Going Commanda

Dear Lavi Angel,

I’ve had back-to-back funerals so sorry for the delay in writing. It’s high time I threw my own funeral wake so here goes…

My desire is to serve vets, to commanda men (the cis-male johnson!), and to guide humanity to give NUDY. And to wear Italian underwear. That is not a typo. Underwear! Lingerie! A brazier for fawk’s sake! Not seen on me since my pit-bull rugby girlfriend days with GiGi circa 2003.

Commanda – also not a typo. Soldiers answer to the Commander in Chief, but Footies answer to unity. Unity is the heart. The heart is within, it’s Commanda. Pussy General of yore had all her stage play Footies going Commanda – what underwear?! – never commando because we emphasize the divine feminine in the mission. All Footies are Commandas yet until this latest funeral I couldn’t quite reach why.

Death has the ultimate advantage of a certain kind of finality. You and I believe in the infinite. To quote Prince on the afterlife that’s a mighty long time, but that formerly known artist, well, I don’t buy his througline. In this life, ARE we on our own? If we drop into the heart and…

There, next to a casket, I listened. Are we really alone? What am I fearing?

Shhhhhh, listen…..the answer yielded. (Christ, the chicken tits in me is afraid to be thrown out of the family for giving NUDY, please strengthen me. Ameyn.)

What on earth am I waiting for??! Go Commanda and go home! Drop D Footie! Kneel NUDY, drop into the heart, listen! The heart serves all. The heart is in you. Me, all of us! So, let’s serve Commanda. Serve the heart, serve each other – listen. With or without underwear who cares as long as we’re caring.

It was a blast wearing my white fishnet crotchless stockings and flossing with a lock of my bush hair back in the day. Oooh, those white-hot stage lights. The pussy is the quintessential black box theater! And even though I still spin around on my motorcycle stage chair, I’m done spinning my wheels.

I’m willing to die to this old self. Be a much better guide to fawk, to NUDY. A sex forgiveness mission doesn’t spring up on its own. Well, crotchless might spring something up. I hardly feel ready yet if I’m able, it doesn’t matter. Death is certain so let’s go. Give those Italian creamy white lace panties a go and let me die a thousand times from embarrassment until FAWK shines on my face with ecstasy and innocence of the Infinite.

I’ve gone Commanda so I know I want this.

Chicken tits, you got to go.  

the Commanda’s seat


The english definition of precarious has many parts. The Pussy General focuses on just one.


My uncertainty in fawk is my foundational faith to see it through. If I knew what to do, I wouldn’t go. The investigator walking the mutative path cannot know beforehand which experiment will be the one adopted by the collective. She must follow her inner direction and tinker around and wait. Patiently.

I love not needing to be certain ~ like the wind blowing a leaf! Where will it land? Why should it care. Life is lived in the wind’s caress and the sensousness of the world. To be fully present in a touch, a feeling…

All certainty blows away when humbled to my knees, accepting power’s humility in this Now moment. To face uncertainty, forgive what I don’t know and just GO! Because I only know death is certain so fawk the rest and live in the wind…that’s the danger I like that I live for.

Blow with me?

What move can I make to bring pink panties to life in this pussy box?

Sleeping with the Job

When I was a young maiden, sex was never spoken about yet never was NOT the driving force of our Catholic community life.

Now that I have become the maiden crone, I am the driver. And having sex for Life is becoming my driving source.

Sleep I must to allow Grace to enter M.E. fully (Mutha energy) and thus transform my shadow mind from ditch sex sadness into heart orgasmic thrusts. Being aware of oneness…

…that’s the job I want.

MILF pre-reconciled

Wonderful success, we are still here. Deep contemplation brings deep satisfaction and if you are reading, please soak that in.

Really, would you drink that in with me? I’d love that, thank you.

Because startups are crazy wild difficult in the beginning.

But MILF? What you know….it’s not what I know. The hot knots of that acronym are not anywhere in my body because I have never put a child on the earth through my blessed pussy. And what gets said about a mother is every point of the spectrum. Only knowing is truth.

Would you stand on an edge with me and fall off? Know something deeper? Because I’d love to feel and hear a different mood and tone within the mission walls of what MILF stands for and under the Pro-Mission Protected vibration. Ready?

MILF = Mutha in Loving Fawk

Mutha is Open Blouse position and FAWK is forgiveness. Let’s forgive our inner mother through our NUDY heart and all cum/come home happy esctactic. Anything else is a tire emergency that never feels better. FAWK is bold security ~ the cosmic mutha’s embrace.

Thank you for your patience. It’s a high holy woman’s birthday in my lineage ~ submitting to my sexual work in the face of all things conservative is still a wild precarious ride. (Thus the pre-pre-pre campaign jitters…this ain’t FAWK yet, much MUCH more on MILF to come, pre-come reconciled NOW.)

Mutha birthing wild in the forest of your mythic journey

Thank fawking goddess, we’re moving

Would you laugh if I said I feel like the Girl Who Cried Pussy? That’s a twist on the boy who cried wolf Aesop fable, where a boy pretended a wolf was at the door so many times in provocative jest, that when the REAL wolf came, nobody believed him.

If you opened this email — because you subcribed to my Pussy General blog a long, long time ago, then THANK YOU. This tiny little hello again, world, blog post is to let you know I healed my heart and got my shite forgiven and in good enough shape to call you back in. Here’s the Cat Signal!

the Moving cat signal

My real name is Mary Jane. I’ve been living in Brooklyn for five years. I birthed the racaous Pussy General onto a black box theater stage in Atlanta GA January 2011. Then I collapsed. Refused to quit. Drug the P’General around hoofed over my shoulder like a wounded soldier. Then carried her to safety by dying all over again to my inner self. That’s a dramatic way of sharing…

I surrendered to getting quiet, contemplating, becoming really gentle with my life pain. Contemplation worked. My heart has healed to the point of BEGIN AGAIN!

Pussy General is my soul work, LISTENING within is my Life Work. I do what I do to serve the Cosmic Mutha. (Mother) Bold Listening is Real Security and I’m thrilled to my future NUDY silk strapped white corsets and hose to begin work again!

So, no more crying Wolf. (Unless I’m in theatrical NUDY monologue mode.) Time to shout Pussy from the bottom of the ditch’a with such reverb it POOF builds you a hot plank to run that burning butt over!

There’s just one thing…the hot art always comes before any hard plans. I created our blog header tonight, and that’s all I can do. If you don’t hear from me in a week, hey, I cried pussy again. Butt…if you see M.E. pop up again within seven days? WE ARE ON NUDY FAWK FIRE and my heart is bursting for you.

All my love and peace


P.S. I’ll have more concrete info posted on THEATRICS very soon, would you please check back? I appreciate you