Memories of the porn trade…Part 1

The porn business has changed so incredibly much since I first got into it. It’s like a totally different animal.

I started in this field in 1974 by contacting a company that published porn novels, and after showing them a ten-page sample, I got an assignment. Two weeks later I gave them a completed novel, written while sitting on the same strong desk chair that I am sitting on as I write this blog. I concocted my story to some illustrations they’d given me. I got a check for $150, and now I was a published author.

In 1974, $150 could pay for my month’s rent, with $50 left over!

I’ve since lost my only copy of that first book, entitled The Screaming Virgins–it was S&M week at the smut factory (there was a different theme to follow each week) and I wrote about temporary office workers tricked into being sex slaves at a “castle” in the Catskill Mountains of New York state. But I have a copy of my second novel, 1975’s The Punk Stud and His Women. My original title was Go-Go Girl Orgy Week, which I think was equally good. They gave me the pseudonym “George Sussman” instead of the one I chose, “Norbert Klinger.” Anyway, I recently discovered that this book can be purchased for $40 at a site called vintagesleaze.com.

The "punk stud" spends a week hanging out in the strip clubs that used to line West 45th Street in Times Square.

The nice thing about this cover is that it accurately conveys the feeling of the young guy, awed with desire at the possibilities inherent in the uninhibited raunchiness that was New York in the 1970s.

In its listing, the Vintage Sleaze site runs the first line of the book under the cover: “Lester Bloom drove slowly down the dark street.” That name, Lester Bloom, became one that I used frequently–as a character in stories, as a pseudonym, and even as a character in an X-rated movie I wrote for Vivid Entertainment entitled True Blue. In fact, the actor Tyce Bune did quite a good job in the role of Lester, an overly introspective, romantic porn screenwriter who has a crush on a hardcore starlet.

“Lester Bloom drove slowly down the dark street.” Funny how a line I wrote thirty-seven years ago could so perfectly encapsulate a lot of the mood of what I would write in the future–encapsulate the melancholy that underlies a lot of my writing, in spite of the fact that my stories are also horny and sometimes quite funny, too. I definitely believe humor and erotica can go together, if used in the right proportions.

Well, this was a pleasant little excursion into the past. I can see myself in my cheap hotel room on the Upper West Side, cranking away at my novels on my Olivetti portable, making three copies–the original, and two carbons. Remember carbon paper in those days before copiers were cheap to use? Yes, I’m sitting on the same chair, a nice solid simple chair, but now in front of a Macbook Pro.

I’ll continue with these porn memories again soon…

Do you have fond recollections of porn in the old days, too, as a fan or creator?

 

New York Post lauds ugly “Miracle Dress”…yikes!

The top of the dress calls to mind a wife-beater t-shirt. The sides of the dress make the wearer look like a walking cartoon, and not a well-drawn cartoon. The stitching under the bust looks cheap and exaggerated. But according to the New York Post here, it’s the dress that every high profile babe wants to wear…including Kate Winslet, Penelope Cruz, Nicole Scherzinger, Liv Tyler, and La La Anthony.

I hate to mention it, but it also looks like Kate has a second, auxiliary vagina in her right armpit.

This is too scary...

On the other hand, below is what ye ole Uncle Irv calls a miracle dress, courtesy of the late great cartoonist Bill Ward.

...and she sports her knockers like a bomb!

And, like most miracles, this Bill Ward creation is shrouded in myth…did it ever really happen? Could such a dress ever really be?? I found it here at “DullToolDimBulb’s soup,” a great site about vintage erotica and other curiosities from the past. Just click the link and scroll down to see more of Ward, one of the funniest pinup cartoonists ever.

 

A taut girdle on a hot girl at O’Hare Airport in 1969…

I haven’t seen the show yet–it’s on tonight–but my hunch two weeks ago in this blog that Pan Am on ABC would score a hit looks on target…and a good deal of the reason is what the characters wear…especially underneath those uniforms.

It might take place in the 60s, but you know it’s really about women’s “empowerment.” Right, my fellow horndogs?

What do they wear? The women, that is. Girdles.

The erotica that women actually wore!

 

I think it was a step backward for women to give up wearing these garments!

The tight blue uniforms, the white gloves, and the girdles (referred to by star Christina Ricci so charmingly and understatedly as “underpinnings”) all seem to be catching the popular fancy. A little trailer on Yahoo today emphasizes the sexy well-encased derrieres of the stewardesses. (How lovely that we can use the sexy word “stewardess” again!! Hooray!!)

Who is she about to chew out?

Meanwhile, one of my fondest erotic memories ties three things together: a hot girl, a taut girdle, and O’Hare Airport in Chicago.

I grew up in the Windy City, in West Rogers Park (immortalized in the great short stories of Joseph Epstein in books such as The Goldin Boys and Fabulous Small Jews), and fun things to do on Saturday night dates were to park near the lakefront and “neck,” or park at the airport and “make out.”

A fond recollection from the spring of my senior year in high school (1969) was going to O’Hare Airport and parking my car somewhere near one of the terminals. The girl I was out with was reputedly “fast” and that made the situation doubly more exciting. All we did was neck and make out, feeling each other over our clothes, but what I remember vividly was, as we French kissed, running my right hand over her bottom and feeling the tautness of her girdle underneath. I can almost still feel it. She was wearing “slacks” (as trousers used to be called) and I remember being surprised that she wore a girdle, too. But I didn’t complain. There was something very erotic, and grown-up, about it. I had no expectation of getting laid (it wasn’t so easy back then, at least in my circles) and figured the most I would get was a hot make-out session, which was fine.

I sincerely hope Pan Am brings back the popularity of girdles so that young fellows today will be able to experience this sensual thrill for themselves.

In any event, I hope Christina Ricci and the other gals on Pan Am will give us plenty of eyefuls of their sexy “underpinnings!”

Bicycling their way into our hearts and loins…

————

I found these girdle illustrations at various sites such as ebay, corsetiere.net, and esty.

 

Online museums of femdom erotica!

It sounds as if the critics like the new show Pan Am, starring Christina Ricci, which I wrote about a couple of weeks ago (just commenting on the photos, that is, and how the girls looked so sexy in their uniforms). I found an interesting interview with Christina here where she talks about the open misogyny of the 60s portrayed in the show, versus the hidden misogyny of today.

It made me think about the misandry (is that the right term for contempt for males?) that women have always had for men, but which doesn’t seem to be the subtext of too many serious dramas…if any. Because men are supposed to be the oppressors, it’s not perceived that there is much of a market catering to sympathy for penis-bearing individuals.

Now, this is a femdom illustration I found at an interesting site called Mistress Fantasy. It is one of a series of pictures made by an artist named Bakerman, who says in the copy accompanying the pictures that he likes to get pies in the face from beautiful women.

I wonder if it could be fun for me, too…

Maybe this is a relatively benevolent form of punishment in a future matriarchal society?

One reason I like this illustration, apart from the comments above, is that it seems to portray something that happens all the time in our society. Metaphorically speaking, men are always getting pies in the face from women in any manner of shameless ways. It happens frequently in relationships, marriages, advertising, television, books, movies, politics, et al. This picture portrays one artist’s fetish, but I feel it has a wider resonance.

Some women find femdom imagery silly, or even offensive, and I think that might be because they sense that it can represent a man’s triumph over women even though ostensibly he is submitting to her in the art. To turn defeat into a sensual experience is, as I understand it, the old Freudian explanation of perversion, and I think there is some validity to it even though Freud is looked down upon these days. If women often make you feel oppressed, well, turn the feeling into an erotic trigger and you can then have delight in your own sense of defeat and submission! (I am speaking only for myself, nobody else.)

However…

I think women want to feel that they are defeating men who don’t want to be defeated, and could easily defeat them instead (the women, that is) in the right circumstances. But when men are eager to turn defeat into pleasure…ah, what fun is that for the ladies? It’s like preaching to the converted! The dialogue might go something like this:

“Do as I say, worm!”

“Yes, ma’am!

“No, you idiot, you’re supposed to tell me to go fuck myself!”

“But ma’am, I really WANT to lick your boots!”

“Bah! Men!!!”

Now, there is another excellent website I frequently visit that has also kinky art of women ruling over men, and links to many other fascinating sites related to femdom explorations and other topics as well. It is called Femdom Artists and you can find it here. Recently they ran the following picture:

Bilbrew is one of the truly iconic artists of the genre.

When I first saw Bilbrew’s work, upon moving to New York in the early 70s, I was mesmerized. I understand now that after years of hearing feminist exhortations in college from 1969 to 1973 about “men oppressing women,” and seeing lots of destructive bitchy behavior from females throughout my life, I realized instinctively through drawings like this that there was a way to eroticize the pain of dealing with females. I truly am one of those men who can’t live with them, and can’t live without them. Yet I have lived without them–as a bachelor–for many years.

I consider art like this, from Bilbrew to Bakerman, to be vital documents, as well as artistic expressions. You can keep your Rauschenbergs, deKoonings, and Basquiats; I’ll take Bilbrew, Stanton, Willie, Bakerman, Montorgueil, Banjo…the list goes on, but you’ll have to visit these great sites, which I’m adding to my blogroll, to learn more. They are for adults only, obviously.

Finally, since this is the weekend, let me also put in a plug for my ebooks about dominant ladies having their way with susceptible men! The latest is SPELL OF DOMINANCE, a collection of 5 short stories.

You can read a sample for free at Amazon!

Go to my author’s page and you can find links to all the ebooks. You can meet gals Learning to be CRUEL…and a young lady who instructs a man that TOES ARE FOR SUCKING! These digital tomes are available in the Kindle format at Amazon US, UK, and Germany.

Enjoy and have a good weekend!

 

The Playboy Club: better late than never!

The show reminded me of the fast-moving crime B-movies of yore...

I enjoyed the show The Playboy Club last Monday night. It’s a fun melodrama with an interesting setting and an attractive cast. Sure, the character of Nick Dalton is a little reminiscent looks- and sound-wise of Mad Men’s Don Draper, but so what? Actor Eddie Cibrian is his own man. There was room enough for more than one sharp leading man in old style Hollywood flicks, so why not on modern day tv?

I grew up in Chicago in the 50s and 60s and the Playboy Club had a real mystique. My friends and I all wanted to grow up fast so we could check it out. Unfortunately by the time we were old enough, in the early 70s, it had already become a relic of another era and had lost its cache. I don’t remember when the Playboy Clubs closed but they weren’t on the list of spots to hit by the time Studio 54 was hot. But now at last I get to go there vicariously by watching this program. Better late than never. I wonder how close the recreation of the old club actually is.

Playboy, the magazine, inspired me a lot and it’s one reason I became a professional editor and writer for men’s mags. Yes, I was one of those guys who read the articles as well as looked at the pictures. The fiction was terrific, and I basically learned the technique of interviewing from reading the masterful Q&As in Playboy.

In its golden era, a truly magnificent periodical; and today, a veritable time machine you can browse through.

And gazing upon Sue Williams, the centerfold for the April 1965 issue, shown above, basically turned me into an assman, a predilection culminating professionally in my seventeen year editorship (1988-2005) of the publication Cheeks, which I subtitled: “The Magazine That Understands the Power of a Woman’s Bottom!”

A photograph of classic perfection...almost a vision of utopia!

For Cheeks, I was always searching for new models who combined, like Sue Williams did, a pretty face with an equally memorable derriere; and I found quite a few along the way to populate my passionately assembled pages! It was truly a labor of love and lust.

We mixed flirtatiousness with up-to-date explicitness in Cheeks!

You can find some vintage copies of Cheeks at oldmags.com. I’ve never bought from them myself, but that’s where I found these cover images. I have all these mags, but it’s just too much work sometimes to dig them out of boxes…

The language is hotter, but my awestruck admiration of the butt is clear!

 

The psychosexual slapstick of Francis Levy’s Seven Days in Rio!

Ah, Brazilian girls! There used to be a lot of Brazilian strippers in New York City. Haven’t noticed that many lately, although to be honest I don’t go out to the strip clubs as much as I used to. But the Brazilian gals were always sexy and full of fun. They seemed to enjoy peeling and flirting for its own sake, and not only to rake in those lapdance tips. Their sensuality was refreshing.

So I had fond memories of plush-bottomed Brazilian beauties squirming on my trousered crotch as I ordered Seven Days in Rio by Francis Levy from Amazon. It’s one of the funniest novels I have ever read. It’s only 148 pages but I took seven days to read it because I wanted to savor its hilarious lines. Published by a company called Two Dollar Radio, whose slogan is “Books too loud to ignore,” it’s also one of the strangest novels I’ve ever encountered.

I wish this cover had a prostitute on it...

 

It’s about a middle-aged guy named Kenny Cantor, a New York accountant who goes down to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil for a sex vacation. He wants to have sex with “Tiffanys”–that’s his pet name for prostitutes. He has all sorts of hangups about his past, his mother, and has been in therapy off and on for many years. He has this idea that almost all the women in Rio are whores. Literally. The pay-for-play kind of whores, actual pros. As he says in the second line of the novel: “I was told that most of the women were prostitutes who would gladly sleep with me for a hundred American dollars.” He says this so matter-of-factly that you can’t help but laugh at his naivete, because it’s obviously such a ridiculous and absurd statement. But then a few lines later he says to a strange woman on a street corner, “I am new to your country and I wanted to introduce myself while also initiating myself into your highly permissive sexual culture. I will put my cards on the table: I’d be glad to engage you to perform sexual acts on me for a fee.” She doesn’t take him up on the offer.

Kenny imagines ordering a call girl from the concierge at his hotel and requesting a “sexy girl” with “all the best features.” This reminds him of how his mother used to order fish over the phone from a grocer: “I want a nice big piece of salmon, not too fatty.” Kenny is intent on definitely not having sex with women who will give it away for free. When a Frenchwoman says to him, “Do you want to play with my twat?…I want your balls in my mouth,” he turns her down because she is not a hooker, but a writer! Kenny rationalizes, “I had come to Brazil for the prostitution, not to have free sex with a French intellectual.”

This horny CPA doesn’t think quite like other men do…or does he?? Maybe he’s just not afraid to say it. This is one of the things that makes the novel intriguing and funny in an unnerving way—Kenny Cantor will blurt out ideas many men think at one time or another, but never say or act on.

At the hotel where he is staying, there is a convention of psychoanalysts, and he meets a beautiful part-Asian headshrinker named Dr. China Dentata. Yes, you read that right—China Dentata sounds like “Vagina Dentata,” the scary fantasy that women have teeth in their pussies. Kenny eventually experiences both psychoanalysis and blowjobs with China. But he pours out his problems to her in unusual therapy sessions that last only one minute at a time, as she licks his balls and watches soccer on tv.

Some of the stuff about psychoanalysis gets a little hard to follow, diluting the humor a bit, but whenever the book comes back to Kenny looking for prostitutes, it is full of great lines and amazing observations. Kenny meets a girl with the most bountiful bosom ever. When he recovers from “the enchantment of her mammaries” (wonderful phrase), they meet for a date in his room. “She unbuttoned the blouse of her uniform to reveal perhaps the sexiest bra I had ever seen on a whore…it was a bra for a woman whose breasts have long since declared their independence from support of any kind, as India did in 1948.” Huh? Kenny makes some odd associations when he’s describing things. But when it turns out she’s not a hooker, but just a horny chick, he loses his boner. “My penis wilted like a rotted carrot…the thought that she wasn’t a prostitute and that I didn’t have to pay for sex was so repugnant to me that I lost all interest in her.”

In another section, Kenny meets an old prostitute who has him take off his trousers and fits him into a thong, and he walks around Rio in a seersucker jacket and no pants, just the thong. He keeps searching for a sex club called Cafe Gringo, but when he finds it he gets a surprise and ends up somewhere even wilder. But the upshot of it is, days go by and he still doesn’t have any actual intercourse with prostitutes!

The only thing I’m not crazy about is this book’s cover. I don’t think it suits the tone of the novel. In fact, the cover below of a forgotten pulp novel entitled Make Mine a Harlot is closer to the feverish dreamlike tone of Levy’s story, even though nobody in Seven Days in Rio wears a tuxedo or brandishes a gat. I can’t remember for sure where I originally found this cover, some time ago; but you can definitely find it now at a site called Vintage Vixens, here.

Like this vintage cover, Levy's novel projects a feeling of brilliant color.

Seven Days in Rio is about a fantasized Rio. Author Francis Levy has said online that he has never been there. According to an entry here on the publisher’s blog, some people in Brazil were upset by the book and demanded an apology. But as the author states in a preface, it is a Rio of the imagination that he is depicting, not the real city. Read this Q&A here to find out more about this provocative writer. He also has an interesting blog called The Screaming Pope here.

I found Seven Days in Rio to be psychosexual slapstick going on in his possibly insane character’s mind. It’s full of surreal emotional and mental pratfalls; it’s goofy, yet simultaneously serious. The dialogue in particular manages to break many of our global village’s current verbal taboos of political correctness–e.g., who uses the word “whore” anymore, aren’t they supposed to be called “sex workers”? You get my drift. So be prepared to laugh but maybe feel guilty about it sometimes too. Accountant Kenny Cantor, for all his oddness, is a character you’ve gotta meet. I just don’t know if I’d ever have him do my taxes.

 

Foot Lover in the Wax Museum!

People sometimes ask where a writer gets ideas…

Well, I just read a funny story online about badly executed wax figures of celebrities. You can find it here.

I even left a comment on about the ninetieth page (it got a lot of comments) about how I’d like to see wax figures of Regis Philbin and Kelly Ripa dressed up like gladiators…

Anyway, the story got me thinking. How about a story called Foot Lover in the Wax Museum?

I don’t think I’m going to write it, but it’s certainly a viable idea. Can you imagine some fetish lover crawling around on his hands and knees in a dark museum, worshipping the likes of Kim Kardashian, Eva Longoria, and Helen Mirren?

How about a story where the actual Kim watches a slave worship the wax Kim??

The kinky ideas are flowing now...

Ah, to be turned over her lap for a spanking, my head held down and forced to stare at her shiny red shoes!! An ecstasy of submission!!

I got these cool pix from a celebrity site here.

And how do you like Helen’s red shoes? I think that’s the real Helen, by the way, wearing the shoes. No, on second thought, maybe that’s the wax figure…in any case, apropos of what I wrote a couple of posts ago about red heels, with that footwear she fits right in here on ye ole Uncle Irv’s blog. Sexy lady…if you haven’t seen her in 1969’s Age of Consent as a twentysomething girl swimming nude in the ocean and posing nude for a painter played by James Mason, well…you don’t know the full Helen Mirren, who today may well be the most torrid sixtysomething on planet Earth!

That's James Mason, always perfect as the decadent aesthete!

I found the above shot at a site here.

Helen Mirren seems like a truly adventurous soul...

And I got the shot directly above here.

Anyway, this should make it obvious that my interests are not limited to feet or femdom!

 

Femdom erotica at its very best!

If you enjoy stories about clever dominant women manipulating willing submissive men into exceptionally erotic situations, check out my Kindle ebooks, available at Amazon US, Amazon UK, and Amazon Germany!

Learning to be CRUEL takes place in a New York City diner, as a beautiful Chinese-American girl has a middle-aged admirer show his subservience to her with the scraps of her food…

Cruelty is the most potent cosmetic of them all!!

Available at Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0058OJ464

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0058OJ464

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B0058OJ464

TOES ARE FOR SUCKING is about a fellow who hires a girl to help him with some dictation, but ends up worshipping her beautiful feet!

She initiated him into the full pleasures of her feet...

Available here at Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005ES6UD4

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005ES6UD4

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B005ES6UD4

And SPELL OF DOMINANCE is a collection of five short stories about ladies of all levels of femdom experience taking on eager slaves and leading them to boner-inducing bliss!!

To kneel before them is the most lovely of sensations!

Available at Amazon here:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005JFV0OG

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005JFV0OG

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B005JFV0OG

Just click on the links at Amazon US to check out free samples, right online, of these beautifully written, horny tales! No downloading necessary for the samples.

The ladies are waiting!!

 

The eternal allure of red high heels…

I find red heels on ladies very sexy. Check out this image I found here:

I bet everything above those knees is gorgeous, too!

I’m not obsessed with red heels, but I was thinking about them today when I was looking at some ads online and found a girl wearing a striking pair that had low vamps and showed off her toe cleavage. I began to recall when I became interested in shoes like this, back when I was first living in New York in the mid-70s…

I was standing in what used to be called a “singles bar” named Maxwell’s Plum on the Upper East Side, having a drink and trying to meet some girls. A tall brunette in her mid-twenties walked in wearing red patent heels with frilly white ankle socks, which I soon realized was a popular new retro-inspired combination. I had never seen anything like that, literally. It was a primal erotic experience. I was hooked on red heels. (And ankle socks, which I’ve written about elsewhere on this blog.)

Shortly afterward, I took a short story writing workshop at the New School, a local college. That was a primal experience too; I learned a lot (mostly about what was wrong with my fiction at the time, which was helpful), and made some supportive writer friends. After the class was over, a bunch of us students continued to meet for a couple of years at each other’s homes to share and critique our work. Well, actually, not at my home, because I lived in a tiny room in a semi-seedy residential hotel; but the other students, all of whom were married middle-aged women, had nice apartments and so we met there.

They teased me in an affectionate way because the heroines of many of my stories often seemed to be wearing red high heels! And it was true; after the primal vision in Maxwell’s Plum, I was hung up on those shoes for a time, which women wore a lot in the early 70s when platform heels came back into fashion. I had never seen shoes like that when I was growing up in Chicago in the 50s and 60s.

I still like red heels, and I’ve written a few stories in recent years where they occasionally pop up. And while surfing the Web I recently discovered the work of an artist named Jacqui Faye who has a specialty of making acrylic paintings where women wear a great variety of red heels. Very evocative, sensual works. You can find her paintings here; below is one example, entitled “Charmed…I’m Sure,” shown on her blog. Check out her pictures!

As for me, I can imagine whole stories around images of red heels…femdom tales, or literary stories too, not necessarily erotica. And noirish vignettes of femmes fatale too, of course…although the idea of a sweet- natured girl wearing such tantalizingly hypnotic shoes is what really gets me going! I’ll have to see what I come up with down the line…

The title story in my collection SPELL OF DOMINANCE, available on Kindle at Amazon, starts off with a wife taking her husband to a store to get her a pair of red high heels. She’s unsure about fetish games, but by going to purchase the shoes with her hubby, she finds a way “into” the fantasy roleplay of her becoming his powerful mistress. Not unlike how, when I am writing, I sometimes have to find my way “into” a story by thinking about an element that intrigues me…like red high heels! Or other fascinating things.

Artist Jacqui Faye really gets the mysterious appeal of red heels!

 

The sweet smile of Aoi Sola buoys my spirits…

I’ve been in a funk the last couple of days and have found it difficult to work. Some family members visited me in New York over the Labor Day weekend and that was quite a bit of fun, we saw a great Broadway show (How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying), had some terrific meals, and perhaps I’m now experiencing the post-holiday letdown.

Maybe if I look at a picture of my favorite Japanese porn star, Aoi Sola, I’ll cheer up. Let’s see what I can put up here from my files…

How’s this?

This was taken a few years ago, early in her adult video career.

Or perhaps I need the distraction of a more earthy shot…

Miss Aoi Sola--angelic and earthy in same shot! I find her beauty almost mind-numbing.

I’m also feeling dissatisfied with this blog. I don’t feel my writing is really clicking here. It’s taken me a couple of months to realize this. The problem is, I really don’t like talking about my work much; I just like doing it. It’s not brain surgery anyway, and there’s not all that much to say. The writerly parts of a freelance writer’s life can be pretty dull…you sit at a desk and write. What goes on in your head is interesting only if it comes to life on the page, digital or paper.

Mm, I wonder if my feeling this is just part of my dark mood…

So maybe I should change the title to something which will give me more leeway to discuss my work if I’m so inclined, or the other stuff that interests me as well, like movies, art, New York, and various notions that come my way.

No, I hate changing titles in midstream, so I’ll just stick with my original choice. As I say, EROTICA IS MY TRADE, but these are THE MUSINGS OF A WRITER OF SEXY FICTION! Maybe it’s accurate enough.

So I will just assume this mood will pass, and I will stay the course. Aye-aye, Captain Neil!

Of course, I use this blog partly to promote my erotica ebooks as well–I have three femdom titles in the Kindle store on Amazon, for you newcomers who haven’t read these jottings before: Learning to Be CRUEL, TOES ARE FOR SUCKING, and SPELL OF DOMINANCE. So my blog title is certainly appropriate for that.

Or maybe I should just change the title of this blog to MY SHRINE TO AOI SOLA? (Pronounced “Ow-ee So-la” and also sometimes spelled “Sora.”) If only I could make a living by sitting at my desk all day putting up pictures of her on a WordPress blog!

I envy the man who is the recipient of her sweet nothings! Alas, I was born thirty years too early...