Sexuality Loading

very rare photo of Sharon Stone, probably from an official promo photo shoot, during the time of Basic Instinct.

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

It was almost as if I had been preparing for these two weeks, where I would not have time for my creativity.
The last time we spoke it felt overwhelming. Like I was not up for it, and that I had somehow made, I don’t know, some kind of “planning mistake” or something?
But the truth was, that I had done everything right.
It was as if part of me had known months in advance, this was coming.
Or maybe the correct way to see and say it is;
It wasn’t these two weeks, as some sort of solo event.
The last two weeks were the most visible and most recent part of a way longer time period, starting at the beginning of this year, where I no longer just sit behind my desk and write for however long I want.
Where other obligations seem more important -and from a money making perspective are more important!- and together with the daily outdoor exercise which I ve been consistent at for half a year or so;
Little time is left for writing. 
Even less if I also want to publish my books.
When I was a yoga teacher I used to write all day, and then rush to get showered, eat and get to class.
I did not do any exercise aside commuting (on my bicycle), I did not see daylight from like October to February, and I probably needed those yoga classes more than anyone else;
But boy did I write.
I’m publishing my books, and as you know the number of blog posts under this name and my real name, is daunting.
I received the test copies from the first two books!
“The Mistress Speaks” and my book about Basic Instinct/ Catherine Tramell “The Beach, C.”
I have to correct/ improve them, which I ll prioritize. I hope to have the new test copies ordered before the end of the week.
So the bad news is that although those two weeks I was making such a fuss about, have ended;
I find myself still not having time to write.

But the two weeks went by fine.
Not just because they were far less out-of-the-ordinary as I had assumed they were.
But I also had the vision board card deck with the laminated cards, which I set up last summer but I ve been tweaking and updating it ever since and keep rearranging it, keeping spares for that moment in my drawer.
Next to these cards I found reminders of my goals and dreams, in my notebooks.
And to top it all off, I encountered a very explicit tab on the browser of my phone. Every time I went by them all to see if I could close a few tabs, I would see this one and smile!
I remembered setting this open tab up in February, March at the latest, being very deliberate in my actions.  I knew the explicit content would be a nessecary reminder that I was a sexual being.
Regardless of whatever scatterbrain state I would be in, the moment I mindlessly browsed over my tabs to shut them.
So the two weeks were better than I expected, because the shock was not as strong as I feared, and because I had Lauren’s Past Self having set up reminders for current day me.
“Hold the course.”
“You re sexual.”
And “Ps: here’s a photo of Jon Bon Jovi in the 80s. Yeah I thought you needed that.”
Another very positive aspect which I had not seen coming, was that I had sex too!
Not the perfectly orchestrated best sex of my life – date, we had in February.
But a really nice quickie, that felt so good. Maybe because it was not anticipated, and also because it was the kind of sex you can only have if you know each other very well. 
Because we are not a couple, and because of the hiatus we had last year, those moments when something happens that kind of “reveals” what’s underneath, are so special. 
And the sex was very welcome. Even when it was at a moment when I could not process or relive it by writing about it. I could not magnify it, in any way.
It was normal, grounded sex. That together with all the notes in my journals, and together with already being in the habit of writing less, got me through. 
As much as all this was good news, it did also point to a problem that I had unconsciously been aware of (hence: the reminders to myself) but that I had not tackled.
After “fruitless 2020” I knew that if I kept writing, and/or kept creating videos for my work under my real name, my books would not get published. So I had prioritized publishing.
But by now it was also clear that the opposite was also true:
When I was publishing I did not write
With over 600 blog posts on both of my accounts, publishing my books is not a sprint activity.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought I could muscle through a couple of months prioritizing the books, the publishing, and that the problem would then be solved..
Because publishing will never be done.
It’s like a marathon with no end.
And I have to find a way to bring my sexuality = creativity = writing, back into my days!
It’s all well and good that I m now publishing my books, getting daylight and exercise and doing yoga every now and then. And some would even say it’s a sign of maturity that I can have sex without needing to bury myself in my writing immediately after.
But I’m not saying that.
And to me it’s not well and good.
Needing a sexually explicit tab open on your phone browser because you’re afraid you’ll forget who you are below the belt, is a sign of spiritual and sexual poverty.
A sign that writing needs to come back on the menu sooner rather than later.


An unexamined life is not worth living



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The Sex & Relationship Secrets That Took Me 14 Years To Uncover | from the archives

The Witcher

I’m currently publishing my books, the first two are finished. I have ordered test copies.
One of the surprises it brought me, going through my archives, was finding this “draft”, written July last year.
Except it isn’t a draft, it is a complete blog post.
Perhaps it stayed unpublished because it struck me as too personal at the time…

Here it is, nine months later.

20 April 2020

The Sex & Relationship Secrets That Took Me 14 Years To Uncover

written at 23 July, 2020

It wasn’t until episode 3 of The Witcher, where the deformed stubborn magic apprentice Yennefer dumps her betraying lover, bypasses the wishes of the magic council, and arranges her own physical transformation with the sorcerer who is in charge of all the magical makeovers, and comes out ravishing and ready to rule, on the other side, that I could finally see my place in this world.

That I could make my peace with having been on a way too long journey, with way too little to show for, of discovering my own sexuality and relationship style.
Although back then in 2006 I thought I would end with wanting my then current relationship back.

That my journey would most likely go round in a circle.

So did I really want to risk losing it all, for the voice in my head that said:
“This isn’t you.” ?

The truth is of course, that I did.

We broke up in October 2006, after 14 years. But from April on, that year, I was already accompanied by my new companion; Writing.
It was as if the voice of God, the voice of The Muse, the voice of destiny had all come to me in the same voice:
My own.

First the voice came in the shape of my old diaries I found in the attic. To this day that story is my bio on my sales page. 
Then the voice became my first writing, and almost immediately I took on a pseudonym.

I rationalized the pseudonym with needing the privacy. I was a yoga teacher and didn’t want to discuss my personal writing in class.
I needed two separate identities.

But with the decision being almost immediately – far before I had a website, posted to social media and so on – was it really a rational choice?
Or was LS Harteveld, from the get go, the real me?

I think what I have experienced the last three years and why this site/ my writing/ and basically everything in my life has been so messy, was a deep mourning sparked by people leaving, my sweet pet dying.
Things shifting – in particular in the relationship with my former lover Mr.Big. He broke up with me in December. (2019) But I really date that first shift back to late 2017, early 2018.
That’s when something changed.

And I m sure I m forgetting other factors as well- 
But they all resulted in me trying everything for three years to “make things right”.
When I know now:
They are never going to be “right”.

My 14 year journey on a quest for sexuality and relationship styles that do suit me;
It has no happy ending.

What I want, or perhaps “What I am”, she has no happy endings.

Not because I am not deserving of them, but because what I am is so rare, although many say it is common.
Many say that the softporn movie for which I actually joined Netflix for the first time, “365 Days”, as well as another female-gets-conquered-by-domineering-man saga, “50 Shades” can be explained by what “I” have, to be extremely common.
If all women want what I want, and they project that onto that movie which is why they are so popular, then all women want a dominant.

But fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, the sex and relationship I wanted or needed or desired, was a bit more complicated than that. 

So, what is it I discovered in those 14 years?
What is this illusive, strange, 50 Shades, 365 Days, Might be Common After All dynamic that I require with a man, that explains;
– why it took me 14 effin’ years to figure this shit out
– why I have instinctively wanted to stop writing under this strong, candid, Reality-Creating-By-Pen account of LS Harteveld, so often…
I can’t even promise it will never happen again, that’s how much this account conflicts with what I would want from a man!
– why all men with whom I ve had fantastic sex with – with the exception of the man I had a 14 year long relationship with, but all others – did not choose for me, and left me for other women as if it was the most logical, sensible thing in the world that of course I was not chosen.
– And what is this illusive, strange dynamic that I require with a man that they were probably right, when they thought it was the most logical, sensible thing in the world to not choose me?

Secret 1:

Not needed.
Not allowed.
Not loved, although that’s obviously part of it.
Not a good fit, in any normal, functional, practical way.


Secret 2
It’s hard to be ALL that you are, if someone is not doing well

After 14 years of searching I know why the relationship I was in (until 2006) was not the perfect one.
And I do not expect I will go around in a circle and we will ever become lovers again, the way I thought we would. 
Because although our bond was a day-to-day little party of two teens having fun (basically);

He was suffering in a way I could not help him with. 
I took as much load off his shoulders as I could, hoping he’d refind his strength.
But to no avail.

And because I had been with him for so long, I started thinking I was probably part of the problem since I was obviously no part of the solution. No matter what I tried it wasn’t working.

This connects to why I believe I should pick up and continue writing on this account, as LS Harteveld, for as long and as often as I can.
To avoid something like that ever happening again, I need to present the strongest, fiercest side of myself.
I need to dial up, and not tone down. And allow myself to show “my full size” so to speak. 

Secret 3
I need a dominant partner,

14 Years after leaving that relationship, I think there was something else besides the altruistic motive of not wanting my career overshadowing him and making matters worse. 
The less altruistic reason was:
I needed him to be strong.
I needed him to be dominant.


And I wish I had known this!
Not only do I see now that relationship failing did not have anything to do with him changing. I changed. I needed something else, and I didn’t know it.
And had I known it, I also would not have needed the
14 years of dating and truth-finding that followed.

So the reason I return today here on this blog, writing, and the reason I am convinced I need to keep writing as LS Harteveld, is because LS Harteveld shows who I am, the strongest most unapologetic side of me.
If a man I am in love with, can (could, in the very unlikely case my love life with Mr.Big picks up, would) deal with being with LS Harteveld? He can deal with anything.
And if not, LS Harteveld saves us a lot of time.

secret 4

Firstly non monogamy for myself, although that requires some elaboration.
Non-monogamy for myself means that if there are or come other men into my life, I want my partner to be supportive of that.
A strong partner is not a strong partner, if he believes that he has to isolate his woman, because she will otherwise run from him.
As such non-monogamy is required, regardless of the chances of multiple partners ever happening for me.

But the major thing is non-monogamy on his side.

Like I said, my key element in a relationship is to be wanted. Not NEEDED.
If I m the only one he has sex with, that comes dangerously close to being needed, since who else is he going to have sex with, right?
I m not saying he necessarily has to have an entire harem – he still has to make me feel wanted above anything else, so there are of course some challenges there – but he does need enough space and time away from me, so that I don’t know what he’s up to all the time.

This complicated non-monogamy, where I require a partner to be his own man, was the hardest or perhaps most uncommon thing about my sexuality, that I uncovered in 14 years.
That I was never bothered by a desire to break free from my monogamous relationship, which in fact could explain why my new “lover” in 2006 became Writing and not a crush on another man, but that in hindsight I had been bothered by my partner not having an interest in other women.

To this day, I have not met anybody so outspoken with regard to that, who wanted his or her partner to have sex with other people.
If I would have to guess, I would think that from the secrets this one was the hardest to figure out.
I think it took 10 years.
It wasn’t until I became a mistress to Mr.Big, a secret lover, that it started to dawn on me that I liked another woman “there”.
Even if it meant I was the lover, the mistress.
I felt more at ease there than being in a monogamous relationship, that much was certain.

Needing a dominant lover was a relatively easy thing to figure out.
And when it comes to behavior between the sheets, most men are willing to do you a favor.
What took a whole lot of extra time, was realizing that a desire for a dominant in sex or a dominant lover, was rooted in a need to be wanted.
I didn’t know that.
It does explain why I feel so hurt and immediately want to leave if I feel a lover doesn’t want me.
If my lover doesn’t want me, I have no business being around him.
It may explain why I took the breakup (December 2019) reasonably well;
I don’t put up a fight, when I ve already lost.

It also took the full 14 years, until this week, which is why I consider my journey finished, to realize why all the men I had amazing sex with left me.
And that is because being domineering in bed, and being able to make me feel wanted – or even wanting me – are not the same as wanting a relationship.
And this brings me to something no one has ever brought up.

5. The Biggest Secret I Discovered About Relationships Has Been Around Since 50 Shades

In the entire 50 Shades discussion, where Christian Grey negotiates his liaison with Anastasia with an extensive contract about what it is they are going to do, I have not heard anything about which I consider now to be the biggest secret I learned.

It was also never mentioned in the consent/ no consent conversation around Netfix’s streambuster “365 Days” where a Massimo abducts Laura and gives her 365 days to fall in love with him.

It’s so simple though.

Not only did these men make the women they desired feel wanted.
Not only were they both dominant in bed.
But *drum roll* they also both laid out the structure their relationship was going to have!

Ana got her say in anything from her hard limits to how much time they would spend together every week.
And Laura knew she would be held captive, but never be touched unless or until she would be literally begging for it.
And Massimo kept his word.

Both women were not just consistently asked for their consent; The structure of the relationship was mapped out for them.

I bet my writing pen, my Lauren Harteveld 2.0 rebirth, and all the lovers that I will probably no longer ever have because I am the strong bold blogger LS Harteveld who nobody dares to date – I bet all those things it was never Christian Grey’s money we fancied.
Nor being robbed of our free will by Mossano.
It was never because we – let’s make that “I” and not hide – wanted rapey sex,
although of course I want that too.

No, the thing that explains both the appeal of 50 Shades as well as 365 Days is that it depicts a dominant man, who stands for his desire for a woman.
He wants her.
And yes he lives up to his end of the bargain and is a good lover.

And yet still, it was never even about dominance or wanting her, or being a good lover.

In the end what explains the appeal of the movies, and men like Christian and Mossano, is that they wanted and offered, a real relationship, right from the get go. 

The most deviant thing of all, I guess 😉 

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

(paragraph below is still part of the original blog/ draft. I ve kept it in because I like to share this in its complete form, just like I found it)

The Journey Has Ended – but will be continued in modest form

I really have no idea how often I will write here.
From 2006-2020 I ve written a lot- but it was tied to finding out who I was sexually and relationship-wise, and didn’t really come with instructions of what the 2020 maintenance dose should be after I had reached my destination.

Nor was it set up knowing that I would be so uncomfortable to give up writing now that we are here – at the end of our journey, and coming to terms with the fact that maybe Writing was my Lover all along…
I feel so trapped and confused thinking about how I was always not chosen as a real relationship, yet at the same time I know quitting writing is not the solution.

What I do know is that I feel strong(er) with writing, than without.
And a little less as if the 14 years were in vain.

So until next time it is then, my friend.

An unexamined life is not worth living



My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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my favorite “diabolic” relationship: Detective Nick Curran and writer Catherine Tramell in Basic Instinct (1992) Promotional photo.

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

This letter was originally a letter to my pen pal, the one I call “Nikki” in my 1996 series.
He had written me last week, and as excited as I was with it, I just realized this morning (Sunday morning):
“Fuck! I still have not written Nikki back!”
And in my mind I saw my week calendar coming up, realizing I would not get around to it before Tuesday at the earliest, if I did not do it this morning. 
But before I could shift gears to the sexual, the cheerful, the playful, I needed to share what had happened here in the Netherlands, that had upset me so much.
That had in fact, cost me an entire week.
Including all the days where I could have been writing him back, and – in all honesty – that WOULD have been the better time investment.
But then after 800 words, and still trying to understand how two scandals had been able to hijack all my free hours so effortlessly – what was the common denominator? how were these two scandals  linked? – I realized I did not want this in my relationship with him (Nikki).
Writing him would have to wait, until I felt playful and sexual.
But the 800 words I had already written, were valuable.
I was certain that I would not have been so mesmerized by the news and Twitter, if it had not touched on something deeply personal.
There was a lesson in there that had already cost me 5 days, multiple Facebook diary entries (the C diaries), numerous tweets, and now 800 words.
I did not want to let those investments go to waste.
So here it is:
The story about what happened this week, the coachable version where I grow and stuff! 
And then later today I ll see if there is still life, under the belt. 

Welcome to The Netherlands!
Where You Can Spend 1.6 billion But Not Have Sex In An Unequal Relationship

(Dear Nikki,)
Okay it’s a Sunday Morning now and I wish I had written you sooner!
Not because I owe it to you or something, but because I was so happy to hear from you.
But I think the damage had already been done.

The tone of the week was already set, the ship had sailed, and although I did not know it back then, I was basically going to throw away one week of my life.
It had already cost me my joy, peace of mind, sexuality, and possibly my future if I had not, finally, yesterday night, found a way to untie myself from the horror that was going on in The Netherlands.

It was not even my own accomplishment that I could break the spell and pick up the pieces of my life.
It was because by then I had witnessed for 48 hours that everybody on Twitter was (finally?);
Equally appalled.
Equally angry.

And also; Equally trying to find the nuance on a second topic that had been bogging me since Tuesday, just like the first topic had.

It is frustrating to have TWO political topics “escalate” (I think the word escalate suggests too much simplicity in the matter, when of course these things are never simple), but “escalate” in the same 24 hours (Tuesday), and to then have that day in, day out, feeling that something is so very frickin’ off!
you keep refreshing all the regular, official, news sites, and the most obvious point of view or opinion is never on there.

But by Friday it had turned around.
The news sites were still mild, or only addressed it in a roundabout way:
But on Twitter there
was not a single message, that was favorable to the ludicrous plan of our minister of public health to “invest” 1.6 billion dollars in a shadow “test for entrance” society, which he has set up and is already running without any democratic process.

He’s rolling out a (commercially run!) dystopian Brave New World layer over our entire society.

Even when you’re vaccinated, you will have to get tested first (with a €7,50 personal fee) before you get a 24 hour time window to visit a restaurant, cinema and so on.

The first 0.7 billion will already be gone, {Dutch tweet thread that estimates the costs of first months at 1.6 billion euros}
but next week the minister has to pass a law to get his way.

Even though the regular news sites are not yet entirely up to speed with the anger and the rage of the Dutch;
I m convinced that by now this law cannot be passed through parliament.

We will not have a society where we have to buy back our freedom, one 24 hours at a time.

The other topic that bothered me was a politician who has been sent home because he is a 40+ gay man who has been grooming barely legal teens for years.
And now these boys have come out with their stories, about how they felt dirty or used, or just weird.
Again: This topic was on Twitter 24 hours before the first news site even mentioned it.
Basically, it was kept off the news sites, until the decision to fire him was already made, but that is extremely weird if you read on Twitter all these stories from those boys, and to then not have national media mention it;
It’s very surreal.

I m still coming to grips with it, why this sexual scandal disturbed me so much and I think I’ve finally gotten my head around it:
It’s because I resent how we allow for all kinds of power differences, dependencies, and allow for the giving away of power not just to exist in society, but we actually encourage making disempowering choices all the time.

What we call “security”, usually means a dependency on one employer or one relationship partner.

What we call “health care”, usually means a dependency on the medical world. The moment something is wrong, we throw it over the fence of the hospital and expect them to fix it.

What we call “economy”, means that we support ALL life styles where money exchanges hands, at the legalized level of life.
That’s why (street) drug abuse is not supported: Regular business and government do not make money off of selling street coke or heroin, which is why that lifestyle is frowned upon.
But because the legal businesses and government make money selling alcohol, potato chips and donuts; You can get those all you want.

I even read an interesting article about “active mobility”, doing your commute by foot or on bicycle: 
(Dutch) Fietsen is veel beter voor het klimaat dan elektrische auto

Active mobility, meaning getting everybody to walk or cycle to work, is a much faster route to getting clean transportation than to develop electrical cars.
But cyclists are not a part of economy, the way car buyers are.
So that solution is never pushed/ facilitated and we’re supposedly dependent on an affordable Tesla which will still cause much more pollution than cycling.

Dependency, is so interwoven with our society, that we don’t even see it anymore.

None of us are taught, EVER, what the difference is between having  power and not having power.
And that people who have it, will almost automatically use it for their own gain or that of their friends, so that they can gain even more power.

If you look at the FACTS, there really is no other conclusion than that human nature, is either inherently evil, or accidentally evil;
And that it takes a lot of things to have gone right in the way you were raised and in who you are, and THEN it will also take an incredible amount of resources in the broadest sense,
for you to not grow up a 40+ politician who has either just spent 1.6 billion euros of his people on a megalomaniac project that will bring his country to bankruptcy or civil war in the upcoming years;
Or a politician who has been grooming barely legal teens just dropping his name, and making sexual remarks and not taking any responsibility for hurting and damaging these boys who deserved to be protected and guided.

It takes a lot to NOT become that.

And the only difference between the two is that spending 1.6 billion  state funding on commercial parties, goes by unpunished.
Maybe you’ll be halted in your tracks after the first 0.7 billion, but that’s basically as bad as it’s gonna get.

Whereas for the sex with the teen boys you will be fired and Twitter crucified.
Which by the way, is not because the boys wanted that, but because Twitter thought that was the appropriate punishment and after 24 hours your employer/party agreed with Twitter. 

In hindsight the situations with the two politicians behaving badly, and only the sexual one being sent home, raised a VERY FUNDAMENTAL question for me!
And one I will totally bring home, but first:

By now this letter is of course entirely fictional!
There was no frickin way I was going to let it come THIS far, writing this much heavy ass stuff to my pen pal “Nikki”.
The part that was initially written for Nikki, ended paragraphs ago.

But let’s move on and bring it home.

The relevant questions is this:
Shouldn’t any discussion about financial violence or sexual violence , or simply “violence”, or maybe even “any discussion” FIRST be preceded by a fundamental analysis on dependency?

That you cannot discuss abuse of power, or power differences, before you know how there is a dependency, why, and what the instruments or weapons in the toolbox are, of both parties.
How could the outcome have been different?

For example, discussion on Twitter is now around “empowering” young gay men, or what type of protection they could benefit from.
However, there is also a lot of push back to this, because it is in part victim blaming.
It has the suggestion that if you have not properly defended yourself, the victim is to blame.
Which is of course a horrible suggestion.

However, if you start from the viewpoint that both politicians are inherently evil (meaning without empathy and selfishly going after their own gain), or that they are incompetent;
You can easily see that no solution can be expected from them.

So unless you have an idea on how we are going to turn every man to the path of the righteous and the enlightened;
The only way to deal with financial and sexual violence, is to empower the ones who can fall victim to these predators.

And that is the discussion where, if you do it from a broad perspective, you can start making lists of your resources, your weapons, your desired outcomes.

What do you need (f.e. extreme financial independence) to no longer be disturbed by government spending 1.6 billion and risking civil war?

What do you need (f.e. a tribe that supports you) to own your sexuality and therefor also be totally immune to grooming?

The reason I stared for five days at my news feed and Twitter, is because I needed that time to realize that I refuse to start discussing something at the level of the problem.
Because the problem is always the same:
People are inherently evil or inadequate.

And the solution is also always the same:
You have to strive to be completely independent.
You have to strive for FREEDOM

The moment you are willing to give up your freedom, and let someone else make decisions for you:
You re fucked.
(because: People are inherently evil or inadequate.)

You must have a clear view of why you do things, even when you do them for money. Even when you do them for your own gain!
And in particular:
If you do them to survive……

Whether it’s a normal job to live a normal life;
Whether it’s dating a 40+ year old because at that moment in time he’s the only one who can bring you further to where you want to be;
Or whether you get away with 1.6 billion euros;
Keep. Your. Eyes. Open!

Look death in the eye.
Look poverty in the eye.
Look evil in the eye.
Look in the mirror and see if evil is there!

Be there on the brink of the inferno of your life, always on the edge between what is right and what is wrong, knowing that you will most likely make the wrong choice.
Knowing that most people that evil.
And that you’re either going to end up being hurt, OR you re going to end up hurting others.

And train yourself, coach yourself, and never let go of yourself;
To be okay with that.

Because in order to find God:
You must first be undisturbed by the devil.


An unexamined life is not worth living



My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:


Emphatic* Thoughts On Why You Should Take The Vaccine

tenor (34)Let’s first acknowledge that I’m not writing this for those who believe in the science backing up that mRNA Covid19 vaccination is a good thing.
The people who are choosing based on numbers and science, do not need convincing.
And even more so today, when information leaked from China, that their traditional method of extracting a vaccine has supposedly led to a (traditional) vaccine that is less effective.

I am also not writing this for the ones who identify with a certain religion, a certain spiritual lineage or leader, or who deeply align with certain principles, such as freedom of choice or a desire to keep things close to how mother nature intended them.
They will not need extra information or input on their decision.

They have their faith to guide them.
And we should respect that because ultimately, no one knows the answer for certain.

What I will say, and I may risk getting my message removed from the socials, so I will speak about this in the most careful terms, is that from the perspective of risk spreading I m actually surprised all governments seem to be aiming at vaccinating as many people as possible.
Where I think keeping part of your population non-vaccinated is always a good idea, and although you cannot and should not withhold vaccines: If part of your population does not want it, I think that comes up with a perfect mix of 10-20% staying unprotected.

It’s like with those bananas you can get in the supermarket since the 50’s: They’re all Cavendish bananas, they’re “clones”, infertile, and were selected because they were resistant to the Panama disease that wiped out their predecessor Gros Michel.

But in 2008 the race 4 mutation of the same Panama disease started affecting Cavendish, and to this day no one knows what bananas we’ll be eating in the future.
Gen-mo bananas (which might be resistant to Panama race 4) are not allowed to be shipped worldwide.

All trade and research and development has been focused on planting and trading one sterile, cloned banana, for 70 years.

Whereas if they had kept 20% of production Gros Michel – which was also the best tasting banana!-
or if they had immediately started developing new seedless banana types, for some variety, chances to beat Panama race 4, would have been much better.

So I think that it should never be the aim to get everybody vaccinated, if 70 years from now you want to be prepared for your version of the Panama race 4 mutation.
Don’t put all your eggs in the same basket.

There are stories about the black plague wiping out entire villages, but the people who survived, have brought forth offspring with DNA that protects them to hiv/AIDS.
Here’s an article/research that states 10% of Europeans being hiv resistant because of it:

So translating to today’s standards, where not wanting to be vaccinated is a personal choice and you will, or should, be able to get vaccinated;
Never underestimate the tremendous value of people who don’t and are willing to risk getting sick.
It might prove to be extremely valuable one day.

But I m getting sidetracked, because this post is really not about to vaccinate or not to vaccinate from a medical or scientific perspective!
It is about why you may consider doing it from a social perspective.

I feel all discussion has polarized to:
People who see their health as something personal, are against vaccination.
And people who feel a collective HEALTH responsibility are pro.

I think the space to have more people choose vaccination, appears when we step away from the medical model of:
vaccination = immunity = protecting people

The anger people who are pro-vaccination feel towards people who are not, exists because they’re using very limited reasoning.
There is a certain laziness in their plea… as much as I hate to use this word:
Assuming everybody will get vaccinated because it’s the “good” thing to do,
“because” you protect other people?
There is a certain entitlement in that…..

A certain:
“I m not sharing my real fear and vulnerability. I m not asking you to put yourself on the line for me so I can sleep sound.
I want you to do it because it’s RIGHT!”

Well I don’t know about you, but I get extreme allergic reactions to assumptions made on me doing something because
I have to
because it is right
because it is a sign I am a good person
because it gives me the right to even exist
Or whatever!

I immediately throw myself in antagonist mode, because I WILL SHOW AND I WILL PROVE!
That I bow to no one.

That no one can make me do ANYTHING!

That I will rather DIE, than comply with your wishes.
Because I feel that if I start doing this for you?
It will never end.

First it’s social distance.
Then it’s test and trace.
Then it’s vaccinate
And 70 years from now you will still be ringing my doorbell with new things you want from me.

I know how totally annoying it is when you (and me) are expected to just roll over and comply.
Rebelling against that is as appealing to me as it is to you.
And probably even more to me.

But what I am offering is this:
What if we forgive people for not asking nicely?

What if we forgive people for not knowing how to ask, in an honest, disarming way:
“Covid really scares me. And it would make me feel so much better if you were vaccinated,
because then I don’t have to worry.
Will you do that for me?”

What if we made vaccination not something we do to physically protect each other,
but to mentally protect each other?
Vaccination as a sign of courtesy that you understand the fear, and that you are happy to take the vaccine,
including running any risks. That it is not your or my job to fully understand what is best for us INDIVIDUALLY;
Because unless you re prepared to be the sole survivor of this pandemic, by making the right choice every step of the way, you have chosen to be part of society.

Behaving in a way most people need to be comfortable around you,
is the price of living in a community.
Just like we don’t run around naked, but cover up and wear clothes instead.
Being naked is much healthier but we accept that wearing clothes is a price for being part of society.

And you could even take it one step further;
What if people looked up to you?
What if your position in society means that people are influenced by how you think about it,
by the choice you make?

How do you think Jesus, or Buddha, or contemporary spiritual leaders, or world leaders,
view the vaccine or would have viewed the vaccine?
Do you think these people would have made their choice based on what THEIR body needed?
I think not.

I think they would say what Aragorn says, when Legolas the Elf points out the dangers of the approaching armies at Helm’s Deep.
And how the warriors of Helm’s Deep are either too young, or too old. Their armor poor.
Legolas predicts, speaking in Elvish, that the people of Helm’s Deep will die in battle.
And then Aragorn, their future king, says to Legolas in common speech:
“Then I shall die as one of them.”

It is not up to you to avoid death.
Nor to avoid battle.
It is not up to you to judge the armor, or the condition of the warriors.

It is up to you to take your place in battle.
Side by side, with your people.

It is up to you, who shall be made King.


An unexamined life is not worth living

[*] Probably because I am not a native English speaker, I used the word emphatic (thoughts) , when it should have been “empathetic”.
Emphatic:  done or said in a strong way and without any doubt
Empathetic: having the ability to imagine how someone else feels
But since this piece came out so outspoken, and with great clarity, I did not change the title when I discovered my mistake.
It is indeed, emphatic.

Emphatic Thoughts On Why You Should Take The Vaccine
is part of a series on my Facebook called
The Covid Diaries – Countdown to free hugs
| report on the final months of social distancing

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Find the subscription button on this page.



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Sexless Saturdays | 1996 diary

d3e85150adf706e778f660766e78b73a--a-prayer-madonnadiary 1996
Saturday April 3, 1996

Maybe it is because my correspondence with Nikki, the British Bon Jovi bootleg trader, has been slow.
Because I don’t remember last year’s Easter to be so dull and slow, and that was when Bear and me were still in full breakup mode.

I don’t remember if we had a late or early Easter but either way, by the beginning of April 1995, Bear and me were either not seeing each other at all, or we were in the modest coffee date phase.

After that breakup December 1994 when he told me he had someone else, someone who wanted more than “just” sex (he didn’t say that but I know that is what he meant) we had months in a row when it did not seem like we would pick it up.
Least of all sexually.
But also the friendship he had promised me seemed to have been taken off the table.

I did not blame him, I assumed it probably meant that he did have feelings for me, and needed to not see me to make the other relationship work.

Yet I can’t remember Easter weekend feeling so lonely then.

Even though I did not have a pen pall then who had paused our correspondence. Nor did I have the Thursday Sunday dates at the Hard Rock Cafe, that were cancelled.
Like they are now.

Maybe that is the key:
Because I didn’t have contact with Bear, I didn’t have a hot letter exchange with a man I called Nikki, and I didn’t have anything-goes nights at the bar with like-minded souls.
So I didn’t miss them either.

But now I do. Very much.
I can’t remember ever feeling so lonely at Easter, although in my case the worse is already over.
Thursday night, Friday and today I was alone.
But tomorrow and Monday I have company.

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

With a little luck I ll be resurrected tomorrow.


tolot-4diary 1996
Saturday April 11, 1996

Since it’s exactly one week ago, I wrote in my diary last, it seems to be a Saturday night thing:
Feeling lonely.
Feeling asexual, deserted, hopeless.
In a vacuum that is filled by movies on TV because I m too numb to even put on a VHS, or to listen to Bon Jovi bootlegs to write reviews for the fanclub.
I can’t concentrate for ten minutes, let alone for 2,5 hours listening to a crackly cassette.

So sexless Saturday seems to be here to stay.
Today I walked, I cycled, I masturbated AND I did yoga.
That’s four physical activities, that should be able to sustain some feeling of vitality or even sensuality.
Some feeling of aliveness below the belt.
But nothing lasted and I feel fat and slow, as if I sat on the couch and ate nachos all day.

If you would call me, you’d hear an echo.
If you’d water me, I would drown.
If you’d invite me for a party, I would answer I have nothing to wear, because everything feels off.

I checked my calendar:
It s almost 5 weeks since Bear and me had sex.
And it’s not even two weeks since I last heard from Nikki. A small note with the latest bootleg, explaining he would have little time to write.
I received the letter on April 1st, and thought it was the worst April fools day joke ever.
In particular since he sent the letter from England so there was no way for him to know it would reach me on April 1st.
But I did feel like a fool. Not just with regard to him, but because I feel so dependent on men.

My sexuality just seems to die, the moment they turn their backs on me.
And my body even!
I couldn’t go to Thursday’s Hard Rock Cafe because my belly was hurting so badly. It was one of the few spots without easily infected organs, and it responded to breathing, so it’s probably a muscle and not an organ. Nothing to worry about at all.
But there were moments I could not even sit up straight, so no Hard Rock Cafe for me.
And another Saturday night at home wondering what I need to do to stay “alive”, in the broadest sense.
And not shrivel into sexual nothingness the moment I am deprived of men, music and more.

It will take a man or a miracle, and I suspect a miracle won’t cover it.


An unexamined life is not worth living

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
And are published together, here on this blog.

Sexless Saturdays | 1996 diary
is the nineth chapter to
1996 diary 

Find the subscription button on this page.

1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project



My diaries are available at LULU
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Road Map To Success Received. Over.

GarrapataBeach_BasicInstinct (1)“I’m a writer, I use people for what I write.
You write what you know.
Let the world beware.”

Catherine Tramell

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

When I was looking for a new photo of rock star writer Catherine Tramell from Basic Instinct, to go with this post, I could not help but wonder:
“Why am I making this so complicated?”
Why do I switch from calling myself a rock star writer, to rock star artist, simply rock star (in a brave attempt to be done with the issue), to rock star creator?
Only to end up on Sunday 28th March, eagerly writing you ten days before our usual date, because I feel I have such big news!
“I am a writer Sara! I m certain of it!”
It’s either writing you this early debriefing or tattoos, Sara.
Either I try to grasp this truth, by ingraining it into my very soul.
Or I get tattoos: “I am a writer! I am a writer! I am a writer!” covering my entire body.
And because I m attached to keeping my skin as it is, after not getting tattooed age 16 because I could not choose between a skull on my upper-arm or a tribal at my lower back, I m not getting the tattoo.
In hindsight it’s a good thing I didn’t get those tattoos, because the correct choice at the time was the tribal on my lower back because it was original and very aesthetic.
Except that was 1988.
Ten years later half of female Netherlands had one, yet the skulls-to-upper arm tattoos are to this day reserved for a small and conspicuous group!
The reason I already knew of the tribal lower back tattoos way before anyone else did, was because I was subscribed to a magazine, Revu, which was catered to a male audience. It had a lot of reports on crime, interviews with famous men (mostly) and leaned heavily on photography.
One of their photographers was Patricia Steur, who was good friend with Henk Schiffmacher who also worked at Revu and may be the most famous tattoo artist of the world.
I m not really sure because I once saw a documentary on a former Amsterdam brothel Yab Yub, and the documentary contained a 90s clip that it was the most expensive club/brothel of the world and it struck me how little fact-checking could be done in the 90s….
With this story about Steur and Schiffmacher taking place in the 80s, I have no idea who was the most famous tattoo artist then!
But Patricia Steur worked with Henk Schiffmacher at this magazine, and he was the one who brought these tribal tattoos from the Maori into his work.
So that is why Patricia had one of the first lower back tribal tattoos of the world.
I can’t remember on which photo in Revu I saw her tattoo, but I do remember telling for decades after, how I almost got one of those tattoos, because in the 80s Patricia Steur had one.
So that’s how I know it was her!
So, no tattoos again, but I do hope to remember for the rest of a life:
Even though I have called myself Rock Star * something *  for ages.
So before this morning’s epiphany, I was a Rock Star Creator.
Which I have been for about four months.
Although “Creator” was, and is, technically true, I knew it didn’t have the right ring.
And then I haven’t even discussed the 20 years where I identified as a yoga teacher!
And since 2015 a Rock Star Yoga Teacher, yes.
But I have discovered that the underlying principle in ALL my work, and also why ALL my titles feel wrong and yucky, is a mindset one.
It is the principle that reality is created by yourself, a concept often referred to as metaphysics.
Metaphysics is the branch of philosophy that examines the fundamental nature of reality, including the relationship between mind and matter, between substance and attribute, and between potentiality and actuality.

The great 20th century thinkers I study are often referred to as metaphysical teachers, but I have discovered it is a bit more complicated than that.

Or a lot more complicated
And that trying to explain to what branch I belong within metaphysics, is only going to complicate matters even further.
It’s like if you want to know the nature of the universe you ultimately end up with mostly space and a few atoms flying around in whatever way you think they’re flying around;
Once I start studying what I do, who I am, hoping to find something solid?
I end up with endless spaciousness and limitless options of what could be true.
Before I wrap this up to how this ultimately has helped me find my way back, just a little word on that metaphysics being the basis from which I operate;
It explains SO MUCH about why I don’t get along at all with every day life! 
Because I really feel reality is being created by us, because the emotions attached to it are created by us, and therefor, just like the atoms, the truth is shaped not so much based on how reality was at t=-1
But at how we responded (usually: freaked the fuck out) at t=-1
So therefor in discussing, or solving a problem existing at t=0 (now), I automatically, I really cannot stop this, start looking at t=-1
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning:
Who was energetically connecting with this thing at t=-1?
And who is probably still giving it their undivided negative fear-based attention?”

What does that person need to stop doing that?
The professional, teacher, guru, who can leave the first half of the entire equation out, and start treating the situation without addressing that, but instead immediately comes up with something that automatically addresses the final part (stops people to worry, and elevates them to start thinking and believing constructively);
That person can save the world.
He or she makes the bad situation now go away without discussing how we got from t=-1 to t=0 because we thought ourselves that way.
The fictional imaginary thoughts that gave an outcome that was perceived as reality (but that were just thoughts about reality), are reversed, by giving a tangible solution or system that will reverse an unwanted t=0 back to a neutral t=-1.
And since many professionals believe their system, their yoga, their self-help book, their medical treatment, solves the problem; And many people consulting these professionals have faith in these methods;
A lot of good is done in this world!
Problems are solved in a natural swift matter, without anybody yelling at the top of their lungs:
“Who let his or her fear-mind run rampant, and worried us all into the apocalypse? Well?”
I would.
And I would be pointing, as if it was pee or poo that someone just dropped in the middle of the living and that I simply refused to clean up, without first coming to an understanding that this is preventable if we all use the toilet.
I don’t mind cleaning up poo, I don’t mind attending to the ones who are incapable of controlling their bowel movements.
But I am not the person to start normalizing just letting it run all over the place.
However, tackling t=0 problems rarely includes an assessment of t=-1,
and how we got from one to the other.
So much for the metaphysical part of this post.
Am I a metaphysical teacher who writes and speaks about the nature of reality?
Am I now going to call myself Rock Star Metaphysical Teacher?
Not even at t= one million years.
So the past couple of weeks I went through a cycle of feeling “I m almost there!” “I am so close to finally defining what I do!”
Only to end up with out of control atoms, shooting in every direction.
Okay, that was not little..
A little word on metaphysics, right? That’s how I announced it. And then it was not little. 
This makes it difficult to write this post, as I intended. Because I was going to include the whole process of how I got there, by copying directly from my journal.
I had done 7 journaling exercises to discover my values! 
Discovering my VALUES is what gave me my big OMG I REALLY AM A WRITER! moment!
It was an exercise I had been wanting to do for some time now. It was as if I knew it (knowing my values) held information that was important. Even to me.
Although even not knowing my values I can’t really go against them, effectively.
I just blow things up, if I do something against my values.
But without knowing why, and without knowing beforehand I m going to blow it up;
So I think my curiosity to know my values was also practical. To make things more pleasant for everybody.
And the exercise went really well.
Because regardless of how broad my likes and dislikes were, as were the things I wanted to change, and as wide as the gap between me and the world seemed (it even included full-blown rants);
They all created a picture that was “Remarkably consistent”!

That was also the alternative title for this post. “Remarkably consistent.”
Because if I don’t count all my endless deviations where I try so very hard not to be a writer, I really am very consistent!
The only thing I really have been doing all the time, is writing. Regardless of how I label it.
I’ll take you by the biggest aspects of my values/ life, and how they point to being a writer. And not to anything else, not even a world famous artist/ creator.
Here we go.

value; being at home with my cats

Well, “at home”? After a year of being Covid-confined, I would appreciate a week away now and then, but that doesn’t exactly count as “rocking your life and making it big”.
Keith Haring didn’t spend the last years of his life sitting at home and sending his paintings out on UPS.
Marina lived from a van for years and then had a great wall to climb.
And every big artist in history has multiple houses, which they visit in the scarce weeks they are not touring the world.
Staying at home in the world of art, is not really a thing.
You guessed it; Unless you’re a writer.
A writer is the only person of whom it is accepted that they only visit the real world. Occasionally.
We don’t like leaving the house.
Or as Catherine puts it, when Nick Curran and Gus come to her house trying to make her come to the station voluntarily:
“Read me my rights and arrest me, and I’ll go downtown. Otherwise, get the fuck out of here.”
There is a silence and she looks at the detectives:

value; freedom

Freedom in the broadest sense, for example sexually, creatively and financially.
But that’s not exclusive to being a writer, so I m going to focus on why “freedom” was insufficiently guaranteed by defining myself as a speaker, artist, creator and even “author”. Since author means you have a publisher.
The freedom a self-published writer has, that almost no other artist has is:
Not being bothered by contractual obligations!
I did not stop having a company, stop being a business, to prevent having to deal with legislation surrounding that (such as privacy of data, financial administrative obligations, terms of service, liability) to ever allow for even the scent of administrative and communicative obligations, expectations, fine tuning and so on.
I have total freedom to create whatever I want.
And then you are free to pay me because you desire to do so, you can shower me with gifts or you buy from me. Or you don’t.
It’s that simple.
So it’s not that I would not be able to entertain, to enlighten, to surprise, and to charge thousands for a public appearance or make tons of money from a tour.
It’s just that I don’t want to because I don’t want the paperwork, liabilities, and professionalism. The availability to other people’s agenda.
I ll just be a writer.
And if you want me to come over?
Then YOU get the paperwork in order and take care of my transportation downtown, offer me coffee, and tell me where to sit.
And then I ll cross my legs and give you a show you’ll never forget.

value; being in my own world

Fortunately, this is something many artists value, and many artists get to have!
However for teachers, entrepreneurs, leaders, entertainers, and service providers, “being in their own world” is not on the menu.
Their job, the aspect of their work they are paid for, is; They have to relate to other people.

Non-artists directly have to invest in the relationship with their public, audience, tribe, and actively participate in it.

When I, really, already feel slightly nauseous when I “have to” repost a blogpost I wrote myself, to give it a better exposure, and to be present on social media. 

On social media it makes a lot of difference when you post; if you post twice you really do get twice the number of readers. But that already feels, to me, out of integrity. Even though up until now I have done it. 
I feel I owe it to my work and also readers, when deep down?
It is not what I really want. Nor what I feel is in integrity for me.

This feels in integrity to me:
Write whatever I want. post it. The end.

And on days I do not write (for that account) I still have not found my form in how to communicate, really. How to not be a total jerk on social media, by not showing up unless you have something new;
But also stay true to myself and not repost , when I m really not feeling the same urgency as I did when I wrote the post….

But having said all this, deciding if you “have to” repost your own work, is still VERY different, to what your job is if you have a non-artist job.
Because you are paid to anticipate to what other people think and (most of all) what they need to feel better.
When, as we discussed in my take on metaphysics, that is not my forte.

I do have the empathy to see that everyone who is sad, in trouble, hurt, or just a bit flat and in need of some direction, deserves to be heard, helped, and inspired to do better and to make their life totally rock by some amazing system or show that you have for sale or that you are going to provide!
Amazing! Keep doing that!

But I m the person who touches their chin and wonders:
“Really? And what happened before that, at t=-1?”

“Are you arresting me?”
“Can I change into something more appropriate?”
“Why would I need an attorney?”

I would ask:
“I’m using you for my detective. In my book. You don’t mind, do you?”


An unexamined life is not worth living



My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
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Touched For The Very First Time | 1996 diary

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Friday March 12, 1996

I have no idea if the worst is over, because in that case it was pretty doable. But even if I have another wave coming of feeling worthless, hopeless or have a panic attack, I know now that I choose this.
Because where you feel the most, you love the most.

It’s not even 7 PM on a Friday and I have a lonely weekend ahead of me. A date got cancelled tonight, so there is no escaping what I have been pushing away since Monday.
Bear and me had sex, for the first time since summer 1994.
He broke up a few months after. Months in which we saw each other only once, as I recall.
From infrequent, his calls seemed to disappear entirely.
Until he set a date and we saw each other and he told me he was seeing someone else.

Five years ended, just like that.

Five years in which I knew I wasn’t the only one, and I think he has cheated on other women who were in a relationship with him.
But it wasn’t all that obvious.
Certainly not at the point where I could be held responsible. Which is not to say I accept responsibility today, because I don’t.
His choice, his responsibility.
Not mine.

So there it is, the first weekend after we had sex and I know he’s with his girlfriend.
They’ve been together every night since Monday of course. They live together. But still. It’s the weekends that hit the hardest.
Where I am alone and he is not.
And that hurts.

There is no way of telling how hard this is going to be, but I have decided to see the pain as a sign I made the right choice to go with my heart.
And not a sign it was the wrong one.

Irritation. Impatience. Indifference.
If I had these emotions it would be a sign I could get out, and would feel relieved to start anew.

Anger. Reasoning. Blame.
It would destroy me to feel so negatively about someone I had been so intimate with.

But a heart that feels like its bleeding left to die.
That’s a sign it was the right man.

Where we’re hurt the most, is where we love the most.


Saturday March 13, 1996

The worst was indeed over.
I went to bed way too late, but I slept alright and today is extremely productive.
Although a bit lonely;
After yesterday’s date falling through, today’s walk with a friend also got cancelled because of the weather.
It’s storming.
Originally I thought I was gonna go no matter what, but then I saw a piece of roof flying by.
I live on the third floor!
A piece of roof, like corrugated sheets but without the corrugation.

I really wanted to go outside but the moment I realized that might include getting beheaded, I called him and we cancelled.
So I didn’t have any daylight, fresh air, outdoor exercise nor social interaction.
Which is not healthy, but at least I still have my head.

Yesterday I had what I thought would be my final take on sleeping with Bear even tough he now has a girlfriend.
And the pain of him leaving and not being my boyfriend, was more intense than it had been during all the years of what should probably count as “an affair”, even though he didn’t seem to be cheating, and I wasn’t seeing someone else.
But the lightness of it, was “affair-worthy”.

It’s strange that the same man leaving after sex now, going to his girlfriend and their house, is so much more painful than when I had no idea if I was the only one, yet I pictured him coming home in the student dorm and falling on the big couch in the man cave that was their shared living.

And I was right, the worst really was over yesterday.
Perhaps the whole process of getting over it and finding peace also came from reaching the conclusion in yesterday’s diary entry, that he was the right man.
Not despite the pain but because of it.
That we only get hurt where we love the most.

To be in the calm of the eye of the storm, you need it to storm.
Just don’t lose your head.


Sunday March 14, 1996

When it rains it pours! But only good things, this time.
Contrary to the last two days where I had no social interaction, and even daylight and fresh air got cancelled because of a storm;
Today was filled with so much excitement, I feel my whole life is starting anew.
That tomorrow, a Monday, my whole life will be healed, filled with meaningful relationships, and of course lots of sex.
I haven’t felt this sexual in years!
Me and Bear finally hit it off again, and me finally having all the way sex, first time in 18 months, seems to have sparked something.
Something good.

I haven’t felt this alive in ages.

Today was spent with a friend, had lots of exercise, had to go to bed around dinnertime because I was so tired!
And then tonight I went to the hard rock cafe which had “reopened”, after its unexpected and unexplained shutdown about a month ago.
Still don’t know if it was by the health inspection or if those were just rumors.
It wasn’t an official reopening or anything.
They had opened the doors this afternoon, and put the chairs outside on the terrace, and word spread fast.
A friend called me to tell me the good news, waking me from my nap.

I only had one beer, but I talked to so many people and it feels so good to be back.

Back in the land of the living.


Thursday March 25, 1996

It worked! I really am back in the land of the living.
And the consequences of needing a sex life, or to saying Yes! to sex when the opportunity arises (and in case I m absolutely crazy about the man of course), have become clearer.
They are indeed, inevitable.

I refuse to live a sterile or monogamous life.
Having one partner who is totally devoted to me, would kill my creativity, as much as living in a monastery would. People always think that I want to be the one who fools around, that not being in a relationship has perks because “then I can do whatever I want”.
Which I think is so revealing about them…. It is they who wish they could do whatever they want. They have sacrificed a unique part of themselves, their sexual expression, because they thought they had to, to be worthy of love.

When the part I would find suffocating, is him being monogamous to me.
Not me being monogamous to him.
That aspect of monogamy, is my default.

Which is not to say I do not aspire to become more versatile. Nor do I intend to say No to a new lover, to being in love, to exploring one night stands or other non-committal versions of sex, with a man when I feel attracted to him.
But it is not what comes easily and in all likeliness it will not be something I excel at.
It will not come as natural as being faithful, but that does not mean it isn’t healthy to pick Life up on an adventure.

I also insist on having a non-monogamous relationship (or no relationship!) because I m not okay with a man being jealous. I want him to be supportive of me, happy for me, take care of me when I come home.
That sort of thing.

Being faithful is easy for me, but another reason I would not make it into a promise, is because it would allow for things inside of him to stay hidden.
An undesirable inequality could arise, where I politely work around his insecurities. Something that ultimately would not benefit anybody, least of all him.
Promising him I would be faithful, would feel like doubting his ability to be bigger than that.

After the first hurt was over, or maybe even when it was still there, the thought of Bear living with his girlfriend started to arouse me.
It’s not that I can’t see how great it would be to be together. Just that it no longer keeps me from appreciating the special situation we are in.
There is too much good there, tension and interesting-ness.
I can’t write it off as a dumbed down good (he chooses for me!) versus bad (he doesn’t choose for me!) situation.

The current situation with me being the friend he started sleeping with again, is preferable to the staleness of monogamy.

I heard someone say that if you find the pain you can fall in love with, nothing can stop you.
Two and a half week after he was here, having recovered fully and counting my riches, I can say;
I ll take this.

An unexamined life is not worth living

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
And are published together, here on this blog.

Touched For The Very First Time | 1996 diary
is the eighth chapter to
1996 diary 

Find the subscription button on this page.

1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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Sex induced creativity spree

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup..

Dear Sara,

I ve linked my creativity to sex before.
And yet, the moment I had to decide if I wanted to go all in on that, I don’t think I even took it into consideration as a reason to do it.
In fact, it wasn’t even to gain anything.
It wasn’t even to gain sex!
The reason I went for it, and see myself making this same choice over and over again in the future, the choice to take sex with someone you’re attracted to when the moment arises and to not wait for perfect circumstances, was because I saw very clearly where the other path was leading.
The path of caution.
To dying without properly living your life.
A concept we should all be familiar with by now, since we’ve all thrown away the past 12 months to self-imprisonment.
After 2020 the fact that avoiding risks and waiting for better circumstances before you live your life comes at a price; Is KNOWN.
The illusion that risk can be avoided, like you can choose to not go into a roller coaster, is gone.
After a year of letting
the loneliness and the despair seep into our healthy bones, we all realize we need more than just health. 
More than being safe.
A life well lived tastes so sweet, because it always has that pinch of danger and mortality.
But I didn’t think it through that deeply.
Like I said, it was the knowledge that if I would go with fear – fear of Covid, fear of being used, fear of being judged – I would be on the run forever.

My life would get smaller.
If I kept assessing now and forever more how “okay” it was to have sex?
I would perpetuate being in the same claws the entire world has been in, since March 2020.
I would become one of those people whose life had ended but with a few decades to go before I was actually dead.
THAT is why I chose sex.
To avoid death on a spiritual, God-given plane where my life had purpose.
My motives were spiritual, philosophical, and deeply personal.
But it paid off a hundred fold.
I wrote chapter after chapter for Lauren 1996.
Three blogposts on this blog, but there are three posts on my Facebook page, which I still have got to bundle up.
And under my real name, I started a business channel for which I ve already filmed three videos. I wrote five articles, three related to Bon Jovi and two on my art and philosophy blog.
And tomorrow I am starting my biggest art project to date.
It’s called daily Bon Jovi yoga. And it’s just that. After saying goodbye permanently to teaching yoga and deciding I am not going to reinvent yoga to Rock Star Yoga.
The answer to everything I knew was meant for me, yoga wise, and yet it was never what I thought it was, was so simple!
And it was literally on my vision board for 2021.
I had two words up there (only two): “Bon Jovi” on the top-left. And “Yoga” on the top-right.
“Bon Jovi Yoga”
And last year I “got” three signs from God about what my purpose was. And the second one was “Yoga is my art”.
I even got that one on repeat, every time I went to bed asking for a sign what on earth I was supposed to “do”, make money from, or just what my purpose was.

The answer when I woke up was always the same:
And then I would be excited and have another go at it, and then it would all turn to dust, slip through my fingers, for a moment I would be okay having parted with it;
Until the cycle of accidentally getting inspired or me asking God for clues, began again.
So “Yoga is my art” and “Bon Jovi yoga” means;
My art is to do Bon Jovi yoga.
Not teach, not reinvent, not show, not share (as in video, or anything where I have to “show up in spandex”; Something I swore I would never do ever again).
Every day, starting tomorrow, and I do this under my real name;
Everyday, I do Bon Jovi yoga.
Make a tweet and a facebook post, mentioning the album or concert I used.
The end.
I ve also claimed a domain, and have so many stories to tell about this project Bon Jovi Yoga. My mind is overflowing with ideas and insights.
So I will write a lot! 
But the art itself is in the doing;
Do one cd of Bon Jovi Yoga a day.
Will do it to the day I die.
It feels so enormously powerful. I m consciously saying goodbye to the first half of my life, without that yoga without that art.
Feeling grateful I had it.
But I feel the absolute thrill and excitement of knowing this is it!
Yoga really IS my art.
Just not the way I thought, because I don’t change yoga itself into art.
I am the art.
One of the trainings I took from Katrina Ruth, I remember her words so vividly, was that you should find the thing, the habit, the “business”, that is an activity that you just love to do every day.
That you’re really like: “OF COURSE I want to do this for the rest of my life!!”
Well; Of course!
If doing Bon Jovi yoga every day would be the only art that I would ever be allowed to do, I would die fulfilled.
Even if I could not write about it.
Even if I could not share it on Twitter or Facebook, so then technically it would only exist as an energy but it would not be known;
Even then I would be fulfilled.
I feel so light and happy and boy! Who would have thought my decision to have sex would have such far reaching results!
It was also the best sex I ever had in my life.

An unexamined life is not worth living



My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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Pretty Tied Up | 1996 diary

NSFW, triggering, sexually explicit, 18+

Video: On Wednesday, 10 March 1996, Lauren attends a screening of Guns N Roses, Tokyo 1992. Pretty Tied Up was the 7th song of that VHS.

And on Tuesday and Thursday she writes in her diary:

Tuesday March 9, 1996

I feel I m in way over my head!
Sunday I came up with this idea to clean up my agenda, my social life. And get the healthy and productive lifestyle of Me, at 16!

No more Sunday night bar benders. Which didn’t seem too hard, since the Hard Rock Cafe is closed because of holiday or hygiene reasons. Either way my Thursday and Sunday fan nights are already cancelled, so it was a relatively small step (or so it seemed) to getting back to my high school rhythm.

Just the thought of having close to 10 productive hours a day, made my mouth water!
I m a freelancer, and I only bill effective hours:
Combined with how easily distracted I am, and often having the overwhelming urge to do my own work first (writing new work, even though I still have not picked up publishing my old work, my books) this means it often takes three days before I can bill 8 hours.

It’s hopeless.

And then I power through, work until way too late like I did yesterday night after having lost the entire day because Bear came by.
He just stayed a few hours, early afternoon.
But it killed my workday and maybe also because I didn’t want to feel the pain of him leaving;
I chose to work until after midnight instead.

So within 24 hours of starting my Project 88, 88 days of living my 1988 life, my current life had already spun out of control.
Instead of better, it had gotten worse.
And today a new neighbor brought me 5 gigantic homemade cookies, which were the best cookies I have ever eaten.
And eaten in the shortest amount of time, I imagine.

So on this project that was supposed to bring back my 16 year old size 6, one entire meal consisted of cookies.

But there is also good news.
About my books.
And it was such a surprise, and also shock!
I felt so free and happy and bold! I even checked with the publisher if my new plan was actually allowed.
All ISBN numbers, meaning all my books, are already registered at 1995, via a publisher that allows you to publish your own books.
It’s totally different to having a normal publisher.

So I asked:
“How strong is this push to hire an editor and designer, and make it look professional?
Because I would like to try something else, but I don’t know if I am allowed to.”

I was very proud of my choice of words “try something else”. I had thought long and hard about that. I didn’t want to shove it down their throats, because they have been so good to me.
But I also didn’t want to go ahead with something that is, three months after registering all the ISBNs and hardly making any headway publishing my books, clearly not working.

The task of publishing that many manuscripts is impossible.

So I asked:
“What if I would give myself one day for every book?
And that I print them however they come out after that one day?
No more, no less.”

And they agreed this was interesting and that they would help me!
In particular with coming up with some kind of cover format that we can adjust for every book.

So that was all very exciting (maybe you’re noticing I m not talking about Bear being here yesterday, but I m still trying to not think about it until the first pain of missing him has worn off) and then another thing happened!

Guns N Roses fans from the Thursday group at the Hard Rock Cafe are throwing a potluck party, and it’s tomorrow.
Someone has the Live in Tokyo VHS, and that’s what we’re gonna watch.

Shame it’s not the Sunday group with Bon Jovi fans, because I would have loved to see that special guy where I had, rubbing-crotches-in-passing-by-with-drinks contact with.

But then again, maybe throwing home parties on a Wednesday night is more of a dirty thing.
And Jovi fans would be too modest or hardworking to take it that far.

Let’s take it that far.

Thursday March 10, 1996

The potluck Guns N Roses night, with the show Live from Tokyo, was a success.
Although I did sleep through my alarm this morning, for the first time this week.
I m on an 88 day challenge to get into my 1988 high school rhythm. But I slipped within 24 hours, when Bear came by my house and we had sex.
It wasn’t that I could not have foreseen that, because as opposed to other times when he didn’t announce himself until last minute, or he didn’t announce himself at all, I knew he would come by.

I think as far as thinking what this meant for my chances of returning to my 16 yo virgin lifestyle, on the day my former lover would come by, and thinking those chances were higher than zero;
That was because I was still holding on to the idea that I wasn’t going to have sex with him.
He s living with his girlfriend, and I didn’t want to be a mistress. Still don’t, not really. If he had wanted me he should have chosen me.
First time we had sex was January 1990, so it’s not like he didn’t have a chance to mull things over.

And he broke up with me December 1994, and we’ve been flirting since spring 1995. Toying with the thought of starting an affair, and meanwhile also toying with each other. So we have been fooling around, and we did have sex but it was not all the way, and just in general not as intense as we used to have it. We deliberately kept it very playful and not too intimate.
Yet it was difficult, and I often had panic attacks after he left.
But it was also hot and exciting.

A year, since we started flirting!
So I too had plenty of time to mull things over.

And I am glad I did, because man! Monday, first time real sex, was so intense!
Despite my superficial “keep it light” decision, “don’t get caught up”and so on, which implies I was going to stick with other things than full sex, on a deeper level things had been both more complicated, as well as more simple.

More complicated because I knew I had outgrown the phase I drew lines in the sand, or above my panties.
But simpler because I was going to follow my heart, what felt good. Fully aware that more sex included a higher chance of meltdowns, emotional backlashes, and more recovery time.
After over 1.5 year without full sex and still madly in love, I had ran out of reasons to play safe and be the good girl.

So I stopped being a good girl.

And it was hands down the best sex I have ever had in my life.

It was as if I was a virgin physically!
I know it’s not possible, but damn it was tight! And it stayed that way, no matter how often he penetrated me.
Which was often.
But not as often as the times I had his dick in my mouth, which was deep!

I apparently have a very deep throat, or so I have been told twice after I had to stick my tongue out at a doctor’s office. One exclaimed I was the dream “test patient” for the throat area because you could look so far into my throat.
Well, however deep it was, it didn’t have spare space when he took me deeply. Bear knows I like that.
Something other women do not like, or so the few female friends with whom I have discussed my sex life have told me.

Ever since I know that, I appreciate Bear even more.
Before that I was just….spoiled I guess. Didn’t appreciate it. But exactly like with all other things sexual, including anal sex if we had that, he reads me.
He’s never strong or rough in a disconnected way. 
The guy is psychic!

The smallest twitch, or hesitation, and even things I do not know myself, and he sees it. He stops. He asks.
This all didn’t happen Monday, because my entire body was one big screaming Hell Yes.
When I say I gave more blowjobs than I have fingers on one hand, and how deep it went, this is an illustration of how much I was into it. Not to accuse him of not being sensitive, nor of
blaming him for the backlash that I can feel will still come….

It’s one thing to have an affair with someone who leaves you afterwards.
But to have one with the sex we had Monday? That hurts down to your bones.

I m on day four of holding it at bay, hoping that time will take the sharpest edges off before the blow strikes.

Yesterday, at the party with about eight other Guns N Roses fans from the Thursday gang, watching the VHS from Live in Tokyo, I noticed Slash was wearing a black T-Shirt with a white print.
For a moment I thought it was the same shirt Jon Bon Jovi was wearing in 1995, of Thin Lizzy. I went up very close to the TV screen.
But it wasn’t Thin Lizzy. It was a cartoon. 

And the disappointment over not having guessed the right shirt went over to disappointment about not having the right boyfriend.

And feeling less like Thin Lizzy, and more like a cartoon.


An unexamined life is not worth living

Pretty Tied Up| 1996 diary
is the seventh chapter to
1996 diary 

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
And will be published together, here on this blog.

Find the subscription button on this page.

1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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Project 88 | 1996 diary

Sunday March 7, 1996.

Madonna by Marcus Leatherdale 1983

I could have settled this weeks ago!
Mom and me have been going through old photos. Ordering new prints, completing our albums, laughing our socks off, those sorts of things.

And early January or maybe even late 1995, I came across a series of holiday photos from 1988, that showed my beautiful 16 year old body.
I have always known I have been fortunate. Even now, the weight I put on doesn’t bother me aesthetically.
But the moment I saw that size 6, 16 year old girl, that could eat all she want?
I longed to be so thin again.
Or, if that was no longer an option biochemically or for other reasons;
then at least I tried.
But it was as if the simplicity of that body, stood for a simplicity in life that got lost afterwards.
Because I didn’t just long for the body;
I also wanted to live her life, and be as productive as in 1988.
I had made full schooldays, five days a week, low on social interaction if any.
At nighttime I studied.
And yet I was not unhappy. Not at all.
I had a hobby, I was a photographer and I knew people outside of school from that. And I also had friends where I lived and at school, although those ties were not intensive at the time.
I was mostly by myself, and at school.
The only thing I did that could explain my Sports Illustrated physique, was 45 minutes on my bicycle twice I day.
Early this year or late last year, I already realized having this routine to fall back on, was gold.
“All” I have to do to lose the kilos and get the work done publishing my books, is to copy 1988.
And if that doesn’t work, then that doesn’t work.
But it was 100% worth trying.
Except back then, I didn’t.
Partially because I was enjoying myself too much in bars and cafes to put myself on a social diet.
And I was also doing really well if I went out.
Both creatively because I was feeling more alive, as well as doing well productively, in terms of working on my books,
So there was no immediate reason to act on those “size 6, and the grades to match” photos. Even though for a moment there, I thought I would.
But things have changed.
The Hard Rock Cafe where I used go Thursdays and Sundays, is closed.
Officially they are on a holiday. But there is no end date on the sign when they will be back and rumors say it was closed by the authorities because of lack of hygiene.  
It has given me time to find out how badly I want to sacrifice my Fridays and Mondays, to having a good time the night before.
I m guessing not that badly.
And sexually, Bear and me are in a difficult place, that also makes me long for simpler times.
There is of course still the matter of him living together with his girlfriend now. And even though I know it doesn’t make that much of a difference if we have sex as in oral sex, or sex as in intercourse;
Emotionally, they are a world apart.
So when he comes over we always kiss and cuddle but we rarely have sex. And if we do, it is oral sex. I have received, let him touch me, only once. And I had to mentally recover from that for weeks.
It was a full-on, emotional meltdown that was productivity wise the equivalent of a fortnight at the Hard Rock Cafe.
Which makes that I have two reasons to long back to the time of that photo, to 1988
If I decide to go with “her” schedule and the place she was in her sexual development, both things fall into place.
So I have decided to make a project out of it;
Project 88
Five days a week, I m going to exercise preferably by cycling;
And as much as possible, I m going to keep school hours and homework hours at my desk.
Go to bed on time, and get up at 6.30
And since it’s March 8th tomorrow, and the year I m going back to is 1988 (and it’s called Project 88), I m going to keep it going for 88 days.
Start date (day 1): Monday March 8, 1996

Get up at 6.30 Monday – Friday
Exercise preferably cycling, Monday – Friday
To bed around 10.30 P.M.
Last day (day 88): Thursday June 3, 1996

Work on publishing my books, school hours and homework hours.
Have fun sexually, but keep it light.
It brought me a good life then;
And it will bring me a good life now.

An unexamined life is not worth living

Project 88| 1996 diary
is the sixth chapter to
1996 diary 

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
And will be published together, here on this blog.

Find the subscription button on this page.

1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog: