilities. It is a fantasy after all and that is the point.  

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

BIRT



So it is December 31st and I am in my Bikram yoga class and the teacher suggests writing a letter to ourselves for our intentions for 2013. First off, yes I know, I  am on that hot yoga bandwagon, I admit it. But what can I say? Sweating profusely in a room filled with people with really hot bodies is strangely addictive. Yeah sure, it's great for my core muscles, and somewhere in there is a quest for inner peace, but often it is just worth it for the six foot five blond  shirtless adonis downward dogging it right in front of  me. Ah the sweet smell of objectification. Let us just say, the teacher's continuous reminder to "stay with your breath" whilst probably not aimed directly at me, was certainly applicable to my wandering eye and brain.

I have never been one for New Year's resolutions. People ask me what mine are and I generally shrug and say I hadn't really thought about it. It's true, I probably have a shitload in need of resoluting , but empty promises made to myself after a night of disappointing early evening  binge drinking in uncomfortable shoes never really appealed to me.

I prefer the idea of an intention over a resolution.  Baby steps . So much less binding. Though word on the street is that the road to hell is paved with them. Good thing I thing I think the concept that there is an eternal fiery pit of doom for the damned is a crock of shit. I do have some intentions for the next little while, though. They mostly centre around appreciating my kid, my friends and my romantic entanglements. I often find myself slipping back into patterns of pissed off-ness about what I can't have rather than recognition of what I do have... and I do have so very much.

My main intention is to try and live right now. Must be the yoga again. That whole mindfulness thang. I catch myself wandering in my brain to the future. Calculating endless outcomes and probabilities. Imagining horrific results. I have a tendency to play out all trajectories so that I can preemptively solve all worst case scenarios. I wonder why it is I don't play out all the best case scenarios? Even when I pretend to win the lotto, I have myself figuring out how to discuss the issue with my financial advisor and how to divvy up the loot so that friends and family will all get what they need without harmful tax implications. Even my most depraved of sexual fantasies have an element of problem solving. How exactly is  that rope and pulley system designed? Wouldn't want to lose all circulation to my hands. How much do I go for at the auction and will there be a sensible diet and exercise regime on Slave Island? I mean if I am going to fetch such a high price, shouldn't my master get what they paid for?Endless planning.

So my intention for the year is to simply stop planning. I know that sounds totally counter productive. I am instantly imagining all the things that could happen if I didn't plan for all the things that could happen. This year I am taking a vacation from my calculating brain. I trust it will function adequately under pressure, in a crisis or with the duress of procrastinated deadlines. Let's just put that future stuff on hold for the instant and intend to be alive and noticing what is here and now. As I sit here on my couch with my dog, listening to my kid play cheerfully in her room,  I am noticing all the stuff that I never imagined surrounding me. It's best case scenario and I never planned for it.

So my New Year's wishes to all of you: May your present be better than you imagined futures. May you be surprised by what is in front of you and may your plans be outdone by the realities of your present. Namaste.