Confessions of Sexpo

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These nameless confessions from Sexpo I hope will inspire, confront and comfort. We all have a story to tell and I had the amazing privilege of listening to these beautiful people.

1. The Poet

He came in as soon as the doors opened on day one with eyes searching.

‘I used to write poetry’ he said with excitement in his voice but then he turned away and looked down.

‘But my muse left me’

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Sexpo


I feel so lucky to be here and yet I’m so far away from anyone I love, this is truly an epic adventure of heart and mind for me at Sexpo Perth.  This isn’t how I start my seminar out loud but maybe I should have!

Day One

Sales are going well and before I am due to go on some angels come to visit me. One is Madison Missina her strong charisma always projected a few feet ahead, she also talks at the share center and is a proactive safe sex advocate.  Madison takes the sexpo tours, holding the hands of the curious, encouraging their intrigue with every step. Then I catch Isabelle Deltore, she looks beautiful as always and tells me how busy she’s been and how she needs a break as always though her energy is high, racing around as fast as her motorbikes!  She joins myself and Jack, a historian and we discuss his three published books.  Sexpo really is soup for the soul, a mixture of the caring, curious and conscious.

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Black Ink


Notes on a poem

Pain is the spilt pot of black ink that covers everything and yet is not always apparent to the naked eye.  The bearer of pain is the only person who knows its origin and holds the key to unlock the door to happiness.  However pain is a fuel, a wonderful weapon of manipulation.  Always holding it’s power over others. Poor me, poor you, poor us.

Pain unlocks your pain but then where does it go? Are you beholden to him?  Does it occasionally surface as a reminder of how not to live?  A dear friend now poisoned.

Do you cling to the knowledge of a dark familiar place or follow a light that is wavering and uncertain?

After all knowledge is power and so now your power has gone.

Happiness is just those few notes you got right, never once did it make a song.

Pain is the uncertainty of happiness, just out of reach.  A warm and loving gift.  Touched words to soothe the dark in so many women’s lives.  Another powerful kind of control.

How can we know if it is true or if a yoyo of black and white will always occur?

Blind faith is all we have and a little courage that falling from a place so close to the sun would surely be a flight worth risking.

Lyrics of Faith this is the poem or lyrics!

Enjoy x

 

 

Games of Love

Games People Play is a book I enjoyed reading whilst I was studying.  Berne explores transactional analysis by way of the parent, adult and child.  I on the other hand decided to take a slightly broader look at who my characters chose as partners, their parent, child or equal.

Lets start with Milla, she thinks she wants a parent to look after her and so looks for men with power unfortunately it soon becomes clear that she will always be the victim in this situation.  Then along comes Tabatha, she doesn’t control Milla, she lays back and enjoys Milla’s courage. Tabatha is strong enough to be her equal and so neither has to fall into the victim persona.

Stacey is the mum in all aspects of her life and craves to be the child, the one who is looked after.  She doesn’t want to give her power up completely and so this relationship can only ever be casual, this way she is still in control of her life and others.

Sharon has succumb to her child fantasies with Lenny, as he worships her and keeps her captive.  Her fun in the cellar has fueled her power and now she wants to explore the world and needs a more experienced ‘Daddy’ to lead her, Harry gladly accepts her hand.

Tabatha wants to play the adult so badly she is striving for this, to be the best she can be and takes every opportunity.   When she realises that Rick wants a parent she looks elsewhere, she doesn’t want that responsibility because she knows it will weigh her down.

So what role is Harry playing?  The parent to them all, he loves the power and for a while he relies on his equal at home, his wife Lin but what happens when he has no equal?  When Lin decides it is her time to grow and not be held back by her ‘child’ Harry’s world starts to fall apart, no one has his back any more and he starts to slowly unravel.  Will Sharon be able to take on the role, is she strong enough? Or will Harry finally take control of his life, his emotions and himself.

What game are you playing? Is it your best?

My novel Sharks & Lovers is available here; AmazoniBooksKobo

Petrifying Truth

Every work of fiction is based on a truth.  There are many things I am learning, whilst I write but the truths that I learn every week are by far the most interesting.

I read aloud my book at the writers group I attend and listen carefully to the other members work. I have never been comfortable speaking in front of a lot of people. However I am comfortable reading my book, it’s part of me now. We all share our souls, some pain and some love.  In all of our work even when fictional and funny there is a truth that we share.  How powerful the written word is when the writing is honest and we are really listening.  It cuts through the mess, can disrobe the barer, it can even disrobe the listener if they are willing.

As well as my book, I read one of my blog pieces out last week and had to read the word petrified.  I had practised the short piece at home a loud before hand and it was fine.  However as we went around the table and I knew my turn was coming I could feel my stomach tighten.  It was my turn and as I started to read my throat got dry and my voice was shaking, I came to the word I did not know until now was a problem, petrified.  As I said the word aloud my hands were shaking, I was an eleven year old again, petrified.  My throat seized and the anger rose from my stomach, I shook my head and let out an exasperated sigh.  I passed the writing to our teacher and he carried on reading it. I knew if I could get past the word the end was sure to get a laugh and it did but just not from me.

It is amazing how one word can hold onto a memory as if you are still there, but we are not still anywhere.  We can only be in this moment, yes we can remember and yes we can project into the future but we can only ever be right here, right now.  I have practised that word over and over in front of the mirror and it now has no hold over me, I wonder if everyone has one word they find hard to say aloud?  If they are even aware of it?

At the end of our road is a beach that is supposedly a nudist beach.  I have only ever seen people walking their dogs or playing with their children, it is hard to think that these people in a couple of months when the sun is hot will be naked.  However if they are, good for them. I can understand the liberation of being unclothed. That is their truth, however lumpy or bumpy, wobbly or knobbly. How beautiful to let it all hang out and be comfortable with every inch of your skin, every inch of your being.  I’m not sure I am ready to brave the nudist beach, however I will keep writing my truths and baring my soul, if not my skin just yet!

My book Sharks & Lovers is available to download here:

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