Susie Bright's Journal

Erotic Audio of the Week: The Letters

Last night I watched a ho-hum movie about a naughty, evil schoolgirl: The Hole. With a name like that, you have high hopes!

However, it reminded me that one of my favorite high-maintenance, cunt-tease schoolgirl stories is finally out on Best American Erotica audiobooks. What a relief.

It's called "The Letters," by Eric Albert, from Best American Erotica 1996.

Listen to The Letters:

Read by Theo McKell.

Get the whole Best American Erotica 96: Link

 

If you pin my braids to the wall, I'll confess to you that BAE 96 is my personal favorite anthology of all that I've edited. I don't know exactly why, it's just more of those stories got under Catholic collar. It says more about me than it does about the year!

That (Pink) Dog Won't Hunt

Dick Cheney seems to have released an all-points-bulletin to his party that if one more person so much as sneezes the word "g-a-y," he is going to stick his fist so deep in their ass they'll never walk the light of day again.

Consider the following peculiar events:

1.

Rep. Marilyn Musgrave and Senator Wayne Allard of Colorado, have just announced that they will NOT be introducing the anti-gay "ban gay marriage" constitutional amendment this Congress.  That's gotta be a first.

These two Moral Majority stinkbots have existed for little reason other than raising anti-gay legislation— no matter how futile. Now, suddenly, they've grown meek and  don't think their legislation can "go anywhere" right now. Sounds like Daddy sent a memo!

2.

CNN's Wolf Blizer asked Cheney after the State of the Union speech to comment on the gay bashing evangelicals who've criticized his daughter's public lesbian relationship and impending motherhood—  they've been pretty mean.

Cheney reacted by being shocked that Wolf would imply his daughter was gay in the first place. Wolf was noticeably flustered, since Mary Cheney has been the First Lesbian  for quite some time. But the VP acted like he had taken a shit on the floor.

3.

Perhaps the tweakiest moment was a few weeks ago, when Senator Barbara Boxer criticized Condi Rice about the White House's "stay the course" military policy.

You'll remember that Boxer said that even though neither she nor Condi had children to worry about in the service, they had to think about everyone else who did. Cheesy? Yes.

But the GOP flipped out that Barb had just called out Condi as a Lesbo and started papering the town with denunciations and defenses for Condi's noble spinsterhood.  It was so breathless and desperate that the whole country turned around and said, "Oh my god, they way they're acting... I guess she is a friend of Dorothy's after all?"

I think that's when the pink worm turned. GOP hacks finally realized that every time they open their mouth and a dyke or fag drop out, they're the ones who get stuck with the Kodak moment.

I broadcast a couple weeks ago, "I can't imagine how the lavender card can be played in the next elections. If one more Republican mentions something off-color about gay life, the first thing that’s going to pass through everyone’s mind is: he’s queer. Gay-bashing is the new GAY...

"Mainstream Xtians are beside themselves as being portrayed as lunatics who think the world was whipped up on Noah’s ark with Jesus and a couple giraffes. If they never hear the phrase gay marriage again, it will be too soon."

Finally, in yesterday's news cycle (tip o' the hat to John Aravoisis and Pam Spaulding) a  conservative New Mexico daily paper writes an editorial:

Republicans: Stop Thinking About Gay Sex

It seems to me Republicans spend more time thinking about gay sex than any other group of people in the known world even more so than gay people trying to find other gay people with whom to have sex.

The author of this great editorial claims not to be a Communist at the end of his rant. But notice— he didn't say he wasn't gay.  See, it really is a new world.

 

The best person to read if you want to follow all the ins and outs of this sex-panic-shuffle, is John Aravosis' AmericaBlog. That's where I discovered nearly all the stories I mentioned above. Mr. A. doesn't miss a trick. Photo: novelist Mike Peterson.

I Can't Wait to See Who Moved In

When I wake my MacBook up from its sleep, it doesn't always immediately home onto our shared household DSL connection.

We live across the street from a major office hub, and there's dozens of neighbors these days with high speed connections.

Like tonight, it asked me:

None of your trusted wireless networks can be found. Would you like to join the open wireless network named "gayanalfrottage"?

To Have.. and To Have Some More

"What's the first and last things you think about, when you're about to have sex?"

I admit I'm not sure I have a "last thought."  I'm so impatient, I go from Vamanos! to post-coital smoke rings without a lot of deep breaths in-between.

Okay, maybe I'm not quite so rash anymore; it's been a while since anyone called me Susie Homebreaker.My answers to Part Two of our "In Bed Sex Survey" have changed over time and circumstance, and I wonder if yours have too!

In Bed with Susie Bright 279: Sex Survey Double-Down

Excerpt- (4:39):
 

 

In the second half of our show,  I look back on the final big sex story of 2006, the one that nearly got away, barely released  before Christmas with little media comment.

It's the latest Guttmacher Institute sex report: Link.

After interviewing tens of thousands of subjects, mostly women, of all ages, they prove that premarital sex is nearly universal among Americans, and has been for generations.

The mind reels.

 

...Contrary to the public perception that premarital sex is much more common now than in the past, the study shows that even among women who were born in the 1940s, nearly nine in 10 had sex before marriage.

The new study uses data from several rounds of the federal National Survey of Family Growth to examine sexual behavior before marriage, and how it has changed over time.

According to the analysis, by age 44, 99% of respondents had had sex, and 95% had done so before marriage. Even among those who abstained from sex until age 20 or older, 81% had had premarital sex by age 44.

“This is reality-check research. Premarital sex is normal behavior for the vast majority of Americans, and has been for decades,” says study author Lawrence Finer, director of domestic research at the Guttmacher Institute.

“The data clearly show that the majority of older teens and adults have already had sex before marriage, which calls into question the federal government’s funding of abstinence-only-until-marriage programs for 12–29-year-olds.

"It would be more effective to provide young people with the skills and information they need to be safe once they become sexually active—which nearly everyone eventually will.

How is this going to affect prices for Purity Rings?

All of this would be nobody's business except that for Bush's $500 million abstinence program for 19-29 year olds... I just don't know how he manages to squeeze it out of the Pentagon budget!

Finally, in my Try This at Home mailbag, I offers some career advice to a woman who wants to break into the sex expert business. Bring your waders, honey!

(Episode 279, January 26, 2007). Remember, you can always send questions to me for the show, or ask me to send you some free "Girly Cards" (one month In Bed with me for for free). Just write to Susie at Audible, and put "Girly Card" or "Show Question" in the Subject Line.  Photo: Bogie and Bacall weigh the possibilities in To Have and Have Not.

 

Latvian Boys Make Me Scream and Shout

FCUK! (Like the tshirt says). These boys drive me crazy. I've been meaning to share this parkour video forever; and then I got a little timid— "Maybe everyone has seen it already." But if you love parkouristas, you could watch it all day long, and for most of the world, it's still entirely unknown.

Yes, parkour is the same thing as "free-running" (a Dutch nickname). But it's sexier in French, and that's what this is, really, a sex video. These kind of street breaks are what inspired the opening scene of Casino Royale,  which stars one of the parkour originals, Sebastien Foucan. (Can you spell Daniel Craig/Sebastien threeway?)

However, it's the above uncredited inspiration that was the first parkour I saw; the first time I imagined a human body could do such things. Afterwards, I went wild clicking every parkour link, but I finally realized it's THESE boys, THIS post-Soviet ghost-town ghetto, THIS music— and perhaps most of all, the mysterious presence behind the camera who managed to make something this powerful that transcends language and skeletons.

What is known? The perps call themselves "The Dvinsk Clan," from Latvia. The main rubberman is named Oljeg. The music is: Rob Dougan's Clubbed To Death from The Matrix OST, Bouga/ Akhenaton's Belsunce Breakdown, and Si Triste by Le 3Eme Oeil. Every other detail I must leave up to you!

Get Your Fetus Feet Out of My Bank Drawer

A feminist bank teller in Seattle reports she nearly fell off her stool recently when a customer came in bearing a personal check emblazoned with "the precious feet of an unborn child."

I had no idea that you could order your own box of Pro-Life checks— and then pass them without incident.

What if I'd like personal checks that show off the feet of American soldiers in Iraq? Or maybe the hands and feet of grown men and women rotting in prison on pointless drug charges? I might be partial to a belly shot of citizens who manage to live but are awfully hungry.

I remember when colorful personal checks first became available to American shoppers. I was in grade school, and I urged my mom to buy the ones with colorful sunsets and balloons sailing over daisy-stuffed meadows. Those were the days when I sang ad jingles all day like "The Closer He Gets, The Better You Look" without a trace of self-consciousness.

Mom snorted and said she would not spend one dime on anything except a plain blue register. She wasn't the only one nonplussed— remember those satires of "Bank of Amerika" checks?  They were underground poster facsimiles that showed searing antiwar scenes blown up as bank drafts.

The choices are dizzying at the Fetus Feet web hub. You can buy Purity/Abstinence checks (Love Waits!), extra-spicy Pro-Life "Zingers," and even a selection called "The Day the Angels Cried"— that's apparently 9-11, in case you're not crying already. A more maudlin variety pack you'll not find anywhere.

My next move was to search for feminist, progressive, or even anarchist checks and accessories, all to no avail. The closest thing I found was "Tie-Dyed." That was shown next to checks with Smiley Faces on them. There's something about designer checks that appeals to the infantile and the conservative.

Apparently you needn't have any hesitation to push your fundie-corn-nut message every time you pay a gas bill, but other sentiments are taboo. I would break down and PAY for Flying Spaghetti Monster checks, wouldn't you? The day a bank offers me have a Clits Up! ATM card, I'm signing up.

It's Not Just You— It Really Is The Worst Day of the Year

According to the latest and brightest mathematical formulas, today sucks.

Yes, today is very likely the date that Dorothy Parker wrote:

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

According to the Late January Biochemists, today's formula for perfect misery is: 1/8W+(D-d) 3/8xTQ MxNA.

Works like a charm, doesn't it?

W is the foul weather. D is your insane amount of debt. T is the time passed since your meltdown at Christmas. I'm not sure— because confidence isn't my strong suit this month— but I believe the M is for the New Year's resolution motivations you've given up on.

Studies show that if you were a butterball chain-smoking dope fiend on the first of the month, you really haven't budged an inch.

There's a remedial web site to advise you on how to beat these Late-Juno Blues, but I'm not going to link it here. It's too depressing.

"Run a mile," it says. "Write a list of everything you should be grateful for." "Curl up and watch The Sound of Music."

How 'bout if I ring up whoever compiled this list and tell them to FUCK OFF?  I'm smiling already.

I have my own suggestions. Lay down the noose, darling, and try this out:

1. Subscribe to my blog.

2. In return, I'll send you a free copy of Best American Erotica 2007, lovingly autographed.

3. Plus, I'll send you a Clits Up! button because I Wuv You.

Come one, come all— how can you pass up an autographed copy of the brand-spanking-new Best American Erotica 2007, where you can read about "The Lolita Backlash" and lose yourself in mindblowing short stories by authors like Octavia Butler, Dennis Cooper, Jessica Cutler, and Kathryn Harrison. If Dorothy Parker was alive, she'd eat this up! Get on it before next week, cause I might run out.

Why will this gimmick relieve your depression?

Giving to others always lifts your spirits. Secondly, when you receive a gift in return for your selfless generosity, your ego starts to swell. Finally, when that gift is something that no one else has yet because it's in advance of the official launch date, you get to be a smug member of a very exclusive club. BAE doesn't drop into stores until silly little February.

All of a sudden, late January is looking very sweet.

Here's the rules: (following odd little rules is also a helpful distraction from depression)

Subscribe to my blog for $5/month using Paypal: Link

You can "subscribe" as many times as you want.

Or, you can snail-mail me a donation check, for at least $7, to Susie Bright, Depression Special, P.O. Box 8377, Santa Cruz, CA 95061.

Whatever your method, follow up with an email to me, (Subject line: Depression Special), and give me your address like this:

Name
Address
City, ST ZIP

I will assemble the brown paper packages tied up with string and you'll be on your manic upswing in no time!

(If you're outside the US, send me your email, and I'll send you an ebook instead. I'm sorry, but the shipping costs and nosy prude customs officers ruin my earnest attempts to spoil you by snail mail).

WHY?— you ask, do I need subscriptions for this blog?  The rather convincing reasons are here: Link.

Now, everybody! Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...

Photo by the increasingly upbeat Nichole M. Song by the incandescent John Coltrane.

Give Me Three Things You Want In Bed

I noodled away a couple hours this month taking internet sex surveys— yes, I am a "Survey Sucker." The results have me thinking about what I really mean when I say I want to have sex. What is it I'm planning, or hoping, exactly?

I realized the answer is different  depending on whether I'm having sex with a familiar lover, a new "conquest," or just me and the hot tub jet. 

I had some fun unfolding my answers, and I'd love to hear yours too!

In Bed with Susie Bright 278: Survey Says

Listen to an excerpt:   

In the second part of my show, I look at some of the political sex scandals of the past year and do a little crystal ball gazing. Care to join me?

The Grand Old Party has made their point, that "family values" are only for those who can't afford carte blanche. As dearly departed Art Buchwald said: "You can't make up anything anymore. The world itself is a satire. All you're doing is recording it."

Foley/Haggart/Cunningham et. al, screwed the pooch nicely. At this point, no Republican can attack gay marriage— or gay anything— without looking like the queerest toot ever. Gay-bashing, in the South Park vernacular, is looking so gay.

Can you believe that only last May, the Fundies were telling Bush that they'd abandon him in the midterm elections if he didn't crack down on porn, queers, and abortion? Gee, someone forgot to tell them they'd have to go on the same diet too; the closet just ain't what it used to be anymore.

What concerns me now is whether scandal only promotes cynicism, more cocooning and less reaching out. Permit me another Buchwald classic: "Whether it's the best of times or the worst of times, it's the only time we've got."

Finally, in my Try This at Home mailbag, a woman writes me to wonder if her ejaculation is cause for a marine warning or a pool party. I like to dive into the deep end, myself.

Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for Susie's Girly Cards to [email protected] (Episode 278, January 19, 2007).

Erotic Audio of the Week: Pearls of Wisdom

I have a couple of items in my jewelry box that make me feel lucky. There's something about pieces that close to your skin— your hands, your breasts, the tender part of your neck— that are weighted with erotic sentiment.

I always wanted to do that "Venus on a Half Shell "thing where I would walk out of the shorebreak in nothing but a lei of gems and golden strands.

My fantasies were further stoked when I heard Salome Wilde's story, "Granny Pearls." It's in my new audiobook, Best American Erotica 06.

She captivated me with her tale of a prissy little necklace who gets all mussed up and dragged through the gutter. Oh goodie!

Listen to "Granny Pearls": Link      read by Gabra Zackman

Check out the whole audiobook, Best American Erotica 2006: Link

 

For those of you who haven't listened to digital erotic audio before, here's my rap on what it's like, the price, the choices, the sexual deliberation!: Link

Photo: Why can't I have all the nipple jewelry by Hidden Delites?

Béatrice Needs a New Harness

My friend Béatrice got back from a Canadian vacation last week, and phoned to announce she'd had a sexual reawakening.

We both know she's been in a bit of an anerotic coma for the last year. She had chalked up her  inertia to hormones or intractable DNA, and had convinced all her friends and family that she just didn't give a darn about fucking after all.

Well.

Bee has now met a Prairie Professor who has turned her ennui on its ear, and she is so horny she can hardly breathe. She called me for advice, and it wasn't what I expected:

"I think I need to get a new harness, but I don't know where to begin!"

"A new dildo harness?"

"Yes, the last one I bought, I bought from you before I even knew you!"

"What do you mean? How did you know it was me, if you didn't know me?"

"It was twenty years ago! It was when you working in the old Good Vibes on 21st Street—"

"So what's wrong with the old one?"

"It's got rust on the rivets and maybe a little mold on the leather straps."

"Gross!"

"Yeah, but I love the way it fits on my ass.. maybe I could throw it in the washing machine?"

"How about Dryel? That's not going to work... I haven't thought about this aspect of archival sex toys before... I mean, you have one of the first leather dildo harnesses ever made for women— I bet it's one of Kathy Andrew's original designs that she sewed in basement on Sanchez St. with a Singer Featherweight."

"So it belongs in a museum... but I don't know how to buy a new one."

"Well, you're right, no one is going to yak it up with you about all the in's and out's like I did... it's more like buying stereo equipment now— Have you thought of a thigh harness?"

"No, what's that? I have great abdominals and I want to use them—"

"I don't care how great your abdominals are, your thigh muscle is the strongest single muscle in your body, and you can really control the fucking part a lot better than with the unicorn penis design hanging between your legs. I know everyone wants that look, but when you're actually screwing, no one can see anything anyway, it's all sensation."

"I really like the way this old one looks on my ass."

"Yeah, but you don't want mold on your ass or your new girlfriend's ass and the washing machine isn't going to work!— why is this so important, anyway?"

"She really likes to get fucked."

"Well, you live walking distance from Good Vibes now... I think you should just walk down there and tell them that."

Have you ever had to let go of a cherished erotic accessory? When do things actually have to be replaced? Is your sling worn down to a greasy shadow of its former self? Sex toys come of age; and then what? What say you?