My Writings. My Thoughts.
Having already visited SF in September 2013, I fell in love with the city and wanted to experience it again. These pictures show the fun I had during my 9 nights of adventure.
All photos are courtesy of TapedAndTortured. Some photos were done with the assistance of Mark from Seriousmalebondage.com.
(scroll down to skip boring statistics and jump to Trikoot’s special rant about life!)
In 2014, I visited 12 foreign cities, which are, in alphabetical order: Basel, Berlin (3 times), Dresden, London (2 times), Los Angeles, Manchester, Munich, Norwich, Oslo, San Diego, Vienna, and Zürich. I had a total of 65 foreign travel days.
Summer 2014 saw me getting my motorcycling (class A) license, and immediately afterwards my first motorcycle, a Yamaha FZ6-S. I spent the summer riding as much as I could, racking up approximately 9000 km (5600 miles).
During 2014 I refurnished my playroom. I constructed my own bondage chair, made out of wood, and expanded the steel bondage frame already present in the room.
For 2015, I have the following goals:
* Complete the three-phase training required to get a car (class B) license.
* Do a motorcycling trip abroad, probably in Central/Southern Europe.
* Visit Berlin for Easter and Folsom Europe
* Improve my motorcycling skills with a few track days
* Construct the first, actually working version of a microprosessor-controlled breath control machine
* Finish my Master’s degree.
On a more personal note–and part of my ongoing midlife crisis–I’ve had to repeatedly think about the relationships in my life with my friends. For the past year I have tried to emphasise quality over quantity when it comes to having meaningful relationships in my life. It seems that a lot of my friends seem to be contempt with having numerous acquaintances, with whom occasional pleasantries and a beer can be shared, but with whom there is no deeper connection. A year ago I decided not to prioritize relationships with people with whom I cannot connect on a deeper level, as I find such relationships relatively meaningless. I have done my best to attempt this connection with everyone who comes across my path, sometimes rather fast, but too often unsuccessfully.
But this is not to say say, as once again too many do, that there is something inherently wrong in the world or other people. I believe partly in existentialism, especially because I believe that there is no inherent meaning in life, except that which we decide to create ourselves. I believe that the map is not the territory, and that the only meaning of communication is the response you get. It would be foolish to imply that most people lack the capacity for human connection, which is why I have concluded that my current approach is not perfect.
While I use the word “relationship” here to refer to any connection I have with other people, the big question of that one special one has not escaped my mind. As I see friends finding— and losing— their special ones, the superficial part in me silently congratulates himself for evading the huge emotional impact you expose yourself to by engaging in courtship. The statistician in me notes— rather dryly— that, considering the size of my target group, and my rather high expectations, there is practically no chance for finding someone to fit that mold. The responsible adult in me notes that I should not experiment with things like these, for the risk of hurting other people is too great. The Eckhart Tolle in me notes — peacefully — that any feelings of incompleteness are unnecessary.
I do not expect to find answers any time soon.
The next post will probably have rubbery bondage pictures, like usual.
This weekend, having finished the first version of my bondage cross, a few friends came over to help test it out.
The bondage cross is made out of wood, and as opposed to normal crosses (also called St. Andrews Cross, named after the Christian Apostle Andrew, who had a famous session during late first century AD in a similar cross), my cross keeps the hands in a downwards diagonal position, aimed to minimize possible fatigue.
In my continuing attempt to educate people that life is not a porn movie, this session had to be ended early due to heat exhaustion.
I don’t usually write film reviews, but every now and then I encounter a film during which I cannot help but to wonder what I would write if I did reviews for a living.
This week, I had the chance to see Age of Consent (Bangor Films, USA/UK 2014) in a special showing organized by Vinokino, a local LGBT film organization in Helsinki, Finland. The following is my opinion of the film.
Filmed, directed and edited by Charles Lum and Todd Verow, Age of Consent aims to discuss the recent LGBT history of UK, while also portraying The Hoist in London as a groundbreaking venue for kinky folk. The film consists mostly of interviews of people associated with The Hoist, with the addition of a few other people in the LGBT scene in both the US and the US.
Unfortunately the film is a failure as a documentary, and features incredible lost potential in discussing important subjects. The historical timeline the film features is lacking, with important cases such as the Spanner trial, mentioned without any context, or even a decade for that matter. Political aspects of LGBT rights are ignored, and politicians are painted as simple devious individuals aimed at destroying the possibility of free, unlimited sex.
All of the serious political discussion is cross-cut with video of explicit penetrative anal sex, which might work as a parody of an over-the-top LGBT documentary, but which in this case is most likely either as an attempt to keep viewer attention, or worse, to gather up some risqué attention for the otherwise failed film.
The documentary does not shy away from simplifying the kinky scene of London, featuring implicitly The Hoist as a savior of the scene, conveniently either ignoring or mentioning in passing the numerous other clubs serving the scene in history or current day.
From a technical standpoint, Age of Consent attempts a cinéma vérité style of documentary, with noticeable absence of narration or background music. Unfortunately this proves mostly nauseating, hand-held video photography juxtaposed with cheaply made B-roll, in a futile attempt to break up otherwise obviously unprepared and blathering interviews. Any historical footage is absent.
In conclusion, any of the topics mentioned superficially in Age of Consent would be enough for a feature-length documentary. Age of Consent, however, fails to discuss any of the serious issues currently challenging the kinky community, or even to provide an adequate historical background to base any discussion on.