|
Where's that bitch been?!?! And what the FUCK is she up to?!?!?
|
Sep 17, 2009 2:25 pm
1659 Views
|
Been for-freakin-ever since I've posted 
Of course, the main event is outside of my 9-5 corral, and goodies are on my main blog mollena dot you-know-what.
SO!
Um...getting ready to start rehearsals for the fall show that my theater company's producing. The show is VERY challenging, I'm one of the leads, and I have my very first onstage-make-out scene.
Yep. in 35 years as a professional actor, I've never done it.
Go freaking figure. The world is capricious in its whims.
The Folsom Street Fair is coming up...I'll be presenting at the Folsom Fringe event, so if you're in town for that please drop me a note so I can find you there
ON THE YAAAAAAAAAY! Tip!!
I was approached a while back by Rachel Kramer Bussel who edits all manner of adult themed anthologies to write an essay, on spec, to be considered for possible submission to the "Best Sex Writing 2010" anthology.
And guess what! I made it.
SO I'll be in it to win it! The book comes out in November, so that is soon and I am pretty stoked.
On the heels of that....!
If you are familiar wit Greenery Press, you might be aware of their "ToyBag Guide" series, which are mini-handbooks that cover specific topics in BDSM play.
I'd been noodling around with the idea of approaching Janet (Hardy) to see if I might be able to get in on writing one, and voila!
Coming to a bookstore or browser near you will soon be the newest installation of "The Toybag Guide" Playing With Taboo.
Written by yours truly!
I am very, very proud and really really thrilled to have these opportunities. Pretty amazing.
Let's see...what else....
Oh! I'm an Aunt. The middle kid of the family broke down and cranked out a Grand-Daughter for our Mom. Which is lovely, because it was looking pretty bleak on that front as far as I was concerned. I have officially reclaimed my childhood nickname so that I shall heretofore be known as Aunt Moldy" because that's awesome and no other kid living today has an Aunt Moldy, for certain.
Ah and if you happen to be a Midwesterney type, go ahead and google the Madtown Kinkfest, a Leather event happening in Madison, WI in February (I know, I know, I don't want to talk about it. They asked so nicely.) at which I'll be presenting.
I seem to have recovered from this summer's horrible string of health misfortunes....I go back in for a follow-up soon to see if the ovaries have calmed the fuck down (bad ovarian cyst action couple months back. Fail. I don't recommend it.) and my mammogram came back free and clear, so the girls seem to be just fine! Three cheers for Betty and Wilma 
I suppose that is enough for now... thanks for reading, folks!
xoxo
~Mo
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
|
Premium Members and the Renewal Page.
|
Sep 10, 2009 2:29 pm
1555 Views
|
Howdy!
This is a blog post in an official capacity. I will try to post a personal blog soon for those who don't read my outside blog and might be mildly curious abut things....
But. Onto work.
Yes there was a big-ass outage today. While all of the servers catch up, there will probably be some lag. And weirdness.
Regarding the Renewal page: yep, it is a way to increase
revenue.
I'm aware that lots of people don't dig it.
I've asked around, and learned there IS a way to have it deactivated.
If you are not pleased with seeing the renewal page every time you log-in, contact Customer service and advise the Representative
that you wish for them to deactivate the upsell-page that appears
after login, so as to be hidden from your sight!
Voila.
Thanks, and please spread the word.
Peace
Mollena
|
|
|
10
Comments
|
|
|
The lows make the highs all the sweeter.
|
Jul 30, 2009 10:18 am
1375 Views
|
Dark moods are not unknown to me. Though I have many fewer now than I did even a year ago, and by orders of magnitude fewer today than I did when I a still actively drinking myself to death. the (up?down?)side to this is that today, I am committed to turning my heart to face these moods and riding them instead of suffocating them in the sickly miasma of a sloppy drunk.
I had no reason, on the surface, to be as wracked with emotional pain as I was on Saturday night. I mean, here I was, at a kink event, among friends, having taught the most highly attended class at the event even though Id flown in to Madison, WI last-minute. Literally. Hit the tarmac and within 2 hours was in front of a room full of people talking about BDSM, sharing my thoughts, listening to theirs, gloriously supported by my wonderful friends. Id even been asked by two kick-ass kids who run the Young & Kinky Podcast to do an interview. Benny and Jinx are so awesome, and it was so delightful to meet and get to know them a little. Plus it was saving me from having to be around so many people
And yet later I sat in a dark parking lot, ass prickled by bushes, sobbing my sinuses shut and pouring out my jangled thoughts on Twitter / Facebook.
How does this happen? There were lots of reasons. Many of which have to do with my own self-esteem and the wicked brilliance of my inner saboteur. Every time
EVERY time
I forget how powerful my Nasty Voice can be, she snaps from some hidden murky corner. Bubbles (yeah if you dont know about her read this here) had plenty to say to me as I sat on the sidelines watching other people play. And I have to listen. Cant escape, mustnt muzzle. Muzzling painful voices isnt effective. They remember, and the have the patience of death. And I have no choice.
Oh yes. they all love you, and theyll come up and tell you that
all of these people..and sure, your class was great blah blah blah but is it you they like or just that you amuse them? If you were so great and all that shit wouldnt you have someone with you? or wouldnt you be returning home to that amazing dominant you love so passionately? Oh yeah
you dont have that. Sorry. Too bad, huh? Look over there
your friends are playing, having fun. And over here, that kneeling slave so devotedly gazing into his mistresses eyes adoringly as she strokes his head
when was the last time anyone loved you like that
someone you loved more fiercely than breath?
That hurt. Hurt badly. Suddenly the play-space was claustrophobic, the lights too distracting the sounds too loud the smell of fuel from the fire-play and the leather from the floggers nauseating and i had to leave.
And I sat, with these feelings, and tried to be as compassionate as I could with myself. Not blaming. Not furthering the pain with more blame.
Not too long afterward my friend Dana found me and patiently explained why I was not a loser. I kind of believed her. I believed her enough to grab the lifeline. And I started to feel better. bloody exhausted. but better. Part of me wanted to kick and yell and cry and run and hide, but in general I was remembering what it feels like to be around people I dont feel compelled to entertain, or be pleasing and can really just be. It is true that there may be more people than I know for whom this will be true, but Im crazy leery about that shit.
And Sunday was, in fact, one of the best days Ive had in a long time. There was a house party
a gathering in the wake f the Madtown Kinkfest in a gorgeous house. Relaxed. just a lot of kinky people enjoying the sun, or the AC or the hot tub. swapping stories, and I felt quite welcome
relaxed. And even when Bubbles trued to bite at me again as i say unable to join in a conversation where everyone
but me
.was relating stories of the weekends play, their scenes, all that, and I felt grabbled by that nasty, nasty maelstrom I let it go, because it was OK. None of those people were me. None of those people had has the pleasure Id had in sharing with my class, none of those people had been given the dark and prickly gift of surviving killing emotion and yet being able to enjoy the sunshine on the morning.
I was OK.
and then we did the kinkiest shit of all: after the Brunch, my friends Gray and Dana and I went
.to the movies.
And then
wait for it
to dinner.
I know! And believe me, I was so stunned at how lovely and normal it all was i could hardly catch my breath. But I didnt wanna seem like a dork and be all OMG SQUEE!! MOVIES AND DINNER!!!
But Ill say it now. IN fact, I just did!
(We saw "MOON which rocked. Go see it. Deft hands and minds crafted that film. Love it.)
Supper was at a grill your own steak house called The Prime Quarter and holy shit that was pretty damned cool too. Buncha people standing around indoor open fire pits grilling steaks? Yes please.
Later in the evening back at Grays apartment Dana turned to me, arms draped over a long bamboo pole, her innocent grin belied by the truly wicked gleam in her eyes as asked me if I would mind her using me for some rope practice while Gray coached her though some harness work.
Please, do NOT throw me into that brier patch.
But thrown I was. Righteously so.
Sunday nights scene (because yes, it did flowerblossom explode and race right into an insane headrush of a scene
) well, it was pretty bloody fantastic. I havent played much with Gray and this was the first opportunity Id had to play with Dana and, to be frank, I dont know what business I have playing with switchy type people ESPECIALLY switchy women because you KNOW they are teh ebilz
.but I got lucky.
I also discovered that Dana has a kick like a wild mule. And she discovered she likes kicking girls. And I discovered that there isnt very much room to move when you are being suffocated in Grays crotch while he holds up your legs so that his girlfriend can brace herself on a suspension frame and wail on your ass.
And it was good. Better than good. it was what I really needed.
Im not away enough from the play to write about it,but I will soon.
It is incredibly rare that I meet people who I love this quickly, but I cant help it. Dana, Gray, I love you and I am so honored that you are my friends.
OK now Im totally all verkempt. Sitting in a coffee shop in Madison, Wisconsin
thinking and feeling and leaning back so I dont cry on my laptop.
But I am. I am so blessed. To be loved, to have friends, to have so many, many people who give a shit about me.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
|
Submit. Fiercely.
|
Jul 22, 2009 12:20 pm
1410 Views
|
As often happens my brain revs up to impossible speeds just as Im going to sleep. I am certain that this is because normal working hours are at odds with the hours in which I work best. I am NOT. Bloody. Diurnal. If the average person has an 8-hour window within which they can best rock the mike, mine is sure as fuck not 9-5. Im at the height of focus at the 6PM-2AM shift. I loved working graveyard, back in the day.
Every day I fight against the way I have been my entire life to squeeze into a system that isnt working and never did. My Mom has stories of literally walking me though morning as a kid, and yet finding me under the blankets with a book and a flashlight in the middle of the night.
Last few nights I have been flipping back and forth between thoughts about a solo show that is hammering on my brain
a story that I have to tell and it is becoming more important.
OK, fair enough.
Then I had a sudden series of thoughts on things I feel I need to say to other kinky folks. OK, sure, great. Now of course the internal committee calls a hasty meeting, roiling raucously and figuring out how best to hammer this idea to the wall so that it makes sense in the stupefying light of day.
It was something about Submitting, being fierce, embracing your Leather Identity
mull mull. An acronym formed around this idea: S.E.L.F. Submissives
submissives what
OK, Embracing Leather Fiercely. Nice. That was easy. Snappy. Sassy. Win.
Now, what does it mean?
I think too fast
far faster than I can type but in ten minutes I had the outline for a class on being submissive, and being fierce in your submission, and how to remain true to your identity, and not softening your fucking boundaries because you dont fit in. It really struck a chord for me. All of the times I am told You dont seem submissive. and You MUST be a top or a dom! rushed back to me like so many gnats and I growled in my head.
Why cant people see that you can be in service in a way that EMBODIES your strength, rather than draping it in fancies and fuckery so that you dont intimidate or even scare away a potential partner?
Fuck. That.
Fuck it right in the ear.
I wanna be the lioness. The predator. The top of the food chain, the Goddess
AND submissive.
Dammit.
One story of a Gods progress that speaks to me is that of Sekhmet. She was Egypts warrior goddess, and badass as fuck. Her job was to serve the God-King Pharaoh, protect him in battle, and all kind of coolness. She also was a healer, and so was capable of fixing up anything she took down. Additionally, Sekhmet had some anger management issues. She was assigned with the awesome task of fucking shit up, all of the time. She liked beer, a lot, so you can see how her mythology appealed to me. Eventually, as she was wading through rivers of blood and feasting on it, to the detriment of the human race, Ra finally was all Shit, shes gonna wipe out every motherfucking thing. So he dyed a shitload of beer red, Hathor thought it was blood and so she pounded it. Evidently this mellowed her out enough that she gave up slaughter, blood drinking and burning the fuck out of everything and was smushed with a gentler deitys persona: Hathor. Who is much more chill, and is all about the healing and the teaching.
I, of course, know nothing about drunken wrath *cough* but I DO know that being a fierce warrior is often NOT the purview of submissive. Yet there is a broad spectrum of service. From the person who wants to be a footstool and totally objectified to the slave who can bring home the bacon
fry it up in a pan
and tackle finances in Quicken with one hand.
There is a great deal more here, but my brain is on the job sorting it out for later regurgitation. I think it is high time I talk about the collared lioness. And how being a submissive sure as fuck can also mean fucking shit up.
|
|
|
4
Comments
|
|
|
Feeling wrong feels right.
|
Jul 20, 2009 11:27 pm
1182 Views
|
A few years back, I saw an insanely rough sex moment in an adult flick.
A man was hitting it doggie style, shagging the hell out of a woman while pulling her arms into a painful stretch behind her. He then abruptly folded her arms together on the small of her back, swung his leg up to the couch, and planted his foot firmly on her head.
Suffice to say I found this deprecating cruelty terribly arousing. Pervert, remember?
Then a few months ago I came across the same thing again, and squealed in delight.
And then I wondered
as I often do, What the hell is wrong with me?
OK, pervs
come on. Is that not
hot??
It could only be better were he fully clothed, wearing boots. There is something hot and humiliating about being nude when your partner is fully dressed.
I simply adore the sensation of being vulnerable and bare in front of someone who is dressed and dominant. If clothes make the man, boots make the man hot as fuck.
I often struggle on the ego-totter with my deep-seated need to be humiliated in some way. On the one hand, my self-esteem is a fawn-footed creature, susceptible to light and noise and the softest of blows. On the other hand, under the withering harshness of brutal treatment, I find a hidden and oft unacknowledged strength that buoys me up and sends me into a chest-wrenching paroxysm of fierce pride when I have weathered scornful abuse.
Many years ago, I had a dominant to whom Id newly submitted after knowing him for years. In the midst of a very brutal scene in which my stubbornness was in the fore, he had me down on the ground with a boot to my cheek. Using his heel as leverage, he rolled my head to one side and ordered me to lick the sole of his boot.
OK. No.
was the clear voice from one side of my head.
You have no choice. Do it.
was the voice, ever more strident, from the other.
I felt more humiliated, repulsed and horrified as I ever had before in a scene. Im not entirely mysophobic
but it is pretty fucking close. So licking the sole of a street boot, no matter how sexy the boot was, squicked me to nausea. But my reflex to be obedient was strong.
And then came the Bad Voice.
You are so desperate for this mans attention youll do anything
anything
to amuse him. You sick, sick worthless bitch
it sighed, claws extending deep into consciousness.
I shook, my eyes full of hot tears that ran down into my ears and pooled beneath my head.
He put the boot on my throat, regarding me coldly from above my naked prone body.
Youd disobey me? What? Do you think you are above licking my boot?
I stared mutely at him, face frozen, staring.
So. You think youre worth more than that?
I nodded. Slowly, then again. I hitched in a shuddering breath and waited for him to berate me further.
Instead, he was suddenly pulling me up and holding me tightly.
Yes. You are. You are invaluable. And beautiful. And I am so proud of you.
I was shocked, to say the least, as that wasnt what I expected.
To this day, I look on that moment as being when I fully understood the value and place that humiliation has for me.
It is a broad-brush full-bore way for me to feel the worst of how I feel about myself, give it away to someone, and have them hold it.
Once someone else holds up for me, mirrors it back, shows me the depth of my own feelings, my self-deprecation, I can see it for what it is.
And then the let it go.
And then, they come back, and love me for who I TRULY am.
And then, sometimes just for a second, but sometimes for much longer
sometimes I DO feel that valuable. That special. That precious.
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
|
I get knocked down, but I get up again. And again. And again...
|
Jul 19, 2009 5:32 pm
1213 Views
|
Sometimes the smack-down from the Universe is intense.
Within a scant 3 weeks of turning 40 I fell and fucked up my knee(bruised bones, mild sprain, bad abrasion) and wrist(bad sprain) and then found myself in the ER nine days later.
Why, you ask?
Angry, angry cysts. Cysts in my ovaries.
I can't tell you how much this fucking hurt. Seriously. I had one that was 3 x 5 cm large.
The female reproductive system is as Byzantine, mysterious and random as the US Tax Codes. More so, even, because at least female reproductive systems actually occasionally work as intended and produce bundles of joy or some shit.
At least this is what I hear from the sleep-deprived zombies I know who masquerade as new parents but are actually automatons in service to the liberated parasitic overlords that are their offspring.
But I digress.
So I had the awesome experience of 10 hour stint in the Kaiser ER, being poked and prodded, having my insides scanned, not once, not twice, but three times a lady, and receiving so much conflicting information that I was glad I was on morphine just so that the confusion I felt was muffled by the opiate haze.
I had 2 follow-up appointments with 2 very different Doctors. The first, Dr. Terrence Jones, was an awful experience in canned responses, withheld information, and condescending dismissal.
If you are a Kaiser member in SF, I cant say enough about how much I did not like this man.
However my follow-up visit with Dr. Laurie Miler was 180º from this. She listened to what I had to say, gave me options, follow-up plans, and took another US so that she was able to ascertain that the Angry Cyst was, in fact, shrinking. Still angrily oozing, but shrinking nonetheless.
The upshot of this is that a whole lot of my life was reorganised. The uncertainty of my situation meant I had little choice but to bow out of the musical Ive been rehearsing for lo these past many months. This feels very much like an artistic miscarriage: all of the tension stress and meltdowny-goodness of musical theater without the only reward you ever get applause and smiles and the appreciation of the audience.
This is an amazing lesson in submitting to that over which you have no control.
The interesting irony is that Id entirely shut down my Kink Career in lieu of this show: the time commitment is all consuming and that is all there is to it.
I won't even get into the fuckup I'd made that resulted in my power being turned off for 2 days, or the week of nausea and Intestinal Fail from all the the painkillers, or the sciatica flare up that came just as I was coming off of the pain meds, or my cell phone breaking, because that would make me eligible for another trip to the ER.....in the Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaambulance!
However. While in bed and hazed on vicodin, codeine, and coming down off of 20 hours on morphine, I decided to contact the people who had invited me to teach, but whose offers I had to decline due to the show.
The Lord (Ganesha, of course!) moves in mysterious ways, and I am really happy to share that I have been offered two spots at two different events on two different coasts!
My East Coast pervs, you aint rid of me yet because my big black ass (soon to be my big sweaty black ass....Jersey*!?? in SUMMERTIME?!) will be at Floating World in August!
Ill be talking about Taboo Play, Playing with Race, and Role-Playing. Lots of fun, funky, fucked-up topics, for sure.
Then over Folsom Weekend and closer to home, Ill be at one of the events nearest and dearest to my heart, the SM Odyssey Folsom Fringe.
Not sure what Ill be on about at that event. Stay tuned!
Will I see you here or there? Will I see you everywhere?
So yeah. Life, huh?
*You know I gots give you shit, Jersey. It IS my birthright as a Manhattanite.
|
|
|
5
Comments
|
|
|
Failure in communication (or: yelling at me does not score you points.)
|
Jul 19, 2009 10:01 am
1020 Views
|
I knew eventually someone would make me regret "going the extra mile."
I always open my email here with little or no joy, because there is not much hope it is gonna be a lovely email from a hot single dominant.
But this morning I received an aggressively worded CAPITAL LETTER PACKED complaint about something objectionable a member saw on this site. An email that, they indicated, they sent to me personally beause they "didn't know" how to send a message to Abuse. (FYI, there is a link in the footer on Every. Page. Of. ALT.)
This isn't even something I can address myself. And not something I can bring to the proper people on a Sunday morning.
And being "yelled at" with bullying lauguage is not, at all, something I welcome regardless of the genesis of the ire.
Fail.
|
|
|
4
Comments
|
|
|
|
|
The Big 4-0
|
Jun 20, 2009 12:11 am
1146 Views
|
At my computer, scanning in a couple of photos to round out a little retrospective of pictures for my kink blog (mollena is the eurl) and I refresh the screen to see my age roll over on site after site.
Here's to being alive sober, and full of gratitude for my 40 years on this body.
|
|
|
17
Comments
|
|
|
|
To link to this blog (Mollena) use [blog Mollena] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
|
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
111
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
Most Recent Comments by Others
|
