Here we go folks. And welcome back to me all over the place. As I mentioned, it’s been a crazy week, but it’s also been a calming one. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve found my voice and finally have a breath of air amongst the smog that is my mind. A clarity that only writing brings.
My facebook account is growing exponentially, and I imagine I’ll be shut down before May. A few months back when I put my first effort into social media, I pitched a fit about the lack of courtesy and respect I found there. It’s no better than it was, but I’m starting to see some light through the chauvinistic madness. There’s some decent people out there. A few men’ve even asked how the hell I deal with the crazy shit others say.
I ignore it. That’s what I do. Because you can’t fix stupid. Or ignorant. Or assholish.
But I’m not going to hide –yes, I understand the irony of saying that as an anonymous blogger–from who I am. What I am. Loving sex does not make me, or anyone else, a bad person. Nor does it make me a piece of meat.
So that means I put myself out there. Show there’s no shame. Like I’ve said before, I will not be embarrassed.
But I tell you what, Facebook is doing wonderful things for my stats. Hard to believe after all these years, I’m still a stats whore.
A Fickle Little Bitch
If you’re a writer, than you understand when I say the muse is a fickle little bitch. When you’re not writing, her visits stop. And then you’re stuck. Stuck with no ideas, no flowing words, no idea what the fuck you’re supposed to do. Welcome to the world of writer’s block.
I’ve always believed you have to push through that. Me, my job is words. Without words, there is no paycheck. If you’re not ready when the muse appears, you’ll miss her, and nothing ever changes. That meant my philosophy was always to be ready. I carry a notebook. I use apps. I’ve got pens and journals coming out my ass.
Yeah. Well, that’s all bullshit. You want to know how to become inspired? Write. Write anything and everything. If you don’t know what to write, write randomness. The ABCs. The lyrics to Stairway to Heaven. Just bring the pen to paper and make it move.
Once you’re writing, the ideas spawn. And grow and morph and change into something bigger. This is what blogging does for me. When I’m not blogging, I write what needs to be written, but never what I want. I get stuck, not knowing what to write. Saying I have no ideas.
That’s because I’m not writing. Write, and then you will have ideas. That’s how it works. The more you do it, the better it gets and the more you want it. It’s the same way as sex.
The Best of the Week
So this post by Mrs. Fever was by far one of the best things I’ve read in a long time. In so many ways. It’s touching. Erotic. Heartbreaking. Hopeful. Hot as fuck. And more than anything, truthful.
Stumbled upon this blog this week. It kicks ass. Not much writing. Maybe none, now that I think about it. But if you like t and a, you’ll love it.
So I’m working on this book about sex after menopause, and that means I’m doing more sex research than normal. Not sure how I ended up reading about the clit of female squirrel monkeys, but I had to share this.
“Female squirrel monkeys use their large clitoris to display dominance over other individuals in the hierarchy of the group.”
“The subordinate female individuals lick the clitoris of the higher ranked females as a clear sign of submission and obedience.”
I love it. Drunk on too much wine, this shit was cracking me up last night.
A Quick Favor
And hey, listen. I’ve been messing around with a mock site, changing themes and what not. I’ve decided to maybe switch to a magazine style theme. As readers, what do you think? Do you prefer the traditional blog format, where it’s scrolling through prose, or do you prefer the magazine style, where there’s a much more visual aspect. Let me know in the comments!
I gotta head out y’all. It’s late and I’m in the process of missing a 10 piece deadline.
*hugs and kisses*