12 Books Every Man Should Read

Reblog from CRISTIAN MIHAI

Whether sexual in nature, or books that deal on subjects such as family, history, or the relationship between men and women, these are must-read books for any man, true treasures of information when it comes to a man’s place in today’s society.

Memories of My Melancholy Whores
Gabriel García Márquez

It is almost impossible to read this short novel and not be moved by the life of G.G. Marquez’s main character. An old man wishing to feel alive, wishing to spend his 90th birthday in the company of a virgin woman, so full of life. How many have found love at a young age? How many have located it at 90? How many lived to be 90 years of age?

The day the old man meets his love, that’s when all fear of dying is obliterated. The simple act of contemplating a naked woman, without any sexual desires being involved, that’s what some of us might call love. Real love.

Memories of My Melancholy Whores need to be read at least once. Maybe more than once.

Two of Us
Alberto Moravia

Released in 1971, Alberto Moravia’s novel is all about the cold war between a man and the lack of performance of his organ. So to speak. Yes, this might shock the faint of heart, but this novel deals on subjects that are all too relevant in today’s world. A lack of self-worth, the idea of finding one’s physical appearance disgusting, the obsessive nature of man.

 

The 120 Days of Sodom
Marquis de Sade

 

The 120 Days of Sodom, or the School of Libertinage, was written by the Marquis in 37 days while imprisoned in the Bastille.  Considered the most perverse book ever written, a true encyclopedia of sexual excesses, a long time thought to be lost, it was finally published in 1904.

It is worth reading by those who believe that love-making is repetitive in nature, that one cannot imagine new pleasures (depends on how you defined them) into existence.

 

Emmanuelle
Emanuelle Arsan

 

Eroticism as a concept, as a code, as ceremony, as art, as science.

“No one is born anything. One must learn. Our way of becoming men, of mutating into men, is to reject our ignorance and our myths, like a hermit crab casting off its old shell, and don the truth like a new garment. Thus we can be indefinitely born and reborn. With each ‘abrupt mutation,’ we’ll be more human and we’ll remake our world to suit out pleasure better. ‘Learning’ is learning to enjoy. Ovid already said it, as you’ll recall: ‘Ignoti nulla cupido!’” (you cannot desire what you do not know), Nihil volitum nisi praecognitum (Nothing is wanted that was not previously known.)”

As Oscar Wilde said, everything in life is about sex. Except for sex. Sex is about power.

 

Dangerous Liaisons
Choderlos de Laclos

 

Published just years before the French Revolution, Dangerous Liaisons is a novel of moral and emotional depravity is a disturbing and ultimately damning portrayal of a decadent society. The Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont, two rivals (and ex-lovers) use seduction as a weapon to socially control and exploit others, all the while enjoying their cruel games and boasting about their manipulative talents. Merteuil challenges Valmont to seduce an innocent convent girl, all the while being occupied with the conquest of a virtuous married woman. Eventually, their human pawns respond, and the consequences prove to be more serious–and deadly–than the players could have ever predicted.

Often compared with Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Dangerous Liaisons has been adapted a number of times.

Sexus
Henry Miller

 

Or read some other of his novels. Tropic of Cancer or something. But you must read something by Henry Miller, if only to be dumbfounded as to how someone can be so pornographic, have such a disgusting way of describing certain depravities and such pitying views when it comes to certain characters, yet you cannot stop reading.

It is shocking, yet you must read more.

A brilliant writer, one of the most influential writers of the last century, Henry Miller deserves the most to be on this list.

Women
Charles Bukowski

 

“I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, ‘I’m going to pee.’ hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking; talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3am; being told you snore; hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce; but always carrying on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends; your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side and her doing the same; sleeping together” 

“I feel we owe Stormy more for her moxie than handfuls of sweaty singles.”

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The Stormy Daniels (And Melania Too) Effect  as published on HuffPost.com 8/26

Sex/human trafficking and the sex trade are themes I deal with in my Code Raven Series and particularly in my recent publication of Lie To Me an exposé on sex for money  I thought you might enjoy this provocative and witty article by Lily Burana, a feminist and fellow author, published in HuffPost today. 

 

Tucker Carlson (he who has crafted a lasting brand from bowtied White Male Grievance) was fuming on air the other night, Now that Stormy Daniels is part of the resistance, porn is noble!

Or something like that. I didn’t hear the exact words because I was too busy cackling smugly.

The statement seems to indicate that Carlson, prima facie Right-Wing Outrage, is heated up about not being able to make a partisan bitch slap out of a woman’s employment in the sex industry because she, apparently, is showing social (and political) capital above and beyond her lowly “ho” status. Baby boy angry cuz baby boy can’t slut-shame right now! You stay mad, Carlson!

Meanwhile, over here in feminist ladyland, I’m thrilled.

When it comes to how we talk (and joke) about women who’ve worked in adult entertainment, times are changing. Even stories in The New York Times are changing. Certainly, the courage that Stormy Daniels has shown in the face of incredible antagonism can be credited for this shift. Think what you will about her line of endeavor, but my God, her chutzpah in taking on Donald Trump is commendable.

But she’s not the only game-changer here. Melania gets a nod for this shift as well. She’s a woman who modeled nude (sometimes with other women in a hotsy-totsy, clearly-for-titillation configuration), and then, boom, there she was, years later, wife of a Republican magnate and devoted mother.

This has created a bracketing effect ― leftie porn star, right-wing former nude model ― that has muted the impulse to couch a political dig in a bimbo-bashing wrapper. Yes, the hypocrisy of Donald Trump being the head of a party that waves the “family values” flag while being such a creep himself has made its way into late-night monologues and political cartoons: I can’t believe Trump has the NERVE to work the CHRISTIAN ANGLE after he had AN AFFAIR with a PORN STAR. (Because it would’ve been a lesser betrayal if he’d bedded the local chapter president of the Junior League? Help me out here.) But it’s not as sticky of a comedic gambit as it would’ve been even 10 years ago.

I feel we owe Stormy more for her moxie than handfuls of sweaty singles.

Stormy and Melania having both created prurient adult material has, oddly, engendered a bipartisan truce around using sex workers as punchlines or moral lancets. Neither the right nor the left can slut-bash the other side, because each side has its own major presence who is, or was, working en dishabille. Thus, we can’t use that to make political hay. Between Melania’s nude girl-girl photo shoots and Stormy’s turn on the strip club stage and porn set, we’ve eased away from political slut-shaming.

Hallelujah, and may it ever be thus.

Melania, fused in marriage and image with all things Trump and silent as a cipher herself, is something of a suspect blank slate. There’s not much for us to attach to her except guilt by association. But the fact that she hasn’t issued some sort of mewling public apology for her nude modeling photos should be taken as a marker that she ― and the country of which she’s first lady ― is not convinced that any renunciation or mea culpa is required.

Then, we have the volubly sassy and articulate Stormy Daniels. She’s curiously sympathetic folk heroine: She seems to have accepted her lot in life with an admirable blend of pragmatism and good humor, and she has been presented in full 360-degree “actual human being” format in mainstream profiles. She’s a working wife and mother, protective of her child, and incensed by the hypocrisy and corruption of this administration. Add to that her appealingly curvy mom-bod and the pleasing softness to her facial features and you’re like, “You know what? I don’t need to be a jerk about her being a porn star. She’s flesh and blood like us, trying to keep it together while the country goes mad along with everyone else out here.”

Think what you will about her line of endeavor, but my God, her chutzpah in taking on Donald Trump is commendable.

The feminist view of how to treat and discuss women primarily known, willingly or not, for their sexual exploits has also shifted in a far more charitable and sympathetic direction. To have a roundtable of prominent feminists assemble to run down and ridicule such a woman in a major publication like they did with Monica Lewinsky in The New York Observer back in 1998, seems unthinkable now. Bimbo-baiting and shaming are entirely passé, as they have been revealed to be part of the patriarchal dictate to police, and even damage, other women’s lives through judgment. This type of censure through mockery is not a good look for women on either side of the so-called madonna/whore divide ― or either side of the political aisle.

Even normally censorious, socially conservative writers are taking heed and resisting the urge to make the character-assassinating, tongue-clucking cheap shot. Case in point: Professional scold Caitlin Flanagan laid off her usual troweling of disapproval in a May article in The Atlantic. The biggest arrow she dared fire was referring to Daniels as “an aging sex worker,” which from our stern, “the best birth control is holding an aspirin between your knees,” Catholic auntie CaitFlan is practically a pat on the head.

Historically, there has been so much unmitigated hostility toward any woman who does any form of sex work, at any level and for any reason, that if it takes a sense of partisan loyalty to stem the tide of vitriol and low blows, I’ll take it.

We seem to be growing up a bit, able to see now that on the grand continuum of moral “crimes,” female sexual adventuring is on the tame end directly opposite from, say, cratering an entire democracy through, you know, actual crime.

As for what the future holds for these two iconic women who’ve had the audacity to be both naked for money and fully human, I hope Melania has her own escape plan in place, to implement if and when the time comes.

For Stormy, it’s hard to say. In days of yore (you know, like in the 1980s and 1990s), a woman caught in the center of a sex scandal would be offered a royal sum to strip off for a major men’s magazine. Amidst the dwindling readership ― and budgets ― of skin mags, I doubt such an economic rocket boost still exists. However, if anyone deserves the million-dollar post-scandal pinup retirement package, it’s Stormy Daniels. In the absence of that opportunity, maybe she’ll get a big publishing contract for a book in which she can thoroughly examine her side of things (mama, if you need a ghostwriter, you call me).

Even normally censorious, socially conservative writers are taking heed and resisting the urge to make the character-assassinating, tongue-clucking cheap shot.

Regardless of the manifestation, I hope there’s a payout and I hope it’s plenty big. She’s out there capitalizing on her notoriety with her “Make America Horny Again” dancing tour at various strip clubs (and getting set up for arrest at one appearance), but I feel we owe Stormy more for her moxie than handfuls of sweaty singles.

This isn’t to suggest that we all now view adult entertainment as a job like any other job (it isn’t) or that speaking of the workers in the business with civility will transform porn into some amazing cool job that teen girls will choose instead of working at, say, Piercing Pagoda (it won’t). All it means is that we’ve been able (in this case, anyway) to realize slut-shaming is a zero-sum activity and that a hearty chuckle at the rich irony of the situation need not escalate into sick burns on the naked ladies involved. It means that where female sexuality is concerned, we’ve decided, collectively, to not be freaking mean for once.

Yes, there are plenty of bawdy laughs to be had in this trash-fire Trump administration, and let us take our delight where we may. Hit “share” on those “Trump’s Pecker Problem” headlines and the meme of Snoopy at his typewriter atop his doghouse, tapping out “And then, America was saved by a Porn Star. THE END.” We’ve been wounded and anguished for months, so we might as well yuk it up while we’re able. So yes, let us continue to find the humor ― just spare the usual (female) suspects the humiliation of being the butt of the joke.

These are strange days indeed, and we are finally seeing some glimmers of hope that our long national political nightmare may soon end. How wonderful it is to think we might just have the last laugh at an administration that’s a total joke. And how novel that an ever-so-slight uplift for so-called fallen women — of any political affiliation — might be the end product of misogynist folly.

 

Lily Burana is the author of four books, most recently Grace for Amateurs: Field Notes on a Journey Back to Faith (W Books/Harper). Follow her on Twitter @lilyburana.

 

You’ve got to be kidding me!

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Lynda Filler
Lynda Filler, Writer, Novelist, Top QUORA Writer 2018 at Lynda Filler Author (2009-present)

Interesting assumption. I think you might have missed the point of the investigation. As of his entry into the Manhattan Court House yesterday, he had something like 50 accusers. Personally, I watch, read and try to forget what’s going on. If you read my profile, I’m from the generation before all this happened. And believe me, it happened in my generation all the time. No one talked about it.

Most of the women who have spoken up were actually in a forced situation. Yes, some went ahead with it and I will explain that in a moment. But many ran away. Many left in a hurry. Many were backed into a corner by an extremely large man. How do you think you react to 250 lbs of aggression against 116 lbs? Power against a nobody, someone who’s career stands at the mercy of the MOST powerful man in Hollywood. Do you give in? Or try to run? When the thought runs through your mind that his enablers know exactly what is going on, so if you scream NO ONE IS GOING TO HELP YOU. And if you fight back, you’re banned forever from following your dreams. Just think about what kind of “consent” that entails.

The first time for me I was on a double date. We got separated as couples and my date and I were at a park ‘talking’. It was midnight. He tried to rape me. Thank God he believed my story (I said I had my period) and the promise to meet up the following week. I was 18 and he was a police officer of 24. It was in Ottawa Canada many many years ago. If something had happened, who would I complain to?

The second time, I was a very sad and frightened about-to-be-divorced 22-year-old woman at her lawyers. My ex had tried to smother me in a fit of anger. We were married for 6 months. But I saw a pattern and I ran out and never returned. That was traumatic enough. But when I went to sign my divorce documents, my divorce lawyer had his brother with him (another lawyer). It turned out that “I” was part of the payment for their divorce services.

I can go on if you’d like. My generation did nothing, said nothing because nothing would have been the result of a complaint. Imagine me accusing a police officer or two lawyers, or a photographer when I started modeling, or a business owner when I worked as a buyer for his 10 stores…

Do you want to know where I was for the year before I married? I became a missionary nun! I was Catholic and very religious. But the contemplative life was not for me for several reasons. There was no #MeToo movement in my day. The last thing any of us would have done was file a complaint.

So don’t tell me about consent, or partial consent or culpability. Tell me about compassion, and understanding and love. Tell me you can understand and for one single moment imagine that you have a daughter forced into a sexual act. There is no love, no desire, no agreement. There is absolutely fucking nothing except ‘get it over with and let me go’.

And that’s all I can say about the whole thing because I refuse to live with the anger and pain it caused in my life.

Although I do believe it led to a series of painful and worthless years of emptiness and a lifetime of looking for real love.

 

LOVE The Beat Goes On  If you are curious about my life and why my one word is  #LOVE

Wow! Powerful!

 

reblogged from NL Skye Warren Author.

http://www.skyewarren.com/newsletter/

Check her website out and subscribe to her wisdom!

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For women

The world tells us to be quiet from a very early age.

When the literature we read in school is written by men, and bookstores are dominated by books written by men, and laws are made mostly by men. You won’t say anything important, the world says, so you might as well not speak.

Be nice, be pretty, be quiet.

Most women who have dared to write a book has been told not to, a hundred times, a thousand ways. With words, with fists. We have been silenced a million times. And we fight back.

I’ve been blessed in this book world to be surrounded by women with voices, who use them, who encourage other women to use theirs.

You can’t write books, the world says.

These women say, I just did.

But the fight doesn’t stop there.

You can’t sell your books, the world says, speaking through the mouths of editors and agents and, most painful of all, other authors. There is always someone helpful enough to “tell it like it is,” to lower our expectations, and we’re supposed to thank them for it.

And then I see these same women, these brave, smart, talented women, say, “You’re right, I can’t.”

Why does this matter?

Why can’t we be content to write books but never earn a living from them?

Because “be content” is a not-so-subtle euphemism for “be quiet.” It’s just another way to say that our words will never be as important, as worthy, as valuable as a man’s.

A woman’s books are a hobby, but a man’s are a career.

It matters because the voices we most need to hear are the ones who are primary caregivers and work one job, two jobs, three jobs already. They need books to replace at least one of them or they cannot write them, and it DOES NOT HELP to tell them to be quiet.

I started this newsletter thinking if I could just help one woman earn a living through her books, it would be worth it. You can take your career to the next level—not with the luck of a viral book, but by learning marketing. Here’s how, here’s how, here’s how. Over forty emails about Facebook ads and release parties and newsletters.

It took me a while to realize I wasn’t fighting the lack of knowledge.

It gets me down, sometimes. It gets me down today. Because what I’m fighting is an entire lifetime of being told to be quiet, to be content. I can say here’s how until I’m blue in the face, but it won’t convince an author she can earn a livable wage if she’s already sure she can’t.

In the same way, you could write out every single thing you know about characterization and plot structure and language. But if you have that one family member or friend who always says, “I want to write a book,” but never does? That won’t help them. Because they are their own barrier. All of the knowledge about how to write books is already out there in the world, floating around the internet and libraries, so why doesn’t everyone who wants to write a book do it?

This is what I mean when I say that authors control our careers.

The good: that we can apply focused marketing to sell more books.

And the bad: that when we tell ourselves it’s impossible, it is.

Every single day there is a post that drops into my feed that sounds like this: I’m discouraged, sales are down, I might have to quit. I already know that [insert the best marketing techniques here] don’t work for me, and I just can’t [do a thing that is totally do-able], so what else is there?

There’s just no answer to that. Bless the authors who try. I used to be one of them, but I haven’t for a long time. I had to realize then, too, that it wasn’t a lack of knowledge.

It’s something else.

The same reason I told myself I was too busy to do this, or too stuck in my ways to do that, or too much of a control freak to do that. And if I’m a real artist, I don’t have to do any of that anyway. All of these ways I limited myself before I even got started.

I’m telling you this because if there’s something you want to do, an amount you want to earn, a number of books you want to sell, and you have not achieved that yet, you are your own barrier.  I am my own barrier. Somewhere along the way, someone told us we can’t, it might have been to hurt us or to “help” us, but they said it and we believed them.

So let’s just call bullshit on that. Collectively. Right now.

When you believe that you can, really believe, like with the same certainty that you know you could get up and drink a glass of water right now, and when you want it, really want it, like you’re dying of thirst, that’s when you’ll do it. Not before.

“Meet me at the door naked.”

 

I have the power to chooseI choose LOVE

I’m not the first person to be told I’m dying, or to get my affairs in order, or at most I have six months to live. But there’s something about my story that is resonating with readers. And one person tells another, and another, and buys a book for a friend or a family member. And that’s how it starts.

Birthing this book has been super emotional. How do I write a story that isn’t too personal or what should be kept private? What’s the difference between telling the truth, and telling my truthHow can I be true to myself and the reader without divulging potentially dangerous confidences?

So I waited to write this story. But I realized the time might never be right. I mean, if I waited to be sure that my healing “took” then I’d have to wait until…I never died? I know that’s just too weird. How do you measure a successful healing? When do you determine a safe time to say: I’ve been healed long enough to make the claim that I’m healed and therefore I can/will/should write my story now?

I started this blog, or rambling journal entry, because I think I know why so many can relate to my story. I’m so open, so raw. You can ask me anything and I will answer. I put it all out there, and suggest that you pick out the parts that you think will help you on your journey,  and throw away the rest.

Most of all I remind you that it’s all about LOVE. I have the power to choose. I choose LOVE.

It makes my heart sing to know that you can relate and that I have helped you or someone you love, in some small way.

What I really want to say is thank you.

 

 

Why didn’t I go to the police?

 

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I was 16 the first time. My girlfriend was dating a cop and he had a work-mate. She suggested we double date. The details are unimportant, let’s just say that before it got critical I talked myself out of the situation with promises of a future date. On a positive note, I look back on it now and know that’s when I realized I could have a career in sales!

The second time was my divorce lawyers—two brothers. Yes, my lawyers. I was 21. And after that, it was the photographer who wanted to shoot lingerie for my modeling portfolio. In those days, I would say I was a good Catholic girl—I’d even been a nun for a year! But I grew up quickly and really, I don’t think I ever thought of it as rape or assault; it was more of men I knew or trusted always trying to get to “third base” with pretty women.

I come from a different generation. I wasn’t a hippy but many around me were. Pot was prevalent, as was free love. Was I sexually harassed? For sure. And did they get to “third base?” Sadly, sometimes it seemed easier to just give in.

Today the stakes are higher. And the situations have become more controlling, frightening and violent. We can thank easily accessible debasing porn, the degradation of women, and the widespread sexualization of teenage girls. Society accepts and expects nudity from women. It’s almost the only way a young woman can be a success in the media today. It’s hypocritical but factual.

When I was young, you never talked about these things. Everyone had “an uncle” who looked at you weird. We talked about it amongst the cousins, but for the most part, it never seemed to go further than a “feeling” that something wasn’t right. Sexual assault was very much a behind-closed-door family event.

Harvey Weinstein is no longer on my radar although he has certainly stirred up old memories in many women not only from my generation but all generations. I always had to fight for equality in totally male-dominated fields like fashion: retail and wholesale. The bosses were men. And we knew, as women, that we had to move quickly and try to never be alone with the one that gave us the “look.” And that was 40 years ago.

But there are different levels of assault or abuse—the ones from people you know, and extremely violent attacks from a rapist. And like a bad marriage, a bad boss or someone in a position of power that can control your destiny, it’s a very frightening experience that can leave you damaged for life. I think I was one of the lucky ones. I let it all go a long time ago and have no desire to revisit any of it except to make a point. There is nothing new about what is coming to light in the media today.

For years men have been sexually assaulting their wives. We all know a woman who was hurt by her husband. She forgave him, and he hurt again—emotionally, physically and/or sexually. We’ve lived with it our whole lives only we never really talked about it.

Why am I writing about this today? Terry Richardson a world-famous photographer—famous for his sexually explicit photo shoots, has been accused of molesting, masturbating, assaulting for years. And the industry allegedly knew it. Some magazines took the allegations seriously and stopped working with him–but only in the last few years. Others didn’t. Sound familiar? Today Huffington Post reported:

Condé Nast International, the company that publishes Vogue, GQ and W, confirmed to HuffPost it will no longer work with fashion photographer Terry Richardson, who has been accused of sexual assault or harassment by multiple women. The news was first reported late Monday night by The Telegraph, which obtained an e-mail to country presidents from Condé Nast’s executive vice president and COO, James Woolhouse:

 Mr. Woolhouse wrote: ’I am writing to you on an important matter. Condé Nast would like to no longer work with the photographer Terry Richardson.

’Any shoots that have been commission[ed] or any shoots that have been completed but not yet published, should be killed and substituted with other material.

‘Please, could you confirm that this policy will be actioned in your market effective immediately. Thank you for your support in this matter.’

Condé Nast International, which confirmed the wording of the email to HuffPost but declined to comment further, was one of a number of companies that continued to work with the controversial photographer for years after women came forward with accusations of sexual assault and harassment

 

In 2001, model Liskula Cohen walked out of a photoshoot for Vogue after she said Richardson asked her to get completely naked, while he was also naked, and pretend to perform a sex act on another man. A woman named Anna told Jezebel in 2014 that he pressed his penis against her face during a shoot in 2008. Former model Charlotte Waters told Vocativ that he ran “his tongue up and down her bare ass, demanded she squeeze his balls and even jacked off into her eye” when he photographed her in 2009.

In 2014, model Emma Appleton shared a message purporting to come from Richardson in which she was offered a Vogue photo shoot in exchange for sex.

A spokesman from Condé Nast U.S. told HuffPost Tuesday morning that “Condé Nast has nothing planned with him going forward,” adding that “sexual harassment of any kind is unacceptable and should not be tolerated.” (a little late to be saying that Condé Nast. Worried about lawsuits??)

Many in my generation–baby boomers–felt powerless, angry, and defeated; but we knew there was absolutely nothing that would be done. It was his word against ours, so we had to let it go and live with the memories.

It’s so much more than sexual assault. It’s emotional assault. It can be debilitating and last a lifetime. You can heal the body, but memories linger forever. Do you think all this talk is going to change this type of male predatory behavior? I would like to believe things will change, but I don’t. I think it will be pushed underground like all other vices that have been declared criminal. This type of behavior has been illegal for a long time, and no one stood up for the victims before some very powerful men were exposed this year.

So, what’s going to happen? Tons of lawsuits. Victims will be more open and get the therapy they need. Will those on the fringes–not yet exposed–seek counseling, and change their ways? I doubt it. Maybe they will think twice or be more careful of how and when they stalk their victims. And then again, maybe they won’t.

 

 

 

Photo Canstock

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/terry-richardson-conde-nast_us_59ef3c58e4b0d14acdcc7a73?ncid=inblnkushpmg00000009

Body Guard

 

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Body Guard

 

w h i s p e r i n g

a song, a word, a tease

messages meant for many

lonely women

wounded birds flocked

 

promises of light, love eternal

cloaked in comfort, sexual innuendo

earthy pleasures

u n r e q u i t e d

sensual desires

a l w a y s  d e n i e d

 

it’s been years

unbearable lonely years

 

how many sunrises

have I watched

without you

how many nights

have I lain alone

wishing you were near

that I might kiss your heartbeat

wishing I could stroke your hand

fill your soul with my love

 

the yearning I feel for you

o v e r w h e l m s

f a n t a s i e s

of how we would fill

every part of each other

play over and over

in my mind

 

body guard

make love to me

 

 

What’s the most important thing you’re working on right now, and how are you making it happen? Q

 

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I’m working on two projects. The first is a manuscript, working title: SEX for MONEY—Rent-a-boys in Mexico. I wrote this story a few years ago and put it aside. I’m editing now and being brutal on my edits.

A freelance writer moves to Puerto Vallarta to pursue her curiosity about the male sex trade—what type of men sell themselves and why women pay for it. Through a series of interviews and sexual experiences, she finds herself on a dark journey into her own beliefs on sexuality and love.

It’s deeply personal and highly sexual. It’s a different write for me but in the editing, I’ve come across sections that take my breath away.

If I’m ever discouraged about the long road to success in writing books, I go to Amazon and read my reviews. After all, it’s about the pleasure my readers get when they read, right?

The second project is a series of shorter books on Women: sexuality after 50, successful living, creativity and spiritual/soul development. I love these non-fiction subjects that I touched upon in my extremely well-received Memoir/Self-help book LOVE The Beat Goes On. I wanted to delve deeper in the hopes that women know they are not alone in their journey of self-development. We are all in this together.

Yes, I’m busy and at times question myself, my work and the direction life is taking me. We all have self-doubts but the key to success for me is

  1. making a plan—Schedule the writing/editing/cover etc.
  2. doing the work—reading & deleting my rambling babies
  3. writing one page after another even when I’d rather watch Netflix
  4. keeping myself motivated by listening to other authors, their challenges and how they kept on doing the work rejection after rejection
  5. keep my eye on the vision board
  6. and never, ever giving up

Broken Hearts & Naked Selfies

 

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I LOVE that scientists have been testing the theories I’ve known in my heart to be true! The article referenced below is a study done in the UK about the effects of sudden loss on the physical heart.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/06/18/time-does-not-mend-broken-heart-scientists-find-condition-causes/

But… LOVE can heal it. Let me tell you why. I am my own study or WIP. And have my own theories as to why a heart given six months to live in 2008 still functions, quite beautifully I might add, in 2017! One of the things I stress in LOVE The Beat Goes On, my book on healing from Idiopathic Dilated Cardiomyopathy, is LOVE.

 LOVE in all its forms can both damage and I believe heal a physical heart.

When I was guided to write my story in 2016, I wrote it out with trepidation. It’s sort of like taking a naked selfie and looking at all the flaws. The real deal is the photo is meant for someone who loves you and only sees your beauty. It turns out that my “story” has been received in the same way. Those who’ve read the book see it for it’s love and honesty and ignore the author’s naiveté.

I cover the journey, not just the diagnosis and healing, but how I think I became ill  in the first place. “Idiopathic” means the doctors have no idea “why” my heart was functioning at 28% EF—that means pumping blood at about half it’s normal rate… swollen…stressed to the max. Sometimes it’s childhood trauma, or alcoholism, or smoking, or whatever… But the doctors couldn’t find any specific cause.

I have a secret: I’d been walking around with a problem heart for years. I kind of knew it from an EKG in the nineties that showed an irregular heartbeat. I had an appointment with a specialist right after that EKG and he said I was in good shape “for a 70 year old” when I was under fifty! He made a follow up appointment for months later. I felt okay; and in Canada appointments with specialists can be months apart, and I was working, and, well, you know what happened. Until I literally had the heart attack in early 2008, I forgot about that EKG and never went back to see a heart doctor.

I believe your journey, or your “story” is often what triggers dramatic illnesses in the body.

I think that’s something that more and more of us, and even the medical profession, are beginning to understand. Your story might not necessarily entail the loss of a loved one. It can be anger you carry around against an ex or parent or abusive adult. It might be the loss of a marriage, a cheating spouse, a money issue, a bankruptcy, the loss of your career. All these things if you allow them to build up trigger emotional and often physical damage to your body. The scientists are doing studies and lending credibility to my theory; but if you wait for the science to do something about it, you could be dead.

 

 

LOVE The Beat Goes On     Lynda Filler

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