Techniques of Pleasure

SM is a practice of the self, a form of community and belonging, an impetus to consumption and lifestyle, and an eroticization of social inequality.

   ~ Techniques of Pleasure: BDSM and the Circuits of Sexuality by Margot Weiss

Much as ethnographers go to places like New Guinea to live among and study the natives, putting their customs and rituals under the microscope of science, so has the BDSM community been studied.

Yes, boys and girls, a scientist moved to San Francisco and lived among the leather crowd to study and analyze our behavior.  Now there's a book retelling and analyzing the experience.

The book's author, Margot Weiss, specializes in the ethnography of contemporary sexual cultures and politics as an Assistant Professor of American Studies and Anthropology at Wesleyan University.

Serafina asked me, as I read her the opening paragraphs, if such a study legitimizes what we do.  I replied, "It may very well have that effect."

I wonder at the same time to myself, if it marginalizes our community.  And, in it's own way, the book may do that as well.

You see, there are times when life delivers a platter of delicious contradictions.  BDSM itself has always seemed to me to be a construct of delicious contradiction, built upon the two sided coin of sadomasochism.

But my personal perceptions of BDSM are observations from within.  I've always been attracted to bondage and power exchange, I can't separate who I am from how I perceive.

With that in mind, I picked this book up with great interest.  Here was a look at the community I inhabit by the objective eyes of an individual trained in ethnography.


Do you ever wonder how people outside the BDSM community perceive us?

Even that simple question is more complex than it seems, as the "BDSM community" is not some monolithic construct.  We are a widely varied group of individuals who's interests and sexual practices have been shoehorned into an acronym.  

Even saying that I am an inhabitant of BDSM community is bit problematic.  I fit a large number of the characteristics described to be inherent to the BDSM community as described by Weiss, yet there are a number of significant differences as well.


I've never been to a munch, nor to any of the various social events she attributes to be key aspects of the BDSM community.  I've never been to a "play party" either, unless you count the never ending series of threesomes (and the occasional foursome) with BDSM overtones that occurred in my home during the 1990's to fall under that heading.

And, I also get the feeling that the BDSM community in other regions outside of San Francisco may have evolved rather differently than the community Weiss describes.  So, this study might be best viewed as a serious look at a single distinct BDSM tribe.

As such, it's a very interesting book, fascinating in fact.  I find myself stopping to ponder the points that Weiss makes, to question her conclusions, or, to try and decide what conclusions I might personally reach based upon my own experiences.

I'm close to finished with my first full reading of the text, so I should be posting a more complete review of the book very soon.  I can already recommend that you pick up a copy for yourself, as the book is challenging, but thought provoking.  I do not suggest the hardback version for $71.97, and not even the softcover for $24.95, as Techniques of Pleasure is available on Kindle for just $9.99.

dreaming of mercy in your daddy's arms

dreaming of mercy st.

wear your insides out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again
dreaming of mercy st.
'swear they moved that sign
looking for mercy
in your daddy's arms




looking down on empty streets, all she can see
are the dreams all made solid
are the dreams all made real

all of the buildings, all of the cars
were once just a dream
in somebody's head

she pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam
she pictures a soul
with no leak at the seam

lets take the boat out
wait until darkness
let's take the boat out
wait until darkness comes

nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey
nowhere in the suburbs
in the cold light of day

there in the midst of it so alive and alone
words support like bone

dreaming of mercy st.
wear your inside out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again
dreaming of mercy st.
'swear they moved that sign
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms

pulling out the papers from the drawers that slide smooth
tugging at the darkness, word upon word

confessing all the secret things in the warm velvet box
to the priest;he's the doctor
he can handle the shocks

dreaming of the tenderness, tremble in the hips
of kissing Mary's lips

dreaming of mercy st.
wear your insides out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again
dreaming of mercy st.
'swear they moved that sign
looking for mercy
in your daddy's arms

mercy, mercy, looking for mercy
mercy, mercy, looking for mercy

Sonnet 43

Perhaps the most well known love poem of all time . . . Posted for and dedicated to my Serafina . . . 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

gone but not forgotten

Dear Mom,

It's not easy to know where to begin, to catch you up on what you've missed since you've been gone, so just know you've been missed.

It was a very mild winter here.  I didn't really have to ever shovel snow, not a single time.  Isn't that a hoot!

There were a few cold spells, but none of them strong or long enough to get the Mississippi to freeze.  I really don't remember any other winter being so mild.  I guess that's another place you'll be missed, I know you'd have had a couple years on the tip of your tongue that were just as mild.  Funny how we all remember and pay attention to different things.

Because there was such little freezing on the river, it wasn't a good year to go eagle watching.  We had one good day where we found several eagles on our regular eagle drive, and we did get a few pictures, but it was a slow year I'm sure you'd have found disappointing.

Smokey is still doing relatively well, but as you know he's getting up there in age.  He was born in '97 (I'm sure you'd remember that) so this July 4th he'll be 15.  I guess that will makes him 105 in dog years, quite an accomplishment for a big guy.

We don't take him for walks anymore, he'd stumble and fall coming back from visiting just a few houses down the street, I didn't have the heart to think he might break bones in such a fall, so he just stays in the yard now.

We have all been sick this winter, there's a bug going around that's really hard to shake, something you knew all to well in your lifetime.  Both Serafina and I have had three different courses of antibiotics, we feel better for a spell, but then the crud comes right back.  I guess in that way it's good you aren't here, as this bug would have sent you to the Hospital, and I know you were so very tired of being in beds that weren't your own.

Serafina takes very good care of me, better than you'd ever know, or even imagine.  I know you never really understood the depths of the fierce loyalty she and I feel towards each other, but as I told you near the end of your time here, she is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I mean besides being born.

Things are harder then they used to be, some days feel like such a struggle.  I know I still have terrible dreams remembering what it was like to hold you as you took your final breath, it's not an experience that's easy to shake.  I'm glad I was there to comfort you, but I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be the same.

Hell of a note to end on, but that's all I've got for now . . .

Love,
Michael

(Patrica Samadhi left this earth 8-30-2011, she was survived by her only son Michael.)

Your First Kiss

Photo by Serafina Samadhi

If like myself, you can not remember your first kiss, then it must have been a boring one. . so tell me about the most memorable one!

What is mine you ask?

The first time Master had me come to visit I flew out from O'hare Airport in Chicago, Illinois to return to my Canadian home.  I was about to go into the passengers only area feeling sad to leave when Master scooped me into his bearish embraced and kissed me so gallantly that the entire airport stood still and watched.  The kiss lasted what seemed forever because time stood still at that moment.

Romance at it's best!!

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

  ~ Rudyard Kipling

lazy Saturday afternoon - sex party Saturday night

previously on The Upper Floor

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon here at Samadhi House.  So lazy in fact that the Master of the House, along with his precious slave, are off to nap.

There's a live show tonight on The Upper Floor (TUF) that Serafina and I plan to watch.  We'll be joining the festivities from the comfort of our own play room, where I've got a very simple plan for the evening.

I'm going to put Serafina into a sweet little spandex sleep sack for the duration of the show, perhaps using the 2-way zipper from time to time to access the bits and nubs I like to pinch, squeeze, and rub. The sleep sack has an open face, so she will be able to watch the show, but she can't move her arms inside the sack, they get snugly encase in their own internal sleeves that are quite inescapable.

It all adds up to some rather delicious torment that builds subtly over time until my slave/wife ends up a quivering mass of flesh and desire.  Who knows what order of torment she'll have to beg for just to get me to consider releasing her . . .

This post is her notice, so if she's a good girl and is following her Master's post, she'll be mentally prepared for tonight's ordeal.   Since TUF is live from San Francisco, there's a 2 hour time difference.  Meaning, their 7 pm start time is 9 pm here.