Jesus wants my butt

'Baby Jesus Butt-Plug
This high-quality silicone butt-plug has the shape of a religious figure. A perfect addition to your holiday creche. We feel they are a light-hearted, humorous look at the relationship between religion and sex, but our more sensitive shoppers may want to skip this page.

Glory to the newborn King! Perfect for altars, creches, baby showers and Secret Santa gifts, the Baby Jesus Butt-Plug is designed complete with swaddling clothes (although if you're going to share him, we suggest that you use a swaddling condom). 4-1/4" long, 1-3/8" in diameter at the widest insertable point. Manger not included. Glow-in-the-Dark White (a pearlescent white). '

All yours from our friends at Blowfish. He glows in the dark! They suggest a swaddling condom! It's all too perfect!!! Ooooooooooooh, has made this little ex-Catholic Girl clench in unholy anticipation. Wouldn't mind finding this one in my Christmas stockings at all... The are also some nice glass butt plugs.

*STOP PRESS* Whoretic (who else?) has informed me that Divine-Interventions
makes our Baby Jesus here, and also a whole pile of other sacreligious sex toys such as the Judas dildo, a Diving Nun that suctions to the wall and God's Immaculate Rod. And the Jackhammer Jesus even comes with his own rap song.

Guys and Dolls

Was having coffee with Mister Hunter and MasterSuze the other day when it was decided that we must go at play in the sex shop upstairs from our fave gelato bar. I was innocently discussing who buys lactoporn, and my lacto project, studies etc with the new owner, when he mentioned that he had something I might be interested in. Did he ever!

As of tomorrow when I collect her, I will be the proud 'owner' of a Lactating Blow-Up Doll (and the Inflate-A-Date pump with which to breathe life into her). She is blonde, of course, with three functional orifices (no points for guessing which) and two vibrating parts (which two I'm not sure). As a quirky extra feature she comes with a pubic hair tattoo which may be applied if you like your girl to be furry. Or at least as furry as a transfer can get. Then, of course, are the BREASTS, which you can fill up with milk and then suckle from them, squirt milk across the room or over your face or... endless hours of mammary moistness and mess!

Think she will be a great performance partner. But what to name her? Could do a Daisy, Clover or Bertha 'cow' name I suppose. Or maybe choose one of my 'Milk Fever' cast members such as:

La Milquetta
Fugitive Fluid and Milk Diva. Italian, not shy of melodramatic
displays. Highly theatrical with a biting wit. Prone to histrionic
outbursts and most often found bitching and getting up to no good with
Bludzilla.

But then again, perhaps I would be more suitable as La Milquetta! Maybe Mamma Milkenstein? Any other suggestions? (BTW I have named my pump Lactentia Sugentia aka The Suckling One). Will post a photo of her once I have collected, inflated, pube-ified and milk-ed her.

Snippets of Slyness

Still bewildered and bedraggled from much beer and bonking, so will just post random odds and ends of last night as both the memories and the motor skills to articulate them return...

New Boots and Panties

Was all frocked up in my Beyond outift of leather top and camos and boots and bondage belt and black hanky, with the obligatary red lipstick and new girly knickers. (Had planned a bit more frou in fishnets and a mere slip of a dress, but to be bitch on the back of Daddy Nic's big, black and beautiful required something with a little more coverage and ease of movement).

Not to be outdone by the Melbourne bootboy, Mister Hunter brought his kit along last night and gave me the most immaculate and erotic boot job I have ever had. Took it nice and slow, licking and spitting and polishing and licking some more. Think there were a few of the crowd a little confused by the show, but certainly a few folk got what was going on and gave me knowing glances when I staggered disorientated to my feet, floating and unsteady with my eyes glazed over. Some time later when I was talking to his Darkling he came over and pulled the cloth from his pocket, stinking of leather and polish, and held it hard against my nose and mouth so all I could smell and taste was boot. It was like being hit with a hanky soaked in chloroform, and I (almost?) swooned when I breathed it in and fell against D's lap. Bliss! Must learn to do boots myself I think- I do like to be on my knees after all, and there is such a sensual pleasure in manipulating and massaging leather and flesh until both are melded and supple and reborn. And there is an element of service that makes me very wet to think of having someone look down at me while I work on them. Blowjobs and bootjobs.... mmmm....

What's Inside a Girl
Spent a rather messy few early morning hours rediscovering how much I like threesomes, with the aid of the delectable, articulate and downright filthy Mistress O'Mayhem and the WhoreNextDoor. Cunts and fur and breasts and mouths and squishy things and vibrating things and squelchy things and fisty things all tangled up and... 'we must stop this- its not decent!'. Fucked senseless by MOM and then more red-hanky fun with the WND, although this time the glove was on the other fist. Had almost forgotten how much I enjoyed it in there...

Titties and Beer
MOM pointed out this morning that my tits had different personality traits. The right one is much more of a public figure, eager to be flashed about and a bit of a floozy. Whereas the left one is much more private and vulnerable and harder to get attached to. I think she has a point,as they are certainly very different to pump. I wonder if the brew reflects this difference anyhow, softer or smoother or crisper or sharper, and imagine Pale Ale flowing from one breast and Stout from the other. Anyone for a blind milk tasting?

'I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls' (to quote The Cure yet again), but no matter how many others are on my dance card my hearts and parts still ache for The Lost Boy. So many adventures that will never be had, so many games of pool and road trips and tender cuddles and cheeky smiles and delicious bodily entanglements that it seems will not be part of my future. Never did learn to kick that footy after all. Sad, very very sad, about it ending. Yes, perhaps I should learn to be more guarded, not to fall so hard, but maybe those moments of sheer bliss and delight when you allow yourself to totally give in and get swept up in believing in the possibility of something so special are just about worth it. On days like this though it is hard to see the promise, even if you know it is there somewhere.

Private Dancer
A long time ago I had an argument with a security person at a US airport when she assured me that if she had to touch my 'private areas' she would use the back of her hand. I insisted that I didn't have any 'private areas', she repeated her spiel, I repeated my reply and nobody smiled. In general I'm pretty public with my private parts, don't mind who sees me pissing or walks in when I am under the shower. I often dance topless or get my kit off in performances. I've been catheterised on stage, my flesh has been cut and pierced while others watched. Mostly I find it liberating, and a beautiful way to connect with others, to share myself:

And I laid upon the table
Another piece of meat
And I opened up my veins to them
And said come on eat

- Patti Smith 'Summer Cannibals'

But sometimes I just feel drained by all these interactions though, totally bled dry (though I do recognise that I recieve much from others too). Have a huge weekend coming up, full of people and parties and photographs, and don't know if I have enough energy to keep on giving. Think I need to withdraw a little, spend more time on my own, rebuild and renew. Stew in my own juices, so to speak. When I told my lactation consultant that I was grieving a lost love she told me that I must drink my own breastmilk to heal myself. Something about the relationship between aching breast and healing breast that intrigues me...

Love Comes In Spurts
On a totally unrelated note: A flapping mincing screeching gayboy at the hostel last week bailed me up to ask if I 'drank from the furry cup'.Upon hearing that I did, but had a rather bio-boy focussed past, he asked if I missed cock. And I told him no, I still had plenty of cock, and all I missed was jizz (especially now). Thinking of getting a tattoo saying CUM RAG across my arse. Just can't work out a font.

Milk and T

As I mentioned before I had been strangely uneasy about telling me mother about the LactoGrrl Project. Seemed odd to be discussing it with the woman who breastfed me (after birthing me), like it was a 'womanly art' that daughters ought to share with their Mums- but I was cheating at being a woman!? What type of 'pseudo-daughter' am I anyway?

Eventually bit the bullet and told her last night. She didn't even blink. Seemed to be expecting it, especially after having read my Honours thesis. And she knows me well enough not to consider it out of my range of inquiry... was nice to 'get it off my chest'. Although I still waited until everyone was in bed until I pumped it was considerably less nerve-racking. Showed her my pump (with my milk) in it this morning and it was all matter-of-fact chat about when she fed me and my brothers, weaning, expressing etc. Nice, if odd.

On a different note, am enjoying being a bit bigger in the breast department. Having lost quite a bit o weight my tits were a mere shadow of their former glory and I missed them spilling out of dresses and into mouths. Hoping to feed some dear friends tonight, as I want to see what it is like with adults. When I was in Melbourne recently a friend let me try her young child at the breast and it was beautiful, if short-lived 'cos she wasn't getting much (that's us in the photo)...

Also told memy mother about the fact that some of the boys I mention had not always been boys, or at least, had not always presented as/identified as boys.
Mother: 'Transgender?'
Zoo: 'Yeah'.
M: 'So, how does that work with relationships?'
Z: '*GULP* (oh no, trannysex talk coming up!)...'
M: 'Not the physical stuff, but with having relationships as a boy'

Sometimes my mother scares me with her questions. A little too close to the bone! Ouch. Explained as much as I could from my own experiences and readings and observations.

Of course, she then asked me about how I identified. Told her I was omnisexual, which seemed to go down okay. And that I didn't really consider myself female as such, to which she replied taht she figured I hadn't for a while (or words to that effect).

Think she was more disturbed by my new lip spikes than anything else. Tried explaining it was just a different aesthetic and not necessarily about making myself unattractive or disfigured. Oooh, kissed Hunter yesterday with his new spiky labret jewellery and it was most fun. Spikes on spike...

33 Zen Lane

This gorgeous Spring Day is making me think even more than usual of moving North next year...

i'll have a big back yard to run in
and a big oak tree for climbing
and a wrap around porch to sip homemade iced tea
that brewed in the sun while i watched it
i'll whisper my secrets to the wind
their dollars to me won't mean nothing
except maybe to keep the weeds down
in my vegetable garden
my mail will come to 33 zen lane
in a county called rushing river
that's its native name
my family will be my friends
my friends will be my home
you can't call me you'll just have to come
because i won't have a phone
- Bitch and Animal '33 Zen Lane'

Well, my piece of Queer Country Utopia will have a phone, and broadband. And also a big verandah wrapped in fairy lights, wind chimes tinkling in the breeze and big comfy chairs to sit in the shade and read in. A kitchen garden and herbs growing by the back door: garlic, shallots, ginger, tomatoes, passionfruit, watermelons, carrots, zucchini, broccoli, potatoes, kumera, english spinach, lettuce, radishes, corn, avocado, mushrooms, strawberries, basil, coriander, thyme, parsley, lemons, kaffir limes, mandarins, mulberries, bok choy, lemongrass, chilli, rosemary, oregano etc. A hammock built for two or three (or more) in the backyard, and a tyre swing hanging from a tree. Worm farm and compost bin. My big BBQ, and citronella torches to keep away the mozzies while the vegie burgers are cooking. A bonfire for winter and a kiddy pool for summer and totem tennis for any old time. A quirky letterbox. A chook run so I can eat happy hen eggies. Wooden floorboards and plenty of beanbags to flop about in. A study with huge bookshelves and a play room with a rubber floor and toy cabinet and a sling.

Had enough from my tax return to start the 'La Shaggin' Wagon' fund. Just need to get my licence, buy a car, work out Uni, find a place and pack up and get myself up there. Hopefully by April/May next year...

Sleaze Weekend

The high heels of a long weekend
Clatter in the streets below
And somebody got pinned again
Underneath my window

- Hunters and Collecters 'January Rain'

I shan't be at Sleaze of course (gives me a nasty rash) but shall be up to plenty of other activities this coming week/end:

Wednesday- Slutting about at the Newtown and/or Sly as usual.
Friday- Kooky!
Saturday- Yummy Mummy has 21st Birthday drinks. And TheSuze will be BBQing random items at her place. I will be flitting about in between both of these events.
Sunday- Cage dancing and perving and flirting around at Gurlesque. Then Bad Dog for some sparkly-shiny-Zoo-friends debauchery. Purr, prowl, pounce...

G' Morning, G'Mourning

'On the third day, when she had finished praying, she took off her suppliant's mourning attire and dressed herself in her full splendour'
(Esther 5:14)

Grief. Loss. Reincarnation. Rebirth. Phoenix. Flame. There is only so much time I can devote to disintegration. Time to turn my diamante tears into a sparkly new tiara and dance myself back into being.

I Make Milk... What's Your SuperPower?

So proclaims the t-shirt I was wearing yesterday. Got MUCH more of a reaction than I anticipated! In Newtown: 'that's a very cheeky shirt' from an old woman, plus two Reading Out Loud, one from a teenage boy who nearly wet himself when I told him I meant it, and the other from a mother/daughter duo who laughed when they read the back. In Randwick at the Hospital a few mean looks from middle-aged bitches, then a big smile from a Mum with a young kid, then two boys selling phone products stopped me in the shopping centre to ask about it.

I had assumed that not many people would take notice of it, or would presume it was some sort of band promo or the like. I mean, I don't look like most people's idea of a breeder/feeder. And the shirt doesn't have any reference to breastfeeding, so I figured it would be read as a little ambiguous. It seems I was wrong.

Can Your Pussy Do The Dog?

And here is me doing rude things to Schapelle Scrag with a stuffed Garfield at Bifusion last week. Am tempted to make some bad 'bitch'pun but think there's enough folk out there who would do that for me! 'Twas a nice excuse to drag out one of my favourite wigs and a great old Cramps song. Merci to Bumfluff for the pix...

I'm Not In Love

I'm not in love, so don't forget it.
It's just a silly phase I'm going through.
And just because I call you up,
Don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made.
I'm not in love, no no, it's because...

I like to see you, but then again,
That doesn't mean you mean that much to me.
So if I call you, don't make a fuss -
Don't tell your friends about the two of us.
I'm not in love, no no, it's because...

I keep your picture upon the wall.
It hides a nasty stain that's lying there.
So don't you ask me to give it back.
I know you know it doesn't mean that much to me.
I'm not in love, no no, it's because...

Ooh, you'll wait a long time for me.
Ooh, you'll wait a long time.
I'm not in love, I'm not in love...

Thankyou to 10cc for this perfect answer to one or two questions I have been asking of late (and one hase to love a band named after the average man's sperm count). For those of you with a bent towards Karoake here is a particulary stunning musical approximation to sing along to.

(The pic is of me in my RingMistress outfit for the HF show I did with the PolyMorph boys recently)

Beyond (all comprehension)

Beyond was magical.
Two rooms of amazing leathermen, bears and skinheads (in a good way). Shaved heads and furry chests and that smell of testosterone and sweat and amyl and leather and boot polish that is absolutely intoxicating...

Ran into a gorgeous Bavarian boy I knew years ago in Sydney, plus a few SLPA members and other randoms from Sydney. But mostly I danced with the SKP, a spectacular vision of bouncing enthusiam with a tattooed cock and a red rubber surgeons mask-type thing and an endless energy supply. He picked me out of the crowd early on and dragged me over to get my boots done. I had been lurking around the bootpigs set up on a small stage in the corner, breathing in the scent and watching them do their thing. There were two of them, probably in their 60s or so, and they loved their task...

I have never cum from having my boots done before. My boy was gorgeous- grey fur, septum piercing, leather shorts, yellow hanky around his neck and a devilish grin. From the first sweep of the polish-laden brush around my instep I was almost delirious. Something about the sensation of his thigh beneath my foot, and the way he held each boot with such tenderness and reverence sent me reeling. The cloth sliding around the inside of my ankle, up the back of my calf, then him kissing each boot when he was done. My cunt contracting and my nipples hardening and rubbing against my leather shirt. It was that moment when words are superfluous- you both just 'get' it. Could barely stand by the end of it, and needed a hand to get down from the stage. Blushing, grateful, stunned and wondering how obvious my orgasms were to either the bootboy or the crowd watching. Perfect moment.

Then pulled back into the fray. SKP and I ran amuck, dancing, dancing, dancing.

'I don't do girls, but you are enough to turn me bi'. Got quite a few comments about how fabulous it was to see a girl there (and quite a few drinks too). There were a few other womyn, but not leather dykes at all- more the high heels and fetish-y variety of gal. While thrilled at the acceptance and the desire of the boys to make me feel welcome, there was a point where I was down to my camos and collar and boots, shirt off and... I WAS a leatherboy, I WAS a cub- I wasn't a 'chick' anymore and I loved it. Then SPK got down on his knees and licked my boots while I played about with his boybits, I had another boy sucking my nipples and it was all VERY nice. (There was quite a bit of bear-on-bear titpig action happening around the party actually. Swoon)

On a less happy note, I did a rope suspension at the Provocateur art show before going to Beyond. It looked amazing, but I seem to have injureda nerve in my arm and my hand is still weak and tingly on and off. If its not better soon will have to seek medical attention. Boo, hiss. Did look kinda pretty though.

Back in Sydney tonight. Enjoy your BBQs and hangovers and come-downs. Will be frolicking about on Wednesday, and warning you now that I am so horny that you all better watch out... Don't know that I will be able to control any of my primal urges. Any takers?

Everyone Loves You When You're BiNary *EXPANDED AND EDITED*

Boy VS Girl
Pleasure VS Pain
Nature VS Technology
Mind VS Body
EmotionallyEntangledandStiflingMonogamyLoveStuffVS CasualFreeEmotionlessSex

I am in the process of trying to disentangle myself from someone who told me that relationships essentially ran along these latter two distinct models. This scared me, and confused me greatly, because I thought we were constructing something else entirely, believed that I was in the middle of a creative process involving the conception of other/hybrid/mutant ways of relating and not just replicating heteronormative dualisms of Wife/Mistress, Madonna/Whore, Married/Single, Love/Lust ("She's a great root but you wouldn't marry her"). I imagined the end result would be somewhat akin to the Monster Of Ravenna:

... an unfortunate child apparently born in Italy in the early 1500s, who was, according to speculation at the time, the progeny of either a ‘a respectable married woman’ or ‘the union between a nun and a friar’ (Leroi 2004: 2). Seriously deformed, with a horn on its head, hermaphrodite genitalia, and two serpents at its waist, the ‘monster’ was starved to death under order of Julius II.

Think maybe our union did produce something like that (at least in zygote form) . But as with the Monster, it was so unexpected and hard to translate into meaning and threatening to the status quo that someone decided that it must be killed. Starved. (How apt when I am gagging for it!).

So, this has all caused much soul searching and asking of myself what it IS that I actually believe about 'love' and other affairs of the heart and passions. And I came to the conclusion that things are not as Black OR White to me as they appear to be to some. I don't deal well with Either/Or, much preferring to have plenty of 'And' options at my disposal. Years ago I gave up identifying as Bi because I don't 'swing BOTH ways'- I swing MANY ways. I am always getting confused as to where my skin ends and the world begins, where my insides become my outsides. The lines that it seems I am expected to draw between lovers and mates and friends and fuckbuddies and family and casual shags and drinking buddies are always smudged and bleeding over the edges. Blood, cum, sweat, tears, piss, saliva blurring boundaries... and I am happy to wallow in the filth and the messiness and the chaos.

I was thinking that maybe being brought up in a big chaotic and extremely loving family has greatly influenced the way I percieve relationships these days. I know I can share my emotions and my affections and my energies between many people. In varying degrees and distributions, various means and modes- all valid and valued. I can conceive of, and act out, loving more than one person at once. I can love the one person in more than one way. I know that if I feel love for Person B then it doesn't mean I have love Person A any less. Its not a finite source, there is enough for everyone! It expands to accomodate. I can share, because I know there is enough to go around.

Geez, I sound like a hippy. Should fit right in to Lismore then :)

Is that all there is?

The other day, I mis-typed 'casual sex' as 'causal sex'. Freudian slip?

Been wondering lately about the divide some people need to create between 'stifling co-dependent married relationship' and 'casual emotionless fucking'.

Is that all there is? asks Peggy Lee

...And when I was 12 years old, my father took me to the circus, the greatest show on earth.
There were clowns and elephants and dancing bears
And a beautiful lady in pink tights flew high above our heads.
And as I sat there watching the marvelous spectacle I had the feeling that something was missing.
I don't know what, but when it was over, I said to myself, "Is that all there is to a circus?"

Is that all there is, is that all there is?
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is

Then I fell in love, with the most wonderful boy in the world.
We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other's eyes.
We were so very much in love.
Then one day, he went away.
And I thought I'd die- but I didn't.
And when I didn't I said to myself, "Is that all there is to love?"

Is that all there is, is that all there is?
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing...

Here is a tute paper that I wrote in 2004. Think I have quoted part of it before, but its something I need to keep working on. When I read my latest 'relationship' disaster through it I'm not sure what it says about either of us... Can you casually fuck someone you are in love with?

'Casual Encounters, Intimacy and Embodiment- are love and sex really opposites?

Part One- Doing it man-style

Casual sex is sex without feelings, or so the common discourse goes.The thought that it is possible to have sex occurring as an entitydiscrete from love or intimacy, is one that for a long time appealedto me. Especially when I came out as queer, when I started questioningthe ways that society expected me –particularly as a woman- to desire,to fuck, to play, to relate to other genders and my own. For a while Iwanted to prove that I could 'do it like a man', however that was, toprove that the stereotype of woman as not being able to separatephysical intimacy from emotional intimacy did not apply to me. I could be rational, detached, masculine- I could take my mind and emotionsand put them in another place while my body got down and dirty. I could hide from the dangers of 'love' in dark corners and I roamed dance parties and nightclubs, huddled in cubicles with an ACON safe-sex pack and rarely asked for names.I still do this at times, but somehow it doesn't quite feel the same anymore. The labels don't seem to fit properly, don't seem to describethe contents accurately- sure, these affairs are 'anonymous' on a literal semantic level, you might even call them 'casual', but thefact that I don't know what their mothers call my partners doesn't mean that I don't know 'who' they are or that there is no love orintimacy in a fleeting encounter. I love these people through fucking them, by touch and breath and shiver and moan. They are my friends, my family, my community, my lovers.Increasingly, I find the divide between love and lust to be meaningless or contradictory to my life, the borders crumbled, and so here I am now, reading Michael Hurley's discussion of Gay Men and HIV.

Part Two- Is my meat emotional?

I have a tattoo on my hip which reads 'I am not only a human being, Iam a piece of meat', in a suitable purple meat-stamp design. Peoplelaugh when they see it, often nervously, or stare blankly trying todecipher some meaning in the inscription. This is my response to the'I'm not just a piece of meat, I'm a human being' retort I remembergirls screaming at lusty boys when I was younger- I AM MEAT, I AM EMBODIED AND I WILL WRITE THIS ON MY SKIN IN A PERMANENT SCAR, I WILLNOT FORGET THIS. 'Its as though the person experiencing the emotionshas no body' says Hurley as he describes how physical pleasures aredenied a place within understandings of feelings. Lust is the experience of bodily sensations, feeling its greater and bodiless counterpart. 'The mind and the soul become 'higher faculties', the body is 'animal' and feeling is split off from and privileged oversensation', which applied to sexual interactions forces this opposition between sex and intimacy.I can't concede that my emotions are separable from my bones and blood, I insist that my feelings are situated in this carcass. And I am not content to have any of the sex my friends or I have described as less worthy by virtue of its form.

Part Three- Regulation of gay relationships through public health campaigns

The HIV epidemic provided ammunition for governing bodies to furthermanipulate homosexual bodies and relationships through the rhetoric ofpublic health. Hurley argues that public health and health promotionact together to create particular ways of being gay; HIV campaignshave been used through the process of 'govermentality' to createcertain kinds of subjectivities; health promotion becomes a form ofsurveillance. It creates the dichotomy of long-term monogamous sexual relationships and casual sexual encounters, when there is a much morefluid continuum in play for many people, even in the 'normal,straight' world there are relationships that do not fall into eithercategory.'Love and intimacy become the official currency for sex' says Hurley,'say that you love me and you can have my arse'. This expresses the way that some gay people (and other sexually different people) buy into the above dichotomy of sex vs. intimacy, and attempt to fit theirbehaviours into the concepts of sexuality that society affords them.'If we are having casual sex, then at least we will pretend that itmay be something 'more', that it fits into the concept of intimacy that is dictated to us' I can hear them say, as they are coerced into believing that sex without intimacy is dirty, unhealthy,irresponsible- and possible.'Intimacy and love can be asked to mean too much, as can sex' Hurleystates. The HIV education has presumed that long-term partners aremore trustworthy than casual 'fuckbuddies', that risk in arelationship correlates to its duration. This attitude demeans the integrity of the type of sex a lot of gay men have, it denigrates theothers ways of knowing people that society could not be bothered learning. Hurley posits sex on premises venues, with their glory holes and anonymous encounters,as places to learn of other people's pleasures, and to me this is intimacy, it is knowing another. But some forms of knowing are valued above others, and this animal physicality does not carry the respectafforded other types of relating.

Questions to the class:
* Is there such a thing as disembodied love? Can love exist independently from the body?
* Is there able to be intimacy in casual sex? Is it always there? Never?

Reference:
Hurley, M, 2003, Then and Now: Gay Men and HIV, Australian ResearchCentre in Sex, Health and Society, La Trobe University. Melbourne

Curious Yellow?

Pumped again when I got here. Not AS yellow, and a bit more watery, but I took some photos anyway which I will download here when I get back to Sydney. Nobody seemed too excited or suprised about it as I was. Had been told that when inducing you didn't produce colostrum, and in addition to this I presumed that as I had already been getting thin white (fore?)milk that colostrum wouldn't be making an appearance. Have run out of Dom Peridone (or Mo Tillium if you prefer- they both sound like gangsters) and thinking maybe just try to kep going with the fenugreek and see what happens. Not pumping very often while on this trip, and don't want to dry it up completely.

Hmm...

Apparently asparagus consumption may turn my milk black. And green cordial or spinach may turn it green. This MUST be tried!

Four Seasons In One Day

Its what they say about Melbourne, and it sums up my life at the moment quite nicely! Thanks to Crowded House for this one that has been in my head all afternoon:

Smiling as the shit comes down
You can tell a man from what he has to say
Everything gets turned around
And I will risk my neck again, again

You can take me where you will
Up the creek and through the mill
All the things you can't explain
Four seasons in one day

Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day

It doesn't pay to make predictions
Sleeping on an unmade bed
Finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain
Only one step away
Like four seasons in one day

Smiling in the rain

* Last night I came upon some little punk girlies screaming fake orgasms across a main road at passing respectable persons. They jumped when they saw me, told me how great my piercings were and that my purple froou skirt looked made me look like I should be skipping along. Occurred to me that perhaps I should be! But instead did a half-swish half-swoosh along to the tram stop.

* Pumped this morning when I got to the Lactation Resource Centre. What came out was YELLOW. Was mildly weirded out, but didn't photograph it. I should have taken a happy snap, because later that day I was walking past a big board showing you what different types of milk looked like, from different stages of breastfeeding. The first one was colostrum, the stuff that your body produces first thing post-partum and that is thick and full of nutrients. IT IS ALSO BRIGHT YELLOW! Damn, shouldn't have tipped my 'mutant milk' down the sink- should have tasted it at least as it appears it was the really good stuff. Next pumping it was back to being white, which was rather diappointing. Hoping that tomorrow is the same as today so I can take a picture and also show it to the women there. Will probably be grossing some of you out about now, but to me it is VERY exciting! And I bought myself the 'I make milk/What's your superpower?' t-shirt. The women there are very helpful and excited about work. One drove me home, and was telling me about her daughter 'she told me she was gay, no bi, but really she's just QUEER'. Fantastic! And I am finding TONS of articles that will be extremely useful for my work, all sorts of quirky things filed in these huge folders from the last 30 years or so (and fortunately there is a database). Think I will need a couple of days more there.

* Hostel guests the usual mish-mash of Irish and Finnish and German etc. Fun people. Very cute woman in my room hit on me this afternoon, much to my surprise.
So, what are you up to? she asks
Oh, just drinking my morning coffee, says moi, you?
Just checking you out
*Gulp*
Those lip piercings, what are they like to kiss with?
*Swoon*. *Gulp*.

Didn't get any further than that in the flirtation stakes, but had a lovely big chat about meditation and healing and general sorting out life stuff. Sweet.

* Then got to meet MA, the gorgeous ex-Sydney tomboy butch for Borsch, Vodka and Tears. I didn't have the borsch, but rather a plate of yummy little crumber pierogi (?) stuffed with porcini mushrooms and sauerkraut. Then tried the 3 Vodka tasting deal, served in delicate little crystal glasses. Black pepper potato, bitter and medicinal with 23 herbs and spices, and wild orange. Magnificent! On the menu was an extraordinary array of pineapple, horseradish and cranberry, wild honey, prune, ginger, raspberry leaf, vanilla, sour cherry and honey, wormwood, chilli, guiness etc infused vodkas. Martinis, all manner of cocktails, maybe half a dozen various absinthe concoctions, and a huge range of mostly Polish foods. No Tears either, but plenty of laughs.

* And then I got to walk home in the rain with no umbrella, have some tea and a hot shower and about to crawl all warm and freshly scrubbed into my bunk bed. Melbourne just has such a lovely pace and style to it! If it wasn't for the cold I do believe I could live here for some time. So many art galleries and quirky little shops and hole in the wall bars and... sure the novelty would wear off after a while. Quite a while though.

Melbournia

On an ancient and slow-moving computer at my lovely old ramshackle hostel so this is brief!

Melbourne is kind of sticky and grey, and around 18degrees.
Got out of airport around midday yesterday, and ears didn't pop until about 10pm last night. Sometimes I am okay on planes, other times that last half hour or so of descent is hellish. This time it was the latter so I pulled plenty of odd faces trying to relieve the pressure and virtually crawled under the seat in front trying to make it stop (though how I figured that would help I don't know!).
In the arvo pottered about getting to know Chapel St again. Then over to Fitzroy to have dinner with a Uni friend whow moved down here this year. Bimbo's $4 pizza nights are an institution, and I got myself the Organico- rosemary, pine nuts, soy cheese and pumpkin with an Asahi beer (ON TAP *swoon*). Then bed early.

Today head to Lactation Resource Centre to do some work. Then a place called Borsch, Vodka and Tears in Prahran for borsch/vodka/tears tonight with Aly.
Tomorrow is more LRC, and lunch with some Sloths, followed by a trip to the 'burbs somewhere to hook up with Yummy Mummy and her kidlet. Think I might actually try suckling the child and see what happens now that I have milk. Might just get away with it.
Thursday more LRC, and maybe some shopping in Fitzroy. There is a fabulously camp barber show there too so might get my sides wet-shaved- one of my favourite things! Then SLIT launch.
Friday more research, then drag king night in Collingwood.
Saturday not certain yet. But probably involve lots of ART as great stuff on at the NGV. And maybe Beyond, though not feeling up to leather boys at the moment, and will be an expensive night so... maybe try and find some rockabilly or punk bands or... just trawl around St Kilda looking for adventure.
Sunday butch/femme/trans lunch then who know? Home late that night.
Phew!

Am so exhausted. Brekky, coffee, more coffee but had such a restless night and barely feel like I have slept. Emotional entanglements, and disentanglements, pre-occupying my mind day and night. Part of me wishes I was home hiding under my doona, the rest of me glad that I am here and being forced to interact with the world. And Melbourne is such a perfect place to be melancholy... its a bittersweet city.

Further Song List For A Broken Zoo

* The Cure- Homesick
and i forget how to move
when my mouth is this dry
and my eyes are bursting hearts
in a blood-stained sky
oh it was sweet
it was wild
and oh how we...
i trembled
stuck in honey
honey
cling to me...
so just one more
just one more go
inspire in me the desire in me
to never go home

* Buzzcocks- Ever Fallen In Love With Someone You Shouldn't Have Fallen In Love With?
Self-explanatory really

*Japan- Adolescent Sex
Ditto...with juvenile intentions.

* Elvis Costello- Good Year for the Roses
I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick on the cigarettes there in the ashtray
Lyin cold the way you left em, but at least your lips caressed them while
You packed
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee that you poured and didnt drink
But at least you thought you wanted it, thats so much more than I can say
For me

* Elvis Costello- Indoor Fireworks
You were the spice of life
The gin in my vermouth
And though the sparks would fly
I thought our love was fireproof
Sometimes we'd fight in public darling
With very little cause
But different kinds of sparks would fly
When we got on our own behind closed doors

Pearl Necklace

We never use condoms. I am barebacked into oblivion by my baby bear. Slip and slide in my own juices and an ounce of spit, across his silicone and the sheets. Slurp it all up, cum slut, lick it clean. Cream pie, my filling slopping down my thighs. Mop it up, cum rag, fly the white hanky. Cum on my face, buried between his legs. A good source of iron, swallow it down, suck the marrow from his bone. Drink his T, let it steep a little first, infused in oil and injected straight into my throat. Essence of boy, distilled, refined, he doesn't know his own strength. Elixir, ambrosia, cocktail, he doesn't know how he intoxicates.

I wear his pearl necklace everywhere I go.

Harvest Moon

Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin
We could dream this night away.

But theres a full moon risin
Lets go dancin in the light
We know where the musics playin
Lets go out and feel the night.

Because Im still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because Im still in love with you
On this harvest moon.

When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart.

But now its gettin late
And the moon is climbin high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin in your eye.

Because Im still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because Im still in love with you
On this harvest moon.

-Neil Young

Milky Magic

Fenugreek makes me smell like imitation maple syrup. Milk thistle tea tastes more like thistle than milk. Fennel seed infusion tastes a little like aniseed. I am drinking litres of water and pissing all the time it seems., yet feel quite dehydrated and keep wanting to drink more. My forearms are getting strong from pumping four times a day. I am getting weird cravings. My moods are a little erratic, in that all of a sudden I will feel like crying at kittens (and there is no other reason). Or suddenly I will wanttof all asleep where I stand. Will try to work out whether these crashes and emotional changes are correlated to when I pump or what I am consuming, if they occur a certain time after a session or when the herbs hit or... not that it worries me really. Its interesting, and all a sign that my LactoGrrl project is working!

Now when I pump it drips, and today for the first time there was enough for it to actually collect in the attached bottle. I dropped some of it in the fennel tea, but it didn't make a difference at all to colour or taste. Need to be producing considerably more before I invite you all around for a tea party!

All that is missing is a mouth to feed. I have a strong urge to hold that certain someone's head in my hands, to offer my milk to that waiting tongue, to drizzle it all over warm flesh... its erotic, sure, but more about temperature and tenderness and merging and incorporation than getting my rocks off. There is a certain look that babies get, satiated and blissed out, that post-feed drunkeness- and I have seen it on the faces of lovers too. The beauty of fluid exchanges, or engorgement and gorging, of the alimentary, the death drive, of being eaten alive, drained, sucked dry, spent...

(And if anyone is wondering how to suckle, here is a handy how to latch link)

Its all in the Fist

Have a feeling there is much to update here, as seems like I have had quite a hectic week! But for now, I will just tell you the dirty stuff:

After many trashy evening of butterfly kisses and flutterings and hair bondage the Whoretic and I finally consumated our flirtations. Seems like my red hanky may occassionally stray to the right after all. Have almost got myself believing I was no longer that accomodating, but 'tis amazing how much I can stretch myself when I put my mind to it. My mind, a bottle of amyl, several beers, a Jagermesiter shot and a stubborn determined streak that wasn't going to let me give up this time! Also, took as quite long enough to get around to it so wasn't going to let it go that easily, I wanted to take as much as I possibly could. And I did ;)

Hmm. Whoretic was quite possibly the first HighFemmeIdentifying creature I have ever done the wild things with, and certainly has the longest (head) hair. Got to thinking somehow that maybe I am a Low Femme? Sounds rather fitting to me!

French Surrealist Porn in the Morning Sun

Now in the corner of a hallway there was a saucer of milk for the cat. "Milk is for the pussy, isn't it?" said Simone. "Do you dare me to sit in the saucer?"

"I dare you," I answered almost breathless.

The day was extremely hot. Simone put the saucer on a small bench, planted herself before me, and, with her eyes fixed on me, she sat down without my being able to see her burning buttocks under the skirt, dipping into the cool milk. The blood shot to my head, and I stood before her awhile, immobile and trembling, as she eyed my stiff cock bulging in my trousers. Then I lay down at her feet without her stirring, and for the first time, I saw her "pink and dark" flesh cooling in the white milk. We remained motionless, both of us equally overwhelmed…

Suddenly, she got up, and I saw the milk dripping down her thighs up to the stockings. She wiped herself evenly with a handkerchief as she stood over my head with one foot on the small bench, and I vigorously rubbed my cock through the trousers while writhing amourously on the floor. We reached orgasm at almost the same instant without even touching one another.

Yesterday my morning began with Whoretic reclined on a lounge in the backyard reading aloud the above passage from Bataille's 'Story of The Eye' (10) whilst I sipped Milk Thistle infusion and pumped. Lazy, lusty performance in the early sunshine as my breasts get all wet. Nice way to start the day...

Toxic Toys

Greenpeace issues toxic sex toy warning . . .

"The reason behind the shock advisory is not the possible risk of ending up in
hospital with a dildo stuck firmly up your jacksie and having to endure the
humiliating laughter of medical staff who avail themselves of the opportunity
of grabbing a few X-rays for later dissemination on the internet, but rather
that sex toys apparently contain 'extremely high concentrations of phthalate
plasticisers which allegedly pose a risk to human health and the
environment'."

Ella Dreyfus' Transman Part Two

More quotes to ponder from the Transman himself:

'I think many people occupy their body as an unwilling tenant- treat it as casually as if it were someone else's old clothing. I own my body in every sense- I've bought, traded, built and worked for it- it's mine.'

And

'Disclosure, loss of privacy, showing all who or what I am, a trade-off for your education or interest. Is it worth it? I hope so.'

As I sit here with my breasts full and aching, my bottom lip newly punctured and swollen (I smile like I have been Botoxed) and the three-week-old scars from my last show itching across my tummy I am planning out conference papers that blatantly reveal the obsessions of my psyche and performances that make me cry with feelings of vulnerability and fragility even as I write them up. I think of how open I am with some things in some contexts, yet can't pump in the women's room for fear of being asked questions and having to explain my project to someone outside of 'the circle', a random engineering or accounting student who will look at me and my empty baby bottle curiously and ask 'so, there's no baby?'. Would rather sit in the toilets and pump in private, and can sort of understand how some mother's must feel- and how sometimes it may actually be a CHOICE to remain hidden away. Even if you COULD be open about it and educate the world about owning your body!

Boot Boogie

Just recalled that at last week's Kooky debauchery I was told by a mangled Mistress O'Mayhem that I danced like a leather boy. Apparently, this amounts to more Boot and less Booty action! Guess I will forever be more fagg-ot than fagg-y ;)

Trans Love Stories- Call for Submissions

I think this is a most beautiful project! And if anyone wants to write something up, but feels a little shy or wants someone to help out with editing and structure and all techinal stuff that I am happy to read through and offer my humble assistance...

Submissions are being sought for an anthology of real-life stories by
transsexual (transsexed) people (MTF and FTM) and their experience of
being in love. Please note this is not an erotica or sex book, it is about
finding and being in love with a significant other.

We are seeking stories of 5000 words and written in the first person. The
relationship described can be short or long term, and the partner in
question can be current or past (for example if they are now deceased).
We would also like to include a photo of each contributor and their partner.

All sexualities are encouraged and welcomed – straight, gay, lesbian,
bisexual, asexual etc, as well as trans-trans relationships of any
sexuality. The point of the book is to show that good, loving relationships are
possible for transsexual people of all sexualities and for them to tell
their experiences in their own words, including the highs and lows.

We are seeking submissions from across the globe – Asia, India, Africa, as
well as the US, Europe and Australia.

The editors recognise and acknowledge the huge range of sex and gender
diverse people; however, the scope of this particular book is aimed at
those who identify as transsexual or transsexed – however a particular
individual defines those terms.

The book has been commissioned by the Haworth Press in the USA, a well-
known publisher of GLBTIQ titles, and will be published late 2007/early
2008.

Deadline for submissions is 31 January 2007.

Payment is $100 USD plus one copy of the book.

About the editors:

Dr Tracie O'Keefe DCH is a clinical hypnotherapist, psychotherapist,
counsellor, couples and family therapist, originally from London and now
based in Sydney, Australia. A transsexual woman herself she is well
known in the field of sex and gender diversity, having published many
papers on the subject as well as being the co-author of Trans-X-U-All: The
Naked Difference (1997), the author of Sex, Gender & Sexuality: 21st
Century Transformations, and the co-editor of Finding the Real Me: True
Tales of Sex & Gender Diversity (2003). www.tracieokeefe.com

Katrina Fox is an internationally known freelance journalist, also from
London and now living in Sydney with her partner Tracie O'Keefe. She
writes for Australia's national lesbian magazine LOTL, as well as features
and a regular weekly column, Keeping Abreast, for SX, Sydney's largest
GLBTIQ arts, news and entertainment magazine. Her articles have also
appeared in Diva, the UK's national lesbian magazine. She is the co-author
and editor with Tracie O'Keefe of the above-mentioned titles.
www.katrinafox.com

For more information and detailed guidelines for submissions, please email
transbooklove@yahoo.com 40yahoo.com>

Please pass this call out to relevant friends or colleagues who may be
interested in contributing, as well as relevant networks, message boards,
chat rooms and groups.

EarthDance and Bifusion this Sunday

I should be at this nice and early, to dance mylittlebits off before heading over to perform at BiFusion:

Earthdance Sydney 2006

Sunday 17th September 2006….. Sydney will unite over 222 locations…… from 50 countries……. with over 300,000 people to celebrate the 10th Annual Earthdance Global Festival For Peace…..In conjunction with United Nations World Peace Day (UN Day), Earthdance is a celebration of global peace, humanitarian aims and encourages local and international artists, community groups and the public in awareness and self development.

In 2005, Earthdance Assn Inc with the support of City of Sydney hosted one of the most successful global Earthdance community festivals in the world. Police estimated 20,000 attendees throughout the day at the 2nd metro Earthdance festival in Sydney. This year we are estimating over 25,000 attendees to the festival.

Earthdance Sydney is located at the Brick Kilns, Sydney Park…..St Peters/ Newtown…..The festival is a showcase of local and international artists, brought together to educate and interact with the community and each other. Facilitated by a tailored program, Earthdance Sydney program comprises cultural and alternative music, dance, celluloid media, fashion, cuisine, visual performers and entertainers creating an awe-inspiring, interactive experience for all attendees at no cost.

Then, come 3pm, it will be time for:

BiFusion's "Sunday Matinee's gone to the dogs"

Aurora Gallery
$10 / $5 concession & Bi-NSW members
bifusion@bi-nsw.org.au
Dramatic performance, dance, song, poetry, comedy, burlesque, acrobatics. There's no guarantee that the BiFusion folks will have all of this but whatever they have planned it will be fun, queer, and personal.

And don't forget Hellfire on Friday night. I will be assisting the boys from Polymorph with the 1am show, and it ought to be rather nice indeed :)

Squirt Alert

While Googling about I came across a great little site called Clitoris.com with a very handy page on female ejaculation. And then in a book called Lesbians Talk Transgender (featuring contributions from Bornstein, Feinberg, Wilkins, Della Grace, Halberstam, Whittle and more) Zachary I Nataf discusses FTM body changes noting 'although I have read no reports of this, from my own experience there may be increased activity of the prostate/paraurethral gland and ejaculation'. Which has all just made me muse upon squirting and spurting and the joys of leaky messy bodies. And made me want to share two of my favourite quotes on this theme. The first is from Lynn Randolph:

This contemporary Venus is not a Goddess in the conventional sense of a contained figure. She is an unruly woman, actively making a spectacle of herself. Queering Boticelli, leaking, projecting, shooting, secreting milk, transgressing the boundaries of her body. Hundreds of years have passed and we are still engaged in a struggle for interpretive power over our bodies in a society where they are marked as a battleground by the church and the state in legal and medical skirmishes.

And the second from Jeffrey Weeks:

There is something important about the messiness, the chaos, the come, the blood, the shit, the piss, the sweat of actual physical contact, and I don’t think there is any alternative to that messiness and the joy of that messiness.

Snow In Summer

For some reason I can't stop thinking of this old Cure song...

high up on this mountain
the whole world looks so small
and all the rivers
run away
slipping in your deep green heart
i drink you as i swim
and i'm sliding
and i'm sliding with you
slide beneath my skin

sleek and deep
and salty sweet
you open up in me
just like the snow in summer

high up on this mountain
the whole world looks so small
and all the rivers
run away
slipping in your soft white heart
i drink you as i swim
and i'm falling
and i'm falling with you
fall beneath my skin

sleek and deep
and salty sweet
you come
and close in me
just like the snow in summer

just like the snow in summer
as it melts
into the sea

Sunshine in the Rain

Hmmm... well, woke up all disturbed. Couldn't seem to make it all better, despite phonecalls. Wanted to go to Festival Of The Winds kite day at Bondi, but was too wet and cold, and, weirdly, windy, to be bothered heading down there. Decide the only way to get over this feeling of BLAH is to get pierced. So I text Rob, and get an appointment for 1pm. Shower, deal with hangover, head in there not sure whether to get a single labret or two lip pierings (bottom lip). Once I see the matching black spikes decide on the latter. Still found it hard to go through with (why? oh why? did a cheek spear three weeks ago but not a 14gauge needle scares me?), but had run into a friend on the train and dragged her in as moral support and somehow get myself all marked up and... first one goes in and its party-in-pants territory. Moan. Second one through and I am jumping about the chair in excitement. They feel beautiful, and look even better! Having trouble eating with any real finesse, and most things served better in liquid form, but damn, they are sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo pretty!

Milk almost flowing today, as in not drop but actually WET and squelching in the pump and dribbling down my tit. Started on milk thistle tea yesterday, and maybe that is it? Fenugreek tomorrow too, so should really be starting to get milky soon :)

Weekend roundup: Bear party Friday night. Great to catch up with my boys, but music really bad and feel kind of flat somehow. Saturday night covered in previous post. Tonight went to see CODA and a whole pile of performers and DJs at the Tilbury to celebrate the start of Spring. Dress myself all up and head off with Beanz and NattieTheFlattie. Driving, which is nice 'cos pissing rain again. Get there, find people to chat to, flirt about, drink beer, find Boy and his friend and scoff free oysters and dance, more beer drinking and chat more and flirt about more and wind up home before 10pm. Quite a nice night really, though not without its uncomfortable moments. Just want to cuddle really, so curl up with NTF on the floor with a blankie and watch animation on cable TV. FamilyGuy helps somehow!

Hmmm. Think maybe this is a week to just concentrate on studying and writing shows and stuff and leave my 'private life' to take care of itself. Be at Sly on Wednesday, of course, and alread have plans to be naughty. Not to mention the shenanigans planned for Hellfire this coming Friday *lol*. What to do? Just keep on going, and hope for the best...

All dressed up and... A night of Almosts

Geez, was a spectacularly weird and grumpy and melancholy and utterly disturbing Blue Moon festival that was.

I was supposed to do a hook suspension tonight. All detoxed and primed, then pissing rain and too cold to do anything outdoors (where the frame is). So decide to do a pull. Swabbed down and marked up and ready for the hooks and... can't take them. Suddenly don't want the pain, afraid of it, really really really just not wanting it at all. Knew I COULD take them, could go through with it, would survive the ordeal, but knew it would hurt. Not just physically either. Can't fathom why, but watch the others do pulls and cheek hooks and spears and almost vomit with longing to feel the metal through my flesh. But when it came to it earlier, just couldn't. Why? Didn't trust myself, didn't have that inch of faith required to believe that I could pull it off. Damn, my back still aches in the places where the hooks should have been, and I crave the sensation...

So, all titchy and wired from that experience. Want a cuddle, and the beautiful Buxom Wench is at hand. Boy rings me, and suddenly he is all that can comfort me, want his cuddles,want to just nestle into the side of his neck and know that I am ok, just for a moment before we both disappear into the night. But he has just finished work, and now he is going to a party and I get all shirty and pissed off with him. Its illogical to be annoyed with him somehow, but this whole thing is illogical. I rarely safeword, and always cop at least as much as I promise! What made me call it off so close? Damn it all, I should have just been brave and taken the hooks and now I would be floating but... what stopped me?

So, all distraught and wanting to expain to Boy that I was being a bit strange and he shouldn't take it personally but... too hard to explain it all somehow. Mood just getting more ridiculous, but valiantly trying to rescue the situation. Have some beer, watch some pool playing, chat with friends and try to fathom my way out of such an ODD headspace. Want some pain, but this is not immediately available. Decide to salvage what is left of my energy and optimism and head to the freaky Fashion Show with BW. Its pretty, we dance with the goths and perve at the corsets. Friend turns up with her fuckbuddy (?) and invites me to get messy and have a threesome. Snog both of them, much talk of who and what and how and more snogging and then... can't get any sense about where or when. Fair enough, as they both pretty mangled, but find myself disproportionately stroppy with the fuzziness of it all and get mighty impatient. Girl can't wait around forever, chemicals or not! So share a cab home to our individual abodes with the BW, who reminds me of how grumpy-arse and strange I was all night and the wasted opportunity I had with her. Dang! Sometimes the icky stuff just snowballs, and I can't dig myself out anymore!

Maybe it is the full moon last night to blame. Maybe the hormonal mood swings from the lactation project. Maybe I'm pre-menstrual, though this is unlikely. World just seem all off-kilter somehow? No hooks, no nookie, strange vibe between everyone, all just flat and lost its shine somehow.

To bed now, with my flannelette sheets and my hot water bottle, perchance to dream of something more pleasant. Depressing and unsettling post I know, but promise to be Pollyanna in the next one :)

Loopy with summer

As the days cannoned on, and the heat got meaner, everybody did things crazier than normal. They bought things, they said things, they heard things, they moved things, they lost things, they joined things and left things. They were mad, loony, loopy with summer.

Tim Winton 'Cloudstreet'

Vego Patch

Boy just sent me a link to the brilliant Human Animal Eye online magazine. Pile of vegan recipes and health info and animal wlefare storie. Going on some sort of quirky health kick at the moment, just can't eat enough vegies and fruit and tofu and drinking litres of water and lemon and ginger drinks. Think maybe my body is finally realising just how many nutrients smoking leached out of my poor little body! Eleven days without so much as a drag of a ciggie. Cold turkey, no patches or gum or gradual weaning. Twitchy and fidgety and roaming about forever looking for something to stick in my mouth...

A Pocketful of Fancies

Some links that are making me smile this morning:

Exquisite taxidermy, jewellery and leather accesories by Julie De Ville at Disce Mori. I have a very wrong attraction to the 'Prey' brooch, and the Dragon black sheepskin gloves with the antique blue lace. Ahh, takes me back to my childhood: a freezer specifically for storing skins, the fridge with its dead things in various states of scaling, gutting, pluckingand skinning, catalogues of glass eyes and deer heads on the dining room wall. Just so happens that most of her Aus stockists are in Melbourne... hmmm... where IS my credit card?

A beautiful blog on waves, sport and masculinities by one of my favourite Gender Studiers (he wrote his PhD on surfing). There is a lovely draft paper analysing masculity through surfing ,Sensual Economy of Boys, that is very much worth a read.

Also, some silly creature called Yumi on Channel V just answered some viewer's question on why you should feel guilty about masturbating with some nonsense about not being productive or educating yourself or your friends or doinganything for world peace. This pissed me off so much that I went through the tedium of joining the bloody message board and posting the following:

Q) Why SHOULD you feel guilty about masturbating?
A) Because you are not doing anything productive with your time or to improve world peace. Or educating yourself or your friends.

Not be trite, but: as opposed to watching music videos?

I would argue that masturbation, if one is not plagued by uneccessary notions of guilt or shame, can be a VERY productive activity. Its relaxing. Orgasms put you in a good mood, which makes you nicer to be around. Gets you in touch with yourself (no pun intended) and your own pleasure. Makes you a better lover, as you know what you like and can share this with your partner/s. Makes you smile. Improves your body image, as you get to love your body not just for the way it looks but for the pleasures it can offer. And if world leaders spent more time masturbating than trying to sublimate their sexual tension by blowing other people up, then...

Not expecting any sort of reply, but maybe one or two of the kiddies will read it and realise that Yumi was being simply idiotic. Actually, doesn't look like it has even been posted! Ouch! Maybe a Masturbation Generation protest action outside V is in order? Hurrumph!

Holiday Slide Show

Snapshots of random incidents and thoughts from our road-tripping.

Flash Flooding
Had a selection of board shorts, singlets, little skirts and other summery finery packed in anticipation of tropical northern warmth.Unfortunately it rained and was freezing cold most of the time, so had to cover it all wih big jumper and waterproof hooded coat! Flash flooding warnings came across the country radio. We were in a 4WD, which was somewhat reassuring. Slight hitch on the first afternoon, as when Boy opened the driver's window it refused to close again. As in, wouldn't budge an inch. To reiterate, it was raining, and cold. To compound matters, as we sat in the carpark of a service station pondering how to rectify the window situation, the lock on the driver's door started opping up and down like it was possessed. The door wouldn't lock. Then, it wouldn't click and stay shut at all. We had to keep it closed with electrical tape. Eventually we worked out that we couldn't fix it ourselves, it was too late to find a Ford dealership and so we spent a rather uncomfortable evening sleeping at the side of the road with a blanket over the window. Woke up to find that we had pulled over next to a gorgeous rainforest-type scene, complete with waterfall. Sweet.

The Chokechain of Romance
Walking the HyperHounds through Lismore in the rain. Boy disappears into the pet store, emerging with dehydrated meaty treats for the doggies and a shiny new chokechain for me. Awww, who said romance was dead?

Biting off more than a puppy can chew
Camped in the carpark of the beautiful Rocky Point Reserve. Made ourselves coffee on the camp stoves, boiled eggs and ate out muesli. I had myself a rain-shower, dancing about naked on the grass and trying to get wet enough to de-stink and de-grunge pits and bits after two wash-less days. Some time later was in the Ladies going about my business when I hear calls of 'Zoo! Zoo! Come and help!'. Rush out to find Sam, the kelpie/staffie cross, with a football stuck in his mouth. Laughing so hard I could barely hold his head while Boy tried to stab the ball with a knife and deflate it. Eventually the crazy canine pissed off somewhere and managed to shake it free himself. Just wish I had been able to keep it together enough to photograph the indignant Sammy!

33 Zen Lane (Bitch and Animal)

i'll have a big back yard to run in
and a big oak tree for climbing
and a wrap around porch to sip homemade iced tea
that brewed in the sunwhile i watched it
i'll whisper my secretsto the wind
their dollars to me won't mean nothing
except maybe to keep the weeds down
in my vegetable garden
my mail will come to33 zen lane
in a county called rushing river
that's its native name
my family will be my friends
my friends will be my home
you can't call me you'll just have to come
because i won't have a phone

Okay, so I will have a phone. And broadband internet if possible. Aside from that, I do plan to have myself a big old house with a kitchen garden and chooks and a hammock and a kiddy pool and a tyre swing hanging from a tree. Soon. And my friends can come to stay and we can spend long summer holidays drinking beer on the verandah and dancing in the yard when the sun goes down. No neighbours within earshot, a great sound system and fairly lights twinkling and citronella torches keeping the mozzies away while we BBQ the organic tofuburgers. Hippy, moi?

More Christians than you could poke a pitchfork at
In almost every town, huge streetsigns and banners proclainming the way to some blonde-brick Christian Life Centre or another. Its like the whole of northern NSW has been Hillsonged. Surreal.

'If its not flannelette, I just don't get it'
Yes, Boy bought himself a new blue flannie for the trip. Add the Newtown Jets cap, dogs and the footy and it was a full unleashing of his (Inner) Westy. Mine too. We even had a Cold Chisel CD hidden underneath all the Tom Waits and Lydia Lunch and Johnny Cash. Can take the freaks out of the 'burbs...

Ella Dreyfus' Transman series

"I am what I always was. It's just been revealed to the world instead of being kept secret. I wasn't a woman who became a man - I never was a woman. I am a transgender person - I cross gender confines. I do not have to experience your restrictions - I surpass them."
Written by the subject of Transman

This is the most extrordinary photo series by Ella Dreyfus. Check out the essays and press clippings too. Its from 2001, but heaven knows I was nowt but a curious straight girl in the 'burbs at that point and too scared to attend Mardi Gras events so I never saw it! As www.sydneytribe.com quite correctly states, it is:

'A challenging piece of work that documents the ultimate metamorphosis of an individual who defies orthodox concepts of gender and identity'.

The girl who sent me this link think she has all the photos at home and so might bring them in for me to perv at next week *SIGH*. Will let you know if she does!

Zoo South of The Border

Born of the river,
Born of its ever-changing, never-changing murky water
Oh riverboat just rollin' along through the great great greasy city Huck standing like a Saint, upon its deck
If ya wanna catch a Saint,
then bait ya hook, let's take a walk...

'O come to me!, O come to me!' is what the dirty city
say to Huck...

- Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 'Saint Huck'

Yep, you heard it right. Zoo be slipping underneath the radar and bringing her own peculiar brand of Harbourside Filthyness to the dirty old Yarra (flying down though, so more like standing like a Saint upon the landing strip)...


Get there around lunchtime on Monday 18th. Leave around 9pm Sunday 24th. SLIT launch Thursday 21st, and Beyond leather party Saturday 23rd. Anyone know anything else that should be on my travel itinerary (bearing in mind I will be researching most days)? Think there is a big Picasso exhibition on, and its the Melbourne Leather Festival at that time so should be plenty of perverts lurking about, but always looking for further artistic adventures, dirty nightclub adventures, kooky museaum adventures, messy pub adventures, and nice tourist-y adventures like good walks and eating European cakes on Ackland St-type adventures. Yummy! Chapel St, that pizza place with the kewpie doll on top, Dr Croft's, some place called Madame Brussels that comes highly recommended- and the Lactation Resource Centre most of the weekdaytimes.

Spring is Sprung: Garden Music and Frolicking

I'm planning to be at this with a big picnic spread and a bottle or two of something sparkling. Sunday October 8th, 12:30-6pm:

Urban Fusion at Government House

Celebrate the arrival of spring in the ultimate garden party setting. Jaslyn Hall, former ABC Radio presenter, hosts an impressive line up of contemporary music:

CODA – renowned for their imaginative theatrical performance and a music that has no boundaries, blend the beauty of strings with the warmth of electronica, simply extraordinary.

LABJACD – a nine-piece band from Melbourne that play an exhilarating mix of hip hop, Cuban salsa, jazz and even Andean folk music. Combining this with their pulsing rhythm and horn sections, guitars, double bass and decks LABJACD are guaranteed to bring the crowd to their feet for a feast of dancing.

Tango Saloon – will delight with their unique style. Think Astor Piazzolla meets Ennio Morricone, this tango-flavoured music has a twist of spaghetti western peppered with humour plus hints of jazz, electronics, Cuban and chamber classical.

Astronomy Class – the soaring new trio made up of Ozi Batla (The Herd), Sir Robbo (Frigid, Tooth) and Chasm. Their debut album, Exit Strategy, is a hook-laden hip hop record anchored in resinous dub and reggae. Combined with resonant and searching lyrics, it is set to be one of the albums of summer. These three prolific musicians have looked to the stars for inspiration, aiming to bring a little outer-worldliness back to hip hop.

So come and relax on the lush lawns, bring along a picnic or just a rug and enjoy the fine foods and wine on sale.

Government House | Gates open 12.30pm | General $15 Conc/Members $10 Family $40 | Tickets on sale now - T 02 8239 2211 (no booking fee) | Tickets at the gate | For further information

Who's coming with me?

La Shaggin' Wagon

Car, Girls, Surfing, Beer
Nothing else matters here - Dictators 'Cars and Girls'

4WD. LPG, or at the very least diesel. Maybe a van, or a station wagon. Boy would like a Ute, but I want something we can sleep in.* Under $4000. Sometime around January I reckon. Any mechanically minded folk out there feel free to comment. Never owned a car before, or even driven one :)

And in the back of the vehicle, all the essentials for road-tripping fun:

WD40. Rope. Ocky straps. Tool kit. Lamps. Torches. Mattress. Camp stove and gas bottles. Blankies. Pillows. Towels. Tarps. Pots, pans, cutlery, crockery. Coffee maker. Duct tape and gaffa tape. Knives, scissors, stanley knife. Lighter, matches. Sewing kit. Tent. Sunscreen. Insect repellent. Toy box. Binoculars. Esky/fridge. Curtains. CD player. Just about perfect?

*Yes, ute is possible to sleep in but not for me?

Lis Is More

(Pic is of Nimbin Rocks when we stopped to pee at the side of the road)

Ooooooooooooooooooooh, I am such a country girl at heart! Just got back Thursday night from a few days around Lismore way with the Boy and the HyperHounds... much to tell- rain, car adventures, rain, 20 000 Cows, rain, organic goodies, rain, sleeping in the back of the car, rain, waking up next to a waterfall, rai, Johnny Cash, rain... but later, because right now I have to pop into The New Town, find pressie/s for my Dad's birthday and Father's Day, head over to the Biologicals for dinner and sleepover. Back tomorrow to SLEEP IN MY OWN BED! Perchance to dream even ;)

Stumbled home this morning from a trashy night at Kooky with The Mistress of Mayhem, the Buxom Wench, The Trollop, Beanz, NattieTheFlattie and assorted sordid and seductive creatures. Much beer, much cavorting, some very strange entanglements and then back to M's for a bit of this and that. Yummy. Nice arvo just pottering around, cleaning things and eating porridge and hanging with the housemates. Sun shining, backyard all bright and beautiful and the everything just feeling so 'Spring-y'! Life is lovely, really.

And for those keeping tabs on my milky projects- pumped the whole time I was away (4-5 times a day), had a little human suckling and started on the domperidone and HAVE DROPS already. Breasts full, getting let-down pains shooting through them, quite tender. Nipples more sensitive than ever. Reckon it won't be long before the mik is flowing...

Also, Under The Blue Moon Festival is on next Saturday in Enmore Rd. There is a ruour I may be 'hanging around' at PolyMorph. Contact me close to the date if you wanna watch me squirm and hopefully I'll know what time I'll be up for it. Detox begins today. 1 week without ciggies already, just stopping booze and (most) junk food before the hanging, drinking lots of water and trying to get my body and head clear. So excited about it! Big hooks! Swinging from big hooks! *SWOON*