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Archive for the ‘Coolness’ Category

milo-ventimiglia-no-shirtSo, I fell off the face of the planet. Can’t promise not to do it again. I’m still struggling with this stuff, and still can’t face going out to try and actually interact with it. It’s not even the thing itself that worries me at this point, it’s the thought of The Scene. I actually now feel like I want to move towards this, to explore, but I just have no clue how to do it.

So instead, I’ll just keep trawling the mainstream media in the safety of my own home, getting far too excited about everything which looks even a little bit like something which might be my thing.

Anyway, I’ve been meaning to post about Heroes for a while. Flawed as it is, here’s a lot to like in it, and I heartily approve of their equal opportunity approach to lechery. Season 2 was pretty much the season of half-naked Milo Ventimiglia, and Season 3 the season of half-naked Zachary Quinto. Thanks, Heroes producers.

In fact, though, Ventimiglia’s character, Peter, didn’t do for me at all in season 1. I might have loved him when I was 12, but as an adult, he was just a bit twee for my taste.

But then season 2 opened…

It’s the contrast as much as anything, so I’ll give you the back story. Peter was a sweet, soft, decent, floppy-haired pretty boy in a family of manipulative political near-mobsters. He was caring, gentle, emotional and perhaps a little fragile, and worked as a palliative care nurse. Then he turned out to have the ability to absorb other people’s superhero powers by empathising with them, making him potentially the most powerful ‘hero’ of the lot. He tried so hard to use his powers for good, but eventually he picked up some radioactive power that he couldn’t control at all, and at the end of season 1 his brother had to fly (like Superman, not like aeroplane) him out of New York in the nick of time to stop him accidentally blowing up the whole city.

So season 2 opens four months later, and Peter’s still missing. Noone really knows what happened when he, um, exploded. Through the whole first episode everyone’s wondering what happened to him. And then, far away, in Cork, some petty criminals with incredibly unconvincing Irish accents (really, rarely have I heard worse) go to a dockyard looking for some stolen merchandise, and open the crate to find not the ipods they were after, but a very confused, shirtless Peter, handcuffed to the wall. All cropped hair, dirt, and muscles. And with no idea who he is or how he got there.

I think my friends were a little confused by how excited I was about it. But I’m sure you can see it. Gentle Peter, suddenly turning up all dirty and muscular and bewildered, like someone picked up that soft, delicate creature, shaved his head, and brutalised him for four months. And then chained him up in a crate, and left him there. What did they have him doing all that time? Was he digging holes? Being forced to use his powers for evil? On a chain gang? Being experimented on? So many fun places the mind goes to.

And then, the not-Irish guys tie him to a chair and work him over. Still half-naked, so you can see all the muscles and sinews stretching. Splendid.

Video of Peter all dirty and bewildered and being beaten up in Cork (YouTube continues to be too smart for me, so you’ll have to watch it on Vimeo instead.)

By the way, it turns out that where he’s been is indeed a ‘research’ facility, where he’s spent four months being the plaything of the boss’s sadistic, lightning-wielding daughter. Awesome. And at first he’s all, ‘These people know best, I should be locked up because I’m a danger to myself and others,’ all docile and quietly taking the pills, but later (persuaded by the ‘English’ guy next door – another truly atrocious accent) he starts plotting to escape, and then he starts smooching up to her and letting her zap him, to distract her from the fact that he’s stopped taking the drugs. Which of course pleases my ‘men offering up their body when out of other options’ thing no end. And wow, I wish I could shoot electricity from my lips. How much fun?

Video of Peter being toyed with by sadistic daddy’s girl in a research facility

The following season, the lightning-wielding sadist, Elle, ends up in a facility herself, where she’s visited by series big bad, serial killer Sylar (Quinto), who killed her father to take his powers. He’s got a sudden case of the warm and fuzzies, having had a taste of unconditional love from his long lost (not really, but he thought so) ‘real’ mother. And so now his long lost (not really, but he thought so) ‘real’ father thinks he can change his ways, and learn empathy to take people’s powers without killing them, by learning empathy.

So Sylar lets Elle take her revenge on him. Which she does by lightninging him up (yes, I said lightninging) to the point where she’s literally flaying the flesh from his bones. I mean, sure, he regenerates, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt (hello, Wolverine, my old friend). And he just keeps getting up and letting her hurt him more, taking it all for her. And really, they could hardly have found a better body to rip the clothes off with lightning.

Video of lightning vengeance

And then, the next season, the government decided everyone with powers should be rounded up and killed/locked up/experimented on -so all the heroes had to go on the run. I love men on the run. The desperation, the fear, the loneliness, the physical hardship, the sheer unrelentingness of it. Yum yum yum.

So, yeah, a lot to love.

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This looks like so much fun

Sol on Fire Play: Dancing with the Sun!

Let’s talk a little about Fire Performance. Why do we dance with fire? It is because of the primal nature of the element. Man lives in awe of the elements and has worshiped them from the dawn of time. Using the elements brings incredible power to any art. When man harnessed the element of fire the primal nature was tapped. Or have we harnessed it? The illusion of control has at times led to devastating effects. Yet man is still fascinated by fire as he dances with utility and the power he will never control.

In this discussion Michael Sol will demonstrate dancing with fire as it pertains to BDSM play and beyond; for the dance is a must, because control is an illusion. A fire performer learns to move with the fire and guide it in a profound and fascinating dance. We will discuss how a fire performer develops a relationship with the uncontrollable and manages the risk while maintaining intensity. In the BDSM world we use the intensity of fire to build and thrill, and also to massage and relax with sensual touch. Fire is a dance and a journey of the spirit as well as the body. Come see a Dance with the Sun.

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My Christmas present came early this year – I’ve been snowed in at a friend’s house with a few people, including one very beautiful young man who’s spent a lot of time running around in his underwear. I confess I’ve been mildly sexually harrassing him.

Even more fun, one of the girls teaches this, and has been flying us. I wish I could find a good picture to show you. It’s a bit like when you were little and adults would ‘fly’ you on their feet, only with therapeutic stuff built in. Imagine a tiny, petite woman lying on the floor, with a grown man (a beautiful young man) stretched out face down over her hands and feet – essentially, he’s stretched out the way he would be if he were hanging by his arms, with his chest extended, his stomach pulled in – and she has him raise his arms over his head (this is horizontal at this point), bend them at the elbows, and join his hands, so that his forearms are now pointing down his back, and his hands are in a praying position. It was incredibly powerful – this tiny woman effortlessly manipulating a man’s body as if it weighed nothing, him all stretched out and completely dependent on her. Total trust. A kind of submission, really. A kind of bondage, even.

This is the closest picture I could find, except that in this picture the flyer’s body is angled downwards, in the pose I’m talking about the base’s hands were raised so that the flyer is stretched out horizontally and the spine is curved and extended, and of course the arms bent back over the spine really adds some extra punch. Annoyingly all the pictures on the interweb seem to have make bases and female flyers – it’s a totally different experience the other way round.

Not so fun was an odd little moment one morning. For various reasons I’d ended up sharing a bed with the pretty young man (I was very well behaved), and the next morning I made some quip about how he was tired because he’d been fighting me off all night. I’m sure you can imagine the scenario that was in my head – me pinning him down and molesting him, and him struggling to break free. I quickly discovered that what I said created a totally different image in the minds of my friends – the jokes they made in response were all about a scenario where I was pleading with the PYM to have sex with me. It’s so messed up – for most people, a woman actively pursuing sex equates to her being desperate and powerless. Stupid fucking society. There seems to be no way to get away from the rule that a woman’s power lies in saying no – that men must pursue and women must run. How can we get people to see these things differently?

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Beyond the Hills

I just had to pause to pimp up this blog. Ranat seems to be wrestling with similar stuff to me, only has reached the point of actually physically experimenting with it.

Plus, pretty pictures.

Ranat, I think I love you.

And oh! The hurting and the healing. Yes! As a child I always loved those movies and shows where the guy is flinching as the girl tends his wounds because it all hurts, but it’s also so tender. I want a big tough guy, and I want to make him cry. And then I want to kiss away the tears. And I thought perhaps then the kink police would come along and take away my dom card for that (except of course I don’t have a card because I’m only a baby wannabe dom), but clearly I’m not the only one who feels that way. And besides, screw the kink police. Stupid bastards. I’m not going to be judged by anyone who voluntarily wears rubber. And besides, isn’t the point of this stuff that we don’t judge our responses? (Yes, including the rubber. I apologise, rubber fans.) And besides, I’ve talked before about the power of interspersing cruelty with kindness.

OK, I’m waffling. I’m going to go off and look for that Wolverine clip instead.

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