End of Year Summary

End of Year Summary

A 10-minute stream-of-consciousness writing by Elizabeth Stephens

Orange year, a lot of love, love and sexuality, sexuality translated to love. Lovesex, loveart, lovesex. Powerful. Hot everything=sex, food, walking, sex, talking, performing. Lovesex, art sex, performancesex, sexuality. I could feel my sexuality at all moments. Powerful. Just being beside Annie is sexuality. Animal. Animals. In our den, in our bed, in our car, in our power. We performed, we made, we talked, we lived our lives as creative experiment. Experimenters, like scientists. We created situations, we invited our audiences to be creative and to be sexual for that matter. We threw many, many seeds into the waters, into the earth, into the air and probably into the fire. We threw up. Creativity. Breathing. Everything is breath. Breathing creatively, breathing sexually, Breathing sexuality. Hot juicy. The work, the sex. Hot Juicy just having breakfast. Our relationship is sexuality. Vienna, Chicago, Southern CA. All sexuality. Swimming at the gym. Sexuality. Every pore in my body is filled with creativity. Sexuality is creativity and visa versa. Second Chakra. Where emotions are held. Next to security, root, where the roots are unplugged. Creating new visions. New visions of the world, of the work. What is really new. Recycling. Recycling is environmentally friendly. The environment is filled with sexuality and creativity. The trees at Boulder Creek. Big sexual redwoods. Male and female all in one. Beautiful hermaphrodites all in one fell swoop. The weather, sexual. Emotions sexual. Performance creative, Sexuality is creative. Essential for moving up the charkas. Hooray for the charkas, cha, cha cha.

Security/Survival, Sexuality/Creativity. Everyday we do the first two-now time to add another. Power/Courage. These are everyday ingredients for moving through life. All ingredients are necessary. All ingredients can be fun or terrifying. All depends on ability to dive in. Sexuality can take so many forms. In this moment just listening to the sound of my baby’s fingers on her keyboard is sexy. Smell, sight, hearing and touch. Imagination, endless imagination. We played too. That is where Bob comes in. Bob who makes us take a walk and seriously play. Play is creative. Play is sexual. We should play more. Our work is play. Creativity in every move we make. Creativity even in our shits. Sexuality too. Creativity is hard work. We work so hard. Changing the way others see the world. Presenting love as art. What could be more creative? Love as Art. What could be move sexy. Good art is very sexy. Change is sexual. Changing the way I think about sexuality. Life as art, sexuality everywhere. Makes the world a much more colorful place. There is no place for war in the world of loveart. No room for pent up anger caused by not expressing sexuality. Nurture sexuality or it will eat you alive and lead to war. War is sexuality, homosexuality. The new year of power is on the way. Yellow-power/courage. Give me the courage to survive this next year with my sexuality intact.

A 10-minute stream-of-consciousness writing by Annie Sprinkle

Still very in love, what a miracle. Lots of creativity all the way around. Sex very beautiful, but not a lot of fucking brains out in the old way. Every moment with Beth is erotic, no matter what. Sex is new. Different. Post-menopausal. Tamoxifen fucks with my fucking. But am happy as a clam. We are lucky and delighted to live and work and play together. Sometimes low self esteem crept in. Crapped in.
Body changing. Belly bigger, hanging covering twat. The “apron” Antoinette calls it. My lust and longing and desire for Beth are thankfully still present after almost five years of being lovers. I think we have better sex than most people on the planet. But how to measure? It’s different, in any case, than courtship sex. I let go of what sex is supposed to look like. Am deeply satisfied. Creative juices flow freely.
Our new home in boulder creek took lots of juice. Beth makes great house sculpture. She provides, I nourish. We were monogamous. Adventurous monogamous. We ate too much and gained weight. We love to eat. Sensual delights. Starbucks fans. South Beach Diet fans. Bob was very much a part of orange year. Our third family member. A wise doggie.

Tamoxifen year. Made body stiff and many hot flashes. Hot asses, love passes. Warm, wet, bushy pussy. I want to spend my whole life with my face in her crotch. But we don’t have time. Other things to accomplish. Many nights of sleeping very closely. Sleeping sex. Zen. Wise people who thought up the chakras. Orange wedding was phenomenal, satisfying, very sex community.

Our lives are rich. Time is of the essence now. Life getting short. Days go fast. There’s so much more love to make. Sex to have. Life to live. Musicals to see.
Sexy candles, galleries, people. War rages. Death in Middle east, torture, killing, suffering all around the world. And we are safe in love. So it seems. But anything can happen. Sometimes I’m a little paranoid. Will she leave me? Am I not good enough?
Family, friends, pets, computers, life is a smorgasbord. Lets go to Boulder Creek. Let’s change the world again, one more time, at least. Let’s change. You change, I change, we all change change change.

Email consumes me. I’m a hedonist. I’m dying. I’m deep inside Annie Sprinkle. And deep inside Beth Stephens.

Posted in orange year.