On Twitter

Some said it couldn't be done!

Some said it had to be done!

Either way, Me and this blog and the whole #EP experience (it's not a blog, it's a lifestyle!) are now on Twitter.

Lenora X

@Lenora__X

Accept no substitutes!  Follow Me now!  That's an order!  (Plus I have no shame -- follow Me and I'll follow you.  Everyone gets numbers.)

(thank you, lissa)

Placeholder / Reminder

Still here.

Look for something new, soon.


Love and Kisses . . .


L.

I did it!

Damn . . . one entire calendar year (plus) without posting!

I never thought of neglecting a blog as a way of measuring time, but looking and seeing that My last post was November of 2010 really kind of put 2011 into a totally different light.

Cliched as it might be, 2011 really did fly by . . . and I thought about the blog many times. There is a Lenora X story out there in need of an ending. There is Journey Down, which I intended to be a long, frequently-added-to story. Funny/stupid things still happen to Me . . . I want to share those things. And of course there are a lot of thoughts about D/s, music, politics, and life in general that constantly occur to Me and which deserve to live in print.

Why haven't I posted, then?

I honestly don't know. I'll go with the old standby that having a life is incompatible with blogging regularly.

No one can prove I don't have a life!

Video Jukebox: Ex-Girl To Next Girl

A brilliant rap from a simpler time, when a guy could rap about his girl troubles without resorting to flagrant misogyny.

Witty, funny, and musical . . . light-years ahead of so much crap that has come down the pike since.

Video Jukebox: You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do As You're Told)

Brother and sister. Guitar and drums. Not even a bass player. That's the White Stripes. It sounds like it can't possibly work, but it does. Amazingly well, in fact.

Video Jukebox: Birds Of Fire

Jazz isn't my thing. Nor is jazz-rock fusion, or electric jazz, or whatever you want to call it.

There is however one major exception -- The Mahavishnu Orchestra, a group that defined that fusion genre like no other. While every member displayed great musicianship, the driving force was guitar virtuoso John McLaughlin.

McLauhglin's guitar playing is . . . spiritual, is the only word that fits. And the only other guitarist I'd use that adjective in praise of is Hendrix. Technically, he does things that I've heard few others do, and none other with the fluidity and seamlessness that McLaughlin does.

In a 2003 survery, McLauhglin was ranked #49 among the 100 Greatest Guitarists Of All Time. #49 is about . . . 47 places too low, to My way of thinking.

This accompanying video is a series of beautiful kaleidoscopic "birds" by a very talented person known as mxurbanski. Watch and listen . . . and don't worry, you might feel like you've taken peyote, but this trip is 100% legal.

Video Jukebox: Polk Salad Annie

Tonight's selection -- Tony Joe White doing a better version of the song Elvis had a hit with. TJW's version is less mannered, more down, more . . . unnnnh!!

Totally infectious tune.

When Life Imitates The Comics

Most people have read a Dilbert strip at some point. But you can tell people who have never worked in a company of any size -- when they read Dilbert, they might chuckle, or smile, or generally have a minor reaction. To these people -- Dilbert is funny, but they think it's highly exaggerated . . . not real enough to be truly hilarious.

Those who have worked in any medium-large sized company for any length of time know better. As My girl lissa said the other night, "Dilbert is dead-fucking-on."

In many ways Dilbert is not only a reflection of the office workplace but a predictor. Catbert, the evil HR Director, who at one time seemed like a parody of a villain, is now shown to be pretty much standard issue. The willfully stupid things the company and the boss do in Dilbert can be read right off the headlines now.

And I've noticed over the past few years, especially, that employees now are much more likely to show their Dilbert-like awareness of the reality than they ever were before. We office drones who used to toil in silent acceptance of the essential stupidity and meaningless of the office experience now are much more likely to act like we know what we know -- and why not? The worst that can happen -- losing one's job -- is more than likely to happen anyway. If we are not laid off or moved to Topeka or outsourced to Bangladesh or downsized or right-sized, we might hang on for a while . . . or not. After a while the knowledge that there are lots of younger/cheaper/stupider/more naive people they can get for My job loses its power.

So Dilbert is not just a diversion, not just a refreshing bit of humor from a guy who gets it. If you think of it the right way, it's a very subtle reaffirmation of the human spirit. And while our employers have managed to mostly eradicate that spirit from the workplace (and get very big bonuses for doing so, apparently), it's not totally gone.

It's important to remember that. And to laugh. And to adopt the tag line from the strip above as My personal motto:

"I'm tempted to stop acting randomly."

Tempted, mind you.

Video Jukebox: Existential Baby

A great song by Die So Fluid.

That's Georgina "Grog" Lisee singing and being generally cool (and hot).

No One Shines In The Dark

subs (girls, mostly) talk to Me. I'm a good listener . . . I don't judge, I don't sugarcoat the truth, but I'm sympathetic.

There is a girl I'll call phoebe I talk to a couple of times a month, on average. phoebe is an intelligent girl in her 30s, an experienced submissive with a good sense of humor and a lot to give.

phoebe has been on again off again on again off again with a Domme in Her 20s, Who I'll refer to as Miranda. Miranda and phoebe, from what phoebe tells Me, have a great sexual chemistry, and are highly compatible in many aspects of D/s.

Where M and p have fallen apart is as a result of M's method of administering discipline.

p described that one of M's typical punishments is for p to sit in a totally dark room for hours at a time, presumably contemplating the error of her ways. This would be for something relatively minor on the scale of infractions. Over time, p got to resent this form of punishment . . . her attempts to talk to M about her frustrations fell on deaf ears, and eventually p left (for the second time), in order to preserve her sanity.

While there might be benefits to sitting in the dark (that's another post), M's method of punishment showed Her insecurity and immaturity.

The idea of punishment is for the submissive to learn the error of her ways, in a way that presumably is unpleasant enough in some regard or other to make the submissive not want to repeat her mistake. Punishment by . . . sensory deprivation over the course of hours is by definition non-productive -- aside from being deprived of the company of the Other, what is the lesson being imparted? Especially when that Other is unapproachable on the subject?

The lesson that p learned, and it's not surprising . . . was that M's authority was not constructive. And as such, there was nothing to be learned gained from following her/belonging to her.

I've written on this before . . . but it bears re-stating.

An effective punishment is:

1. Close in time to the infraction.

2. Controlled in its application.

3. Proportionate to the offense.

4. Never administered in anger.

5. Limited to the offense, not used to make any other point.

The good Dominant knows S/He is in control; S/He punishes only to correct behaviors S/He wishes to change, not to prove One's Dominance. The difference is subtle, but it is the difference between a real Dominant and a wannabe Dom/me control freak.

Belonging And Not Belonging

"I wanna glide down over Mulholland
I wanna write her name in the sky
Gonna free fall out into nothin’
Gonna leave this world for a while"

From "Free Fallin'" Tom Petty

Sometimes a thing just . . . hits you a certain way. You're not expecting it, and an insight, or a lesson, or just a new way of appreciating something just falls into your lap.

I've heard "Free Fallin" plenty of times. Tonight, driving home form work I heard it again and it was . . . different, somehow. I listened to that last verse, quoted, above, and I felt, much more deeply than ever before, Petty's alienation. And my own.

I've long had the thought . . . that the world is very broadly made up of just two groups of people: Those who belong and those who don't. By that I mean: those who are able to just go along and get along, adn those who don't. The former group never seem particularly unhappy, or stressed; the latter group never seem to be fully happy, totally relaxed, 100% at ease.

When I heard those lyrics tonight, it really crystallized it for Me. It was one of those rare and wonderful times when a song in a moment transports one to some other place, a place of immediately heightened understanding. An understanding that can only be described as bodily.

And from "Free Fallin" I went right to "You Don't Know How It Feels":

"But let me get to the point, let's roll another joint

And turn the radio loud, I'm too alone to be proud
You don't know how it feels
You don't know how it feels to be me"

One powerful thing about the belong/don't belong division is how obviously and strongly it cuts across all of the other divisions in life. Sex, race, religion, economic standing, gay or straight, kinky or vanilla . . . no accident of birth or life circumstance insulates us from belonging or not belonging.

Another powerful thing about this divide is how easy it is to recognize in people. We can meet someone for the first time, and within minutes, if we are looking for it -- and sometimes when we're not -- we know which side of the divide they fall on.

And, as far as I can tell, it's more or less impossible to "switch sides" in this divide.

That this divide is so universal, so easily recognized, and very hard to cross leads Me to logically conclude (or at least expect) that it must have some utility.

But . . . what utility, exactly? And what does any of this have to do with any aspect of D/s?

Well, for Me at least, knowing about it, thinking about it, swimming in it . . . revelatory musical discoveries about it -- don't help. To "not belong" feels just as bad when it feels bad . . . and retains its sour goodness when it feels good.

I wonder if D/s couples from opposite sides of the divide are a good match? For that matter, perhaps people from opposite sides of the divide make good (or no good) vanilla couples?

The way it feels to Me -- I couldn't imagine being intimately involved with someone who was happy-go-lucky, totally at ease with life. What would we talk about? But for others, that difference, extreme as it is, could be just the thing . . . I can see two people complementing each other like that.

For right now I don't have any overwhelming insight. For today, to have been reminded so powerfully, so totally, of who I am and where I stand on the side of this massive existential divide, was enough.

submissive vs. Dominant Blogs, Part 3

I concluded Part 2 of this (all RIGHT, yes, it was almost 7 months ago!) by stating My contention that "submission is inherently more interesting to write about" (than Dominance).

Certainly I've some time to think about that contention.

I still believe it to be true, but I do see the influence of personal experience and style.

I believe submission is more interesting to write about (and thus to read about, and thus, to experience) than Dominance because of the delicately balanced places that certainty and uncertainty occupy in the life and mind of a submissive.

Consider . . . the person in the submissive role ideally has a healthy measure of certainty and uncertainty in his or her life. s/he needs to feel confident in the love and care and concern that the Dominant will feel and exhibit. Without that, there is simply animal fear, and animal fear never taught anyone anything except how to behave like an animal. The submissive must be able to see, understand, and trust in his or her Owner. The degree to which s/he is able to feel that (that is, the degree to which the Dominant inspires it in him or her) is proportional to the depth of submission one can eventually feel.

But at the same time, the submissive needs to feel that excitement, that thrill of not knowing what is going to happen next. That is absolutely essential, and is probably the single most exciting thing about submission on a day to day basis. What will S/He think of next? Sometimes the thought, the imagining itself, wrapped as it is in the delicious state of not-knowingness, in and of itself enough to make submission deeper. Not to mention more fulfilling and more fun.

That heady mix, that living, breathing, daily paradox, the clashing balance of the known and the unknown, to Me, is the stuff of great novels, of lyrical epics.

This other thing . . . being the One to dream the stuff up? Being the one in charge? It's wonderfully fulfilling, as for writing, it's easy grist for the essay mill, but not Shakespearean the way submission is.

March?

I looked with horror at the date.

I thought the last time I posted was . . . like, June, maybe?

March???

That's bad. (Not that June would've been great.)

I am still here, still doing what I do, mostly. I hope to be writing more here, soon.

submissive vs. Dominant Blogs, Part 2

If I'm right, and there are a lot more blogs by submissives than by Dominants, and more than the generally accepted proportion of submissives to Dominants out there, the question is simply "why should that be so?"

I don't find any of the possibilities I suggested in part 1 very compelling, nor do I find any of the commenter's arguments highly persuasive. With the semi-exception that I do agree with the idea that women are more likely to write about their emotions and experiences than men are, and in my experience there are a lot more submissive women than submissive men (at least those admitting to it).

So then, why more blogs by subs than by Dom/mes?

I think it's pretty simple: submission is inherently more interesting to write about.

Why do I say that?

That's Part 3.

submissive vs. Dominant Blogs, Part 1

I was surfing the link list, looking for some inspiration, and clicking on links to links of links, and all of a sudden I came to the following realization, unspectacular though it may be:

There seem to be a lot more blogs by submissives than there are blogs by Dominants.

Part of this is that there are simply more submissives than Dominants. I have read, one place, that the number is something like seven subs for every 3 Dom/mes.

One might thus expect a baseline of 70% of D/s blogs to be by submissives, assuming that the blogging subset (!) exists in the same percentage as the D/s population at large. (And the much bigger assumption that the 7/3 ratio is accurate.)

By My anecdotal reckoning it's a lot closer to 90%.

Why should that be? Several possibilities:

1. submission is easier to write about than Dominance.

2. submission is more interesting to read about than Dominance.

3. submissives are naturally more introspective and analytical than Dom/mes.

4. submissives read more blogs, thus comment on more blogs, thus their blogs are better publicized and linked to.

5. A submissive can be ordered to do a blog, thus making submissive blogs more likely.

And any number of other possibilities.

I'm not sure I really put much faith in any of those I listed above.

If not those reasons, though . . . why?

That's Part 2.

Gratuitous Picture Post

   It's the blogging equivalent of a PTA bath.  You don't want to go another day without posting something.  But you stare at the mocking white new post screen for ten minutes and . . . nothing.  And you havn't got all night.

   In desperation you figure you'll toss a picture up there.   Just this once.   You'll be more inspired to do a real post next time.  

   Honest.

   The voice seems to come from a little red devil on your shoulder.

   "Go ahead . . . . it's going to feel good.  Do it.  You're having a rough week . . . you deserve a post off."

   Yeah.  You know . . . I do . . . I really do . . .

 

Phelps and A-Rod: Minority Report

  This past week, two sports stories transcended sports and found their way into the mainstream media.

   1.  Olympic swimming god Michael Phelps was photographed with a bong.

   2.  Sports Illustrated reported that Alex Rodriguez tested positive for steroids in 2003.

  Phelps issued the expected corporate apology . . . I'm sorry I let down all the widows, orphans and baby koalas for whom I had been a role model, I promise never to do it again, I'll gladly narc on the person or persons the weed was obtained from, just ask me, and any fan who would like his or her car detailed please e-mail me and I'll send you a gift certificate to Jiffy Wash.

   It was a nice piece of PR hackwork -- for better or worse publicists have had a lot of practice issuing these endorsement-saving (they hope) apologies on behalf of athletes.  But most of them involve something more serious than being photographed with a bong.

   And that's the essence of Minority Report, Part 1.  Once, just once, could one of these guys just admit they smoke weed and skip the mea culpa, which, let's face it, no one believes anyway?  Phelps will smoke weed again -- he'll just be more careful about the circumstances and the company next time.

   I understand it's against the law . . . but consider -- of alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana -- which has the highest social cost?  Marijuana is a distant third.  The "gateway drug" argument is easily debunked (or universally applicable, equally as devastating to the argument).  

  Anti-drug ads urge our children to "live above the influence."  I wonder, will an athlete ever live above the influence of sponsorship dollars?  I am guessing not.  Some addictions are way too strong to break.

* * * * *

   A-Rod tested positive for steroids in 2003.  This is a big deal because, a) it's A-Rod, b) he's on the Yankees, c) he's an easy target because he cares too damn much what people think, and d) he has denied using steroids (smartly, however, not in front of Congress, as Dumbest Living Human Rafael Palmiero did).

  Back in 2003 baseball did mass tests, for the sole purpose of determining if steroid use was widespread enough to warrant an actual "policy" and/or further steps.  5-7% of the players tested, tested positive.  The results were never meant to be published, in terms of who had tested positive and who hadn't.  In fact, a court order sealed the 2003 results.

  Well, someone leaked the A-Rod information to a reporter and the story breaks.  

  I assume the story is accurate.  Sports Illustrated is not looking to invite a massive lawsuit for reporting something so damaging and then having it turn out to be false.  A Rod has not denied it to this point.

  My problem comes in here.  Whoever leaked the information to the reporter knowingly broke the law.  The reporter accepted and relayed information she knew to have been illegally obtained.  

  

   Why doesn't that matter?  I understand it has no bearing on A Rod's guilt, innocence, or legacy.  But it's a small example of how the press, in its boundless arrogance, has lost touch with the common good, and with the people they so condescendingly claim to ultimately act on behalf of, when in fact they pursue career objectives with the same single-minded zeal as the most aggressive drug company sales rep.

   So, by all means, everyone who wants to trash A-Rod, have a ball.  But let's not pretend that it was "journalism" that caused the story to ever become a story.

[My thanks to iris, who contributed to this post.]

It's Not Personal, Sonny

  There's a great scene in The Godfather where the Corleone family contemplates an uncertain future.  Don Vito lies in a hospital bed, clinging to life after an assassination attempt by other forces in organized crime who see Don Corleone as standing in the way of their entry into the massively lucrative heroin business.

  At one point, a young Michael Corleone suggests to Tom Hagen, the consigliere, and to his older brother Sonny, running the family in the Don's absence, that their problems will be solved if they assassinate a certain New York City police captain and the mobster who's facilitating the Mafia's entry into the drug trade.

 Michael suggests that they agree to a meeting -- a meeting at which Michael will kill the police captain and the heroin distributor.  The following exchange then ensues:

Sonny: What are you gonna do? Nice college boy, didn't want to get mixed up in the family business. Now you want to gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped you in the face a little? What do you think this like the Army where you can shoot 'em from a mile away? No you gotta get up like this and, badda-bing, you blow their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit. C'mere. [Kisses Michael on the head] 
Sonny: You're taking this very personal. Tom, this is business and this man is taking it very, very personal. 
Michael Corleone: Where does it say that you can't kill a cop? 
Tom Hagen: Come on, Mikey... 
Michael Corleone: Tom, wait a minute. I'm talking about a cop that's mixed up in drugs. I'm talking about a - a - a dishonest cop - a crooked cop who got mixed up in the rackets and got what was coming to him. That's a terrific story. And we have newspaper people on the payroll, don't we, Tom? 
[Tom nods] 
Michael Corleone: And they might like a story like that. 
Tom Hagen: They might, they just might. 
Michael Corleone: [to Sonny] It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business. 

The scene is both funny and chilling.  Chilling because of the way Pacino somehow manages to convey the well-hidden steel beneath the surface, the subtle but absolute willingness to do absolutely anything, perfectly ordered and compartmentalized, even to the extent of murder.

I of course see a lesson in there . . . an important insight into the nature of Dominance.

When I look back at the mistakes I've made as a Domme, I can trace almost every one to a failure to separate "business" from personal.  

What exactly does that mean, though?  Especially since I Myself have written several times that I can't truly dominate without love being present, that the emotional aspect is so important?  

To distinguish personal from business means to separate what jeopardizes One's goals and what does not, when evaluating a situation.  It means to take into account everything that led up to the current moment, and to consider, then act, accordingly, with the wisdom and judgement the submissive has earned by committing him or herself to One.

If there is a situation, a mistake in judgement, some faux pas or other, the Dom/me needs to use the most important advantage the unequal power relationship affords Him or Her:  The power to take a brief pause, to allow that consideration and analysis to happen, before speaking or acting.  The Dom/me who punishes, physically or verbally, without taking that pause is making a mistake.

The distinction might seem picky, or strained.  These are interpersonal relationships, after all, not commercial enterprises.  But to Me, there is a mission, an objective, a desired future state to be attained.  And the pursuit of that desired future state, while it happens in an emotional arena,  is not in and of itself emotional.  And as such, when the One with the greater power lets His or Her emotions take precedence over the objective, then in a very real sense those being led are temporaril without a Leader.  And that's nowhere for one being led to be, even for a moment.

One does need to be able to express One's anger sometimes, of course.  But the wise Dom/me bears in mind that punishment should always be business, never personal . . . and that One needs, always, to find another outlet, another venue, to release that negative emotion.

Reputation And Substance, Part 2

"You don't like my music 
You don't have to use it 
Funkin is a thing that all of us release 
You don't have to get it 
All you do is let it 
Then you'll know exactly how to groove"

from "Get The Funk Outta My Face," The Brothers Johnson

There's another side to last night's post.

Just as it's easy to lose the message, to lose sight of the important things and lapse into a kind of drearily ritualized half-listening, half-being . . . it's possible also that we're too quick to think, to sincerely believe, even, that we have lost sight of the important things and sadly, to then act accordingly.

And even more amazing, to Me, is the insidiousness of this (sometimes) false idea.  It's so subtle, so stealthy, so . . . nearly invisible, that this post didn't even occur to Me until this afternoon.

Consider.  I think about these things, these kinds of ideas, all the time.  And, I like to think I've got a brain or two.  I consider every word I publish on this blog, multiple times.  After posting last night's entry, I thought I'd nailed it.  I was sad, because the conclusion of that post, which seemed inescapable at the time, felt sad to Me.  But I felt that "Reputation And Substance" was all I needed to say on the subject.

In the words of a great philosopher, "Go figure."

It is just as likely that we only think we've lost our way as it is that we might actually have lost our way.  Even if it's really difficult to be able to tell when we're really lost and when we only think we're lost . . . that's cause for massive relief and celebration.  And thus the Brothers Johnson snippet that introduced this post.

"You don't have to get it . . . all you do is let it . . . "

Reputation And Substance

Everyone not living under a rock knows that Bruce Springsteen was the halftime entertainment at the Super Bowl last night.

Bruce is a source of some (good-natured) back and forth between iris and Myself.  iris is a huge Bruce fan;  I, on the other hand, feel that Bruce jumped the shark a long time ago.  I don't know if it's ever-unchanging wardrobe, the vapid forays into political commentary, or just that his music isn't nearly as good or powerful as it once was, but Bruce does little for Me these days.

So, last night, predictably, iris and I had diverging views about the halftime show.  [Disclaimer:  I missed almost all of the first song.]  iris loved it;  I thought the song selection was regrettable at best [the ultra-lame "Glory Days" as the closer?], and Bruce's performance at times veered between haphazard [a very raggedly "Born To Run" was close to disgraceful] and hokey [adjusting lyrics for the city/event and the tried and true audience vocal segment].

But it got Me to thinking.  Often, when we are listening to an artist that we've come to love, we not only forgive a lot, but we reach a point where if we're not careful, we find ourselves simply listening to the artist's reputation, and responding to that, instead of to the emotional intent of the music.  

It's something I wonder and worry about in D/s terms.  It's been a long time the girls have been with Me.  I say the same things, in different ways, granted, but I say them . . . a lot.  Does it get old?  Or have I made it old, worse yet?  What part of indifference belongs to the teacher and what to the student?  Have I lost the emotional underpinnings of all this?

Or am I completely off base here?  Maybe My worries are totally unfounded.  

"Glory days . . . "