Look Back — Then Move Forward With Confidence and Love

Sadly, the second decade of the new millennium is hurtling toward us like a mindless juggernaut embraced with barely a backward glance in the rear-view mirror.

I believe historians will find that the fading decade was one of the most important in modern U.S. history. It began with Americans worried about a Y2K-meltdown but believing they lived in the most powerful nation on the planet; a beacon of democracy; a prosperous country at peace. It ended with fear over continued terrorism occurring at home and abroad, two on-going wars without ends in sight, and a continuing financial meltdown of epic proportions that left millions out of work and foreclosure signs all-too common.

The horrific attacks on 9-11 took more than lives: It destroyed America’s sense of invincibility, left it reeling, diminished and suddenly unsure of what our time-honored democracy truly means. Our independent, upstart nation was forced to come of age, losing its innocence in the smoking terrorist rubble.

It is a Brave New World in which we abruptly realized that we are part of the rest of the world and not separate from it. The aftermath profoundly changed the American landscape. Sadly, we also lost a bit of our shining armor of integrity along the way. Ethnic and religious intolerance rose steadily against those from the Middle East, especially those who follow Islam, and caused some to turn a blind eye — or even condone — torture, rationalizing away the Bill of Rights. It is in the worst of times that we need our civil liberties, the underpinnings of freedom, and due process to preserve those rights the most!

In the midst of all of that, we were also forced to grapple with the continuing death of the industrial age and the systemic changes in this post-modern era. The new age is driven by technology and information services, no longer by a production-based commerce. A prime example is the collapse of the Sacred Automobile industry. More than merely a victim of the economic crisis, Detroit’s Motor City crashed because the basis of our country’s economy has permanently changed. We need to move quickly and courageously into this new reality, not hold on with white-knuckled-intensity to the steering wheel of America’s past.

Any financial, business or industry that fails to understand this, or is unable to shift into the new paradigm may not survive to ring in another New Year. This means that financial institutions need more than a reality check, they need to understand that the rules of the game have fundamentally, irrevocably changed.

Even the vaunted Fourth Estate, the media, is on the knife’s cutting edge of disaster. The news and publishing industries have underestimated the impact of Internet blogging, in which news is truly immediate, rather than relegated to a daily news cycle. Bankruptcy has now become their banner rather than headlines. Even the staid nighttime broadcast news can be bested by anyone with a cell-phone video camera who uploads snippets to YouTube that can be viewed worldwide. Missing in these scenarios, of course, is that anyone can blog, whether or not they have journalistic training or even a modicum of ethics. Thus, there is no oversight for factual accuracy, but that hasn’t stopped the proliferation of this new medium.

Health care continues to take center stage as the country is ripped apart by rising medical costs and colliding opinions about what to do about it.

When I look ahead, I try to remember what has gone on before. To resolve to make better choices, to regain my sense of being a human being.

In a world of uncertainties, I think that we need to reconnect to, and with, each other, not disconnect even more by hiding inside our homes logged onto the Internet or plugged into iTunes.

Americans need to take back their swagger. That true sense of being an American, based on what our beloved country was founded upon. No other country on the planet began as an experiment in religious and civil freedom, writing a Constitution espousing those beliefs. Tolereance, forebearance, and just actions by government.

The swagger was not created by flexing muscles to intimidate others, including countries, to bend to our will. The swagger was real because we believed our country really did stand for democracy and justice, regardless of the mistakes that government has made in its history when it failed to adhere to those values.

Feel proud, secure, and confident again. Be an American: Embrace diversity in all its rainbow-richness, and look ahead with excitement, not dread.

Before 2010 is all too real, take a moment to reflect on real human interactions — relationships in all their gory glory! A relationship to some form of spirituality should also be considered. It doesn’t matter what faith you adhere to or which ones you reject, it only matters that you take very good care of your one and only soul.

I am an avid practitioner of Sacred Sex, or tantra. In most ancient spiritual cultures and mystery schools, its role was understood as vital to spiritual awakening. Today, numerous spiritual traditions still practice Sacred Sex. In the hieroglyphics of the Luxor Temple in Egypt you can still find symbolic depiction of sexual initiation into the truest realm of humanity. Mayan elders speak of sexuality as the force that keeps planets in orbit and connects us to the universe.

The following illustrates the principles really well. Written by Amorah, founder of the Dolphin Star Temple Mystery School, I have selected a sampling:

“Without male and female equality, love, adoration for one another, trust, respect, and shared innocence, full communion with Oneness is impossible as are peace, freedom, and joy. The lust-seduction control games; sexual attitudes of distrust, shame, lovelessness, and separation; as well as lack of spiritual presence during intercourse are literally destroying your soul's ability to experience wholeness and health in the third dimension...

“If you are on a spiritual path, meditating regularly, clearing your emotions, healing your past lives, and seeing the finest of healers, you will still only be able to attain to an unsatisfactory level of spiritual awareness and wholeness if your sexual energy is not moving freely, fully, and lovingly through your body and soul. You need not have a partner in order to experience this, but your gendered relationships, both internal and external, must be balanced and healthy...

“What you call sexual energy, or sexual expression, is the stuff of which existence is both made and sustained. When a couple in love experiences total surrender one to the other during a heightened sexual experience, they become blended into a single consciousness containing equal parts male and female. The original experience of Oneness, or God, awakening to its own existence, and responding, was , ‘I am,’ meaning, ‘I exist.’...So is the sacred function of your sexuality intended to bring about the same ecstasy and experience of Oneness as the original awakening of existence...

“Trust and respect have been so long lost that you spend more time testing one another, making each other prove yourselves, finding reasons to doubt each other, and vying for control than you do creating and enjoying your love relationships. And these things you call love relationships are often little more than addictive pain patterns being acted out...

“Love does not need to possess, control, degrade, withhold, prove anything, distrust, or conquer. Love simply loves. It flows. It is uninhibited, uncontrived, natural, innocent, and spontaneous. And while discernment is needed in the selection of a partner, it need not prohibit you from loving everyone. Did you know that humans are terrified of feeling the totality of unconditional love? You have been taught to restrain yourselves lest you make a fool of yourselves. You have been taught that it is impossible to love fully without hurting if the other person does not return your love and promise to stay forever. Without 100 percent guarantee that you will not ‘lose,’ you hold back a little or a lot. It does not really matter how much. The point is that the flow has been dammed and therefore controlled...

“What if love were only possible by forfeiting all guarantees? What if love could only exist in the presence of surrender? What if there were no such thing as loss, only change? What if you had to let go before the other person did without knowing whether he or she will ever let go or not? You would risk disappointment; but that is all. If you have healthy self-esteem and self-love the person you love cannot devastate or humiliate you. He or she cannot make you feel unworthy; only you can! The object of love is not to win someone over, break through their barriers, make them need or desire you, or make sure you don't lose. The object of love is to love, to cherish, to honor, to adore, to respect, to never harm, to appreciate and never depreciate another...

“This is the nature of your true being, your soul, your spirit. To experience love for no apparent reason and for no ulterior motive is a great sign...To fill your life with friends and/or a partner who naturally inspire you to love is a wonderful thing. To surround yourself with sacred objects of beauty, to live in a place you enjoy, to be in nature regularly, to do what you really like to do are all important ingredients in life that can help you become a more loving person...

“The essential nature of the unrestrained soul is tantra. This leads to being in a constant orgasmic state in your whole body. In this state, energy blocks are dissolved, emotions released to flow naturally, and spiritual experience of love and Oneness are the norm. And it is what you and Earth most need at this time ...As always, our intention is to make your process of awakening as loving, effective, and gracious as possible while facilitating a deepening within yourself with yourself, others, and Oneness. ...Ecstatic tantric love returns you to Divine Flow and enlightenment.

Dolphin Star Temple Mystery School is a modern interpretation of the ancient Egyptian Mystery School. She is author of The Pleiadian Workbook: Awakening Your Divine Ka; The Pleiadian Tantric Workbook: Awakening Your Divine Ba; and Pleiadian Perspectives on Human Evolution.

Giving loving kindness to yourself, friends, family or a significant other is the best way I know to ring in the New Year, or for that matter, any brand new day! Have a very Healthy, Bright and Happy New Year!

—The Curator

Krazy Glue Used in Sexual Revenge Plot

The latest real-life example of the old adage “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” occurred in Wisconsin when a man found cheating had his penis Krazy Glued to his stomach in a criminal case of sexual revenge.

Last week, two Wisconsin sisters pleaded no contest to reduced charges in plea agreement that is expected to allow them to avoid jail time.

The sisters, Therese Ziemann, 48, of Menasha, and Michelle Belliveau, 43, of Neenah, were accused along with two other women of gluing the penis of Donessa T. Davis, 37, to his stomach in an incident that occurred in Calumet County in July.

Davis, 37, alleged Ziemann tied him to a bed at a Stockbridge motel room July 30 when he went there for a sexual rendezvous. He says he was then set upon by Ziemann and Belliveau, as well as his wife Tracy Hood-Davis, 30, of Fond du Lac, and yet another girlfriend, Wendy Sewell, 44, of Kaukauna.

Prosecutors said the women got together without Davis' knowledge to plot an appropriate punishment for him after learning he had been cheating on his wife, Ziemann and Sewell. Each of the three women had believed they were his only paramour. Belliveau just went along to show support for her sister, prosecutors said.

The acknowledged cheating husband was lured to the motel, located in a small town about 30 miles from Green Bay, by his girlfriend – Ziemann, his mistress for the past three months. Thinking he was going to enact a bondage fantasy with the woman, he allowed her to tie him to the bed.

After Davis was trussed up with the promise of a “sensual massage,” Ziemann then called for her sister, Belliveau; Davis’ second lover, Sewell, and his estranged wife Hood-Davis.

The four allegedly refused to release him, threatened him with mace, punched him in the face, and then applied the coup de grace, the ultimate insult: Using Krazy Glue to affix his manhood to his stomach.

Prosecutors said it was Ziemann who performed the actual gluing.

Ziemann pleaded no contest in Chilton to disorderly conduct and misdemeanor battery, while Belliveau pleaded no contest to disorderly conduct. They are scheduled to be sentenced Feb. 2, 2010.

District attorney Ken Kratz agreed not to seek jail time for either one.

An attorney for Ziemann said she is being treated for "an emotional disorder."

Sewell pleaded not guilty last month to a false imprisonment charge. Her case remains pending.

A false-imprisonment charge against Tracy Hood-Davis was dropped earlier. However, Kratz said that new criminal charges will be filed against her. Kratz did not say what those charges would be, only that they will be filed “soon.” But court documents show that she may have coached her husband to testify in her favor. Kratz would also not say whether Donessa T. Davis will also face potential perjury charges.

Let me be clear: There is never a time when infidelity justifies violence against the cheater, provided no minors are involved and there is no forced victimization or rape.

However, infidelity causes very real pain to the victims, and serial cheaters need psychological help. Just look at the Tiger Woods case if you doubt the impact of infidelity on everyone involved. Faithfulness is the least a partner should expect after giving intimacy and trust to a paramour. The abuse of that trust is devastating, whether it happens within a marriage or to unmarried partners, regardless of sexual orientation. If you do not want to be faithful, don’t commit. If you cannot be faithful, get help. Period.




— The Curator

Egypt + Sex Education — Really NOT!

There is a fascinating and important opinion/editorial appearing at Bikya Masr that describes sex education – or the lack of it – in today's Egypt.

The author, Baher Ibrahim, notes that even doctor’s do not have correct or adequate sex education, nor do many men and women understand the correct usage of condoms.

Masturbation is absolutely verboten, and women, who are expected to remain virginal until marriage, are not supposed to have any specific knowledge about self-pleasure.

Ibrahim urges the country to confront its sexual conservatism, and advances a compelling argument that it must provide real, contemporary sex education.

The editorial appears in its entirety below, or read it directly at Bikya Masr.

By Baher Ibrahim
27 December 2009
in Health

“It may sound striking that in the 21st century; there are highly educated people, even doctors, who have highly inaccurate information about reproductive health. But in Egypt, that is the reality.

Starting from school pupils and reaching all the way to medical faculties, there is an astonishing lack of basic information on sex and reproductive diseases. Misconceptions and old wives’ tales are reinforced in young peoples’ minds by the insistence of medical professors on ignoring such basic information.

Egyptian society is by nature a conservative one, making sex a taboo subject. Thus, it has become absolutely normal and expected that an entire body system be practically ignored in science curricula all over the country. Everyone in Egypt has memories of the bizarre class on the reproductive system. What usually happens is that the teacher maintains a stern face and monotonous voice to deter students from making lousy jokes. If it’s a co-ed school, there is no place for a constructive detailed discussion. Likewise, if a male teacher is standing before a girl only class or vice versa, the lesson is finished off at lightning speed. Girls would be unwilling and embarrassed to listen to a man explain the anatomy of the female genitalia, and boys will almost certainly make an inappropriate comment that will deter their teacher.

In today’s age, sex is aggressively marketed through advertising, movies and music videos. With widespread Internet access, pornography is instantly available at the click of a mouse. That there is no kind of proper sex ed in our schools is preposterous. Fast forward to high school, and the situation is not any different. The reproductive process is explained in terms of spermatogenesis and fertilization, leaving numerous girls wondering (and this is not an exaggeration) how the spermatozoa happened to reach the ovum. In addition, it prompts teenage boys, who will stop at nothing to find out about sex, to get their information from their friends, who are just as misinformed as them, or from pornographic movies.

The only time when sex is formally discussed in school is in a religious context, where the (inexperienced) religious studies teacher offers the students more misinformation as fact. Examples of these are 'masturbation is strictly forbidden in religion, and the punishment of he who masturbates is equal to that of he who engages in sexual relations with his mother.' Another popular one is that 'one mustn’t masturbate because God has given each man a store of semen that will finish if you abuse it.'

These claims are laughable to many, but are widely accepted as fact, as well as the infamous 'masturbation ruins your eyesight.' Fast forward once again to university, and the unwillingness to discuss sex in even a medical context is absurd.

Khalid, a dentistry student at Alexandria University, recalls one of his experiences. He says 'It was in our first year during a Zoology lecture. The professor (a woman) happened to mention the word ‘vagina’. A colleague of mine, who’s English was very poor, asked the professor after the lecture about the meaning of ‘vagina’. Suddenly the professor started stuttering and launched into a prolonged English-Arabic explanation interspersed with medical terminology. While he was looking at her with blank eyes, I whispered in his ear the Arabic slang (and offensive) word for ‘vagina.’'

The country’s medical students, and future doctors, fare no better. Many still believe the common “masturbation ruins your eyesight” myth, while others believe it causes infertility. A medical student at Alexandria University laughs as he tells about one of his funnier experiences. “It was during our second year, and we were attending a psychology lecture where the topic of discussion was IQ. A student passed over a folded paper to the doctor with a question on it. (Note: this is how questions are commonly asked due to the massive number of students in the auditoriums) The question was ‘Excuse me doctor, but does masturbation affect your IQ?’ Many students burst out laughing but most of the girls seemed not to understand since they didn’t get the English term. The doctor was very professional, explaining that there was no harm at all in the act, unless it became an obsession or compulsive behavior. He also mentioned statistics that 99.9% of males and 70 percent of females masturbate.'

Naturally, the latter part of the statistic did not sit well with many. The student goes on to say 'My male friends were astonished that he mentioned such a statistic so openly in front of girls, and most believed it to be a lie. Some went on to say that only a whore would do such a thing and one also wondered if by doing so, a girl could lose her virginity. A few were also astonished at the prospect that girls even thought about sex.'

The student I spoke to is now in his fifth (second last) year. He says 'Even now, it is more of the same. We had a lecture on male infertility, and obviously, a semen sample is needed to know if a man is infertile. The professor found it too embarrassing to say that the sample is usually obtained by masturbation, despite the term being mentioned without definition in the book. He opted to say that ‘a sample is best obtained in the lab’. I don’t know what’s so embarrassing about it. I am sure many of the girls, especially the ones from rural backgrounds, didn’t understand.'

Nor are they expected to understand. Despite attempts at change, Egypt is still a largely patriarchal, male dominated society where 'respectable' girls are expected to guard their virginity and know little to nothing about sex, until they are married.

This student also says 'I was stunned when during a lecture on HIV/AIDS, the professor made very little emphasis on prevention of sexual transmission, besides mentioning the term ‘condom’ once in English. Then he made a claim I have never heard of that in 15-20 percent of proper, regular condom usage, HIV can still cross an intact condom. I’ve never heard of such a thing.'

Indeed, a fact sheet on male condom use, available on the UNAIDS website, says that after conducting studies, it has emerged that 'with regular sexual intercourse over a period of two years, partners who consistently used condoms had a near zero risk of HIV.'

Add to this the reality that most med students, even when they graduate, do not even know what a condom looks like. This is an outrageous lack of basic sex ed, especially for medical students, and steps must be taken to change it.

Ironically, in a country where extramarital sex is a big no-no, very few women know how to self induce a medical abortion or use the morning after pill to prevent pregnancy.

Most girls do not even know what their external genitalia look like, nor do they have the curiosity to know. This is part of the cultural norm that girls must guard their modesty and virginity before marriage.

For all the above stated reasons, definite steps must be taken to integrate proper sex education in school and university curricula, to be taught by certified specialists, so that we may pull our students, future doctors and the general population out of the dark.”

This editorial perfectly underscores many of the challenges that conservative countries face in our modern, technological society. Every country must determine its own mores, but when its citizens have access to broader experiences via the Internet, then sex education is even more imperative. It is also quite shocking to me that many of its doctor's do not possess this vital information, either.

It is not for me to judge the behavior of a society or government when it comes to sex, but ensuring the safety of all is everyone's responsibility.

I believe that every person must be given the tools to protect themselves from contracting AIDS and other STD's, and to have the most basic knowledge about their own bodies. That is not a religious/ideology issue, but rather a human issue. 

I would argue that women should be considered sexual equals in any society. Even in the U.S., which is a much less conservative country, that is still not the case, but is thankfully coming closer to becoming a reality.


— The Curator

Pregnant Soldiers Face Disciplinary Action

The U.S. Army commander in northern Iraq yesterday backed off his threat to court-martial soldiers who get pregnant, and men who impregnate them — now, they'll probably get sent home with a nasty letter.

"I see absolutely no circumstance where I would punish a female (or male) soldier by court-martial for a violation," said Maj. Gen. Anthony Cucolo. "I fully intend to handle these cases through lesser disciplinary action," including reprimand letters, Cucolo said.

Cucolo, 51, drew the wrath of the National Organization for Women with an order last month implying that sexual relations in the ranks leading to pregnancy could result in a court-martial and possible jail time, even for married troops!

"I have never considered court-martial for this, I do not ever see myself putting a soldier in jail for this," Cucolo said yesterday.

Despite Cucolo’s assertions yesterday, the fact remains that he HAS the authority under the order he issued to do just that!

A female veteran, who asked not to be identified, told a newspaper that her own deployment to Iraq in another general's command ended early after she became pregnant by her boyfriend.

The woman said she was not disciplined. "If I was punished, I would have been humiliated," the woman said. "I was already humiliated by the people that had to know."

Cucolo is believed to be the first to make the pregnancy an offence that could be dealt with by court-martial – for both the woman AND THE man. The ruling applies only to troops under his command and not to women who are raped.

His apparent abrupt reversal yesterday made worldwide news. Cucolo attempted to clarify that the order was intended to emphasize the problems created when pregnant soldiers automatically went home, leaving behind a weaker unit, because of being left short-staffed.

"I need every soldier I've got. I need them for the entire duration of this deployment."

Cucolo commands a task force of 22,000 soldiers, including 1682 females, which oversees northern Iraq including cities such as Tikrit, Kirkuk and Mosul.

"If you are a pregnant female in a combat zone, you are redeployed, period," he said. "That is not my call, that is just what we do."

"I have to accomplish a very complex mission. I'm going to do what it takes to maintain our strength," he said.

Genevieve Chase, the founder of American Women Veterans, an organization to help female veterans, said the issue was difficult, "because pregnancy does impede readiness."

"Enforcing the rule of this is what's going to be difficult," she said.

There was already a heavy stigma on women who became pregnant in the battlefield, believe some got pregnant to obtain a get-out-of-war free card.

"Every time a female gets pregnant there's that automatic assumption, that you're trying to get out of the deployment."

Even though it now appears that the soldiers will not face a general court, there are several reprimand options that military command now has at its disposal and for some, it will be permanently entered into their service records.

Seven soldiers have been reprimanded under the new ban. The four female soldiers who became pregnant were given letters of reprimand that will not remain in their permanent military file, as were two of the male soldiers. A third soldier who is married received a permanent letter of reprimand for impregnating a subordinate who is not his wife and for fraternization. The four female soldiers were all reassigned outside of Iraq and the three men remained.

There were also four other female soldiers who were sent home without punishment, after finding out they were pregnant shortly after arriving in Iraq.

Cucolo, Commander of the Multi-National Division-North in Iraq, generated standing orders for all soldier’s under his command; General Order No. 1, bans female soldiers from getting pregnant. But the order doesn’t just hold women accountable, male soldiers fall under the same guidance and responsibility.

“I can’t tell you how valuable my female soldiers are,” Cucolo said. “They fly helicopters. They run satellites. They’re mechanics. They’re medics. Some of the best intelligence analysts I have happen to be female. You start losing them when you’re facing a drawdown, and you really hurt the unit.”

Cucolo said the policy falls under the Command’s General Order No. 1, and that he said he was prompted to issue it by his experience as Division Commander with the 3rd Infantry Division at Fort Stewart/Hunter Army Airfield, Ga., along with his intense desire to maintain fighting strength any way possible for a very tough and complex mission.

He said the purpose of this rule is to cause soldiers to pause and think about the decisions they make and how a personal decision has major consequences, like leaving their teammates shorthanded in combat, not the consequence of punishment. Cucolo stressed that he can handle violations with lesser degrees of punishment, and has not considered court-martial.

The U.S. Navy is reviewing its own policies regarding pregnancies by women in its Nuclear Submarine service, which routinely head out on extended sorties, often lasting 70 plus days at sea, without ever going into port. Since September, the U.S. Navy has been reviewing the possibility of women serving on submarines.

“I believe women should have every opportunity to serve at sea, and that includes aboard submarines,” Navy Secretary Ray Mabus said in a statement to Navy Times.

His comment comes one week after Joint Chiefs Chairman Adm. Mike Mullen told congressional lawmakers that he thought it was time to end the ban against women on submarines.

Should a woman hide her pregnancy and be aboard a ballistic missile submarine, it could raise significant operational challenges; including a significant change to operations and procedures, including a new requirement to surface should medical complications arise.

Being forced back to port or rendezvousing with a surface ship will be a topic of heated policy debate both within the Pentagon and on the Hill. A possible solution maybe requiring women officers and sailors to take pregnancy tests prior embarking.

According to the Navy Times, as of May the Navy had 7,900 female officers and 44,000 female sailors, comprising about 15 percent of officers and sailors in the 330,500-strong active component.

I can certainly understand that in times of war, every military unit must count on all of its member-soldiers to do their jobs, and to be there when needed. It is, however, unfathomable to me that Cucolo considered court-martialing pregnant soldiers and their male sexual partners – especially married-couple soldiers! A reprimand seems appropriate, but I don’t think such a thing should even be considered to be attached to the soldier’s permanent record.



— The Curator

Dancing With Mister Wolf

"It’s Lupus," the diagnosis hung in the air between us. The doctor laid her hand gently on my shoulder. "It’s pretty bad, we need to start treatment immediately."

It was no surprise. We had anticipated the test results. Nonetheless, I felt sudden tears well up and turned quickly away. The doctor immediately withdrew her hand.

That ridiculous scene played out 10 years ago could easily have come from a horribly written made-for-TV tear-jerker. Instead, it was a real-life moment starring, you guessed it – ME.

Good grief, I don’t even get royalty checks for my repeat performances, but then again, perhaps they should be paid directly to my disease, whom I refer to as "Mr. Wolf." (I refer to Lupus as a him, because since I’ve been afflicted, the disease has felt like a living-breathing entity that is distinctly male. I have also given him an honorific out of respect, because he has mad skills.)

I also ‘discovered’ (not a good choice of words at all, as it brings to mind Galileo and his ilk, none of which is remotely associated with my life) that I could NOT afford my medications, or barely pay my mortgage. I ended up getting governmental assistance for the indigent. INDIGENT for God’s sake! I had worked full-time since I was 17-years-old, but now that I’m 53 I need handouts! (Frankly, there is a certain synergy in becoming a drooling bag lady in less time than most people complete an exercise program.)

Prior to my diagnosis, I had been a pole dancer in Vegas. Ok, not. I was actually a gangster’s moll on the Upper East Side of Chicago. Ok, really not. But, it doesn’t matter, because whatever I did, I won’t do ever again. In fact, the doctors urged me early on to get my legal matters in order – just in case.

I generally have really vivid dreams, mostly in color. This one was no different: I was looking out over a beautiful spring meadow, replete with the requisite wildflowers in bloom. I was enjoying the gentle breeze and fragrances when I saw it: A small area of blackness in the very center of this idyllic scene.

I stared at it. It was just black; black with a capital “B.” I mean ALL black, not shiny-shoe-black or sparkly-black or even night-black, or shoe-black, but so-black-it’s-almost-blue-black, no-light-at-all-black. Now, that’s b-l-a-c-k black! I’m a huge SciFi fan, so I thought it was my subconscious entertaining me with the sudden appearance of a black hole where none should be. With a start, I realized that wasn’t it at all, because this black seemed...well...this ‘black’ seemed alive. And, it was growing!

Up until now, I have never suffered from hallucinations (I mean, I talk to my cat and he does talk back, but don’t ALL cats?) So, I stared even harder at the black, uh, blob, somehow managing to stay asleep. Even as I watched, it continued to spread out, now blotting out regions of my glorious meadow, God damn it! I woke up. My heart was pounding into my throat, and I was sweating. Ick, ick, ick! What a nightmare! But, why was it a nightmare? Why was I so scared? What the hell did it mean?

I’ve always been fascinated by dreams, and think good ’ole Jung was onto something when he coined the notion of a collective unconscious. I got up, made coffee, and tried to envision my vision in the light of true day. I couldn’t. In fact, the more I tried to see it, the more anxious I felt. If only I could go to work, that would keep my mind off of it. Work — FUCK IT!

I drank down a huge gulp of the scalding beverage, the burning liquid somehow calming me down. Jesus, is this how cutters feel? Is this what I’ve become? I washed the rest of the coffee down the drain, ran to the bathroom and threw up what little guts I had left.

I went into the living room and sat in a heap, dabbing my mouth with a damp cloth. Ooze. I sat bolt upright, as my fevered mind repeated the word over and over. Ooze, ooze, ooze. That’s what it was: black, oily, ooze, and it was overtaking every aspect of my life!

“Fine, come on, buddy. I don’t give a flying F-U-C-K. Have done with it, my friend,” I said out loud to Mr. Ooze, whom I was certain was a very, very close if-not-intimate friend of Mr. Wolf. And, I meant it. For time outside of time, I remained in that chair. I didn’t eat, laugh, pray, or have sex. I sat, stared at mindless TV and marked the days, weeks, months and years melt off the calendar.

Had I an ounce of courage, I would have swallowed the sleeping pills that I had assiduously stockpilled and run directly into the no-think suffocation promised by Mr. Ooze. I didn’t. Instead, I took the path of least resistence: I existed in a ethereal region of non-space, where up was down and nothing, absolutely nothing, made any sense. My purpose was gone, and Mr. Wolf was taking greedy, ugly bites out of my body. The pain was uncontrolled, ravaging what Mr. Ooze had not already stolen of my mind and soul. I could actually feel my life force ebbing away.

In truth, since he had come on stage, I have too often yielded top billing to Mr. Wolf, having apparently decided to accept a consistently shrinking co-starring role in my very own life.

God damn it, enough!! Get up, wake up, you idiot! Get...out...of...the...chair. Stand up on wobbly legs, but STAND UP! I will humble myself and shackle myself and torture myself NO LONGER. Nor will I fight, I will simply resume what is left of my life without spending what little physical and physic energy I have on him ever again.

He will be so offended to be suddenly and completely ignored. He will growl and prowl, snap and gnash his teeth – but, so what? So what? What is the worse that he can do? Kill me? Wreck my life? I’ve already destroyed my own life, he hardly even had to bloody his claws, because I did the mayhem for him! I was the one who tore my life asunder, while Mr. Wolf merely happily feasted on my bloody remains.

Very well played thus far, Mr. Wolf, but heed my warning: I am mounting my own comeback performance. You’ve have had way too many encores already, sir! Time for this understudy to take up the costume and replace you. Deep inside, there had been a shard of me that had survived; a sliver of divinity left by creation herself. I felt her, cleverly hiding from the Misters Wolf and Ooze, a tiny speck of brilliant light.

Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (pronounced: er-uh-thee-muh-toe-sus), also called SLE, was my formal diagnosis (For more information go to the Lupus Foundation of America.)

A 19th century French doctor gave the disease its name because he thought the common facial rash most of us develop looked like the bite marks or scratches from a wolf (FYI: "Lupus" is the Latin word for wolf, while "erythematosus" is the Latin word for red).

SLE is an autoimmune disease. As such, it is characterized by a malfunction of the immune system. In these types of diseases, the immune system cannot distinguish between the body’s own cells and tissues and that of ‘foreign’ matter. So, rather than simply producing antibodies to attack invading viruses, bacteria or other similar foreign substances, my immune system creates auto-antibodies that attack my body’s own cells and/or tissues (Talk about self-inflicted wounds!)

SLE is the most serious form of Lupus – natch. It not only effects my skin (face, hands and legs,) but is systematically destroying my synovial joints, including the tendons in my hands, arms and legs, even the lining of my abdomen has been adversely affected.

I also have occasional swelling of my brain stem, which interrupts my cognition and memory (Have I already said that?) It has also attacks my serous (moisture-forming) membranes found in the lymph nodes. My illness has also been punctuated by acute episodes or "flare-ups" or "flares" of horrible sickness, and ever-briefer periods of stability. Even sunlight worsens it, for God's sake!

Despite that laundry list of genuine crap, I’m actually quite lucky, because it can also attack the heart, lungs, and/or kidneys. Actually, it can attack ANY organ or bodily structure, including the central nervous system. If that were to happen, and it still might, I’d be outta here pretty damn quick. Thus, Mr. Wolf had been kept at bay – albeit barely.

Treatment includes pain relief efforts, control of inflammation as much as possible, and trying to limit damage to my vital organs. Stress also makes it worse, so it's oh-so-important to relax (RIIIIIGHT!)

Which brings me to sex. I really like sex – a lot. But, I haven’t always. In fact, this is the first time in my life I’ve ever been at peace with – and thoroughly relishing in – my true and honest sexuality. You probably think this topic wouldn’t be connected to Mr. Wolf, but it is. Actually, it’s one of the most important aspects of coping with him.

I’ve never, ever, written about sex in a personal way before, except on Twitter. Ironically, the constraints of Twitter’s 140 character limit frees my soul to be honest and discuss this fascinating, vital, and oh-so-human of subjects.

Anyone struggling with a serious disease or disability soon discovers that there’s very little that the doctors actually prepare you for in this new world of illness. So, the vast changes that are certain to befall your life are unexpected and really shocking. Sex falls into this category, for me. When I was introduced to Mr. Wolf, my body became THE enemy overnight. I didn’t know her anymore.

At first, I often found myself looking deeply into the mirror: Who was this stranger that had taken over my body? And, even more importantly, how could I ever learn to live with her?

In addition, I had no desire for sex – I didn’t even want to be touched at all! Instead, I began to believe that I had no body, that I was no longer a woman, or even a human being, but simply a lump of flesh that temporarily housed my brain until my ever-approaching death.

There was nothing left of the person who I once was. Nothing, absolutely nothing, remained. Or so I thought. I was wrong. Very wrong. A tiny, itty-bitty, luminous speck of something was still there.

Was it my soul? I still don’t know. But, I have come to believe it was the divine spark of creation housed within all beings; that indescribable “something” that connects us all to each other regardless of race, gender, age, sexual orientation, creed, religion or geography. Whatever it was, I felt it. Visceral. Real. I had not felt anything for so long, that it overcame me and I began to weep.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that instead of fighting with/or hiding from Mr. Wolf, I should try to initiate a truce. Peaceful co-existence. But, just how could I go about that? The answer was beyond obvious: Reclaim my body, make her a part of me again. Integration in a literal sense. I would try to be kind, nurturing, draw her back – woo her as would a gentle lover. A long, heart-felt embrace might work. The ultimate seduction: The Self.

Suddenly, abruptly even, she was no longer the enemy, nor was she a victim. She was simply, me. As I worked through it, I realized that my sexuality was the key, perhaps the key to everything. I needed to feel arousal again, not even to feel sexy yet, but to just feel a nano flash of sexual interest – a little zing!

Wouldn’t it be wild if I could truly embrace Mr. Wolf? What if I found out that he is actually my one true Spirit Guide. The Spirit Force who will remain with me through the remainder of my life, to help and sustain me – to infuse my life with his knowledge, cunning, strength and courage?

To be honest, I had no idea how to do that. So, I did what I always do when I have a problem, I researched. In doing that, I ran across articles that mentioned erotica, then I ran across erotica! Whoa. I’m divorced, middleaged, and certainly not a prude, but I could still be shocked. To be honest, it wasn’t long before that shock traveled from by brain to...uh...nether regions. Eureka!

There was no way I could approach a partner with so little to offer, and with no confidence at all. What to do, what to do? I hadn’t masturbated since I was a teenager. Frankly, I wasn’t even very good at it back then. I didn’t feel guilty, I think it was a lack of creativity. I couldn’t stay focused. I didn’t even remember how many times I’d tried it, but I knew it was a million lifetimes ago.

Even though I felt shy and embarrassed at those ancient, sepia-tone memories, I knew I needed to try it again. As usual, I didn’t know how best to go about it, so I researched. I was soon rewarded, and learned the latest sure-fire, sex-positive techniques. Well, after all of that research, I was SO VERY stoked to stroke, so to speak!

Then, disaster, complete and utter devastation! My disability prevented the movement required to even be remotely successful. Good grief, I was mortified! I loathed Mr. Wolf more at that moment than I had ever since the bastard had overrun my life.

What to do, what to do? I researched. Do you know what I learned? There are NO aids to help people with disabilities have sex, or even to make it more comfortable. None, nada, no way, no how, none at all — zip, zero. Get the utterly non-orgasmic picture?

There are bazillions (at least it seemed like bazillions if not kazillions) of so-called marital aids or sex toys, which are just the politically correct ways of referring to dildos, vibrators, nipple clamps, intimate lubricants, cock-rings, whips, paddles, leather corsets and the like. But, nothing for the disabled. Apparently, even the sex industry views us as useless, totally sexless creatures!

No longer was I shy and embarrassed, now I was flat-out-FUCKING furious! My fury was so great that it overcame my puritan upbringing, and I actually emailed inquiries to several sex toy companies. I was right; nothing to help me or my “kind,” I was told.

Okay then, I’d simply have to...improvise.

That was several years ago. After fits and starts I was eventually able to touch what I needed to touch. Success was achieved only after crafting my own device, which basically behaves as a curved extension of my own hand and fingers. There were, however, several prototypical failures before I developed the eventual winner. Whew, what a process!

I must admit that as a result of my endeavors I was forced, so to speak, to specifically learn what my body truly needs. Shockingly, I hadn’t known that before either, despite having been a sexually active adult. Previously, I had only known in detail what my partner needed from me to achieve sexual fulfillment.

Ultimately, my understanding of the importance of enfolding my body with love and tenderness led to an ability to do the same with a partner. I am once again, a fully-functioning woman. But, this woman is the not the same woman. No, this new version embraces her sexuality, every aspect, every dot and iota of the experience. I’ve even devotedly studied tantric sexual meditations, which have enriched my entire life.

Mr. Wolf is not present in my bedroom any more. The ability to bar him from any area of my life was such a huge victory that it is almost indescribable. Over time, that victory has led to many others, large and small. Now, he is no longer the star he once was, but has instead been relegated to a mere annoying bit player in my life.

Make no mistake, it was that first victory – regaining my own sexuality – that was the turning point in achieving my mental and physical stability. I will always have lupus, but lupus no longer has me.

It’s not easy, emotionally or physically, to have a satisfying sex life when you’re disabled, suffering from an acute disease, or illness. I am convinced, however, that it is impossible to thrive without one. Sex doesn’t just promote overall health, it is its very breath.

— The Curator

Faces 2009: Belle de Jour — Absolutely!

It’s been one incredible year for celebrated erotic author Belle de Jour, and now she’s been named one of 2009 Faces by the UK’s Guardian.

For those of you who are unfamiliar Belle de Jour, that had been the nom de plume of British author, and award-winning blogger, who was also a London call girl for two years.

On Nov. 15, Belle revealed her true identity, she is Dr. Brooke Magnanti, a noted scientist. She disclosed her identity through a voluntary interview with the London Sunday Times. Brooke’s specialist areas are developmental neurotoxicology and cancer epidemiology. She has a PhD in informatics, epidemiology and forensic science and is now working at the Bristol Initiative for Research of Child Health. She is currently part of a team researching the potential effects on babies of their mothers' exposure to toxic chemicals.

But, from 2003 to late 2004, Brooke worked as a prostitute via a London escort agency; she started blogging as Belle de Jour — after the Buñuel film starring Catherine Deneuve as a well-to-do housewife who has sex for money because she’s bored — shortly into her career as a call girl, after an incident she thought funny enough to write down.

She charged £300 an hour for her services, of which she got £200. The average appointment lasted two hours; she saw clients two or three times a week, “sometimes less, sometimes a great deal more,” she has said.

As Belle de Jour, Brooke, of Bristol, England, has written four books in addition to her blog about her work in the sex industry.

The UK Guardian named her as one of its Faces of 2009 today. In the article, Brooke was asked about her alter ego, prompting the good doctor to laugh.

"I think people might like to read a little bit more Belle...as to how much she has changed things...on balance, she's been a good thing. But I don't think this is a fabulous life choice for everyone. It's more that every woman should be able to say, 'This is what I'd like.' Human sexuality is a massive continuum. We shouldn't forget that."

That quote underscores why I am such a deeply avid fan of Brooke’s. She is insightful, witty, brilliant and truly continues to break every mold, challenging tired and offensive stereotypes, while having a wonderfully sex-filled time of it all!

Since Brooke’s big reveal, I have devoted space to any and all fascinating news articles, features, or columns related to her. Thus, I have carefully sifted through the media deluge on both sides of the Pond and have found some that were mildly interesting, some insulting, and most poorly written. A very, very few have been exceptional. I think the honor that the Guardian bestowed today, qualifies! So, here it is in its entirety, along with the photograph that accompanied the feature article. Read it below, or at the Guardian website.

Brooke Magnanti: 'I've never had to psych myself up to take my clothes off'

guardian.co.uk/The Observer
Faces 2009

Research scientist Brooke Magnanti, formerly call-girl blogger Belle de Jour, photographed in Bristol. Photograph: Richard Saker

By Rachel Cooke
The Observer

Sunday 20 December 2009

“Wild speculation as to the identity of Belle de Jour, the call-girl blogger and author played by Billie Piper in ITV's Secret Diary of a Call Girl, was finally answered last month when scientist Brooke Magnanti stepped forward to pre-empt an outing from a tabloid newspaper.

I meet the artist formerly known as Belle de Jour in a Bristol pub. To say that she's not what I was expecting is an understatement. Small, neat and meet-your-eye straightforward, Dr. Brooke Magnanti, research scientist, is also wearing a knitted hat that, though pretty, could easily double as a tea cosy. This is extremely confusing. After all, when Belle de Jour, the waspish former call girl who wrote about her adventures anonymously in a blog and several books, finally revealed her true identity to the world last month, she was photographed by a Sunday newspaper not in sensible boots and a bright red tea cosy but wearing a silk dressing gown and what I can only describe as a come-hither smile.

Did she like the picture? "Yes, hugely!" she says. But it was a one-off. In future, she will be photographed only in jeans or a lab coat or something. Does this mean that she is wary of her newfound visibility? Not at all. Six weeks on and she is still glad that she came out. Yes, her hand was forced – a tabloid was on her trail – but the burden of secrecy had also grown increasingly heavy.

"I thought I should just get this over with. The thing that bothered me was not knowing if, or when, exposure would happen. I would never pick up a withheld number. Never. So I went to my boss and I said, 'If you can think of any reason why I shouldn't be doing this [revealing her identity], say so now.' Her attitude was, 'So long as you get on with your work.' My boyfriend already knew and a couple of close friends. I warned my mother something big was about to happen and when I did tell her, she took it in her stride; she went straight out and bought the book. It was hilarious. Then I braced myself for other people's reactions. I decided to consider anything over 0% positive a success."

There followed several days of fuss: newspaper columnists spouted; Magnanti appeared on a TV book programme; her father – estranged – gave an interview to the Daily Mail. ("That was his choice," she says. "I just hope he feels comfortable with his decision.") Then, as suddenly as the squall had blown up, quiet reigned once more. "Life continues as normal. I do feel a huge sense of relief. If someone asks me a question, I can answer it honestly. But day to day, nothing is any different. I go to work, I attend conferences."

Her current research project – it involves a pesticide she believes can be linked to developmental problems in children – is in its final stages and she must now start applying for new grants. "My concern isn't that people will interview me out of curiosity; it's that people will be less likely to interview me because they don't want to be associated with all this."

So is she determined to remain a scientist? "Oh, yes. That's my passion. I've worked really hard to stay in science. When people talk about my old life, they say, 'Oh, so she wasn't doing it to pay for a drug addiction.' Well, that's true. But I did have an addiction. It was to higher education. That's a very expensive addiction."

It is more than six years since she gave up her £300-an-hour part-time job; she is now 34. So how does she look back on the girl who decided to fund her doctorate not by waitressing but by selling sex? "I think I was a bit overwhelmed at the time. I was coming to the end of my studies and I'd applied for, and failed to get, so many jobs. Sometimes, I felt like a small cork bobbing on a large ocean. But I would have felt like that anyway, probably more so, if I'd decided to work at Starbucks."

She sounds detached, as though all this happened to someone else. Was it like being an actor? "Some aspects were like that. The bits where I had conversations, put people at their ease. But I'm not really self-conscious about my body. I've never had to psych myself up to take my clothes off. It's a difficult one to explain, but the job made me more sympathetic to men. They've got the money but not necessarily the power. If they had all the power, they wouldn't be paying for it. Somewhere, there is some vulnerability. Either they didn't have time for a girlfriend – I had a lot of those – or they were having a difficult relationship and were feeling confused. You're the one who can walk out. I've had some terrible dates, but the men who were clients bent over backwards to be nice to me. They were so eager to be seen as honest. They wanted to impress me. It was sweet."

Magnanti tells me that we shouldn't be too startled by the yawning gulf between her old job and the one she does now; we might be surprised if we knew how many women are working in the sex industry while outwardly maintaining every appearance of an ordinary, middle-class life. "A few of the girls I met at my agency were not dissimilar to me. I don't think there is such a thing as [a] typical [prostitute]. Go to some streetwalkers' charity and it's easy, from the outside, to think these people are abused. But everyone has a different set of circumstances."

But what about Belle? Is her career as an author over now? And how much has her frankness lowered the bar when it comes to writing about sex? Magnanti laughs. "I think people might like to read a little bit more Belle...as to how much she has changed things...on balance, she's been a good thing. But I don't think this is a fabulous life choice for everyone. It's more that every woman should be able to say, 'This is what I'd like.' Human sexuality is a massive continuum. We shouldn't forget that."’

As a US fan since her first blog post hit the internet in 2003, I had never fully understood how devotedly the UK media had gone to unmask Belle. Nor was I truly cognizant of the amazing number of theories about her very existence! Apparently, the most popular was that Belle was a construct, a fake, a non-person created by a famous male writer or journalist! How utterly insulting and deeply chauvinistic/misogynistic.

As a reader, it never occurred to me that Brooke was anything other than she purported to be. Her writing is real, and her literary voice completely authentic and utterly unique. I still check her blog every day. I’ve never missed a post, not because she’s famous or controversial, but because she’s a lyrical, important writer who’s had a deep impact on me and my life.

Please check back frequently, as Brooke will take center stage on this blog whenever warranted!

Belle de Jour’s Guide to Men, published by Orion Books, hit store shelves in the United Kingdom on Oct. 1. Not yet available in the US, it is widely available across the pond at UK bookstores, or via Amazon’s UK division.

When you’re there, be sure and check out Belle’s other books: The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl, September 2005; The Further Adventures of a London Call Girl, May 2007; and Playing the Game, June 2009. Not a ringer in the bunch – trust me!

— The Curator

THE Mistress and Belle de Jour — Perfect Together

Finally, a wonderful interview of the fabulous Belle de Jour by a woman who is a legendary sex worker in her own right: The Mistress Matisse!

For those of you who are unfamiliar Belle de Jour, that had been the nom de plume of a celebrated British erotic author, and award-winning blogger, who was also a London call girl for two years.

On Nov. 15, Belle revealed her true identity, she is Dr. Brooke Magnanti, a noted scientist. She disclosed her identity through a voluntary interview with the London Sunday Times. Brooke’s specialist areas are developmental neurotoxicology and cancer epidemiology. She has a PhD in informatics, epidemiology and forensic science and is now working at the Bristol Initiative for Research of Child Health. She is currently part of a team researching the potential effects on babies of their mothers' exposure to toxic chemicals.

But, from 2003 to late 2004, Brooke worked as a prostitute via a London escort agency; she started blogging as Belle de Jour — after the Buñuel film starring Catherine Deneuve as a well-to-do housewife who has sex for money because she’s bored — shortly into her career as a call girl, after an incident she thought funny enough to write down.

She charged £300 an hour for her services, of which she got £200. The average appointment lasted two hours; she saw clients two or three times a week, “sometimes less, sometimes a great deal more,” she has said.

As Belle de Jour, Brooke, who lives in Bristol, England, has written four books in addition to her blog about her work in the sex industry.

As a US fan since her first blog post hit the internet in 2003, I had never fully understood how devotedly the UK media had gone to unmask Belle. Nor was I truly cognizant of the amazing number of theories about her even existing. Apparently, the most popular was that Belle was a construct, a fake, a non-person created by a famous male writer or journalist! How utterly insulting and deeply chauvinistic.

To me, the truth is quite simple: Brooke continues to break every mold, and challenge tired and offensive stereotypes, while having a wonderfully sex-filled time of it all! As a reader, it never occurred to me that Brooke was anything other than she purported to be. Her writing is real, and her literary voice completely authentic and utterly unique. I still check her blog every day. I’ve never missed a post, not because she’s famous or controversial, but because she’s a lyrical, important writer who’s had a deep impact on my life.

Since Brooke’s big reveal and because I remain a deeply avid fan, I have devoted space to any and all news articles, features, or columns related to her. Thus, I have carefully sifted through the media deluge on both sides of the Pond and have found some that were mildly interesting, some insulting, and most poorly written. A very, very few have been exceptional. I am proud to post one of the best of the bunch now, written by Mistress Matisse, of whom I am also a huge fan.

Mistress Matisse has been active in the BDSM community for more 18 years. Mistress is a professional dominatrix, wonderful blogger, and columnist for the Seattle-based alternative newspaper, The Stranger. Her bi-weekly columns, entitled The Control Tower, offer sexually-related advice about polyamory, kink, sex work, and the BDSM culture at large.

If you would like to read her column about Belle at the newspaper site, I have included the link. I also whole-heartedly recommend her great blog.

The following is the Mistress’ column in its entirety, unedited.

The Stranger
Control Tower
Seattle, WA

by Mistress Matisse

“The best-kept secret of the sex-blogger world was revealed recently when the long-anonymous author of the blog/book-turned-TV-show Belle de Jour: Diary of a London Call Girl revealed herself as Dr. Brooke Magnanti, a research scientist in child health at Bristol University. I asked Magnanti how she feels about being out as Belle.

Sometimes people change their behavior toward me when they find out I'm "Mistress Matisse." Are your social acquaintances treating you any differently?

People in my life are treating me exactly the same. This may be because I've never made any secret of being sex-positive. If I were still working [as an escort], it might be different, but everyone seems to take it as just another one of those crazy stories about me, like the time I kept sneaking out of a friend's birthday to have sex in the loo.

I talk to women who say, "I'd like to be an escort, but no one can ever find out!" I say, "If your world would end if people found out, then don't do it." You kept your secret for a long time. Any strategies for that?

Legally, I protected my anonymity as a writer by setting up a shell corporation that took all the payments for my work. I was undone not by legalities, but because I told the wrong person—my ex. Bottom line, if you don't want anyone to find out, don't tell anyone. That's an unlikely situation for most people. I would go with the same advice: Don't do it if coming out would destroy you.

Many women who keep their sex-work careers secret find that stressful. Did you pay a price, emotionally, to keep your friends from knowing?

It would have been far easier to be out as a sex worker. As a well-known writer and sex worker? I don't know. My friends seem prepared to handle the odd twists and turns in life, but the reaction from the press has been so stereotypical, so reductive. They are always looking for the pat, easy "explanation." Their agenda seems to be writing off any woman who has sex.

Has anyone recognized you on the street?

I was paranoid that people kept looking at me, but it seems [they were only looking at] this new red hat. Not saying it won't happen, but you have to look at a face in 2-D pretty often before you recognize it. Friends of mine read the entire Times article and didn't recognize it was me.

Now that you're out, are you enjoying the freedom to make jokes or casual references to your former career?

Love the jokes. It helps defuse the tension when I'm in a group, too; people seem to be afraid to take the piss now that I'm slightly famous. Kissing of ass and preserving of ego is not to be encouraged, ever.”

Thankfully, Mistress also dedicated her current blog to writing the remainder of questions she’d asked Brooke, but was unable to include in The Stranger column because of space considerations. Here is her blog, in its entirety. Enjoy!

"In Which I Sort Of Go All Fangirl

The lovely and talented Belle de Jour was good enough to grant me an interview recently, in the wake of her coming out as (gasp) a intelligent, emotionally balanced woman who did sex work for a while, had nothing particularly terrible happen, moved on with her life, and has no regrets about having done it.

Apparently that's a really shocking concept for a lot of people in the media. (Or at least, they pretend it is.) And a lot of them have tried to shake her from that position. But I saw a clip of Belle on TV not long ago, and I was thrilled because she was perfectly poised and composed, and she just seemed so blessedly normal.

I mean normal in the most flattering sense. Anytime I see a sex worker on a talk-show, I pretty much expect her to come off looking like a train wreck. Because that's the kind of person talk-show producers want to have on their shows, and most of the time, that's who they get. Particularly when the topic has anything to do with sex that's the slightest bit non-traditional.

And if you aren't a train wreck when you walk onto the stage, you'll probably be one by the time you walk off. I have known sexual outlaws who were able to hold their own with aggressive media people – Allena Gabosch comes to mind, and Veronica Monet - but most of us aren't trained for that, and so we get flustered and look stupid.

But when I watched Belle, she just seemed – sane. Calm. Rational, even. Just... normal! I was immensely pleased – and absurdly proud of her, even though I didn't have a thing to do with it.

Okay, so, enough fangirling.

However, since my column space at The Stranger is strictly limited to not-quite 500 words, I never have enough space to talk about everything I really want to. Here's the questions and answers I couldn't make fit in the Stranger piece.

Thanks again, Belle!

***

Mistress Matisse: There’s this habit I’ve seen in a lot of women in sex work that I call thinking in “Sex Worker Units.” Whatever one earns per hour, one forms the habit of translating dollars into time and making spending choices accordingly. A woman who thinks in Sex Worker Units will look at the price tag on, say, a dress, and think, “$900? Hmm, that would only take me 3 hours to earn.”

I find it generally skews towards being freer with money – three hours doesn't really sound like very much, really. It's easier to justify dropping cash on this or that.

The other way of saying this, that I used to hear a lot among dancers in particular, was "I'll make it back." As in, "I spent X dollars at the mall today, but it's okay, I'll make it back tonight." As if one had temporarily mislaid the money, but would soon find it again.

For good or for bad, these ways of thinking about money seems to be a hard habit for women who leave the sex industry to break. Belle, do you still catch yourself thinking in Sex Worker Units about money? (If you ever did. I suppose not everyone does.)

Belle de Jour: You know, I don't. But the main difference between you and me is that sex work was like an agreeable summer job for me, whereas it's your real vocation and talent. I tend to think in "scientist units." (As in, if I get that research grant, I can squeeze that extra conference in Rome this year...)

Mistress Matisse: What is the question that no interviewer has yet asked you, that you wish they would? (And what’s the answer?)

Belle de Jour: I wish they'd ask what I think of funding in research and academia. Not everyone in my situation would have chosen this (sex work), but plenty do. It's a crime when the slightly dim are running the banks into the ground and the truly clever are fighting over a pittance. People think once you're in science you have a job for life - I know people who sell shoes and make more than me, and I have to fight for my position every year. And we wonder why no one takes climate change science et al. seriously - it's because scientists are so little valued."

Told you it was a wonderful interview! Cheers to the Mistress, and as always, to Brooke! May these two important women write forever.

Belle de Jour’s Guide to Men, published by Orion Books, hit store shelves in the United Kingdom on Oct. 1. Not yet available in the US, it is widely available across the pond at UK bookstores, or via Amazon’s UK division.

When you’re there, be sure and check out Belle’s other books: The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl, September 2005; The Further Adventures of a London Call Girl, May 2007; and Playing the Game, June 2009. Not a ringer in the bunch – trust me!

— The Curator

Really, Really LOUD Sex Romps End in Court

A British housewife is in big trouble — for repeatedly having VERY noisy sex with her husband. Investigators went so far as to sample decibel levels at a neighbor’s while the woman was...well...in flagrante delicto!

I love England! This would so NEVER happen in the U.S. First, women here tend not to be that loud, and if they were, they would never be taken to court, someone would simply bang on the wall to shut them up.

This report underscores what I have found often true about the British: They maintain a facade of public civility at all costs, but embrace their sexual nature with wonderful, even gleeful abandon.

Yesterday, a British woman admitted breaching a four-year Anti-Social Behavior Order given in April after hundreds of complaints from neighbors about her deafening sexual romps with her husband, and is now in violation of that order.

An Anti-Social Behavior Order, or ASBO for short, is a civil order made against people deemed to be a public nuisance, and is more typically issued for young delinquents using threatening behavior, or disrupting the peace.

Caroline Cartwright, 48, had been served with the civil order over marathon sex romps with her husband, described in court as sounding "unnatural" and "like they are both in considerable pain."

The order had been made to stop her from "making excessive noise" during the ear-splitting sex sessions with her husband, Steve, at their home in Concord, Washington, Tyne and Wear. The notice had specifically banned Mrs. Cartwright from "shouting, screaming or vocalization at such a level as to be a statutory nuisance."

Neighbors at their home in Washington, south of Newcastle in northeast England, had complained about the levels of noise – as did a woman taking her child to school and the local postman!

Yesterday, Mrs. Cartwright pleaded guilty at Newcastle Crown Court to breaching the civil order banning her from having noisy on sex three occasions — once just hours after the ban was imposed in April. She pleaded guilty to making love with sounds described as "murder," "unnatural," and capable of drowning out her neighbors' TVs.

At an earlier hearing, the court was told that the local Sunderland City Council had set up special equipment in a neighbor's “flat” and recorded noise levels when the Cartwright’s went at it. The equipment recorded the Cartwright’s sex noise levels at an average of 30-40 decibels, peaking at 47 – World Health Organization guidelines say 30 decibels is enough to cause sleep disturbance.

"It's just quite unnatural. The noise sounds like they are both in considerable pain. I cannot describe the noise. Totally excessive and I have never, ever heard anything like it. I put my television in my bedroom on as loud as it could go and they drown it out," said the couple's neighbor Rachel O'Connor.

At Newcastle Crown Court yesterday, Mrs. Cartwright admitted breaching the ASBO on April 18, April 22 and April 26. As a result, Mrs. Cartwright was convicted of breaching the order and ruled in violation of the ASBO.

Despite her guilty pleas, Judge Beatrice Bolton said Mrs. Cartwright will not go to jail when she is sentenced on January 18. "I'm certainly not going to pass an immediate custodial sentence but I am going to order a pre-sentence report. This is not the usual sort of anti-social behavior. The reason why I am asking for a pre-sentence report is because it is such an unusual case and this is the first breach. If it were to be a custodial sentence it would be suspended, I think, at this stage," the Judge said.

Mrs. Cartwright, who will be sentenced in Newcastle on Jan. 18, was granted bail to a hostel away from her home in Washington.

Last month she appealed against the imposition of the Asbo, saying she is "powerless" to control herself during romps. Giving evidence, Mrs. Cartwright said she was unable to control the noise she made during sex.

"I did not understand why people asked me to be quiet because to me it is normal. I didn't understand where they were coming from. I have tried to minimize the situation by having sex in the morning – not at night – so the noise was not waking anybody," she said.

The order had been imposed by Sunderland Magistrates after she repeatedly breached a noise abatement notice made after more than 250 complaints from neighbors about her "shouting and screaming."

Her grounds for appeal were that she is unable to control her vocalization during lovemaking, and any attempt at restricting her behavior is a breach of her human rights.

But a judge, sitting with two magistrates, threw out her appeal and dismissed her claim she was unable to control herself, saying, "Frankly, we don't believe her."
 
 
---The Curator