“The role you made me play”

“I have a role to play.”

These words, said out loud before I have a moment to think about them, hover in the spaces between her lips and mine. My hands are tied above my head. My shirt unbuttoned. This is her need. A moment of control over something in her life.

She pulls away from me. She digs through her over-sized purse, pulling out a Zippo-style lighter and a vanilla-scented candle. She sparks the light and lights the wick. All I can do is stare at the dancing flame as she rotates the candle, making sure to get the wax ready.

How many times has she imagined this scenario in her head? I’m sure the person in it was in better shape. Better equipped to fulfill the need gnawing at her.

She tips the candle just enough for the wax to dribble down. I tense at the sensation. The burn.

“Are you usually this submissive?” she asks.

“I’m whatever you need me to be,” I say.

Her phone rings after. She sends it to voicemail before putting back into her purse. It rings again.

“You better answer it,” I say. “It could be your husband.”

Also See:


“I’m not gonna teach him how to dance, dance, dance”

Last night, I compiled my fourth playlist since I started up again. The soundtrack to a fake romantic comedy about a girl who works as a barista. Inspired by nothing and everything. I made two copies. One for Angela (I promised her one way before it ever came to fruition), and one for me. A good amount of time spent on thinking about it, I realized that it’s something I may attempt later in the future. I just need to carve out the story a little more, and pepper it with romantic comedy clichés—”[T]his song sorta gives it the kissing in the rain feel. Which, as we all know, is romantic (but not in real life as rain water is really dirty due to all the pollution in the air).” For those of you reading this and wanting to recreate my playlist (I’d totally share it with you if I had the ability and disposable income), I’ll add the track list at the bottom of this post.

Angela's copy
Angela’s copy

For the cover and CD art, I used a collage by Ashton Cutright entitled “Summer Reprise,” which you can buy at Etsy. Ashton and Miranda’s CDs were the first to feature art on the cover and CD label. It’s something I’m probably going to add from now one because, as I’ve stated before, I love making these CDs and creating arte for them adds to the fun. Like scribbling doodles on the cassette tape sleeve.

Ω  Ω  Ω


Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission
Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission

So the above happened today. Upon receiving my copy of Serving Him edited by the sultry Rachel Kramer Bussel, I noticed the packaged open. No explanation. No attempt to tape up the violation of my package. It’s been some time since I received an erotic book to review in the mail. About a year, actually. Copies have been sent to me via e-mail for Kindle or Nook readers (I have a Samsung Galaxy Tab 3, and I use the Nook app due to Amazon’s tight ass restrictions on their Kindle app). It’s sad that Ms. Bussel may take the same route because the USPS decided to open and lose several packages because they suspect that their media mail service is being abused.

I started the book, checking off Lori Selke’s “What You Deserve.” I won’t review the story here (not yet).

Ω  Ω  Ω

My coworker told me his creative well has run dry. It’s something I’m familiar with. However, there’s never been a time that I couldn’t write. It’s just what I write isn’t worth reading or worth the time spent writing it. Words, good or bad, never failed me. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s going through.

I force myself to write something every day. Good or bad, just keep writing and things will get better. I read as much as I write and I’m reading less these days. I need to change that. Need to switch off the TV and the computer once in a while and just start writing.

  1. I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You – Black Kids
  2. Teenage Angst – Placebo
  3. My Body’s A Zombie For You – Dead Man’s Bones
  4. Ah Uh Mi Hed – Shuggie Otis
  5. All I Want – Kodaline
  6. Memory – Sugarcult
  7. I Love Rock And Roll – Zombina & The Skeletones
  8. Recycled Air – The Postal Service
  9. Make Me Fall – Nina Nesbitt
  10. Sideways – Citizen Cope
  11. Breathe – Sia
  12. True Love Waits (Live in Oslo) – Radiohead
  13. Geek Love – Nerina Pallot
  14. Teenage Angst (Piano Version) – Placebo
  15. Swimming Pool – Freezepop
  16. I Melt With You – Modern English


Word Sex

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.” ― Anaïs Nin

“The men in the room are all bent into interesting positions. A big blond stands on his hands, balanced and unmoving. Another dangles from rings. A third is leaning over a polished leather horse. Hadley McCarthy watches the men as she moves passed them–imagining that they have been put there for her pleasure, fantasizing that they will never move. Hold still. Stay that way,” begins Alison Tyler‘s novella, Tied up and Twisted (Harlequin Spice). In summation of the story is, Hadley – a domme turned sub – sets her sights on a trainer – “Trainer. In another world, in her other world, the word means something else. There, he’d be Dom. Here, he is Coach.” – while her former sub attempts to win her back. It’s a role reversal I haven’t read before. At least nothing that I found worth retaining. No matter what, a dominate never subs and a sub rarely knows how to dominate. 

I could be wrong, though. I’ve only lived vicariously through stories by Alison Tyler (the writer, not the porn star) and anthologies complied by Rachel Kramer Bussel. I, however, never lived vicariously in anything written by E.L. James. Her writing is just terrible. English majors around the world wept with the first pages alone. And I think that’s the subject of this post – it’s surely not about that weird sex dream I had about an older woman I don’t believe really exists (hence the photo of The Burning Lotus [NSFW]). What?! You haven’t heard about her? Either you’re highly religious or dead (and I consider them same thing), but dude. Yeah. Check that out.

ANYWAY. I like erotica. No. Scratch that. I love erotica. Classy erotica – Anaïs Nin – and the current writers. There’s also the guilty pleasure of poorly written fantasies found on blogs and Literotica rip-off sites. Thanks to the ever evolving technology of the day, writers everywhere (good and bad) are publishing works. Thankfully, a nice percentage of these writers offer freebies and I download for my Kindle. Not all of them are good, mind you. And somehow Fifty Shades of Grey managed to slip by caused such a stir that I’m still recovering from the shock.

Am I glad Erotica is getting noticed? Yes. But it’s never been greatly ignored. The only reason this genre is getting so big is the technology. Trust me, it’s the technology, not because the book is a masterpiece.

I work in the Children’s department of a library. I can’t just carry around a book with a semi-naughty cover and read it during my downtime. Brows will lift.

DAMNIT, I’ve gone off topic again. As I was saying, I love erotica. And I’m glad that it’s in the public view (whether that’s because technology or not, should be saved for another post). However, it’s depressing that something so poorly written is the reason, when writers – real writers who believe in editing and revision – are ignored.

Example, when I first picked up Fifty Shades of Grey – before I quickly put it down again – I commented that I can’t see how this is the book that set off the spark. My co-worker turned and replied, “Have you ever read anything else from the genre? It’s pretty much the same.”

Oh. No. You. Didn’t.

Romance and Erotica might be sister genres, but they are not “pretty much the same.” While publishers like Harlequin are publishing both, I can’t see the where the confusion comes from. But Romance is sex word fodder. Erotica is word sex.

Gonna end this post because I’ve gone off topic. I’ll talk about the other thing later. A compare and contrast. Think of this as a rough draft. And the next post a revision.

Books · Music

What happen to us?

You were phenobarbidoll

It seems every one I work with is reading Fifty Shades of Grey, as if it’s some tour de force of literary prowess. It’s not even a decent erotic novel. It’s smut for people who don’t know anything about smut. It makes the cliché pornographic movie look like The Social Network. Yet, somehow, it has hit bestseller lists, wowed critics, caused controversy, and invaded libraries across the country. Like anyone, it piqued my interest. Never before has a book dealing with this subject been in the spotlight, let alone mentioned without a slight blush or in hushed tones.

So what is it about this book that’s got people salivating at the mouth like Pavlov’s dog. Is it hype? Because it can’t be its literary worth. Not even the style. The writing is atrocious, and a joke to the erotic community. Well, at least, it should be.

So what happened to us? When did illiterate drivel become literary masterpieces?

And it’s not just Fifty Shades of Grey. And it’s not just books. It’s everything. Everything has been dumb-down. The Paranormal Activity franchised proved you can bore an audience for three-quarters of a movie and still get them back for two more sequels.

Hordes of homosexuals flocked to Lady Gaga because of the so-called messages in her songs. However, those messages only appeared after her rise to fame – thanks to the homosexual population. Her concept of “born this way” is moneymaking. The more she appeals to the disenfranchised, the more records she sells. It’s not about caring, no. She found her market and she’ll milk it for all its worth. All those fighting for equal rights. All those rallies. The moment they drop her for the next big thing, they’ll fade away into memory.

So why is it that we’ve lost the ability to think for ourselves? Is the next step in our evolution? Are we headed toward the grim future promised to us by Mike Judge? When has the number of sells define the worth of a motion picture, a book, a musical artist? We must reinvent the wheel, as they say. We must start by actually making sound opinions on our own.

Added Bonus

The following is a list of books that are 50x better than Fifty Shades of Grey:


Books · Doldrums

Crestfallen & a Few of My Other Friends

Caption This Contest

It’s nothing amazing, really. It’s blatantly clear – Ron Paul is the Lady Gaga of politics, stealing things and ideas and making people believe he’s original. Like Gaga did with the gay community, Paul is working the disenfranchised. He’s one “born that way” comment away from wearing a meat suit. And it’s not surprising that the backlash of insulting the lush politician comes in threefold – after all, it was  vegan group at my alma mater that stated that “People don’t like it when they’re told they’re living the wrong way.” It’s almost as if the Paul-bots (as oppose to the GOP term, Obama Zombies)  have put their common sense and decency in abeyance. Because Paul is money. He’s the guy who’ll figure out how to fix this broken economy and country. He’s the solution to our war problem. We’ll ignore his (allegedly) racist remarks. We’ll ignore his total disregard to civil rights.

I’m not saying that Ron Paul’s ideas for fixing our economy are bad – they’re actually pretty enlightening if far-fetched. However, we cannot ignore all the damage he’ll do in the long-term. Still Paul-bots will tut-tut, call themselves better educated and follow the false prophet down the wrong side. It’s okay. That’s America. But for every Paul-bot who shouted “Ron Paul 2012” after Rick Perry released his “Strong” campaign ad, there’s a guy like me in the sidelines that’ll correct them – “Ron Paul hates homosexuals just as much Perry. He’s just better at speaking.”


Finished reading my reviewer’s copy of Rachel Kramer Bussel‘s Best Bondage Erotica 2012. Sadly, it took me so damn long to get through it because of my lack of time-management when it comes to studying for the GRE. As stated before, I’m a sex-crazed erotica freak (okay, maybe not in those terms). Found the book quite the read, however, just the sort of thing to read before drifting off into dreamland every night.

Again, Bussel manages to collect the stories that yank at our lusts. Each story is beautifully crafted by some of the best writers in the erotic genre. I’m yearning to see what the 2013 edition will contain – the patience is killing me.


It’s been a week since I’ve heard back from the library. It’s not the best feeling in the world, this anticipation. The last I heard, they were working on a background check. That shouldn’t take took long – I have no driving record. I’m still looking for other places and positions, but that job was just something that I needed and wanted. I can’t think of a better candidate for the job, then again, I think really highly of myself.


The last few weeks has been extensive studying the GRE manual. GRE, by the way, stands for Graduate Record Examinations. It’s essential if I’m to continue with my education – I mentioned I’m seeking my Masters in Library Science, right? Algebra was/is killing me, but what else is new? Geometry is fairly easy, most of what I learned in the past is coming to me gradually. As for the verbal, well, I need to start using the terms in my writing if I’m ever going to remember their definitions.


The kid is still growing and moving around in Jyg’s tummy. I can’t wait to meet him come April. The letters project is coming along okay, but not as well as I expected – best laid plans, am I right? I should start writing more when my mind clears up a bit. With all the things going around me – the election, debates, studying, worrying, etc. – my words fail me. Here’s looking to better days!



“A Pair of C’s to be proud of in college”

I never considered The Pan American – the student newspaper produced in the University of Texas-Pan American – as my go to source for the news. Not even when I was a student there. And as sickening as it was for me, I even published an article in the paper. Just one. I dropped out afterwards – the newspaper, not the college. However, earlier this week, someone posted the above picture on Facebook. It appears that Dr. Luis Rios – you can find him at 2101 Cornerstone Boulevard, Edinburg, TX 78539 or call him at (956) 682-3147 – took some ad space in the paper. Now I don’t know which imbecile thought it was a good idea to run the ad, but someone has some explaining to do. Keep in mind, it’s not so much that the paper decided to run an ad for a local plastic surgeon. That’s not the complaint. The complaint here screams off the ad – “A pair of C’s to be proud of in college” with pictures of young, college-aged women flaunting their well-endowed chests. Because the sole thing a woman should be worried about in college is her self-image. That whole studying and graduating crap, well, that’s just silly. Haven’t you heard it’s hard to find a job these days? So just stop trying. Get a pair of nice tits and snag a guy who’s on the up-and-up, on his way to the top and be his trophy wife. Problem solved. It used to be that women only attended college to find husbands and drop out afterward. Things, of course, changed for the better. My Chicana/Feminist professors used to boast about how the university was thriving with women on their way to making a name for themselves. Though it seems that Dr. Luis Rios and the entire Pan American writing and editing staff feel different. Perhaps they’d rather keep women focusing on self-image – idling celebrities like Kim Kardashian and not political women like Hillary Clinton. Defamation of Character Now it’s easy to tsk tsk me about hypocrisy. On Twitter alone, I follow Playboy, Hugh Hefner and several erotic writers such as – but not limited to – Alison Tyler – no connection to the porn star of the same name – Rachel Boleyn and Rachel Kramer Bussel. Let’s not forget that I also follow former porn star-turned-mainstream-actor-slash-musician (she’s doing music, right? I’m not mistaken about that?), Sasha Grey. Anyone with that information can state that I should have no stance on the argument because – so far as connecting the dots go – I seem to objectify women all on my own. That’s not true. If I did, Jyg would’ve pummeled me with her fists a long time ago.

Notice the tabs

Fact of the matter is, I read Playboy every once in a while. That is to say, I read Playboy. Really read it. My favorite issues being – or once were, since I don’t go out and buy them, anymore – the ones published every October. Why? Short story contests. But every guy says he reads the articles. And everyone just knows that he skips them and heads straight for the center where all the naked women lay. That’s an unfair assessment of me. I’m a Nerd – with a capital ‘N’. The last copy of Playboy I bought was the December 2009 issue which featured a sneak peek at Vladimir Nabokov‘s unfinished, unpublished work, The Original of Laura. The issue also featured Chelsea Handler, a woman I absolutely adore for her tongue in cheek humor. As for Sasha Grey. I respect her. I think she’s the best thing to come out of the porn industry since – well, ever. It’s her moxie that I admire, ever since that Entertainment Tonight piece about her when she started out. Nothing and no one will deter her from the path she’d chosen. Now that she’s out of porn, people are once again bashing her. But how many porn stars can you name that have succeeded in switching from the adult industry to Hollywood? Sasha’s once again in the news because of her determination against the people who are protesting her, attempting to keep her from reading to students as part of some literacy program. And do I really have comment on the erotica thing? And Hugh Hefner? Well, the man built something out of nothing. What’s not to respect? And if it had been any other thing, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, would we? Whatever Happened to the Chicanas/Feminists?

Meanwhile on Twitter

So I commented on Twitter. And yesterday, The Pan American replied back. I was a bit shocked that there wasn’t more of a big deal about it. Rather than hearing the roar of women, I heard my voice. So where  have all the Chicanas gone? They filled the school at one point. I couldn’t turn around without seeing one. They’re amazing people, but this is the sort of thing that used to cause them to file complaints. Instead we get a letter to the editor:

Dear Pan American: I would like to express my discontent with the last issue of the Pan American. I call all the contributors to the newspaper to ask yourselves what you think the newspaper stands for. Is the purpose of the newspaper merely to report what happens at school, or is it also to educate the student body by presenting the political issues that affect us all, provide conscious analysis of society, and above all represent the collective brain of the student body? Everything that is published should reflect your ideology. Furthermore, everything in the newspaper speaks for our university and us, the students. Having said this, I ask you to consider removing your ad on breast implants. Why contribute to the proliferation of some prototype based on superficiality? Why do you present an image of beauty that condemns the natural woman who accepts herself just the way she is? I do not mean to say that getting breast implants is wrong. I think that women should have the right to decide what they want to do with their bodies (in the case of a mastectomy I would definitely consider it). However, the ad was directed towards a specific audience: college girls. Apparently, it is no longer enough to be young, wrinkle-free, and thin. Now, we also need a “pair of C’s.” All the girls in the pictures are smiling, showing off their breasts, with the exception of one who doesn’t even show her face, due to the fact that her breasts are the central focus of the picture. Talk about the objectification of women! Is this the image of happiness and beauty that the newspaper stands for? -Lucila Lopez

Single. Just one. Why wasn’t there more? I’m sure there are other men and women out there that share Lucila Lopez’s thoughts, so why was she only granted space? Why wasn’t there a report on it? Just a single, bottom-of-the-page, almost filler letter to the editor. I don’t think I’ve ever been more disgusted with my alma mater than I am at this moment.