The most elusive knowledge of all is self-knowledge.

~Mirra Komarovsky

…it’s just fantasy!

For me, as I’ve said many times before and will continue to say forever and a day, there is a big difference between fantasy and reality. Know what I mean, jelly bean?

I have a theory which goes something like this:

Most intelligent people have very wicked fantasies that have absolutely nothing to do with who they are in their everyday lives (including their sexual lives). It’s what gets them from here to there when they are masturbating. Some people are very good at forgetting the fantasy once they’ve reached “there,” never even thinking about that dark journey until the next time they are itching for some relief. It is a cycle that continues over and over. (The clinker is that because they are innocent in their minds, they are free to judge others.)

Anyway, that’s kind of the gist of it.

This is on my mind today because a PSO confided in me that a “pedophile” had called her. When she described the conversation, it was clear that this caller could not be labeled, by any stretch of the imagination (or her lack of imagination), as a child molester as his fantasy was about maternal domination. In other words, he was the child in his fantasies. Talk about mixing apples and oranges. Sigh. As Forrest’s mother told him, “Stupid is as stupid does.”

(Which reminds me of the time I described someone to my secretary as a “bigot.” Her eyes got real big and–I kid you not!–she said, “Oh my! How many wives does he have?”)

We can psychoanalyze fantasies from now until doomsday. The bottom line is that fantasies fulfill needs. We don’t need to know the Freudian explanation for each fetish and kink that comes along. The point is that they just aren’t about everyday living.

For example, many women (I am not one of them–so don’t even try it.) fantasize about being raped, but that doesn’t mean they want some greasy punk to pull a knife and abuse and violate them. The fantasy and the reality are two different animals.

Age play (as are most fantasies–in one way or another) is about the power exchange. It is a mind-fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now go to bed and dream of electric sheep.

…in garter belts and stockings.

Having recently lost a cherished sibling and losing my father when I was still in high school, I think one of the best charities (and I dig charity, as many of you know) that you and I can throw our money at is Hospice.

Hospice of Metro Denver makes it fun with the biennial Mask Project, which is a charity art auction for which celebrities (Donald Trump, Anthony Edwards), artists (John Harrel), sport figures (John Elway) and other luminaries (John McCain, Deepack Chopra, Garth Brooks) paint and decorate masks.

You and I get the privilege of bidding on the masks of our choice. How cool is that?

You can bet I am gonna be bidding on quite a few. Wanna take a guess as to which ones catch my fancy? I’m sure I won’t end up with any, but at least I can have a part in driving the price up so somebody else has to dig real deep–all for the benefit of a very worthwhile cause. Ain’t I just tits and champagne??? Of course, we could always just make a donation, couldn’t we? Or go to the party.

Or….

We could purhase the Geisha sterling silver mask tag at the gift shop, because it would look so nice with my tan skirt and red tank top. Come to think of it, you’d look pretty good in the Tin Man tag.

So…

The above masks are a little test for you. And don’t Peek! Tell me who donated those hand-crafted masks. Here are your clues, going from left to right (you can click on them to enlarge):

1. He did a very funny bit about being a blind and black klu klux clan member on his comedy show.
2. If you can’t figure this one out, your as dumb as they say you are.
3. This actress has played Pat Nixon and Jeff Bridge’s choice as Vice President.
4. The director of the Ring Trilogy and King Kong.

Come on, give it a go. You know what they say: No guts, no glory!

SMOOCH

( Michael Ondaatje)

If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.

Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.

Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler’s wife.

I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
— your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers…

When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said

this is how you touch other women
the grasscutter’s wife, the lime burner’s daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume.
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner’s daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in an act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of scar.

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler’s wife. Smell me.

***I printed this poem at my professional site, literate smut, because I just think it is so sexy. So I thought I would share it with my readers here, too. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Veronica Varlow, the uncommonly sexy Vintage Pinup model has opened an online boutique, Danger Dame, specializing in one-of-a-kind wardrobe items which are must-have classics for any self-respecting femme fatale.

The site is so naughty-noir that it isn’t too hard to imagine Bogart stopping by to pick up a few dresses and accessories for Bacall before they take off on their latest caper.

Miss Varlrow is very generous with her visitors, providing plenty of extra pictures from the classy, edgy shoots of ssaid products with New York photographer, Burke Heffner (check him out at Things to Look At ). She also has a hot diary you can check out while you’re there.

Happy Shopping! And remember: You break it, you buy it.