#or the tropical paradise where I’m developing wonderful relationships with the people I live with far beyond anything I’ve ever had in my li

[idsb]

How funny it is that 3 weeks ago all I wanted to do was leave this place and now that I’ve set everything in motion to make that happen, I can’t think of anything worse than having to prematurely leave it behind 🥴

[mtjester]

New 8eginnings

Contractstuck: AO3 | Tumblr

The night buzzed with insects. As usual, the air was hot and humid, even inside the hotel Terezi, Tavros, and their band of “protectors” had set up as a semi-permanent residence. It wasn’t grand, but it wasn’t a hovel, either; Tavros had moved his mafia money into a new and not entirely legal location, and it was serving them well in their exile. Terezi had covered their tracks thoroughly, partially with the help of Sollux. No one, not even Rufioh, not even the mafia, knew where they were. They could last months at the rate they were going, living “the good life” off the beaten road in the tropics.

They laid next to each other on one of their beds, staring up at the ceiling. Terezi held two sealed envelopes in her hand, a habit she had developed lately.

“Can you remember what they looked like?” Tavros asked, ending the long silence.

“No,” she said. “I can remember everything that happened, but they’re just shadows now.”

“Yeah...for me, too. I can’t remember their voices or anything.” Tavros glanced at Terezi as she drew in a long sigh. “So, on a scale of one to ten, what is the update on your emotions for today?”

Terezi thought for a moment and finally settled on, “Four.”

“Wow, that’s kind of low. What, um...what are you thinking? Are you...regretting our decision more than usual?”

“It’s not regret, Tavros,” Terezi said. “We did what we needed to do.”

“Yes, that’s true, but sometimes what you need to do isn’t the same thing as what you want to do.”

“I wanted to do it. We both did.”

“Yes, but...also, we didn’t, because there were additional factors, and it’s okay to acknowledge those factors and feel emotions like regret.” He hesitated, looking at her now-blind eyes. She tightened the grip on the envelopes in her hand. “Remember what Jade and Dave said to us about having a healthy relationship with our emotions?”

“I’m really starting to wonder if they’re the ones who should be giving us emotional advice. The longer we’re with them, the more it’s clear they have their own problems.”

Tavros let out a small laugh. “Yeah, but Rose trained them, and she at least knows real things about psychology.”

“I have my doubts about her, too,” Terezi joked with a smirk. It wasn’t long before the smirk slipped. “But they are getting the job done, so I can’t rip on them too much. My guess is that Rose is almost done nullifying the contracts, and that’s why we’re losing our memories of them.”

“That makes sense. So, when we don’t remember them at all, even their names...that’s when the contracts are nullified entirely?”

“Seems that way.” Terezi gnawed on her lower lip for a moment and, with another sigh, finally said, “I guess...I do miss them. Even Gamzee. He sucked, but at least I could blame him when I made bad decisions. Now, it’s just me when I fuck up. And...I’m starting to think that I felt like I deserved it. All this tropical paradise stuff is beginning to rub me the wrong way. We ruined people’s lives, and here we are, drinking coconut water and going swimming with all the money our demons made for us, like this is the right thing to do. Blargh, I feel like shit just thinking about it.”

Tavros turned onto his side to look at her. “I try to avoid those feelings most of the time with all the denial I can muster,” he said. “If we feel that way, then we’ll return to the cycle of abuse that led us to do bad things in the first place, and it will just fuel the suffering in the world some more.”

“Which one of the idiot brigade fed you that line?” Terezi asked. 

“I forgot,” Tavros replied, laughing. “But I agree with the sentiment. We have to stay positive and practice self-love aggressively, even when we remember all of the things that we did to justify hating ourselves, or else we will go back to being terrible human beings who are easy for bad people, such as demons, to take advantage of.”

Terezi pressed her lips together into a grimace. “They make it sound so easy. ‘Just love yourself!’ Sure.”

“Well...that’s why we’re sticking together, even though we have no reason to be connected anymore, right? So that we can love each other aggressively when we can’t love ourselves,” Tavros said. He reached out and touched her hand so that she could read his sincerity. Her grimace slackened a bit.

“Yeah. That was the most competent thing the idiot brigade has taught us so far.” She intertwined her fingers with his. 

“Do they know that you call them the idiot brigade?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay.” He laughed again. They fell back into a more comfortable silence.

“...Hey, Tavros?” Terezi said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you really want to open these envelopes again when all of this is over?”

“I...don’t know. Should we?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you want to, right?”

“I don’t know about that, either. Do you?”

“...I had fun with Gamzee,” Tavros said after a pause. “I got along with him. I wouldn’t mind talking to him again someday. And...you liked Vriska, right?”

“But would it be good for us?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either.” They looked down at the envelopes in Terezi’s hand. One had the name “Terezi” written on it in bold letters, and the other said, “Tavros.” She closed her fist around them, crumpling them up. “We don’t have to sign a contract with them again,” she said. “That’s what Rose said, at least.”

“We would just see them? Like how we can see Dave and Karkat?”

“When you know a demon’s sign, you can see them. You wouldn’t have to see Vriska, and I wouldn’t have to see Gamzee. And we wouldn’t have to feed them. That would make a difference.”

“Yeah...but what about temptations to have the boons a demon can provide, such as what landed us in this problem in the first place?”

Terezi looked down at the envelopes for a moment longer, and then she sat up and dropped them into the drawer of her side table. She closed it with a snap. “We’ll be strong,” she said, flopping back down onto the mattress. “We won’t open them until we’re sure we’re ready. Until we can really love ourselves first and won’t give into moments of weakness. We have a lot of work to do before then.”

“I was thinking, actually, about donating all the dirty money that I got, as a first step to redemption,” Tavros said. “That way, we can start to clear our consciousness and make up for all of our terrible sins of the past.”

“We can keep some of the money,” Terezi said with a wicked smirk. “Wealth never hurt anyone’s self-confidence.”

“Well...maybe a little bit. At least until we can go back to work again, if we can go back to work again…”

“We’ll figure something out,” Terezi said. “I can think of a couple gigs I could sort out for you. Maybe I could give law school another shot.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It can’t go worse than it did the first time.”

Tavros grinned. “Yes, good. Maybe we’ll be okay after all.”

“You know, I think we might be able to make this work.”

The insects continued to buzz outside, and eventually, the light in the hotel room extinguished. Outside, Karkat, Dave, Jade, and John sat on the curbside, dripping melting ice cream onto the road.

“So?” John asked, glancing sidelong at Karkat, who was gazing blankly into the distance.

“So what?” Karkat said.

“Is it working?”

“It’s been working. I’ve been hauling ass this whole trip.”

“I know, but is it working working? Are they going to be okay?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“I think it’s been working,” Jade said with confidence as she slurped up the dripping ice cream. “They’ve been really taking our lessons to heart lately! Right, Dave?”

“Sure have. Hell, they’ll be opening up a restaurant and buying a dog by the end of the week. Real new start material.”

John leaned back. “So how long do you think they’re going to need us?”

“Forever, I hope!” Jade said with a laugh. “This is the best vacation we’ve had in a long time!”

“It’s not a vacation!” Karkat snapped at the same time John said, “It’s the only vacation we’ve had in a long time.”

“I doubt they’ll be kicking us out any time soon either way,” Dave said. “We’re the shit. They’re all about hanging out with us. They hit us up every day.”

“They’re fun to be around, too,” Jade said. “Maybe we can still be friends when this is all over.”

“Maybe Rose will hire them,” John said with a shrug. 

“Wait, really?”

“I don’t know. She could!”

“She should! Hey, Dave, go tell Rose that she should hire them! Terezi even has some legal training! And Tavros...can probably do some office stuff and help Kanaya?”

“Hell yeah,” Dave said. “But after I finish this ice cream.”

“Why don’t you just call her yourself?” Karkat said. “You have a phone. It’s morning over there.”

“You’re right!” Jade pulled out her phone and dialed the number of the agency. They all leaned in as the phone rang, ready to give a glowing report. 

On the other side of the world, as Kanaya picked up the phone, Rose murmured the last spell of the ritual. Two contracts, pulsing with gold light, deepened to red as they caught fire. The embers floated away into the abyss, and, as they slept, the demonic symbols faded from Tavros and Terezi’s skin.

[ricardosousalemos]

ANOHNI: Paradise EP

In May 2016, just a few weeks after releasing her powerful record HOPELESSNESS, Anohni debuted an accompanying live performance at New York’s Park Avenue Armory. The cavernous drill hall amplified her thunderous production to prophetic heights, but the presentation was less a showcase of artistry than it was a persuasive address. Anohni herself stood shrouded in a veiled habit beneath a towering screen that showed an assortment of women mouthing along to her songs. Never once was she, nor her collaborators Daniel Lopatin, aka Oneohtrix Point Never, and Christopher Elms, the center of attention. The point was clear: the words coming out of her mouth are so universal and enduring that they are greater than one individual.

Nine of the artists, poets, and activists featured in the Armory show reappear on the cover of Anohni’s newest seven-song EP, Paradise. They are shown weeping, drenched in blood, faces weary with pain. These are the people whose concerns Anohni works to vocalize, those who understand that womanhood and the Earth from which we subsist are deeply intertwined. “Only an intervention by women around the world,” Anohni writes in an accompanying piece, “With their innate knowledge of interdependency, deep listening, empathy, and self-sacrifice, could possibly alter our species’ desperate course.” The singer has spoken extensively about gender and ecocide as a member of the Future Feminism collective, but never before has she been so explicit about their cause-and-effect relationship. “My mother’s love/Her gentle touch/My father’s hand/Rest on my throat,” she sings on the title track, contrasting the feminine Earth with those who wish her harm. More than simply tossing around blame on Paradise, Anohni takes responsibility herself and urges her audience to do so as well.

Once again reunited with her production crew of Lopatin and Hudson Mohawke, Paradise comes off as a HOPELESSNESS companion piece rather than a stand-alone album. Even as her music grows increasingly industrial, the organic remains a constant presence, a subtle reminder that we carry the earth within us. Like a biodome filled with an assortment of ecosystems, Paradise jumps from rocky and volcanic to chirping and tropical with just the slightest change of beat, while each song sticks closely to its appointed terrain. On the furious title track, skittering percussion and booming production support Anohni as she describes apocalyptic loss and turmoil. “Staring at myself/I feel giant and trapped/Seemingly/Without escape,” she observes, inferring that the Earth’s destruction incites mortal dysmorphia. “I’m here, not here.”

The abrasive “Jesus Will Kill You” picks up where HOPELESSNESS’ “Obama” left off, a mournful interrogation of those who use their power to destroy the earth and its inhabitants. “Ricochet,” on the other hand, is a joyful, bouncing promise to “curse” and “hate” the creator for the state of existence. Both songs’ invocation of a punitive deity may seem sudden since Anohni tends to explore corporeal matters rather than the spiritual. But in the year since HOPELESSNESS, her rage and pain have transcended human action.

The final track, “She Doesn’t Mourn Her Loss,” also closed out the Armory show and was the most powerful moment of the evening. The song itself is a pleading ballad about how the Earth holds her tears and simply accepts change. “Who will remember her? If not her children,” Anohni asks. As it was at the Armory, the rhetorical question is again raised by a speech Aboriginal artist Ngalangka Nola Taylor originally presented at the World Economic Forum. “We are wondering what is happening to the world. Everything is change, changing,” she asks in broken English. “How are we going to stop and work on it and work together and make the world a better place to live for all of us?” Anohni provided one solution just days before the release of Paradise. 

She revealed on Facebook that the EP contains a seventh bonus track called “I Never Stopped Loving You” that is available for a small price: “a gesture of anonymous vulnerability” communicated over email. By asking her audience to connect intimately in exchange for a piece of herself, Anohni presents a reminder that there is a human behind the materials we consume, just like there is an Earth from which we were born and from which we harm without thought. Paradise challenges its listeners to emotionally engage with their surroundings in hopes that they develop a conscious understanding that there are consequences to our daily conveniences. As Anohni continues her resistance, she recognizes the battle is impossible to win without an open heart.

[freedinsidelove1]

MY NAME IS ANNIE SPRINKLE AND I AM A SYBARITIC COUGAR WITH ECOSEXUAL TENDENCIES. I am new bride, recently married to the Earth, the Sky and the Sea, and engaged to marry the Moon. Never had I imagined that I’d be so lucky in love, or become so consumed with seemingly crazy, taboo, sexual desires. Nothing prepared me for this kind of relationship, and for this strange, new sexual identity. There is so much to learn that I feel like a total eco-virgin, sun kissed for the very first time. Last night I arrived here in Akumal, Mexico by plane, from my home base in San Francisco, California. It is the perfect setting for a honeymoon adventure; a comfy condo apartment with floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows, which open right onto a white sand beach, a baby blue sky and a florescent turquoise-green Sea. Tropical birds sing me joyous songs as my Sky lover blows ocean-scented breaths all over my face, arms, and under my soft, slinky, leopard-print floor length nighty, which I bought special to wear on this honeymoon. It drapes nicely over my curves, and frames my abundant cleavage to perfection. You’d never know I got it at Target, unless you had one just like it. My gut is filled with anticipation, as though I’m about to eat the ripe, juicy apple from the Garden of Eden’s tree of knowledge. I wonder will the apple send me into rapture, or be poisoned? Or both at the same time? I can almost taste it, because in truth I’m no eco-virgin at all. I’ve been ‘round the planet more than once, and its no secret that I’ve had far more ecosexual experience than most other gals my age. It wasn’t just the great ecosex that brought me to this pregnant honeymoon moment. For years, the Earth, Sky, Sea and Moon and I were, you could say, just friends. We liked each other a lot, and had what I’d describe as an ‘erotic platonic’ relationship. We didn’t see much of each other, as I was a city girl; born in Philadelphia, raised in L.A., and spent most of my adult life Manhattan. There weren’t a whole lot of opportunities in my life for meaningful connections with the Earth, Sky, and Sea, with the exception of four wonder-years I spent in Central America, in Panama, from the age of thirteen to seventeen when Dad worked for the US Agency for International Development. Panama was a lush, jungle paradise filled with ecosensual delights. My teenage experiments with psychedelics on “Tits Beach” made for some transcendental connections with nature and its elements. It’s possible that’s where my relationship with the Earth, Sky, Sea and Moon really took hold. Or perhaps this relationship actually goes back to the womb, or further. Since I took my wedding vows, ‘to love, honor and cherish the Earth, Sky and Sea until death brings us closer together forever,’ my love grows bigger, deeper and more Universal every day, and penetrates every aspect of my life. I’m quite certain that we will be together for the rest of my life. I would be nothing without them. On this honeymoon I expect to get to know more about my lovers and what makes them happy and satisfied. But all is not sunshine and daffodils. Last night when I first arrived here at the condo with my luggage in tow, what was the first thing I saw in front of me? Nothing less than a huge, dreaded, killer Palmetto bug—aka the water bug—that indestructible, dinosaur cockroach. Was this a warning sign from the Universe that danger lies ahead? I’m scared. Will my new relationships work? Will I be worthy? There are issues; my fears of intimacy, old coping mechanisms, negative thought patterns, baggage from past relationships, societal taboos, not to mention the earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis. There were also things that happened in my childhood. Between the ages of about seven and ten my younger sister chased me with giant water bugs whenever she found them. I’d run screaming into the safety of the bathroom and slam the door. She would then put them under the door and they would crawl towards me while she laughed, taunted and terrorized me. This created some deep wounds--for which she has since sincerely apologized. A shaman-therapist suggested that in a past life I had lived in the jungle, been tortured, and when left to die my body became covered with crawling water bugs. There were maggots involved too. Will I ever be able to overcome my childhood (and past life) nature abuse? In any case, I can no longer deny my romantic, and erotic, attraction to nature. Society does not support this kind of relationship. Look at the eco-sex negative names like “tree hugger,” “hedonist,” “beach bum.” “Pagan,” “dirty girl,” “tom boy,” “flower child”… The list goes on. We must reclaim these! Say it loud, say it proud, “I am a nature lover!” Those of us that can, must come out of the closet. Perhaps when people get to know us and realize we are part of their communities and in their families things will get better. Of course lots and lots of people don’t even realize they are ecosexual. They need to be educated. We need an Ecosex Community Center, an Ecosex Film Festival, a march on Washington to demand more environmental protections. Oh dear, here I am, working again--and on my honeymoon. OK, so I realize that I am anthropomorphizing the Earth, Sky, Sea, and Moon—attributing them human-like qualities, the way people anthropomorphize “God.” The Earth, Sky and Sea are not human beings, and human beings are not the Earth, Sky and Sea. --Or are we? This experience is so new that anthropomorphizing is the only way I can manage to even begin to explain it. Hopefully I will find better ways to speak of these things in the future. Here in Akumal, I’m grateful that I can share this honeymoon with my beloved, human life-partner, Elizabeth Stephens, aka Beth. She and I are walking hand-in-hand on this amazing bio-sexual adventure. We came to these life-changing self-discoveries at the same time. We fell madly in love nine years ago. For the first couple years of our relationship we desired to be totally monogamous. A couple years later we decided to practice what we call “adventurous monogamy.” We’d have erotic adventures together; like going to a neo-burlesque show and getting a lap dance, or doing a sensual massage evening with our sacred intimate, Joseph Kramer, or we’d find ourselves being voyeurs at a friend’s sex party. Things really changed five years into the relationship when we bought a little cabin in the woods of Boulder Creek, California. It was there that we found ourselves turning green-- what with all the talk of solar power, global warming, recycling, … green was in the zeitgeist. We discussed it and decided to open up our relationship to become what we call ‘pollen-amorous.’-- to take the Earth as our lover. Looking back, Beth and I can see how the experiences in our lives shaped us and brought us to this--our destiny. Perhaps she and I were drawn to each other by greendar, sensing each other’s latent ecosexuality. In any case, we are glad we found each other. There aren’t too many other partners that would let their wives marry, and make love with, the Earth, Sky, Sea and Moon. Now Beth and I want to share our enthusiasm for this kind of love, and the things we’ve learned and are thinking. We hope our story will help and inspire others like us, or help others who aren’t like us understand us, and ultimately we hope to help to protect our beloveds the Earth Sky, Sea and Moon. WHEN I KNEW -- CHILDHOOD When I first knew that I was an ecosexual I was five. My family moved from to sunny California from dark Pennsylvania. My parents bought us a house with a sparkling blue swimming pool. I remember, the first time I jumped into our. The rush of the cold water; my heart pumping, lips tingling, toes curling, the pure body pleasure. I floated, buoyant, the light twinkling on the top of the water like fairy glitter. The sound of the splasssshhhh, then the silence of the deep end. I became one with the water. I was a water ballerina, beautiful, graceful, at peace. I loved the taste and scent of the chlorinated water. I became renewed, refreshed. Even though I knew it was naughty, I peed in the pool. They don’t call me Sprinkle for nothing. When I knew that I was an ecosexual I was nine. My dad discovered Yosemite and he fell in love. In retrospect, my dad must have been an ecosexual too. Our family visited Yosemite several times a year. That’s when it started, between me, and the redwood trees. I liked them BIG. And they were HUGE! Big, round, hard, but soft, redwood trees. Gentle giants. I loved the scent of the trunk, like vanilla mixed with soil. I have a strong memory of coming across a redwood that had fallen over from a storm. I walked around and peeked at its freshly exposed roots. So soft, so sensuous, so sexy! I had to touch them. When I knew that I was an ecosexual I was ten. It was at night, when we were camping. My family would gather wood and make a fire. I was a Camp Fire Girl! We crumpled newspaper, topped it with kindling and lit it with a match. When the flames got going we added logs. It would start slowly, then build. Eventually the fire became raging, hot, I could feel the heat on my skin. I loved the smell of the burning wood and smoke. I could stare into the dancing flames for hours, and find so many colors; reds, oranges, yellows, even blues, greens and purples. Flames licking wood with intensity. The logs florescent with burning embers, like a painting on black velvet. I would watch until the fire went completely out. That’s when I knew. MY GREEN TEEN YEARS My first oral sex experience was in communion with nature, on a secluded beach two hours north of Panama City. Mathew Van Guilder Howell was a sweet older man at twenty-four years old. He owned The Golden Frog, a hippie coffee shop. I was a shy, sweet sixteen, high school student and budding hippie. We did what young people did in 1969 on their first date; a hit of mescaline. That night there was but a sliver of a moon, and the stars were only how stars can be on a jungle beach on the equator—more bright and abundant than anywhere else on the planet. There were so many shooting stars it was like a fireworks display, but way, way better. The gentle, rhythmic waves massaging the sand were filled with plankton, which made them glow in the dark with magical phosphorescent sparkle. Nature was at her most glamorous and seductive, dripping in diamonds. Van and I got naked. My heart was open and pumping, my senses aroused, and I was in love for the first time. I laid on my back, dug my feet into the sand, and let my knees open like butterfly wings to welcome the Universe in between my thighs. The splash of a wave spit on my belly and vulva. For a few timeless moments the Universe and I made an exquisite, erotic, cosmic connection. Then Van kissed his way down my body and gave me, what we called at the time, “head.” To this day Van and I remain friends, but it is the Earth, Sky, and Sea that I ultimately married. As I think about it, my most memorable teen ecosex experiences were when I was in an entheogen induced altered state. Like when I took a hit of orange sunshine (LSD) and sat by the stove and watched, transfixed, the miracle that is water boiling in a metal pot for a long, long, long time. The sounds the bubbles made against the steel pot were hypnotic and beautiful. Like when I ate psilocybin mushrooms, buried myself up to my neck in cool sand and lay cuddling with the Earth for an eternity. Like the time I smoked opium and watched a giant sea turtle lay her eggs on the beach. Like when I ate some peyote buttons in the Arizona desert and made love with a big, erect, suaro cactus. There was no touching of the cactus for obvious reasons, but I swear, that cactus and I exchanged our sexual energies. These experiences, and a few others like them, I treasure highly and wouldn’t have missed them for the world. MY ECOSLUTTY NEW YORK CITY YEARS At eighteen I moved to Manhattan. Like leaving a high school sweetheart behind when one goes away to college, I just didn’t have much use for nature anymore and was just fine without it. For years and years the city satisfied all my needs. I had an exciting and happy life in the sex industry, working in massage parlors, making porn movies, doing burlesque, and posing for sex magazines. Eventually I successfully transitioned into the art world, touring internationally with my one-woman performance-art-theater shows about my life. I also became a sex educator, and the first porn star to get a Ph.D.. On the rare occasions when I did venture out of the city into the country, it was mostly to the Wise Woman Center near Woodstock. In summers women would gather there to learn “wise woman traditions” at the famous, eccentric herbalist, Susun Weed’s rustic old house and barn-like studio located in an old, abandoned rock quarry. The WWC was surrounded by numerous acres of woods, rivers, and waterfalls. There was a lake, which had a thick blanket of green algae across the top but you could still swim in it, sky clad. Gardens, goats, geese, pet spiders, insects and fairies were all part of the curriculum. It was at the WWC that for the first time I heard someone mention, in passing, the concept of the “Earth as a lover” as an alternative to “Earth as a Mother.” This grabbed my attention! My motto had always been “eroticize everything.” Sex was my thing, my path, my language. Maybe I, a big city slut, could reconnect with nature by thinking of the Earth as my lover. The first time I went to the WWC was for Blood of the Ancients, a week-long gathering with rituals and workshops honoring menstruation. My curiosity about what such a gathering would entail led me to sign up. Women spun stories of walking into the woods, sitting on moist moss and letting their menstrual blood drip down on it as a way to nourish and connect with the Earth. Women spoke of bleeding into cotton cloth pads, then soaking the pads in water and using the bloody water to nourish their plants, and to feel earthy. While I definitely thought these practices were pretty out there, I also liked the idea of these intimate, symbolic gestures and later tried the bloody-rag-water idea out for myself for a few months on my two motley houseplants. The women all sang songs together about blood and the Earth around the campfire and in sweat lodge ceremonies. “Blood of the Ancients, flows through my veins. Forms die, but the river of life remains.” “The Earth is our Mother. We will take care of her. Hey yunga, ho yunga hey yung yung.” “Earth my body, water my blood, air my food and fire my spirit!” “The river is flowing, flowing and flowing. The river is flowing, back to the Sea. Mother carry me, a child I will always be. Mother carry me, back to the sea.” Even though it felt a bit silly, it was nice to sing about, and to, the Earth. In any case, there was no denying that shit grew like crazy all around the place. The next summer I returned to the Wise Woman Center for Green Witch Week. Just after my green witch initiation, Susun Weed invited me to teach there. So for ten years, every summer I went and taught a four-day Sacred Sex workshop with my friends Jwala, Barbara Carrellas, and Linda Montano. I had come to fancy myself a red witch and a sacred prostitute. We taught the usual stuff about g-spots, erotic massage, sex magic, tantra, and had Sluts and Goddesses dress up and performance nights. But on the fourth afternoon of our workshop, when the workshopees were ripe and ready, I’d give them a most unusual assignment; “go out into the woods alone and have sex with something in nature, like a tree, a rock, a cloud, or a waterfall.” I’d coach them. “Use all of your senses, smell, touch, taste, lick, kiss, rub, hump…” Sometimes I would do a little demo—like I’d lay across a hot granite boulder, kiss it, lick and taste it, sniff it, hug it, hump it, breathe it in... We’d all have a good laugh then off to the woods they’d go. Two hours later, we’d gather again in a circle for kiss and tell. “I made love with a waterfall, and it was the best sex I ever had.” “It was amazing. I got totally into this lavender bush.” “I never thought of doing this before but I had a great experience with some lichen and can’t wait do it again.” “I fell asleep by the river and when I woke up there were butterflies all over my body. It was so beautiful.” The women were overwhelmingly excited, amazed and satisfied. Of course there were always the Goddesses of Distention who held back. They just couldn’t, and wouldn’t go there. “Way too kinky.” But those that gave themselves over to the assignment agreed; nature was one hell of a hot lover. We teach what we want to learn. In the late 80’s and early 90’s I wrote a series articles for Penthouse magazine. One was about a Native American shaman, sex magician and teacher named Harley Swiftdeer and his five-day Quodoshka workshop. He was the real deal. Harley taught me the best sex technique in the world--the Fire Breath orgasm-- also known as the FBO. It’s a circular breathing technique to breathe ecstasy energy into and up one’s body and then out into an electric energy orgasm release. With the FBO one can learn to harness, build, and move sexual energy, which can then be utilized for all kinds of things; hotter partner sex, physical healing, emotional cleansing, spiritual nourishment, shamanic journeying, and more. When I saw his more advanced students all demonstrate it, I knew I just had to learn it. It took me a couple years of practicing to get the total hang of the FBO. I’d practice it at home alone or with other people who knew how to do it. But it was the day that I practiced the FBO in Central Park by the lake near the Alice in Wonderland statue, that I really GOT it and had my first big, electric, full body, blissful energy orgasm. The technique can be done with clothes on, standing or laying, and could be interpreted as someone doing yogic breathing or some sort of tai chi moves, so I don’t think anyone in the park knew what I was up to. Watching the light dancing on the water, breathing in the scent of the dirt, and the sounds of the pigeons around me were just the inspiration I needed to get me over the energy orgasm hump. Learning the FBO was pivotal for me in my ecosexual evolution. Through my breath, some kegals, undulation, and intention, I could make love with the Earth, Sky and Sea energetically. Over the years that followed I taught hundreds of others; men, women and trans people, to do it too in workshops I called “Ecstasy Breathing” or “Fun With Breath and Energy Orgasm,” and often gave the technique a bit of an ecosexual twist. Certainly a person does not have to be outside of a city to have good ecosex. For example, there was the time I was laying on my living room couch masturbating with my Hitachi magic wand when I looked out my eleventh story window, over the skyscrapers and into the sky when a big, white puffy cloud cruised me. Earlier I’d been reading the book Sexual Secrets and there was a quote I resonated with. “I am the sun, the moon and all the stars. There is no temple as sacred, no temple as blissful, as my own body.” I medibated on that thought and found myself fantasizing that the cloud was watching me, coming closer to me, then enveloping me in its pillowy puffs. This was very pleasurable, and triggered a series of deep clitoral orgasms, accompanied by a burst of emotion, which I call a crygasm. My favorites. As I came out of a divine afterglow, a wave of shame washed over me. Was I some sort of cloud pervert? Was there a difference between what Shere Hite told me was a totally normal recurring rape fantasy doing a live sex show with a horse, vs. a fantasy of making love with a cloud? I decided to ask the cloud, is this for real? Is this consensual? Am I totally nuts? In that moment a red helium balloon floated up into the sky and pierced the cloud, like with Cupid’s arrow. I took this to be a sign that indeed our love was real. Then before my eyes the sky darkened and it started to sprinkle. A cloud ejaculation! That was one of the best sexual experiences I had ever had, and I’d had many. For a long time I never spoke to anyone about this experience. It was a love that dared not speak its name. Occasionally I would find people with whom I could talk about ecosex. My friend Michael L. confided that once when he was camping he had an affair with a bright yellow flower that grew outside his tent. He masturbated with, and ejaculated on the flower a couple times. When it the flower started to die from old age, it made him so sad that he ate the flower and they became forever one. My friend Andrew R. shared with me about his tree in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, which had a big hole in its trunk. He would sneak inside that tree, masturbate, and come inside the tree. He developed a very strong bond with the tree, a deep love. Jasmine D. a yoga teacher friend, told me about the day her boyfriend broke up with her. She was crying face down on the grass. Suddenly she felt the life force of the Earth shoot into her, which triggered a full body Kundalini orgasm, the biggest she had ever had, which was for her a profound, beautiful and healing experience. She never cried over that boyfriend again. Although I didn’t have a name for them yet, my ecosexual proclivities continued. Vegetables were a favorite dildo; namely the classic cucumber and the occasional carrot—I admit this was before we knew about washing off the pesticides. Water has always my favorite of the elements. On some special horny occasions, I’d lay on my back in the bathtub, straddle the faucet, turn on the water, and have beautiful watergasms. Or straddle a hot tub jet when I could find one. I loved doing clay masks, and to exfoliate in the shower with scrubs made of oatmeal, honey, lavender and rose. Steam baths, spa treatments with natural products, and aromatherapy scents made life extra pleasurable. As a sex worker I relished the occasional mud-wrestling photo shoot, the outdoor sex scenes, and the nice John with the yacht in the 79th street boat basin. In my personal life, having sex in the great outdoors was always a very special, all too rare, treat. Such was ecosex in the city. MY MERMAID YEARS Around my fortieth birthday the Sea began to beckon. “Come to me. You can’t resist me. Come to me. I want you.” Like the time I was in Scotland with my lover Mary. We were standing at the edge of Loch Ness looking for the monster when I heard, “Come to me, come to me…” My tears could not be withheld and Mary hugged me tight. “I feel so disconnected from nature,” I cried. “No wonder,” she said, “it’s the middle of winter for Christ’s sake.” But I knew it was more than that-- I was out of touch, and I knew in my heart that I had to get back to the Garden. So I inched myself away from Manhattan to live by the Sea. First I moved to East Hampton for a year. Then made my way to live in Provincetown where I fell in love with the humpback whales. After a couple years I was called to the Pacific Ocean, got a houseboat in Sausalito and lived right on top of the water, happily in rhythm with the tides. When my houseboat burnt down while I was out of town I learned about the power of fire. Free of material belongings, I took off with a male-to-female transsexual, named Captain Barb. We floated north on her fifty-five foot boat three years in a marina on Orcas in the San Juan Islands. I recreated myself as a mermaid. A WORK IN PROGRESS TO BE CONTINUED.

[krystynasierbien]

There’s a Glenn Greenwald in all our Heads — He Mustn’t Be Destroyed.

So you found my message in a bottle on Copacabana beach, or in the sea; which evidently you got in to ‘fetch’; Congratulations,

Hiya,

It is right now twilight in my leafy sanctuary, and the amphibian purr of the rainforest — that ethereal constant, by now so familiar and so dear I know that to it, I have surrendered an enclave of my being — has prompted first, inclination to cleanse these half century worn muscles with my nightly yoga skit on the porch as the dogs run around outside like mad cats beneath the encroaching romance of the moonlight, then the compulsion to write this letter, by hand and by candlelight to you, a complete stranger, with free time only a lack of internet access could realistically inspire.

You see it poured with rain earlier; there was yet another power-cut, and the lines have been down for hours now. Which is too bad. My sort-of-boss wanted to get in touch this evening to discuss whatever legal issues hover over my latest, and for that reason, presumably, LOL, still yet to be published article.

The delay’s all been thanks to The Deatheaters at GCHQ: Who once again have gotten in touch with their specious appeals to “wahhh, ah, don’t publish, national security!” when in this instance all they seem to want to do, in fact all they ever seem to want to do is cover their own sorry incompetent asses. And don’t get me started on Professor Sir David Omand De Pfeffel III or whatever his name isn’t — that guy. That sneering, contemptuous, duckbilled platypus of a man who, if not shuffling along the corridors of the War Studies department at Kings College London, mumbling to himself and his colleagues about “The Terrorists” can be found on UK television waving classified documents redacted to the point of incoherency in Channel 4 News’ John Snow’s face; lambasting him for “not covering the story accurately” and causing “needless fear and confusion.” Omand’s open disdain for the public is obscene and astounding. The UK is astounding. But would Omand debate me Live, and face to face, about the broader implications of mass surveillance at its current technological velocity, hmmm? No, of course he wouldn’t. Because obviously he knows that GG (emphasis MINE) would wipe the floor with him.

Stepping back, you know it’s actually quite funny, ironic even. I think? I’ve mentioned this in interviews before of course although it certainly bears repeating here too. My sort-of boss, this guy, this Ebay guy, Pierre Omidyar. Mmmm-hmmm, that’s right, get this: Well, Pierre can’t get in touch with me a lot of the time because of the outages, yet he’s a multi-billionaire computer and technology whizz with coalescing political, philanthropic and entrepreneurial goals (that’s PPE to you, British establishment! LOL.) The point is none of that stuff makes a difference here. Not money nor status nor expertise, and tidbits such as these keep me grounded. You know, those little reminders that even one of the most influential and tech-savvy people in the world, not to mention a bestselling author and journalist whom reports on cutting edge computer technologies as weaponised by the burgeoning global security state, aka yours truly, me, Glenn Greenwald, that’s right bitches, are subject to the whim of a tropical downpour and temperamental public infrastructure, just like everybody else. Which means often Pierre and I are unable to email or even call one other for this reason, let alone encrypt our communications. Hell — I can barely encrypt!

But no matter because here in the rainforest. The rainforest in which I live. The rainforest from which I conduct most of my adversarial business in between regular trips back and forth to the US to attend MSM interviews & a variety of public and private speaking engagements, nature’s obstacles usually prevail. And I respect that.

I love not man the less; but nature more. I love not man the less, but nature more. This quote, by Lord Byron of all people rolled over in my head as I walked the dogs today, and it seems to make more sense with the so-called passage of so-called time. Nevertheless civilisation, free speech, civility, order — not too much though — also justice, always justice, justice applied to the largest and yes at times even the most mundane aspects of public life, has really always been my passion. And yet still, still, I feel most at home in the lushness, solitude and natural lawlessness of the jungle; where civilisation’s most concrete hallmarks and affectations are relatively scarce. I am conscious of this duality and honestly I’m still not sure what to make of it. What I do know is that the eleven adorable rescue pups David and I adopted from the local santuário animal a couple of years back really have transformed our lives for the better. We feel a deep-seated affection for our unruly four-legged companions; who have become a necessary counterforce to the many stresses our working hours burden us with. Each has a unique personality and complex emotional needs. This is how I personally have experienced every dog I’ve crossed paths with in all my forty nine years. And you know what? To me that’s life affirming. You see the dogs help me help myself let go of all that rage. The kind of debilitating rage only interaction with you the people could ever insight (LOL).

The birds living here with us in this sprawling primeval forestry we call home love it when it rains, but they sing louder when it pours, and whenever they do, and whenever it does, echoes of real-life tweets streak through the sodden air and then into my grateful ears whenever the wind’s blowing in my favour. The humidity here reminds me of my home state Florida, a place I left an inordinately long time ago now. The strangest of personal circumstances tend to develop in the lives of Floridians who actually leave Florida by the way. The meme is true. I am, by no memes, an exception to this ‘rule’ and yes I’ve certainly led a variegated life so far. Like many if not most people have. It’s not that I’m secretive about my past, nor about how I got here either, per se. It’s just that it’s none of your damn business is it really. And I think perhaps you should respect that. Enough about Cocky Boys already, pedants. It’s been done. Twice already. Whatever.

I was a member elect of the *drumroll* Lauderdale Lakes City Council recreation advisory board by the time I was eight. So admittedly I’ve been aware of this ‘game’ for a long time now, starting my own journey on the other side of the public/private tracks before relinquishing my post a year later to pursue other projects, namely cub scouts, at age nine (LOL).

I ran for council even, unsuccessfully it would eventually transpire although boy did I learn a whole lot about US electoral politics during that election campaign, when I was seventeen. Growing up, my grandfather was a Lauderdale Lakes City councillor for many years — as far back as I can remember in fact — and it was from him I learnt that the principles and constitutional rights of all must be upheld ‘doggedly’ (LOL) no matter how odious that token, idea, or indeed even that person might be.

I’m actually a bigger picture kinda guy really, and I’m funny and nice as anything in real life. But I also know the intricacies of the system because I’ve been there, okay, an insider of various descriptions, with first hand experience of these institutions in operational flux as their representatives often superficially interact with, lie to and clash with one another. You have no idea how much of a mess all this is of course. But I do. I know the system’s geared towards the moneyed, the unashamed pursuit of the ego; that in a comparable sense the law exists to infantilise, imprison and fine the unruly masses while invariably loop-de-looping for those wealthier entities, who admittedly I jam with from time to time, even though it’s obvious, self-evident maybe, that even ‘The Good Billionaires’ see buying political power as but one manifestation of the natural order of things. Which troubles me of course. Only how much really? And what if they’re right? I’ve heard about the sinister echoes along D.C. corridors: I’ve seen the grubby fingermarks lining the walls and yes I’ve spoken to the beasts that frequent the hallways and the conference rooms. (Obama voice) I get it, really.

There really are glimmers of hope though and yet rarely do we ever focus on them. As I write these words a small but dedicated army of human rights activists and free speech lawyers are in perpetual battle with the encroaching security state to carve out and maintain as safe a legal space as possible for whistleblowers and political dissidents alike. These are people who use their skills for good. Who refuse to serve ‘corporate interests’ and choose instead to secure the rights of whistleblowers everywhere by bolstering as best they can the safety net that whistleblowers are legally guaranteed.

I upheld the constitutional rights of a corporation myself before. A tobacco company no less. Whatever god is knows that I have. But I soon realised I was emptier for it. That I was merely existing. I started to blog soon-after before upping sticks, leaving my life in New York along with a relationship that had sadly long since run its course behind, and moved to Rio in ’05, where I was blessed enough to meet my soulmate, David Miranda, and then find this wonderful paradise for us to live in before my ‘second-wind’ career of sorts really started to take off. And now the rest, as they say (LOL), is history.

I started blogging as online media began to challenge and disrepute the establishment press and, I think, redefine the global media order entirely. People liked my work (LOL); I managed to land the Salon gig; The Guardian one after that. There, I was able to draw attention to NSA mass surveillance as the story crescendoed. As the NSA insiders continued to come forward and as that constitutional gut punch, The Patriot Act, was finally being acknowledged for the abomination it so demonstrably was and continues to be within broader political discourse. However nothing could have prepared me for the Snowden thing and everything he has entailed since. It’s been the most insane thing. An admission here, just a small one because, well, I’ve been candid thus far and it only feels right that I continue in this vein. So here goes:

It actually wasn’t a Rubik’s cube Snowden was carrying with him in the hotel lobby the day we met. As the Oscar Winning film Citizen Four suggests. Nuh uh. Ed had a Rubik’s cube, which he’d planned to use for the purposes that we described to you in the film, only turns out that he lost it the day we arranged to meet. We filmed all that crap afterwards. He was closing a window in his hotel room that morning when he sneezed, and his natural response was to move his hand over his mouth, like any good boy would. As he did so, the Rubiks cube, which was in his hand at this point, I have no idea why and to this day neither does he — slipped from his grip, and then ricocheted off his cheek, somehow. As if in slow motion; right through the tiny opening in the window. I mean really, what are the odds?! He was in his hotel room on the 51st floor so obviously he couldn’t leave the building for security reasons. When Laura and I heard the news via p2p we were absolutely devastated. How could this even happen?

With only a small window (LOL) of opportunity to amend the plan; the only thing we could think of was thus: We would meet Ed in the lobby just as planned, but instead of holding a Rubik’s cube, he’d be the guy in the furthest right hand corner of the room, facing the wall. Slowly, but purposefully banging his head up against it. Only little did we know, at that exact spot, just three days previously a decorative Chao Gong had been mounted on that particular stretch of wall. So when we arrived, there Snowden was: A young, scrawny looking man (Laura & I had expected him to be of retirement age up to this point) stood there banging his head against it as three startled receptionists from the lobby-desk bustled frantically around him, offering a glass of water, pleading with him to take a seat. Laura, Ewen and I hurried over when we spotted him and when he did the same he followed us to the end of the lobby and then out into the hallway where we exchanged nervous, awkward, but sympathetic glances before stepping into the lift together, going up, exiting, and then walking up to the hotel room in complete silence.