it was just for work

Really.

I met with the TV Producer because I had questions about the film I'd made with my team for the graduation project - legal questions, how-to questions, and wanted him to have a taste of it and see if he liked it.

A few months back, I'd been in his neighborhood and sent him an SMS. He said he'd met someone but would still like to see me sometime. He sent an email a month or so later that he still felt the same. But I was - ahem - tied up with Mr FD, my heart and mind wrapped around our possibilities and, in comparison and context, the TV Producer's spanks didn't seem like they could measure up. Nor did I want to try it.

But here we were. He offered me champagne to celebrate my graduation. We talked film shop and then about our lovers. I felt flushed and drunk, and like he was staring through me as I told superficial details about my homestays with Mr FD.

And then I asked him about Beatrice Ardisson's "Take Me for a Ride" album. I'd pressed upon him that I'd looked all over for the album to buy it, but couldn't find it.

He searched and searched his stacks of discs. We had listened to it every time I was over before, but now, it seemed telling that it was buried or lost or misplaced. He found it and let me burn it. He found the accompanying film - made for Audi - and played it on the TV, giving him an excuse to move from the opposite couch to my side.

When it finished, there wasn't much left to say. He was interested in viewing my film, but we didn't have much to talk about it, except to confirm that my fight for copyright was right (against the director of our program, who all of a sudden seems compelled to share it / own it / have copyright with us).

"Well, I should go," I said.

He reached over. "Let me see the scars from his cigarette burns."

I pulled my left tit out of my shirt and showed him as if he were a doctor, removed from any sentiment. He touched it and reached for the other one. He felt for the scars and rubbed my nipples until they were hard. I leaned back and sighed. Closed my eyes. It had been a month since I'd been touched. Since Mr FD. I hadn't come to the TV Producer's place with intentions of screwing, as I thought he was deep in with this other woman. I wasn't offering a move. I had resigned myself to leaving fully clothed and non-altered.

He put my hand on his pants and asked me if I could feel how hard he was.

It doesn't take much for a slut to get on her knees.

it's so hot in Paris

that all the shutters are open tonight
turning the city from grey to warm yellow
the swallows are screaming
as they intertwine and play
and hunt in the sky
it's so hot in Paris tonight
the cat calls on the street
are barely murmurs

it's gotta be the heat

Street Hassle
I wanna go Gonzo
walk the wire
call up randomly
smoke and drink
scream from the pier
until the words
just type themselves
out

Overdue and underdone

My lord it's been a while for posting here.

Homestay in Switzerland ended. I graduated in Paris. (No, no, please don't call me Master.) Then, took a jaunt through Cinque Terre (where I could spend the rest of my life if it weren't 3 hours to the nearest airport -- and that's if the trains are running), Prague, and Amsterdam. Most of my comments during this time were on Tumblr so go have a look - photos there, too.

Not so much sexy sexy fun during those days, nor during these days. I'm mostly consumed with figuring shit out. Yeah, free from the grips of grad school and now I have no idea what to do. A slight pre-mid-life crisis as it were. Ideally, I'd love to take the next three months and do something with my graduate project (a documentary film), write the CDOA book I've been longing to write for years and years and years and years, and make a photo portfolio. What about public policy and the years of study? Well... well.. well. It'd be lovely to combine it all and go off into the world as a premier political photojournalist. Can a dream deferred come true? Or, was it a dream in the making? Ten years ago in December, I graduated from college with a double-major in photography and Spanish. At lunch with my parents and sister, my father asked me what I'd like to do now. "Work for National Geographic."

I'm revisiting that idea.

Or, perhaps, it's resurfacing in me.

A life less ordinary

Southern France and Barcelona were incredible. Great times with great friends.

I'm now in homestay with Mr FD in a cloudy, rainy Switzerland. Day 3 and it's been a mix of sorts: highs and slightly less highs. We're figuring out our relationship, ourselves, and our places in things. I'm PMS'd and as you all know, I typically ride out the PMS alone, away from interaction with the humanz, but this has been a relief of a different kind to be here with him riding this state. I'll write more on details later, but today is a deeper day into domination/submission lifestyle. My friends in France joked that I'm living the housewife tale in Cocorosie's ironic "By Your Side" (video live).

I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
I just wanted to be your housewife
All I wanted was to be your housewife
I'll iron your clothes
I'll shine your shoes
I'll make your bed
And cook your food
I'll never cheat
I'll be the best girl you'll ever meet
And for a diamond ring
I'll do these kinds of things
I'll scrub your floor
Never be a bore
I'll tuck you in
I do not snore
I'd wear your black eyes
Bake you apple pies
I don't ask why
And i trys not to crys
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
I'll always be by your side
Even when you're down and out
And its nearly midnight
And all i want with my life
Is to be a housewife
Is to be a housewife
'Cause it's nearly midnight
And all i want with my life
Is to die a housewife
Is to die a housewife

...more later....

Vacationing

Yes, friends, well it is over. I emailed my last paper, memo, and documents for the final project. And a day early, thank you. This does not speak to the caliber of work because it sucked and it was sent intentionally as crap. Be done! Move on! Senioritis!

And now, there's a sort of confusion. Mr FD put it so nicely as "postpartum" and I'd have to agree. In a way it was giving birth. So, my final project comrades and I had lovely flutes of champagne and talked about how odd we feel now that it's done. What do we do? One has a job already so she's set. The other has called in reinforcements and her NYC pally will come to town. The other has a partner and they will make flight plans to return to South America. And me?

Well, I have been invited to go south to Toulouse to hang out with pdh and his lovely lady M. I thought about saying no so I could just simply veg out in Paris, wander, readjust, etc. But it's better I go. See them. Get out. Move my brain in other places. Staying here and I might have felt trapped in the 2-year rut of sitting at my antique table with laptop, typing typing something, and not seeing much of summer sun. So, instead I'll go to Toulouse and laugh with them, talk, drink, and who knows what else. Then, they'll so generously throw me in the back of a car and drive me to Barcelona with them. I've always loved car rides, train rides, bus rides, motorcycle rides, bike rides, traveling over the landscape with my eyes, and the rhythm of the road. We'll have a whirlwind together as they wind down their trip and I start mine. Short visit in Barcelona and I'm off to Switzerland again. This time, for a 10-12 day homestay with Mr FD.

I realize I'm overdue in posting an overview of actions and thoughts from April's homestay, but I'm not sure yet how to share those. May was a different story. I think it was, from the outset, very different than what we would have imagined. Mr FD was sick, I was stressed out, and the weekend was different contextually than what I had envisioned (whenever I envision ... and don't let my mind race too far off). I think we had some really deep progression. As cheesy as it sounds, Mr FD decided that I would/could/should be his submissive and we talked at length about what that would/could/should mean. The end of the weekend went a bit off into a strange place and we're still talking about what happened, acknowledging it, figuring it out, and man, I can't wait to just move beyond it now. But, I do know that we have some more to discuss.

It must really suck being a dominant. I mean, as a submissive, basically, my biggest job is to obey, serve, and try my hardest to be the best sub I can be. (Which, evidenced by my rate of incurring punishments says something. I am trying, trust me. But there's a LOT to learn and, remember, I come from a testy, fuck-you, punk rock, skater girl background. I have a will that wishes to be tamed, but nonetheless it bucks a bit.) But dominants, well, they've got to remain steady and reliable, trust-worthy, capable, sometimes what our dads weren't or sometimes what our dads were, sometimes what our lovers were or weren't, in control, monitoring, keeping it together, etc. Often there's not much room to be human or real or fallible in these scenarios. After all, I'm not sure what extreme risk the dom sees in trusting the sub. "Please don't be totally crazy or sue me after I beat the shit out of you." Whereas, subs - if they aren't totally crazy - are thinking about the aura of trust into which they are placing their vulnerable bodies and minds. Huge responsibility for the dom. Anyway. Mr FD and I are building over time and interested in seeing what happens and that's good enough for what I want right now. Funny though, since February, since deciding to meet him, I've been saying the same thing to myself: I am ready to be his full-time and live with him - but let's see how this homestay goes just in case. I have, since February, asked the stars for a sign and all I get is monthly decisions to make another homestay. I think they're now laughing at me - and some must be screaming and rolling their eyes. "What more do you want, Lola?!?!?! THIS IS THE SIGN!" I know. I know. But rationality isn't a foe.

And so, vacationing and home.

I'd like to get crazy fucking drunk on wine with pdh and M and see where things go in the middle of the sky. Albert Camus visited it in the 1950s and remarked that “In Cordes, everything is beautiful, even regret”. We shall see.

And then, Barcelona. I haven't seen this fabulous place since sometime in 1998, when one could climb to the top of the cathedral and look out. I wonder if I still can. I didn't fall in love with BCN then, but so many people have loved her since that I wonder what magic has come. I'd prefer to stop along the way than rest inside the city. But, I'm lucky to be driven along the road so we'll see where we go.

And then, BCN to GVA, train to Mr FD. We had an hour chat today, which was nice as my mind was reeling with packing, doing, running errands, paying landlord, this person wants to see me, this person, and he told me stories that distracted my brain race. But at the same time, I felt a bit ... strange. I haven't been one to co-habit with another person for a long damn time. Even with James, my longest relationship, we spent almost 2 years just spending weekends together. I have to admit I'm terrified by the idea of 10-12 days with one person. Granted, we both have work to do and I have territory to explore in the country so it won't be like every second spent together. But it could be. And I'm not afraid of that. Strangely. Instead, I'm afraid of finding out that we couldn't spend every second together. And my seconds are imagined with silence - me in hood and serving with no talking, with OCD - me as céline cleaning and no speaking, with screams - in pain, with quiet - us both on laptops working on whatever, in torture - me tied up and silenced for hours on the floor. Whatever. I'm so hoping it will work out because I can't fathom it not.

One strange thing I thought about today though. As Mr FD told me about a fling with a story. Adjusting to poly is interesting. I haven't really practiced it despite my years of believing in it. I have bubbling feelings of fear, desire, want, admiration, justification, attraction, love as he tells me about this. I'm also jealous. I had a drink - finally - with the Butcher since our last year love affair. It ended up with a lot of whiskey and spanking and fucking. I loved being with him, but I also kept seeing Mr FD. I kept feeling him. I kept thinking of him. I'm just not sure what kind of a poly I am. Or how to do it without feeling weird. I want sex and love and fun with other people, but I'm not sure how to balance all the feelings. So I'm jealous that Mr FD already has his poly understanding - although I'm sure he'll help me figure out mine. And from all this, as our Skype call went on, as he told me about his fling and as we talked briefly about mine.. I kind of started to freak out. This is the first time that I feel I'm involved with someone who out-kinks me. Really. Someone who knows more about bdsm, has more experience with poly. This hasn't happened since... well, almost never, at least at this depth. And that's a total throttle. Not that I don't have something to share or teach, not a self-diss. But to be with someone who might be more kinky and crazy than me? I think this might, sadly, bring out the defenses and the punk rock fuck you. Or, I might be able to bring the earthy, yes, yes, guru listening and learning in me. I just don't know. I've never been here before. And part of me hates the idea and part of me is oh so grateful.

Yes, vacationing. It will take on a lovely form. And I'm ready for it.

Thank you

Every year, without fail since I've known him, noman, a dear friend and secret lover of mine sends a birthday gift. I'm sorry, noman, but this year, well, it was a bit of a distance enjoyment.

So, after this email exchange with my mum, my dad dropped an email that if I'm still online, could they Skype with me for my birthday? I said sure and got on Skype. Went to call them, and, ironically, dialed Mr FD instead. (We had chatted for an hour and half before hand.) We laughed and laughed and I apologized - total Freudian slip to call my Daddy when I meant to call my dad. So funny!

Then, dad and mom called. The screen was all weird and pixely with funky rainbow colors. I could hear them but could not see them. Must be the laptop. Hit it a few times while they kept saying, "Hello? Hello? Hello?" Then, I hung up the call and called back. Same screen visual and they told me to just wait a second. All of a sudden, they came into view behind a piece of paper and sang the complete version of Happy Birthday to You. I laughed. I cried. It was so sweet and silly of them (unlike them actually). I laughed so hard.

Then, they showed me the package from Amazon. It was big. They said it felt heavy. Having looked over at my kinky Lola Amazon wishlist page, seeing that my address for the wishlist was France, I figured that anything in the box must be from the other safe Lola family-friendly wishlist. I asked my mum if she'd gotten my last email, that I wasn't doing anything shady or .. she finished my sentence "harmful to children or pets." Ok, so, well, there you go, dad, now you know I'm bisexual. Hahahah I was laughing. He said I was getting too silly (his way of dealing with uncomfortable levels of open expression, I guess).

So, they opened it. I asked who it was from. They said noman. Ohhh, noman! Such a good friend that I know from Madison. What a sweet friend to send a gift for my birthday!! Mum held up the first book, Revolutionary Road, and then the second book,



















Oh, I started to laugh and laugh.

Dad picked up the card again and I said I wasn't sure if he should read it out loud - did he want to read it? I was laughing. He was smiling but being serious and "Sure. It's nice. Here, listen." He read it.

First, my birth name is not Lola. Indeed, it's something different. Dad read this. "Dear Lola - is Lola you?" I was still laughing. "Yes." "Because if it's not you, maybe these gifts go to someone else?" He was smiling.

noman had recently read Revolutionary Road and thought I'd like it. noman had read some of my writing lately and thought I might like the Secret Identity book, as well.

What a sweet friend, I sighed.

My parents quickly changed the subject after the gift opening and we moved to talk about lawn de-thatching, birthday day tomorrow, and laughed again about their surprise birthday song to me. Pretty gutsy and cool for Midwestern folk. And, so damn sweet and nice and thoughtful of noman. He's meant a lot to me over time but I never thought we'd still be friends for this long. Thank you, noman. No worries on the how it happened. It ... just so happens. And it's probably a destiny waiting to happen, actually, that my parents get eased into Lola and my lifestyle. After all, I do aim to write a book or three on the matter and would rather a toe-inching-into-the-pool than a grand dame of heart attacks.

Thank you again, noman. Really. They'll be shipping the books tomorrow so I get them before end of month. I'm so looking forward to seeing them on my shelf and reading them.

You gave me a belly ache of laughter and some tears of joy. What a great way to start a new year of life!

So much love to you.

xoxoxo

Lola
with a Secret Identity

Birthday present - from you?

Hi, friends -

My mum sent an email that she received a Fed Ex Amazon package mailed to me ("it's not ticking," she joked). Not sure who it's from or what's in it. In order for her to ship it to me or for my sister to bring it to me from the US, she'd have to open it and know what's inside. I'm guessing it's a book. However, if you, by any lovely chance, happened to be so kind as to send me a birthday present, and if it happens to be a dildo, erotica about spanking, a porno of midget incest, or a pair of delicious anal plugs - please drop an email to confess so I can warn my poor (yet super duper cool) mother and ask her to ship them over.

Many thanks in advance.

Lola