Ringo and Bingo

In the middle of their usual chaos and surrealism, I'm always a bit floored and intrigued by two things about my dreams: how occasionally a bit of really solid, structured narrative comes through - which reminds me of the fact that William Rose claimed that the entire plot of The Ladykillers came to him in a dream, whereupon he woke up and wrote it down; and, also occasionally, how the layers of dream knowledge play with and subvert conscious knowledge.

Case in point: towards the end of a dream which included some long chase sequence around downtown LA involving a whole phalanx of identical vintage cars, a short vignette in which someone referred to Ringo Starr - who was, naturally, present also - as 'Bingo', whereupon someone else remarked that it was only the second time Ringo had been called that, and that it was a good thing the speaker was a friend of Ringo's, otherwise - not sure, but something bad.

Now, in the dream I was then taken to infer from what had been said that 'Bingo' would be interpreted by Ringo as an insult, and then to wonder why, shortly to realise - still in the dream - that it must be because Bingo was the drummer in the Banana Splits. Not entirely complimentary.

When I woke up, remembering this exchange very clearly, I realised that I honestly wasn't sure if Bingo was indeed the Banana Splits drummer. I wouldn't have bet a huge amount of money that Bingo was even one of the Banana Splits, though I did think so. So I did a quick bit of web-searching to find out. And he was indeed the drummer.

The layers here make my head hurt:

As part of the construction of my dream, my brain was sure enough of the fact that Bingo was the Banana Splits drummer to create the vignette with Ringo, and the perceived insult. (We'll ignore any discussion of why it should have done that at all, never mind why it should have done it last night specifically.)

Within the dream, I could retrieve enough information from my memory to infer the connection between 'Ringo' and 'Bingo', and the nature of the insult, but it took me some time to do that. Once I'd realised the connection, it didn't occur to me - in the dream - to question whether I was right or not. It seemed obvious.

Once I'd woken up, I remembered the dream very clearly, but I was significantly less sure about the connection between 'Ringo' and 'Bingo', and had to go to Google to find out.

The effect is of becoming less sure about knowledge the more conscious the layer of access is: the least conscious layer, which participated in the construction of the dream, seemed sure of the 'Ringo'/'Bingo' connection; my consciousness at the dream level inferred the connection, but it took a short while; and my wakeful consciousness wasn't entirely sure of the connection at all.

It's a commonplace idea that we actually know more than we realise we do, but it's unsettling to have it presented quite so clearly.

Made of ticky tacky

Here's a great marketing wheeze, clearly conjured up by advertising types who Don't Have To Do It Themselves. Erect a small estate of perspex cubes, perhaps ten or so of them, each perhaps seven or eight feet in each dimension, along the pedestrianised shopping drag at 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica. Imprison in each of the cubes a willowy model, wearing some subset of Adidas's new range of skimpywear from Stella McCartney, the selling of which is the point of the whole operation. Then have the models perform synchronised yoga routines, involving much stretching, bending, and hooooooooooooolding in positions which maximise the skimpyness of the skimpywear, and which without the intervening half-inch of plastic and swatch of lycra would be lucratively pornographic to the passers-by with pushchairs and dripping tacos. (Actually, it's just the swatch of lycra that'd need to go.)

Then, conveniently forget that 3rd Street is where a significant proportion of Santa Monica's homeless community essentially live - certainly where they ply the best of their trade during busy shopping weekends - and watch, paralysed with embarrassment, as a shaggy and neglected homeless man, himself perhaps the model for the Aqualung cover, sidles along the row of little boxes, stops beside one just as its inhabitant bends forward, legs splayed wide, hands grasping ankles and hair dangling to the floor, pushes his nose up to the perspex and ogles entirely without shame from the back, her disciplined upward gaze from between her legs meeting his theatrical downward leer, some combination of dedication and needing-the-money keeping her in place despite shocked gasps from the ad-hoc audience, the difference between his intent and theirs being little more than the presence or absence of polite inhibition.

Reader, I made my excuses and left.

And then came back the next day, this time with my camera, but the boxes had been dismantled by then. Bah.

Subtlety not having worked, Deborah tries another approach

Geeky snippets

Josh Marshall - basically an older, slightly less-stoned Ellen Feiss with a bit more facial hair - takes the plunge, perhaps with a little push from John Gruber? And there is more rejoicing in heaven...

Speaking of which, Microsoft Re-Designs the iPod Packaging, and it would be funny if it wasn't quite so true.

And, taking our rental car back to Thrifty by LAX last week in torrential rain, the car in front of me advertised itself as the 'Turing Edition' of somesuch model, which presumably means that it can only go to a finite number of locations, and has no luggage space on account of the boot being full of tape. [Yeah, yeah, 'Touring Edition'.]

BDSM and Identity

My answers to a sequence of questions from a friend, asked as part of personal research, and posted here with a big FWIW disclaimer. Her intro:

Explanation: In this paper, I'm looking at sexuality as identity - specifically in the BDSM and spanking communities. Identity is different than action: a man who had sex with another man once does not necessarily identify as gay. I want to tease out what that looks like in the scene in terms of actions versus identity. I'm also interested in theological and spiritual issues that come up in the different practices.

1.) How do you identify in the scene (e.g., top, bottom, switch, Dom(-me), slave, Master, Mistress, slave, etc) and why?

The best way to answer this one's probably to link to something I wrote a while ago.

2.) How does BDSM/spanking fit with your sexuality? (i.e., Is it the same as your sexuality or different? What's the difference?)

BDSM/spanking, and a few other related fetishes which exist as satellites around a BDSM/spanking core, really is my sexuality. It's what I think about, what arouses me, what makes me feel connected to others through my sexuality. This is particularly highlighted since I don't do round-peg-in-round-hole sex.

3.) How does BDSM/spanking fit with your sexual orientation? (i.e., Is it the same or different? What's the difference?)

It depends what you mean by 'orientation'. I can think of three distinct meanings.

The first is the gendered one: I'm probably almost wholly heterosexual, although I'm happy to leave space for other possibilities. I have played (spanking) with a man, and enjoyed it very much, although it's not something I would seek out. For this meaning or orientation, I don't see BDSM/spanking as creating anything particularly different. I imagine that, were I not interested in BDSM, my gender orientation would be much the same: primarily het, but open to wider experiences.

The second meaning is the kink/vanilla orientation. In that respect, BDSM/spanking really does define my orientation. It defines how my sexuality works.

The third meaning relates to orientation within the BDSM/spanking world, and of course it's just as significant as the others. I identify as a switch, although (of course) that's a huge simplification of complex emotional issues. Certainly my fantasy life encompasses both topping and bottoming, even if things don't entirely work out that way in practice. More than that, though, I reckon there's an aspect of my flavour of switchiness that relates not to the presence of both topping and bottoming desires, but to a kind of third orientation, which is both, and neither, of those things at the same time. It's more like a kind of abstracted voyeurism, which allows the appreciation of an entire scene simultaneously, without necessarily associating oneself with either participant.

4.) Where does sex (intercourse) fit into this for you?

It doesn't fit into it at all. I have no desire for intercourse, don't fantasise about it, and, to the extent that I've done it, have found that I'm neither very good at it, nor enjoy it very much. My mind is on other things. My sexuality does encompass acts which are sexual - masturbation, anal play, etc. - but they're a side dish alongside the main meal, which is the power exchange in BDSM/spanking.

5.) How does BDSM/spanking fit with your identity? (i.e., Does it fit with who you are all the time, some of the time, or does it depend?)

It's complicated. I don't believe that there are any true conflicts between my desires for BDSM/spanking and the rest of my personality and world-view, but emotionally that hasn't necessarily been an easy place to get to. My contacts with the kink through pornography and such while I was growing up didn't present things in a way I could easily associate with. The voices I heard were all male, and the kink was presented to me as something which men did to women, primarily, if not exclusively, to fulfill their own desires. It took much longer to see that the kink for me was about nurturing, emotional connection, and that consensuality and gender equality weren't just possible within the kink, but absolutely central.

Although I'm much clearer these days about how consistent the kink can be with the rest of my identity, there are still (and always will be) traps and areas of potential difficulty. I know that I have quite a powerful attraction to the idea of being a rescuer - and that's of course not an uncommon expression of toppishness in the kink. It's something to be very careful with, precisely because it's so powerful, and because it can lead easily into situations which aren't healthy for either person.

Also, I still have huge difficulties with the actual practice of bottoming, which are completely to do with issues of control. It's something of a cliché that bottoms are often people who want and/or need control in the rest of their lives, so the attraction of bottoming is precisely in the letting go of that control for a while. That's mostly the appeal of bottoming for me, but in practice the letting go of the control over my own life/body, which is completely central to my identity, turns out to be very difficult.

6.) How long have you considered BDSM/spanking to be a part of yourself or your life?

From early childhood, although of course I wouldn't have thought about it that way at the time. Certainly from a pre-sexual developmental stage, which I do think is significant. I reckon people who have kink awareness before (perhaps) puberty, are far more likely to associate with the kink in ways that are distinct from conventional sex. The comics I read as a kid each week, in which the kids were often - and with great theatricality - spanked at the end of the strip for naughtiness, were profoundly interesting to me. Although I would have been both terrified and deeply resentful of such things happening to me, I was on some level envious of how smoothly and healthily the parent/teacher and child relationships functioned. The normality of it was deeply appealing. As an adult, I'm not really in favour of CP for kids. The apparent inconsistency isn't lost on me.

7.) How does pain fit into the picture for you? (e.g., Is it the focus, a main goal, an unwanted by product, not a part of the experience, or something else?)

Pain isn't central for me. It's a kind of key to open the door sometimes, the thing that's on the other side of the door being the real goal: emotional connection, nurturing, catharsis, security, etc. Those places can sometimes be reached in other ways, though.

I don't think a scene which was entirely about causing or receiving pain would be terribly interesting to me, although I'm not blind to the bliss that can result. I did bottom one time hard enough - and in a context where there wasn't really a constructed frame for the scene - that all the right endorphins kicked in afterwards and I flew for a while. But the ratio of genuine hurt during, to emotional buzz afterwards, was quite high, and it's not a type of scene that I feel drawn to.

8.) What do you do with pain? (e.g., Do you channel it, ignore it, fight it, surf it, bypass it, or something else?)

Definitely fight it. I haven't been able to find any headspace which would enable me to process it otherwise, so it feels mostly like an endurance test. I know there are good things waiting on the other side, but the journey isn't really an enjoyable one.

9.) What are your thoughts on the relationship between BDSM/spanking and spirituality/religion? (i.e., What have you or people you know experienced in this area and what do you think about it?)

Between BDSM/spanking and religion, none for me. I'm an atheist.

Between BDSM/spanking and 'spirituality'? It depends on the meaning of the word, which isn't one I like to use very much. It comes with too much baggage, and is too different for different people. If 'spirituality' refers to a connection with some entity/force/collective outside of one's own body, then, again, I'm reluctant to use the word.

If 'spirituality' refers to the relationship between BDSM/spanking and one's emotional state or well-being, then there's obviously a relationship, although 'spirituality' isn't the word I'd use - again, it's too loaded. I'd prefer just to talk about emotional state or well-being.

Perhaps the best answer I could give would be to say that the times I've felt most deeply connected with other people have been related to BDSM/spanking, and that there's a calm and fulfillment to be had from BDSM/spanking play which I'm not sure is achievable for me in other ways. Perhaps equivalent in scope but different in kind.