Moving, Miss Panic’s birthday, thoughts.

So today should be a very fun day at Holy Mountain- we are celebrating the glory of the existence of Miss Panic! I’m sure it’ll be a great party. I’m going to try my best to come (you can meet me, yay), but it may not work out (sad). This has everything to do with I’m in the middle of moving this weekend, and nothing to do with anything else.

My new house is a converted warehouse with lots of secret rooms! There is, for instance, a whole room full of bricks! There is also a private roof the size of a parking lot, two stages, a piano, and a bathroom with a swing. I have a fantasy of filling the bathroom with tropical birds, who will in turn flock to the swing, and fill the room with Xtabay-esque cries while I bathe and shower. Just picture the steam and the colors! Ah, the steam and the colors.

I had a dream the other night about birds, but they weren’t tropical. I was living in a decaying house on a flooded island, and it was a bit like how I picture the casa in Donoso’s The Obscene Bird of Night (one of my favorite books, btw), almost a city unto itself in the midst of a city built around it. Obviously the owner of said place in my dream, like in OBON, had long since lost the majority of their prominence and all respect paid to them by the people of the village was more out of a need for tradition than out of actual economic/social injustice.

The owner of the casa in my dream was an older man, and my primary reason for living there with him was to tell him how to make the most of his decaying empire; you could see an ocean so blue it almost blinded into a grey, and there were thousands of these tiny, green, yellow, and blue birds. They had bodies the size of hummingbirds, but wingspans about the size of African Grey’s.

At one point in my dream, I was running through this train tunnel (there was an old trolley kind of train with a tunnel that stopped at the casa), looked up, and realized that there were hundreds and hundreds of these tiny birds lining the ceilings, with their wings pinned back like how people display butterflies. However, unlike the butterflies, pressed in glass and dead, these birds were still alive and trying to flap their wings against the wires, and the sound of the strained flapping echoed almost infinitely. As soon as I noticed what was happening, other birds, the same sort, came and started to bite and pull the wires out of the pinned birds, and even though there was some blood, the pinned birds were all set free and flew back towards the ocean.

I want to get a tattoo now of a pinned bird being freed by another bird. It would be so beautiful! I relate to bird’s anyway. Whenever I read my Loteria cards (kind of like Tarot, but more free association than strict interpretation; Loteria is actually a game, but in some folk magic, they can be read to tell the future, get advice, etc.), I always pull a card of a green and yellow bird to represent me.

The image was striking to me for a number of reasons, apart from my own affinity with birds. Obviously having been trapped for the beauty of the size and shape and color of their wings, it would be easy for the birds to resent their position as lovely creatures. They may internalize their bitterness at a world that would pin them for being rare and gorgeous, and subsequently come to hate themselves and their appearance. However, it was their mirror image, the other birds, that came and set them free. The cuts and injuries to their wings in the process would always differentiate them from the other birds, but ultimately, it just made me think of the position of women in society, and how even though being a beautiful woman can restrain you and damage you, in the end, your beauty can be a freeing gift. Often it is the things you have been made to abhor within yourself that can save you. Sometimes the break-up between display object and free entity leaves scars on you; but they heal and you and your mirror can fly to the ocean together.

This relates to my domming, because I see Femdom as a relative situation to these birds. Beautiful women, who, as women in a patriarchy, are often pinned so that our wings can bring visual pleasure, or financially pinned so that our bodies can bring physical pleasure. We learn to hate ourselves and feel disgusts with the bodies that become our currency. We learn to stop struggling against the wires that bind us and tell ourselves that we enjoy the attention, while not enjoying what defines us on our terms, not the world’s.

Femdom, to me, as a woman, is about rejecting this kind of existence and allowing beauty, poise, and intelligence (big reasons for pinning women/birds), to free me, instead of inhibit me- to give me the power that is mine to return to my ocean, instead of relaxing against wires driven inside of me and hoping someday they weaken. The flight is beautiful and the beholder is blessed. Those men who submit to women are those who truly understand and revere those who can free themselves, who by knowing freedom can free others, if they’re open to it.

Anyway, I know I’m just rambling, but I woke up and wanted to share my dream with everyone. See you at HM later, hopefully, and if not, tell Miss Panic Happy Birthday and give her something nice!

Waking up, no makeup.

Thus spake Azusza.