September 7th, 2002

Chalkboard

How Long Does It Take a Broken Heart to Heal?

Writing about, talking about, or even thinking about my ex is just poisonous to my heart and soul. It hurts, it drains me of energy, and it drags me back into the swamp of hope, pain, despair, and longing that I lived in for so long. Very familiar territory. Not that I'm hoping or longing anymore. I have a wonderful partner who I love, with whom I am so much happier than I ever was with my ex, a man instead of a child, well, most of the time, and someone who treats me stratospherically better than Robby ever did, but it still hurts. The abandonment, the rejection, the cruel disappearance, the way he treated both of us in the end. It still hurts.

I try not to write about it too much. It used to be one of my favorite subjects here. I needed to process all of it so badly. Needed a place to get it out, share it with other people. Now it's just this familiar heartache that confuses me, prickles at the edge of my consciousness. It fades and drifts in and out, the power to whither me diminished, but still there nevertheless.

Last night I wrote about him and did something I haven't done in a long time. I looked up his name on the Internet. Robby Carrillo, Robert Carrillo, Robert D. Carrillo, RDC. I found a tantalizing little bit of torture, something on subkultures.net, a sentence really and all it said was this, "Everyone knows Robby Carrillo is a porn freak." Like I needed to know that. Like I didn't know that. But when I followed the link it was missing. God/Nature/Spirit is sparing me a glimpse of some wounded teenage girl's writings about him. It's always like this, I search and I find something hurtful and restimulating, or something sad and mean, something that reminds me that I was in love with someone I never knew. He was a wisp, a ghost, someone I thought I understood, but now I see how truly blinded I was by my obsession to be with him, to be loved by him, to be secure.

He doesn't deserve all this lingering attention from me, he never did. He was sweet sometimes and funny. He was my friend, my companion, my lover. He was reasonably good looking and charismatic but he was dumb, immature, cruel, selfish, disloyal, hurtful, and he was a rotten lay. It embarrasses me that it's taking me this long to process all of this out of my soul, maybe I never will, I mean we shared some important history together, we created a life together, we were together for sixteen years. He was my first real relationship, I was his fifth or sixth or something like that, who really knows.

I just want the pain to stop. I want to stop caring. I want to be Demi to his Bruce, Meg to his Dennis, but he makes that impossible, by his continued neglect, his not choosing to contribute in any real way to the care of his son. And I want to let go of the part of myself that cares what he thinks of me, that hides and won't see him, even when he comes to pick up our son, because I don't want him to see how fat I've gotten. I want to be beautiful and have him hurt the way I did. I fantasize I will have this operation and he will see me, and then he will finally realize what he lost. Isn't that a pathetic fantasy? Wanting a man I no longer want, I no longer respect, to want me, because I am prettier? Isn't it a terrible shame that I have a man, a wonderful man, who loves me for myself, who really sees me, sees through the external me, sees beyond that and finds me beautiful, and yet my torn heart wants validation in some way from this other man? Wants him to find me beautiful, wants him to be sorry for the terrible pain he inflicted on me for so long, wants him to grow up and admit responsibility, see where he went wrong, stop blaming me for everything, and be a good man, a good example for, and a good father to his son.
Chalkboard

(no subject)

Burning Man gets hot over steamy videos

Court TV) -- Each year before Labor Day, thousands of artists and seekers gather in the Nevada desert to experience a world beyond the constraints of everyday life. The fete, culminating with the burning of a 40-foot effigy, is called Burning Man, and it is billed by organizers as an "experimental community, which challenges its members to express themselves."

This self-expression takes the form of art, song, dance, theater -- and nudity. And where there's public nudity, there are bound to be cameras.

Enter Voyeur Video. For the past three years, the company has been filming nude women at the festival and selling the videotapes on its Web site. The organizers of Burning Man call this trespassing, trademark infringement and invasion of privacy, among other offenses, and they're suing the company. They accuse Voyeur of distributing "pornography and sexually explicit videos" while saying that Burning Man is a "social and spiritual event," according to court documents.

Voyeur's president, however, sees no harm in what his company does and does not consider it pornography.

"We just shoot what goes on. Just a bunch of happy naked videos," said the president, Jim O'Brien, a 40-year-old Los Angeles resident and self-described nudist. "Consider us a news company."

Voyeur Video, which O'Brien founded in 1989, currently offers 12 Burning Man videos at $29.95 each. The tapes -- sold on Voyeur's Web site alongside such titles as "Kinky Nude Beach Day" and "Springbreak Stripoffs" -- show naked women being painted, dancing and taking group showers, while the cameramen make comments like "Man, this is like Playboy," according to the suit.

Although the suit seeks an undisclosed amount of money, the event organizers' main concern is to "stop the marketing and distributing of the tapes," according to Terry Gross, a San Francisco attorney representing Burning Man in the suit.

The festival has made its feelings on such tapes clear, say its representatives. At the gates of the festival site, there is an 8-by-4-foot sign reading "No Commercial Use of Cameras Without Permission," according to Marian Goodell, the event's director of business and communications.

Videotaping is allowed for personal and some professional use, but only under contract. Goodell said she issues about 700 personal contracts and 100 professional each year.

"We don't want commercial relations. We don't need that clientele," said Gross, adding that CNN and MTV have been turned down in the past, and Voyeur was never granted a contract.

When Burning Man found out about Voyeur's videos in 1999, it threatened to sue if the selling did not stop. Instead of stopping the sale, Voyeur changed the festival's name on its Web site, the suit alleges, to "Rainbow Fire Festival," but kept the description. ("Rainbow Fire Festival is all running around naked and exposing yourself in front of your peers," the Web site now reads.) When the tapes were delivered, however, the "Burning Man" name was still labeled on the cassette and in the opening credits, according to the suit.

The festival, which began on a San Francisco beach with just 20 participants in 1986, has grown to more than 25,000 people of all ages. Held over the course of a week prior to and including Labor Day weekend, participants create massive sculptures and other visual and performance art. The event also aims to create a temporary community, where people must rely on each other for basic sustenance.

"Burning Man is unique in a lot of respects. The conditions are very harsh: No ATMs, no food [sold]," Goodell said, noting that the event is held in 100-degree weather and 100 miles from the nearest town. "People are put in a situation where they need to communicate."

Only about 10 percent of the participants take their clothes off, estimates Sunny Minedew, an independent film producer from Reno who was given permission to film the festival's arts and costumes. O'Brien says the percentage is closer to 50 percent.

O'Brien himself was the cameraman at Burning Man in 1997 and 1998, according to court documents, but for three years afterward, the tapes were purchased from freelancers, who make up to $1,500 for their raw footage, according to the "Jobs" portion of the Web site. Voyeur will not be present at this year's festival, which begins Monday.

Although he would not comment on the tapes, O'Brien said he was being "picked on" by the festival.

"I don't believe it's private at all. If it was, there'd be invitations. I compare it to Mardi Gras," he said. "We're helping them out. I'm sending them customers."

Unlike Mardi Gras, whose main events are free, Burning Man charges $135 to $250 for the week-long event. And the tickets are clearly marked with the warning, "Commercial use of images...is prohibited." Gross, Burning Man's lawyer, argues that just by accepting this ticket, Voyeur is legally bound to comply.

But in court documents, Voyeur's lawyer, Geoffrey Berkin, calls this "contract by ambush."

This isn't the first time Voyeur Video has had complaints from its videos' "stars."

On Oct. 7 last year, Brooklyn photographer Spencer Tunick, who travels around the world documenting nude bodies en masse, had 4,300 amateur models lined up in Melbourne, Australia, when Voyeur Video arrived on the scene to get its own video.

"I don't want to be on that site," Tunick told the Herald Sun, an Australian newspaper. "Nor do I want the people who posed for my art piece to be on that site."

Tunick, who told the paper he could not afford to hire a lawyer, didn't take his grievance as far as a lawsuit. But Burning Man's organizers plan to be in court Sept. 6 for a hearing on their complaint.

Said Goodell, "We don't encourage radical self-expression so people can find themselves for sale in a video store."
Chalkboard

Mundane Chatter About Makeup and Moving

Woah I just noticed something, I'm sitting here doing my makeup, (we're going to see Puppetry of the Penis) and my eyes don't match. One is droopier than the other and
I've plucked my eyebrows differently. OMG what does this mean? Waaaaaaaa, *panicked Jacqui runs flying around the room, calms down*. Does this mean I'm turning in to Shannen Doherty or Mellissa Joan Hart, or is my part of my brain melting, or am I seriously split between my left and right hemispheres? I think if you did one of those split face photographs I would look like two totally different people, both of them fabulous of course! Neh, just kidding, both of them weary and umm, I don't know what. Lack of sleep is frying my circuitry. Must apply lipstick.

We didn't get much office moving done today, but we managed to clean up and organize beau's old room. More moving tomorrow. Moving is scary, but then so is change. Change is good for us though, yop. I won't be able to hear my pretty patio fountain from my old office or see the squirrels playing in the trees. It's too late now though, we've torn down the shelves and spackled the walls. Gotta just move ahead.

Should I wear mascara? It's not like the dick play is going to make me cry. I hate the way it feels on my eyes though, no matter which brand. This one is Chanel sculpting mascara for fine lashes.

We invited Beau to go with us but he decided not to, that leaves us with an extra ticket, good, I won't have to sit next to someone I don't know. I'm weird that way. You know if my parents had asked me to go to a play about a couple of Aussie guys making pretzels of their cocks, I would have gone in a hot second. It's funny how conservative parents wind up with radical kids and vice versa. Beau will probably become a monk. Hey, just so long as he doesn't join the Taliban.

I'll tell you all about it when we get home, or maybe not, I have designs on Scott. If all of the swagger doesn't intimidate my monkey I am going to make him my little love slave.