Fetish photographer Charles Gatewood collection

When I began exploring the fetish/alternative scene, legendary photographer Charles Gatewood was one very first people I ran into. We struck up a friendship over the fact that he did a book with one of my favorite writers, Williams Burroughs, that lasted many years.

Due to this friendship, I actually ended up with a fairly large collection of Gatewood memorabilia, a collection that I am hoping to find a good home for. I have to move and am seeking to downsize the various things I have picked up over the years. With the recent passing of Charles, it struck me that there might be some fans that would like to start or add to their Gatewood collections.

I am posting photos of everything I have available, everything is personally signed by Gatewood. Please email me at rain@raindegrey.com and let me know what you are interested in. Make me an offer! Moving is hard enough as is, I would like these to go to a good home 🙂

 

Signed Charles Gatewood books Wall Street and Sidetripping with Williams Burroughs

Signed Charles Gatewood books Wall Street and Sidetripping with Williams Burroughs

4 signed original Charles Gatewood art works

4 signed original Charles Gatewood art works

Signed very rare Charles Gatewood cards

Signed very rare Charles Gatewood cards

Gatewoodcards2

Signed photso of Charles Gatewood with Annie Sprinkle and photos of Abbie Hoffman

Signed photso of Charles Gatewood with Annie Sprinkle and photos of Abbie Hoffman

Original artwork by Gatewood of Brion Gysin

Original artwork by Gatewood of Brion Gysin

5 copies of 1997 SF Weekly featuring Charles Gatewood blood period article

5 copies of 1997 SF Weekly featuring Charles Gatewood blood period article

2004 SF Weekly with article about Charles Gatewood's book Photography for Perverts

2004 SF Weekly with article about Charles Gatewood’s book Photography for Perverts

3 signed 1977 issues of The Flash including an issue on Marco Vassi

3 signed 1977 issues of The Flash including an issue on Marco Vassi

Gatewood signature on The Flash

Gatewood signature on The Flash

Not all men are assholes and not all women are bitches

One of the most common questions I get asked is really less of a question and more of an expression of frustrated bafflement. “What is WRONG with (insert opposite sex) and WHY are they all liars/hustlers/scammers/assholes/dishonest/bitches/stuckup etc etc??”

And while I understand just how frustrating being frustrated can be, this question isn’t really based on any sort of reality. Because math.

Yes, of course there are liars and scammers and assholes out there. In any gender. Of course. But when *every* single woman you run into is a lying scammer or *every* single man you run into is a dishonest asshole there is something more going on there.

It is not mathematically possible for every single woman on the planet to be a stuck up scammer bitch nor is it possible for every single man to be a lying asshole. And if that is all you ever happen to run into…well the one common denominator in all of your interactions with others is YOU. So what exactly is it that you are doing that is only attracting assholes into your life? Do you have an asshole magnet unwittingly duct taped to your forehead?

Of course this is hard for folks to hear. It is much more comforting to be a victim somehow constantly surrounded by dishonest scammers than to think that there might be something *you* are doing that is creating an environment that attracts nothing but lying assholes. That is a hard pill for anyone to swallow. So people keep on doing the exact same things while expecting different results and being miserable at the inevitable outcome.

Is there a magical solution I can give you to fix this situation? Of course not. I do not know what it is exactly that you are doing, what sort of energy you are putting out that is attracting such undesirable people around you. Only you can answer that one. And I truly honestly hope that you get to a point in your life where you figure out the answer to that question. I really do. But the next time you find yourself griping about how all men are assholes or all women are bitches, check yourself. Because math.

Love as always,
RDG

Boundcon 2016

Boundcon is an international fetish and bondage event that has been running for the past 12 years and is currently being held in Munich. For the last 3 years I have have the pleasure of attending as one of the guests of honor and getting to perform with all of my fellow bondage lovers. Most of us live pretty far apart and Boundcon is one of the few times that I get to meet in person all of the people whose work I have enjoyed over the years.

This Boundcon was the best one yet, as Insex and Boundcon finally managed to meet up and work together after many years of negotiating and trying to make schedules work. The meeting of these kinky minds made for some serious bondage magic happening and I just wanted to share some photos of the event. I also got to hand out some new stickers and cards I had made up that I am quite pleased with. Hope to see you all there next year!

xox

RDG

 

Dee Williams tied to London River as Matt Williams and I love life

Dee Williams tied to London River as Matt Williams and I love life

 

boundcon 2016 cat

The kitty approves on her Boundcon shirt

boundcon pt 15

Dee Williams and I share a moment (C) PhareaNutello

My snazzy new stickers and business cards made by TCR

My snazzy new stickers and business cards made by TCR

boundcon pt 9

Matt Williams and OT tie Dee Williams and I

boundcon 2016

Dee Williams and I bound for trouble as Matt Williams and OT from Insex supervise

Dee Williams and I in a stappado

Dee Williams and I in a stappado

Dee Williams tied at Boundcon

Dee Williams tied at Boundcon

The truth about sex

When we first get here, when we first arrive on this planet, we have no guilt or body shame. All of that comes later. Everything about us is acceptable and adorable and there is no shame in our naked bodies. We have to be trained into body shame, into the idea of “naughty zones” and “special” places, the “no touch” zone that must be kept covered and shielded from public gaze. We have to be housebroken and toilet trained, instilled with such deep fear and anxiety about bodily functions that the need to pee can wake us up out of a sound sleep. We have to be loaded up with all of the fear and anxiety and shame that civilization say that we need to function as “polite” society.

And yes, if we didn’t housebreak and shame children they would be running around rubbing their crotches and pooping in the hallway. Obviously there is a need to not have that happen. If only because random hallway pooping is hard on the carpet and reckless crotch rubbing leaves fluids everywhere. But the guilt and fear and shame around bodily functions lingers for the rest of that child’s life.

We are trained to be ashamed of our naked bodies, to feel self conscious of all the adult flaws that come out of that perfect child’s body. It becomes taboo to touch and be touched, the ease and comfort of a snuggling child turns into the personal space bubble of adulthood. But deep inside we still crave the freedom of youth before we were molded into shame. The ability to touch and be touched by others with no baggage is something we never stop wanting.

When we grow up, this desire for touch and intimacy can be met by sex, as sex is one of the most intimate things you can share with another human being, but all too often our baggage and shame and fear gets in the way of that. Sex is like a bodily function that needs to be kept away from polite society, something done behind closed doors and not talked about. The NEED for sex, like the need to relieve oneself, is a lower animal urge that we should do but never discuss.

Because sex is scary and terrifying and completely undignified. Have you *seen* yourself? You look bloody ridiculous. Red faced and sweaty and straining with a look on your face like you are sucking on a lemon. There is no dignity to be had in sex. And that is kind of the point. There is nothing erotic that isn’t, with the wrong person, completely revolting. But with the right person, at the right time, completely revealing your naked body with all of its flaws and imperfections and various fluids and smells leaking all over the place and mashing that body firmly against another human’s skin only feels like utter acceptance.

Sex is incredible because of the closeness it allows and the freedom it offers. Day to day life requires us to constantly be suppressing our urges and desires, to always be wearing a mask of civilization and self restraint, to stifle our lusts and darker urges. The bliss of sex is to be allowed to drop that mask and reveal our true natures to our partners, undignified animal urges and all, without fear of judgement.

The bond of togetherness grows deeper the more honest and truthful we can be with our partners…but it can also be terrifying to be that vulnerable to another human being. We struggle against the desire for closeness and acceptance and the fear of rejection and dismissal. To ask for sex is to ask another person to be naked and exposed to you, and to be rejected on such a request stings you to your very core.

It isn’t easy. I am not saying it is. The quest for acceptance and an end to loneliness is one of the hardest tasks you will ever undertake. But when you find that other person, that person that sets you at ease and accepts you and your flawed mind and body, it is fucking magic. That person that you can relax around and drop the socially approved mask? That person is a treasure. Hold onto them tight. Someone like that doesn’t come along every day.

Why Mother’s Day can suck a bag of dicks

Ah, Mother’s Day. That special day that comes along once a year where we pay tribute to the blessed caring angel that ushered us into this world. A time for us to reflect upon and be grateful for the gentle guidance that our mothers provide. Truly, this is one of the sweetest days of the year…

That, or one of many holidays made up to fill in the gaps between the other holidays so that we can fork out some cash for some sentimental trinkets our mothers don’t really need in the first place in order to prove our love.

Either/or, really.

And hey, if you grew up in a perfect Norman Rockwell setting where your mother loved and comforted you and helped mold you into the awesome human being you are today, then kudos. It must be nice. You go with your badass self.

This blog isn’t for those people. This blog is for all those people out there that DIDN’T grow up like that. Cuz there is a lot of us out there. And for many of us, this day is triggering as fuck. Normally we can not focus on the shitty mothering we endured. Normally we can go on with our days and be fine. Not a biggie.

But once a year this concept of perfect mothering gets flung in our faces and becomes almost impossible to avoid. Most people know that Thanksgiving and Christmas are rough holidays, but nobody likes to talk about how hard Mother’s Day can be.

Well, it IS rough for a lot of us out there. But you know what? There are a lot of us. You are not alone. If you had the bad luck of the draw to be dealt the shitty parent card at birth, it WASN’T your fault. You were just a kid. Trying to survive and work with the cards you were given. You can let your past define you, or you can use it as motivation to try and be a better person. Me? I am going to use it as motivation. I am going to make it my fuel.

If you were not blessed with the best of mothers, double down and be twice as good to your own children. Break the cycle, don’t pass it down. And if you see someone out there kicking ass at Mothering, let them know you notice. Acknowledge all of their hard work and give them credit where credit is due. But not just one day out of the year. Because parenting is a full time job. 24/7/365. It is one of the hardest things you will ever have to do. And done properly, one of the most rewarding as well.

mothersday

Be a lioness

Hi there. You might have heard of me. You might not have. That part doesn’t really apply to my point here.

But if you HAVE heard of me, you probably have heard of me as some sort of Professional Naked Person, one of those girls on the internet with her tits and ass splayed out all over the place. You have probably heard of me as a bondage and fetish model. Maybe even one of those fetish models that likes to do the more “hardcore” stuff. If you have heard of me.

And there is a funny thing that happens when you become one of those people that plasters their naked body all over the internet…it surprises the shit out of people when you have opinions. It is as if folks think you sign a contract when you become a Professional Naked Person that says “I will keep my mouth shut and my holes open. With an exception clause for open mouths when it comes to blow jobs.”

Here is the thing: I never signed any such contract.

So I kept on being me. And the me that I am happens to be a lot more than a bag of holes. I had opinions. I pondered shit. I talked about things that were on my mind. I gave advice. I tried to help people, educate, inspire, motivate. I grant that it might not be typical behavior for most models. But I never felt defined as a person because I have done some modeling.

Being a bag of holes with lots of opinions didn’t sit well with everyone out there. Many people reached out to inform me of this fact. Especially since one of the topics I happen to talk about and cover a lot is bullying, harassment and sexism. Porn stars griping about misogyny tends to be a boner killer. Nobody wants to fap to that.

But like I said, I have never defined who I am as a person because I have done some modeling. I wasn’t going to be quiet because it might kill a stranger’s boner.

And then something amazing started happening. People started reaching out to me. People I did not know. People started telling me that my willingness to speak up inspired them to do the same. That talking about and discussing the “uncomfortable” things gave them the courage to do the same in their own lives. Women would tell me that because of my writing they stood up for themselves for the first time when they got hassled. That they realized that was ok to advocate for your rights. That speaking up for yourself doesn’t make you “fussy” but rather makes you strong.

These stories take my breath away. They humble me. They awe me. If I have helped just one person on this planet then my time while I was here was worthwhile. And you know what? I think I have succeeded in doing just that. And it feels amazing. It makes my heart melt.

Not bad for an opinionated bag of holes, huh?

Lots of love,
RDGRawr!

Hey Beautiful

Hey beautiful

Hi

Hello

Da ass doe

Heyyyyyyyy

😉

Looking fine!!

Love those lips!

Want to chat? Ask me anything? I am an open book!

And of course my personal favorite which just cuts to the chase and is just a few ???? thrown in at your inbox. After all what woman can resist the siren call of some random punctuation tossed at her email?

Sigh.

What all of these have in common is an absolute zero amount of effort. Ok, sure, it took around 3 seconds to find a profile, locate the send message button and type “heyyyyyyy” before pushing “send.”

But if that is the whole of the effort that one is willing to attempt to expend in starting up a dialog, that dialog is going to die a quick death. And then you are left sitting on the other end wondering what the fuck you did that was so wrong, why nobody ever responds, why are people so unfriendly and stuck up? And from there it is easy to tip into a shame and resentment spiral. You start actively disliking people when they do not respond to you & your emails. You start dishing out the follow up “fat and ugly” emails towards all those stuck up bitches.

What, exactly, does that solve?

Sure, you get that quick “got ya” buzz going on for a few minutes after telling some random person that didn’t respond to the email you sent out what a foul hippo they happen to be…but that buzz fades. And you are still there sitting bitter and alone with nobody to chat with. And all the while, the anger and hostility you have pumped out spreads like a low grade toxic wave across the internet.

You put even less effort into your future interactions, you fly off the handle even quicker when these interactions do not go the way you wanted, and that toxic wave spreads.

The common denominator in every single one of your actions is YOU. If you do not like the reactions you are getting to your actions, might I humbly suggest switching up your actions a bit?

Just a thought.

RDG

 

Heyyyyy-e1312913251675

Don’t give them your power

Life often seems like a never ending series of insults, slights and people doing you wrong. Of course, there are moments of bliss. It isn’t all grief and discontentment. But it is human nature for us to focus on the insults and forget all of the compliments. The 99 nice things people say to you are quickly lost and forgotten, but the 1 single insult is still remembered and burns like acid for years.

I am certainly guilty of it myself. All the nice things that people have said to me over the years? They ARE nice, and I do appreciate them, don’t get me wrong. But what one really remembers, what irks like an infected splinter, is the one bad thing someone said to me a year ago. You keep going back over the incident, rehashing it in your mind, what you could have said, how you could have showed them, put them in their place, you wish a plague on their firstborn and a raging case of athlete’s feet.

But one too many years marinating in a resentment stew was starting to make me bitter. And I didn’t like the way I tasted bitter. I was letting people camp out rent free in my head. I was going back to them doing me wrong, over and over, fixating and obsessing on their rudeness, meanness and general faults as a human being. I was giving them my power. They were winning by how much of my energy they were getting. So I kicked them to the curb. Those mooching freeloaders were not paying rent and did not deserve any of my head space.

I am not saying turn the other cheek and be a passive pushover, far from it. I have strong and healthy boundaries and I feel zero guilt about enforcing them. There is no need to accept trolling and mean spirited energy in your life. But when I see myself start to spiral into distress, fretting over insults and people doing me wrong, I check myself. I reclaim my power. Endlessly focusing on all the ways that people have done me wrong was draining me.

Hey, if arguing is your thing and you get off on it, who am I to suggest you stop? If endlessly prowling the internet looking for people to debate and insult and get those verbal digs in makes you feel all tingly inside, have at it. Just don’t do it at me or I will block your ass so fast your head will spin. I am not one of those people that pop powerful internet boners at taking someone apart and victoriously belittling them. The people that want to play that way can go play over there ——> away from me.

And if one day you realize that your resentment and anger is poisoning you and making your flavor bitter, I encourage you to do what I do and put that shit down. It isn’t healthy. I am not saying it is easy. That resentment and frustration has a sneaky way of creeping back into my hand…I look down and see it clenched in a white knuckled grip. And so I set it down again. I let it go. I take a deep breath. And then I like the way I feel these days. I can feel the bitterness drain out. I reclaim my power. I kick the free loading trolls out of my head. They are not welcome here.

Try it for yourself. You might like it, you never know until you try 😀

Food for thought and lots of love,
RDG

They can’t save you

It is the stuff of Hollywood movies and endless books and articles. We grow up on the concept. It is fed to us from birth. The concept that your soul mate, your “better half”, is somehow going to come along someday and save you from yourself. That miracle person that is going to make your life so much better that the two of you are bleeding bliss and leaking rainbows of joy out of every orifice, locked in happiness.

What a horrible burden to lay on someone. What a recipe for disaster and disappointment. What could possibly go wrong with such a concept…other than everything?

Nobody can save you from yourself. And expecting them to do so will only end up in misery every single time.

Of course life is easier for most of us with a partner. A team mate. Someone to hang out with, talk to, fuck, cuddle, someone to support you through the good times and bad. Financially, mentally, emotionally and sexually, most of us find that life easier with a partner. Of course.

But.

When you are walking around like a raw open wound, unable to deal with the endless grief that is simply functioning on this planet, and you are expecting your partner to be the hero to rescue you from yourself? Not only will your partner always let you down and not fix your wound, 100% of the time, but you can end up resenting them for failing to rescue you. And that resentment is a toxic killer that destroys relationships every single time.

So you move on to the next partner!! THIS is going to be the one! THIS is the one that will fix everything! But they don’t. They never do. They can not. And so the cycle continues. Over and over. You are never rescued. The other half always disappoints and you are always left wanting. The Hollywood myth of romance is just that, a myth.

Drop the myth. Do not expect that miracle person to come along and save you from yourself. Save your own damn self. And once you are not that raw open wound in desperate need of a band-aide, once you are not looking to be rescued, you will find that relationships get a hell of a lot easier and more satisfying. True story.

Rejection sucks

The common myth is that guys are the ones that do all of the asking and women are the ones that lie back in the pussy position of privilege, accepting or denying as they see fit.

That is a damn myth.

You think women never get rejected for sex? Not hardly. I have been rejected for sex enough times that I can’t even keep track of it at this point. You ask a guy and he passes on the offer. I am not universally appealing just because I have a vagina to sit on. Or if a guy DOES agree to fuck you, once he gets his dick wet he never talks to you again. It is one and done as if you two had never seen each other naked and sweaty.

Women get rejected all the damn time. It is not an exclusive situation to men. And yes, rejection sucks. I get it. I get it from personal experience. But worse than rejection is not being clear and honest about your intentions to others and approaching them with ulterior motives under the guise of friendliness. “Friendliness” with an ulterior motive isn’t friendly. It is manipulation.

Sex with others is not a right, it is a privilege. And when you approach other people operating under the assumption that if you do enough things at them, are “nice” enough, “put enough time in”, that the payoff with be sex and or a relationship, you are just setting yourself up for disappointment and resentment.

When you do not get the payoff of sex or a relationship as a “reward” for all of your hard efforts, you start to resent the person you were being “nice” at. They did not follow along with the script that you wrote for them in your head.

Only problem is that other people have free will and do not follow along with scripts that you write for them. Operating under the assumption that people will somehow owe you something if you do the right things at them is a a breeding ground for disappointment. And disappointment is a bitter flavor that turns people off.

Be clear and direct with your desires and then accept whatever the outcome is, no matter what it might be. Sailing under false flags or expecting that other people’s sexy time attention is your inherent right and privilege isn’t going to take you terribly far…

 

dating-rejection-300x232