Ellie Goulding — High For This (The Weeknd Cover)
I somehow only realised that in those lipstick photos my face is an eery shade of moon-cheese green, and I would just like it to be on the record that that was because my fluorescent desk lamp was on.
The Farine Five Roses sign atop the Ogilvie Flour Mill
The name of my blog was at one point farinefiveroses, if anyone recalls. The photo album of photos I took in Canada that I posted on Facebook is called “farine five roses”. I remember staring at that sign as it glowed pink-red in the night. That sign came to symbolise every ideal and every illusion I ever had about Montreal: how I dreamed of living there, the pain I felt there, and how I long to go back.
Last night I watched an incredibly tacky porno called Every Woman Has A Fantasy, and I just loved every second of it. I couldn’t stop thinking about how fabulous the lead actresses all were and how much fun it would’ve been to act.
I don’t really think I’ve ever seen a “straight” porno where I’ve thought that the lead actress would’ve been having fun — a lot of the time, I can never relax during straight porn because I worry about how the woman really feels and whether she’s hurt. I know that sounds like some complex in which some underlying misogynistic tendency in me leads me to perceive women as “weak”, to underestimate their strength and thus always question whether or not they are active, consenting partners in things like porn or rough sex (as I type this, yes, I am thinking of “Brazzers”). But that’s not where I’m coming from. It’s just that when I’m watching two men having sex, I’m looking at bodies which are more or less like my own and I’m seeing sex depicted more or less in the same way that I’ve had sex in the past, so I can use my own experiences and my own body as a (yes, pretty flimsy) guide to how the actors are feeling. But with straight porn, I don’t really have that gauge and so sometimes, if I can’t tell if someone is in ecstasy or in pain, I get scared. (Marie knows about my complex, re: blurring the lines of consent. Basically, I don’t like to.)
Anxiety and apprehension aside, Every Woman Has A Fantasy is a pretty delightful romp. I loved that it was written by a woman (whose name, Summer Brown, sounds suspiciously like a brand of fake tan) and I think that probably explains why I related to it better. I think a lot of porn ignores that fact that a lot of the fun in sex (for me, anyway) comes from talking about sex, or getting ready for sex, or the situation in which you meet your partner. Porn written by men (which, let’s face it, is probably 98% of porn) tends to focus a lot more on the sex itself and the mechanics of sex, and as a result, it ends up exactly that: mechanical. I liked how this movie focuses more on the scenarios and the background behind the fantasies. (I can’t believe I’m genuinely critiquing a Z-grade porno!)
Despite the gargantuan nails, the fabulous perms, the outrageous guitar riffs and the appallingly cheesy dialogue, I think the fantasies are actually really sexy and they make fucking just seem like a whole lot of fun. Which is what porn needs, frankly.
mileysbong a demandé: You are so fucking cool. Be friends with me, you're perfect.
At a time when my number of followers is dwindling, I’ve fallen out of contact with a lot of the people on here who I admired the most, and I’ve genuinely been considering deleting my blog, this message really means a lot to me. Thank you so much! I’ve been admiring your blog for a such a long time and it’s really lovely to know that you hold mine in high esteem, too.
When:
- you’ve spent the entire day lounging about in that ugly oversized shirt with a hole in the sleeve that you should really have thrown out years ago (and which you are curiously always wearing in almost every photobooth picture you take),
- you can’t stop worrying about how you’re going to finish that essay on traditional Chinese medicine that was due two or so weeks ago and is worth 30% of your final grade
- you haven’t been to the gym or shaved in several days
- you’re suffering from self-loathing because you drink too much and you recently starting smoking like a chimney after having quit for over a year
… lipstick is the answer.
