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Wednesday, October 10th 2012
My capacity for salaciousness is tremendous. My greatest pleasure is looking at and touching exposed flesh. I am voracious in my admiration of a woman’s body. I adore every bit: an elegant clavicle, the curve of the lower back, a plump bum, a soft belly, long fingers, slim arms, the fleshy tops of the thighs, pointed toes, a hip’s curve, parted lips, a long swan neck, flushed cheeks, gapped teeth, a bruised knee, pale breasts, the muscles of an outer thigh, worrying fingers, stray locks of hair escaping a ponytail, a tan-line tracing the memory of summer around the shoulders and down the back, tattoos decorating skin like bookmarks, tiny scars that recall aching nostalgia, a pert nose, glowing bronze flesh, downy pubic hair, shorn locks revealing the most kissable part of the neck, a strong profile, delicate wrists, thick dark lashes, spectacularly curved brows, freckled shoulders, a jutted hipbone, a connect the dots puzzle of beauty marks, a bit lower lip tugged between teeth, tight pink nipples, painted lips, a furrowed brow, curls falling over a shoulder, skin so pale that delicate blue lines can be traced.
There is something luscious and lovely in every woman so long as she possesses confidence, and if she does not, there is something luscious and lovely lurking beneath, waiting to reveal itself. I encourage every woman to revel in her flesh; to touch photograph, share, and possess it. Your body is yours and yours alone, but it is terribly fun to decorate and reveal your form. Modesty is underrated; show us what you’ve got. I bet it’s exquisite.
LOOK AT DA STEMS ON MY DAME!
Saturday, October 6th 2012
The first records I bought with my own money were a pair of 45’s from the Bradley’s department store (where my Mom and I also got our ears pierced the same year): Donna Summer’s “Unconditional Love” and The Kinks’ “Come Dancing”. My first full-length album, however (and this is really embarrassing), was ZZ Top: Eliminator. We spent that Summer at our father’s, so that Mom and Bill could finally have a honeymoon. Though he (like us) did not have cable, he did (unlike us) have a VCR, and he had taped about an hour of MTV at a friend’s house for Ed and I to watch (and watch those videos we did, over, and over, and over). I could probably re-create from memory every video:
Stevie Nicks— Gypsy;
Taco— Puttin on the Ritz;
Michael Jackson— Beat It;
The Human League— Fascination
Among these gems, though, The ZZ Top song “Legs” was my favorite. It reinforced the message I had picked up from my other over-and-over-and-over-on-VHS-favorite, the movie “Grease”: sexy = powerful. Even the prim, dowdy goodie-two-shoes can have her way and get what she wants if she just plays the game and ups the sex appeal.
As soon as I saw the prompt “Legs” (for Bohemea’s words with photo #1), all I could think of was the (stupid, stupid) video, and all I could picture was the cover to the single, with the red hot rod with the blonde at the wheel, and the back-view of the other woman’s seamed-stockinged legs in the foreground (stilettos, leather miniskirt…in the desert? with her wire-frame glasses in her hand?). I had big plans to recreate that image (I even bought a junky pair of stilettos today, because, to my surprise, I have none), but this is as far as I got before I got angry about the setting sun and the shape of my knees, and Ludo wanted to help with every picture, but there’s no yellow lab on that album art, as far as I remember.