And I Made Lemonade Out of it

I've decided that this blog needs revival, but in a new format. Welcome to my personal life. It's sexy, it's exciting, it's humorous, but most of all, it's mediocre.

If you've followed my blogging over the years you will remember the years of personal exploration and expressions of heartbreak that I etched in to various webspaces. These blogs are all long gone. It wasn't easy. Deleting years of honest and heartfelt words was like taking a sandblaster to my heart, but it's something I felt I had to do.

Rockalily was in it's fledgeling year and my profile was rising in the Ottawa scene. Someone I didn't know recognized me on the street and tried to talk to me for the first time and it scared me as much as the first time I had sex. It was new, exciting - and it kind of hurt. I immediately made every effort I could to delete my personal life from the internet. Nobody needed to know that I had been raped, that my father had died, that my favourite fruit was avocados, that I peed my pants once when I was 16 or what my religious views are. More importantly, I didn't want anyone to know.

I spent another year building up a profile of the public-figure versions of myself, only to realize that I was a dumbass and didn't give myself a proper pseudonym. Perhaps it was my subconscious masturbating my ego; maybe I was entering into a habit of slow self-destruction, like smoking. All I know now is that in the long run, there has been no point to it. Everyone who cares about any aspect of my public life is aware of all of them. All that I'm left with is a confusion over which persona I am at which times.

The first time a journalist bothered to properly research me before interviewing me, I was flattered. The most recent time, I was flattered, but I kind of felt like my privacy had been invaded. I want to blame twitter.

Norma Jean was a fan of free association. She found it to be therapeutic. Long after her death, Playboy Magazine published a transcript of a recording of when the lovely miss Marilyn let her mind wander and her thoughts be free. That's how I know that she enjoyed enemas in a sexual context. Kinky!

I've always found it extremely difficult to fall in love with something that had the capacity to love me back. I love avocados, I love Montreal, I love Desperate housewives. These things could never possibly hurt me.

I don't have the capacity to be in love with a human being. There are many people whom I love, but I have not been in love in years. Even in an intimate situation, I have difficulty amalgamating my personalities in to one. Which one am I? Am I all them? They are all pieces of me, only exaggerated and often with fake eyelashes. Some of them can love, some of them can't. You can love my stage presence, but it's merely a facade. Loving her might garner you affection from a part of me you don't like.

Sounds fucking crazy, right?

Which kind of brings me back to where I started. I deleted all of my blogs. I didn't even save them for myself. Right now I would like nothing more than to look back on an entry I titled "The last person I let break my heart" I know what it was about, but my memory alone can not mimic re-reading my own words. It's not the same.

I've just spent the first 3 weeks of the year in a miserable relationship that I didn't want to let go of. I tried desperately to work it out, but he gave up, rendering my efforts futile. I'm not heartbroken. I feel more like I've been fired from a job because the business was closing. I sure hope I still get a good reference.

I am both sorry that I couldn't offer the totality of my love to him, and relieved that I didn't.

I'm sorry to myself that everything I do is "terribly public". Perhaps I could love someone if I felt that I had any privacy left.

But, I'm coming to terms with my lack of privacy. I put so much of myself in to my public personalities that I don't feel like a fake, but I don't feel like I should hide my thoughts and feelings anymore. Chances are that most people don't care, anyway.

So here it is. My heart on my sleeve.

When I started deleting everything, I stopped writing poetry. I recently started again, but haven't shared anything.

Here is a poem for you. Yes, you.


Tiny fists
the glitter in my peripheral
the tickle of a feather
the last drop of toothpaste
a bus ticket
I can fit it all in my pocket
for you to look at later
in our fortress made of books.




p.s. please don't tell anyone about the time I peed my pants. It was terribly embarassing.

Goodbye!

I've decided that it's time for askrawknee.blogspot.com to come to an end. This may be temporary, but I can't make any promises at this point.

To my dedicated fans, I am truly sorry that my heart has not been in this blog for quite some time.

Between living in Montreal, being in a committed relationship and actively searching for more serious work as a writer, I feel I can't write about the Ottawa sex scene. I have not the time nor motivation.

If you are seeking advice, you can still email me via ask.raw.knee@blogspot.com and your questions will appear, with answers, in Veronica's Closet and/or my Examiner.com page - depending on the nature of your question.

I have a new blog with my roommate, Elli, all about vegan and vegetarian cooking and our veg lifestyle in Montreal: Two girls, a cat & no oven.

For updates from all my blogs and columns, become a fan of me on Facebook.

As for what's going on in Ottawa, Apartment613 is always here for you.

Thank you very much for your loyal readership. I hope you continue to follow my work. Don't be shy to drop me a line anytime!

Wishing you the best in the new decade,
Veronica Michelle

Zombie Sex (long lost q+a)

Dear Veronica,
I am a heterosexual 32 year old female who has been happily married to my 38 year old husband for over 3 years. We've always had a satisfying sex life together but lately I've been bothered by a certain unfulfilled fantasy I've had for a long time. You see, Verotika, ever since I became sexually active as a teenager, I've had this overwhelming urge to re-enact a zombie scene in bed with my lover- make up and all, ripping chunks of flesh from each others hot bodies and then making love to him as he lies limp, pretending to be dead. The only problem, Verotika, is that I'm worried my husband, being a devout christian, may not be as turned on by this fantasy as I am. How do I go about bringing this up to him?
Thank You,
-Anonymous

You know what's coming up? My favorite holiday, Hallowe'en!! Usually Hallowe'en is an excuse to dress super slutty in public with little to no repricussions . This year, why not use it as a clever way to indulge your fantasy? Suggest to your husband that you both dress as zombies. Use liquid latex as fake skin, shredded clothes, fake blood, the whole 9. Once you get home from whatever your Hallowe'en celebrations might be, instigate sex. Be dominant, get on top.
The liquid latex "skin" should be fun to peel off at this point. At a later date, tell him how amazing the zombie sex was. (assuming it was) Perhaps now, as he's already pretty much gone through with it, he'll be willing to do it again for you. Good luck, you kinky freak.

The Blowjob Manifesto: part 4

Gentlemen,

You're not being coy when you slowly and slyly put your penis close to a woman's face.

We know what you want and if we really wanted to do it we would go for it, no matter where your penis is.

Just sayin'. This tactic does work a lot of the time, I know - but would it work for women, too?

I think I'm going to see how nonchalantly I can put my vagina near someone's face the next time I want someone to go down on me.

I'll let you know how it works.

Electric Six's new NSFW video

Electric Six "Body Shot" (2009) - NSFW 18+ from Another Reybee Productions, Inc. on Vimeo.