Friday, July 27, 2012

Contest Blog -- part 1

Wednesday

Travel day. Ruby picked me up at 8:30 and we fought Obama traffic to get me to the train. After that, all was well. Had dinner with a couple random guys, and got to explain the contest to them via asking what I had been blogging about. Beautiful scenery in southern Oregon. Sleep was less than great, could not get comfortable and my lower back paid the price.

Thursday

Arrived in Oakland at 8:40, on time. Dragged bags to BART, then a cab from Civic Center to the hotel.

Hooker was the first person I saw who I knew. I always have an internal poll on that. I know lots of people here, with a dozen years and more of travelling to these weekend events all over the country.

Check in to the hotel was a mess. GLPW had arranged for a check, but the hotel equipment wouldn't process it. The bank said there was no problem on their end, arranged to get me the cash, and all was well. Kept myself calm throughout. Boy Dan and Pope Bacon (and Jeremy on the phone) were stellar throughout.

We ended up a number 11 out of 15. I think I would have ideally liked about 7 or 8 (right in the middle), but this puts us right after lunch for the interviews, which may be good -- refreshed judges, not yet food sleepy.

Meet and Greet at Mr. S was fun, but it was difficult to track down each of the judges. It very much felt like "moth and flame", finding a judge and circling in the near distance until we could come close. (Not just Dan and myself with this, all the title teams.) A couple of the judges I didn't know before knew me from the blog and other sources, which I hope turns out to be good.

Dan and I wore leather-themed T's, some of my designs (Leatherboy and Shattered Leather Flag). One of the judges asked about them specifically, which validated wearing them vs. other options. The other contestants wherein everything from leather T's to bare chested to sash, the full range.

Intro of contestants and sort-of speeches (not final stepdowns) from Alan, Nitro, and Luna followed at the hotel, plus more mingling. Got a little more face time with a couple of the judges (or ass time in one case, showing off the lightning bolts).

Dan and I headed to the room to rap down and get some sleep rather than going out. Cliff finally got in around 1 am, had a loooong wait for the shuttle service to actually bring him to the hotel.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Bottoming Out: Can a Sir Take It Up the Ass?

A lot of people have an image in their head of a “Leather Sir” which is strongly influenced by Tom of Finland’s “Kake” comics.

What they conveniently forget is that a few pages of the comic later, Kake was often bottoming as well as topping.

(from Kake 13 [1973] and Kake 7 [1970], © Tom of Finland)

There is also pretty broad acceptance that a leatherboy can be, if not a top, at least not just a bottom.  But acceptance that a Sir can like to bottom is harder to come by.

Let’s be frank here: I have been in leather since 1991.  It was that nipple play scene with Jean-Baptiste that really triggered things, I guess.  I have bottomed a lot over the years and topped a lot as well.  And after more than 20 years, I have found there are things I really like to do in each role.

When pressed, I call myself probably 90% top for BDSM play these days.  My last significant sessions as a bottom for flogging or spanking or bondage were a couple years or longer ago, although there was a nice nipple and CBT scene last October.  Guys tend to come to me for these things rather than the other way around.

For “insertive play” — sucking, fucking, fisting, etc.  — I call myself 50/50, willing to take as much as I give.  And I do.  Give me the chance and I will happily hop into the sling first, but if you want the first round, just say so.  Especially for fisting, the connection is as powerful no matter which end of the wrist I am on, and I love love love seeing a guy on my hand processing the same sensations that I have had in the past; it is truly a case of bottom skills informing top skills, and vice versa.

So how does this fit in with my self-image as a Leather Sir?  How do I reconcile taking it up the ass with being a Sir?  First, I do that by remembering the Kake example above: the character we most associate with our top leather imagery wasn’t a total top and seemed to really like some bottoming action mixed in.

Second, I remember that the words I use inform the meaning they impart.  I top, but I am not a Top — I am more than that.  I bottom, but I am not a Bottom — I am more than that as well.

Third, I remember that while LeatherSir is a “players” title, as a regional and potentially international titleholder, being a “Sir” is more than just beating and buttsex.  My title agreements included both fundraising and workshops — serving the community and passing my skills onto others.  In it’s ultimate form, a LeatherSir is (to me) someone who is known for his skills in leather and who is sought out for them (and by extension, who passes them on, whether in group workshops or one-on-one with a partner/boy/someone being mentored).

A man who is not known for his skills is invisible; he may be great at what he does, but he doesn’t participate in his leather community and his skills benefit no one but himself.  A man who is not sought out for his skills is too private or too quiet — or to self-effacing to admit that his skills are worthy.  A man who does not pass his skills on will see them die with him.

These are what truly qualify a leather Sir to me.  What those skills are — be they making leather gear or throwing a whip or taking a fist in the ass — matter less than the fact that he has them, is known for them, and shares them with others.

If I can achieve that (and I think I have), then anyone who looks askance at me being really good at getting fisted (and doing it in return) is actually observing his own limits, not mine.

Updated on August 6, 2012:

Touch-up edits and added links.
Updated on August 9, 2012:

Better example images.
Updated on February 24, 2015:

Pussied-out the naughty bits on a pic to try and keep Google from blocking the blog.

RUMPUS (Seattle) • July 13–15

Over 20 years ago, Bill Houghton created Rubbout, a rubber enthusiasts weekend in Vancouver, BC.  I got into rubber in the late 1990s and started coming to Rubbout with the 8th year, while I still lived in the Bay Area.  I convinced Bill to let me put up a website for the event (and it is still up!) — all the advertising and outreach before then had been through paper flyers and rubber club newsletters.  (I have no recollection how I first found out about Rubbout, now that I think of it.  Maybe a flyer at the Loading Dock in San Francisco.)

It was coming back from Rubbout in April, 2000, driving back through Seattle to return to SeaTac airport to fly home that I firmly decided to move to Seattle.

As of this year, I have been to Rubbout 13 times, I think, only missing one year that I can recall.  For a few years, some of us have talked about replicating Rubbout in Seattle, but talking is about all we managed.  In 2011, we actually announced doing an event and then it didn’t come off.  This year was the year, though!

Several years ago, Seattle Men in Leather tried having SIGs — Special Interest Groups — where groups of members could focus around a given fetish or activity (like rubber) and get some communication and even monetary support from the organization without SML having to focus its board on the SIG topic.  The only one of these which got of the ground at all was a rubber SIG, dubbed RUMPUS (RUbber Men of PUget Sound; the alternate name considered was RUMPS), but we only managed a couple meetings before I got to busy to drive things and it went away.  But the name remained with me.

Scouting for the right time of year and weekend, I decided to target mid-July.  While other events also occur then — we overlapped onto Wet ’n Hot and Thunder in the Mountains — mid-summer is away from Rubbout, West Coast Rubber, and Mr. International Rubber, and most especially, it is warm enough for guys to be comfortable in latex.  In terms of weekends, Seattle Men in Leather has a 2nd Friday education session, a new 2nd Friday demo and social, and a 3rd Sunday brunch (with this time, 3rd Sunday being right after 2nd Saturday).  So presto, the core of a weekend event was laid at my feet.

And thus did RUMPUS play out.  In February for West Coast Rubber, I did up a postcard design and a “save the date” website (hosted off my SoundsKinky site), distributing more cards in April at Rubbout.  A variant design was used for the poster which went out in Seattle before the event.  Originally, there was going to be a registration fee for the weekend, processed through GLPW and benefitting some charity, but that went by the wayside as my busy summer got in the way of that level of planning.  I still did an online reg form, to gather some info for direct mailings next year.

The event itself consisted of:

We only had about a dozen rubber guys in total, but that was still enough to call this a successful first event, something to build up next year.  Special thanks to Bill Houghton as instigator of Rubbout and thus “grandfather” to RUMPUS; Scott and Daniel at Tribal Instinct/CockCircus for making it easier for RUMPUS attendees to go to those events; Reid and Marc for bringing down the rubber bondage equipment and running it on Friday night; Pup Gadget for taking the “pup” portion of the event and putting it together with almost no cycles needed from me; the Cuff Complex for letting us do the Saturday afternoon pup mosh; Tony at Steamworks for giving a discount to RUMPUS guys (and keeping after me to get things set up for that!); Boom Noodle and CC Attle’s for accepting us; and anyone I have forgotten.

RUMPUS will occur again next summer, although exactly when remains to be seen, based on the rest of my schedule as I learn it.  I hope to go back to the reg fee idea, which would cover admission to various events and raise some money for charity.

Sometimes at leather contest interviews, the question is asked “What will the title enable you to do?”, and no matter the answer, the judge’s response seems to be “Why can’t you do that without a title?”  Why couldn’t I get a rubber weekend to happen in Seattle in years before this, but I could now?  Because the title, and the active direction toward the International one, forced me to think more strongly about what I wanted to accomplish this year — including building stronger bridges between leather and rubber — and it got me to make commitments about events I wanted to do.  Would a Seattle rubber weekend have occurred without my having the Northwest LeatherSIR title?  I can’t say for sure, but because I ended up being the sole driver on the event in the end, there’s a good chance that it would not have.


Updated on August 2, 2012:

Touch-up edits and added links and poster.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Am I Scary Enough?

With LeatherSIR defined as a “players” title, one of the questions that bothered me some earlier in the title year was whether my kinks and play activities measure up, whether they are “enough” for the title and to carry me through to an International win.

The title of this post came from a discussion about some local play parties where some people who are on the invite list never come to the party.  When asked why, their response was that they aren’t “scary” enough to come to those parties.  While we knew they wouldn’t be on the invite list if they weren’t sufficiently advanced players to be appropriate, it raised a couple interesting thoughts about our own perceptions of both our kinks and our perceived skills with those kinks.

There is always someone who plays with stuff that is too “edge” for you, and there is always someone who plays harder or “better” at the same things you do.  If you limit what you allow yourself to do because you think other people will judge you and consider you to be inferior — because what you do isn’t as extreme as what they do — then you will never get the chance to play at all.  This is a really hard hump for people to climb over.

(This wasn’t about my fisting parties, but as I think of it, there are guys who have been on the invite list for a while who always say to keep them on the list but never actually make it to a party.  I’ll bet some are simply intimidated by the thought of a group party where there are guys who are “better” than they are — deeper, wider, just more experienced — so they don’t come and don’t get to play with a variety of great guys in a great, supportive environment.)

In the 90s and early 00s, when I was simply trying to figure out what I liked, I sampled a lot of kinks, and bought a lot of equipment (including contest auction baskets; you don’t think I bought multiple huge nasty paddles, do you?).  I’ve got probably a dozen floggers, a couple spreader and bondage bars, a wide selection of cuffs, sounds, an electric butt plug, pounds and pounds of dildos, a humbler, collars, whips, a myriad of paddles and rods… you name it, I likely have it, including some rather interesting, quirky items.  A lot of it, though, I never use.  In fact, some of it has never been used at all, by me or on me.

A large piece of this lack of use, of course, is finding the right partner for certain equipment.  You don’t spring a paddle with sharp-edged grooves cut into it on just anyone, after all.

More than that, though, as I have matured, I have also narrowed my focus.  Before, I was into (nearly) everything, or said I was because I didn’t know any better, but now I have found a few things that I really do like/am good at, a few things I like enough/am good enough at, a whole bunch of things that only lightly interest me, and a few things which definitely don’t interest me.

The peculiar side-effect of that is that stuff that I do enough to know I really like and get good at also starts to seem mainstream.  One friend a few years ago said “What I do is normal.  What he does is edgeplay.”  Another, at a recent fisting workshop, whispered “Is fisting really considered edgy?  It’s always seemed normal to me.”

Which cycles back to the original question: Am I “scary” enough?  For my title year, rather than trying to be into everything (a Sir of all trades), I decided to focus on two things: fisting and foodplay (and to a lesser extent, flogging — FFF!).  The first being something to center around, the second something to explore.  Most especially, this helps me have a kink center to bring things back to for my interview questions, my speech, and even to touch on in my stage fantasy.

Is fisting “scary” enough?  The lack of need for fancy equipment and the basic truth that it’s just a (huge!) step up from fucking make fisting seem simple to some people.  I often forget about my own journey, which took a couple years to complete the first leg of the “journey” (taking a fist), and then many more to repeat it at will.  I see that I am still building my skills, as both top and bottom, with no end in sight — I can see the vast distances I have traveled and that the road goes ever on, and that is a good thing!  While I do it often, fisting is a huge mystery to many guys, and to many others, it is an occasional event at best (so many never get truly good at it, having to always relearn atrophied skills).  So yes, fisting is “scary” enough.

How about foodplay?  This is a huge blank space on the map for most people, marked by “Here there be (hungry) dragons”.  Most guys don’t even have a solid concept of what could be involved with foodplay, beyond two obvious images: a cucumber or other vegetable as a dildo, and licking whipped cream or honey off someone’s chest.  (Or maybe that scene from 9-1/2 Weeks.  And for some people, much of foodplay actively turns them off.)  Like with fisting, foodplay really needs no elaborate equipment; just go to the kitchen and use what you find.  Super-cheap kinky play, that confuses people.  (How can Mr. S make money from this?  Is it valid if they can’t?)  Just from the curiosity factor — break out a Klondike bar for your scene and people will pay attention — yes, foodplay is “scary” enough.

Does flogging qualify?  Almost no one would question this one, although when marked up against guys who use singletails, it starts to seem like the baby brother of “real” whipping.  But that depends on what your goals are and how you implement things.  I sometimes do just standard flogging, but I like to get up close and use my hands to beat on a guy (usually in concert with pop music rhythms, to abuse the brain as well as the body).  I like to scratch (if I have any fingernails after trimming them for fisting), I like to bite, I like to spit.  Even if I don’t raise welts and break the skin, I leave my mark.

In the end, this all second guessing the competition judges, and there are a bunch of them.  Do they feel that fisting is “out there” enough, or has it become too mainstream?  Do they think just flogging is passé, that whipping is where it’s at?  Do they think foodplay is just dumb, not even worth considering in comparison to e-stim and suspension bondage and fireplay?  Or maybe, hopefully, they don’t really care what you do — “Your kink is your kink” — so long as you do something!


Updated on August 1, 2012:

Touch-up edits and added links.

Camp Columbia (Richland, WA) • July 6–8

My friends Jan and Walt have a small compound (house, enclosed yard, bunkhouse) in Richland which they open up for fisting parties (dubbed “Camp Columbia”) a couple weekends each summer, inviting guys in from Seattle, Moses Lake, Spokane, Moscow, and other places around the Pacific Northwest (especially the Eastern Washington side).

This was my second trip over there, both times on the scooter.  As usual on these ride, I wore my title vest much like bike club colors.  It is about a 3.5 hour ride (about 200 miles), 4 hours with a food break in Ellensburg.  I cut out of work as early as I could, fed the cat and grabbed my bag, and was off.  Most of the trip was in daylight, dusk coming on just around Vantage (30 minutes past Ellensburg).  South of Vantage, at Mattawa on the Columbia River and just at twilight, about 14 million bugs decided to suicide on the front of the bike, and all over my helmet and my front (shirt, gloves, and title vest).  I had to stop at the next rest area to wash off the helmet face shield enough to see well.  If Ruin had an “ick” reaction to a bit of Crisco on my vest a few months ago, I can only imagine her reaction to a splatter of bug bits!

Since the last time I was at their place, Jan and Walt acquired the house next door, doubling the size of the compound and giving more sleeping space for guests (and a small shed for an extra, private sling space).  They are talking about how they could turn it into an actual clothing-optional resort, a là Palm Springs.  I think that would be very cool.  (Or hot, since it is summer!)

Cliff and Ken and Paul had also ridden over from Western Washington, which was a surprise since Cliff had said he wasn’t coming a couple days before; I think the temptation of a good motorcycle ride helped.  I played a couple times on Friday night before bed.  The next day, several of the guys from Eastern Washington headed home.  Since July 4th was mid-week this year, Camp Columbia actually spanned both weekends, and they had been there since at least the holiday.  This (and the split week in general) reduced the number of people, but I still got to play a few times, including with hottie Nick in the afternoon.

I had a difficult time bottoming this weekend, needing far more effort to take hands than usual.  It’s not the temperature (since I dealt with that in Palm Springs in June), so it was either just the long ride making my ass weary, or so much play in San Francisco the weekend before setting things off.  I had some difficulty earlier in the week, too, so I actually lean toward the latter, and I’ve had the problem once before, where for whatever reason, it’s like a switch was toggled in my ass, resetting my ability to relax properly back to where I was 3 or 4 years ago.  As with that time, my brain knew what to do but my body was rejecting it.  And as with the previous instance, I simply kept at it and things smoothed back to my regular state by the next weekend.  (I should remember to ask other fisting friends if they have encountered this effect.)

Sunday morning, with temperatures that day expected to crest 100, Cliff and Paul headed out about 9:30 on the route to Vantage I had come down on, and I took the alternate Yakima route around 10:00, and we met up for lunch in Ellensburg.  They then headed to Leavenworth and Stevens Pass (better end point for where they each live, north of Seattle), while I took Snoqualmie Pass.  I had a fine ride back, but they got caught in traffic down the pass (probably worse because of the semi-holiday weekend) and it took an extra 90 minutes or so.


Updated on August 1, 2012:

Touch-up edits and added links and map.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Review: The Leatherman’s Protocol Handbook

Yes, it’s true.  I have read that book.  The one panned so severely by Guy Baldwin and others.  (I did not buy it, though.  Someone who shall remain unnamed bit the bullet and loaned his copy to me.)

Reviews on Amazon

Guy Baldwin on Leatherati


Jeffrey Payne on Leatherati


More from Jeffrey Payne on Leatherati


John Weal’s response on Leatherati

On some level, I am glad I read the book, because now I can put the comments of Baldwin, Jeffrey Payne, Patrick Mulcahey, and others into better context.  And it turns out that the big hulabaloo is really focused mostly on a single chapter, enhanced by author John D.  Weal’s reaction to people’s comments and unwillingness or inability to defend what he claims to be factual.

I came into leather in the early 1990s in the San Francisco Bay Area.  That was the height of the AIDS epidemic, before much of anything but AZT was around as treatment.  Much of the generation of leathermen who would be lost was already gone, and their history and knowledge with them.  I largely had to self-teach myself about leather protocols across that decade, picking up bits here and there from individual leathermen, learning by observation in leather bars, and picking up info where I could from books and magazines.  When Weal goes into detail about clothing styles and guidelines, dungeon rules, high and low protocol, I recognize large portions of this as things I learned in my early years, and thus anything which falls into realms I had no connection with, I can accept as likely valid (at least to the degree Weal experienced it).  (Although some of what is listed remains bizarre: a boy would not be allowed to use the toilet seat?).  And thus, I see good value in some portions of this book.  (But not that one chapter, which admittedly casts a shadow on any other parts I cannot independently validate.)

But let’s get one thing out of the way: this is not a good book, overall.  The content of the one controversial chapter aside, is not generally a well written book, nor a well edited one, nor a well focused one.  There is little narrative through line.  Some chapters wander all over the map.  Some concepts are introduced as though the reader should know them, only to be defined pages or even chapters later.  This book needs not just an editor, it needs a producer: someone able to establish direction and make sure that a viable product comes out the other side.

Just to pick on one aspect, Weal’s own timeline is inconsistent throughout the book.  At one point, he says he was collared by his master in 1968, but his bio says he has been “actively involved with the BDSM Lifestyle for Over 35 years” [caps per the bio], which would put his collaring around 1975 (the book was published in 2010).  And thus when he speaks of the ways of the Council, or delineates protocols for boys, just which decade he means becomes even more hazy: is this now, is it the 1970s, is it the 1950s (which he was only told about by his master)?  Every time the reader encounters a head-scratcher like these, he loses faith in the rest of the content.

Weal’s writing is also mangled by his need for continual completeness in terminology, forcing him to use “Master/Sir” and “boy/boi/submissive/slave” throughout.  When those phrases show up multiple times each in a single paragraph, the brain starts to drop out entire sentences.  The need to list all the possibilities every time prevents his message from coming through.

I was always taught to try and find something good to say about anything I review, since the writer put a lot of effort into the writing, and someone somewhere thought it was good enough to actually publish and release the work.  So here goes: the germ of a couple truly interesting books does exist in here.  First, Weal could put together a book of history and stories about the early leather scene as he knew it and as was related to him by those he knew; he might have to fictionalize some of it, change the names and such, but a lot of valid insight into how things were in the circles he had access to could still come through such a book.  Second, while there is doubt shed on the accuracy of many things Weal says about “Old Guard” practices — and common wisdom says that many rituals and protocols were highly regional and even individual — an analytic comparison of “Old Guard” practices with how those things are handled and performed today could be interesting, marking how our leather society has changed (and where it has not).

But I have no belief that either of those books are ones Weal is willing or able to produce.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Riding the Bike

When I tell people I ride a “scooter”, they usually think of this:



When what I ride is this:



Not quite the same thing, eh?

A “scooter” is simply another form of a motorcycle, not particularly any more different from a standard cruiser style than a “lean forward” crotch rocket sport bike is.  Scooters are usually on the lower end of the power spectrum — the smaller ones are intended for in-city commutes, mostly — and they have a floorboard, so you usually sit upright.  Most scooters are also automatic transmission, and they usually have under-seat storage.

Mine is a Kymco Downtown 300i — at 300 cc, one of the more powerful scooters.  (Kymco is a Taiwanese company.  They also make engine parts for Vespa and BMW.) I have had this one for a little over a year (since April 2011), replacing my previous Kymco People S 125 which I had ridden for the previous 3 years.  When I upgraded to the Downtown, I stuck with a brand I knew and trusted.

When people hear that I ride a “scooter”, they picture me putt-putting along at 25 mph on city streets, doing short trips of a couple miles max.

In 15 months, I have put just short of 10,000 miles on my Downtown, with over 15,000 miles on the People S before it.  It is my primary commute vehicle — my only vehicle until the car gets some cooling system repairs — 5 miles each way including segments on the freeway, in traffic.  I ride year round, in everything from sun to pouring rain; only the threat of snow keeps me off it.

(Oh, and thunderstorms.  Lightning and motorcycles don’t seem to be a smart mix.  We usually have none of these a year in Seattle, but the morning after I wrote this post, we had our fourth one in two weeks.  And I delayed going into work until it passed.)

I have ridden my Downtown on hours-long trips to Portland, Vancouver, and Richland — the last being 4 hours each way with a rest break (which is where that pic was taken), including a mountain pass — at highway speeds, topping it out at 90 mph.  (Shh, don’t tell the cops.)  With the trunk, the space under the seat, and a bag strapped behind me, I can carry enough luggage (including my leathers) for a long weekend trip.  I can also carry my inflatable kayak (uninflated, of course) on it.  Or a dog cage suitable for puppy play.

I get as high at 74 mpg in cool weather.  I can almost always find a parking space, and parking in the downtown garages is just $5 for the day, usually with a space for me on the first level of the garage.  And insurance is $100 for the entire year.

So please feel free to sneer a little when you hear I ride a “scooter”.  I’ll do the same when I hear you complain about gas and parking and insurance prices for your car, or when I see you get your own motorcycle out only on the sunny days in Seattle (all 14 of them each year).  Even a “scooter” motorcycle beats one that doesn’t get ridden or one that doesn’t even exist.

Oh, and I’ll see you at Folsom in September.  I plan to ride down, over 800 miles each way.  On my “scooter”.