Fire

Fire Dancer

"Hey son, don't touch that.   It will always burn you."
As he looked away, my five year old hand touched the hot wood stove.  Maybe I learned that time.

"Hey, if you play with fire, you'll get burned."  I listened but didn't understand it beyond the simple literal meaning it offered.

"Hey, be careful, that is hot..."
I drank the hot coffee and it burned my throat.  Maybe I learned that time.

"Hey, don't think about it, that is fire.  Everyone will be burned, especially those close to you."  I listened to him but once again I knew I was fireproof. I got a few scars from that one.

Wait!! It will burn you!

Fire is beautiful and sensual to watch.  It cooks, heats, and melts metal.  It tempts us with its power to do things, but we forget how we can too easily assume we master it and know all its outcomes.  Our arrogance burns us.  With that reminder, we try to rethink how can we use it and not get burned.  Maybe there is no safe way to play with fire and we will always get burned.  If we don't play with fire though, we will never learn and grow to achieve our desires, aspirations and fulfill our needs.  By taking that risk, we painfully live a full life.

Sometimes we have to just accept that we are going to get burned, but it may just be worth it.  With that, I salute all those who are willing to play with fire and take those chances to truly live.   Time to play with fire and get ready for the scars of learning from it.

Porn and Drugs

Classic Modern Leila

Dr. L over at What We Saw Today wrote about pornography again.  She discusses how the vague boundaries of porn makes it so hard to discuss and define.  All of this makes me think porn and drugs are related, but not in the way you may think.

I've written about pornography a bit too.  I've stated that I believe porn can be art, but not all porn is art.  I've made what most would consider porn.  I've viewed porn.  I am not going to define the boundaries between art, porn and erotica since all three can blend a bit for me.  While the content of the pornography varies and can be defended or blamed, I am not writing about content now.  I want to focus on porn usage.  My belief about porn usage is similar to that of drugs.  Neither are good or bad, it is the intention of the use that is "good" or "bad."

Along the way to getting my psychology degree I had to take both Use and Abuse of Drugs and Human Sexuality.  Both were great classes.  Both came with warnings and caveats.  Both courses were held in the largest auditorium on campus, seating 499 people.  Both classes were full. 

Follow the Arc

In the sex class, we were told on the first day that we could not bring friends, family or any other guest to the class unless they were registered.  The professors (one a behavioral biologist covering the physiology of sex, the other a social anthropologist, covering the cultural, historic, and other contextual aspects of sexuality) told us that we would become used to talking about sex openly and seeing explicit imagery in the class.  If we brought anybody from the outside, they would not  be "desensitized" to the this content and may become distressed.  What a titillating hook!  That made me want to attend class even more.  It was a great class where I learned more about human sexuality than the rest of life could teach me.  We always joked that the lectures were good, but the labs were the best!

The drugs course was a tough class.  We had to learn about the different classifications, uses, and outcomes of using drugs.  Twenty-one years later, I think I've forgotten most of that stuff, which is funny since I work for a drug company.  The main lesson I learned was something the professor stated on the first overhead transparency (pre-Power Point days).

Drugs are neither good or bad, it is how we use them that are good or bad.

The Blessed Ludivica Albertoni 1 - Classic Porn?

All pharmaceutical companies have to monitor the safety of their products.  Every drug has side effects and issues.  By tracking each adverse event and determining the risk/benefit of the product in a process called pharmacovigilance, we strive to give the patients and their health care providers the best information to make needed decisions.

Risk/benefit is a very gray area.    Here is a fictional, but common scenario, I have cancer that will kill me in 5 months.  If I take drug X, it has shown to increase survival rates by up to three years.  The major side effects are nausea and joint pain.  There is a toxicity issue that if taken more than five years, the drug will cause serious and permanent kidney and liver damage that is probably fatal.  Those are pretty bad risks, but the probability that I would live past five years is almost nil making the kidney and liver damage issue moot.  As for the nausea and joint pain, I have to decide if the quality of life issues caused by those side effects are worth it to live another few years.   The risk/benefit equation tips toward benefit.

The Blessed Ludivica Albertoni 2 - Detail

Now lets take the same scenario, but make the disease psoriasis.  Psoriasis is a severe disease, but not fatal.  The risk/benefit equation tips toward risk and the drug should not be given.

If we look at risk/benefit for illegal drugs or drugs that can be used for illegal purposes, it gets complicated.  Marijuana has both risks and benefits.  For cancer and AIDS patients, it can help them survive and lessen the symptoms.  For the pot smokers just wanting a great afternoon of watching Threes Company and toking a bowl, the equation is different.  When we look at E, ruffies, heroin, cocaine, crack, vicodin, huffing glue, meth, the risk/benefit equation heavily tilts toward risk.


Good/Bad, Risk/Benefit as related to porn usage.

In Dr. L's post, she mentions that serial killer Ted Bundy blamed porn as the cause of his crimes.  Whether his statement is true and how true it is, his usage suggests a bad use for porn.  I doubt that porn made him do it, but I can't rule out that it had an influence.  With his case, my assessment is bad use, heavy risk.

Many men in committed relationships view porn.  For some it is just a quick tension release and doesn't affect relations with their partners and family.  It is similar to enjoying a beer after a day's work and relaxing.  In that case I would assess it as good use, good benefits.

Stirred 2 (still baffled why you would need wifi at a brothel)

Many men in committed relationships view porn for hours, masturbating with it daily or even more frequently.  They would rather do that than have sex with their significant others.  There could be many reasons they are not seeking their partner (partner is not interested or is unable to have sex, emotional issues, etc.).  If this use of porn is leading to problems and addictions, I assess it as bad use, risky.

Those are enough scenarios, you can look at how it can help couples explore and have more fun or how it leads people into riskier activities in search of the next hot stimulating thing.  All of them are on that good/bad, risk/benefit scale.

So, which is it for you?  Do you abstain from using it?  Are you a recovering addict?  Are you a recreational user?  Do you use it to improve a healthy sex life?


Side not that is barely related to the topic.
My city of 135K+ souls has only two bookstores, both "adult" and neither really have any books in them.  We have Pier One Imports, Best Buy, Home Depot, Petco, Costco, Target, Walmart, Olive Garden, and sales lots for every major car manufacturer, except Ford.  Makes me wonder what our community really thinks is important to consume.  Literature is not on the list.

Generation Scold*

Candace - 050210 - desat

My body is a stiff wreck after helping a friend and her partner move ten blocks in SF yesterday.  So much for the yard work I will need to do.  I may be lucky to get a few flowers planted though.

During my Sunday morning ritual at a coffee shop, I did some reading at Slate titled Bring Back Boobquake by Hanna Rosin and the backlash against it by some feminists.  That article linked to another titled Generation Scold* by Jessica Grose  In it, the author presented the notion that the generation known as the "millennials" heap scorn upon those who are bit too sexually promiscuous for their tastes.  This open scorn of anyone is a shift in gender definition that may help equalize the perceptions of sex, but also take the adventure out of it.

Candace - 050210 - BW

In many cultures, the man who gets the most girls is seen as a stud by his peers and playboy, at worst, by everyone else.  Hooking up with as many women was lauded as a alpha male virtue.  The opposite was true about the perception of women.  If a woman had many sexual partners, she was a "slut" or worse.  Being sexually promiscious held negative attributes for women.  This was the big double standard of sexuality, men became heroes, women became tramps.  

With the maturing of the millenials, this is changing.  Both the male and female with multiple partners are seen as sluts and are looked down upon as part of the hyper-sexuality running through our culture.  As the story states, this generation grew up and were disgusted by the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal as well as other influences that formed these beliefs.  This shift may lead the end of the double standard, but at what cost?

This makes me wonder if the taboo of sexuality and openness of enjoying the sensual gifts we have is going to shrivel.  Will both genders suffer for this?  I do not hold anyone who is sexually open up higher or down lower in my perception of them.  They are who they are.  I may judge how they treat the people they are with and admonish them for hurting people with sex, but just having multiple lovers is not a plus or minus for me.  My hope is that they are happy with who they are, what they are doing and are careful.

Photo note - experimentation with a close up crop of big image of Candace.  I like her eyes in these and I like how she looks like she is laying down in the cropped versions.  The original is below.

Candace 050210

The Appeal of Sapphos and Threesomes

Just Two
Photo by SB

In Stephen Hayne's blog, Magic Flute Nudes, he asked what the appeal of lesbian erotic photos is for heterosexual males. I wrote a brief summary of some of the psychological theories I found through a quick internet search on the topic. Here is what I wrote.

Let me dust off my 20 year old psychology degree and try to find a theory about why guys like lesbian erotica. I did a quick internet search for theories on this. Here is a stab at it.

When a guy sees erotic photos of a man and a woman, they can feel intimidated by having a man there. This guy in the photo is competition. It is difficult to feel a part of the scene with another guy there. Only when the photos are closeups and hardcore can most men disassociate the guy and put their own feelings, presence and desires into the photo.

If the photo is of two women, the sense of competition is reduced or eliminated because of a misogynistic impulse to think, "All those women need is a real man, and that is me." The lesbians I know definitely disagree that is "what they need."

This is one of theories I found. There were others though centering on the idea of 3-somes and also being dominated by two women.

I need to think on my own feelings concerning these types of images, since I have made some myself. Maybe that could be a future post.

Good questions. Good photo. Good post.

I believe there are subtle variations and combinations of reasons that are more applicable for an individual's desires. As for mine, they have evolved.

From the beginning of my viewing of erotic, pornographic, artistic, implied lesbian erotica, I found them very arousing. I love looking at the feminine physique and seeing two women together in a sexual presentation was even better. If the content was video, the sounds and movements were even more enticing and arousing. The content did not have to be explicit to make me appreciate it.

A few years back, I enjoyed photographing Leila and Hana together. Their genuine affection for each other made the moment feel real and not so scripted. During the photo shoot, I did not feel like a voyeur since I had a participatory role in it. My role was behind the camera and capturing the event and adding direction as needed. I wasn't just a viewer. Was I aroused during the shoot? Not really. Later that night though I did have some very sensual dreams.

Not long ago, my views of lesbian erotica greatly changed due to a very personal issue between my wife and myself. I am still uncomfortable writing out the full issue here, but if you go through my entire blog you will see I've softly touched on it a number of times and you can get the idea of what happened. Because of this I am torn between being aroused seeing the images, but also feeling emotionally hurt by them.

As I mentioned in the theory comment I put on Stephen's post;

If the photo is of two women, the sense of competition is reduced or eliminated because of a misogynistic impulse to think, "All those women need is a real man, and that is me." The lesbians I know definitely disagree that is "what they need."

This is very true. I recently saw an interesting scene from Showtime's The L Word. A homophobic and deep-in-the-closet older police officer has pulled over one of the main male characters who caught his girlfriend with her lesbian lover. The cop asks why he was speeding and the upset boyfriend tells him the story. The cop offers this.

Sammy is the cop, Tim is the boyfriend in the script.

Sammy: You ever watch pornography?
Tim: Um...
Sammy: You don't have to answer that. We all do. You know, we spend our whole lives watchin' porn. We never see the warning. There it is. You know that scene, where, uh, two women are gettin' it on? Guy comes in, he's all hard, y'know, he's gonna give it to 'em, he's gonna fuck 'em good. We think that's what those chicks want. The meat. That's not it. They're having a good time without him. They're going down on each other, you know, they're, uh... they're up in there, they're licking everything, a guy comes in, he's ready to unload... that's not what they want. They got their eyes squinted up, like, uh... someone's gonna pour gasoline on 'em. There's your warning. (stands up) That's why this country's homosexuals... are so dangerous. (leans back down) When you got two people... they got the same equipment... and they both know how to treat it... how could anybody of the opposite sex compete with that? That's how they get ya. (a beat) You, uh... try to drive the speed limit, okay?
Tim: (a beat) (nods) I will.

I don't agree with Sammy's pessimism or defensive attitudes against homosexual sex as being "so dangerous." The male fantasy to join two lesbians and believing, "..all they need is a real man." is dishonest and false. I don't think there is a part for a third in a threesome or between two lesbians that don't need a man. They are together for each other and a man will not make it complete. I doubt a woman would have much success joining two gay male lovers in the same circumstances either.

A few of my friends have tried the different combinations of threesomes. MMF, FFM, FFF, and MMM. All of them said it was at best a failed experiment and at worst, an end of a relationship. If you throw in the factor of love and someone feeling left out and jealous, then mutually rewarding and beautiful threesomes are only a myth of the porn industry.

For better or worse, the appeal of lesbian erotica and threesomes has greatly diminished or evaporated completely for me. I encourage photographers to photograph these scenes, but I am not sure if I will. I still like looking at the pictures though, but the erotic personal connection to them is both arousing and hurting.


Personal note. This is not a well-argued point. I am just trying to figure out how I feel about this topic. As we all know... feelings and logic are not friends.

PHOTO NOTE. I scanned this on my dusty old scanner. Sorry for the millions of dust spots. I tried to get rid of as many of them as I could.

Underwood

Apathetic

Photo by SB

Underwood
SB

Yesterday I watched you pack the car looking down from my kitchen window. You shifted a suitcase to one side of the trunk, then to the other side, and finally decided to keep it in the middle and upright to split your trunk into two. You then walked inside your front door again and stayed there for a few minutes, giving me time to refill my coffee.

A few hours earlier, Ron left the house earlier than his usual 7am looking ragged, but dressed for work. I sipped my first taste of coffee remembering when I met both of you in your front yard. You both were pleasant. Ron was overly enthused to meet the neighbors and settle in. While he talked about his plans to plant roses under the front windows, you gazed down the street with your eyes half closed either looking for a delivery or maybe remembering something you forgot.

Next you came out with a box I recognized instantly. It was the old Underwood portable typewriter that you bought at my yard sale. My grand dad used it to write small dirty humorous haikus and leave them around for people to discover. He thought they were much more high-brow than a dirty limerick due to their 5-7-5 nature and restraint for words. You laughed at that story and wanted to pay the full asking price of $15 for it. I would have taken $5. I made sure the extra ribbons were included. When I asked you what you wanted to type, you answered, "What ever the snappy little letter arms pull out of me." I thought you were kidding, but you didn't even look me in the eyes when you said it. You just looked down the street. A few days later, you came over and dropped off an envelope with a scrap of paper in it. It was one of grandpa's haikus that you found in the bottom of the typewriter case. I hope you found it funny.

I started to turn away when I saw Ron pull up in his car. He walked over to you by the trunk of yours as you tucked the typewriter and a pillow by the suitcase. He rested his hand on the opened trunk lid and said something. He looked worn as if he had been planning a funeral for a loved one. His skin pale and hanging loosely as he tried to talk to you. I wondered why you did not look at him when you talked. You just looked down the street.

He closed the trunk and put his hand on your shoulder and you held it for a moment before letting it go. He looked toward the roses and you got into the car. I could hear you start it like you did every time you went out, over-revving the engine. You slowly backed out, and drove down the road that you had envisioned doing so many times before.


Inspired by the NPR contest, The Three-Minute Fiction.

The Onanistic Self

Other Thoughts

Photo by SB

First, a poem by Joseph J. Capista

Playboy's Guide to Lingering

We read lingerie as lingering.
An innocent mistake, yes, though
we didn't dally in Patel's humid
newsstand amid hanks of cigared
tobacco and men in coveralls logger-
heading with the Pennsylvania Lotto
to expand our budding tongues
but to confuse the single shelf
of cryptograms and crosswords
with the candied shelves of pornos.
Despite our lousy decoding, we
proved adept disrobers, kid-minds
keen to peel what we'd later call satin
from skin like we peeled bright, waxy
clementines slipped in our stockings,
our reward for a year of skirting Satan.
Nonchalant as bubble gum, we thumbed
them cover to cover, lingered, elbowed
one another while we dittoed each
sweet image deep in memory's folds:
love's coy postures, saddle-stapled.
And that is how we imagined
it would be for us on those winter
afternoons: flimsy resistance, a finger's
steady pressure, the split of soft fruit.
We'd puzzle over language later.
For now, we had more important
things on our hands to misread.

Today, I am going to write about alone time. I mean that type of "alone" time. We all do it. Some of us treat each occurrence as a sensual ceremony. Some treat it with about as much passion as brushing their teeth. Sadly, some feel deep shame about it (side note... they should not feel shame about masturbation, but where they do it and what they are fantasizing about may be another issue).
I can't remember the first time I touched myself in any sensual way. I do remember my first climax from doing it though. I was thirteen and found one of my older brother's Playboys that he didn't take to college. When the climax ended... my life changed. I had never experienced anything so internally powerful, intense, or wonderful. It almost hurt, but I knew I wanted to do it again. There was some deep primal urge to want that. For me, I think that was truly a day I started to become a man and a human.
The physical product of it was a big surprise. In sex education, the teacher had mentioned ejaculate, but just what it contained and that it would happen. In some way, the full mental, soulful, and both body-physical as well as physical relic of the moment made it complete. There is something sensually important about all parts of it, including the cleaning up.

Since that day almost three decades ago, I still desire it. It is the only routine activity in life that I deeply enjoy. Dinner may be a distant second. Sleep is OK when I don't have night terrors. I can't consider intercourse as routine because it depends on participation of another.

For me, the greatest reward is not the end, but the journey. Whether it is fantasy-based, visually inspired, spontaneously enjoyed, shared with another person beside me, or whatever it brings, the build-up is the ultimate pleasure.
Since masturbation is a type of sex, my tastes for it and intercourse are similar. It is all about the journey. I love a long erotic journey as much as I like the quick, intensely passionate sessions.
We all have triggers, stimuli, and needs that make us take this solitary journey. Mine are mostly visual like the things I mentioned in Those Simple Little Things. They include a scent, a memory, a sound, a voice, a setting, or most anything can send me along my way was well. Being a sensual (and/or very horny) guy, it doesn't take much of a trigger. I wonder what are triggers for others.
Some common things that must happen during the session. Even if it is a photo of a stranger that starts the journey, I must have some connection to the person other than that. It could be as simple as a shared glance on the bus, a deep conversation, worked together, ongoing correspondence, and other personal interactions. For this reason, I never had a movie star play a role in the "monent" except one who I met at an event. We shook hands and chatted for fifteen seconds. That was enough.
As mentioned above, alone time does not have to be alone for me. Some of the most intimately deep moments with a person were both of us together doing that. You have to feel very comfortable with the person to share that. I think intercourse is easier and less personal.

Family Traits

Waiting
Photo by SB

I was going to write about the power of the comma, or some other minor topic until I read Dr. L's amazing post on acknowledging sexuality in her family. Please take a moment to read it before continuing on with my post. I will wait.

Here is the link.
Beautiful, wasn't it?

While reading it I remembered similar snippets of my family experiences and wanted to share my own story. As humans we all can trace part of what we have become to those who proceeded us in our families. This is true of our good and bad qualities. One of these parts I contribute to my lineage is that I enjoy an erotic, sensual existence.

"Moral" people disgust me with their living lies. Look at all the recent "moral" elected officials who have been caught dallying with mistresses, gay lovers, and interns. I don't judge their desires, I judge their hypocritical lives of judging me and then doing the same things. I am sure they were raised to be "moral" and "true." They were taught their way was the "true" way and to help save others who can be saved and throw the unsaved and "unsaveable" into repression and hell.

Like you, and every other human, I come from the result of sex (OK fellow Christians, I am sure someone will say there was one virgin birth, but I am not to going argue Jesus' birth status here). My parents have issues and faults that I am still working through, but a great positive thing that I got from them was to enjoy sex. They never preached on the morality of sex, but taught me the responsibilities that go with it.

When I was in second grade, I had a huge existential quandary. My parents never hid the fact that babies come from their mothers. I know I am my mother's son, but how am I my father's son? I asked my mom that same question after school.

My mom is a nurse and has seen it all. When I asked that question of her she was around 42 and was pretty damn wise. Her nursing persona took over and she told me about sex. She gave me the clinical description of everything from erections, sperm, eggs, penis, vagina, ...the whole medical textbook of it. After hearing the technical talk, I asked her something like, "Why would anyone want to do that?"

Her persona changed and she smiled, "It is fun. You'll figure that part out someday."

Every year during childhood I had a physical. One year the doctor noticed I had started puberty. He told my mom in private about it. After dinner my mom and dad wanted to talk to me alone and assured me nothing was wrong.

My dad started off by telling me I was becoming a man. My mom then told me that I was becoming sexually aware and that at times this could be awkward, emotional, and life changing. I already had started having those feelings, so I knew what they were saying. At this point, they gave me the responsibility talk. It was not a guilt talk though. They emphasized how important love was and that sex was a deep part of it.

Back then STDs were not a major concern with teens, but pregnancy was. They told me about condoms and said that if I was going to have sex, use them. They also told me about wet dreams and masturbation (I had already discovered that one, but did not tell them). All of this was done in an affirming, awkward (naturally so) and positive way.

Those memories came back to my consciousness by reading Dr. L's post. At the end of it, a deep set of memories congealed into a truth about the sexual side of my family beyond my parents.

My dad's dad was an artist. He manly painted landscapes of pastoral beauty. When he died, all of his paintings were distributed though the family.

One of the paintings we got was the one nude (that we know of) painting he created. The tall brunette is a classic beauty in a pose similar to Maxfield Parrish's, Ecstasy, but nude. Innocent yet very erotic. The skin tones, expression, and curves of the body were unmistakeably erotically tinged. You could tell it was not the usual stuff my grandfather painted because the "quality" of the finished product was not there as it was with his other works. Nudes were not his forte.

When I was in college, I was going through an old photo album of my grandparents. In one photo, there was the woman in the painting wearing a swim suit. She was so beautiful, so young, ... and so much my grandmother.

As I read Dr. L's post, I thought of that painting and it made me very happy and proud of my family by connecting that erotic love is a cherished part of it. My grandparents painted that nude during the Depression. By the looks of it, they weren't too depressed. That alone shows the power and beauty of our erotic selves to overcome the ugliness that "moral" humans bring upon humanity.

Waiting
Photo by SB

Photo note... I love working with these images of Candace and I love working with Candace.

Us vs. Them... Too Much Information

Peace
Photo by SB

My finger is slowly mustering to write again after the injury last Friday. While my writing finger was on the injured list this weekend, I photographed a wedding. In principle, I don't like photographing weddings, but I will do it to help out.

A friend of mine, Claire, was asked to photograph her friend's wedding. This was Claire's first wedding and she was nervous. This was my fifth. Up front, I want to say the wedding couple were beautiful, their families were mostly nice to each other, and everyone thanked the photographers. I don't know why they thank the photographers before seeing the photos we captured.

Most of the groom's and a small part of the bride's families attend a non-denominational mega-church. The pastor of the church presided. His order of ceremony was different because he married the couple then gave a sermon. Usually the sermon is before the vows.

During his sermon, he read every passage from the Bible mentioning marriage between a man and a woman (or as the former Miss California called it, "Opposite marriage.") He did not outright say anything about the gay marriage issue, but it was floating in the air. I found out later the groom's uncle (dad's side) who attended is gay. I wonder how he felt.

I am not going to go off on some rant about their limited views. I was in their space. This was their event. I respect their free speech rights. I just snapped a few more pictures of the guests and tuned him out.

Over the rest of the weekend, I didn't think about it. This morning I read an interesting article at Slate.com. It was a review about the new book, Going to Extremes, by Cass Sunstein. This article made me think of the cultural divide developing in our country. Here are a few key points in the review.

"In the roughly three decades between the election of Ronald Reagan and last autumn's global financial collapse, social scientists and public-policy thinkers were obsessed with the way society seemed to grow more fragmented as it grew more prosperous. Almost everyone diagnosed a growing gap between rich and poor, but the polarization was not just economic."

"...people were sorting themselves by measured intelligence and scholastic achievement."

"... while daily newspapers confront people with all kinds of material they didn't ask for, the Web allows them to dodge what they disagree with." (emphasis by me)

"In theory, the Internet opens people up to new ways of looking at things. In practice, it lets people wall themselves off in informational micro-environments of their own design. It makes them not more cosmopolitan but more parochial."

Very interesting points. With all the information available to us, we should be more enlightened and cosmopolitan. Instead, we are insulating ourselves with an overabundance of like-minded thought and material. We are not exposing ourselves to other views because we can find so much concurring beliefs that we can avoid the me easily.

It is so easy to look at the people at the wedding and think of them as narrow-minded conservative Christians. They were in a sheltered place of like mined people sharing in their extremist ideas. Tsk tsk.

Wait a minute, as I look through my browsing history on my computer (ignoring my "research" of nude photos) I notice almost all my web travels are to left-leaning, artistic, erotic, anti-2257 sites and blogs. Slate.com is pretty liberal as is NPR and other news sites I read. My blog friends share a majority of my views. Most of my daily life friends do to. Am I insulating myself as much as the conservative Christians I just tsked?

So, is it bad that I insulate myself as much as the other groups? My answer, yes and no. I should learn more about their side. Maybe if I understand their motivation, I can find ways of addressing them and finding middle ground. On the other hand, we need the extremist beliefs on both sides to keep the middle in check.

I am naturally attracted to people who share similar passions, beliefs, desires, tastes, and motivations and so will people on the other side of the cultural divide. All of this is a bit disconcerting because I don't want to live in a fractured country.

At the end of the review, there are some interesting ideas from legal philosopher Heather Gerkin concerning the different levels of diversity.

Gerken distinguishes between first-order diversity (diversity within institutions) and second-order diversity (diversity among institutions). To simplify, the first involves insuring that the newsroom of the Los Angeles Times has a certain number of Latinos; the second involves ensuring that the public can choose between, say, the Los Angeles Times, the New Republic, and the Final Call. It is OK if certain institutions aren't diverse as long as society has a diversity of institutions.

It is unrealistic to expect me, or them, to willingly increase the diversity of our groups. We may have different flavors in my group, but we are all basically ice cream. The other side is jello, many flavors, but still jello. My point is not about race or religion, it is about how humans congregate together and what pulls us into like-minded groups.

I really hope the internet and other media sources can achieve the second-order diversity. Since I am not going to join a conservative Christian church to inject my liberal ideas and try to learn theirs, I doubt they will join mine. By having all of these sources of knowledge and ideas available to everyone, those seeking answers may find what they need. There is the problem again though, as stated by the article author. "...it lets people wall themselves off in informational micro-environments of their own design." With that, the cultural divide continues to grow.

Boycott My State, Or At Least Parts of It

County Vote Tallies - LA Times

As you probably heard, the California Supreme Court upheld the constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriages (PROP 8) that passed in the 2008 general election. They also ruled the ~18,000 gay marriages performed last year are valid.

I heard a lot of commentary on the decision. In ways the court was right because Prop 8 was passed and did not conflict, in its process, with the state's constitution. While the actual action of it is discriminatory, the way it was proposed and voted on was legal.

In the past few months, I wrote about my personal boycott of Utah because of the Mormon Church's heavy-handed influence on the PROP 8 issue. While I am still boycotting Utah, especially the Salt Lake City area, I must look inward to my own state.

I am going to boycott spending money (as much as possible) in any county that had a majority of "yes" votes for PROP 8. Here is how I plan to boycott it.

I will not do the following in these counties:

• Shop in stores or buy online from
  
• Buy gas
• Eat in restaurants
• Stay in hotels ( I will camp in them because the money goes to the state or the federal forest service. I will bring my own food.)

Since most of the food I eat comes from the central valley, I will have to buy eats from the "Yes" counties. My goal though will be to go to farmer's markets and buy from the farmers that produce in the "No" counties as much as possible.

In addition to my actions, I am going to write the appropriate chambers of commerce to tell them of my decisions. I doubt my few thousand dollars per year will mean much to them, but at least I can make sure my money is going into communities that did not support hate.

Here is a link from The LA Times that shows vote tallies for each county. If you support gay marriage and social liberty, please join me in my boycott. I would support your avoiding the "Yes" counties, or even avoiding the state. If you do participate in the boycott, please write to the appropriate chambers of commerce to tell them why.

I am thankful most of the great wine producing counties voted "NO."

"I'm Too Sexy"

Hands Moving
Photo and alterations by SB

Gatochy wrote an amazing blog about male sexuality and how it can be both oppressing and oppressed. Please read it before reading this.

I want to quote one special part:
The only reason I'm even mentioning this is because it backs up my theory that men (my lawyer just whispered into my ear I should say "some" men, but we don't do disclaimers at Gatochy's Blog. We also never preface anything with a "full disclosure". I don't owe anyone full disclosure about anything.) men have a genuine problem with regarding themselves as a sexy.

This is a very true statement. It is hard for most straight men ( I will not speak for gay men because I feel they don't have as much of this problem as straight or bisexual men) to view themselves as sexy. I think it is the fear that if I say to myself, "Damn, I have sexy arms.", I may subconsciously be saying that I find men's arms sexy... which means I am gay. I know that sounds silly, but most of the stuff that floats through everyone s' heads at the subconscious level is silly.

When I turned 36 I decided I needed to take better care of myself. I dropped 40 lbs, worked out, got some sun (but not too much since my scandanavian skin burns in three seconds) and got into decent shape. I did this because my marriage was almost dead, sex was gone, and I felt I needed to feel good about myself inside and out.

As I lost the weight and increased my fitness, I noticed subtle psychological changes. I stopped stooping (tall guys stoop a lot) and stood at my 6'4" height with pride. I noticed that when I saw myself in the mirror as I dried off that the sagging fat had turned into muscles with some definition. This made me feel proud. This gave me confidence that I can be sexy. One big observation of these changes came when an attractive woman gave me the full eye scan from head to toe as I left a local coffee shop and held the door for her. It was the first time in years that I realized... she checked me out. I felt sexy.

Now feeling sexy is more than having a nice body or a great smile. It is also the attitude about sex. I love sex. I love all things about it. I love how it brings the individual sexiness of two people together into a unique blend that could not exist without each other. Sex can be sweet, deep, touching. It can be rough and raw and filled with animal passions. Being sexy and sexual also allows me to enjoy the three gifts it offers.

First, it is sexy to give pleasure. It is also an ego boost when you make your lover melt sexually, but that boost is not too important to me. There is a deep sense of intimacy seeing my lover enjoy and release to passion and pleasure through my efforts. It is also sexy to share new things with a lover and to both teach and learn from them. The deep warmth of giving some one special all your focus on their pleasure and bringing them to a very deep release, then holding them and caring for them as they come down from it is a gift for both to enjoy.

Second, it is sexy to be open to receiving pleasures. When I first became sexually active, I struggled letting go of control and just sitting back and letting her focus on my pleasure. I finally learned my lesson when one time she awoke before me. She noticed my arousal and gently woke me up and took me to the beautiful end without me needing to engage at all. I just layed back, looked down to her and enjoyed the pure beauty of the moment.

Third, and maybe the best gift of being sexual, sexy and loving sex is when both of us are working together to make the moment more than just the two of us. We are focusing on each other's pleasures, our own pleasures, and the combined pleasure of the building arousal and release. I still flush when I think of a special time in Spain where all three or these gifts culminated together into a life-changing moment for me.

Being sexy for both men and women is more than physical appearance. It is also the belief that he or she is sexy. I am not talking about cockiness, just confidence. Everyone has something sexy about them. It could be his smile, her laugh, his kiss, her hands. It is ok to feel sexy about yourself. Sex involves trust. You not only have to trust the person you are with, but you have to trust that you have something to bring to event.

So, here is my statement. I can be sexy, sexual, and recognize these things in myself. I also recognize sexiness in other men. It doesn't necessarily reflect on my sexual preferences. I am not ashamed to look at the photo of the guy laying back in Gatochy's blog and say, "Damn, that is sexy." Sexy is sexy.


I can't believe this song is 17 years old. It still makes me chuckle.

Need a New Battery

Abandoned
Photo by SB

Today, I worked out for the first time since December. I challenged and conquered the Stair Master at the gym. The battle lasted 20 minutes and was epic with its changes in speeds and paces. Thankfully, I watched TV during the duel, which helped take my mind off of how much strength and stamina I had lost in the past four months. After that monumental achievement, I lifted weights for a bit and then hit the shower. Once there I made a sad discovery... as I wrapped the towel around my waste, I noticed I did not have as much slack in the tuck at the top as it did last year. Sigh.

After enjoying a healthy turkey sandwich for lunch (sans mayo and cheese, lots of veggies and mustard) and a banana, I went back to work. It felt good to have pushed my metabolism up. I had much more energy than normal to complete my work tasks. It was like getting a new battery for myself.

Now the ironic part (well, I am not sure if it is ironic, maybe just coincidental), the battery in my truck died. This evening I wanted to take my old truck for a spin and show its shiny new paint job to my auto body repair teacher. First I flooded the engine. Since it had sat for a month with out starting, the old battery was near dead. My trying to crank it over with a flooded engine was the coup de grace.

I had to push the 2.4 ton behomoth out of my single lane drive way and onto the street with my wife steering it so we could get our Subaru nosed up to it for a jump start. Ann is amazingly strong. I say this because this old beast has manual steering and we were moving slow. I prefer to call it "armstrong" steering instead of "manual" steering. After pushing it out into the narrow street, the truck stopped in the trough of the rain gutter at a 45 degree angle to the street. I tried pushing with all my might, but I could not roll it forward or back. Just as I was about to get pissed and do something stupid, like pull it with my Subaru, a short blond mom (in her thirties I would guess) came to my rescue. She was driving by in her mid 90's BMW filled with two little kids and stopped to ask if I needed help. Hell, I don't have too much pride so I accepted. Mom and I braced ourselved on the front bumper and pushed as my wife steered the beast in an arc. I was amazed at how strong these two women were. We were pushing the truck up twenty feet up the gradual hill that my street follows. At that point the truck was pointed downhill. Mom and I went to the back end and lightly nudged the truck and gravity took over and my wife parallel parked it.

The mom then turned to her two small boys and flexed her muscles and they cheered for her and clapped their little hands. I bet they will always remember the day their mom pushed a big truck out of the way.

Unfortunately, the jumpstart plan failed. I went and bought a new battery and installed it. After letting the flooded engine set, I tried starting it. It coughed to life, fighting to turn over in it's fuel-rich state. After running rough for few seconds the familiar manly throbbing V8 regained it's composure and was ready for duty.

My shop teacher was pleased with the paint job and my work. I was pleased with it too. I think I was even more pleased with my overall day of working out, working hard at work, pushing a behemoth truck (with some needed help) and getting the old girl (Yes. My truck is a she, but she has a male engine. In a future post I will write about my hermaphroditic truck) running again.

Tomorrow, I jog. I am guessing it will be more of a shuffle than jog, but it will feel good.

In My Own Bed, Not Yours.. Now Get Out!

On Saturday I flew across the country and during the flight noticed a few a things. On final approach into Salt Lake City, I had never noticed before how damn big the Great Salt Lake is. It doesn't look that deep, but it spreads all over the valley it is in. It is a pretty impressive brackish goo, but its inhospitable appearance matched my opinions of the town I flew into.

I spent an hour lay-over in SLC and refused to spend a dime there. I am boycotting the state of Utah as much as I can. I could not avoid flying there for a lay over, but my money will not help their economy.

As many of you know, California had a ballot initiative to make gay marriage illegal. It was called PROP 8. Many outside-of-California interests came flooding into the state to push for the passage of it. One of the largest groups were the Mormons from SLC. Partly because of them and other fundamentalist zealots, PROP H8 passed and now same-sex marriages are illegal (again).

It may seem obvious why I am mad at the Mormon church. Actually their opposition to same-sex marriage is their belief (which I feel is very misguided) and they have a right to hold it. My big problem with them is that they came into my state and crammed their beliefs and interests down our throats! It is my state, not yours. If you are against same-sex marriages, then don't move here. I don't get involved in your state's politics. I don't live there. Arizona passed a similar initiative. I was not going to go there and try to influence their vote because that is their state's choice, not mine.

As I walked through the SLC airport on Saturday and again today on my return trip, I saw restaurants selling alcohol. I saw a smoking lounge. I saw so many other things that must be against the morals of the Mormon church, but were being sold just miles from the big temple. I just had to shake my head and go to my gate, hoping the airline would have a snack on the plane since I was really hungry and was on a geographical hunger fast. The airline had peanuts and ginger ale.

So, to the narrow-minded folks in Utah ( I know a few open-minded folks live in Utah, around Moab, and other open areas) stay out of my state's politics. Stay out of my state's issues and I will stay out of yours. Most of all, stay out of my bed and my marriage. I will stay out of yours as well.




PS- I am jet-lagged and tired. I want to write more about my trip and also about wonderful write up my blog received this week when I can give both my full thought.

The Check Engine Light of Life

I saw that fucking little light come on in my Subaru this morning while driving down I-80. I was sipping my spiritually nourishing coffee (I can feel the flow of my morning coffee touch every molecule in my body and it is decaf. I love really good coffee.), I was listening to NPR and in a gentle mood. I looked down and the fuel light came on. My mind slowly thought of upcoming off-ramps and which had gas stations. A few minutes and one NPR story later, a second light came on. This light has never come on in over 100,000 miles.

CHECK
ENGINE

It didn't blink. It just stayed on. A very quick, one word version of "Ohshitfuck!" slipped from my lips. I instantly got that prickle shock of fear, dread, and danger to my financial well being that the light usually signifies.

I found a gas station, parked, ran my debit card, and started gassing up the Subbie. I dug out the owner's manual to see how bad the news was. If the light isn't blinking, take it immediately to an authorized Subaru dealer. FUCK!

It also mentioned that if the light came on shortly after filling the gas tank it could be the cap is not on tight enough. It came on at the end of the tank of gas, not the beginning. FUCK!

This afternoon I am going to take it my mechanic. He has the fancy $10,000 computer that will talk to my car's computer and discuss what the problem is. I am hoping it is an O2 sensor. Cheap and easy.

The computers in our cars are far more powerful than the computers that were on the Apollo moon missions. Diagnosis is faster and easier than ever. My old 1970 truck is completely analog. When something goes wrong with it, my mechanic or I have to spend a lot of time thinking, "It could be this, or this, or that. Let me disconnect this spark plug and tighten that while you adjust the throttle. If it acts this way, then it is that problem." Not as simple as a computer saying, "the engine misfired at 3000rpm due to faulty injector number 3."

I am jealous of the my car's instant answers. For the past few years, my personal "CHECK ENGINE" light has flickered on and off. I learned to put a piece of mental black tape over the light to ignore it, but I know it still comes on.

Right now, I am wondering what is broken in my life. What do I need to get fixed? I need to lose 10 lbs. Exercise is a great idea. My eating habits could be improved. My sleeping is bad. My marriage is rolling along like a ship in the waves of the stormy ocean, but at least the bow is pointed into them. My artistic angst is there, but I find I need that or I don't do anything. I am nervous about being laid off. My backyard is a mess and could use a few hard days of labor to make it presentable. My credit cards are paid off (hooray!)

So, why is my personal "CHECK ENGINE" light on? On my car, that little light instructs you to get off your ass and get it to a mechanic, ASAP. Maybe that is what my personal light is telling me too.

Dr. L wrote a great post about a her thoughts on a similar issue.

We can wait around for Godot, that someone or something to come along and give us "the answer," to bring meaning to our lives. Or we can get up off our butts and go forward to find it.


My wife has a great saying for times of indecision. I don't know if she created it or who thought of it. "You need to either shit or get off the pot." It is very crude and blunt, but effective.

So, where is that cool computer that can talk to my personal "CHECK ENGINE" light? I guess I am as analog as my old truck and am going to have to tinker with my life until I find the solutions. Damn, I wish had an owner's manual for that.

For better or for worse...

For better or for worse,
In sickness and health.

First, I am feeling better. I am still coughing a bit, but my energy is back and I finished my antibiotics. My mood is better because the mute button is off! Today is the first day I've been able to sit down and write.

This month is a crazy one for me. Yesterday, I photographed a friend's wedding. Next week, I am flying to New York to attend (but not photograph, thank God) another wedding. The week after that I am flying out to Washington DC for a conference.

Last Thursday, I returned to work while still having the "MUTE" button on. By Friday, my voice was almost back, just had no endurance. Yesterday, I drove down to Fresno for the wedding.

It was a pretty day. The groom was handsome, the bride was truly beautiful. Most of the families behaved and old family issues stayed barely below the surface.

This is the third wedding I've photographed. All were free. What did I learn from photographing a wedding?

1. Have a plan and shoot list, but be ready to bend it, break it, and then return to it.
2. Have batteries, memory cards or film, lots of them.
3. Try not to flirt with the women... too much.
4. Do not photograph weddings for money, unless you are good at it and really love it. Unfortunately, neither are true for me.

So, this last week of mine is aptly named, For better or for worse.