w-hole

a little piece of the hole

EDDY MICHAEL DEANE | DIRECTION | DEVELOPMENT | DESIGN
wholeddy@gmail.com | 503.960.1230

em deane

Routine

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No, I do not like routine, especially obligatory routine, as in I must  _____ every _____. FIll in the blanks how ever you like, even with really good stuff, and as soon as must/every works into the dynamic I’m done. but I do do things over and over, usually in some binge fashion. And I have recurring rituals — I make coffee and return with it to bed pretty much every morning. I love it. I love to do it. But I am in no way obligated to.

Now, I don’t mind having to do something, even something difficult, like today — I must make cornbread for stuffing, photograph the Memorial Coliseum at sunrise, design an art auction catalog. After I finish my coffee.

Myth

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Ryan/Jetha, Sex at Dawn:

The word myth has been debased and cheapened in modern usage; it’s often used to refer to something false, a lie. But this use misses the deepest function of myth, which is to lend narrative order to apparently disconnected bits of information, the way constellations group impossibly distant stars into tight, easily recognizable patterns that are simultaneously imaginary and real.

There seems to be a little nip in the air

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I once pursued my mild but extremely titillated interest in BDSM by having a “session” with a very experienced dominatrix. She was an acquaintance from my social circle, and, as it turned out, a rather well and highly regarded member of the BDSM community on the national level, as a submissive, rather than a dom. She had apprenticed for years as a sub to a renowned dom in New York, for whom she travelled regularly around the country to various events. Our session, in the context of the above, was rather small potatoes for her.

Me, I was thinking more along the lines of an erotic encounter with BDSM fashion trappings. But in the spirit of adventure and exploration, I was willing to go along with whatever happened; I trusted she would not do any permanent damage. [Read more…] about There seems to be a little nip in the air

Bunny

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I remember walking into our house on Juanita Avenue in Redondo beach one afternoon and finding my father sitting on the couch with a woman. I must have been four years old. I’ve had to piece together some understanding of the event as an adult, and only began thinking seriously about the logistics of it recently, so here is some background as I have reconstructed it from memory.

When I was four my family lived on Juanita Avenue in Redondo Beach. It was a very different time, 1960, and things were a bit looser vis a vis kids in those days. I realize now that I must have been under the care of Mrs. Golding, who lived a few houses down from us. I don’t remember ever going to a nursery school, or being taken elsewhere while my mother was working as a substitute teacher. But I do remember spending a lot of time at the Goldings’, going to a shopping center with Mrs. Golding and her son Danny, watching and listening to one of the Goldings’ Mexican laborors play the guitar slouched back on the couch (oh, my first guitar exposure!). [Read more…] about Bunny