I woke up wondering why Carol Queen interrupted the threesome I was about to join, the two ready and waiting bodies being Madonna and the boy my brain shaped up to be her much younger lover. They were calling to me and Carol was in the red white and blue latex outfit she wore to the Erotic Exotic Ball when I worked the booth with her for GV, years ago (I went to bed last night after having looked at the pictures buried in my computer of that event, and others).
“Jameson,” she said, top hat moving to the side as her head tilted with the question, “why are you doing this? Is this what you really want? Look at me, not at them,” as my gaze drifted to Madonna giving head to her well hung and dark haired man. “You need to think about what you’re doing. Don’t lose sight of what you really want, of what matters.” She looked concerned. Her funky Carol Queen glasses caught the light in their rhinestones and threw it in jumps and jolts across the room.
I woke up excited, then woke up further, confused. Remembered a piece I had forgotten about grabbing some woman’s hips as she straddled mine. Got excited again, then confused more. Madonna? And Carol Queen? In the same dream?
I think the guy was paid to be there, I remember, and there may have been two of them.
And what it means, to me; my guess:
Parts of my life feel like selling out, giving up on what I want to do and where I want to be for what I’m doing well and what I could continue to do well. I create a dichotomy, quickly, in my head, of corporate world vs. sex world, and in that contrast the sex world is where I belong and the corporate world is where I am.
But that dichotomy, like all dichotomies, holds little truth. Madonna –to me– is as grossly corporate sex as you could get, like ten marketing and PR people at the top of their game meet once a week and decide what her next move will be to keep her reign supreme. And Carol Queen, dear sweet idolized-by-yours-truly-for-years, Carol Queen is as uncorporate sex as you could get. Both are technically a part of the sex world, but are so different from each other.
The sex world is big and wide, and I don’t fit well in some parts of that world, just as I don’t fit entirely in the corporate segment I’m in now. Perhaps the corporate world deserves room for variance. Perhaps there is an in between that would let me do what makes me happy and push further what I’m already doing well. Maybe I don’t need to sell out the part of myself that’s good at being smart-business-pants the same way that I’ve sold out bits and pieces of being smart-sex-pants.
Lessons for me: recover what I’ve lost, relearn what I’ve forgotten, remember what’s important. Write, love, read, cook, fuck. Don’t be afraid to succeed, don’t be afraid to let go of successes I might not want.
Lessons for everyone: Remember what makes you happy. Love, read, feed yourself what nourishes you most. Don’t have a threesome with Madonna. Remember your dreams.
have sweet ones tonight,
jameson.
