#Sake mexicano

[onedigital]

NAMI Nigori, la nueva variante del sake mexicano

La familia NAMI crece con el lanzamiento de Nami Nigori, el primer sake Nigori producido en México.  Con un sabor dulce y frutal, y un bajo nivel de alcohol, el nuevo NAMI Nigori es la oportunidad perfecta para adentrarse en el mundo del sake.  Continue reading NAMI Nigori, la nueva variante del sake mexicano

[hijolehijola]

...no terminan aquí nuestras diferencias. [Los estadounidenses] son crédulos, nosotros creyentes; aman los cuentos de hadas y las historias policíacas, nosotros los mitos y las leyendas. Los mexicanos mienten por fantasía, por desesperación o para superar su vida sórdida; ellos no mienten, pero sustituyen la verdad verdadera, que es siempre desagradable, por una verdad social. Nos emborrachamos para confesarnos; ellos para olvidarse. Son optimistas; nosotros nihilistas —sólo que nuestro nihilismo no es intelectual, sino una reacción instintiva: por lo tanto es irrefutable—. Los mexicanos son desconfiados; ellos abiertos. Nosotros somos tristes y sarcásticos; ellos alegres y humorísticos. Los norteamericanos quieren comprender; nosotros contemplar. Son activos; nosotros quietistas: disfrutamos de nuestras llagas como ellos de sus inventos. Creen en la higiene, en la salud, en el trabajo, en la felicidad, pero tal vez no conocen la verdadera alegría, que es una embriaguez y un torbellino. En el alarido de la noche de fiesta nuestra voz estalla en luces y vida y muerte se confunden; su vitalidad se petrifica en una sonrisa: niega la vejez y la muerte, pero inmoviliza la vida.

¿Y cuál es la raíz de tan contrarias actitudes? Me parece que para los norteamericanos el mundo es algo que se puede perfeccionar; para nosotros, algo que se puede redimir. Ellos son modernos. Nosotros, como sus antepasados puritanos, creemos que el pecado y la muerte constituyen el fondo último de la naturaleza humana. Sólo que el puritano identifica la pureza con la salud. De ahí el ascetismo que purifica, y sus consecuencias: el culto al trabajo por el trabajo, la vida sobria —a pan y agua—, la inexistencia del cuerpo en tanto que posibilidad de perderse —o encontrarse— en otro cuerpo. Todo contacto contamina. Razas, ideas, costumbres, cuerpos extraños llevan en sí gérmenes de perdición e impureza. La higiene social completa la del alma y la del cuerpo. En cambio los mexicanos, antiguos ó modernos, creen en la comunión y en la fiesta; no hay salud sin contacto. Tlazoltéotl, la diosa azteca de la inmundicia y la fecundidad, de los humores terrestres y humanos, era también la diosa de los baños de vapor, del amor sexual y de la confesión. Y no hemos cambiado tanto: el catolicismo también es comunión.

...our differences do not end there. [Americans] are credulous, we are believers; they love fairy tales and mysteries, we love myths and legends, Mexicans tell lies for fantasy, out of desperation or to overcome their sordid lives; they do not lie, but substitute actual truth, which is always unpleasant, with a social truth. We get drunk in order to confess; they in order to forget. They are optimistic, and we nihilistic - only that our nihilism is not intellectual, but rather an instinctive reaction: it is therefore irrefutable -. Mexicans are distrustful, they are open. We are sad and sarcastic; they are joyful and humorous. The North Americans want to understand, we want to contemplate. They are active, we are Quietists: we get as much enjoyment from our sores as they do from their inventions. They believe in hygiene, in health, in work, in happiness, and yet they do not know true happiness, which is a drunkenness and a whirlwind. In the shriek of a festive night our voice bursts into lights and life and death are jumbled and befuddled, their vitality petrifies in a smile: it defies old-age and death, but immobilizes life. And what is the source of such opposing attitudes? It seems to me that for North Americans the world is something that can be perfected; for us, something that can be redeemed. They are modern. We, with our puritan ancestors, believe that sin and death constitute the ultimate basis of human nature. Only that the puritan identifies purity with health. Hence the asceticism that purifies, and its consecuences, the cult of work for work's sake, the sober life - of bread and water - , the non-existence of the body as a possibility of losing oneself - or finding oneself - in another body. All contact is contaminating. Races, ideas, customs, foreign bodies carry within themselves the germs of perdition and impurity. Complete social hygiene of the soul and the body. In contrast, Mexicans, ancient and modern, believe in communion and in celebration; there is no health without contact. Tlazoltéotl, the Aztec goddess of filth and fertility, of earthly and human moods, was also the goddess of steam baths, of sexual love and of confession. And we have changed little: Catholicism is also communion.

Octavio Paz, El Laberinto de la Soledad, 1950

[trastornadosrevista]

Duki en el Buenos Aires Trap 2019: ya llegó la jefatura

Duki fue el encargado de cerrar la segunda edición del Buenos Aires Trap y lo hizo de la mano de un show ambivalente en el que se mostró como el líder de la nueva etapa del trap en la Argentina. Todavía acomodándose a este nuevo rol, su presentación no fue arrolladora, pero lo encontró explorando nuevos sonidos y texturas. Crónica de una noche en la que el futuro finalmente llegó. 

El cierre de la segunda edición del Buenos Aires Trap a cargo de Duki fue otro de los momentos del festival que dejó mucho para reflexionar. Sin haber entregado su mejor actuación, el trapero número uno del país marcó la cancha con mucha contundencia: la etapa de consolidación en la escena local y regional ha quedado lejos, enfrentando Mauro Ezequiel Lombardo un desafío del que muy posiblemente salga triunfal. Si la salida de su primer disco de estudio –el versátil y ecléctico ‘Súper Sangre Joven’– ya había dado todas las pistas necesarias, su performance sobre el escenario del Hipódromo de Palermo abrió la puerta hacia un nuevo universo que lo encontrará en un plano mucho más elevado que lo habitual.

Más allá del insólito retraso de más de una hora y media, la mayoría del público mantuvo sus posiciones en el corazón de Palermo para poder ver a su gran ídolo. Encandilando por igual a niños, adolescentes y adultos, Duki ingresó con mucha parsimonia para intentar combatir el frío viento con una versión reducida de “Rockstar” que incluyó un paso en falso al comienzo y menos potencia que lo que suele habituar un músico que ha hizo su nombre en base a la locura, la velocidad y la intensidad. Es por esto que no hay que pasar por alto la cuidada escenografía (con un auto vandalizado como trasfondo, al mejor estilo A$ap Rocky) y una postura mucho más sobria que contrastó con la euforia y el desquicio de casi todos sus invitados.

Mostrando una cara muy madura, sin usar demasiado el auto-tune ni el playback, la versión bien latina de “Te Traje Flores” aceleró el trámite, aunque sin conseguir que el público se compenetrase por completo con la propuesta. Acercándose más a un show clásico de rap antes que a uno de trap, Duki manejó a placer el beat y no se apuró demasiado por conformar a sus fanáticos: “Sigo Fresh” fue un descenso a la oscuridad más profunda, mientras que “Piensa En Mí” sorprendió por su esencia electro-pop y consiguió el primer estallido de la noche en el estribillo.

La balada trap 3.0 se hizo cuerpo durante “Si Te Sentís Sola”, hit que fue coreado por todos y que tuvo su contraste en la más caribeña –con ribetes de vangelis, algo también celebrable– “Señorita”, momento en el que se hizo evidente que ‘Súper Sangre Joven’ debe ser puesto a prueba en vivo durante un buen rato antes de poder internalizarse en sus seguidores. Más allá de esto, la tensa calma le permitió al hitboy lucirse en modo crooner, desnudando por completo su voz y exigiendo al escucha algo más que puro descontrol.

El fino acompañamiento de Alemán impulsó la cruza entre el hip hop clásico y gangsta latino de “Me Gusta Lo Simple”, siendo notable la diferencia entre el fraseo veloz y ácido del mexicano y el más relajado del argentino. Esto intentó ser compensado desde el quiebre vocal durante “Perdón”, pero todo pareció encajar en su lugar recién durante el intenso tramo en el que el dembow bien picante de “La Jefatura” (junto a un frenético Lucho SSJ) y de “It��s A Vibe” (con C Tangana y Khea como invitados); luego de que el madrileño iniciase “5 Stars” a capella, la entrada a toda velocidad de Neo Pistea y Polima Westcoast fue más que suficiente para cerrar calentar los pies de todos los presentes.

Tras disculparse por el retraso general, Duki volvió a buscar la conexión regional con el reggaetón de “Sin Culpa”, para de inmediato invitar primero a We$t Dubai y C.R.O para pasar, respectivamente, sin escalas al trap lisérgico de “Sake” y de “Vampiros”. Gran parte de la gente se activó de forma definitiva, pero lo que se pudo notar fue el intento de agregarle mucho más a la fórmula tradicional de base, arenga y salto; una misión que Lombardo se ha tomado con mucha seriedad y que también seguramente tenga que ver con su pública decepción con el estado actual de una escena que se ha comercializado demasiado.  

Sangrante como nunca, “Hijo De La Noche” fue un showcase de dos voces muy claras y potentes que no usaron el auto-tune y plantearon el debate acerca de cuan necesario es a esta altura de las cosas. Sensual y misteriosa, bastante cercana al soul y al R&B, “Shorty” encontró a Nicki Nicole liderando la carga, aprovechando un beat muy texturado e intentando bajar las revoluciones en el momento justo. Sin perder tiempo, Duki volvió a lucirse haciendo contrastar el fuego de “Hello Cotto” y el dolor de “She Don’t Give A Fo”, pero el gran pogo de la jornada se produjo a lo largo y ancho de su éxito más reciente: combinando la versión instrumental y la de estudio, el frontman maravilló en “Goteo”, desatándose sin restricción alguna y haciendo saltar a tres generaciones diferentes al ritmo de “me puse las Gucci con un short de Nike, buzo y cadenas, estoy que goteo” ¿Poco? En absoluto, más bien todo lo contrario.

Golpeando el patrullero junto a Khea, ese delirio industrial llamado “Hitboy” abrió las puertas del infierno, quedando apenas tiempo para un remix de “Tumbando El Club” en el que Duki bailó y miró desde las alturas como Neo Pistea, Lucho SSJ, Khea y C.R.O repartían al público píldoras de locura. Sin dudas un resumen acertado de la primera etapa del trap local y la señal del advenimiento de una evolución que es inevitable: sin importar cuando comience, es claro que la nueva era se moverá al ritmo de un nombre tan grande que hasta puede darse el lujo de marcar el camino utilizando como plataforma de despegue una noche apenas regular sobre las tablas.  

Por Rodrigo López Vázquez

[ocioenlinea]

Una cocina llena de tradición

A pesar de la lejanía, es innegable la fascinación por la cocina japonesa en nuestra ciudad

Una de las maneras más sencillas y al mismo tiempo más profundas de conocer a una nación es a través de su gastronomía, los platillos cuentan las riquezas y dificultades de su suelo, la manera en que la sociedad fue sobrellevando y adaptando esas características, incluso puede hablarte de la historia, las conquistas y la filosofía. Ese es el caso de la cocina japonesa, basada principalmente en el cultivo que mejor puede prosperar en una isla volcánica con temperaturas altas en verano: el arroz, así como el pescado, el mejor aliado en un territorio donde las condiciones no propician el ganado y además cuenta con influencias budistas.

Pese a las dificultades (tanto naturales como políticas) a las que se ha enfrentado esta nación, su gastronomía es reconocida mundialmente por su atractivo visual, así como por la combinación de sabores que emplea, y es que detrás de estos platillos hay estrictas reglas en cuando a los modos de preparación y los ingredientes a utilizar, teniendo como eje central su fijación por la armonía. De igual manera, la dedicación a sus técnicas culinarias es notoria: desde los finos cortes de sashimi, pasando por la preparación a mano de los fideos para el ramen hasta la delicadeza con la que se prepara un antojo callejero como el takoyaki, el japonés pone empeño en lo que prepara.

Una vez que el País del Sol Naciente salió de su aislamiento, ha fascinado a otras naciones, incluyendo México. Las relaciones entre ambos países han permitido tanto que japoneses decidan radicar en nuestro país, como que nuestros connacionales regresen con nuevos sabores y ambiciones dentro del equipaje. A continuación te mostramos algunos restaurantes que nos asoman a esta intrincada gastronomía.

Ingredientes comunes

En tu experiencia culinaria, es probable que te topes con uno o más de estos:

•      Dashi. Caldo a base de alga kombu y/o pescado que se utiliza principalmente en platos con fideos y sopa miso.

•      Matcha. Se trata de una variedad especial de té verde molido empleado en la ceremonia del té. Gracias a su gran versatilidad, también se utiliza en postres y ha ganado popularidad como superalimento.

•      Soya. Esta leguminosa con altas cantidades de proteína se utiliza de distintas presentaciones como salsas, germinado e incluso como base para el tofu.

•      Tsukemono. Los encurtidos son parte de la dieta común de los japoneses, como el jengibre, la ciruela, los nabos, entre otros. Por ejemplo, el jengibre lo encontraremos como acompañamiento del sushi, mientras que una ciruela en medio del arroz es icónica.

•      Wasabi. Esta raíz perteneciente a la familia del rábano tiene un sabor amargo ligeramente picante y se utiliza como condimento en el sushi y otros platillos.

•      Narutomaki. Conocido en occidente por su presencia en el ramen y soba (así como uno que otro anime) consiste en una pasta de pescado con un diseño en espiral.

EL RAMEN DE KOJI

H: L – S de 13:00 a 21:30 h. D de 13:00 a 19:30 h.

Av. Vallarta 3300, Primer piso, local 26

Av. Rafael Sanzio 632, Local 1

El restaurante ha sido la manera en que Koji Matsuo agradece la hospitalidad de los mexicanos a la vez que comparte su cultura natal con uno de los platillos más conocidos fuera de su país: el ramen. Aquí personalizas el ramen a tu gusto desde el caldo, los fideos e incluso los topping y la proteína que llevará, contemplando también una opción vegana y algunas recomendaciones para los indecisos. También cuentan con bocadillos como sushi, postres y cervezas japonesas. Su éxito ha sido tal que recientemente abrieron una nueva sucursal.

MOMOTABI GYOZA & CURRY HOUSE

H: Mie y J de 19:00 a 22:00 h. V - D de 15:00 a 22:00 h.

Av. México 2069, Col. Ladrón de Guevara T/ 3315733540

El equipo de Momotabi destaca por su esmero para brindarles a sus comensales una experiencia con toda la esencia del País del Sol Naciente. Además de su asombrosa ornamentación, encontrarás una interesante variedad de gyozas para compartir entre amigos y un curry que evoca la nostalgia gastronómica de una nación, todo elaborado desde cero. Los postres son un paso obligatorio con sus sabores y texturas únicos, ya sea que busques algo fresco y ligero como un raspado o un complejo paraíso dulce como el Sweet Moriawase.

UKE MOCHI

H: L - J de 15:00 a 23:00 h. V y S de 15:00 a 0:00 h.

José María Vigil 2991, Col. Providencia T/ 3315223736

Nombrado así en honor a la diosa de los alimentos y la vitalidad, el local nos demuestra que si hay algo que le sobra a la comida vegana es la variedad y versatilidad. Aquí encontrarás platillos de fusión oriental completamente veganos y bastante coloridos. Entre las opciones japonesas encontrarás sushi, irresistibles edamames y también bebidas como la cerveza Lucky Budha y Nami, el primer sake mexicano.

HATO

H: L – D de 13:00 a 23:00 h.

Efraín González Luna 2079, Col. Americana T/ 3323068783

Autoproclamado como “Fine Ramen”, la cocina de este lugar se distingue por el extremo cuidado en la técnica y los insumos que utilizan en la interpretación que el chef Paul Bentley a la oferta gastronómica de Japón. El fuerte de este lugar es el ramen, con una diversa carta dedicada a este platillo siendo el Ramen de Foie Gras el platillo insignia de Bentley. Adiconalmente, encontrarás donburi (platillo a base de arroz, carne y vegetales) así como wraps de cerdo, gyozas y deliciosos postres como mochi y cheesecake japonés.

KITSUNE IZAKAYA

H: L – S de 14:00 a 22:30 h.

Libertad 1611, Col. Americana T/ 3315242998

El local busca recrear la dinámica de las izakayas japonesas, lugares a donde los empleados acuden después de su jornada para relajarse un poco, beber y compartir algún platillo con tus amigos. Entre sus entradas encontrarás gyozas, takoyakis y edamames, mientras que en las especialidades encontrarás el coreano dankgangjeon (pollo frito con cacahuates bañado en salsa agridulce). Puedes beber sake o cervezas japonesas, pero también hay opciones sin alcohol como el calpis lychee y el café vietnamita.

Restaurantes japoneses

PANDA ROLL

H: L-D, de 12:00 a 21:00 h

Enrique Díaz de León 343, a media cuadra de Independencia.

Su historia se remonta a dos decenios y siguen avanzando, entre sus más recientes sucursales se encuentra aquella por Enrique Díaz de León y la visitamos recién.

En su menú hay un gran número de opciones para elegir, en entradas sus aros de calamar, sus brochetas de pollo, camarón o queso. Encuentras sopas de pasta udon, conos, fideos chinos, y una amplia selección de ramen bowls.

Lo que destaca sin duda son sus sushis, les recomendamos ir directo a los especiales. De nuestros favoritos está el “Especial Roll”, con pepino, aguacate, queso crema por dentro, camarón y pulpo por fuera con topping kanikawa, aguacate encima, bañado en salsa de anguila y ajonjolí.

Otro para no dejar pasar es el “Tokyo Roll”, pepino, aguacate, queso crema por dentro, encima más queso crema con ajonjolí, topping kanikawa, bañado en salsa de anguila. Cada uno que pruebes te dejará satisfecho, es una combinación de sabores deliciosa.

SUKI SUSHI BUFFET

H: L-J, de 10:00 a 21:00 h, V-S, de 10:00 a 21:30 h

Av. Juárez 523 entre Donato Guerra y Enrique González Martínez. T/3658-3943

El lugar es amplio, en la entrada a tu izquierda encontrarás su banda giratoria de sushis, y ahí comienza la aventura. Si el antojo es sobre este platillo puedes sentarte alrededor de este módulo y tomar los sushis que se te antoje al ver pasar.

O puedes llevar los que te coquetean en tu plato a tu mesa, sobre todo si es la primera vez que llegas porque vale la pena disfrutar de todo lo que encontrarás. Las opciones son una combinación de cocina japonesa y china. Encuentras en la barra platillos como rollos primavera, camarón empanizado que estaba delicioso, filete de pescado, pollo en diferentes presentaciones como “a la naranja”, costillitas que estaban para chuparse los dedos. También lomo, arrachera, y una selección de verduras, brócoli, champiñón, arroz. Hay sopa de mariscos y fideos chinos y más adelante hay platillos a la plancha que puedes pedir, si se te antoja un arroz o algunas verduras puedes pedirlas.

RADZO

H: Ma-J, de 14:00 a 21:30 h; V-S, de 14:00 a 22:30 h; D, de 14:00 a 18:30 h

Vidrio 2074 a media cuadra de Av. Chapultepec.

Para comenzar en las entradas no pueden faltar los bao, nosotros probamos el de cerdo, elaborado con panza de cerdo, vegetales, encurtidos, aderezado con mayonesa de ajo asado. La textura es ligera y la explosión de sabores abre el apetito en espera del plato fuerte. En este rubro también encontrarás gyozas de cerdo y camarón, un gohan y yakitori de pollo.

Antes de llegar a las estrellas de lugar, el menú te ofrece también hamburguesas, con la Buta Burgers como una de las favoritas, elaborada con láminas de chashu (cerdo marinado japonés), tomate asado y lechuga. O puedes probar su versión veggie con portobello asado, tofu, tomate asado, espinaca, aderezada con mayonesa de ajo y aderezo asiático.

Los ramen es lo que hay que presumir de Radzo, y nosotros probamos el Tonkotsu, en caldo a base de huesos de cerdo, noodles, huevo tierno, alga nori, espinaca, germinado de soya, cebollin, naruto y chashu. Tienen un par de aderezos de casa que vale la pena pedirlos para terminar de sazonar el caldo, queda picosito y muy rico.

TORA TORA

H: L, Mie-S, de 14:00 a 22:30 h, D de 14:00 a 18:00 h, Martes cerrados.

Libertad 1972 entre Chapultepec y Progreso.

Es el tercero de una familia de restaurantes enfocados a la comida oriental, de seguro conoces a Peko Peko y Uma Uma. Para abrir apetito te recomendamos un gua bao, pan al vapor con panceta con piel cocida, con especias orientales, cilantro, chicora marinada y cacahuate, está para chuparse los dedos. Aquí sus estrellas son los okonomiyakis, uno de los platillos japoneses más tradicionales, cocinado en plancha de hierro y con ingredientes básicos como harina de trigo, huevo, col, carnes y mariscos.

También llevan mayonesa, salsa okonomiyaki, pescado, jengibre rojo y alga marina en polvo. Tienen dos estilos: el Osaka y el Hiroshima, nosotros probamos el segundo de panceta y fue un descubrimiento afortunado al paladar. Otra recomendación a ojos cerrados es el ramen japonés, con caldo de pollo y en diferentes opciones como el tantan con carne molida de cerdo, huevo marinado, germinado de soya, espinaca, cebolla cambray, ajonjolí y cacahuate.

ATARASHI 33

H: L-S, de 13:30 a 20:30 h

Morelos 995 a unos pasos de Av. Enrique Díaz de León. T/3826-8382.

Apenas a unas cuadras del Templo Expiatorio tiene un amplio menú de comida japonesa. Encontrarás los básicos, los onigiris que son esas bolas de arroz empanizado, sashimis de corte delgado, gohan, los rollos California, teppanyakis, yakimeshis, entre otros.

Y por supuesto que las opciones de casa, las especialidades, de las cuales probamos por ejemplo el llamado Pozolito, una sopa caliente con camarón, pulpo y osaji, acompañado de pasta, aguacate, limón y cebollín. Por supuesto que los sushis son imprescindibles, como su rollo de Camarón por fuera, con un top de mango encima y salsa de anguila, delicioso. O que tal el que lleva el nombre de casa, el sushi Atarashi 33 lleva pulpo por fuera, mango y sashimi.

El yakimeshi también encanta desde la vista y termina de convencer al primer bocado, que al igual lo puedes pedir con pollo, res, camarón, salmón o las combinaciones disponibles. Otras de sus especialidades son sus makis, de camarón, pollo, res, entre otros.

No.1144. 160819

[le-petitmort]

My ye olde time machine of smut writing

***I used to write smut with a friend of The Peep and mine, and this little piece was the very first one we put together. We went on after this trial effort to write a  book series worth of material as two other characters, which was never published. Nor ever will it ever be, because it devolved into a dirty words vocabulary contest which required the reader to have a dictionary available as they read and diddled to the various scenes. That would only work if humans had three hands. Also, the whole editing books thing is too time consuming and neither of us wanted to fuck around with that or getting a literary agent or just about anything to do with anything other than writing smut.

It’s sure nice to see the growth in my writing though over five years.***

****Pardon the typos. This was some quickly done rough draft shit written on the internet for other people who were only trying to get off.***

Chapter I: The madam comes calling (Dez with Finley Strong)

March 8, 2014 at 7:53 AM

Dez Dickerson

A dominant without a submissive is like a car without its engine. It hadn’t taken long, and I was back on the prowl, if you will. The desires needed to be quenched and there was only one way to quell the thirst. It’s how I wound back up at the sex club under that fantastic Mexican restaurant I’d visited so many times before. I took a stroll through, checked out the rooms and tried my hardest to enjoy the goings on. Maybe I’m getting old? Is twenty-six too old or too young for this sex club shit? The place reeked of desperation with the vibe of a holiday vacation. Touristy dominance, Disney submissions. I walked the steps upward into the restaurant stopping to speak with Lorena, the Amazonian proprietor of the establishment who came bedecked in her six-inch spikes, too tight corset and barely there mini. No, I was not interested in Lorena. For fucks sake, she was a domme, there was nothing in it for me. The conversation did prove worthwhile though. Yes, I’m not looking for a commitment. Yes, I’m open newbies and experienced. Would I be opposed to her referring trusted individuals to me? No. Lorena sent me on my way with a promise that I would hear from her soon. The call came the very next day and here I was now, in the loft awaiting the appearance of one Finley Strong. Quite the name for a submissive. Would she prove her surname correct or would she succumb like a flower, wilting under the heat of my presence? Only time would tell. As I heard the clank of the steel outer door slamming shut I tried not to smile as if I were a lion being served fresh meat.  Lorena had instructed her well. Walk into the big main room, stand at its direct center, wait. I heard her stilettos click across the grey concrete and halt accordingly. As I strode out of the kitchen I wasn’t disappointed. She stood tall and straight, eyes forward and chin raised with that touch of an overtly defiant attitude. Good show girl, we’ll break that soon enough. The question is how. How does she want it broken? Does she even want what I come to expect as natural? The agreement with Lorena called for giving them what they needed, not necessarily what Dez felt they needed. At least that’s how the bitchy Mexicano had stated it to me. Once in my clutches those tides could change, rolling back out to sea and redefining our meeting like the openness of the sea. Feel her out, do right by her. That was the last words of wisdom from Lorena, who certainly didn’t want to hazard to guess what was held in the mind of Ms. Finley Strong.  Feel her out I did. One circle around and I was reaching out, two finger lightly touching at her hip, tracing over the small of her back as I walked, stopping in front with my fingers pressed at her mid-section. If I could say one thing about her, besides recognizing her striking beauty and fiery eyes, is that she was immaculately put together. I let my hand drift upward through the skin bared valley between her two succulent globes, the covered tips aroused to a point. Tasty. At least I imagined them to be quite tasty, once I was afforded the opportunity to partake of her sans clothing. I drew a single finger up her neck feeling her slight gulp as I went straight for her chin tipping it higher. Finley’s eyes remained forward to the same spot on the wall she had been fixated on. Resolve. That in itself shot a lightning bolt to my cock. “I’m Dez, but I’m sure you knew that already. When you’re allowed to speak there are a few rules. The name…Dez…is how you refer to be. I don’t play the sir or master game. Simply Dez. Get it memorized now.” A drop of my hand to her shoulder, letting it slide down her arm then falling over her curvaceous body until I was leaning forward cupping her ass in my palm. Her breath poured against my neck, heated and heavy.  “Lorena made it apparent that you had a wish, some hunger you needed to feed that you’ve either been denied or have been denying yourself. A release as it were. Which in itself should be the ultimate goal when you’re with me. Release. My release.” I let go of her magnificent backside and stepped away, firmly in Dez mode one hand lifted brushing over my beard. Yes, she was definitely going to do I thought to myself, if for nothing other than the fact she had as yet shown not one emotion. Finley Strong appeared the type who demanded it be brought out of by a fierce hand. That…I could accommodate. “So, here’s where this goes Ms. Finley Strong. You tell me what your limits are and why you’re here. I will decide if I like what I hear.” I smiled at my fine use of homonyms. “None of that do whatever you want Dez shit, I don't go in for that. Open your mind to Dez. If you intrigue me in a way that separates you from the herd, I will nod towards the door. That doesn’t mean leave. That means get your ass to the entryway, remove every stitch of clothing and reenter. You will walk across this great room and follow that hallway to the first door on the right. Enter, walk to the X on the floor and kneel, open and presented. Make very certain your thighs are wide and inviting, hands clasped tightly behind your head. Back arched, those fucking tits jutting in anticipation. Got it? Go on now…with the talking. It’s the last time you’ll be saying much of anything.”

Finley Strong  Well shit, she hadn't expected that. Fin had already forgotten about the seemingly insignificant conversation with Lorena two weeks ago; Lorena hadn't. They rambled on about their sex lives over margaritas--as they often did. One too many and Fin was spouting off something to the effect of 'I just want someone to tie me up and fuck me proper.' Apparently, that had stuck with Lorena, because Fin was the first person on Lorena's list when just such an opportunity presented itself. Hello opportunity, insert Dez Dickerson. Fin hung up the phone, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, a slow ache sitting steadfast in the pit of her stomach. Nerves? What the fuck should she be nervous about? Finley thought as she plucked a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater out of her closet. Because it was so completely out of character for Finley Strong. She ran a brothel for fucks sake. Which, in itself didn't necessarily dictate a personality with a propensity for maintaining control, but it did enhance every domineering quality Fin already possessed. In all honesty, she had been hard wired to run the roost. It had been that way all her life. And now what? She was going to relinquish most, if not all, of that to a perfect stranger? Fin shook her head and shimmied into her jeans, stepped into a pair of ass-jacking Louboutins and headed to the address Lorena provided. She already had fucking instructions, Fin thought with a smirk, and it hadn't even really begun. You got this, Fin. Piece of cake. Piece of pie. Perhaps the thing that worried her the most was her ability to let go. . .or lack there of. When it came down to it, was she going to be able to submit? Oh sure, the concept seemed simple enough, but when you got down to the nitty gritty, Fin feared she would have to fight herself every single step of the way. Turning a control freak into a sub wasn't going to happen overnight. Don't talk back, be obedient, leave your attitude at the door--all of which seemed like impossible tasks at the moment. Exhaling deeply, she brushed her mahogany locks out of her face, yanked the steel door open confidently, and sauntered into the main room, standing as instructed with her eyes locked on a single point in the wall. The nerves had gone, Fin had constructed her wall, the stage was as good as set. She stood straight shouldered, chin tipped up, eyes never moving from the original point. Yea, she fucking wanted this--she knew it the instant she felt that tingling sensation in her fingertips. The second Fin saw him walking towards her out of her peripherals, her pulse quickened. If she had a 'type,' Dez Dickerson fit that mold perfectly. Tattoos, check. An air of 'I don't give a fuck' masculinely unkempt demeanor that screamed 'I am who I am, if you don't like it, kindly fuck off,' check. But the nail in the coffin was his fucking voice. Low, smoky, direct, unwavering. Like warm honey dripping over every inch of her skin. The small of her back arched just slightly as his fingertips etched their way along her skin, her body instantly responding to him. Finley slowed her breathing and firmly instructed her body to get its shit together. At least as of now, Fin was in control of the way her body reacted--not him, not yet. Eyes straight forward, she listened intently, expressionless, his hands exploring as he pleased, finally resting on the curve of her ass. He knew exactly what he was doing. Every touch calculated, perfect by design, expertly placed to optimize pleasure. Fin knew one thing for sure, if this endeavor continues, he was going to play her body like a fucking flute. . .and, at the end of the day, there was nothing she could about it. And then came his questions. They had caught her completely off guard for whatever reason. What are your limits and why are you here? The first inquiry was simple: there are no limits. But the second, well, that one required a little more inward exploration. Jesus, every primitive instinct inside her was chomping at the bit to shove him against the wall and fuck him senseless. That's what she wanted. Yet, she remained silent for a moment, still contemplating her answer. That's not why you're here, Fin, she reminded herself. I want you to tie me up and fuck me proper, was the next answer that popped into her mind. Well, fucking duh, Fin. She wouldn't be standing here right now if that wasn't eventually going to happen. I want you to own my body in ways I've never imagined. Okay, she thought, that's going somewhere. Why are you here, Fin? It was something more than an orgasm. The myriad of response all led to one thing: control. In every thing she did, Fin had to have control. It was an exhausting endeavor, yes, but relinquishing control to her meant something more than a rest from decision making. She had never just /let go/. She had never experienced the imperforate feeling of subjugation. The freeing of awareness that comes only when you've surrendered everything--mind and body--to another. For the first time her eyes met his. She studied his facial expressions and mannerisms. Those fucking eyes, Finley mused. They look right into your soul, straight to your very core. Her emerald orbs held his stare for a moment before she spoke. "No limits." She paused to emphasize her seriousness with the first answer. "And what I want is to let go. Completely. To the point that it terrifies me." Make what you will of that, Dez Dickerson, but it's just about the most honest answer you will ever get out of Finley Strong.

Dez Dickerson

 The first two words out of her mouth set me off like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. Either she was looking for chastising or she had no clue about my opinionated manner on all thing dom/sub. Two fucking words, that's it. I sucked in air through my flared nostrils, filling my lungs until I thought they would burst like a balloon. No limits. I exhaled out a furious rush of breath, my hand lifting and grasping at back of Finley's neck, wrapping my fingers tight as I prodded her towards the corner. "Keep your mouth shut, unless asked to speak. One hand up high on each wall. Lean forward balanced on your toes. I want that ass pointing for me. Calling for my hand." I took a step back, drinking in her form. The way her back arched in a perfect curve, a striking contrast to her straight as a board legs. the cascade of her dark hair a barrier shielding her facial expressions from me. One step forward and I was pressing my jeans covered bulge against the crack of her ass. Just enough to make her wiggle with heady anticipation. I wrapped my arm in front of Finley and began unbuttoning her shirt in the most painfully slow manner, my cock pressing harder at her backside. "No limits, huh?" I barked it out, closing in on her ear as my fingers worked at the buttons. "That isn't something you should ever say to a dominant. A lot of crazy people in the world." With her shirt now hanging loose I moved to the side. One glancing blow of my hand to her ass. "No limits?" My palm cracked downward again, an shocked audible umph of air came blasting out of Finley. "So what you're saying is that I could do anything to you that I want. I could put a collar on you right now. Make you walk around this loft like a dog. Make you bark for me. Is that what you want Ms. Strong." I lowered my hand swift and merciless on those tight as a second skin jeans of hers. A yank back at her shoulder and in on motion Finley was off the wall and shirtless. "Scat Finley...piss. You just told me those things were fine by you. No limits." I pushed her flat palmed against the walls, both hands to her stomach. Rising them higher I cupped Finley's pert round tits, my dick back to grinding on her. Yes, this was all a change of plans from my status quo. No strip down in the entryway and get to the play room today. No limits meant Dez changing things up. Maybe that's what I needed, something different, something extraordinary. I took my thumb and forefinger over what I imagined to be the pinkest areolae, taking each budded nipples for a twist and pull, both now pointing like the tip of an arrow, as if I was commanding it to happen. Which I most definitely was. "Interesting Finley. You have given me the go ahead to lock you in a cage and bring you out when I want to. Hell, I never have to let you leave this place. No limits. I could decide to own you now. Would you prefer I call you pet or bitch or what?" I kept up the manual torment on her right breast as my other hand dropped to her jeans quickly unbuttoning and dropping the zipper. My hand slid inside and over her thong, a tap tap tap of finger like her snatch was a dewy drum head. "Kick off the hooker shoes and strip down." Finley hesitated, the kind of apprehension that said is this guy for real or what the fuck have I gotten myself into. Which ever it was I wasn't in the mood for a dawdling submissive. "Now! Or else I'm going to go grab a sharpie and write "Dez's pokey ass slut" on your forehead. I can do that. No limits. You said it yourself." I wasn't waiting on her to get moving, I tugged at the band of her pants, puling them down as I heard her shoes rattle off the wall. "Good girl. Daddy likes your newfound listening skills." There she was nude before me and I wished I could see the look on her face. I would soon enough, for now I lived with my imagination and the vision of her body heaving in a combination of heart racing, breath fighting for more air, nerves edged and unsure of what would happen next. "Hands back on the wall, get up on those toes. You're getting twenty to the ass. Instead of counting them out for me like a good little sub I want you reminding me...no limits...after each one.  Boom, I dropped the first one, then the second like a thunder clap. Each one in succession with a response from Finley as her uplifted ass turned a pretty shade of crimson, the imprints of palm and fingers on full display. Finished, I fisted at her hair, a rough pull that spun Finley facing me. I leaned down eye to eye, my mouth close enough to almost capture her trembling lips. I let my voice drop deep, gravelly and domineering. "Lucky for you Ms. Strong I do not believe in the theory of no limits or else this could have gone terribly wrong. Do not ever...ever..say that to any man. That's your first lesson for today. Are we clear? And don't even think of calling me daddy." I let go of her long tresses and watched her head fall. "Eyes back up. You need a safe word also. It will be..." I had to think on that for a moment. That word I purposely wanted to be slightly off the wall. "...Toyota. I will be getting myself water, because this will be a long night. While I do that I want you marching to the play room...reciting your safe word loud enough that I can hear it. Get that sweet little ass in front of the St. Andrew's cross in there. Keep reciting your word..." I dropped my eyes over Finley. "...get one hand working over those perfect tits the other strumming that tense, ready clit I haven't had the pleasure of tormenting yet." I gave a crooked smile. "I'm assuming that pussy is wet and wanting right now. Probably throbbing in need of being filled. That'll happen soon enough." I turned towards the kitchen and made an abrupt spin back to Finley. "What are you waiting for. Get going. Now."

 Finley Strong

 She had set him off. Like a pile of fucking dynamite a mile high. As unintentional as it had been, something sick and sadistic inside Finley was mildly pleased that she had triggered him so quickly. Fin’s jaws clenched instantly when his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, one of her hands palmed the wall as instructed as she teetered on the tips of heels and arched the small of her back as deeply as she could. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She chanted, squeezing her eyes shut at the feeling of him pressed against her. His hand expertly unfastening each button of her blouse. Her mind was spiraling, reeling at the anticipation. Of not knowing what in the fuck he was going to do next with her poised like a damn show pony. . .and no limits. What in the actual fuck had she been thinking by saying that? In her naivety, she had meant it. And then the pit in her stomach resurfaced, nerves eating at her insides like a ravenous plague. The carefully devised wall she had constructed was being torn down, brick by agonizing brick, Dez Dickerson there with a sledgehammer beating the shit out of it like it owed him money. Finley sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth at the first smack; the second had pulled soft whimper from her lungs. Immediately, she pressed her lips together, swallowed hard, and fought every urge to shake her head disgustingly at herself. Damnit! Fucking damnit, Dez Dickerson, you’ve made your point! She was an absolute amateur for saying ‘no limits.’ Her eyes snapped open, his curt tug on her shoulder snapping her back to reality. The reality that this was his world—and she, quite obviously, had no fucking clue what she had gotten herself into. Then back to the wall, both hands this time. A chill ran up her spine the first time his skin met hers. Parting her lips, Finley slowly inhaled and held her breath. Yes, even the slightest of contact sparking a deep aching fire inside her. His fingers coaxing the peaks to perfect hardness. Her back bowed, pressing herself harder into his hand. Jesus, she thought, like a fucking flute. Before she even had time to digest one perfectly placed hand, the other was buried between her thighs. Shit, Finley cursed as her knees gave way slightly under the pressure of his finger. Get your shit together, Strong. Now! Her mental reorganization had caused a seconds delay. It was happening so fast. No sooner had one command been given, then he was barking the next order, all while his hands mind-fucked her body into submission. Now! He barked. With two indignant kicks, she heaved her eight hundred dollar pumps across the room to smack against the wall. So help me, Dez fucking Dickerson, I will shove that goddamned Sharpie. . .her thought trailed off with the rest of her clothing. Two rapid movements and there was nothing left to hide her flesh from his eyes. Hands back on the wall. Fin’s eyes searched the blank canvas as if it had some unspoken answer written in the cracks, her jaw still clenched tightly, lips pursed, mentally preparing herself for the impending twenty lashes. One. The sound of smacking flesh echoed off the walls like an audible aphrodisiac. “No limits.” She spat in a seething whisper. Each subsequent smack eliciting an even louder “No limits.” Each subsequent smack striking to her core. Part of her was wildly turned on by the way his hand felt on her ass, the lingering sting intoxicatingly erotic. Her fingernails dug into the wall, as the other part of Finley fought every urge to spin on her heels and introduce his cheek to her palm. With each swat Finley found herself letting go twenty times until finally, the last stinging slap was followed with an nearly inaudible “No limits.” Point made again, Dez, she mused, the tender skin on her backside now hot and undoubtedly a lovely shade of crimson. A gasp slipped past her lips as her body was twisted like a top around his fist in her hair. Her green eyes staring daggers into his the moment they were finally face to face. Her pulse raging at this point, but her expression stoic and unwavering, her upper lip curling slightly at the instruction to avoid calling him ‘daddy.’ When he barked for her to look up, Fin’s gaze remained steadfast on his face, studying him, half-heartedly listening to what he was telling her to do, rewinding what the fuck had just happened in her mind and playing it in slow motion. You’re trying to break me. To the extent that, to Dez Dickerson ‘no limits’ was an absolute abomination to the dom/sub world, she got it. Yesterday’s Fin would have promptly grabbed her shit and walked out that door butt-ass naked just to prove a point—you’re not going to break me like I’m some wild fucking horse. But today’s Fin knew better. Because, in the end, that’s exactly what he was going to do. That didn’t mean Finley Strong wasn’t going to put up a little bit of resistance. Okay, probably more resistance than he was interested in dealing with. Finley stood there, staring at him walking into the kitchen, wondering just how much Lorena had told him about her. She was quite confident that the next thing that came out of her mouth was going to get her another twenty licks or worse. Finley waited until he turned back around to face her. She strode through the main room and into the kitchen, standing close enough to him that their toes touch, her eyes capturing his. “I know you didn’t give me permission to speak. And perhaps this will be the last time I ever break that rule, but you can lay off the humiliation bit. I get it. You’re teaching me a lesson. I’ve never done. . .” She stopped herself from completing that sentence, confident that one, her ‘no limits’ response made it painfully obvious she hadn’t done this before, and two, he, in all likelihood, didn’t care. “Just. . .That’s my limit. I’m not here for you to humiliate me. I understand there are varying subjective definitions of humiliation, but I think you get the jest. Unless you get off on having me bark like a dog or scribbling rubbish on me like I’m some insignificant piece of trash. In which case, this is probably not going to work out.” With that, Finley spun on her heels and padded towards his play room. “And yes, my pussy is wet and wanting right now.” She called back over her shoulder to him. “Toyota!” Fin shouted as she rounded the corner, cupping one delicate breast in her hand, her index finger and thumb coaxing the peak to a hardness, a pulsating throb setting in warmly between her thighs as she envisioned his hand as the maestro. “Toyota!”

Dez Dickerson

 My admiration for Finley Strong would be off the charts, if she could just keep her trap shut. This was one of those rare situations where I would, in fact, break from my beliefs and jam a ball gag into her pie hole. Well, not really, I hate that shit. I must be allowed to revel in her gasps, moans and groans. Every last one of them I deserved. Yes, I will admit, she was under my skin to even make a gag a passing thought. "Toyota." I could hear it clear as a church bell chiming in a belligerent tone from her voice as I filled my jug to the brim and headed towards Finley. For the second time tonight I had a change of heart on the direction of our encounter. This time it was the crux which had fallen like a brick out of a wall from my plans. No, I had something a little better in mind for Ms. Strong. I wanted full access to her skin. Every minute curve and line that defined that magnificent, majestic body. Of course, once again I would also make each inch pay for her obstinate ways. Fall out of line and get in my face? That would come at some cost. Pain to pleasure. Earn it Finley. Entering the room I listened as she kept up her mantra, which now seemed less a safe word and more a commercial for mid-sized Japanese cars now made in America. Yes Finley, I will pound you like a Tundra being driven through a mud bog. I will make your engine red line and your tires smoke. "Enough." One simple word as I headed for the closet, grabbing a twisted bundle of rope before strolling to Finley. "Arms out, palms pressed in prayer." One hand encircled her tiny wrists, the other began the arduous task of winding the cord to perfection down her slender forearms. Her skin was vibrant and milky and my head wandered to afterward when I released Finley from her binds. The flow of blood would return full force through her veins, each ply of the rope now defined as valleys and peaks in her skin. I was feeling in a peculiar, driven to chat mood today which may be attributed to my seething anger from Finley having the audacity to confront me. Compensation. "Point taken regarding humiliation, however that is far removed from the realm of anything that would ever happen in the confines of my home. Those were...for instances." The twine was set and I ran a loop inside being certain I wanted to keep Finley well restrained. "I have a tendency to provide my point of view in an over the top style. I have always felt the strongest statement, no matter how it is taken, best proves my point. Suffice it to say, should you run across a less than accommodating dominant..." I broke my eyes from my craft and captured hers "...a shady and selfish fucker. I don't want you allowing yourself to be used. That isn't what this is about. Ever." One last cinch and Finley Strong was under my control. I looked up at the ceiling and pulled her out and away from the cross. A new device had been installed and now was as good a time as any for some usage. I had replaced the old strappado which connected to a reel on the wall with an electric hoist. Yes, I was moving into the twenty first century, forsaking manual labor for ease of use. Besides, this way I could grab the controller and have my choice of how high I wanted this lil' ol' smartass. I grabbed the controls, lowering the hook and silently raising Finley's arms straight above her. Attaching the hook to her bind, I hit the button and watched Finley rise until her toes were en pointe, the tips barely able to keep her steady, but low enough that there wasn't undue stress on her limbs. Just enough to make Finley think. To think what next and to remember who was running the show. "This is the part where that safe word comes in handy. Don't try to be too willing. Too up for anything. If you at all get uncomfortable, I want to hear it. I'm not here to ruin you. At least not in that way. I'll save that for the fucking." I lurched off towards the closet, digging through the baskets and grabbing a flogger. The right flogger. I needed to remember that she wasn't experienced, only here to give this piece of the lifestyle a try. I gave the instrument a spin in my wrist as I approached Finley, a sudden swing forward and I brushed over her taut belly, which sucked in hard at the touch accenting her curvaceous hips and protruding tits. "I want three deep breaths and heavy exhales from you Finley." I kept the flogger spinning, the black tendrils a waterfall against her ivory skin, which was now flaired with rouge brush strokes and developing a noticeable sheen. I'd have her sweating it out good momentarily, of that I was sure. "Your mind must be clear of all other thoughts. Focus. Let your gasps of pleasure ignite you into a pyre." Eloquent motherfucker. As the third breath rushed from Finley I started in, doing the counting myself one to one hundred, watching her struggle, then relax. The thought of her pussy getting worked into a fervor, dying for a frenzied explosion of exquisite sensation. "One hundred." I tossed the flogger to the floor and stalked the couple steps to Finley. My hands wandering and massaging, tempting her to writhe with delight. I dropped low, my tongue tracing the bubble of her ass, which now was heated, thoroughly covered in my marks. My hand forced between her thighs, cupping her pussy in my palm like I was holding her aloft. My middle finger dipped, stroking between her folds before diving deep, buried to the hilt. I flicked down hard on the spot I knew would bring a flowing gush of wetness from Finley and I gave my instructions. "I know what this is going to do to you. I know you will melt like a cube of if ice to my touch. I want to hear it. Tell me every detail of what you feel. But most of all. Do. Not. Let. Yourself. Come. That crashing orgasm is the one thing I own in all this. Don't disappoint me Finley."

 Finley Strong

 Those few seconds she waited for him in the playroom seemed like an eternity. The chanting of her safe word didn't help either. It reverberated off the walls as if it were a mocking reminder of his impending arrival. Finley wasn't sure just how much trouble she had gotten herself into by insubordinately invading his personal space. Perhaps that was the most nerve wracking part--the unknown. Strike that, it was the combination of the unknown and lack of control to dictate the next step. The sound of his footsteps behind her made her skin prickle with goose flesh. And as insubordinate as she had been with him two minutes earlier, her body was similarly disobeying her with each passing second. Finley's back arced responsively to his presence, her safe word becoming nothing more than soft sigh. "Enough." He barked from behind. Immediately, Finley shut up and ran her tongue across her lips nervously before pressing them together as she steepled her fingers and pressed her palms together in front of her. Her eyes followed his hands meticulously working the rope around her wrists and forearms, the sensation of restricting the blood flow to her hands causing her fingertips to tingle. Finley listened intently as he spoke, her green orbs tracing the barely visible curves of his lips until finally he paused in his monologue and met her stare for a second. Those eyes. . .they in themselves could wrestle a strong woman into submission. Her stomach sank, and the whole fucking room was silent except for the hypnotic sound of his voice and the rhythmic twisting of rope to flesh. Her body lurched forward slightly as he tugged on the last cinch--her mind absolutely clear. And that was it. No more Finley, or at least no more yesterday's Finley. She tipped her head up, her dark locks spilling over her shoulders and down her back, tensing her body as her arms were pulled taut above her head, the tips of her toes barely grazing the floor. Goodbye to the attitude formerly known as Fin. With a sighing moan, Finley adjusted her wrists to a comfortable position and looked down to find that Dez was no longer in front of her. She squeezed her eyes closed, tying to pinpoint his location in the room only to be awakened by the wisp of leather to her torso. One deep breath in, slow exhale, as instructed. The leather against her skin eliciting a plethora of responses from her as her muscles tensed with anticipation for the licks to get progressively harder. Oh yes, Dez would have his pound of flesh. Another deep inhale, the exhale so painstakingly slow that the sound of her breath echoed in her ears. Clear your mind, Fin, he said clear your mind, she repeated in her head, nodding to him slightly as an acquiescence to his command. Final inhale, exhale. Smack! Fin's body tensed, every muscle tightening. Smack! Her hands balled into tiny fists. Smack! Fin's toes curled as she exhaled slowly, a soft moan riding on her breath. By the forty-second smack, Fin had stopped counting. She had closed her eyes, hands still in white knuckled fists, but her body gave way, relaxing, absorbing the sting of the tassels, her mind wandering to the memory of Dez's hands. Rough, calloused, aggressive, but most of all, fantastically possessive. Smack! Finley cried out his name. It had been totally inadvertent, but it was the first word that came to mind. Jesus, those hands, Fin introverted once again, picturing his fingertips slipping past the cusp and dipping deep inside her. Smack! A low whimpering sigh escaped her lips. "One hundred." Fin's eyes fluttered open. What? No. A hundred? The warm feeling of Dez's tongue along her ass caused her to gasp and tense again, the stinging burn deliciously countered by a soothing wetness. And then his hand, Fin's lips parted but not so much as a peep came out as she tried to decipher if it was real or just her imagination playing her again. As she felt a finger slip into the wetness of her desire, curving perfectly, Finley moaned and let her head hang, her dark tendrils cascading down her torso. The anticipation of which nearly being enough to send her over the edge right then and there. No, this was most definitely real. She pulled her head up when he spoke again, trying to wrap her mind around his instructions while she her fought her body tooth and nail not to climax. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Finley tried to find his eyes, as if to ask for permission to answer his request to tell him what she felt. Melting like an ice cube was a fucking understatement. "M-may I speak?" Her lips finding it hard to form the words; stopping your body from coming when it was so close to fruition was like stopping a freight train with one hand. "I feel overwhelmed?" What the fuck, she hadn't meant for that to come out as a question. "L-like my entire body is going to explode. I um," Her mind raced, all of her thoughts now just jumbled nonsense swimming around in a murky abyss. "I um, God, I want to come, but I don't want to disappoint you. . ." She stopped herself from saying anything else for it would have been nothing more than rambling gibberish. So much for great detail, Dez, her green eyes looking down at her feet that were now perfectly arched.

Dez Dickerson

 Overwhelmed? Darlin' we're just getting this dog and pony show started. I'm going to overwhelm you tenfold before this night is over. Get that hot little body quaking, those knees shaking to the point that you have nothing left in the gas tank. You'll be begging me to keep you stable, mind and body, and at the same time you'll be begging for more pleasure. Overwhelmed? I want you addicted to the process. To know the perfection of your own personal freedom. "Then don't disappoint me." I could feel her walls clench with involuntary rhythmic contractions, like she was about to let loose with a torrential pinnacle that would culminate in a whimpering climax. Her ass pressed back against my hand yearning for more. My thumb sliding over her wetness until it was rubbing over Finley's back door. A press against her opening and I was in, circling against the tight ring in her back side.  My free hand went to grip her hair, ripping back to expose her neck. Head lowered, a lick of the the exposed skin, a nip, another lick back down. I caught the tight skin between my teeth and tented it, eliciting a yelp from Finley. All the while with hands raising the stakes, alternating motions, speed, pressures to both entrances. I caught a glimpse of her emerald eyes rolled back, mouth agape in a show lust filled enjoyment. Another look at those captivating eyes and I had my next move. My digits dropped from Finley and her body slumped as much as it could given the way she hung like a rag doll. I stalked to the closet and rummaged through my wares. I was back in a flash and Finley was none the wiser as to what came next.  A dollop of lube to my finger and I was slipping back inside the warm sanctity of her ass. A second finger and I was getting her loosened, prepared. She wasn't fighting me now, rather ceding herself over to me. Groans being her only responses. It was as if Finley knew I would provide what she needed and it was no longer in her best interest to fight in an unneeded show of pride. My other hand grasped at her ass checks spreading her wider to my advances. Then I gave myself a smirk. "I really love the color of your eyes Finley. I think you need an accessory to match them." My long fingers slid fast from her ass and POP, I slipped an emerald jeweled ass plug seated deep and snug inside. Finley's body shot forward in an arc of semi-resistance to the intrusion, her voice piercing the room with a surprised moan. I latched onto her hips steadying her as she settled back in. "Green's one of my favorite colors." I did a bend down admiring the anal accoutrement. "You had a damn fine ass before. Now it's...it's simply fuckable Ms. Strong. Well, fillable...for now...would be the better word." I gave a little laugh as I raised my shirt up and over my head, flinging off to the side, pouncing on Finley, spinning her towards me. The granite slab of my chest pressed against her pillowy breasts. My fingers splayed through her locks palming the back of her head. A lean lower and I captured her mouth. A dart of the tongue past her puffed lips and I met hers. Hesitant at first, I felt Finley sigh against me. Her tongue giving a devilish swirl over mine as if she had succumbed to the last temptation.  This is what I had strove for, Finley to make her own move. Show me how fucking bad you want it girl. Her mouth was doing just that. Mere words could not describe the fire that was burning, the ache that was throbbing inside Finley Strong. I dropped a palm cupping her ass, fingers pressed and twisting at the toy stuck full inside her. Enough teasing to work her up to the next level. The pain of my own molten member engorged and leaking was all I could take. I broke from Finley and moved across the room. Full view for her as I took my hand to my belt buckle. Snapping it open, unbuttoning my jeans and dropping them down the sinewy length of my legs. My dick sprang to attention catching Finley's eye. For my part I could only smile at her response. I took my sweet time walking back, my cock leading the way until I had the hoist control in my hand, lowering Finley flat footed. Unhooked, I grabbed her bound wrists and led her towards the tan bricks of the wall. At first I had her facing the bricks, her waist under my control. My feet kicked between her separating Finley wide. My palm went between her legs, five hard greedy slaps to her waiting entrance. I reached for her rope cover arm, spinning her facing me in a wicked pirouette. Smack, smack, smack. My hand bore down hard between her legs. Finley seemed lost to it all now, breathing jagged and body unsteady. A hot little fiery mess. In a swift motion my fingers were corseting her waist. A lift and her lithe form and tulip stem legs wrapped around me. I banged Finley off the wall and her tied arms dropped around my head, resting on my shoulders. I pressed her back against the bricks my mouth on hers, adjusting the bulbous head of my iron hard tumescence so that it was rubbing against the slick wetness of her excitement. Sliding up I hit her rigid, responsive clit, flicking my head back and forth across it, feeling her shimmy in response.  "This is the part where I fuck you silly. Remember the rule Finley. No coming until I say so. It's going to be mind shattering when I allow it." That was it. One thrust and I was between the stretching walls of her body, bottoming out at the place where she most ached for engulfment. Her private satin flesh a receptive, desperate dark haven of all Finley Strong's urges.

Finley Strong

 There were a million different things crashing together in the most elaborate way imaginable. For Finley, she had always been the “dom.” Perhaps not to this extent, but she was was used to running the show. If she wanted it, she took it. She fucked and was fucked when and how she said so. But now, Jesus fucking Christ. Her body was being pulled in so many directions that she hardly had time to comprehend what happened thirty minutes ago. Stop. Stop right now, Fin. Stop thinking and react. Let. Go. His goddamned hands worked her over, her hips bucked against his fingers, her breath hitching in her throat as he circled a pressure point from behind. Finley's hands gripped the rope and pulled herself up slightly, parting her thighs for him, one knee cocked to the side. The hard hand in her hair and teeth to her neck were it, she wanted to jump out of her fucking skin. Spurs to a rodeo bull, was more like it. Finley gasped a hissing breath, turning her face to Dez in an attempt to capture his mouth, but he and his magic fucking fingers were gone. With a heavy sigh, Fin’s body went limp for a second. In the second following, her body lurched forward; the penetration from behind catching her off guard. Her muscles went taut, and then relaxed, her mind trying to wrap itself around everything. With choppy breaths, Finley spiraled and writhed, concupiscent as she drank in every erotic sensation coursing through her with a raging fervor. He had done it, with seemingly effortlessness, Dez had unraveled Finley Strong from the inside out. When their lips melded together, Finley sighed heavily against his mouth, her tongue meeting his and twisted around it, tasting him fully for the first time. She leaned into the kiss, and pressed her mouth onto his hard, almost aggressively, trying to take as much of him in these brief seconds of contact that she could. His hands reached around to her ass and oh-my-god--the weight of her body proving to be a momentary hindrance as her knees gave way. Still fixated on his mouth and the way his tongue traced every contour of hers, Fin captured his bottom lip and raked it between her teeth as he pulled away. Licking the rest of him off her lips, Finley released an exaggerated exhale through her nose. Let me down, Dez, so I can rip you apart. She was ready. Dripping wet, ready, and insatiably hungry. He had teased her to the point of delirium; revving her up such that nothing existed outside the world of fucking Dez Dickerson's brains out. She had been docile for a round or two. Even asked for permission to speak. He quite literally spanked it out of her, Fin couldn't deny him that, but she could feel the finale nearing, the anticipation was unbearable, and she was going to eat him alive or die trying. He lowered her down and walked them over to the wall. With her palms flush to the bricks, Finley bent over, ass in the air, for him. Wasn't it all for him? Her skin trembling under his hands as she counted the seconds that mockingly lingered on. Each calculated move by him devised to elicit a very particular response for her. . .and it did. Every. Single. Time. Finley rested her forehead on her hands, moaning uncontrollably at the deliciously electric feeling of the smack of his hand between her thighs. A vibrating cadence rocked her shoulders forward, Fin tapping her head against her hands a few times, ardently contracting her velvety walls and biting her bottom lip, trying with unimaginable strength to keep quiet and not come. Fuck, she was so close. . .dangerously so. Don't come. Don't come. Don't you dare fucking come, Finley Strong. Spinning her like a top, Dez's hands lifted her up, Finley giving little to no resistance as her back slammed against the wall, her arms falling to drape around his neck like a noose while she vised his body with her legs around his waist. Jesus Christ, yes, Finley thought, a desperate sob exuding off a sharp breath, the feeling of his hardness slipping between her dewy lips, pressing farther up with exacting precision to message her throbbing clitoris caused her body to tremor uncontrollably with desire. Yes! At the sound of the word 'fuck' rolling off his lips, Finley's bound wrists tugged at the back of his neck as she looked up at him from behind her thick lashes with bedroom eyes. God damnit, I get it, just fuck me already! And before she could even finish the thought, with one artfully executed thrust he was buried deep inside her. "Oh my fucking God. . ." Finley whispered, her head hanging for a moment before she whipped it back up and, with a forceful yank, possessively took his lips with hers again. Raw, sweaty flesh to flesh. Rolling her hips into his, Finley held his mouth to hers with her wrists behind his neck. Her thighs tightened around him as his hands slid down the small of her back with hard fingers finally digging into the taut muscles of her ass. She arched and bowed her back, grinding her hips against his like a python slipping through turbulent waters. "Dez. . ." She moaned, his name like a fucking incantation. Curving her hips up as she leaned back, Finley pressed off his pulsing cock, almost sliding off him completely, then bucked against him, slowly lowering herself down until he was completely entombed in her milky wetness. Finley's breath hiccuped in her throat, each becoming more shallow than the last. She leaned the back of her head against the bricks and rode each of his deliberate thrusts with matching enthusiasm, small whimpering sighs transforming into cries of ecstasy. The shortness of his breath only spurring her on as she rode the prelude of her climax almost as hungrily as she rode him. I want to see it, damn you, Fin cursed him. I want to see it in your eyes, that wanting. . .that telling elation as the pupils of your eyes dilate. Give it to me, Dez. Give it to me.

Dez Dickerson

 Much consideration must be given to Finley Strong, even now as she rides me like a rodeo bull. I’m blasting another fast and frantic frenzy as her hips hinge loosely in response, her quim devouring my tool like a salacious sheath. We’d avoided the chit chat upon her appearance at the loft, but I had learned enough about her from Lorena. Finley’s eyes became hypnotic as I caught a glimpse while rocking her with a measured, insistent rhythm showing the disregard one only holds for a those that can handle themselves in such a situation.  She was more than capable, I knew that coming in. Lorena had intimated her profession, that Finley was a madam. For many that would be a judgmental moment. A madam? A whore? Not me, no interest in that. Actually, maybe a great deal of interest because it meant one thing. Whether or not she had prior experience with a dominant she knew how to handle herself accordingly. First on her agenda in any skin on skin scenario? Wild, uninhibited recklessness with the sole purpose of providing pleasure. As a madam how many women had been under her tutelage? Countless I’m sure learned this arch in groaning protest she provided. Others I’m sure had caught on to the way that protest abandoned to longing. With a grind Finley crushed down against me and those viridescent pupils brimmed with ecstasy, prodding me to give a slice of the power over to her. That’s her job, she knew no other way. With a rutting grunt I slammed upward lifting Finley in my final culmination. We moved in total harmony, her pressing down to meet each thrust as if it were the last. Undulating and rippling against me our mouths met fierce and relentless, her's as sweet as sugar. This is the sliver of time when you have to decide if holding out is better than relenting to pulsating waves of pleasure. With her breathing forced from her lungs deep shuddering and desperate I mounted my last stand resigned to defeat like Custer at Little Bighorn. Was it defeat? To admit that it wasn’t necessary to make her beg for that orgasm she was teetering on the brink of. Just the sound of my name gasped and falling from her tongue was serendipity. The most pleasant of surprises. Our open mouthed clash of tongues fell away impeded by the need to suck in every last lungful of air as spasms of delight began to rocket through us. It began.  “Come with me.” Not my usual insistent demand for her orgasm. I felt Finley lose control, that first cry of deliverance as she convulsed in a chain of spasms, milking from me the pulsing life that flooded her like hot molten lava. My weight leaned driving her one last time against the wall, breathless and dizzy as we rocket through the universe. As fast as we started, we ended. Finley clung to me her heart pounding a beat against me that slowed to a murmur as consciousness was regained. My fingers still dug in at her ass raised her, my relieved cock firmly held in her care. I stepped away from the wall carrying Finley off to my bathroom. It always goes the same. The one thing that will never change. She had allowed me to bring her to a new plateau and now was the time to show some gratitude. I rested her thoroughly worn out ass on the cool of the granite counter. Dipping down and out her arms were now in front of me as I silently released her from the ties. One hand leading the other in a smoothing massage over each curve of rope indented skin I asked if she was ok. Satisfied, I took her hand, sliding her off the counter and spinning Finley facing the mirror. Once again my hands touched at her back assessing each mark, trying to provide a different relief than we had encounter minutes earlier.  Fingers once again at her ass I jerked the plug from Finley stealing a startled gasp. I reached inside the shower running the multiple jets, letting the heat rise as I turned back to her. A lift of her chin, a brushing kiss, another question of her state. I wasn’t sending her home fucked up and unsure of what had just transpired. I could only imagine the call from Lorena. The crazy spanglish cursing me for not doing my due diligence, assailing my manhood and honor. Whisking Finley into the stall I set her in the midst of the rushing, pulsating and misting water, the soap in my hand built a lather that washed over her weary, but perfect body. “When we’re done in here it’s your choice on whether you leave or not. I’m not rushing you off.” I smiled for emphasis. “I usually build up a hell of a hunger so I’ll be making something to eat. Feel free to stick around. If you like.”

Finley Strong

 When Lorena had described what was supposed to transpire with Dez Dickerson, Finley had to admit, she had sort of unintentionally brushed it off as a sport fuck. Oh, Lorena went into great detail about his um, proficiencies. The tragic part was Finley switching on her selective hearing as Lo fawned over the greatness that is Dez. Yea, yea, tie her up, spank her tight little ass, and a roll around in the hay for some mid-day cardio. Nervous, yes. Questionable ability to meet his submissive expectations, absolutely. However, her incorrigible cockiness had, quite honestly, diluted her. How sadly mistaken she had been. So utterly naïve that it was almost laughable—in more ways than one. Because as their bodies moved together synchronically, feeding off each other like ravenous, visceral animals, grinding into one another with this tenacious tempo, one thing was unquestionably obvious. . .he had owned her unlike any one else had before. Plain and simple. Owned. “Come with me.” Her eyes heavy and glassy with desire peered up at him as if she had misheard. Three simple syllables was all it took, and, as if Dez had flipped a switch, Finley came crashing violently to a climax, crying out his name once more while aftershocks surged through her body in explosive waves. She leaned into his chest, her elbows bent over his shoulders pulling him hard against her as her fingernails dug into the sinew of his back, and drove her hips into his until she felt the warm rush of his release. Panting like a thoroughbred crossing the finish line at the Preakness, Finley rested her forehead on his collarbone planting wet lipped kisses into his hot, salty skin, the haze of an earth-shattering orgasm steadily set into her tingling fingertips. Finley descended into him as he walked them to the bathroom, her head bobbing slightly with each one of his steps as she relished the warmth of his body against hers. The cold granite revived her somewhat, heavy eyelids pressed together while he unwrapped her with almost delicate hands. The lulling hum of rushing water in the background creating this sort of serenity that she hadn’t expected. Gently, she was placed on her feet and turned to face the mirror. Even now, the slightest contact of his fingertips to her back prodding at her, apparently, insatiable appetite. Finley watched him, studying him, scribbling little notes about his mannerisms into her subconscious. What a fucking anomaly he was. A walking, talking, breathing Rubix Cube. A slight tug, and Finley was fully cognizant by the time the hot water rippled down her body. Silently, Finley let his soap lathered hands attempt to wash away some of the reminiscence of the this indescribable day. Smiling at his offer, Finley just simple shook her head in the negative and let her fingertips wander over his slippery skin, following every curve and edge of his arm beneath a cascading waterfall, basking in the afterglow of amazing sex and in how pleasantly surprised she was with him. In between musing over his remarkably perfect physique and the soapy playground for his hands, something in Finley snapped. Her fingers dropped from his arm, she stood curtly on her tip-toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips before stepping out of the shower, suds still dripping down her legs. “I hope this isn’t the last time I see you, Mr. Dickerson.” She said as she ran a towel quickly over her body, making it appoint for her eyes to meet his before her next sentence. “I had an amazing time.” Mind-blowing, mountain-moving, earthquake colliding with a tornado kind of amazing time, she was begging herself to say, but couldn’t pull herself to form the words. “Amazing.” She repeated, hoping that would provide him some sort of reassurance when her body language was screaming otherwise. What the fuck are you doing, Finley? Stop. But she couldn’t. With a nimble step out of the bathroom, she blew him a kiss, and trotted to the living room to gather her clothes. A few more seconds, and half-dressed Finley was almost out the door. Stop! This time listening to herself, and dashed to the kitchen, scouring the area for a pen and paper, finding only a crumpled up receipt on the counter. Taking her lipstick out of her handbag, she scribbled her name and number on the back of the receipt. How fucking cliché, Finley. Jesus Christ, could you be any more Cracker Jack? Why don’t you just hang your panties on his doorknob on your way out? As asinine as she felt, Finley couldn’t bare skipping out without leaving her number. At least some indication that she wanted what happened today to happen again. Perhaps it was the fact that he had shown her something life-altering today that freaked her out. He had so expertly pulled from her every possible emotion a person could ever feel in one afternoon. Without even knowing she was doing it, she had revealed parts of herself that she had sworn she locked away in some dank swampy corner of her subconscious. She told him she wanted to let go, and he had given her that. . .and so much more, most likely without even knowing that he had done so. Her body was still reeling from it and probably would be for the rest of the week. Dez fucking Dickerson, with his mysterious playroom and awe-inspiring cock. A smile crept over her lips as her red soles clicked against the concrete. It would be interesting to see just how long it would be before Fin was itching for his fix again. Soon. . .very soon.

Dez Dickerson

 I am a creature of habit. As with anything in my life I perform the role of dominant within a framework, rarely straying outside the box. She appears, I do my assessment of her, I provide what she came for, I take care of her after, I give the choice to leave on her terms. So mechanical in nature. Her and she is how it had always been, having placed that priority for as long as I could remember. A priority that was the definition of who I am, what I’d been taught and truthfully was all that I knew. Why deviate from a course that had thus far proven successful? Finley had opened my eyes. The way she picked up her things leaving silently into the night. The quiet retreat may have been her own version of creature of habit. I could only assume that being a madam she lived by the rule never get too close, this isn’t what we are about. Pleasure and pain was the name of the game, not some forced romantic illusion. Did it come as a shock upon entering my kitchen to find her name and number scribbled on the back of a receipt? Not at all. Finley Strong didn’t seem the type to go on a one time exploratory excursion to Dezville.  Would I call Ms. Strong again? I had an impetus to place myself into a new frontier, no longer setting the expectation for when and how a submissive would return. A direct beeline towards a new style, which I hoped would begin to redefine me, broadening my horizons and leaving the potential to open my eyes to what could be. Isn’t that what a journey of personal growth entails? As for Finley? Yes, I would call her again. There wasn’t a need to question that.

 ©DB/MP 2015

[arikatu-chan]

𝐏𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐎 ¡𝐕𝐢𝐯𝐚 𝐌𝐞́𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐨!

So I recently went to see this Pixar’s new movie and let me tell you something… 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞, 𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐢́𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢́𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐨𝐛𝐫𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞.

I’m not joking, really! My expectations went beyond what I thought (𝗅𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂́ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗂́𝖺𝗇). It was amazing in every way. Well, maybe I’m gonna make some spoilers, but I found myself in need of telling you my experience as a Mexican point of view.

Because yes, I’m proudly Mexican. (𝖳𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝖾́𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗈 𝗆𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇̃𝗈𝗅, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾)

1. ESTÁS MUY FLACO, ¡COME MÁS! 

This is funny. 

In each family, at least in mine, it is normal that your abuelita wants to feed you because, according to her, you are very thin (𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺́𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗌, ��𝗊𝗎𝖾́ 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺?). And this reminded me a lot of my grandmother, whom I sweetly called Yaya. And yes, she is a strong and humble woman who always fills my plate with lots of food. 

𝐋𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢 𝐘𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐫.

2. EL MARAVILLOSO AMBIENTE

There was no time to take my eyes off every scene, every color, every sound, literally. In the land of the living, the colors were relatively balanced, since it is a village, when dusk comes, which illuminates each house in a beautiful orange color. The colorful cemeteries and ofrendas captivated me greatly, for the passion with which we adorn the tombs of our departed is more than a tradition; is a connection that even Death itself can never take away.

𝗘𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼, 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮 𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘀 𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝘂𝘆 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗹𝗮 𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗮 𝗱𝗲 𝗻𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗽𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘀 𝘆 𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗮𝘀 𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗷𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮 𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘀, 𝗼 𝗽𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗮 𝗼𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗲𝗻 𝗻𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗼 𝘀𝗶́𝗺𝗯𝗼𝗹𝗼 𝗱𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘀 .

3. ¡MÚSICA MAESTRO!

My God, I can’t believe Disney has started its own theme with Mariachi music. 

A HUEVO, QUE PINCHE ORGULLO!!

That. was. Phenomenal. 

The rest of the film, when I started to hear the voices of each character singing, dancing or even playing guitar, I almost felt like jumping and singing, clapping and dancing. If anything you must be sure, is that when a Mexican hears that kind of music, mariachi, trumpets, violins, the shoe, the drums, gives him an infinite desire to be celebrating forever.

4. LA CHANCLA

La abuelita threatening everyone with la chancla. 

That’s typical of mexican family. No, seriously. Once my Yaya threw me la chancla voladora when I was little and I was running and they had yelled at me to stop. That could not be missing!

If you have never been threatened with la chancla, or much less have hit you with it, trust me, as a mexican you had no childhood.

5. LA LLORONA

Originally, the song La Llorona is sung by Chavela Vargas. If you have never heard of it, I strongly recommend that you do so. That was totally amazing! 

“Ay, de mí llorona. Llorona, de azul celeste. Ay, de mí llorona. Llorona, de azul celeste...”

“Y aunque me cueste la vida, llorona, no dejaré de quererte. Y aunque me cueste la vida, llorona, no dejaré de quererte...”

Miguel’s great-great-grandmother sang it with such sentiment made me shed tears, because I’ve heard it since I was a little girl. My grandmother sometimes sings it when she’s cooking.

6. AY, ERNESTO, NO TE RAJES

Yes, yes, YES!!!

I actually knew that Ernesto de la Cruz was inspired by Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete. OH, MY GOD! I love this man so much!

Maybe you can remember Jorge with the song Ay, Jalisco no te rajes! (From the movie The Tree Caballeros) There are other songs that I recommend you to hear. But my favorite has always been that.

Yo soy Mexicano, Mexico Lindo, Ella, Entre suspiro y suspiro, El Abandonado, and more…

7. ALEBRIJES

Actually, this was a very original idea that I loved. 

Alebrijes are imaginary beings made up of physiognomic elements of different animals, a combination of several animals, not only fantastic but also real. They’re handicrafts made with the technique of the cartonería, that they are painted with joyful colors and vibrant.

Alebrijes are one of the many wonders of Mexican art and a pride and the hallmark of Oaxaca. Having a alebrije or a collection of them at home is considered good luck and it is said that happiness will accompany anyone who owns one of these works of art. In addition, owning a alebrije is to possess the best of Mexican art, so vast, so colorful, so full of life and a beauty recognized internationally.

8. LA FAMILIA ES PRIMERO

Even though The Book of Life is also another of my favorite movies, something made me even love more Coco than this. 

Family.

It may sound a little... cliché, but for me the family has always been the most important thing. In fact, I quite identified with Miguel’s family. I could see in my own flesh not only my grandmother, but my uncles, my cousins and my other relatives. We don’t live in one house, we live in different places.

Traditionally my grandfathers are doctors, and they wanted my mother to be a doctor, but she preferred to study theater just as my father studied music. And there could be no doubt that her own daughter would also want to be an artist.

When I first went to Europe to visit the Universities, my grandmother, who repudiated the idea of being an artist, came to me one day and said to me: “It’s your life, you decide what you want and what you choose will be always good for me.”

The love of the family is so different and so unique, that to a certain point it made me realize that I do not need love of a couple if I have people that I can always talk to and who can support me too.

9. RECUÉRDAME

This song was definitely the best of the best. Full of feelings, full of dedication, I should applaud the effort for composers, I haven’t had the privilege of hearing it in English, but I think you should also listen to it in Spanish, and I say it because the song sounds infinitely cool. and with the voice of the characters, made my skin prickly and shed more tears.

“Hasta que en mis brazos tú estés... Recuérdame...”

10. MAMÁ COCO

This, without a doubt, is my favorite. The entire character of mama Coco.

She may not appear more than some scenes from the entire film, but she is a very important and very captivating character. The relationship she has with Miguel is very special, an old mind woman and a big-hearted young child, the love of grandparents or great-grandparents is so strong and has no limits…

I have lived with my great-grandparents since I was two years old, and I loved them with all my heart just like them to me.

They are no longer with me…

But that does not mean that I have forgotten them. I remember them every day, every moment, when I least expect it, I sometimes dream about them. Sometimes I ask my grandparents how they were as young people, and I could imagine their lives in black and white films, where they wore dresses and suits.

The times of my great-grandfathers were hard, but were also beautiful, they enjoyed their entire life and were happy. Mama Coco was able to leave the world knowing that her father loved her and sang for the last time. Recuérdame with her great-grandchild.

What a beautiful scene, so simple, so lovely, that speaks for much.

Believe it or not, I loved Coco more than The Book of Life.

But I don’t think there has to be some anger cause somehow they seem to be something in como. For God’s sake, they do NOT seem at all, at least of the plot. 

Is more than obvious that the producers and the cast made a mega effort to make the film an original work, and yes, it is original, cause there were so many unexpected twists, plus that, again, made me cry.

Don’t hate Coco, really, the movie is worth seeing, and it is such a beautiful and so cute way of putting the family theme. 

The Book of Life talked about fear in being yourself: there is nothing wrong of being yourself and always follow your heart, while Coco talks about that it is okay to follow your dreams, but also think about your family, think about something that goes more beyond your expectations, but what you choose will always have the support of your family.

Two films focusing on Mexico, focusing on El Dia de los Muertos, two films that use direct themes, but that somehow made me realize what Life is like.

So, go ahead, Vive tu momento.

[four-network]

Fine Drinking en México y América Latina.

Save the day por que del 26 al 30 agosto se llevará a cabo este evento donde se verán las últimas tendencias de coctelería, los mejores destilados súper premium: whiskies, rones, sakes, piscos, destilados mexicanos entre otros, vinos y cervezas artesanales, cocktail tours, cenas maridaje y más.

Esta edición eligió una sede que se describe como un escenario irrepetible y aliado de la filosofía de este evento, el ambiente creado por encontrarse entre las líneas de la vid los campos de lavanda y olivos hacen de este lugar un espacio mágico.

Viñedo San Lucas es un proyecto sustentado en la producción de vino de alta calidad con once variedades diferentes de uva para vinificar, producción de aceite de oliva virgen y aceite esencial de lavanda con sus derivados. La propiedad tiene una extensión aproximada de 99 hectáreas además de contar con hotel boutique, restaurantes y cancha de polo.

Para cualquier persona que no perteneciera a esta industria era imposible asistir a este magno evento, sin embargo este año han decidido ofrecer accesos para que el público aficionado pueda asistir.

En esta la sexta edición de Barra México se contará con una serie de pláticas a cargo de distintos expertos de la industria, con la finalidad tanto de educar como de fomentar el consumo responsable de bebidas alcohólicas.

Los seminaristas que estarán el día 27 de Agosto serán: Mailen Obon encabeza la Dirección Enológica y Enoturística del grupo de Viñedos de La Santísima Trinidad , Agustín Balegno Co-owner de Brindisi Bar de Cócteles, educador y formador de bartenders y por último Fabiola Padilla fundadora de BEKEB propuesta de mixología de este rooftop bar es ideal para los entusiastas del aperitivo.

Los seminaristas el día 28 de Agosto serán Berta González fundadora y CEO de Tequila Casa Dragones, Sandra Vázquez Cofundadora y Directora General de Levain & Co., grupo al que pertenecen Dos Casa Hotel & Spa y Casa de los Olivos Hotel Boutique y por último pero no menos importante Audrey Hands quien colabora como Embajadora de Marca Global para Havana Club International, con sede en Canadá y trabaja en colaboración con los cantineros cubanos representando Havana Club.

Para el día solo para profesionales estarán Peter Sánchez CO-Funder de We Are Bartenders y Bar Manager en ARCA Tulum, Roberto Berdecia Fundó la barra La Factoría en Viejo San Juan, Estefanía Ortíz y Claudia Cabrera, Liz Furlong Liz es fundadora de La Sociedad del Cóctel; Eric Van Beek Ganador Global de Bacardi Legacy en 2018; Inés de los Santos fundó Bardo; Álvaro García ha liderado al equipo de Fifty Mils y por último Mica Rousseau ganador del World Class en 2016.

Para quienes no conozcan deben de saber que Barra México es un proyecto comprometido con el medio ambiente, son el primer bar show Carbono Negativo, más comúnmente conocido como Climate Positive en el mundo. Todas las emisiones generadas por la producción, transporte de asistentes, así como expositores son reducidos, cuantificados y sobre compensadas a través de la compra de certificados de captura de carbono destinados a la protección de bosques en Oaxaca con Pronatura a través de la iniciativa Neutralízate. Durante cada edición la cristalería de todo el evento es lavada con un innovador sistema que nos permite ahorrar más de 30 mil litros de agua sin electricidad, con jabón biodegradable desinfectante.

[missmaridajes]

Samy Ali Rando, obtuvo una estrella bien merecida en Candela Restó, hoy se encuentra en el mercado de Anton Martín @doppelganger.samy con su cocina fusión, con guiños mexicanos y orientales. Taco crunchy de tartar de gamba, sopa udòn de ñora con coliflor y yema de huevo, espectacular! Bitteraweet pig de cerdo agridulce, tamal con rabo de toro y aceitunas, lentejas con puerro encurtido, donut de posos de sake, nori y chocolate blanco, brutal y candy eléctrico Acompañado de vinos naturales y cervezas artesanales. -- Samy Ali Rando, obtained a well-deserved star in Candela Restó, today he is in the Anton Martín market @ doppelganger.samy with his fusion cuisine, with Mexican and oriental nods. Crunchy taco of shrimp tartare, udòn de Señora soup with cauliflower and egg yolk, spectacular! Bitteraweet pig of sweet and sour pork, tamale with oxtail and olives, lentils with pickled leek, donut with sake grounds, nori and white chocolate, brutal and electric candy Accompanied by natural wines and craft beers. - #mismaridajes #pairings #madrid #cocinafusion #madridmola #visitmadrid #delicious #instafoodie #followme #blogger #foodaddict (en Doppelgänger Bar Madrid) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNXTWPwLZb0/?igshid=1mqdcjb8qziu

[kitommy]

< 𝗝𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗟 / 𝟭𝟰𝟬𝟮𝟮𝟭 >

CONTENT WARNING: a ideia do texto abaixo é um exercício terapêutico para o personagem. se trata da um diário eletrônico, sendo então uma narração sob o ponto de vista dele. o texto contém trechos envolvendo lembranças do passado de Thomas, este que envolve um relacionamento ruim com os pais, infidelidade conjugal, perdas de entes queridos, pensamentos um tanto depressivos. Por se tratar de uma narração em primeira pessoa, há uma maior e mais pessoal descrição de sentimentos e emoções.

Eu não lembro a última vez que parei para escrever aqui. Uma semana, talvez? Ou meses? É que o tempo parece passar um tanto diferente para mim há… um tempo. Tenho me perdido nele, especialmente pois tenho me perdido em e de mim.

Estou escrevendo de um avião, no trajeto de volta para casa. Eu preciso aceitar isso: GAEM é minha casa, no sentido mais literal da coisa. Não me pergunte, porém, se é também meu lar. Isso é diferente; eu acho que mais tem a ver com pessoas. E nesse caso… Apesar de agora incerto, acho que tenho lá um pedaço do que poderia ser lar e estou falando daqueles que deixam a tarefa de viver um pouco mais fácil, ou melhor, que me dão energia para tentar descomplicar minha missão nessa vida.

For the sake of living, gosto de pensar que há alguma missão. Uma; várias… Todas sendo eu quem escolho, porque não acredito em Deus ou deuses. Acredito, no entanto, em energias e naquelas outras paradas de fluxo e foco. Porque eu acredito que a gente precisa acreditar em alguma coisa.

< Notei que pessoas com fé em algo parecem voltar ao eixo mais fácil. Infelizmente, acho que em algum momento acabei esquecendo disso. Deve ter sido quando eu me perdi de mim, em mim, e embora eu pudesse jurar que isso tivesse rolado uns dias atrás, descobri que vem acontecendo há anos. >

Começo da história: fui para Bali; estava em Bali.

Não me olha assim, ok? Eu tinha uma grana limitada que coloquei para mim mesmo no momento que decidi ir. Não fui para Bali para ser parte daquelas fotos paradisíacas e que minha mãe adoraria estar – e que não a julgo, porque eu adoraria estar também, é só que não era o momento para isso. Fui para Bali para me encontrar e todo esse papo de jornada espiritual. < Vamos fingir que eu nunca disse isso, porque sinto que não estou cooperando para a imagem da galera de Sociologia. >

Foram dois dias rápidos demais, mas o suficiente para um começo.

Eu fiquei em um hostel, em uma beliche dividida com um cara do México que falava enquanto dormia. Infelizmente, meu conhecimento em espanhol era suficiente para entender somente algumas palavras. Acredite em mim quando eu digo que eu preferia ter entendido um total de nada, porque o que eu pude juntar com o que consegui traduzir, me perturbou o resto da primeira noite. Felizmente, eu não devo ter sido o único, porque tenho certeza que o que o alemão da cama da frente estava tentando fazer era se comunicar visualmente e dizer algo do tipo: “vamos fingir que isso nunca aconteceu, confia”. < E eu confiei, ele parecia ser experiente com pessoas que falam enquanto dormem >.

O hostel era um lugar… incrível. Daquele que tu entra e consegue sentir uma atmosfera confortável, boa. Daquele que até parece que finalmente tu está em casa (dessa vez, no sentido mais figurativo da coisa), com uma família grande demais e perturbada também, mas legal assim mesmo. Uma família cuja medicina usada é a Ayurveda e isso é algo importante a se falar, porque no fim estavam todos ali para aquilo; para aquele tipo de tratamento.

Ayuverda é um tipo de medicina, sabe? Que procura pelo balanço do corpo e mente. Mas o que realmente aprendi com Ayuverda é que a gente não pode entrar nas palavras ordem e balanço sem entender nosso problema. Foi nisso que descobri que entre os três tipos de dashas, eu ando bastante pelo Vata – e isso quer dizer até o que eu deveria ou não comer.

Confuso? Tudo bem. Não vou entrar fundo nisso, de qualquer maneira, porque não é sobre essa parte que quero falar. A experiência lá mais teve a ver com… o que vinha acontecendo comigo, ou melhor, o quê que havia acontecido fez comigo.

Eu meditei pela primeira vez. Tipo, eu já havia tentado antes, mas todo o papo de deixar a mente vazia me fazia falhar. Lá, porém, aprendi que se começa com o contrário mesmo: eu deveria deixar todos os meus pensamentos fluírem.

Me deram uma missão: reviver minha vida. < O que minha cabeça traduziu assim: fazer de toda a porra dos meus vinte e alguma coisinha anos de vida, um filme que só concorreria para os piores filmes da história >. Eu deveria fazer isso de forma cronológica e sem me impedir de sentir seja lá o que essas lembranças pudesse fazer borbulhar em mim. Raiva, tristeza, felicidade… Eu deveria deixar meu corpo reagir naturalmente, sem me segurar. Em outras palavras, eu literalmente ri e chorei na frente de mexicanos, alemães, argentinos, filipinos e sabe-se lá mais quem.

Eu ri com minha primeira lembrança, onde eu acho que tinha cinco anos e quebrei meu braço pela primeira vez. Eu senti raiva de mim quando a segunda lembrança foi a de meu irmão mais novo se machucando por minha causa. Eu senti tristeza com a memória do meu primeiro gato, que morreu. Eu senti medo, raiva e tristeza quando, inevitavelmente, lembrei do dia que descobri da traição de meu pai e como aquela era e seria só a primeira de muitas; ou de quando descobri que minha mãe sabia, mas dizia que o dinheiro a fazia mais feliz e que eu deveria rever meus amigos, porque eles não pareciam ser pessoas muito (HÁ!) confiáveis (leia: não tinham os mesmos zeros que a gente na conta bancária).

Eu lembrei de quando eu quis machucar meus pais. Lembrei de quando eu descobri que eles não me queriam mais ali. Lembrei de quando entendi pela primeira vez que estava sozinho, em um país completamente diferente. Lembrei do meu primeiro ataque de pânico. Lembrei da minha primeira manhã acordado por ansiedade. Lembrei do primeiro remédio não prescrito e de, dois anos depois, a droga que mudou tudo. Eu chorei de fazer barulho, ridículo assim.

Lembrei das pessoas que deixei ir, porque elas nunca me fizeram sentir a paz que eu queria.

Lembrei de quando senti pela primeira vez todo o corpo doer por eu simplesmente querer ir ao banheiro.

Lembrei da primeira vez que conclui, dentro de mim, que eu estava sozinho e sempre estive sozinho.

Lembrei de quando acordei com o som de máquinas marcando o ritmo do meu coração. De como eu pedia pela morte naqueles meses na reabilitação, e nos meses fora também.

Lembrei de todas as vezes em que perdi algo – e lembrei de quando eu soube que havia perdido alguém para sempre. Não é fodido que tenha sido preciso isso para eu descobrir que eu conseguia sentir algo ou chorar o suficiente para fazer uma piscina?

E aí, eu lembrei de todas as vezes em que eu deveria ter falado eu te amo, mas que não consegui pois nunca ouvi nem mesmo dos meus pais – nenhum trocado entre eles, ou direcionado para mim ou meus irmãos.

Eu lembrei e lembrei, quando na verdade acho que minha alma nunca realmente havia esquecido. Meu subconsciente que deve ter escondido do meu consciente para me proteger ou algo assim.

Fiquei sentado de frente para uma árvore por uma hora < que pareceu ter sido dez minutos >. Acho estranho dizer que meditei e viajei para dentro de mim, porque soa legal demais, erudito até, para alguém estupido e pequeno como eu. Ao mesmo tempo, não é como se eu tivesse feito muita coisa – foi só uma retrospectiva que fez doer o coração e a alma. Nada demais < por favor, note a ironia >.

Quando eu disse que os dois dias tinham sido o suficiente para um começo, eu mais quis dizer que eu entendi que o que preciso é de mais paciência e um pouco mais de carinho comigo. Às vezes, a gente não entende a dor que sentimos, porque o motivo está escondido no nosso subconsciente, então, às vezes, seja lá o que acontece com a gente e como reagimos a isso não tem muito a ver com esse ocorrido em si.

No outro dia, eu consegui acordar acreditando em alguma coisa novamente.

Acho que isso dá por hoje e pelos dias que não escrevi, né? Claro que sim, porque eu quem decido o que escrever aqui. O diário e a terapia são meus e para mim.

Quem sabe na próxima eu ofereça algo que faça mais sentido ou que pelo menos tenha menos cara de quem não sabe mais o que escrever e por isso vai interromper assim mesmo, sem uma boa conclusão. Na verdade, sequer preciso dar uma conclusão, porque não é como se essa fosse a última página deste diário.

E quer saber? Eu posso terminar falando sobre o macarrão que serviram no avião e não me aprofundar nisso e só isso.

Acabou.

[gabe14limbs]

bRUH have you seen the trailer for a movie called Marcianos Vs Mexicanos??? super good, cartoony 2D animation - and, if the title didn't tip you off, it's Mexican :o I could very easily believe you worked on it and it just didn't come up because you legally weren't allowed to talk about it lol

OHHH BOI??? actually no, didnt hear of it! heck I wish I worked on it, i would be sooo proud! Actually im quite proud anyway cuz the animation looks so good for mexican standards holy crap! i dont know what to expect tbh but if it shows up on theaters im definitely watching it for the sake of mexican animation!!not sure if it was animated here tho… i think Huevocartoon wasn’t. o8 BUT STILL. MEXICAN CARTOONS FTW!

[isaiahpiche-blog]

Testimonio

Liberty

This land was Mexican once

Was indian always

And is

And will be again.

-Gloria Anzaldua

Four lines speaks volumes to decolonization. The late and great Anzaldua provides us with instructions on how to autonomously begin the process. I have to start with the beginning, my beginning, in order to illustrate why I belong in the Chicano studies program. I have to reclaim my life and tell it in my voice. However, my story is a piece of a perplexing puzzle. So to not recognize how I came to be would be erasing the struggle my family endured.

My mother was born in Michoacán, Mexico. At the age of 12, she, my grandmother (my cousins and I endearingly call Tia. The origin of how we started calling her Tia remains a mystery. Nevertheless, that is the title she claims, and we were taught no other way. Let alone she can pass as one of my aunts), her four siblings, and my deceased estranged grandfather, made the pilgrimage to the United States. I can only speculate why my mother's family immigrated- could have been because of NAFTA; however my Tia is of means. She owns properties both in Mexico and the U.S. - no one talks about the experience and it seems taboo. As for my deceased grandfather, I am glad I never knew the man. My mother says he was abusive.

My father was born in Ciudad Delgado, El Salvador. Shortly after he was born, my Abuelita set off on her own to the United States to seek a "better life." I have obtained vast insight from my Abuelita, as she answers almost all of my questions about her experience (I feel like her therapist at times. I have observed how cathartic it is for her to share her perils and triumphs. She will laugh, cringe, and cry when re-telling. Though emotionally taxing, and since my Abuelito passed away in 2009, she needs an ear more than ever). My Abuelita recalls that there was only enough money to voyage on her own. Her plan was to save enough money to cross her family of 7 over into the U.S. - including my Abuelito. "Ni me preguntes adonde dormir cuando entre en el principio" says warns with a blush of embarrassment. And we, my cousins and I, respect her privacy. She crossed her entire family by the time my father turned 2. Two years of hustling, two years of avoiding raids from "la migra," two years of suffering implicit and explicit violence from white people, and my strong abuelita accomplished her goal.

Two ethnic words clash

Mexicanos y Salvadorenios can only be friends

Nunca familia

Colorism fustigated my Tia's disdain

Mi Abuelita expected a white woman

The product of forbidden love were two beautiful offspring

I was born in East Los Angeles at White Memorial Hospital. Saying my birth was tumultuous is an understatement. My mother was in extreme pain, was not dilating, and kept passing out. My father was in rage, and my Tia and Abuelita were equally worried. My grandmothers are polar opposites - externally and internationally. My mother's mother is fair-skinned, with eyes that morph into various shades of hazel and green. She maintains her beauty and does not look her age, or says it (another one of secrets). She is also a baptized Jehovah's Witness. My father's mother has the skin-tone of rich coconut. Her many surgeries have tolled her. She is semi-dependent and I can tell she misses her independence, and my Abuelito. I do, too. Despite their differences, at their core, I see the same woman fighting her colonizer, fighting for her family, and resisting however she could. And that same woman sensed something troubling as I was trying to enter the world. To be honest, my mother and I almost lost our lives. The result of my botched birth is my disability, which is cerebral palsy. Therefore, I was ascribed an identity in utero.

Though ascribed

My identity is my own

I have multiple identities

They are all my own.

Intersectionality is a reoccurring theme in multiple disciplines, and it is an important concept for Chicano Studies. Exploring my own identities provides me with a blue print of my essential self. I have to consider both nature and nurture.

I was raised predominantly by women. And the men who helped raise me did not hinder my creative self, though, I did raise my eyebrows.

He started rocking on his heels as a baby

Hardly sanctioned

The matriarchs nurtured his femininity.

I realized I had to present myself in a certain way for the sake of navigating dominant society, which is already constricting. I am gay. This part of my identity tends to lead me towards a mental game of tug-of-war. Before I came out at the age of 21, my sexual orientation was the "best known secret" on both sides of my family. Growing up my mother, Tia, and Abuelita used to let play in their high-heels. I would wear pillow cases on my head pretending it was hair. My sister - who is 11 months my junior. We joke that we are Irish Twins - and I used to play a game called "Sister, Sister" as we played with barbies. I was also the boy, however, who played with dinosaurs, X-Men action figures, and the latest game consoles. Studies show that, among twins, about fifty percent are both homosexuals and/or of a different sexual orientation. This statistic make the nature versus nurture debate ambiguous. Anzaldua herself explicitly states she chose to be a lesbian. And many second wave feminists made this choice, as well. My point being, yes, I constantly question my sexual orientation. I do wonder what it would be like to date a woman. I wonder what aspects of my upbringing contributed to my affinity for men. NI also wonder if my life would be easier. Alas, my attraction for the male anatomy is solidified.

I have chosen to highlight only a few facets of my identity. I, moreover, shared some of my family's history to create a foundation that, in my humble opinion, makes me a productive candidate for the Chicano Studies program. I identify as Latinx/o. Before I explain the "o" in my ethnic identity, I need to ensure that I did not prioritize or rank the many layers of my whole self. My intention is to demonstrate what dominant society sees before they acknowledge my humanity. For the most part, on applications and the like, I identify as a male - hence why I add the "o" in Latino. However, I identify as male to kick patriarchy, toxic masculinity, and sexism in the metaphorical nuts. I am everything a white, able-bodied, heterosexual man hates. And I pride myself in the evil face of oppression.

He is sure of himself

He bares many anxieties which probably manifest

He loves himself but hates himself

Duck!

He is La Frontera

His name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

Chicano Studies can be a a gateway towards liberation. The in between spaces, the Borderlands, maintains the survival of minorities like myself. Dominant society needs to actualize issues advocated for centuries. The power is within us all. Tolerate my ambiguity, and I will be willing to negotiate.

My name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

#testimonio #LaChicana #CHST148

[mictlangoldmansworld]

#sake mexicano https://www.instagram.com/p/BzEsxfaBhU1/?igshid=dulzqo6uv3bv

[ocioenlinea]

Explosión de sabores y mucha vitalidad

La fusión de sabores orientales e ingredientes veganos promete toda una experiencia única

Existen muchos mitos acerca de la alimentación vegana, en especial lo que se refiere a la variedad de platillos que pueden disfrutarse cuando se opta por este estilo de vida. Ante la necesidad de variedad y amplitud, Aura y Luis tomaron decidieron crear un concepto totalmente desafiante: un espacio vegano con platillos orientales, los cuales en sus versiones regulares suelen llevar varios productos animales como caldo de pescado.

Bajo la asesoría de un chef especializado, la pareja logró darle forma al menú de Uke Mochi, nombrado así en honor a la diosa de los alimentos y la vitalidad. En este lugar encontrarás una interesante fusión de la gastronomía oriental, más concretamente de Tailandia, Japón y China, de manera que degustarás tanto sushi como rollos primavera y pad thai, todo esto sin ningún producto de origen animal y porciones balanceadas entre vegetales, cereales y proteína vegetal que te darán toda la energía que necesitas; aunque también hay espacio para los antojitos como los bastones de camote.

Este concepto ya cumplió su primer aniversario y ha sido del gusto tanto de veganos como no-veganos. Quizás, parte de su aceptación tiene que ver con el hecho de que ellos mismos fabrican salsas y toppings exclusivos del restaurante, lo que le da una firma personal a los platillos. Nosotros probamos un irresistible Pad Thai con cacahuate encima, pasta consistente y una explosión de sabores entre las especias y los vegetales; un curry especiado que amamos desde el primer bocado y unos edamames suaves hechos al wok con salsa de la casa.

En cuanto a bebida, las opciones son interesantes ya que cuentan con bebidas alcohólicas asiáticas como la cerveza Lucky Budha y nacionales como Nami, el primer sake mexicano. Del lado de las bebidas sin alcohol, cuentan con sodas italianas, cafés y también una variedad de tés por parte de su proyecto hermano Darjeeling. Incluso aunque no seas vegano, si te gusta descubrir nuevos sabores y disfrutar de tu comida en un ambiente relajado y amigable, sin duda encontrarás una mesa en Uke Mochi para ti.

UKE MOCHI

H: L - J de 15:00 a 23:00 h. V y S de 15:00 a 0:00 h.

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[missmaridajes]

Tazón de arroz con salmón, hamachi, masaho, aguacate, pepino, cebollín, sésamo con aderezo moshi de chipotle sobre arroz shari. Acompañada de sake mexicano @nami.sake @moshimoshimx -- Bowl of rice with salmon, hamachi, masaho, avocado, cucumber, chives, sesame with chipotle moshi dressing on shari rice. Accompanied by Mexican sake @nami.sake @moshimoshimx -- #mismaridajes #lovesushi #sushilover #sushi #travelling #mexicolindo #visitmexico #mexico #gastrophoto (en Moshi Moshi) https://www.instagram.com/p/BwuoBz3Hs43/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=lovjibc72i5g

[boletindeconfianza-blog]

Coca-Cola prepara su primer refresco con alcohol en 130 años de historia

Coca-Cola lanzará este 2018 la primera bebida con alcohol en los más de 130 años de historia de la compañía. La nueva lata se venderá en Japón, según ha anunciado Jorge Garduño, presidente de la unidad comercial en el país nipón y hasta hace un año director general de Coca-Cola Iberia. "Se trata de una categoría conocida en Japón como Chu-Hi", explica Garduño en una publicación corporativa. "Es una bebida enlatada que incluye alcohol. Tradicionalmente, está hecha con una bebida destilada llamada shōchū y agua con gas, además de algunos aromatizantes". El shōchū tiene una graduación alcohólica cercana al 25%, comúnmente destilada de cebada, batata o arroz, de forma que es más débil que el whisky o el vodka y más fuerte que el vino o el sake.

El directivo asegura que esta bebida con alcohol será "única" en la historia de la compañía, cuyos productos salieron al mercado en

 1886, ya que Coca-Cola siempre se ha centrado en bebidas no alcohólicas. A pesar de ello, lo califica como un "experimento modesto para una porción específica" del mercado de la

compañía. "La categoría Chu-Hi se encuentra casi exclusivamente en Japón (...) pero no creo que en el resto del mundo se espere ver este tipo de productos de Coca-Cola", ha añadido en la entrevista corporativa. 

Garduño, al frente del negocio japonés desde julio del año pasado, ha incluido la bebida con alcohol dentro del catálogo de nuevos productos con los que quieren innovar y que saldrán al mercado en breve. "No hemos experimentado anteriormente en la categoría de bajo contenido de alcohol, pero es un ejemplo de cómo seguimos explorando oportunidades fuera de nuestras áreas centrales", asegura el directivo mexicano.

Durante décadas, la comercialización de Coca-Cola en Japón se ha destacado como un mercado casi único por la gran variedad de opciones de bebidas que se ofrecen. Solo en 2016, la compañía  lanzó 100 nuevos productos, algunos eran marcas nuevas y otras variaciones de los más populares

En Japón, Coca-Cola ya innova con otros nuevos sabores, como el de la marca de té Ayataka. "Crea una nueva opción para los consumidores que prefieren el sabor ligero y desean disfrutar de la

   riqueza del té verde", explica el directivo. En la categoría espumosa, también presentarán The Tansan, una bebida con la carbonatación más fuerte que existe en el país, ideada para "los amantes de los espumosos adultos conscientes de la salud", según la compañía estadounidense.

Las bebidas bajas en azúcar o sin azúcares añadidos representan el 62% de la oferta de Coca-Cola en Japón, y supusieron el 92% del crecimiento de su volumen de unidades en 2016, según datos de la compañía. Además de bebidas carbonatadas, que representaron el 25% de las ventas en Japón en 2016, comercializa otras como té, agua embotellada, bebidas para deportistas o café.

Entre la inmensa variedad hay una variante de bebidas llamada Foshu, que significa alimentos específicos para usos de salud, y que cuentan con certificado del Gobierno de que son beneficiosos para la salud. Entre ellas, está, por ejemplo, la Coca-Cola con fibra, comercializada como Coca-Cola Plus, un Aquarius con 1.000 mg de vitamina C, o Galcau sleepwater, una bebida con L-teanina, un aminoácido al que se atribuyen propiedades para reducir la ansiedad e inducir al sueño.”

“El País (2018) Recuperado el 7 de marzo de 2018 https://elpais.com/economia/2018/03/07/actualidad/1520408320_489966.html Coca-Cola prepara su primera bebida con alcohol en sus 130 años de historia”

[iamcarlosveliz]

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