Marilyn Chambers was an American porn star who successfully transitioned to mainstream film. She died several years ago. Perhaps her most famous film was “Behind The Green Door”, a hard core porn film. Penetration of yoni by lingham is shown in hard core porn films. We need the erotic divine feminine. I believe every woman can be an embodiment of the Erotic Divine Feminine. Marilyn Chambers certainly was. Your sexual journey is unique, lifelong, and joyous!
BacheBazi is a form of sex slavery commonly practiced in Afghanistan and Pakistan. It involves gay paedophiles using boys for sex activities. These are often street kids from very poor families. The ones in power are trying to outlaw this. The music these kids dance to is beautiful and tribal. The kids earn enough money to buy food, drugs, and whatever else is needed. I’m praying for an overall societal healing. The women and girls stay at home. The worst places for crime and dangerous people are the public bus terminals. These people are Muslims; I don’t know which sect. Probably some are of the Pashtun tribe. There is much we don’t know about the Middle East.
I added my cat, YaHabibi, and some triangles in there. The boy dancing in the dress is drawn from my memory of a documentary, “Pakistan’s Shame”. I attempted to capture one of the musical instruments played by a live musician. Afghanistan has lived through many wars and invasions. No doubt these have deeply impacted their culture.
YaHabibi is Arabic for “sweetheart”. Arabic writing looks like a bunch of dancing snakes recently ran over by a steamroller!
I foresee palliative care as a growing medical field. Apparently, there’s not yet enough of it.
What is the “end-of-life conversation?” This is Linda’s take on it….. It’s where I have a talk with my Death. Do I wish to die now…. or not?
My end-of-life can occur shortly after I turn 50. Or, I can renew my Most Sacred Contract for another 12 years. Hmmmm….. at 49, I wonder, why am I still alive?
Am I still alive for the positive possibility of “getting laid”? It’s more than that. I think I’m alive to give and receive pleasure as well as service.
Some people recently have told me they hope I die in a vehicular accident. I have prayed for them. I have experienced anger at them. They are very, very messed-up people! I am NOT ready to EVER die of “a vehicular accident.”
I have too much self-respect to stand in front of an oncoming train! I’m concerned it would cause trauma to the driver of said train! Do you realize it takes quite a long while to stop a freight train coming down the tracks at, say, 40 mph? It’s not like driving a car!
I also don’t want to wind up hurt. Standing in front of a TRAIN….. OUCH! Shit. That would effing HURT! I’m too much in love with pleasure to do that. I’m a creature of comfort. I love to rub this expensive lotion on parts of my body that get dry and tan in the sun. Burt’s Bee’s Milk and Honey lotion.
But enough about trains. Back to my end-of-life conversation.
Before I decide whether to die physically, I want to go to Courtesan School. I want to go to Europe for a whole summer. I want to revisit Hawaii. I want to land in Oahu this time. That’s where Honolulu airport and harbor are.
I”m making a Bucket List. Giving up celibacy…. or Having Sexual Fun of the Partnered, Embodied Kind, is NUMERO UNO on my “bucket list”. I want to kiss a woman! I want to go to bed with her! I want to try out more BDSM. I want to be a porn star. I want to try on a couple. OH, what to do? What to do?????
To me, sex and death are connected. I’m scared of my power. I feel like Goddess Kali! I’m learning to WORK with my power, DANCE with my power, MAKE LOVE with my power, and yes, FUCK with my power.
“Don’t forget fucking. Lust hasn’t forgotten YOU.”
This conversation will be continued.
I have loved you ever since the 80s Jefferson Starship days. And now, I love you more than ever. I’ve been lucky enough to see you live.
I am laying my naked body on top of yours. You kiss me from head to toe. There aren’t words to convey my deep ocean of passion to you.
I cradle your face between my thighs. Your voice, it caresses my ear. I touch you with my fingers of longing. I paint you with my kisses.
Your guitar makes love to me. I make love to your guitar with my guitar. You, my darling Craig, are my beloved.
You are once face of the Cosmic Lover, My Cosmic Lover Man of a 1000 Faces ….
I know you were St. Sebastian in a past life. Craig. I’m the one who nursed you back to health.
I drew this on the 1R ACTransit but, going up North on International Blvd, to Berkeley City College. This is from my pink moleskine sketchbook. Moleskine blank books are the BEST. I prefer the unlined kind! They all come with bookmarks, a stretch band to hold it closed, AND yes, a durable paper pocked in the back to hold stuff like, say, lover’s phone numbers or postal stamps or tiny scraps of paper with random sloppy notes jotted down in a big hurry for those rare occasions when you don’t have a SCRAP of paper on you…. yeah, I know! I know! 🙂
My sacred Tantra Temple is one big room, with walls made of carved and polished dark wood, with holes in it. They can be slid around and removed. There are heavy purple velvet curtains to keep out stiff winds and cold air. A large futon lays on the floor, covered in silk sheets and pima cotton blankets plus an assortment of soft, colorful pillows. There’s a treasure chest of sex toys beside that bed. Erotic art is on the walls. The altar has a huge crystal, a Buddha, a painting of Krishna and Radha, and fresh-cut flowers plus a bowl of pure water. And other sacred objects. The food basket contains delicious, fresh sensual foods to fit the lovers’ tastes. And also water and other pleasing drinks. Non-alcoholic! And now, sweet lover, come to me! I know you exist. I can feel you “out there”. I know you are male. VERY male! Man of 1,000 Faces! Let our kisses sear each other’s skin. Let us melt bodies and minds together. Let us knit limbs and energies. I gaze into your lusty, loving eyes! Your Carvin guitar gleams in the corner, holding hands with my black Fender Stratocaster. Our amplifiers exchange lusty, meaningful glances! Your guitar dominates mine with love… and amplifier-to-guitar cords! (Chords!) We melt together in musical bliss!
Oh, my beloved Bono, your phallus winks out at me from those
shiny leather pants on that stage at Live Aid in 1987
Bob Geldof, he birthed another Woodstock of the 80s
You, Bono, have filled my dreams ever since I saw
“The Joshua Tree” film. At first, I thought
you weren’t that handsome, then
I knew the power of your lips
tracing every inch of my skin
your tongue dipping into my cunt
as a hummingbird dips its beak into a big, red tube flower
The wingbeat of your heart on top of my pelvis
my breasts run with your sweat
your kisses they grace my thighs
our ears are full of our honeyed signs
the sheets are soaked with our passion
Oh, Bono, you orgasm my every breath
I breathe your every orgasm… (sigh)