Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

The Tickler obliged me and arrived early so we could hit Le Coin for happy hour. Many of the same fantastic noms for half the price. Even if you're sitting at the bar ("chef's counter") as we were, it's so worth it. The staff has started to recognize me. I keep forgetting how memorable I am as a purple-haired trans woman. Tip of the topper to Funny Lady, who suggested happy hour.

But the real reason they came wasn't eetz. It was the Seattle Erotic Art Festival! It wasn't as crowded and loud this year as last, it seemed. On the one hand, it was nice to be able to (just barely) hear what people said to me. On the other, I hope that isn't a problem for the festival itself, and there were one or two people who I wanted to see there but didn't.

Do you ever see pieces where you love the concept but hate the execution, or vice versa? That happened several times in this SEAF. Curious.

And now I wish I'd bought a copy of the catalog, because I mostly know neither the titles nor the artists of the works I liked most. But if you see them at SEAF, which you can still do today if you're in the area, they were:

• "Three Graces", a bas relief that reminded me of both Greco-Roman and New Deal art.
• A painting of a woman in shibari with a bird's head. Yeah, mild furry flavor there, but it really grabbed me.
• A photo of two nude, zaftig women making out while wedged between two trees. Judging by the trees it was taken somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. It's a beautiful photo, and I could just feel the bark mashing against one woman's back.
• A photo of two men having anal (?) sex, indoors this time, but the bottom looks as if he's been caught mid-guffaw. It was utterly charming and humanizing, and something you hardly ever see in erotica.
• A black-and-white photo of a mixed-sex Black couple from the neck down. The title was "Drip", for obvious reasons. No, I don't usually go for het sexy, there's just something about the way that one was composed and shot. It was pure visual art.

Said hi to many peeps, including Comfy Lady! Drank some of the drinks! Bought some of the art without going completely bananas in the store! (Yes, including one devil girl.) Watched some excellent silent video porn with the Tickler when my feet gave out from the Grand Nationals!

I admit it: I love SEAF, like, a lot. It's why I keep coming back. I've only missed three SEAFs ever out of about twenty, and that was due to ignorance, travel, and COVID, in chronological order.

I've spent the whole day with a temperature below 99°F, says my thermometer. My headaches are gone, and I'm not nearly as light-headed as I was. It's been six hours since my last ibuprofen and I don't feel the need for another.

Hoo. Rah.

Do I know what this bug was? No. Do I care, as long as it's gone? Also no.

It's funny how bored I didn't get when I was neither willing nor able to do anything. I've been in bed about twenty hours a day for most of the last week. But now that some of my executive function is back I've been doing things like delivering my East Neighbors' mail and washing my sheets.

I haven't worked for the last three days, and I hope I'm up to it tomorrow because it's piling up, of course. I'm also hoping I'm capable of socializing this weekend, because I was robbed of New Year's.

I've been eating freeze-dried meals for dinner for the last three nights. Hey, I think this counts as an emergency.

You do not want to know about my personal hygiene or lack thereof these last few days.

I got a jury duty summons on Tuesday. How nice that they have my current address! It's for Feb 5th. Mental note: get a hardcopy book to read, because they don't allow phone use in the jury waiting room.

Oh: See you all on Saturday April 27th at SEAF.

It's good to be back in the land of the living.

I went to the opening night of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival last night. It was a subdued affair; they were only running at 60% capacity due to COVID, and there seemed to be fewer art pieces than usual. But it was nice having space to walk, and the eye candy on the other attendees, which is a large part of why I go, was as wonderful as ever. Fave art pieces:

• GarthVG, "VG0111285" – A photo of a nude woman reclining on a bench in wooded parkland. Her head and shoulders are obscured by the red umbrella she's holding, and there's red smoke coming out from underneath the umbrella. For those who don't know, a red umbrella is also the symbol of the sex workers' rights movement. I can't help but wonder if there's a connection.
• Joseph Gilbert, "A GOOD, HARD CHOKE" – A cartoon of a woman in a garage grumpily trying to repair a gasoline-powered vibrator. It was hilarious, not least because of the copious details.
• Matthew-Mary Caruchet, "Mahogany in Purple" – A nude woman with a penis, reclining and holding a bottle of beer – executed in leaded stained glass, with a medieval gargoyle at the woman's shoulder. I love a nice mash-up.
• Armene, "Balance" – A photo of a nude woman on all fours, except that each of her limbs is inside a long, slender white cone. A fifth such cone is on her head covering her eyes. It's a simple composition against a white background, but arresting.

I never did find the gallery store; I'm not sure there was one this year. That may be for the best.

But! This year's SEAF had something extra: what turned into a first date. The lady in question, K until further notice, was there with her friend and co-worker Pop Star. They work at a certain non-profit that's under constant threat of legal & physical attack to which I've donated money regularly. They had some hair-raising tales of the difficulties they face, especially on a national level, but their morale is also high.

Let me tell you about K: she's almost exactly my age, petite & zaftig with a cheerfully elfin face, thick brunette hair, and hazel eyes. We have an uncanny amount in common: we both raised sons with ADHD who are now in their early twenties. We both love London. We have certain... tastes in common that I'm reluctant to put online at all, not to mention those that only go in locked entries.

She put her hands on me a few times. There was an illicit, maskless kiss by the coat check right before we split up. She texted me good night with a photo. Yeah, I'm grinnin' like a fool. But I really should get some sleep before I text her again.

Oh: the next SEAF will be in the spring, as it's always been. The mad planning scramble starts now. I have that from a volunteer who seemed dazed by the prospect.

SFDs: I wore my Jestress outfit with hat, black & white horizontally striped tights and Bloomin' Fabulous boots, so I stood out among all the fetish wear. K's SFDs: silver brocade corset from London, black leggings with a snakeskin texture, and more sensible boots than I usually wear to SEAF.

I took Brown Eyes to the opening of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival last night. But before I get into that, I had a little technological scare.

As I was checking my coat* and messing with my evening bag, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that I'd accidentally activated the send-handwriting-by-SMS mode on my iPhone, which I didn't know existed. I didn't think twice about it until about a minute later when it seemed that my phone was completely bricked; the screen wouldn't turn on. This was about twenty minutes before Brown Eyes was due to arrive, and I had visions of her texting me and getting miffed at my lack of response; it could have been worse, but still, suboptimal timing. I spent the rest of the night with a bricked phone, but I plugged it into the charger anyway. This morning it's right as rain.

But! Brown Eyes arrived without incident, we got in & got drinks, and like, totally saw all the art. Notable trends this year: a lot of works featuring children. Maybe it's a parent thing, but BE & I were both a little squicked. Also a relative abundance of depictions of cutty things (which freaks me out) and poky things (which doesn't, as much). They did have one retrospective section which had a couple of faves from SEAFs past. I got to show Brown Eyes a little of what she missed; she'd never been before. The eye candy of the ambulatory variety was as fine as ever - I wish I looked that good in latex - if not as densely packed as I've seen it in the past. I dunno; maybe everybody decided to go tonight instead of last night.

My favorite piece, at least for most of the night (Foreshadowing!) was "Obsession" by Olga Zavershinskaya. Lots of red in a beautifully and meticulously composed photo that speaks to, well, a lot of my desires. At $750, I seriously considered buying a print.

From the Dept. of Be Careful What You Wish For: There's a younger lady, K, whom I've met out & about. I confess to first approaching her because she appeals to my weakness for a certain physical type: she's from Iran, speaking of brown eyes. As my date & I were taking a load off for a minute, K firmly informed me that I needed to come to one of her regular get-togethers at her place, which usually coincide with either Lambert House or dinner with m'boy. She mentioned that she has a trans friend who just started to transition a few months ago, so I may go out of a sense of trans duty. K herself is... intense, perceptive, and probably straight. (She was there with a much older fella.) She has interesting things to say about the difference between how sexism manifests in the US (objectification) vs. Iran (paternalism). She says playing dumb works way better for women here than in Iran.

Toward the end of the evening, Brown Eyes and I had one more look at "Obsession" because I liked it so much, but then something occurred to me.
"Wait a minute. Those hands on her aren't hers, are they?" I asked Brown Eyes.
"Nope." The hands in question, resting on her rib cage with splayed fingers, looked distinctly masculine.
"Fuck that! That's heteronormative. I'm not buying it. I just talked myself out of spending $750!"

I hadn't slept well the night before, and informed BE that as much as I'd love for her to take advantage of me, I might be pretty useless despite my prior consumption of strong tea & yerba mate. She said it was OK, she'd had a tough day full of doctor's appointments. In fact, she'd been quiet the whole evening because, she said, she'd been preoccupied with her upcoming surgery. Aw. I hope I showed her a good time. I think she needed one.



*My leather jacket, to go with my Acres of Dead Cow outfit - over the knee Fluevogs, pencil skirt, bra, opera gloves, all black leather - as requested by Brown Eyes.

SEAF Seduction with the Tickler was all about the eye candy, and running into friends I haven't seen in many years.

Best visual pun: Barebacking/Bearbacking. I'll just leave that there for your imagination. There was o group of four fabulously gay X-Men. gement's sister Sparky was there as an incongruously sexy Spider Queen. There was an adorable contortionist - a friend of the Tickler, natch - doing a messy food scene with a couple of less flexible colleagues. The Tickler and I agree that we need to ascertain the contortionist's sexual orientation because ahem.

Oh: Sparky's Burning Man theme camp was, among other orgs, tending bar as a fund raiser. Camp Beaverton needs to get in on that action. It's a pity I neither knew that was an option nor have my class 12 (WA bartender's license) anymore.

DJs: surprisingly good! The one I remember hearing was Fabulous Fab. I don't think we stayed long enough for Kristina Childs, but I know she can bring it. Yeah, I was grooving to the techno while other people were watching all the sexy. I can't help it: I'm a slave to the rave.

There was a young trans woman, D, who I met during my Microsoft days who was there with her sweetie. When I last saw her she hadn't yet transitioned, and now she's doing really well. Happy-making.

The Tickler and I ran out of gas around midnight. Darn this middle age business. My shoes didn't help, and it occurs to me today that among my recent Fluevog purchases is a pair that would be more comfortable and just as good with the outfit as the ones I've been wearing for the last couple of days. D'oh!

Tonight: a brief stop in costume at the Baltic Room to bat my eyelashes at Gnome. It's raining and my costume is silk, dammit.

Back on Valentine's Day, I went to a taping of the Savage Love podcast featuring, among others, rope maker and top extraordinaire Monk. He's a friend of elspethdemina, who introduced us at SEAF, and heaven knows how many other friends of mine, but I somehow didn't meet him until Saturday night. I gushed at him about how mesmerizing it is to watch him suspend somebody. He thanked me and said, "There's nothing worse than boring bondage." He talked excitedly about new tools he'd just gotten his hands on. He is seriously into tying people up as a performing art, and he's looking for ways to improve. That's what makes a master.

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Last night I bopped over to chez ionan, where he showed me how to drive Traktor. As somebody whose secret vice is all things bleepy, I'd always been curious about how it's done, but I'd never had anyone show me how to work a MIDI controller or DJ software. It was all I could do not to get off his couch and start dancing.

I'm listening to his DJ set from Critical now. Even though it's unmixed and scrambled by iTunes, it's made of happiness.

I'm typing at you from my old place in Kirkland - the one I own half of - where I'll be until Monday night because my Aspiring Ex and m'boy are flying to San Diego as I type for a cousin's wedding. I'm here to take care of Bigpuppy, harvest fruit, and water plants.

This isn't to say, however, that it'll be a dull weekend: I'll be at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival as usual tonight and tomorrow night.

This has been the week when I watched things go wrong from a safe distance: a friend losing his job, infestation, things going kablooey at work. I'm not worried that the other (Or is it the eighth?) shoe is going to drop. Not much.

This would have been more digestible as three entries, but I haven't had enough time with a 'pooter since Thursday. So...

Friday night: SEAF. I was delighted to see that the show was much lower on clichés than it's been in recent years.

My favorite piece? "Blush 2", by Stasia Barrington. It's a drawing of two nude women, neither of whose faces are quite visible, with one kissing the other just below the breasts. The artist cut flowers from a red floral cotton print and made the women's legs look tattooed, and at the same time made the figures blend with flowers in the background. Sweet and sublime. That picture had a lot of fans, and I get the impression that most of them are women.

Believe it or not, there were aerialists that I actually really liked. Four, to be exact. With a giant steel spider web. And male ninja counterweights working pulleys in the ceiling. Well done.

I'm hoping the woman with the giant eyes painted all over her body is queer. Ahem.

But what really made the exhibition for me was ether_maiden, who logs a crazy number of volunteer hours with SEAF every year. She looked scrumptious as she tooled around on her non-motorized scooter and told me things about the pieces that weren't in the cards on the wall. For example, there's a triptych with with a young man in clown costume & makeup in a montage with closeups of genitalia. Standing in front of it, she told me that those genitalia belong to his parents. I freaked out, loudly and at length.

On to Saturday! Had a lovely potluck dinner with some friends from Lambert house and their friends. (Yeah, "lesbian potluck dinner" really is redundant.) I followed them afterward into the dyke march, which was a nice little stroll around Capitol Hill with the occasional bare-breasted woman on a roof or candy-throwing dominatrix.

Then the sardine scene that is Hot Flash on Pride weekend, where I was glad to run into J&J, the couple who adopted me on the night before Pride last year. Flirtations and wiggling on the packed dance floor ensued.

But the highlight of that night was at Electric Tea Garden, where the Shameless crew laid down some mighty fine grooves. As I walked in, a woman of Far Eastern extraction that I recognize through (I think?) Burning Man connections greeted me, and I was embarrassed not to remember her name, as so often happens to me because I'm... memorable. (Foreshadowing!) As I'm dancing, who do I think I see? The gorgeous, petite, and taken femme that I met at the Bang and chatted with briefly. We danced, we talked a lot, she charmed my socks off with the last trace of a Russian accent. At one point she indicated that the DJ is her girlfriend. Yeah, the Chinese Burner. The jokes's on you, Maura. After an hour or so of talking alone outside with Russian Girl, easily the most beautiful woman in the place, I called it a night even though it wasn't yet 1:00. I figured I'd quit while I was ahead.

Quote of the weekend: I was lamenting the apparent straightness of another gorgeous woman who's a regular at ETG. Russian Girl said, with a note of impatience, "They're all straight until they're in bed with me. Then they say, 'Oh no, what did I do?' Figure it out." If anyone could turn straight women gay, it would be Russian Girl.

Which brings me to today. I went to the appointed spot for the Lambert House contingent at the start of the parade route, but found no one in a t-shirt matching mine. I eventually ascertained my group number, and found the ones near it on the number line, but still none of my peeps. I texted the only volunteer whose number I have, and she told me she waaay up the street, maybe two thirds of the way down the route. So I double-time it up the crowded sidewalks all the way to the Seattle Center, the end of the route. No Lambert.

However! I did run into the Young Lady in the Bowler, who by the way was looking tasty in blue sequined underwear, and I got my long overdue apology and a mustachioed kiss. Yeah, I'll give her a second (or is it third?) chance. imp_of_satan, whom I ran into seconds after I took my leave and hadn't seen since before Full Time (!), agrees that the YLB is hot.

On my way back down the route, I ran into the Lambert folks 3/4 of the way down the route. After we all got to the end, I found out that a) the friend I texted wasn't with them, and b) the organizers had squirreled them away underneath I-5 before the start of the parade, somehow managing to communicate that at the last minute to all the Lambert folks except me. I'm sad that I didn't get to see any of my friends along the way, but things worked out pretty well.

Ah, the magic of Pride.

I've bought a Seattle Erotic Art Festival ticket for Friday, June 22nd. (By the way, I think scheduling it on Pride weekend was a bad idea. An awful lot of TLBG people go to SEAF, and many of them will have plans that weekend.) I've succumbed to my usual manias for advance planning and for polling, so here you go:

[Poll #1839312]