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Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Resolution
That goes for all of us, I think: be safe, be happy. (Click pic above for full poster text.)
[And if you're aged between 16 and 25 and in the UK, you can contact Brook for free, confidential, sexual health advice.]
UPDATE: Chlamydia is the most common sexually transmitted infection in the UK: 1 in 10 young people under 25 who are tested have it. Visit the National Screening Programme and get treated, for free.
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Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Transparency
"Those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account - to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day - because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government."
President Barack H. Obama, January 20th 2009.
It’s simple: if there’s no transparency of government, there can be no trust.
On May 16th 2008, when the High Court ruled that MPs’ expenses claims must be published under the Freedom of Information Act, some of us rejoiced that – finally! – our Parliament would be more open and transparent.
However, after spending seven months compiling the data to be published, at a cost to the taxpayer of almost £1m, the supposedly open and transparent MPs who represent us have now, just weeks before publication, decided to vote to change the law to keep their expenses secret.
Was this decision made public? No: it was quietly sneaked out during the Heathrow runway announcement last week. Their choosing to change the law in order to keep their expenses claims – which we citizens pay for – secret, goes against an open democracy. If they’ve nothing to hide, why hide the information? In Scotland, MSPs are required to declare all of their expenses to the Scottish parliament, so why not in England?
Let us be clear here: this is not about making MPs account for every little photocopy or printout made. This is about MPs deciding that – unlike every other public servant in Britain – they deserve different treatment, and should not have to disclose their expenses. If we all have to justify our expenses to the taxman, then so should they. This is not Orwell's Animal Farm: there should not be one rule for them and another for us.
MPs will be voting to alter the High Court ruling and change the law this Thursday, January 22nd 2009. If they win their vote, it will be a strike against transparency in this country and a deathblow to any trust we have in democracy. But it’s not too late: we can voice opposition and force MPs to uphold the High Court ruling – if we act NOW.
I urge you to –
Join this Facebook group
Write to your MP
And please spread the word
Thank you.
/partypoliticalbroadcast
UPDATE: We did it! This calls for a Victorygasm, I think.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Dig
Usually, after having sex, one does not expect to find blood everywhere. That’s not to say that bleeding doesn’t occur: what horny woman who is sure she has finished her period and can’t wait to enthusiastically jump on a cock hasn’t been suddenly surprised by a puddle of blood on the bed (or couch), post-shag? Or, for those of us that know a good orgasm is the best way to alleviate painful cramps, what about those bloodbaths that occur during mid-menses’ sex? Or the specks of blood that might appear during a particularly hard whipping, perhaps? (Though I’d argue, for my own part, that if there are any more than a few light welts on my arse U R DOIN IT RONG).
So when you wake up in the morning to find fresh streaks of blood on the sheets and duvet, and you’re not due for your period for some weeks, and you’ve had no more than a firm hand spank you, and, after checking, you’re sure that you’re not bleeding from any orifice or bodily surface, it’s fair to say that you might be a little confused. Well I was, anyway; it was clear that something – someone – was bleeding.
“I think I’ve figured out where the blood came from,” he hollered from the bathroom.
“Oh? Where?” I called out from under the duvet, still curled up snug in bed.
“My back,” he replied. “You practically ripped one of my moles clean off.”
I pulled my hand out from the warmth of the duvet and looked at my fingers: my nails were pretty short as they always are (all the better for wanking* – and for sticking up boys’ bums), how could I have caused him to be so badly injured?
“Really?” I asked, as he walked back into the bedroom.
“Yup, “ he replied. “No worries, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
I made him turn around so I could peek at his back and was dismayed to see – what remained of – one of his moles ragged and bleeding.
“Oh god, I’m sorry! It looks like it might fall off. Let me put a plaster on it, stop it getting infected.”
I returned a moment later, Band Aid in hand, and attached it carefully to the small gash on his back.
“I feel awful,” I said. “I can’t believe I wounded you! How the hell did I do that?”
“I think you dug your nails deeply into me every time you climaxed.”
I frowned, confused. “But surely it must have hurt? Why didn’t you say something, or stop me?”
He smiled. “It did hurt, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself so much it was worth it to suffer a little pain.”
I laughed. “Thanks, I was definitely enjoying it. But I didn’t realise I was hurting you!”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, heat of passion and all that.”
“OK,” I said, kissing him gently. “But next time I’ll try not to inflict any more damage.” Or leave the task of scrubbing the sheets with soda crystals to you, alone.
*Which is why I cannot stand porn that includes female performers who have long acrylic nails: they're the antithesis to real –good– sex, and a flag to me that what I'm seeing onscreen is bullshit and fake.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Five
Today is the five-year anniversary of this blog. Happy birthday to me. I was considering ‘celebrating’ today with a New Year’s-type post about all that I’ve learned in 2008; or about the personal struggles I have had to contend with; or with news about the book and other things, but somehow it just feels trite to summarize the aspects of my life over the past year that have had a huge impact on me. Let’s just conclude that I am busy, up-and-down, and hopeful for what 2009 might bring. (And if you want to keep up with my boring day-to-day moaning you can always follow me on Twitter.)
I am in the midst of writing another, much longer, post about casual sex, which I’ll be putting up here shortly, but in the meantime, and with a certain New Year’s reflectiveness, I thought I would briefly mention something I just had a quiet realisation about. It’s of no importance (or interest, even) to anyone else, but for me it feels like some kind of ironic serendipity and perhaps even mildly profound, so I wanted to note it down here.
All the men whom I’ve met in the last couple of years and become intimate with and have cared about I met solely through this blog. If it weren’t for my writing it, I wouldn’t be lucky enough to count amongst my close friends a small handful of men who’ve touched me. And yes, I do mean that literally. I can honestly say that I never expected the blog to impact my personal life in positive ways at all and I am very pleased it has. So with this fifth blog-birthday, I guess I want to express how thankful I am for the happiness it has given me, and that I'm looking forward to how it might influence particular aspects of my life in this new year…