Showing posts with label Desert Kinkfest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Desert Kinkfest. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 14, 2023

Kinkfest Disappointment

God only nose what I did, or what WE did, but after the strong-willed "Mistress's" presentation on sensation play we were pointedly ignored.

The post-presentation play party began without any announcement. One couple took up a position on a massage table where she straddled him and manually worked him up until she could insert a steel "catheter."

Two large women donned skimpy black leather outfits that looked like they'd come, several decades earlier, from a Halloween costume store. They put some "blues" on a cd player and tied a short-haired (on her head) female to a cross. One proceeded to flog her bottom while the other did something on the other side in the vicinity of her crotch. 

Some left right away. Others, mostly old guys, sat around and watched. We did our best to give 'em the benefit of the doubt but gave up after about 10 minutes; it was so lack-lustre you'd have thought you were at a dog show.

The next night the wax & fire play demo was cancelled  due to health issues and replaced with a rope fundamentals demo. As with the sensation presentation, a generator ran noisily outside the tent making it almost impossible to hear the presenter. This time we lasted about twenty minutes.

Both days when I gave money -- suggested donation was $5 or $10 per day, I gave ten for each of us -- there was no hint of gratitude.

It's a couple who organized it and this was their last year. He's 76 and has done all the cooking for the free evening feeds; after ten years (or more) they've had enough. Thank god.


Thursday, March 9, 2023

Heat

It's hot east of Yuma and the almost continuous thundering of jets spoils what few quiets there are between the blamming of the target shooters.

The sign says ENTERING PUBLIC LANDS STAY ON DESIGNATED ROUTES and the area is a maze of tracks around and between the creosotes.

In Miracles of Life, (link is to Wiki article) published in 2008, J.G. Ballard eloquently describes the contrasts between the Shanghai of his youth and lunch at Cannes when Holly Hunter took umbrage when a journalist asked her why she "was in such shit." (the movie Crash)


His remarks on the inability of Americans to appreciate his satire of their fascination with gratuitous violence & violent sex are followed closely with observation that our politics are increasingly influenced by right-wingers, old-world religionists "the sound of freedom."

I'm looking forward to Desert Kinkfest in Quartzsite.  Daytime temps should obviate the need for anything more than shoes, a water-soaked shirt and a hat.