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added: Tue, 25th April 2006 | 309 views | 0x in favourites
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erotica, fiction and personal reflection
One thing I've been reluctant to believe or swallow, especially with a small percentage of sex bloggers, is how a portion of them, according to their blogs, can have multiple orgasms and a high libido when they're taking Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, etc). This group of medication wreaks havoc on the libido. It dampens the orgasm and also delays the arousal response.The only reason I'm aware of this is because I've had a one year relationship with Zoloft that I'm coming out of, and I may be less than a fortnight into the breakup, but the half-life of medication like Zoloft is fifty percent; it wasn't impossible for me to return to the pre-Zoloft orgasms in slightly less than two weeks. Now, a few people may dispute my observation about these drugs. I guess it would contradict their supposed sexual virtuosity, something I doubt the existence of and even if it exists its diluted or hampered by the over abundance of serotonin that these drugs enable. If you have a good load of serotonin lingering, there's no real need to up the load. Hence, libido isn't as strong. Orgasms aren't as powerful, and over time, say a year, one feels strangely asexual. One thing I found embarassing, that I didn't address publicly was the fact that I was sent a sex toy to review and I simply couldn't review it. Such was my tragic Zoloft induced libido. Now, I can work on that review and not fret.Then you have other drugs, such as benzodiazepams, and they're just as erratic - their side effects don't encourage on/off usage. Erratic usage produces behavioural side effects.What a world, huh? Filled with pharma alternatives. If life is supposed to be sooooooooo grand, then why are people more anxious, angry or depressed? In my case, Zoloft worked for workplace induced anxiety and anger, but one year in, and it was time to stop taking it. I asked my GP weeks ago about the duration of Zoloft, how long it should be in my life and he said, "It doesn't matter. People can take it for years." Wow. I didn't want to feel like a dormant human for that long. It wasn't about the orgasms and more about the creative aspect.For one year, I'd have to force myself to write a bawdy short story. Almost two weeks after stopping Zoloft, and I jumped to my feet to begin a short erotic story in the wee hours of this morning. This couldn't happen six or four months ago. I'd have to force myself. Imagine the near impossibility of creating erotic imagery for short stories. And it wasn't the erotic. It affected other writing areas. The alternative position that Telstra corp offered me, wasn't beyond my capability but I don't like 'containement' policies; companies quote 'EEO' practice, but they don't have to adhere to said practices if they want to cover up their misbehaviour. Resigning, for me, meant avoiding the chance of popping Zoloft in...
It took me a day and a bit to get my head around the fact that I've freaked out a few people around me as well as freed myself from the corporate treadmill. Friends and acquaintances were agog at my announcement. But what will I do in this 'uncertain' climate? If I hear the word 'uncertain' one more time in relation to the global economy I'll fart a symphony. As far as I'm concerned, everything is uncertain. And if there is any 'certainty' it's of our own creation and it may work, but most of the certainty I see around me is the mundane routine. Things that have to be done for the sake of doing them. Even so, uncertainty is a constant. It's all around us. You can slip in the shower and remove yourself from the human gene pool. Anyway, the things... Sat my arse at cafes, two days running, in the city as office types dashed about. Became acquainted with the PS3 and games like Fallout 3. Snapped pictures of my three kitties during their cheeky antics. Slept off the post-Zoloft headaches and nausea. I can't believe that I'm starting 2009 ciggie free, Zoloft free and corporate hellhole free.
I don't like television adverts about feminine hygiene products because they're insipid piles of shite created by advertising blokes without a clue. In Australia, we've had a TV ad for Kotex tampons that features a woman and a beaver. No crap.The other irritating thing is the voice over referring to the vagina as 'down there.' It's become the most complained about television commercial, and I can't say that its irritation factor has made me switch tampon brands. The stereotypes that accompany fem-hygiene products on TV are a joke. The three things/themes that shit me to tears: Cliche 'dumb' males asking their girlfriends about their tampons, 'what are these?' The group of BFF's with white cotton jeans or white swimwear who are like superheroes when they use brand X tampons. Animal euphemisms for vagina, like the Kotex beaver (more like the male ad execs being TWATS for coming up with it)
There are plenty of things wrong about paying an alleged heiress (I'd read that her grandpa disinherited her, so that technically doesn't make her an heiress) oodles of cash (rumoured to be anything from one hundred to six hundred grand) to attend a NYE event on the other side of the world. Especially during these crappy economic times. Then again, it's not my money, the cash is associated to new Aussie web site Bongo, a site for lazy arses to pay for answers to trivial questions (like where birds go to die; like that'll change your life). I can't say that I feel sorry for greedy bimbos, who have media representatives try to cook up feelgood stories about their charges, like the recent stunt detailing Paris' supposed visit to sick children at a children's hospital. Clearly, that's something she can do in the United States, but she never does.The latest, all the way from Downunder, is that a driver on his way to pick up Hilton (to transfer her to the Sheraton on the Park hotel) was arrested. Police found cocaine (surprise, surprise), Viagra and Normison (perhaps to sleep off the effects of cocaine?) on the driver. What makes the story even more spicy or seedy, is that the driver's car is registered to Kings Cross nightclub identity and pretty boy John Ibrahim. What is there to say? People are really stupid. According to the report:"Gulasi's driver's licence had also allegedly expired. He was taken to Waverley police station where he was breath-tested again, and registered a blood alcohol limit under the legal limit. He was charged with possessing a prohibited drug, allegedly cocaine, two counts of possessing or attempting to possess a prescribed restricted substance, allegedly Viagra and Normison, as well as driving with an expired licence."Now you'd think that a clever host/boss would ensure that a driver (henchman? lol) was sober and have a current driver's licence. Scandal, like shit, tends to stick wherever Hilton tends to roam and it's no real surprise. It's not like she is visiting this country for any altruistic motive. It's pure greed and the latest crap isn't a surprise. Call it karmic comeuppance? Hilton is so freaking sad that she has to audition girls for a BFF; what is sadder is a bunch of hormonally overloaded men paying a hefty sum to bring in 2009. It only adds a certain amount of trashiness to Sydney. Like they couldn't find home grown celebrities to promote their business venture. Then again, it's not like they'd be able to convince someone like Elle MacPherson (who is in Australia) to attend their party. Rewind back to the time she got out of jail for her DUI, due to her 'name'/fame, and how she bullshitted her way through many media reports detailing her new life, and (supposed) future good deeds that haven't come to pass? We're only three days into 2009, and the events/news stories, are amusing, disturbing and strange. What will the remainder of the year...
Modern life isn't without its absurdities, little things that take become a regrettable part of life. For example, if you work for a super-dooper large company, and you hand in your written resignation, you have to wait for a response that is a yay or nay. Like anyone really gives a merde about a company accepting a resignation. If you want to leave, you leave but receiving the 'we accept your resignation' as a response is frigging hilarious. What adds to the hilarity is the procedural aspect.It's not a win, not in the sense of receiving some corporate key to a gilt lav, but there is never any win-win situation following an employee whistle-blow. People who think they'll address situations, who - by way of their approach - will lead to recommendations being made, aren't really changing a culture that reigns (and seethes when people step out of line), are better off looking for work life elsewhere than flogging the constipated corporate horse.Friends and acquaintences, those I run into, tend to resort to the usual conversation starters in the form of 'what are you doing these days?' or 'where do you work?' and when I tell them I have no definite corporate regimen, they eye me like a freak. It seems that there is a silent law relating to economic upheavals and taking a stand against a job you can't stand. And it's the simplest stand, borne from a simple choice. I just can't get why I didn't do it months ago. Maybe it's my own deep seated ideas that stemmed from the usual social norms. I don't know. All I know is that I received confirmation that the resignation is 'accepted'. Thank the good lord, huh? What would I do if it was rejected? Slash my wrists?The other thing I know...Life is too short for shitty jobs.Now I'm free to catch up on other things, without feeling uneasy.
Commencing change on New Year's Day is a lot like starting the diet on Monday. It's futile. People tend to fail miserably, and because they fail, they go on and on about it and I feel like telling them to shut the hell up. In the beginning, I'd be kind and sympathetic. Years later, after noting the repeated failures, due to silly New Year's resolutions, I'm over it. I believe on thing: If a person wants to make a change, they begin at that moment. Quit smoking? Do it right that very day. Quit drinking? Same. Quit junk food...same thing. Frankly, I've never understood people that note down 'quit' days on their calendar. What is the point of waiting six months to quit smoking or any other noxious habit?The other day, I decided to cease the Zoloft. I reached the final tablet on Christmas Eve, and thought...screw it. After one year on Zoloft, I felt like my brain was holed up in a vault. Everything is so tepid. Other days, I feel like I need to dig around for alternative words. I ask myself where everything (word wise) went? I didn't decide to wait for an answer, I decided to stop the damned tablets. My life didn't depend on the tablets. I'm sure if I had talk-therapy, if therapists were actually bothered to talk to people rather than prescribe drugs, I would not have needed meds during that time but today's therapists, especially psychiatrists, cannot be bothered. Pharmaceutical companies claim that they have solved personal issues and the individual response to stress.From Boxing Day until now, and I think a few days from now, I've been wrestling with the major after effect. One that I didn't expect. I've had the freaking runs. Today, as I shopped for cat food in the supermarket, my stomach cramped. It was the red alert. I told housemate that I had to leave. He had to deal with the cat food because I'd crap myself if I didn't make the run for it. Lucky for me, I live a few doors away from the supermarket. It took a couple of days for me to realize that the after effects began to unfold. I thought I had a bug, that I ate something bad. One quick survey at home confirmed that I was the only one experiencing a case of the runs. I've had to be on alert for unexpected signals from my large and small intestine (bastards!). The only positive thing, one that makes me feel better is that I won't be on the nicotine or the meds at New Year. Why wait until then to stop the crap? The final thing to sort is the supposed job offer at my workplace that came after a year's wait. After thinking about it, and the fact that companies can ignore equal opportunity policies whenever it suits them, I've decided to send in the resignation letter and be done with it. I've applied for other jobs. I've...
To everyone out there:Merry Xmas and onward to 2009
People love indicators. Indicators are supposed to represent safety or predictability. Predictable things/events are supposed to indicate safety. Now I don't get the appeal of predictability. It's also the harbinger of boredom/ennui/stunted development. It's the opposite of creativity. Anyway, the other thing that I've noticed or thought about - now that I'm not busy shoving smokes in my mouth I'm thinking (that's a joke) - is this economic climate and how men, yes men, because men are socialized this way, i.e. it's not their genetic fault, is that blokes enter the reductionalist zone. They need a definite explanation that will create a door to predictability. Economies are always in a state of flux. Depressions occur, and I believe that's the nature of the stock market. If it was definite, it would be boring and people (ie most blokes) would be able to control it like a Playstation. No one really knows, and the latest article that quotes yet another bloke, a financial analyst, discussing the cosmetic factor as a definite indicator: Dhaval Joshi, an analyst with RAB Capital, said that the recent sales figures from the world's big cosmetic companies - L'Oreal, Beiersdorf and Shiseido - confirmed that the so-called lipstick effect had returned as the global economy headed into its first synchronised downturn since the early 1980s, with consumers increasing their spending on cosmetics even while economising on everything else. What peeves me off about the above type of 'analysis' is that it's made by blokes about things that they can't really relate to -like lipstick. It's like me analyzing the dynamics of a penis. What would I bloody know? I don't have a penis. Now I'm not surprised why hundreds of financial analysts were made redundant by Macquarie Bank here in Sydney. They reach the most surprising conclusions and no, decreased cosmetic sales DO NOT MEAN a downturn.WOMEN KNOW HOW TO IMPROVISE. WOMEN ARE FLEXIBLE.Seriously, where would the world be if women didn't exist? Women know how to behave in a crisis. Instead of heading out to buy another lipstick, they stop and say, "Right, I have five lipsticks, that will last me a year, I'll purchase a new refrigerator instead."Who says that shopping has decreased? Only a financial analyst like Dhaval Joshi. Talk about a one-track mind, and unfortunately, without wanting to 'sound' mean. men do have a one-track mind. They don't tend to think in terms of trees and branches. And if that's not enough annoying observation, how else did the world get into this financial shagpile? You tell me the proportion of male to female financial types in stocks, banking, loans, huh? Aside from the biological differences or the penis and vagina aspects, there are no huge differences between the sexes apart from men being socialized to throw money at a problem (based on all my personal observations of men in relationships, workplaces and everyday life) in the form of, hey let's just give people who can't afford massive loans, home loans so they can...
If there is a quote for the recent financial era, the below quote has to be it. It's a killer of a quote. It is from the heiress that makes Paris Hilton look like a supermarket checkout chick, L'Oreal's Liliane Bettencourt. Liliane said (of her 1 billion dollar gift to a photographer):"What I gave to Francois-Marie Banier, although it is a large sum, is really not that much when put in proportion."She's right when she mentions proportion (her fortune is estimated at 20 billion plus). It's her money, and if her Liliane's daughter is getting a 30% share of L'Oreal, what the hell? Some people are so frigging stingy!
Keeping a job during this financial phase may be considered lucky/fortunate or whatever else and my little whine or introspective thoughts may create misunderstanding, but even though I managed to retain my job and successfully receive a transfer to a different department, I didn't feel like a winner.It's difficult to be a winner or consider oneself a 'winner' after being a whistleblower of sorts within one's department or company section. The fact that my tenacity (almost 12 months) concluded with a transfer only confirms my view of certain things or values that I disagree with.Days after the job confirmation, and I feel like I've stepped into the pissy puddle of nepotism. Even though the news of a successful transfer was thought to be wonderful on the homefront, even I went through five seconds of optimism, the crappy shadow dawned, morphed into an ugly vulture and perched on my shoulder. I haven't been transferred to the particular department I've been transferred to based on my achievements (over the last year) or knowledge (I've been away for a year and had to cope with two idiotic managers whose idea of training was slavery for more than a year). It feels as though I've been transferred so I can 'shut up'. So I don't point out the obvious or the lack of scruples within a company, and it's partially my fault - I was the one who requested a transfer from the beginning, but in true 'careful-what-you-wish-for' mode I've received a bogus reward that will blossom into another Groundhod like Day.Returning to a department, that communicates with the usual departments, including the section I was previously working in, is going to be another sequel to last year - pointing out harassment, writing a letter of complaint and reporting the incident to take time off, and return to the same section where the trouble started. People didn't like me much. In fact, they didn't speak to me unless they had to. A colleague can be a complete cunt to you, but if that employee has worked there longer, has successfully sucked up to everyone - managers included - then they hold sway. Other employees avoid you like the plague once they know you've been a vocal individual who doesn't like to take shit from assholes. It's funny really. If I were an executive, I wouldn't be going through the usual crap but the law differs for shitkickers.It isn't a surprise to return to a minor bout of insomnia over the weekend. Yes, the transfer has weighed on my mind so much that I've begun scouring job adverts online. I've sent out a few applications for jobs that expire early next year and I'm crossing my fingers.The final irony, something that had me shake my head like a cartoon character, relates to my main observation, one that I noted and dispatched in letter form - the unfairness within the company. Being relocated to a section that is beyond my experience level, without a formal interview/selection...
There is a lot of sex research out there and because there is a glut of sex research, writing and surveys, one needs a new angle. How does one get people hooked on an article? How does one invoke a 'OMG!' response in a reader or frazzled adult?I have reached the sadness of finding sex surveys funny. I no longer think, 'oh gee, I have to read that because it may change my life.' The advantage of having a -depending on your culture/social circle - largish sample population of ex partners, one night stands, mistakes and so on, is the reality that some adults continue to hide like a pungent crap in cat litter.Sex is sex people and after a while, it can lose its mojo. If a relationship is based on 90 parts sexual attraction, it's going to die a horrible death (all the more horrible due to denial). That's it. I'm old enough not to sugar coat it but I still laugh when male sociologists/scientists whatever the hell they are come up with more 'sex trivia.'How long do these researchers THINK I'll be looking for bodily quirks that are supposed to be similar to crystal balls (pun intended! shit yeah!). Now, in the 21st century, 2008 specifically, women are supposed to check out how their 'paramour/lover/partner/one nighter' sneezes.Yes, the sneeze. What? Did you think it related to the discovery of a 'Sex God' gene? That wouldn't be politically correct but the sneeze, an ordinary event we see every day or every other day? Why not? I don't know how these male (yes male, because they're male goddamn it and their observations are just so SILLY) think.I sneeze whenever I take a pair of tweezers to my brows. As I'm trimming straggly hairs, I sneeze. In fact, I sneeze at least twenty frigging times per eyebrow and, trust me, I don't find tweezing hairs sexually exciting. Where do these doctors come from? I'd like to know. What plane of thought do they reside in? They can't figure out why people sneeze, so they think, 'uh-huh maybe it's sex!' It tends to play into the stereotypical 'Typical male' response.
I've never really thought smoking men sexy, attractive, sexually exciting or anything. The only reason I'd date (or sleep with) smoker males related to our common interests - smoking. The advantages (if they can be called advantages) of dating smoking men when I smoked related to one thing: they didn't bust my chops about smoking or judge me based on my shitty habit. That was it.From James Dean to Arnold Schwarzenegger (his penchant for cigars), men didn't smoke in films to be 'sexy', they did it to advertise tobacco products. I believe that if James Dean didn't crash his car, he'd be included in the list of tobacco related Hollywood deaths that include Yul Brynner, Audrey Hepburn and Paul Newman. Besides, you have to admit that being caught mid-drag looks awful. It doesn't matter if it's James Dean or Brad Pitt, being photographed with cat arse lips as you're sucking smoke, looks stupid - which was why, strangely enough, I'd never walk and smoke in the street. It's desperate or pathetic enough to smoke, but nothing says 'I'm desperate' than walking and giving a cigarette a blowjob. There is nothing sophisticated about that. I spent two days in the city, and the eyesores that riled me? Asian tourists smoking like gangbusters. Don't get me wrong, but it's a standard observation. They may be wealthy tourists but having tobacco scented designer clothes ranging from Gucci to Chanel, doesn't make them smart or sophisticated when it stinks of stale tobacco. During my two days, I bumped into a male acquaintance (that smokes like gangbusters, surprisingly having the energy to roll his own) who, upon finding out I've butted out, went on and on about the pleasure of smoking. Some, not all, smokers go on the defensive each time they find out one of their (supposedly) 'own' has quit. Mind, I don't go on at them but I do have to provide an answer when they're offering me a cigarette and when I do, they're 'oh yeah?' Not only this, there are a few of housemate's male friends who think they're in the throes of seduction, thinking they'll seduce me to rejoin the stinky tobacco side. They immediately step into their Don Juan costume and say stupid things like, "C'mon let's go outside," nudge-nudge-wink-wink, thinking I'll step out of a restaurant or cafe to have a smoke with them, like they're King Beef. They don't get the fact that cigarettes don't add 'sexy' points, and it's quite remarkable really because I thought that adults would grow out of that stupid adolescent illusion associated with smoking.The only time I put a cigarette in my mouth to feel somewhat grown up or to ape what 'grown ups' did was when I was a kid - the Tatum O'Neal, Paper Moon moment. Throughout my adulthood, smoking wasn't about looking like I stepped out of Breakfast at Tiffany's, it was about having that smoke to somehow make that five minutes pass by. It became a self created...
I'm not going to use the term 'uncertain' and link it with 'times' because enough crap is unfolding around the corporate traps. Like all other major cities, Sydney has experienced a financial exodus, with a large number of financial jobs made redundant. At the company I work at, I expected to be made redundant, but finally - I don't know if you can call it luck - my work situation is sorted, and I'll be returning to work within a different department in 2009.I'm looking at the positives, working being the means to the end. For me, that means continuing with projects in 2009 (e.g. Lucrezia Magazine, which has been my major concern). The financial nightmare has been a pain in my posterior in many ways, and I'm not the type to transform into the 'non paying' publisher, but things have been stretched over the last fortnight, but this week I've finally had the work situation sorted. It took 12 months, but it's finally done.In other areas, my semi-holiday ends in the first week of January next year. I'll be returning to the day job, but will still be working on other projects. My only relief, I suppose, is that I'll be in a completely different building to my previous colleagues. I can't find the words that pinpoint my elation, however being in a new section requires learning new tricks and I feel that next year will be better, financially - thank Christ, because when finances are unpredictable, life tends to be unpredictable in the non-exciting/challenging kind of way.
Fur…Once considered a symbol of wealth, now considered a symbol of ostentation, cruelty, capriciousness and hypocrisy. I’ve noticed that a new campaign, promoting the virtues of fur in addition to ‘sustainable’ fur production (I already thought it was sustainable via the establishment of farms) is making appearances in UK glossies (Vanity Fair, Vogue, etc). This campaign/group/label, yes it even has a silly trademark, is called Origin Assured (Trade Mark) and its statement strangely reminds me of a tobacco company.the new Origin Assured™ (OA) label gives consumers confidence about the provenance of the fur they are buying. It is an assurance that the fur comes from a country where national or local regulations or standards governing fur production are in force. It is also a reflection of the fur trade’s commitment to openness and honesty with their customers. Fur – the natural, responsible choice.In the Guardian, journalist Lucy Siegle asks, "Is fur slowly becoming acceptable?" Products do undergo reinvention. I tend to view reinvention as the last attempt at reanimation, kind of like adding life in an aged/aging commodity. Take Madonna as a prime example. Now when organisations like Origin Assured say stuff like, "Fur - the natural, responsible choice," I feel like asking, "How responsible?" Are they going to explain the origin of fur to a young child? It's like cigarettes. When tobacco companies go on and on about their 'niceness'. Are they going to explain why they add an addictive drug in their product that keeps smokers addicted until they see sense or die?Fur makes sense in countries that experience nightmarish low temperatures during winter, but there is no goddamn sense to see a celebrity wearing fur in places like California. Victoria Beckham, to me, is a fashion eyesore and when she dons fur in California, I want to ask her who she's trying to kid: Californians or herself? Perhaps a bit of both.I'm not a vegan and I'm not an anti-fur zealot. If I was living in Iceland, I'd probably have one fur coat, but it would be about keeping me warm than anything else. Besides, I live in Australia. There is no real use for a fur coat in Australia, not unless you're some arty-farty poseur who wants to brag about personal wealth - something that speaks volumes about tackiness.In literature, the most famous novel that features furs is, of course, Venus in Furs. Written in a bygone era, by an author who was known more for his mental breakdown than anything else, whose surname - like de Sade's - gave rise to the classification of one personality trait. The novel's importance isn't the fur but the level the male character will stoop to acquire his love, a love that mistreats him.The reason behind wearing fur is, at best, furry. The Origin Assured (TM) campaign is also about keeping business alive. There is that aspect as well. Groups like PETA may be opposed to anything involving fur, including wool (they've successfully campaigned, like zealots, to tamper with...
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