Tag: fff

Source unknown – Title Unknown (20XX)

There’s no stretch of imagination wherein this could conceivably be considered a ‘good’ image.

Still, it gets me extremely hot and bothered (given that a scenario like this is one of my top five unfulfilled fantasies).

Yes, like so many fantasies/paraphilias there’s the pure carnality of the proposition. In this case there’s something more subconscious–a sort of instinctual resonance.

I’ve vowed to try to explain it but it’s probably going to be messy–so I apologize in advance.

…

Two weeks ago, Andy Wachowski came out as Lilly. Together with her older sister, Lana–who is also transgender–The Wachowski Brothers, filmmakers responsible for Bound, The Matrix and my personal favorite Sense8–are now the Wachowski Sisters.

Apparently, Lilly wasn’t exactly ready to be publicly outed but a British tabloid had begun nosing around–so it was only a matter of time and Lilly decided to release a statement to a local Chicago news outlet.

It’s extremely well-written–clear, measured, thoughtful and profoundly sensitive. I can’t recommend it enough, really.

One of the things that stuck with me is the following quote attributed to Jose Muñoz:

Queerness is essentially about the rejection of a here and now and an insistence on potentiality for another world.

In truth, I’ve thought of myself as queer for longer than I’ve known their was a word that described my precarious relationship to other beings in this world. I’m lucky in that I’ve had some amazing queer folks with whom my narrative arc has intersected.

All of those folks have been far more comfortable identifying me as queer than I’ve felt with using the word to self-identify. Lately, however, that’s begun to shift.

…

I’m not a competitive person. The closest I get is pissed off and irritable when mediocrity gets elevated to ‘greatness’ by the tasteless masses. (See: Humans of New York.)

I’ve never understood the heterotypical mating game. I don’t want to win you because I don’t want to own anyone else. I want someone who chooses to be with me and who I choose to be with in return. I’ve always thought that it has to be one person. Increasingly, I know it doesn’t.

Between Complex PTSD and/or autism spectrum tendencies, I’m decidedly neuroatypical. I have friends who tell me about their perfectly compartmentalized lives–friends divided into spheres of influence: work, school, extra-curricular interests; and then potential lovers–which are sometimes not even one in the same with those who are sought for romantic entanglements.

Hearing them talk about it exhausts me. (I can’t even begin to fathom how someone would enjoy living that way.)

Given that with the most rose colored prognosis I’m socially awkward (and borderline anti-social is probably more accurate), those few people that I care a great deal about while I don’t think our entanglement has to necessarily be sexual, I don’t understand the imaginary boundary that renders sexuality off limits.

I guess I just see it like this: sometimes a carefully considered kind word is enough to comfort someone, sometimes it takes a hug or holding hands through a shoulder wracking sobbing fit. And it seems there are times when someone is lost and that giving them pleasure, just seems to be the only thing that might possibly help sooth the hurt. But not just as a means of fighting against the darkness of sad times, as a way to share joy, express trust, etc.

I believe in the possibility of another world. For the last six and a half years, it’s felt like it’s only me that feels this way.

Ivan Alifan – The three graces (2016)

This does several things very well.

Although much of oil painting art historically centers on mythology (Greek and Roman or Xtian), most renowned oil painters were decidedly secular humanist in nature.

The tropes of mythology and religion were widely legible, there was built in interest (due to the universality of public familiarity) and generally if someone had money to hire an up and coming painter, depending upon their particular bent–mythology or religion could be counted on as a source of inspiration.

There was also certain visual coding associated with either. Whether it was the saints or a bible story or an incident from the Illiad, there were interesting technical considerations about staging, technique, etc.

But there was also the way many artist filtered the making of their work through their sexuality. I’m thinking here mainly of Leonardo and Michelangelo, but I’m pretty sure you can follow the trajectory of painting while illuminating this tendency.

What I find clever about this is the way that it–instead of making the myth/religion its pretext, it places its interest in the sexual front and center.

However, in doing this, it’s accomplishing a clever sleight of hand. Because if you know, The Graces were Aglaea (Beauty), Euthymia (Grace) & Thalia (Good Cheer/Festivity).

The first bit about this is to note that all three were Zeus’ daughters and therefore this isn’t just a lesbian menage a trois–it’s incestuous to boot–something you aren’t going to know unless you understand the mythological context.

It’s interesting to play attribute the correct name to the correct figure. My best guess is right-to-left: Aglaea (beauty is inherently untouchable), Euthymia is straddling Aglaea having her clitoris sucked on by Thalia–grace being a singular experience and good cheer requiring both being merry and making merry.

But what I think I like the most is that this is staged to titillate the voyeuristic viewer, but the angle is such as to thwart any sort of expectation that this scene was staged specifically for the so-called male gaze.

Source: ivanalifan

Source Unknown

I would never claim this is a great (or even good) image: the off-kilter composition and offset flash suggest equal parts luck and artsy pretension.

And from a standpoint of image politics, it’s problematic for all the usual reasons: frame edges ‘cutting up’ and ‘immobilizing’ the three young women along with implicit kowtowing to the porn manicured male gaze that expects a smooth, depilated pubis.

I am not willing to give this a pass. However, I do appreciate the focus on a FFF threesome–something I wouldn’t mind seeing more often. Especially, if like this image, unfeigned desire (closed eyes, flushed faces and chests) and intimacy (holding hands, reaching caresses, giving and receiving of pleasure) feature in the proceedings.

Source: sexhappy

I am not just an analog purist when it comes to photography: take your Nook/Kindle/iPad and shove it up your ass sideways.

Give my hand the solid heft of a book, smooth texture of cover and spine against my skin as it spreads open, beckons my gaze, waits for fumbling fingers and claims my mind so completely for a time.

And the smell…

So, in summary:   

1. Books are hell of sexy as fuck.
2.This had me from lesbian foreplay in a bookstore.

Being a book loving nerd makes me no stranger to bookstores. But I have an affinity for them I don’t know how to explain except to admit that books very nearly jump off the shelves and latch onto me. (Also, I want to visit the Ryōan-ji Temple one day and when I imagine what it will be like it always feels the calm, timelessness that I almost always fee in bookstores.)

But there’s also Fowles’ The Magus and Franzen’s The Corrections framing the head of the young woman whose undergarments are being removed—both of which I have read and enjoyed to varying degrees. (Leave the Franzen. Take the Fowler.)

These tiny points of familiarity engage me with the tableau.

Right off, I notice the woman being undressed is not entirely comfortable with transgression of personal boundaries but remains nonetheless consenting.

This resonates deeply with me. See: I am borderline autistic and as a result have zero ability to negotiate expectations others have for/of me. As best as I can tell this is a result of my inability to understand inconsistencies in the personal boundaries of others.

A tact I have learned for managing this is to assume everyone I meet has the most highly restrictive personal boundaries I can imagine until I discover some evidence to the contrary.

This has the benefit of preventing many otherwise unnecessary misunderstandings with strangers and acquaintances. But it causes problems as I only know where I stand with them when they tell me. And in relationships such a prerequisite is not exactly desirable.

The only thing that works is the rare person who enjoys pushing personal boundaries and is completely unprepared for someone who almost completely lacks them.

All that is to say: I would give anything to trade places with the woman and have my friends who I trusted completely begin to undress me daring me to stop them. Knowing they would if I asked and knowing that I would not.