"Strange fascinations fascinate me," as David Bowie once sang. Fairly ordinary in life, my imagination leads me to speculate on the what ifs, the possibilities allowed to lay fallow in our current domain of existence. I like to push the edges, to see what lays behind the social proprieties we guard with our outrage. Their is humanity in us all, a bright light of being that shines even from within the garbage we often spew. An artist friend once told an interviewer that he finds value in taking refuse, things others have cast away, and making from them useful and beautiful objects. I have the same desire to work my way through garbage thoughts and imagery, to find the hidden grace buried within and reveal it. We are all more and less than what we believe ourselves to be. I seek the more in the depths of the less, the power of redemption in the dregs of mass consumerism.
Sexuality is that aspect of humanity that spans the widest range between beauty and depravity and is therefore the richest single subject for literary exploration of the type that most interests me. There is no end to the variety of writings and other mediated depictions of sex, no limits placed on either category or subject matter. Certainly there is much ugliness in these depictions as humans have an unbounded capacity for circumventing that which attracts but the use of ugliness in writing can often have other purpose than its mere indulgence. Vladimir Nabokov, a writer whose talent I don't even pretend to grasp much less aspire to, wrote a novel using the motif of to satirize fellow authors' aggrandizement of the literary form. Lolita is told from the point of view of an unreliable narrator, a person of questionable morality, who tells a tale of "love" between a man and a 12-year-old girl in beautiful language that belies the seamy quality of what is being described. Does the art justify the subject matter, Nabokov asks? Can a well-educated predator, because of his skill in communication, be assessed on a different scale than the predator without such gifts? The wicked humor of the story is meant to skewer the pretensions of the literati but the means used to poke fun at them was so scandalous in its day, and one expects more attractive than many would admit, that the book became known more as story about than as one that uses the subject in service to another end.
Without imagination, human sexuality would be limited to two animals rutting in a field and our stories of passion and romance would be non-existent. Because we imagine we can conceive of and engage in a near infinite variety of sexual activities bounded only by our physical, financial and technological resources. In reflection of this fact, my stories are also varied in style and intent. Some are meant simply to entertain, some to provoke thought and reflection. Some are gentle and romantic, others are outrageously over-the-top. Most include graphic descriptions of sexual activity that may either be serious or humorous in tone. Several subjects crop up again and again: gender relations, May-December relationships, college-age sex, the varied sex industry, the weak man and strong woman, and the submissive female/authoritative male role play. In some way they are all about power relations in sex and the capacity for healing that comes with self-discovery. Other subjects will emerge over time as I allow my subconscious to have its way. Erotica is a medium that allows a writer to indulge in one's hidden and no-so-hidden psychological motivations and, thus, the freedom to be the total self that one can be. In this freedom one can open up to all the beauty and ugliness that exists within, and re-fashion it into something worth saving.
Interests Sexual play, erotica, intelligent conversation, the stars, dreams, power relations, science fiction, books, all forms of media, Asian cultures, travel, hiking, art and theater, exploring new places and new people, flirting, massage, history, philosophy, psychology
Favorite Books The Name of the Rose, by Umberto Eco The Painted Bird, by Jerzy Kosinski Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson Ubik, by Philip K. Dick
Favorite Authors Umberto Eco Neal Stephenson Robert Lewis Stevenson Edgar Rice Burroughs Robert B. Parker Harlan Ellison
Favorite Movies Midnight Cowboy Exotica Welcome to the Dollhouse Alien Blade Runner The Bicycle Thief
Favorite Music David Bowie First Aid Kit The Flaming Lips Lords of Acid Heather Nova
To keep her job as an exotic dancer she does what the inspector wants.
The door to the club opens and Mr. Glass walks in, tall, good-looking; trench coat damp from rain. Amber's running her third set on the main stage behind me while Kat works the side stage. The music is loud, heavy with beat. I watch him stroll across the...
