Kinky Alone

There have been a couple times in my life when I’ve had the opportunity to be alone for long stretches of time. They’ve been good for me, and right now I am kind of in one of them. Technically I’m living in my van, though in practice I’m mostly staying with friends and occasionally crashing outside of their homes if I feel like I need more space than sharing a house offers. Having that small amount of space which is “my space” is something which consistently triggers an interest in my own body that I have a hard time connecting to when I’m living with others — even super sex positive friends and lovers.

When I’m sharing space with people I hold a subconscious fear of being discovered and judged, found out for what I might be doing. This holds back certain impulses about what I feel like doing, even behind closed doors. I can often be found naked when I’m alone, checking myself out in the mirror, or sometimes taking photographs of my body during masturbation or orgasm to see what I look like — there are a lot of different things I have the impulse to do. I want to know how my body changes in various circumstances, what other people see of me that I don’t get to understand without looking. There’s something vulnerable about taking time to really see my parts, my flaws, my sex, my bags and wrinkles. That vulnerable exploration brings me to a deep quiet within myself which I value.

I struggle to settle in and fully embrace that which being achingly alone offers me: no feedback. During the discovery process I have strong impulses to talk about my findings with anyone who will listen. When I’m quiet for longer stretches of time though, I am afforded more space to process deeply, question my own thoughts and reactions for longer, and emotionally sit still with my discoveries as they settle within me. I’ll feel clearer about what I find and more grounded in it.

Do I need people still? Absolutely, of course! Bouncing ideas off others is an important part of learning more. Support from others is helpful, and someone else’s take on an issue leads me to wider, more diverse, and more complex understandings. Other people’s perspectives are a huge part of connecting new dots and finding nuance to the concepts I’m exploring.

But.

Sitting with myself and sorting through feelings is work which brings me closer to something true. Sitting with myself I have the time and space to peel away reactions and judgments as they come to me, to see them for what they are. I can look at the subject I’m exploring from multiple perspectives and consider where to go next, and emotionally my range grows broader. It’s hard sitting with myself and not looking to the internet or television, books, and any other distraction for relief from my own internal solitude, but I am thankful for my time away from others and I am thankful for support and feedback from my community afterward, when I am ready for it.

The line between Hermit-like self-discovery and group conversation which can lead to new understanding, is a tightrope to walk. I don’t want my interests to fade into the foggy world of irrelevance, but to really understand my own perspective I must find my own grounding first. I’m thankful to be afforded time, space, and aloneness in my life right now. I am also grateful to be part of a number of social circles who welcome my thoughts and engage me in conversation when I’m ready.

Do you have daily rituals or practices that offer you time to yourself? Do you find it is hard to commit that time to yourself without interruption? What have you gained by sticking to it and being alone? I’d love to hear about the discoveries you have come to because you allowed yourself to push deeper in, alone.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Courage

My dashboard garden is back and I’m so happy to watch these beautiful creatures grow!

I feel really great in my body these days. I wish I’d known sooner what hormones could do for me. The experience of enjoying my physical body in the mirror and under my own fingertips rather than feeling trapped in it and persistently worried about how I look IS AMAZING!!! Seriously, I had no idea daily life could be like this. I think T is lifting a lifelong fog of depression and anxiety off of me and I’m very thankful for it.

To everyone who ever point blank told me to my face that “they just see me as a girl”, or “I just seem more femme rather than butch to them”, or that “I just look better when I dress girly”, or that “I’m not a tomboy b/c tomboys don’t wear dresses”, or any other reinforcement of the female femme ideal — which is already constantly crammed down my throat by the rest of the world (and to which I don’t usually choose to interact with face to face): You are a huge reason I didn’t get here earlier. I need you to know that. I need you to know that not because I want to tell you you were wrong, but because I want you to consider the weight of pressuring others to be as you wish them to be. It hurts to be told you can’t be who you feel you are. It is a painful lifestyle to persist holding a line you’re told to hold which feels wrong, and some of us are good enough at holding on, that we really need friends and to have role models who see us for who we are and who give us permission to let that line go.

I sincerely apologize to anyone if my words or actions have ever made them feel small about their identities or wrong about sharing themselves with me. It’s never been an intention of mine. I haven’t always understood as much about how my words affect each person I’m speaking to, and I know I’ll make mistakes in the future too, but I want to know when I do. I want the opportunity to reconsider the meaning of my actions. I want to be better than my mistakes.

I roundly thank everyone who has seen me and believed me and accepted me as I’ve journeyed and evolved and learned to articulate myself over the years. Without you I would still be desperately wanting things I didn’t feel I deserve to get (which is on me, but you all really helped me out a lot).

As I write, acknowledging this feeling of happiness I’ve been feeling since starting T, I want this moment to be a reminder to consider the impact of our very human desire to label others — especially to their faces — with labels we’re comfortable with rather than the labels someone else tells you they want to be labeled as. Almost every single bit of information we take in in this world is gendered, racially loaded, ableist, and constructed to tear our individualities down for the benefit of a privileged class. We can (and must) change that by considering one another not as objects, but as individual creatures with vibrant internal worlds which we will never be privy to the full intricacies of without asking first, without believing the answers we receive, and without caring to wonder more deeply about who we’re interacting with in the first place. When someone tells you who they are (and who they are not), consider believing them immediately before questioning what they’re saying. Consider asking questions about how that works if you aren’t sure you understand. Consider trusting people who gather the courage to tell you something about themselves.

Love from my glowing, growing, vibrant garden inside, and as always —

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

Please support my work at Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

It’s About to Rain

It’s about to rain and I am leaving my house soon. Thunder is cracking. The heat and humidity has been terrible and a storm will pass through to wipe it all away. Reset the air. Reset our attitudes. Reset for the next swell of inflammatory summer. I am beginning my writing too late. I’ve been putting it off, feeling my own stress build — but that’s what happens when you live in a van crossing the country in a driver’s seat instead of staying on top of your email. I’m excited to be caught walking in the wet (abnormal for this cat but true). I’m scratching at the door. Let me out of here!

I want the wet to decompress in. I want the wet to soggy down my thoughts and haze, hanging humid in my brain about what next: City or country? Domlife or stage haunt? Garden and tincture or weld and glassblow? Why not all the aboves? How? Am I keeping up with my daytime disciplines or do I need to be doing more each day to find my foothold, to get ahead? I’m thirsty. I want the wet to cool me, calm me, center my body and mind. I want the wet to be, like, graphically wet. Natural lubrication from the sky over my clothes and body making things slippery smooth, and I’ll have no choice but to feel everything differently because of it. The wet slows me down even as it unglues me. Wet, as it hangs around undry, argues that we are Taking. Our. Time.

Everyone is arguing the vocabulary of identity in this heat, as if a standard could ever exist… The point of identity is intimacy. The words I whisper to you about me. My words, mine. In the big picture yes, they shouldn’t say that in front of those people, because everyone knows better these days, but what does this mean now that we’ve embraced that thing over there, and where do we put all those ideas from yesterday? On and on and on forever because as organisms cursed with the glory of life we must do the most beautiful-terrible thing constantly all the time: grow.

I, for one, am happy that we won the term “Queer” back, and that “they/them” is in vogue these days (I’ve been waiting patiently for that one for a couple of decades now), yet it seems they’re taking “Bi” away in exchange. I’ve been Bi, and even if it’s not what I use now, I don’t like the new fangled words more than that one. I think it’s fine, and unfairly villainized, and everyone knows what it means even though the echo of “two” turns a tad sour in our mouths when we taste for Gender. But that’s not what it really is trying to say. Yes? Still though, off and away she goes. I hope my made-up identity, “Sexual”, catches on one day. I know there’s a question mark containing eyebrow arch from an Ace or Ace ally in the room (written with love).

Words are imperfect.

Our attachments to them are not just by dictionary, but in association. We each associate variably.

I love the word “Cunt” because it feels so fucking good in my mouth… just like a cunt does. And “Dyke”. It’s mine. My identity. You can’t wrestle it away from me.

What are the symbols for Queer now? What pictorial phraseology do we use to wink at Stealth Queers and Passing Trans and Kinksters in a picture of “Friday at the office” before going out to haunt the night dressed in shades of inappropriate and “oh my”? Does it matter anymore? Has it all been commodified and commercialized and spread too thin to recognize? Now that we ask one another for pronouns, and get all the consents, what’s the point of a flag or a tapdance on the men’s bathroom floor? Where are our cheats and naughty, perverted, under the radar confessions flown in public now? How do we signal the quiet queering of our spaces? Or is outing it all without a legally backed oppressor in sight what we’ve been building towards? Will there be no Queer one day? Will we laugh or cry on that humid afternoon? (See, one can get all romantic and sappy about the shitty but hardcore past without being a TERF about it. Fucking wankers.)

And the rain. Slowing. Me. Down.

Even though 1s and 0s seem to make the Earth spin faster on its axis, when we get together after typing lustful confessions and someone lumbering through town to the other one’s sty, we still have to face one another. Cold water. Eye to eye. Breath and breath. Heartbeats, nerves, smiles, knee jerks, clumsy fumblings, mismatched desires, unequal libedo, and under it all a glorious sense of “am I really doing this right now?!”. Yes! The short answer. That perversion is still real. You are doing it.

So breathe. Don’t sweat the small stuff. We haven’t forgotten how to communicate completely, we’ve just been pressured to move too fast.

What do you want to know about me? I want you to ask. We can fight about politics if you scene me roundly into a second date… But for now, slow down. Let’s be wet. Wet and cool and away from the swell of inflammatory summer.

It’s raining now, I’m stepping out.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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