March 22, 2013 in conflicted eXXistence blog, Fiction, Lynsey G, Nonfiction, Published Elsewhere, Shameless Self-Endorsement
I got a publish! A narrative nonfiction/kinda fiction/prose something-or-other I wrote a few years ago was published in TOSKA magazine… in January.
I… didn’t realize it had gone up. Because… I am not very good at this.
BUT! It’s pretty rad. Go read it!
December 7, 2012 in conflicted eXXistence blog, Events, Lynsey G, Miscellaneous Miscreantism, Narcissistic News, Nonfiction, WHACK! Magazine
Madame Rosebud at the Kissing Booth at Darling House's "The Other American Dream" Party
Ok y’all, I’m in Florida. (Catch that “y’all”? I’m in the SOUTH.) It’s like 80-something degrees here, and sunny. And I’m on a balmy back porch drinking coffee and working on my graphic novel and keeping up with e-mails (kinda). But I’m not gonna blog at length, because, frealz. I’m in Paradise.
But you should know some things. Remember how the other day I was all, “Dude, go to the next Darling House party”? There’s lots of photographic evidence as to why on WHACK! Magazine right now, along the lines of the above. And pictures of my new hair in case that’s more of a draw (for some reason) than mostly naked pics of Stormy Leather and Madame Rosebud and Stoya and Sovereign Syre and Buck Angel. Everyone’s got there kinks.
And yeah, did you read my article on xoJane? I feel pretty darn good about it.
Also… I’m going to the beach tomorrow. BOOYAH! Peace out!
June 21, 2012 in Art, Art at Large, Artsy Events, conflicted eXXistence blog, Miscellaneous Miscreantism, Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, WHACK! Magazine
You may not be surprised to learn that I’m a huge fan of Annie Sprinkle. She’s pretty much the living embodiment of Awesome Feminist Activist Artist. She’s like the end goal of all my attempts to be everything cool. She was a prostitute and porn star who got a PhD and became an artist, then an activist, and is now kind of like the Grand Poobah of Cutting-Edge Weirdness in support of activism, queer identity, artistry, and ecosexuality. She showed over 20,000 people her cervix. She beat breast cancer. She is amazing. So needless to say, I’ve been curious about the “ecosexual” movement that she and her partner, Beth Stephens, have been busily pioneering for the past decade or so, celebrating their relationship to the cosmos with a series of weddings at which they’ve so far married the sky, the sea, the moon, the dirt, the air, the sun, the rocks, and even the coal and metals inside the earth. I’ve seen photos from many of those weddings and always wanted to have a massive party that could even come close to measuring anywhere on the Richter scale of cool that they rock at… but I wasn’t really sure what was going on. I mean, really? Marrying the moon? Like… it’s cute and all, but what were they trying to do? Was this serious? Was it some kind of joke? Or something in between?
So of course, when I heard that this duo of fabulous would be giving a presentation at the Grace Exhibition Space in Bushwick, I hied me to the art space to share the same air as my idol Annie Sprinkle and the woman she shares her life with… and to get some insight into what the hell was going on with ecosexuality, or sexecology, or whichever moniker you’re going with.
And… you guys… I’m so serious. I AM NOW ECOSEXUAL. Or I think I was all along. I’ve always had a thing for trees—like a real thing for trees (just ask my friends who watched me talk to a tree for several hours that one time in college when there may have been hallucinogens present in my system) — and the idea of sex outside in the grass under the stars has always turned me on. And thunderstorms? SO HOT. It’s not that I want to have sex with these things, it’s just that these things turn me on. And, you know, why the hell not own it? As Beth put it so well on Thursday, the idea of connecting to the earth as a lover instead a mother or nurturer may help to bring people closer to it and make them more willing to see it as something worth giving back to. You love mountains? Awesome. Don’t just love them from a distance in the abstract sense—make a vow to the mountains to protect them, love them, nurture them, and value them. Marry them. Then, instead of expecting the mountains to do your laundry when you go home and make you sandwiches, you might be more willing to clean up litter along the hiking trail, sign a petition against deforestation, work to protect the wildlife… You know… Give a shit and do something about it. Of course, this could just speak to the way our culture has gone way downhill in our relationship to mothers, but that’s a different discussion; this discussion is about how sexy nature is. Nothing gets the human attention like sex, and why not? We need the earth like we need our lovers — we pine for it when we’re not in it, we need it to survive, and we literally can’t live without it. This is serious. This is personal.
And baby I’m ON FIRE for it. The thing about Annie and Beth is that they don’t sit around talking about environmental imperatives or how much it sucks that people don’t get how sexy rocks can be—they go out and they show people. They get naked on beaches and let the ocean pound them doggystyle. They make crazy outfits to celebrate their love for nature, and then they put them on display. The make art installations at ecological activism rallies. They live and breathe the art that is their activism, and they are fucking sexy. There’s nothing hotter than passion, no matter where that passion is pointed, and there are few things I care about as much as human sexuality and the environment. So, fuck yeah, let’s marry that shit together and let’s do this thing, with passion, with creativity, with love, and with sex. Lots and lots of sexy, sexy, sex.
June 20, 2012 in conflicted eXXistence blog, Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, Reviews, WHACK! Magazine
HYSTERIA
Informant Media
Directed by Tanya Wxler
STARRING Hugh Dancy, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Jonathan Pryce, Felicity Jones, Rupert Everett, Ashley Jensen, Sheridan Smith, Gemma Jones
I heard about the film Hysteria last year, and I lost my shit. I’d read about the practice of treating women diagnosed with “hysteria” — the Victorian catch-all term for everything from headaches to lethargy to aggression in women — with hands-on stimulation to the vulva until they reached “paroxysm” years before, and I’d been astounded that this singular piece of history was largely unknown, even to my most sexually-educated friends. Let me restate: in Victorian England, male doctors manipulated women’s vulvas with their hands until they came as a medical procedure to help relieve the symptoms of “hysteria,” AKA sexual frustration. It was so unthinkable to the male establishment that women might have anything like needs in their crotches that this incredibly intimate procedure was thought of as not sexual. It was a treatment only, heavy breathing, moaning, and sweating notwithstanding. Doctors were having, obviously, a hard time meeting demand — after all, a man has only so many hands and hours in a day — and so the vibrator was invented as a doctor’s tool, and eventually as a household aid for women everywhere. And a movie was being made about this piece of insane medical history! To educate the masses! And Maggie Gyllenhaal, one of the most outspoken and sex-positive A-listers out there, who speaks her mind and, shit, stars in movies like Secretary, was going to be in it?! This movie was going to blow minds all over the place. Brains and conceptions about female sexuality were going to be exploding in movie theaters across the country!
So, naturally, I went to see it, and now I’m reviewing it so I can write the movie ticket purchase off my taxes. And… Hm… The movie is a romantic comedy, and it kind of made my teeth hurt. Which is to say that it’s saccharine sweet, and is so busy being adorable and wink-wink-nudge-nudge-y about its scandalous subject matter that it ignores many of the big questions and problems inherent in said subject matter. To whit: were these women experiencing pleasure, as we now know it? Or is pleasure really subjective — i.e., if you’re not told that a clitoral orgasm is sexually pleasurable, then do you assume that that you’re experiencing is just a release of anxiety and not the same as what men experience when they bust a nut? Did men really think women weren’t orgasming, or was it only morally acceptable that they were touching these women’s nether regions if they pretended to think women didn’t come like that? And, perhaps most importantly, did women really leave their hats one while being jerked off by their doctors?
I was annoyed with the treatment of Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character, Charlotte Dalrymple, too. Gyllenhaal, I think, is hugely underutilized as an intelligent and powerful leading female. This woman obviously believes in the causes of women’s lib and sex positivity, and her performances often show it. But in this movie, the strength of her performance is overshadowed in the midst of a somewhat silly plot and even sillier writing that seems more concerned with getting the audience involved in the rom-com cuteness than showing the reality of the situation in Victorian England — which was that women were treated like second-class citizens, just like all the poverty-stricken, uneducated charity cases that the character of Charlotte is hell-bent on helping. Her charity work is portrayed as almost a backdrop against the fact that she’s really who Dr. Granville (Hugh Dancy) should be with. That’s really the whole point of the movie, and I’m sure that’s why there’s so much parallelism between Dr. Granville giving bored and frustrated upper-class women hand jobs, and Charlotte laboring to provide hot meals, education, and medical treatment for the poor — we’re meant to understand that rich women and all sexes of poor people were treated as subhuman in those days, and that the vibrator helped liberate… some of them. (Read: the rich ones with clitorises.) But it seems so simplistic.
I guess that, given that the real tale of Victorian societal ills isn’t wrapped up neatly by the romantic ending of Hysteria, there’s a reason the filmmakers went with romantic comedy instead of, say, sweeping drama, as a genre choice. It’s easier to tie up the loose ends of Charlotte getting her £2,000 to start up a clinic with her soon-to-be-husband Granville while the women of London learn to rub one out at home, than it is to point out that economic disparity continued on a disgusting level in England well into the 20th century, and still exists all over the world. And since Granville and Charlotte’s ending is so cute, let’s focus on them. Sigh.
I really shouldn’t be so mean or hopelessly liberal. As a matter of fact, I don’t know why I’m complaining. After all, here’s a mainstream movie about women learning to claim sexual pleasure for themselves in Victorian England. It’s funny, and it’s fun, and it’s all about my favorite subject: women coming. Here’s an elbow jab in the ribcage of the antisex establishment. The movie gets away with its subversive support of female sexual pleasure because it’s a comedy, and it’s playing all over the country, albeit in indie theaters mostly, and it’s getting major headlines. This is actually a big step for the discussion of sex as pertains to women—because although there are more kinds of vibrators available these days than you can shake a Magic Wand at, there’s still a whole heaping shit-ton of misconceptions about female pleasure out there. The more people making movies and talking about it, the better. I mean, here’s a movie that lets itself chuckle at how hard men have tried, for so long, to make women feel good, and how they just weren’t sure how to do it (imperial and patriarchal and dastardly overtones aside) for so long. As Jon Stewart put it, the movie “takes place in a long-ago time when men made the decisions about women’s health without the necessary knowledge or the emotional ability” to do so. Hm. Sound… familiar? But there I go, getting serious again.
You know what? I think I’m just grumpy because I’ve never gotten to review a vintage vibrator.
—Miss Lagsalot
June 18, 2012 in Interviews, Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, Sinterviews, WHACK! Magazine
I can’t believe I didn’t post this simultaneously on WHACK! and on here! But maybe this is better, because after all, Courtney Trouble is one of the coolest people I know in the adult biz, and one I’m proud to call a close colleague. So double-posting might get her big announcements and even bigger plans double the attention! Courtney–love ya!
WHACK! MAGAZINE Hi, Courtney, it’s been a while since we talked for the benefit of the readers of WHACK! Magazine, and you’ve had quite a lot going on! What have you been busy working on?
COURTNEY TROUBLE I have been busy being a major slut, that’s for sure! SO much porn performing. Also, the boring half of that: restructuring my businesses.
W! Really! Tell me more… *drool
CT Tell you more about being a major slut? My pleasure! My scene with Jiz Lee just went up on QueerPorn.TV, I did a scene with James Darling that just went up on NoFauxxx, and I’v got scenes with Dia Zerva, Paris Kenneddy, Bianca Stone, Charlie Spats, and more coming up in the next month or two. Also, planning two scenes with non-trans guys: Wolf Hudson and Ned Mayhem… that’s a pretty big deal, yeah?
W! Wow, busy lady!
CT The rest of my life outside of fucking on film is all super business-related. Designing websites and planning parties, like my pride party on June 24th, Queerly Beloved!
And my wedding and 30th birthday both coming up in August and September, whoa!
W! Holy wow. We have a lot to talk about!
CT Let’s start where you wanna start 
W! Ok, first: I have a crush on pretty much everybody you just mentioned. Were any of them, or will any of them be, first times working together for you?
CT Aside from Jiz Lee, I had never fucked or performed with any of these people. Just work crushes come true!
W! Wow, so you’ve been in bliss during that side of your life. Were any of the scenes particularly amazing (so I can try to get readers to watch them)? Or do you project any amazingness to come?
CT My scene with Jiz Lee for QueerPorn.TV was pretty out of this world. It was our third performance together, and it was pretty much perfect! We shot a lot of footage, but the scene that’s up now is back-to-back fucking with just our hands and bodies. We both soaked the bed with… Jiz! You can buy it on it’s own as a download at queerporn.tv/store
W! I’m so there. Yum yum yum…
CT And use WHACK to get 20% off any clips in that store while you’re at it! (Til the end of July.) Cuz I love you guys.
W! Squee! Thanks! Well, let’s move on to the second part of this cornucopia of awesome: restructuring your business? In what way?
CT Well, since we last spoke, I have released two DVDs on my own line, TROUBLEfilms. I have also picked up some other films by other directors for distrobution, including Tobi Hill-Meyer’s trans woman porn film Doing It Ourselves. Pulling my two membership porn sites QueerPorn.TV and NoFauxxx.com into the mix, there’s a lot of stuff to keep track of! I am also bringing two more porn sites into the TROUBLEfilms family really soon, on a supervisory level, including one that’s a specialty site for fans of FTM trans porn and directed by the amazing James Darling.
I’m literally making SO MUCH PORN. NoFauxxx.Com, of course, turns ten years old this year, and I have to say this somewhere… I am restructuring the entire website, including renaming it IndiePornRevolution.com — but that’s an informal announcement.
W! Wow, NoFauxxx is going to be ten years old? That’s monumental. A smallish porn site lasting that long is huge in any case, but groundbreaking queer porn? That’s really something. Why do you think it’s lasted so long?
CT It’s lasted this long because it is a labor of love through and through. People see that, and support it. There has never been a lack of customers, or a lack of people who want to perform for the site! The only reason it ever would have died is if I had decided to move on from porn, or moved on to making more mainstream porn. But the truth is that the mainstream loves NoFauxxx.com (or Indie Porn Revolution — I guess I should get used to that!) — as soon as they see what I’m talking about, people immediately get it, and enjoy it. That’s why I’m changing the name — to reflect what’s really happening with this kind of porn. It’s not scary or dark or twisted — there’s something for everybody. It’s kind of like indie music or indie film — untouched by Hollywood tropes, classic, tasteful, edgy, and above all real.
W! Absolutely. NoFauxx is a classy name, but I do think that you’re on to something with Indie Porn Revolution. Over just the few years that I’ve been aware of and following alt/indie/queer/feminist/etc porn, it’s gotten bigger and better and more popular. I can hardly imagine the changes you’ve seen in ten years.
CT I mean, it just didn’t exist. And now it’s everywhere. Ten years ago Alt Porn was being born, but this whole softer side, the indie side, was completely missing. Alt porn was hard and harsh and very, very niche. A real “alternative porn” didn’t exist. Softer bodies, softer sexualities didn’t exist.
W! Have you ever had a moment where you thought maybe you would move on, to more mainstream porn or out of that line of work altogether?
CT Nah, never. I mean, I make projects that are easier to sell all the time — heterosexual stuff, lesbian stuff. I have a ton of it! But my version of mainstream or “normal” includes intelligence, diversity, and decency. So if I was able to be “mainstream” and also keep those values, then I suppose I’d already be there. But I love being my own boss too much to go make porn for a big company, is the honest truth. I hate censorship. And I don’t put myself through that, even if it hurts my sales.
W! Honestly, I think that what you put together with NoFauxxx and all your other projects may have been a model for people in more mainstream porn, especially business-wise. You’ve always kept it small, done it your way, and managed to keep afloat. I think that may be the future of all porn. Do you think I’m crazy or on to something?
CT I think that you are both crazy, and on to something.
W! Haha, yes!
CT People are looking specifically at my business model right now and wondering, “How do we do that?” But the problem is then they say, “How can we profit from that?” And that’s where they slip up. I can pay my rent and bills and I can buy food and clothes and whatnot, but that would simply not be enough for a majority of the people drawn to production jobs in the adult industry, I’m betting.
W! True. Which is maybe where the more political and artistic visions of a lot of people in indie porn come in. Not to be glam, but to say something.
CT Indie porn, like indie film and music, comes directly from the heart to your receptive parts. It’s made because for the artist, it just simply has to be made. There’s no way around it. I either make this or I die. Maybe that sounds intense or dramatic but it’s true. And my audience benefits from that. I’m simply lucky that I make any money from this at all, because otherwise I’d be doing it anyways, but for nothing. (Not to say steal my work; please don’t.)
W! Haha, of course not! Get it by typing WHACK! and getting a discount. So you’ve got a lot of landmarks coming up… 10th anniversary of NoFauxxx, soon to be Indie Porn Revolution… 30th birthday… and… wedding?!
CT Yea! A decade of porn, three decades of me, and a wedding.
W! Wowza. Is it going to be like the most epic queer bonanza of awesome ever?
CT That’s sounds like my bachelor party but yes! It will be romantic and quirky.
W! Well I hope we all get to see at least a few pictures.
CT I will save one or two wedding photos for public release. My relationship is for sure part of my private life though for the most part. Unadvertised. My partner’s not in the adult industry, and I’d like to keep it that way! Jiz Lee and Billy Casto are planning my bachelor party…
W! Holy moly, that’s going to be fun. Speaking of parties….
CT YES! If you want to hear about a real party of the century… On June 24th I’m throwing a huge summertime daytime dance party at El Rio at 3pm for $7. Anybody is welcome to attend. I mean, really. Fly to San Francisco and come to this party. The babes from Cum and Glitter, a live sex show collective, are doing a kinky kissing booth.
W! OoooOOOOoooh…
CT So you can make out, get a lap dance, get spanked – whatever you want I’m sure within means, it can happen to you! That is probably what will most appeal to the WHACK! crew!
W! Hahaha, you know us so well.
CT But also, I WILL BE STRIPPING!
W! Yes, tell me about your performance! I hear this is a big deal because you haven’t been doing it so much recently. (Also because you’re sexy.)
CT I am a trained dancer and used to be both a burlesque performer as well as a nude peepshow dancer at the Lusty Lady, but took a break these past few years to focus on porn. But I’m missing the stage like crazy and will be returning to it, at this party, for the first time ever in San Francisco. I can’t get too deep into my act, but it will be fully nude and involve ice.
W! Oooooooohhhhhh…..
CT For the ladies (and other people who like boys) James Darling will also be doing a striptease… or some kind of performance. He’s kind of a perv, so we’ll see! But I’m looking forward to watching him before my act!
W! Ok I’m kind of drooling on myself. Ahem. Let me regain my composure.
CT laughing
W! Are there other features/performers/enticements? And why during the day?
CT Yes of course. During the day because it will be hot out and it’s a patio party, so you can drink, smoke, make out, and dance hard — just remember your sunscreen! People like to party during the day during San Francisco Pride…
W! You Californians are WHACK!-y.
CT Queer electro hip hop artist Lady Tragik is our headlining performer, she’s a fucking babe and really talented, too. My BFF Jenna Riot is DJing the main part of the party — she’s also a babe. Chelsea Starr is also a babe. Dorian Faust, burlesque queen of the Bay… also a babe. I’m seeing a pattern here. I like babes and I like to throw parties with them.
W! Dorian Faust may also be the coolest burlesque name I’ve ever heard.
CT Yeah totally! She’s AMAZING. She just went up on NoFauxxx.com this week. She’s a Cum and Glitter gal, too.
W! Oooooh, even more reason to visit the site now!
CT I stream all the performances from their crew.
W! Wow, I may have to check on my bank account and see what my options are to get out there for this party.
CT Yes! PLEASE DO! You can buy pre-sale tickets online for $3 off.
W! Not bad a’ tall! I’ll try to funnel some WHACK! readers to it, if nothing else, and I WILL check into plane tickets. So when do you plan to re-launch NoFauxxx as Indie Porn Revolution? Are any of these big things coinciding?
CT If you type in IndiePornRevolution.com into your browser right now, it will take you to the site — it will be a seamless transition. The site will stay exactly the same, perhaps with a new Mission Statement page and video trailer.
W! Ok, so you’re moving right along! Fantastic! Let us know when you’ve got new banners, etc.
CT But I do think that the Ten Year Anniversary and my 30th birthday will be the same thing. You’ll have to interview me closer to the date (Sept 15th) but I’m pretty sure it will involve TONS of porn stars and a swimming pool.
W! Oooh! I can book that in advance. Fantastic! Well Courtney, thanks so much for taking time! I’m so looking forward to all your awesome future stuff.
CT No, thank you! WHACK! is an awesome magazine, and you are an awesome culture-maker for us.
W! Thank you so much! Aw jeez! Squee!
CT xoxoxo
—Sinterview conducted by the always-into-it Miss Lagsalot.
May 17, 2012 in conflicted eXXistence blog, Guest Writers, Masturbation Month, Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, WHACK! Magazine
Hot off the perverted press of j. vegas, my cohort in all sorts of creepy crime and the editorial director of my very own WHACK! Magazine, a note to all the self-loving loonies out there who peruse our (online) pages. Enjoy Masturbation Month, everyone!
Every jack master worth his salt has their own ritual de lo habitual they go through when preparing for a stroke session. Not knowing, and not really wanting to know, exactly what they are, we can only speculate the outlandishly bizarre arrangements you lovers make during a ride down the one-way street of self-stimulation. We can see it now: filthy bathroom, WHACK! magazine wide open, standing Zen-like in front of a box of Kleenex, bowing reverently before pulling out three tissues in rapid succession with one hand then placing them precisely in the other so as to make a neat little jizz mitt with which to catch your offering to the gods of degeneracy—or something like that. From there, it’s anyone’s guess. One thing’s for sure; if a sinful girl like [insert porn star name] can’t bring you to your knees, it’s about time to administer last rites.
There’s always somethin’ cookin’ in the cooze kitchen of all you goo chefs out there. Your insatiably salacious appetite can never be satisfied, no matter what amount of piping hot perversions WHACK! happens to be servin’. Day in and day out, you put on the fuck feedbag, gorging yourselves with our signature smut until you burst. Sure, it starts out reasonably enough—whetting your wurst with a wedge of sleaze, maybe a few whore d’oeuvres for good measure, but once the taste for trim has been acquired, all hell breaks loose. Before you know it, you’re moving on to a seven-course feel where you ravenous guyenas proceed to devour every dame within arms reach. Go easy on yourselves, fellas. You gotta save room for dessert.
May 10, 2012 in Lynsey G, Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, Reviews, Ribald Reviews, WHACK! Magazine
Seriously. Ick.
I’m bummed, you guys. I’ve been agonizingly making my way through Fifty Shades of Grey, the erotic BDSM romance novel that’s been taking the book market by inexplicable storm in the past few months, grimacing at every new sentence’s poor construction and rolling my eyes exaggeratedly, snorting derisively, and drumming my fingers impatiently through its way-too-many pages while reading it in public to show that I’m not reading this drivel for pleasure… All while quietly relishing the joy I would eventually take in ripping it limb from limb, page by page, word by shittily-penned word. I was really looking forward to sinking my teeth into its squishy underbelly of abysmal construction, dreadfully underdeveloped characters, and nails-on-a-chalkboard dialogue. I couldn’t wait to ream it for its Twilight fan-fic origins, question how bad the Twilight saga itself must be to inspire such insipid drivel (having, proudly, never opened a Stephanie Meyers novel, thankyouverymuch, I wouldn’t know). I was positively drooling with anticipation at recounting some of the worst lines, finding a PDF and getting a count of how many times the lead character (I hesitate to use the word “heroine” here, because that seems to imply some sort of, well, heroism, which our poor, simple Anastasia Steele is clearly lacking) uses the word “jeez.” No, I’m not kidding. “Jeez” appears, I’d say, an average of twice on every page, and seems to be a stand-in for the development of a real speech pattern that might belie a real character. I was getting all moist thinking about how I’d rip Fifty Shades of Grey a new asshole for its unrepentant reliance on gender stereotypes in a totally irresponsible way. I was reading it out of sheer excitement to rip the whole thing to shreds.
I was so ready to do all this because the book was so terrible that I didn’t care how many times it’s already been taken apart syllable by screechingly awful syllable in review after review. I was even going to link to Fifty Shades of Suck, the Tumblr blog that has kept me company on several agonizing nights of reading (and which, incidentally, does some of the work I was going to do by posting the most redolently repulsive lines from the book and mercilessly taking them to task). I was so ready for this!
Because the whole point was that, at the end, I was going to bring it back around to point out that, despite the fact that it breaks my poor, tender, English Lit–major heart that millions of human brains are being subjected to such dreadfully-written slop… those millions of brains are also being exposed to the idea that BDSM relationships aren’t totally fucked-up. That people who play with kink, submission, domination, bondage, and the like, aren’t all freaks. Despite the fact that Fifty Shades of Stupid, as far as mechanics and vocabulary are concerned, could have been written by a sixth-grader with a Thesaurus in the next room for (very) occasional reference (and an advanced knowledge of flogging technique), it’s educating people on the dynamics of BDSM relationships and introducing them to ideas that are presented in an easy-to-digest, if not exactly palatably prepared, fashion. And though the characters themselves are something more akin to the incredibly vapid shadows of real human beings, they’re understandable. They’re approachable. They’re easy to understand for any soccer mom (apparently the main demographic devouring this book—if the state of chain restaurants in middle America says anything about their palates, this makes a lot of sense) or office drone. And as much as I want to sneer at the idea of soccer moms and office drones exploring kink on the recommendations of the borderline-moronic narrator Anastasia Steele, it kind of warms my heart. It makes me want to hug everybody and go, “See? Kink isn’t bad! It’s awesome, and it works for a lot of people. And that’s ok! Let’s all join hands and sing ‘Kumbayah’! I love you guys!”
So really, in the end, though I’d stop short of recommending this book to anyone with anything like taste in literature (even smutty literature — I like me a good romance novel as much as the next pervert), I was going to champion its leveling of the playing field for kinksters and squares alike. Because that sure as shit seemed to be where the predictable plot was going.
But it pulled a 180 on me, dude. It took the rug out from under me. See, here’s the thing: the story is about a totally naïve and possibly idiotic college-grad virgin, Anastasia Steele, falling for and being fallen for by an impossibly wealthy and ridiculously attractive slightly-older CEO who has a thing for domination in the bedroom. He wants her to be his sub. He draws up a contract. They negotiate over it, and in the process they fall in love. She is a total dumbass about it and refuses to believe that he has real feelings for her, because she’s freaked out by his “Red Room of Pain” and worried that he’s a damaged, formerly sexually abused, unreachably fucked-up freak. But she’s in love with him, and falling harder every time he — get this — makes a compromise with her about his usual relationship model. He’s willing to sleep in a bed with her, kiss her, caress her, take it easy on her the few-and-far-between Dom/sub scenes they act out. He likes her. But she’s kind of stupid and it’s taking them forever to just come to some kind of agreement whereby she gets to be more than just his sub and he gets to experience a more nuanced kind of emotional exchange than his BDSM lifestyle has given him hitherto.
See where this is going? Obvi. If you’re an incurable optimist like me, and you love kinksters and sex-positivity, you assume they’re going to end up happily mated in a compromise that might hint at how relationships are complicated but beautiful things worth working for, and that people who like whips and chains aren’t totally beyond the reach of love. Right?
Wrong. The book may be drivel. It may be hopelessly horrible. It may be so bad that even during the sex scenes we get lines like, “Oh boy, I think my heart is going to jump out of my chest, and I’m melting from the inside out, desire coursing through me. Could I be any more excited?” (Seriously. Page 487. Look it up. And yes. The motherfucking book is over five hundred pages long. And I read all of it. For you.) But it sure didn’t follow the script. It surprised me at the end. Because for all of its seeming understanding of the beauty that alternative relationship models can offer… for all the hope I had for it to slay misconceptions about how fucked up D/s people must be to engage in that type of behavior… It totally cut me off. It totally ended with Anastasia leaving her poor, bereft, just-wanting-to-be-loved-but-not-sure-how-to-do-it paramour. It totally ends with heartbreak.
Now I do understand that this the first in a trilogy. I have no doubt in my mind that the next two books go on to at least somewhat make up for the fact that this book seems to reinforce every fucked-up notion about how fucked up people in the kink lifestyle are, and how far away from “normal” people they are, and how relationships between vanillas and kinksters are doomed. I’m sure that’s what’s going to happen in books two and three… At least I have some hope that it will. But if E. L. James, or anyone else, thinks I’m going to sit through two more books full of that willful maiming of the English language, waste hours more of my goddamn precious fucking time to find out what happens… They are motherfucking wrong.
Good day, sir! I said good day!
This review was first published on WHACK! Magazine.
April 20, 2012 in Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, Special Report
Originally published by WHACK! Magazine.
In joyful recognition of the WHACK! staph’s favorite holiday, I decided to do some digging into the smoky haze of just what the hell is going on with weed and sex. Marijuana has a hugely varied and controversial effect on people: I, for instance, get incredibly hyper when I smoke (not that I ever do, being a law-abiding citizen and all), while others find weed a way to relax to the point of stupor. Obviously a substance that can affect people so differently must have a similarly wide range of sexual effects. But since the stuff is illegal for recreational use in most places, and since the Feds really despise the reefer, it’s hard to find reliable information that says anything but “pot will kill your boner.”
Seriously, google “marijuana and sex.” See all those articles about erectile dysfunction and Mary Jane? Seems to me some pharmaceutical companies and some powers that be really want you to believe that toking on the regular will wither your willy. Buy some ED drugs if you smoke pot! Or just don’t smoke pot! But dear sweet baby jeebus, don’t smoke pot and have amazing sex, because as a man you don’t already have enough anxiety about your ability to perform! (Can you infer my eyes rolling here? Cause they’re totally rolling.)
And, unsurprisingly, there’s no information whatsoever on weed’s effect on the fairer sex. Women and weed seem to not have any relationship whatsoever, according to the research. Either that, or it’s just too complicated to figure out. Like every other thing about female sexuality. And we won’t even attempt to look for info on trans people’s experience with whacky tabacky — that’s far beyond the abilities of modern science. Uck. (Again with the eye rolling.)
But hey, it’s 4/20. I’ll shut up about all the serious science stuff and feed you some fabulous news along with your yearly intake of Ding-Dongs, Cheetos, and Funyuns: weed won’t destroy your dingaling, dry up your doo-dads, or raze your randiness—at least not at a physical level. It can be a highly effective aphrodisiac for plenty of people, and we have a sneaking suspicion that if you’re a regular reader of WHACK! Magazine, you’ve got a penchant for puffing. So light one up, grab the Vaseline, and burn one down, motherfuckers. Or, if you can wait for a few hours till your hunny bunny gets home to get high, follow these five tips from Pot Couture to rutting on reefer.
—Miss Lagsalot
April 19, 2012 in conflicted eXXistence blog, Miss Lagsalot, Nonfiction, Product Reviews, Reviews
This post was written for WHACK! Magazine.
The first thing I feel I need to say here, for clarity, is this: I am not a furry. Seriously, I’m not. And I don’t say that because I’d be ashamed if I was — furries of the world, do yo’ thang! I think you’re rad. I just don’t count myself among you because I don’t find dressing up as an animal turns me on. Ok, now that that’s out of the way: I do have a thing about tails. I’ve always thought it’d be cool to have a tail as an extra balance (which is to say that it couldbe possible that I’m a little clumsy and could use an extra appendage to help me out with that, maybe) and as an indicator of mood. It’d be so fun to be able to let that extra little tail-twitch warn people to back off when I’m annoyed, or for that languorous coil to welcome them when I’m relaxed. You know? Wouldn’t that be awesome? Maybe it’s just me. But, yeah, while I’m not exactly into role-playing as a cat, I have long thought it’d be fun to play with some of the cooler parts of being, say, a fox.
And then I found out that Crystal Delights, my favorite maker of all things high-end, glass, and anal, was making anal plugs with tails! And I jumped on that shit like a fox on a nest of newborn pica! (Seriously, have you ever seen that Planet Earth episode with the Tibetan fox? That guy does not fuck around. Also, pica are ungodly cute. Someone’s got to put them in their place.) I mean, a luxury butt plug? Yes, please and thank you. A luxury butt plug with a frickin’ fox tail on it? Not only is that luxury like luxury never luxuried—it is just so cool. I don’t have a better word for it. It’s the definition of cool. My butt, I felt sure, would forever feel like the coolest butt around once I’d introduced it to my new Crystal Delights Minx Tail.
Of course, if I’m being perfectly honest, my ass is already convinced it’s the finest derriere within a ten-mile radius, anyway. But having a fox tail it can choose to wear? My toosh’s head is going to get so big, you guys.
So when the tail arrived, I was so excited that, had I already had a tail, it would have been frantically wagging and knocking everything in my apartment over. But then! Two immediate shockers:
1) I realized that because this is not, in fact, a real appendage to my body, I cannot actually move it. This is one of those things that you know in a logical way before the fact, but that you hold out an irrational hope about until it’s staring you in the face. Inevitable not to be let down, but still. Siiiiigh.
2) This is, though it’s not really my tail, a very real tail. It is made of real fur. I’m not sure what might have given me the notion that a butt-plug-tail from a company that makes plugs featuring large Swarovski crystals (one of which I already own) and uses only the highest-grade materials in everything, would use faux fur. This is a luxury item, made by a company deeply invested in making its products beautiful, finely wrought, and utterly scrumptiously luxurious. Of course the tail was going to be made with real fur. Perhaps it’s just my generally vegetarian, not-leather-wearing nature to assume that things I introduce to my butt won’t be made of real animals—I don’t know. I had just not given that possibility any real thought before the tail arrived.
It’s not that I have a problem with fur, per se. It’s that, if I’m going to own fur, I like to know exactly where it came from. So I asked Shellie over at Crystal Delights, and she told me that all the fur used in their tails is scrap material from a small, family-run fur company that would otherwise be forced to discard the unused parts of the hides! SCORE! Crystal Delights is making sure that no part of the beautiful animals that are being raised for their fur is going to waste, and I get one of my dreams to come true by using their products! The company’s statement on the matter, to whit:
“We at Crystal Delights do not condone the killing of an animal for its coat and we believe that some day the fur trade will be abolished, and we support that, but until that time, we believe that all parts of the animal should be used and not simply discarded as waste. Crystal Delights donates a portion of tail profits annually to animal charities to continue our charitable mission.”
So, not only is there now a fox tail in my butt, but it is a fucking ethically-gotten, charity-generating, scrap-material FOX TAIL and it fucking matches my HAIR and I am prancing all over my apartment like a wild animal and it is FANTASTIC. The plug is beautifully made, the fur is so, so soft that I kind of moan every time it tickles the back of my thighs, and the glass is so smooth it feels like silk in there. I think I’m starting to understand the meaning of “luxury item.” I think this means that my butt will now not be able to talk to any of the other butts it meets, unless they have caviar, champagne, and real-fur tails also. My ass is just too high-class for anything else these days. It’s turned a corner into luxury-only snobbery, and there’s no going back.
However, it may also have discovered that we are, in fact, a furry…. More to come on this topic, I’m sure. I have some… research… to do.
—Miss Lagsalot
March 17, 2012 in Nonfiction
Not to get all super-serious or anything, but some of you might have noticed that the US has been involved in some sort of military things for a little while. Sean Labrador y Manzano edited a collection about that, and I am part of it. Check out Conversations at the Wartime Cafe on Amazon.
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