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Just a girl

January 31, 2006

Here’s the thing: sure I’m smart and cool and have big squishy boobs and all, but I am also mildly friendly (except early in the morning, if you’re invading my personal space in public, or if you think you can come between me and my ham sammiches). Therefore, say hi!

In the last week, I’ve discovered a post on a blog and a thread on a website for which I’m a near-future model, both singing my praises. This simultaneously gave me warm fuzzies and made me feel kinda bummed out. Warm fuzzies are for obvious reasons: it’s nice to know that people think I’m rad and I’m not just barking into the void. Bummed out because it feels weird that people are talking about me, but not to me.

This is a peculiarity of in/famy, I suppose (and believe me, I take said in/famy with a grain of salt). It sets people apart from each other, and there’s really no reason for it. The space – its just air, tainted by hype. It’s not an impenetrable fortress.

So: you should say hi instead of writing about me. Sure, I like traffic coming to my website as much as the next dude, but ultimately I don’t really give a shit about that – I’d rather talk to people. And if you do write about instead of to me, remember, this is the internet, and I can see you (I have the tools, I have the talent).

This isn’t all a selfish thing – I swear. To stir up the awesome-karma, I made a New Year’s resolution (I know, its nearly February, I’m working on my own sweet time here) to write more fan mail. You should too – and I don’t necessarily mean to me, I mean to anyone you think is awesome. People like to know they are awesome, especially if you give them examples of how they make you think, scream, etc. Be friendly and kill the pretend spaces in between.

Posted by Dacia at 12:36 AM | Comments (22) | TrackBack

Whaleman dick

January 26, 2006

So what have I been up to lately? You mean other than sloppy making out with friends at Rachel Kramel Bussel’s erotica reading series, being gifted with a pointy knife by Joe Gallant, and drinking whiskey til 4 a.m. on a Wednesday?

I’ve been reading Moby-Dick.

And watching gay porn.

Not at the same time, but I’ve found that these two things go together quite nicely (even better than whiskey and knives, if you can believe it).

Moby-Dick, like many books, is a better read without pants. And let me tell you, I keep finding my hand wandering to my girlparts as I read. Yes, I’ve been masturbating to one of the best English-language novels ever.

I’m going to make a bold statement here: a bunch of dudes on a whaling boat is even sexier than a bunch of pirates on a pirate ship. Is it total heresy for me to speak against the undeniable hotness of pirates? Perhaps, but I swear it’s the goddamned truth. I mean, pirates are awesome and wear rad outfits and are swashbucklingly violent and all, but whaling dudes are all butch, they get filthy, their skin gets all tough and leathery, and they thrust their harpoons into the whale again and again, in and out, until its hot quivering flesh is still. See what I mean?

I think my semester will be a hell of a lot more interesting if I can spin erotic fantasies around all of my assigned reading. I mean, I’m interested in the reading already, but if I can masturbate to it I can reduce my porn-viewing time and increase my time spent on reading. Everybody wins! Especially Herman Melville!

And seriously, if Richard Simmons could do “Sweatin’ to the Oldies,” Audacia Ray can do “Masturbatin’ to the Classics.”

Posted by Dacia at 12:27 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

Fun with flesh

January 24, 2006

Back in early December I shot a series of photographs with Om Rupani, a talented fashion photographer. The idea of the shoot was to show the body (er, specifically, my body) under strain, not in a specifically bondage context, but using the suggestion of bondage to put my body under strain, flesh squishing and folding in on itself. You can see a few images from the series in my (new and improved) portfolio, here.

Instead of worrying about the most flattering poses and postures, I poked and prodded and squished my squishiness, and it was kind of awesome. It was really interesting to let go of the idea of looking nice and shapely, and mess with the shapes within the shape of my body.

Though Om really wanted the shoot to be an erotic experience for me, I found myself being too fascinated with the gravity of being a body to get at all caught up in or interested in the possible eroticism. Nakedness doesn’t always create a sexy state of mind for me, and I can’t (and more precisely, won’t) push myself in that direction if I’m not feeling it. This is, incidentally, why I’m a terrible actress – I just don’t get it, I can’t make myself feel a way I don’t, and I feel fake, stupid and ornery if I try.

During the shoot, we talked about the difficulty Om had been having in getting a woman to do a shoot like this, where she wasn’t guaranteed to look perfect and svelte. I get that: most models (and more broadly, most women) don’t want to see their flesh like that, don’t want to emphasize the inner thigh bulge, the folds of the stomach when a body bends. Somehow, and not in a masochistic way because it doesn’t distress me to see my body like this, I can’t get enough of it, and I find myself so visually drawn to it. There is, however, a bit of a gap that kind of surprised me: in the shoot itself, I felt a little twisted and uncomfortable and I kept looking down at my body and thinking, “Shit, that’s going to look grotesque,” but Om created something not at all grotesque, but still fleshy, full of texture and weight.

Posted by Dacia at 01:51 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

No more fun? the business of pleasure

January 19, 2006

Some people get into the sex industry because they love sex – they love to fuck, to show off their bodies, to be around people who love sex, to relish in their sexualities. Other people have a slightly colder, more calculated, more businesslike approach – sex sells, on a lot of levels. This is not to say that pleasure and business are mutually exclusive in an industry built on the business of pleasure, but these things are complicated.

I think a lot of it is a generational thing. The sex industry, for better and worse, is becoming more organized and more formal. Of course you can still hear stories of after-hours parties at porn events and strip clubs, where people are overcome with sexual energy and just have to fuck, but I get the impression that this is becoming increasingly rare.

Last week at the $pread issue 4 release party there were some folks at the party who were disappointed by the lack of pink and the controlled debauchery of the evening. One of my fellow editors was approached by Guy Gonzales, who has haunted Times Square for many years and can spin many a fine tale about peep shows, being in live sex shows for $8 a pop, and managing nude clubs. Guy said that the event wasn’t really an authentic representation of sex workers because there wasn’t any sex happening, and the editor politely replied that many of the attendees may be sex workers but none of them were working at the moment, they were just relaxing with friends and colleagues.

Its interesting, this division between work and life – it’s a hard thing to do when your work is sex (not even having sex, just sex-related) and you like sex. It’s easy to fuck up your boundaries, burn out, wonder what they hell you’re doing. Or if you’re of a different temperament, maybe it’s easy to keep all those things happily blended together. Maybe the sex industry is weirdly populated by increasingly prudish people, despite the prevalence of double anal creampies and the like. At any rate, it’s interesting to see a gap between generations of sex folk, even if there is some animosity there, because the generation gap means that sex is starting to have and maintain a history, one that is less secret, one that is being told by our filthy elders, gather-round-the-campfire style.

Posted by Dacia at 11:36 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

More portfolio updates

January 18, 2006

Four more sets have been added to my portfolio, and there’s one more on the way.

Posted by Dacia at 11:34 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Photoset > Industrial Cowgirl

January 16, 2006

So I have this fuzzy leopard print cowboy hat and I just happened to have matching shoes, and in my mind those two items constitute an outfit. So in May 2005 I went to an abandoned factory with Brian Rawson and played cowgirl for a day. In the second picture I’m doing my impression of a wink.

Posted by Dacia at 05:24 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > Dead Farm

In March 2005, Brian Rawson and I were inspired by a so-called warm day (it was 40° F) and decided to break into an abandoned farm. Once I got naked inside the falling down house, I realized it wasn’t so warm. It was a little warmer inside the greenhouse, and finding the chainsaw made up for everything. Also, this was the day I mastered the art of walking in six inch heels. Nothing can teach you that skill like walking on debris that looks like it could do serious bodily harm if you fell onto it.

Posted by Dacia at 05:12 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > Glamour Trash

I spent all of July 2005 in Amsterdam, studying sexuality and eating Dutch licorice (that’s no euphemism, their licorice is really awesome). While I was in the Netherlands, I decided to take a trip to Nijmegen to shoot with Visualclash, whose work I became enamoured with via his website. Leopard print, gold shoes, brushed out hair and voila: glamour trash.

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Photoset > Black and white

The only thing more awesome than being naked on a Manhattan rooftop is being naked on a Manhattan rooftop in broad daylight on a weekday, so I can taunt the people in offices with views.

The last two photos in this set were shot inside the dressing room (which I am obviously not using for dressing) of Logan Grendel’s studio.

Posted by Dacia at 04:39 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > On the town

One balmy night in September 2005, Logan Grendel and I set out to find a side street near the West Side Highway, where I could bare my breasts in peace on the quiet streets of New York City. It wasn’t especially quiet, but it was damn fun. Around 2 am, we decided to try our luck in the subway, and took a few no pants shots on the E train, at its end-of-the-line World Trade Center stop. The subway was weirdly more peaceful than the street, but just as awesome.

Posted by Dacia at 04:16 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Portfolio update!

At long last! Here’s the first half of my portfolio update. There are six sets, and a total of 25 new pictures, which include red suspenders, twine, body paint, boxing gloves, mud, a computer monitor on my head, and a frilly dress..

Check it all out here.

Posted by Dacia at 12:48 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

The truth about exploitation

Are we so sure there is one?

A lot of interesting comments popped up in my recent post about porn and such. For instance: “…as an alternate perspective, I’ve taken a personal vow not to “enjoy” porn unless I’m sure that it’s humanely produced. In other words, that the performers aren’t being exploited.”

Not to be a boner biter here, but how can one ascertain whether or not performers are being exploited? I’m not sure that there is an accurate measuring stick for exploitation, and anyway, I don’t know if anyone could come to an agreement about what exploitation is. But, as an exercise, let me try. There’s your basic stuff: the acts depicted in porn should be consensual. Non-consensual acts are exploitative. We can probably all agree on that.

Ok. But now let’s talk about work. Is work consensual? I think about this, and kind of chuckle – there are plenty of people in the world who don’t especially like going to work, whatever it is that they do.

Is sex work, at base, more exploitative than other forms of work? I think the combination of sex and work ups the ante as far as the possibility for exploitation – because people who make sexual congress their business (on a variety of levels) often commit themselves to a stigmatized life, and marginalized people are vulnerable to exploitation. But this is different than the idea of working in the sex industry being inherently bad, evil and exploitative.

To paraphrase a bit of writing one of my fellow $preadsters did, all choices are constrained by something. Does this mean all choices are non-consensual? Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but oftentimes choices are made that wouldn’t be desirable if all things were equal, that magic and unrealistic state of being. The point is, pointing the finger and yelling “that’s exploitation!” is often a little too simplistic, because sometimes choices are made in less than ideal circumstances. Until culture and capitalism at large allow people to make unconstrained choices, exploitation and its murky cousins will persist. So – don’t hold your breath.

Ok, shit, I don’t want to end on such a downer. I do believe in resistance to these structures, and I believe that simply (or not so simply) being aware and critical of the forces at work is a step in the right direction. So now, instead of ended on a downer, I’m ending on a slightly go-get-em preachy note.

Posted by Dacia at 01:22 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

Photoset > Mud Creature

January 15, 2006

For this photo shoot, Brian Rawson and I carried six gallons of water, a shovel, a camera and a bunch of towels out into the woods on Long Island (yes, they have woods there!). It was a sunny day in May 2005, and I sat on a log eating a ham sandwich while I watched Brian dig a hole in the dirt. And then we poured the water in it. And then I got naked and rolled around in mud, and the day didn’t feel so sunny and warm. I hope you’ll agree that it was totally worth it, though.

Posted by Dacia at 08:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > Robot Love

Brian Rawson and I share a special kind of love - a hot hot robot love. He found this cool abandoned house and we turned one of the rooms into a mad scientist’s robot love lab. Then he did a little photoshopping in the monitors so he could make fun of my sandwich preferences.

Posted by Dacia at 08:30 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > Boxing

I worked with EMG Studios in August 2005. We shot in a boxing gym, where we decided that my outfit of a red latex rubber bra and big puffy black taffeta skirt (thirft store purchase, woo-hoo!) would be best complimented by boxing gloves and some time in the ring.

Posted by Dacia at 08:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > Under Strain

In early December 2005 I shot this series of photographs with Om Rupani. The idea of the shoot was to show my body under strain, not in a specifically bondage context, but using the suggestion of bondage to put my body under strain, flesh squishing and folding in on itself. Add some black and gold body paint, and you’ve got a Dacia-style mess. This stuff was way harder to scrub off than the mud.

Posted by Dacia at 07:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Photoset > Sleazy Hotel

In early December 2005, I spent a morning with Bob Coulter, he of the Crazy Babe. Classy guy that he is, he took me to a sleazy hotel with a hole in the bathroom floor, where we watched Berenstein Bears on the teevee and I cavorted around in various stages of undress.

Posted by Dacia at 07:41 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Non-stop $pread

January 14, 2006

Sometimes, my life is super slow and not at all action packed. Earlier this week, when a friend called and asked what I was up to, my answer was “Laying in bed, eating chocolate pudding and reading comic books.” (er, I mean, graphic novels – specifically Y: The Last Man, which is goddamned amazing).

But in the last two days – whoa.

Thursday night $pread magazine hosted two events to promote and celebrate the release of our fourth issue, which completes our first volume – an entire year of $pread. We were also celebrating our Utne Independent Press Award for “Best New Title,” which consistently reminds and impresses us with proof that we are, indeed, a real magazine. Issue four features our first cover boy in a story called “Rich Merritt: Coming out as a Gay Marine Porn Star.” Juicy, eh? My favorite pieces in this issue include our recurring interview feature, Intercourses, which this time around is “$pread speaks with labor movement veteran Bill Fletcher Jr.” There’s also a great piece about New Orleans’ strippers in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. My absolute favorite piece is Echo Transgression’s “Beautiful Grotesque: An Escort’s Letter to Her Favorite Artist.” I contributed an interview with photographer Charise Isis, the news shorts, a book review, and the first installment of a news recurring piece, Style, which features the amazing designs of Bella Vendetta’s company My Own Brain. Yes, I’ve been busy.

Canada’s SexTV was on hand to interview me about the magazine and document the evening’s activities, which kicked off with a reading at Bluestockings. JB McGeever read a beautiful and trying piece of fiction that’s in the current issue, Jo Weldon read about her experiences in and between stripping and burlesque, Shane Luitjens read about sex work, recreational sex and affection, Sarah Patterson read her piece from the current issue about foot fetish work, Tracy Quan read an excerpt of her new novel on why her main character is not a crack whore, and my fellow editor Eliyanna and I read some samples of recurring features, reviews and news in the magazine. Bluestockings was totally packed – standing room only.

We then moseyed around the corner to the Slipper Room and the second portion of the night – the Sex Work Olympics. We’d come up with a bunch of sex work related different events to humiliate volunteers with: a contest to see which contestant could most quickly put a condom on a dildo using only his or her mouth, an obstacle course in which contestants had to wear stilettos and not spill a very full martini glass, a challenge in which pairs of people had to make a convincing BDSM scene with random objects (including a plastic stegosaurus) and a phone sex contest. Highly (and high-minded) entertaining, let me tell you.

I got home, full of whiskey, around 3 am. Good times indeed. Though its definitely stressful to throw these events for $pread, for me at least it’s a morale boost to work my ass off on each issue of the magazine and then be rewarded by seeing a roomful of eager and supportive people.

Today I made the boob-altering decision to retire my nipple piercings, as despite some good old fashioned TLC in the form of salt water soaks and tea tree oil, my right piercing is starting to reject – that is, grow out. I’ve been resisting this decision for a few weeks, but yesterday in the shower I noticed that I could see the glint of the jewelry through my skin – ew. So, this morning, after a good long last look at my shiny nipples, I took the jewelry out. I technically could’ve kept the left one in, but I’m keen on symmetry. It’s strange, after almost two and a half years, to see my nipples not shiny. I feel very bare breasted. Not necessarily a bad thing, just weird. I will say that I’m looking forward to being able to rigorously towel off my breasts after a shower without the fear of snagging a piercing.

Anyway, after dealing with the nipple ornamentation issue and consoling myself with a ham sandwich, I headed into Manhattan for my first WBAI interview of the weekend with Riseup Radio, which is all about youth activism. It was a pretty awesome show, and though our time was cut a little short, it was a good interview to do. I love the radio, especially stations like WBAI where the hosts are really enthusiastic about telling stories and being unabashedly political.

I’m about to dive into a weekend of doing more interviews with the press and a whole hell of a lot of writing. I’m feeling inspired in that brain-too-fast-for-typing-skills kind of way. Not a bad problem to have, really.

Posted by Dacia at 01:42 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Photoset > Dirty Alice

January 12, 2006

The following images were shot by Eric H in a painter friend of mine’s apartment in June 2005. The room had a very Alice In Wonderland feel to me, so… dirty Alice!

Posted by Dacia at 08:07 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

TONIGHT - $pread Magazine Reading and Sex Work Olympics

Tonight, Thursday January 12th, join $pread for a double event to celebrate the launch of Issue 4, which features our first cover boy, gay Marine porn star Rich Merritt!

The evening starts with a coffeehouse reading and discussion at Bluestockings Bookstore, with Tracy Quan, Audacia Ray, Jo Weldon, Shane Luitjens, JB MC Geever, Sarah Patterson, and other $pread contributors and friends!

DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE A SEX OLYMPIAN?

Come and compete onstage for a medal in the kinkiest kind of athletic competitions…

The Sex Work Olympics, the afterparty to our reading, is just around the corner at $pread’s favorite party location, the Slipper Room. Join in or just watch as contestants compete in sporting events to represent all sectors of the industry!

Then dance the night away as our heartbreakingly amazing DJs spin till 2am & beyond.

Reading: 7pm - 9pm @ Bluestockings Bookstore, 172 Allen St, between Rivington and Stanton Sts., Subway F, V to 2nd Ave $4 - $8

Sex Work Olympics Party: 9pm - 2am @ The Slipper Room, 167 Orchard St, on the corner of Orchard and Stanton Sts., Subway F, V to 2nd Ave. $7 - $10

Both events: $7 - $11

Posted by Dacia at 12:52 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

WBAI loves $pread two times

January 11, 2006

1.13.06 and 1.15.06 - WBAI loves $pread two times!

Friday night on WBAI’s Riseup Radio from 9-10 pm listen to me and fellow $pread executive editor Eliyanna Kaiser talk about sex work, activism, and $pread.

On Sunday night at 6.30 Eliyanna and I are at it again on WBAI’s Equal Time for Free Thought, where we’ll be discussing commercial sex and healthy sexuality.

Posted by Dacia at 08:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Gaps in perception

January 10, 2006

Oftentimes when I watch porn I wonder about the ways that performers are managed and treated off screen, and how that is connected to the way they appear on screen. A lot of talk about porn, exploitation and objectification of women focuses on the image, the public end result, though some of it also focuses on the behind the scenes treatment of women, such as in the many tales of Linda Lovelace’s treatment by her husband/manager Chuck Traynor. Sometimes there’s a pretty strong connection between how a performer is treated off screen and how she appears on screen – especially if the off screen treatment is wretched, claims of exploitation all around are pretty valid.

But of course this can be really complicated. A great example is Bang Bus – a “reality porn” concept in which dudes drive around in a bus, pick up a girl, offer her cash money for fucking, fuck the hell out of her and then toss her out of the bus without paying her. These flicks are all fantasy – the scenes are pre-arranged with hired performers who then act out their roles. There is definitely a creepy and exploitative overtone to these videos, but from what I’ve heard from various performers, the shoots are pretty comfortable and fun.

This is kind of the flipside to the first paragraph – what happens when the end result is supposed to embody various yucky misogynistic fantasies, but the company is not misogynistic, deceptive or evil in its dealings with its performers (note that I’m not necessarily bestowing all of that on BangBus)? There is definitely something creepy about responding to a market (or perceived market) for movies that feature girls getting fucked over in ways that imply lack of consent – but if the performers consent to the films and porn is the enactment of people’s fantasies, is it all bad? Fantasies are often detached from what people really want to do to each other, but porn messes a bit of that up because it involves real people doing real things to each other, even if it’s technically in a fantasy realm.

I think it’s impossible to talk about the ways in which images may or may be not exploitative without talking about the conditions (working and cultural) under which people are expected to create/perform in them. Unfortunately, this isn’t always known – but its one of the things that I find really interesting, not just in the porn world but in other visual culture as well, especially in art. It’s easier just to read the image and think about the auteur, the vision of the person holding the camera or the paintbrush, but what about the person being depicted and their input?

Posted by Dacia at 05:05 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

$pread #4 Reading and Party

1.12.06 - Reading 7-9 pm, Party 9 pm on
$pread Magazine Issue 4 Reading and Party

Join $pread editors, staff and contributors at a reading at Bluestockings (72 Allen St, between Rivington and Stanton Sts., Subway F, V to 2nd Ave) featuring Tracy Quan, Jo Weldon, Shane Luitjens and yours truly.

Then head over to the Slipper Room (167 Orchard St, on the corner of Orchard and Stanton Sts., Subway F, V to 2nd Ave) for $pread’s Sex Worker Olympics Event, which promises total zany hilarity!

Reading is $4, Party is $7 - special discount for both events!

Posted by Dacia at 03:08 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Pipin' hot porn

January 06, 2006

I watch a hell damn lot of porn. And after keeping this up for a few years, I feel pretty jaded by it all – even by the stuff I like. When I heard about Eon McKai’s Neu Wave Hookers, my first thought was “Oh! I can’t wait to see the packaging and design!” – immediately followed by “Packaging? Somebody kill me.” But whatever, I relish being turned on by sexy design. The point is that I often look past the (frequently unremarkable in-out) sex and have these thoughts about design and production values and stuff, and the sex becomes secondary.

I was jolted back into paying attention to the sex by two really amazing porn flicks Jane and I watched last weekend, movies that had me squirming in my seat within moments, grinning the stupid grin of good porn discoveries. And elbowing Jane in the boob and exclaiming – “Did you see that? So! Hot!” as if she couldn’t see for herself.

First up: Buck’s Beaver, by the ultra-awesome man with a pussy himself, Buck Angel. “THIS is motherfucking alt porn,” I declared to Jane while we were watching it. You can’t get more alt than a tattooed transman topping the man who is fucking his pussy and saying “Fuck it, bitch.” Scene by scene it’s a pretty damn hot movie, with lots of gender-bending, power play and plain old hot fucking. And - safer sex. Lots of it.

But it’s not just the fucking that’s hot in Buck’s film – he’s got a whole lotta sexual intelligence working for him. The sex scenes are interspersed with an interview, and Buck handles the questions so well, even when they get borderline offensive, like when the perplexed interviewer asks “So who is ‘the man’ in your sex life?” and he laughing responds, “I’m always a man!” Plus he smokes a cigar through the interview and during a lot of the movie (and even extinguishes it on a girl in the first scene – hot cha!).

This weekend he’s in Vegas with hordes of other porn folk, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for him because “Buck’s Beaver” is the first porn with a FTM in it that has been nominated for the AVN “Best Transsexual Release” award. Though I haven’t seen it yet, you might also check out “Allanah Star’s Big Boob Adventures,” in which Buck gets it on with a FTM.

Secondly, but no less awesome: At the behest of Cherry Bomb and Tony Comstock, I got myself a copy of The Crash Pad, a virgin venture by Pink and White Productions. It’s a pretty impressive production – a clever plot device has the whole film shot in one location, which is budgetal without being lame. Also, I love the lighting, which isn’t overly bright, but is atmospheric without obscuring the good parts. Blah, blah, blah – onto the fucking.

The thing about porno sex is that a lot of the time, it isn’t “real” sex – it needs to be done in a way that lets the camera in on the action and often includes retarded but athletic positions, is done on a schedule and often between partners without chemistry. Such is the business. But by golly, this movie has real sex in it. So much for lesbian bed death – the dykes in “The Crash Pad” really show how good sex is done. The performers’ bodies shine with sweat and you can almost smell the hot lesbian pheromones poring off of them. There’s lots of strap on play, enthusiastic tongues and fingers and real (and real powerful) orgasms. Two of the scenes have really impressive squirting in them – I mean, I have seen some impressive squirting in my day and holy bejesus that was good.

Both of these movies will make you happy in your pants – or at least in the area where your pants should be but won’t be, because your pants will come off super fast. Actually, go ahead and take your pants off now, in anticipation. Isn’t that better?

Posted by Dacia at 09:36 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Countdown to New Year’s

January 05, 2006

I am not what you would label as a person who is psyched about the holidays, any holidays (well, except maybe birthdays – I like to spoil and be spoiled when it comes to those). So, although I’m sure some stuff of note happened over the last few weeks of holidays and crap, I don’t really feel like re-capping all of it. So let’s start with New Year’s, or shortly before it.

The week between Xmas and New Year’s was not a whole lot of fun. I realized that I’m really pretty terrible at relaxing. When I have a lot to do, I am excellent at fucking off and procrastinating and doing things that for all intents and purposes are relaxing, but when I have designated time to relax, I get antsy and depressed. I kept trying to convince myself that I was lying in bed watching teevee because I was relaxed, but the reality was that I was too bummed out to get out of bed.

At the end of the week of malaise and ennui, I got my bullshit together, packed a nice small weekend bag (seriously, the extreme smallness of the bag was impressive) and had a fun New Year’s Eve Eve. The Friday night plan was as such: eat lots of food with friends, head to the Continental and the annual Ramones tribute show, make up with boyfriend, stay up drinking all night and head to the airport for my 5.30 am flight to Houston after last call (which is at 4 am here in glorious NYC).

Jefferson was having a small dinner with Mitzi, Meg and Viviane, and so I grabbed a bottle of wine my upstairs neighbors had recommended and set off. The spread was impressive and varied – Viviane appeared with sushi which was quickly devoured, Meg prepared her famous mac and cheese, Jefferson made special cumin and cilantro turkey burgers with sweet potato fries, Mitzi presented her grandma’s special chocolate chip cookies, and I ate lots of all of it.

Around eleven thirty, I decided to make my way to the Continental, where things were loud and fueled by alcohol. Ah, just like home. Except with the standing up. Things were almost instantly all better with my gentleman friend, and we commenced several hours of drinking and socializing before I had to hail a cab. I showed up at the airport to mingle with passengers who looked like they’d just rolled out of bed, while I looked like I’d just arrived from an East Village bar, what with the red fishnets and the inebriation. Tipsy at the airport is damn funny, take my word for it (or hell, do it yourself). I was asleep before takeoff and hungover by the time I got to Houston. And then – there was Jane, with her blue hair and the damned warm weather. We headed back to her place, where I admired her paint job and then promptly collapsed for a few hours. When I woke, we collected the items necessary for a Jane-Dacia weekend: ham, cheese, ice cream, and chocolate pudding. And porn - which I will write about shortly.

That’s pretty much the catch-up drill.

Posted by Dacia at 05:24 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

I'm back!

January 04, 2006

I know it seems as though I’ve abandoned you all, but really I’ve been in the glass cage of emotion that is the technical difficulties of the interweb. I’ve been getting emails, but not comments, and I’ve been technologically unable to post anything since December 20th. And it seems that a few posts I made in the week before that have been lost in the ether. Not awesome.

But what is awesome is that I’m back in the saddle, as it were, because Amber is awesome. I was sort of thinking about taking a brief vacation from blogging, but since that was forced on me, I got all anxious to get back to this here habit of mine. So here I am! Woo-hoo!

Lordy, some good stuff has happened in the past few weeks. You’ll get some real posts headed your way supersoon (for reals), but first, two announcements of awesomeness that I just have to gloat about a little bit.

You know that magazine I work for, $pread? Well, this little magazine put together by a small group of activists who last year at this time didn’t know diddley about making a print magazine, has won the Utne Independent Press Award for “Best New Title.” Not bad eh?

Exciting thing number two is that Fleshbot named me #3 on their Top Ten Hotties of 2005 list last week. I found this out while sitting at my computer in my underwear, having just woken at the crack of noon and commenced eating my healthy breakfast of chocolate pudding. I’m impressed that there were quite a few tattooed ladies and east coast ladies (sometimes both at the same time!) on the list. For example, the lovely and awesome Bella Vendetta is #8. Yay for hotness!

Also – if you’re in NYC next week, you should come celebrate the release of $pread’s fourth and most awesome issue yet. On Thursday, January 12th, we’ve got several of our contributors – Tracy Quan, Jo Weldon, Shane Luitjens and yours truly – reading at Bluestockings from 7 to 9 pm. Afterwards, join us at the Slipper Room for one of our raucous fundraisers, which is going to include the Sex Work Olympics… let your mind wander. It’s going to be interesting.

I used the word “awesome” a helluva lot in this post. More posts on the way!

Posted by Dacia at 10:31 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Glamour makes me want to puke

This was originally posted and then devoured by evil bloggy monsters on December 20th. I’m going to try to reattach the comments that were made on the original post. We’ll see. In the meantime, enjoy the rantiness.

I’ve reached a certain point with my “modeling career,” for lack of a better way to put it, where I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself, because as much as I’m a model, I’m an art/porn/whatever critic ten thousand times more. Sure, I like seeing pictures of myself where I look curvy and glowy and pretty and asstastic and booblicious, but at the same time, pretty is kinda boring and lame. I know how to be pretty, I get it. Now let’s fuck some shit up.

Sometimes I look through portfolios of glamour photography or its latex-clad cousin, fetish photography, and I feel like shooting myself. Yeah, I like Helmut Newton too, can we fucking get over it? Who cares about portraying beauty? (Ah, inflammatory statements, how I love thee). Okay, lots of people. But why? It’s an ego thing, isn’t it?

Isn’t there something more interesting than cute pin-up girls, saucy dommes and softly lit models with perfect hair? I find this shit really seductive, true – I mean seduction is what these images are about, after all. But at the same time, I find it all a repulsive snoozefest. I want to fuck up those girls’ hair, smudge their makeup and see what happens. Will they cry? Good, maybe it’ll make for a decent goddamn picture. But the flipside can be dumb too – posey horror fashion fetishy lameness also makes me want to puke. You think you’re scary? I don’t care, I find you boring and trite.

Maybe in some respects this is why I like a lot of the less polished porn, especially stuff shot in the 70s, but also the amateur stylings of Neville Chambers/Rick Savage, Brazilian she-male porn and the like. People in these kinds of films inherently look kinda fucked up, kinda trashy, kinda bad – which I find majorly hot. Ugly is the new hot, goddammit.

The real deal is that this is just empty bitching, because I don’t really know what the alternative looks like (I am, after all, merely a critic). I just wish more people – models and photographers alike, would let go of the obsession with creating something NICE and BEAUTIFUL. There’s nothing in that except portfolio shots – but maybe that’s what most people are in for. Yeah, ok, looking ugly or bog forbid, FAT, is tough to grapple with as a model, but as a viewer, it catches the eye because its different, its tapping into something else.

[And yes, I know that this is seriously ironic because my portfolio is to be updated soon, and it includes plenty of the pretty girl type images I’ve just been bitching about. I am not exempting myself for this whole thing, just expressing a little old fashioned ranty rage.]

Posted by Dacia at 09:44 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack