Author of Breasts Don't Lie

Posts tagged ‘Lust’

Passionate Fifties

torsomore

Aren’t these beautiful people? Isn’t it lovely to have models that are not in their teens or twenties? Or even thirties or forties? Aren’t they sexy?

Being mid fifties myself, I wanted this image to reflect the passion and tenderness of a couple in their 50s. The fifties. When you like a teenager, not one thing or another, not young or old but in the place where things, bodies, ideas, and values are changing.

The fifties, an age where sexuality and love have different meanings, different entanglements, and different responsibilities. We’ve lost by this point – more than a few ideals, some vitality, some abilities, and some innocence. We’ve lost people we love by choice or by death.

But what we’ve gained. We are learning to really love – our lives, our bodies, and connections to each other. The wrinkles and cellulite can’t overshadow what we gain from a loving life.

A week ago, I was talking on the phone with a friend about his phrase, “right now.” I got a tad cranky and flustered thinking, “right now, what’s this right now shit? Are you crossing out the future?”

With uncharacteristic tact, I gently probed. He was talking about staying in the present as a way he didn’t get ahead of himself; overwhelm the potential of a situation. Well that made sense.

Last weekend, I was talking to a girlfriend and bemoaning our physical changes. We laughed acknowledging our insight. Finally we were learning patience, just as we were moving closer to the endpoint of our lives than to the beginning. Life is full of ironies – they smack you in the face screaming, “Wake up.”

Last year, I thought that I had made peace with the idea that my love life was probably finished. Seeing an image like this one reminds me of everything I have to give to a lover – bound up in my wrinkled, dissembling, and experienced self. Looking at their joyous lust, I see their compassion for each other and themselves. At last.

So I am waking up with an urge to create the tender love, compassion, and lust of this image. A big thanks to the models for reminding me of this value.

(Image is from a collaboration of stories and photographs with Andre Giovina titled “69 Scheimpflug Street”)

Marketing Scheimpflug’s Lust

Whitneyblog

The first part of our first photo shoot along with my first set of stories is finished. That’s a lot of firsts. AG shot images that are beautiful and disturbing. My stories are lush and arousing – I hope. Exactly what we were going for. We are excited. But now we need to market them, stir some excitement, get some buzz going, ____ (add the appropriate phrase here).

So I gathered notes about the usual forms of getting the word OUT THERE – and immediately thought, What’s up with the multiple layers of social media marketing brouhaha? I mean – Google +, LinkedIn, Twitter, FaceBook, and Tumblr.

Does anyone really understand what Google+ accomplishes that is different from anything else out there? Most writers are clueless about how to promote themselves and their work using this site.

“It seems like a cross between FaceBook and LinkedIn,” I said.

AG said, “So you’re on Google+?”

I said, “Yep, not sure what it does but hey, seems easy enough to use … “

So things, images, blog posts, and other doodads will go up there.

LinkedIn doesn’t seem like a good place to examine lust even using the Scheimpflug Principle – our project’s nudity and passion would be fighting other users’ glossy business pictures.

AG said, “So you’re not using LinkedIn?”

I said, “Nah, I’ve been thrown out of two discussion groups already. Seems like a wash for my type of writing.”

(Yes, I have been politely asked to stop responding to discussion groups run by a moron from Australia. She proposes women do not like sex. Maybe women don’t like sex in Australia but the women I know in the US like sex. I digress with crankiness.)

FaceBook is a possibility. I have personal and book pages – is that the correct word?

“We should make a new FB page,” said AG.

“Yep but both of us should have the password so both of us can post,” I said.

“Can you do that on FB?” AG asked.

So another task to add to my burgeoning To-Do list along with checking on FB’s guidelines for nudity, lust, and general issues with sexuality.

Then there is Twitter. I need a remedial course in Twitter. I have an account and followers who I am sure are breathlessly waiting for me to do something, post something, hashtag something. Good bloody grief. WTF?

“Can you tweet?” I asked.

Silence and perplexed looks followed from AG as he looked around for birds. I asked a tech savvy friend. He sent a one-page email. I printed it out, looked at it, and then took myself to lunch, with wine. Couldn’t make any sense out of it.

So tweeting is out.

Tumblr followed. Okay, back to Wiki How. Seems easy enough. Confusingly, I have an account already. Well okay then. What’s my Tumblr name? I don’t remember and can’t find where it’s recorded. What’s my password? Who knows. Two days later, both were residing in my little black book of IDs and passwords. Does anyone else keep a book of passwords? I lose the book and I am so screwed. (In the good old days, little black books were so much more fun.)

I said, “I think we should do a Tumblr page, post, whatever.”

“Sure,” said AG. “How do we do that?”

“I am not sure but I’ll dig into it. Only thing I am sure of is we need to have a whole lot of stuff to go on it. Like two weeks worth of daily doodads before we sign up. Do we have two weeks worth?”

“I’ll start cropping photos,” AG said.

So we are in the social media-marketing conundrum. This is a full time job. Who does this?

I have hired three marketing people who have disappeared. I figure I get two weeks of work out of them, pay them and they flake off. It is disheartening. Expensive.

What happens if we develop a beautiful exhibit around lust with stories in words and pictures and no one comes? Because they don’t know about it —

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