I may be a bit cranky over the next several days. Beware of this.
Just so y’know.
March 31, 2007 • 8:34 pm 1
March 20, 2007 • 9:35 am 12
and I won’t be around much between now and next Monday. I’ll pop in when I can.
Everything’s fine, no need to worry.
March 20, 2007 • 9:28 am 1
(Or: Eine Klein Sex Music)
I’ve been tormented for days now by one question:
What does one do when one has the opportunity to use Janie as a mouthpiece? There are so many delicious possibilities. JanieBelle as a mouthpiece. Mmmmmm…
Should I begin a new erotic story about the taste of her skin and the hunger of her lips and the sharpness of her fingernails as they rake across my back.
Or perhaps to wax poetic on the intelligence of Intelligent Design? (Now that would be difficult, but it might be worth it if only for the exasperated look it would no doubt evoke on her beautiful-fictional face!)
Should I post a naked photo or a new erotic poem?
Should I let myself rant about the arbitrary ridiculousness of the “mature” designations that cause my blog to be removed from global tag pages?
Should I recount the very hot, very satisfying playtime I had the other day, on the floor, in front of the mirror, toys and lube arrayed in a semicircle at my’s side, that ultimately left my legs shaking, and relieved that I remembered the towel and prevented an enormous wet spot from soaking the carpet?
There are so very many things I could do with Janie as a mouthpiece. And those are just the ones that involve her blog 😉
I am not going to do those things, though. Those are things that I can do on my blog and can share here, too. So I shall, but later. While I have Janie as a mouthpiece I am going to do something that I have never once done on my own blog. Something that my blog is simply not organized to do. I am going to promote something. I want you to know about a band I have recently discovered and that I absolutely adore.
They’re Nekked. And they’re really the sexiest male vocalists I’ve heard, and their music is the perfect music for fucking to. (See, when one has Janie as a mouthpiece, and Janie’s mouth — or rather her fingers — have already gotten her marked as “mature” one can even say “fuck.”)
But I was raving about Nekked. Nekked is two men, two beautiful, sexy gay men, JC Faust and Sinn. I met them at a party. They are a couple. They are totally head over heels about each other. And they are really brilliant musicians with really sexy voices. I gathered they were into the leather scene. (I love leather boys!) Their first EP cover had a picture of a mouth, wide open, with a ball gag in it. (I loved that photo. I don’t know why that didn’t make it onto the cover of their full length CD, A Barrier of Skin. Sinn? JC? What happened to the ball gag? I mean granted, you couldn’t sing around it, but we could at least enjoy the image!)
They are an indie-electronica-pop kind of duo. They make music that has pounding-driving-electronic-rhythms overlaid with smooth-haunting-seductive-enticing voices. There are times when, listening to their CD again last night, that I felt like they were standing right behind me, whispering in my ear. There were other times when I felt like I was the voyeur, watching them perform intimate acts of self revelation, stripping away layers of themselves. And there were times when I felt like I was being drawn into a powerful collective-erotic ritual.
The music on A Barrier of Skin ranges over an incredibly broad emotional landscape and yet every bit of it has a sexual undercurrent that tugs me along and tosses me from one side of the stream to the other.
There is the beautiful-erotic-wistful “A boy can dream”:
I was dreaming about you/ out there in the waves, / all alone, with the whores/ and gods who are children. / I was dreaming about you, / and slowly I became you, / seeing through your eyes, / hearing through your ears, / and singing through your mouth …
and a boy can dream…
he can dream of boys, / he can dream of girls / of errant moons and perfect worlds / he can dream of all the dreams / that he’s been taught to live without / and he can dream of love, / oh yes he dreams of love / love without doubt.
(click here to listen to a clip)
There is the hauntingly, painfully sad “Sleeping with the lights on, written in memory of Matthew Shephard, the young University of Wyoming student who, in October 1998, was brutally beaten, pistol whipped, bound to a fence and left for dead by two guys who claimed they thought Shephard had come on to them. He was found, barely alive, 18 hours later, and died in the hospital a few days later. His attackers said they had gone temporarily out of their minds because Shephard had come onto them):
eighteen hours, and I’m feeling kind of sick, / feeling somewhat strange. / I remember a car, a truck or a bar / I remember a pistol cracking into my head.
*hey boy, won’t you come along with me, and / I’ll show you how the world ends: / not with a bang, no, not with a bang, / but with a whimper.
(This is all performed with the sound of a heartbeat in the background that becomes dominant just as the song ends. Click here to listen to a clip.)
There is the seductive-angry-introspective-surrender of “Wave that takes me under” (performed with a fast running pulsing pounding beat that made me feel absolutely driven by some unconsciously compelling and universal force):
It’s strange to sit and watch myself do the things I said I’d never do / and it’s easy to regret but so much harder to forget the life I knew / now its buried in the yard, a dirty segret dying hard, a jaded stain / do you remember how we’d laugh until we’d cry / each time we slipped inside that game?
and sometimes I’m a prisoner of my own mind / just flowing in and out with the tide / and I feel like I’ve been waiting here my whole life / for the wave that takes me under one last time.
it’s the whisper in the dark that sends a shiver like a spark through my soul/ it’s the anger from the past reaching out with steely grasp and taking hold/ it’s the rumor of a trust, broken shards of glassy lust in my eyes/ is it acid, is it dust, did my spirit turn to rust, or is it ice
(They have a video for Wave that Takes Me Underthat combines a strangely phallic looking madonna sculpture — the religious icon not the pop star — being threatened by the ocean, red-light xray shots of body parts, and one delightful shot of Sinn — or was it JC Faust — licking the microphone.)
There is the hysterically funny “How come you don’t love me as much as I love myself?” which is really a wonderful commentary on gay men’s personal ads:
I’m VGL so UB2 / don’t waste my time here talking to you / I’m six foot two, blond and blue / well hung and bubble-butt; to god to be true
yeah you know without a doubt / if I could do myself / you know I’d never leave the house.
no S&M, no B&D / no strings, no watersports, and no D&D / don’t bring me hangups, no STDs / don’t bring me anything / that ain’t just like me
yeah you know without a doubt / if I could do myself / you know I’d never leave the house.
(Click here to listen to a clip)
Another amazing thing about Nekked is their ability to cover other songs and transform them into entirely new pieces. Listen to this clip to hear one of my favorite slow, haunting love-song type pieces. It’s actually a cover of the old ABBA song “SOS” but you’ll never recognize it.
I can’t say enough good things about these two incredibly talented men. If you need music to fuck to, get Nekked. If you’re hosting a sex party, get Nekked. If you just want some inspiration for Janie’s next poetry contest, get Nekked.
And then strip off your clothes and dance naked in your living room.
(And maybe I’ll tell you what happened after that in another blog post…)
March 17, 2007 • 10:21 pm 3
I hate writing poetry.
I love finishing a poem, reading it over, then letting other people see it. I love standing up in front of an audience and performing the poem. Basically I love being a poet, with all the trimmings.
But the actual writing of the poem, the struggle with my subconscious to bring forth meaning according to arbitrary rules of metre and rhyme – that’s torture!
The problem with writing poetry (or a play, or my blog), is that the really creative stuff is done by my subconscious; but I have no access to its inner workings. I have to wait, grinding my heels, until it feels inclined to throw me a line, like a lord throwing a bone to his wolfhound. When this happens, I get a sudden, transitory, lifting of the spirits, and another piece to add to the edifice that is my slowly emerging poem. But in solving one part of the puzzle, it creates another. How do I find a rhyme for the line I’ve just been given? I then worry at the line, trying to match it with different words, trying different word orders, or trying to work backwards from the line I’ve got to create a whole verse, without too many ands & buts. After struggling with the English language (and sometimes Scots), and forcing it into a rough shape, my subconscious will then recast the whole thing in one fell swoop, ignoring all I’ve worked on, into a thing of elegance.
(You can really go off some people, can’t you?)
And all the while, the rest of the poem lies ahead of me, uncharted and unfathomed. And I have a constant fear that maybe this time I won’t be able to produce anything worth putting out there. But always, like the hero in a cliffhanger, my subconscious secretes another morsel of literary honey, just to entice me further. It does need me : they’re my fingers on the keyboard!
I get more excited when I get to the last verse – the verse that has to tie everything together with the punch line, or money quote. I know that the bulk of the writing is behind me, and I can relax a bit which seems to help my sub’s communications get through that little bit easier.
And then I’m finished.
I sit back with a big smile. Of course, there are still minor edits to do, but I’m in control there. It’s the writing that I’m not in full control over. I just have to follow where my subconscious takes me.
March 16, 2007 • 4:26 pm 15
The rain poured today, cold cold rain on a warm spring day. It was thunderously loud and calmingly silent at the same time.
With the Dixie Chicks’ Fuck You Anthem in our heads, and nothing but each other on our bodies, Kate and I stood in the back yard and enveloped ourselves in thought and reflection. Together and alone with rhythmic sheets of soul cleansing liquid ice.
Not a word was said between us, yet we shared the universe.
This poetry contest will run until March 31st, and voting will go until April 7th.
Your theme will be:
Quietly naked in the pouring rain.
You can add that as a final line, or just make it the theme or focus and not have that line at all. Have fun!
March 16, 2007 • 2:22 pm 6
March 16, 2007 • 8:38 am 5
The winner of our second poetry contest is Molly Montrevoir! Her prize is also a guest post here on UDoJ, on any topic of her choice. Allow me to reiterate that since we’re de-listed from WordPress anyway, and all “MATURE CONTENT” and all, I’m even removing the proscriptions on “The F Bomb” and pornography.
There were only two entries in this contest, and Deacon Barry’s entry was up two to zip. Molly’s sonnet pulled out a come from behind victory.
Dear Molly, E-Mail me your post, and I’ll get it up ASAP. If you’d like to include a picture or graphic with it, I’ll be happy to include that as well (though I may need to resize it for aesthetic purposes only).
We only seem to be getting a little bit of response on the idea of doing a monthly contest, but it’s all positive so far, so we’re gonna keep doing it and see how it goes. Be ready for the next one!
I’ll see if I can get the next contest up by the end of the day.
Without further ado, here is Molly’s winning sonnet –
Resting comfortably ‘tween her naked breasts,
The cane appears so innocent and spare.
Peacefully exhausted, she, and happy lying there,
To be admired, her endurance passing all tests.
And turning then, I thank our gathered guests
The ones who took this opportunity, so rare
To watch me torment one for whom I care
So deeply. Is it strange that I am not distressed
About the pain I cause my love to feel? And
Yet the blood I let is mine. As if the same
Flesh that clothes her back also clothes my hand:
The hand that held the cane, descending as she came,
That brought her peace through pain and difficult commands;
And touched her gently then. Wild, cruel, now tame.
March 16, 2007 • 8:26 am 6
The winner of our first poetry contest is Deacon Barry! His prize is a guest post here on UDoJ, on any topic of his choice. And since we’re de-listed from WordPress anyway, and all “MATURE CONTENT” and all, I’m even removing the proscriptions on “The F Bomb” and pornography.
Deacon Barry, E-Mail me your post, and I’ll get it up ASAP. If you’d like to include a picture or graphic with it, I’ll be happy to include that as well (though I may need to resize it for aesthetic purposes only).
janiebellemcknight AT yahoo DOT com (I guess I need to put that up on the blog somewhere, huh?)
Without further ado, here is Deacon Barry’s winning entry –
When Man first felled and burned the trees,
I began my rise.
Then coal was king, and chimneys belched
More carbon to the skies.
Along came petrol engines,
And how emissions grew.
(Solar power was in the dark,
And windmills spoiled the view.)
The polar ice-caps melted in a great freshwater dump,
The Gulf Stream slowed and halted as it stopped the saline pump.
The rise in temperature was paused And people thought they’d freeze,
Then tons of melting methane pushed it up by ten degrees.
And now, with agriculture gone,
And arid deserts burning,
My happiness is incomplete,
I still can feel a yearning.
Though I sit triumphant
As the world regrets my birth
Oh how I long to long
For the green, green hills of Earth.
March 15, 2007 • 7:15 am 0
In our two poetry contests. Get your votes in before 11:59 PM EDT tonight!
March 14, 2007 • 4:33 pm 8
General Peter Pace, the Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, announced on Monday his personal opinion that simply being a gay or lesbian person is immoral, and that the military should therefore continue to refuse gays and lesbians the opportunity to serve in the military. Well, to be more precise, he supports the official military policy, that gays and lesbians can sign up, as long as they’re willing to crawl into the military closet and deny who they are.
The current “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy is immoral because it openly requires dishonesty, and treats gays and lesbians as second class citizens. It is unconstitutional because it punishes by exclusion gays and lesbians, not because of what they’ve done, but because of who they are; this type of “status crime” was years ago determined unconstitutional by the US Supreme Court.
General Pace’s delicate moral niceties are archaic. Barry Goldwater, the bastion of all that’s conservative, and 37 year veteran of the military, announced years ago his support of the right of gays and lesbians to be in the military:
The big thing is to make this country, along with every other country in the world with a few exceptions, quit discriminating against people just because they’re gay. You don’t have to agree with it, but they have a constitutional right to be gay. And that’s what brings me into it…. why the hell shouldn’t they serve? They’re American citizens. As long as they’re not doing things that are harmful to anyone else.
Vice-President Dick Cheney, while Secretary of Defense under the first President Bush, called security concerns about gays and lesbians an “old chestnut” and referred to the idea that “a gay lifestyle is incompatible with military service” as “a policy I inherited.” These comments were made by Cheney just after his assistant secretary of defense, Pete Williams was outed as a gay man.
The world has moved on ahead of the US. There are at least 26 nations that allow gays and lesbians to serve, including Israel, Australia, the United Kingdom, Argentina, Columbia, and every country in the European Union, which requires all members to abolish any bans on open service.
Pace’s comparison with adultery is specious. According to files received by Salon pursuant to a Freedom of Information Act request the military, under General Pace, is currently providing waivers for at least 17% of incoming recruits, accepting recruits with civilian criminal records including domestic abuse, assault, breaking and entering and auto theft. An outstanding article by Helen Benedict, also published in Salon, documents the pervasive threat of rape and sexual harassment women soldiers in Iraq live with daily. Perhaps General Pace should focus his moral concerns on matters of real substance existing within the scope of his responsibility.
The Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs of Staff has let the world know what he thinks Department of Defense policy should be, based upon his morals. He has also provided encouragement and cover for the continued harassment and abuse of men and women by their fellows and those in their chain of command. Sounds pretty damn immoral to me.
Please note: I am personally against the action in Iraq and support plans to withdraw troops now. I am not advocating for the war in Iraq, but for the right to openly serve in the military without regard to sexual orientation. Tom
IMPORTANT: If you agree with me, write your representatives in Congress and the Senate as well as General Pace, and write your local papers. Register your disapproval with General Pace’s remarks and your support for changing military policy to allow gays and lesbians to serve openly in the military. General Pace can be reached at:
Joint Chiefs of Staff, Chairman
9999 Joint Chiefs of Staff, Pentagon
Washington, DC 20318
Fax: (703) 697-8758
All or any part of this post can be used, with attribution, for any non-commercial purpose to help spread the word.