Archive for knoxville

Songs She Never Sang…

Posted in erotic, FLICKR, memoir, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, Sexy, tennessee, women with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 30, 2013 by cliffmichaels



Let’s call her Sally (I do remember her real name, however…) She transferred to Tennessee from Northwestern. She was a petite brunette, originally from Jersey. She said she had been a nightclub singer in Chicago. We met, if my memory has not failed, when she wandered into the shabby headquarters of the Gene McCarthy campaign  in the old Farragut Hotel on Gay Street in downtown Knoxville.

Sally’s mother was Baptist, her father Catholic; she was an intelligent neurotic. I found that alluring. In those days there was nothing I liked more than a half crazy, sexy girl to light me up. With her I burned at about 500 watts.

Terry was carrying a torch for a guy named Bill back in Chicago. She talked about him a lot in a melancholy way. I listened patiently, doing my supportive guy thing. She had large, beautiful brown eyes and they grew moist when she talked about him and her voice filled with slow sadness. He was the Love of her Live, she said. She would always love him, she said.


What was I to her?

Whatever I was, it only lasted about three months. The sex was OK, although I suspected then, and am more certain of it today, that she was non-orgasmic. I did my good guy, supportive, gonna make you come thing and did my heroic best to bring it off. I still remember the massive ache in my jaw and tongue as I spent what seemed like a week going down on her one day. One night, both of us half-blind drunk, we ended up in a dilapidated motel screwing in a small, shabby bed in a  shabbier room. Half way through our awkward carnal dance she spilled a large glass of iced bourbon on my naked back. The sudden burst if ice cold liquid half sobered me up and put me out of the mood. I later wrote a fairly awful poem about that night.

The trouble with my good guy supportive shtick was it never lasted all that long. Sooner or later my resentment at having to be forgiving, understanding and supportive gave way to resentment and anger. So it was with Terry. One night, near the end, we were sitting in my car in her grandmother’s driveway when all my anger boiled over. I had been drinking Tequila. At one point I think I told her that if she tried to leave the car I would kill her. I said it calmly. I like to think I didn’t really mean it. The truth is I just might have…


Not long afterwards, I told her as we drove away from a university dorm – she’d been staying with a friend -I was going to screw her hard, then dump her. Of course that was a product of my still simmering anger. Amazingly my cruelty turned her on. True to my word, after fucking her as selfishly as I could manage I drove back to the dorm and told her to get out, that  we were through.

Somehow, and I can’t quite remember how, later that day we bumped into each in a university parking lot (was she looking for her car?) A drenching, cold rain forced her into my Triumph TR-3.  She was in tears and professed strong feelings for me. We sat huddled in my car. She insisted on going down on me. Her obvious enthusiasm pleased me. Maybe, I hoped, I could replace Bill. I  wanted her back and told her so.

That was a mistake. Of course you can guess the rest: she dumped me a few days later. I realized much later she was masochistic. My abandonment of  my good guy persona, my sudden burst of cruel dominance, turned her on. When she groveled for me and stuffed my cock in her mouth, that  good guy came back, wanting again to take care of her. When that happened the bubble burst and she was on her way.


One night, perhaps relatively early in our misguided affair, she looked at me and sweetly declared, “tonight I almost love you.” How that pierced my famished heart. I wanted so badly to erase that almost. I wanted to replace Bill. I couldn’t. His place in her melancholy heart and dreams remained secure.

She went back to Chicago at the first of the year. We wrote for a time. Ine of her first letters she gleefully narrated, in her elegant handwriting on pink note paper, the story for me of how she finally manageed to orgasm on her new boyfriend’s more  patient and talented tongue.

One last thing. Sally never sang for me – not once. Even today I like to imagine her voice was softly intimate, a little husky and could just melt your good guy heart…


Photo by Orchidee, click each photo for details and license


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Tremont, in the Smokies

Posted in FLICKR, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, tennessee with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 14, 2011 by cliffmichaels

I’ve shot in Tremont, a part of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, a dozen times or so. This photo by Ben M reminds me why I need to get there again…


Subject to this creative commons license 

One of Ben M.’s sets 

Flickr group: Tremont, Tennessee

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Posted in erotic, FLICKR, lingerie, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, sexual, Sexy, Uncategorized, women with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 14, 2011 by cliffmichaels


Another Sunday. Another lukewarm cup of coffee. Another week about to start. Another pointless blog post…

I don’t understand quantum mechanics. I don’t understand calculus either, or soccer, or the poetry of e. e. cummings.  And, most of all, I do not understand women.

Maybe if I’d had sisters growing up I might better comprehend the fair sex. But I didn’t. I was the oldest of three boys. When I reached puberty women – well, girls, actually – seemed like Odysseus’ Sirens with pigtails and braces. Until I was in my first serious relationship (with Good Old Kathie), at 18, I honestly was not sure if women farted, or belched or took a dump. I only knew that I desperately wanted to gaze at them, touch them, kiss them, fondle them and their magical breasts, and make mad passionate love with them. It took me what seemed like half of forever to make it all they through that list. It was worth it; my god was it worth it!

This may seem unbelievable, but I have no memory of the first time I had sex with a woman. I know when it was: late in the summer of 1966 not long before I left for college. I know who it was with: Good Old Kathie. And I know where it was: in my good friend John’s apartment just two or three blocks fro the main campus of the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.

I must have been drunk; that’s the only explanation I have for utterly forgetting my passage into manhood.  It wasn’t Kathie. I remember the sex that followed. During the week she was a good Baptist girl, determined to refrain from carnality and reclaim her virtue. Come Friday or Saturday night, however, she would snuggle up against me and whisper, “can we  borrow John’s apartment tonight?” 

It is hard to believe Kathie is now 64 years old. I last saw her in the late sixties. She would have been twenty something then. She was thin, with short, dark brown hair and modest breasts. She had  acne scars on her face which she tried to cover with makeup. While she was no beauty, her lively, intelligent brown eyes  gave her a certain allure (enhanced, of course, by the tidal waves of my adolescent testosterone).

But she took my virginity, and a piece of my heart. For that reason alone she will always own a special and unique place in my life and memory – even if I can’t recall precisely how it was she made me a man that sweaty Summer night in Knoxville.

 Photo credits: top: Pixel Pro Photography; bottom: Emily Raw; both subject to this creative commons license

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Close to Home

Posted in photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, tennessee with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 26, 2011 by cliffmichaels

There are lots of great Flickr photographers from all around the globe. Here, in my little corner of the world, east Tennessee, we have some good ones as well…

PHOTOGIRL612– Her photos of Caves Code  are particularly nice

GREG BOOHER –  Enjoy his Tennessee landscapes

MARTY CARSON – His landscape set makes me jealous

Flickr groups: East Tennessee Photographers East Tennessee Natural Landscapes

Photo by Kimintn, subject to a creative commons license

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This Won’t Mean Much…

Posted in FLICKR, PHOTOGRAPHY, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on January 26, 2010 by cliffmichaels

I wrote back in November about my iphone with its cracker jack prize of a camera. I very rarely use the camera on my iPhone 3G. There’s all of one photo on Visions I took with the phone, a shot of my Dear Secretary Jayne.

Sunday afternoon my wife and I travelled to north Knoxville to welcome back my father to his home after his almost  month long stay in a hospital in Atlanta and a Knoxville transitional care unit. We also went to celebrate, two days early,  his ninetieth birthday. We (which of course means my wife) made him a birthday cake and brought a token present: a pair of lounging pajamas.

When we got there my wife said, “oh, no! You forgot your camera!” I started to apologize then had a brain storm. “No I didn’t,” I crowed, “we have our iPhones!”

My wife caused me considerable heartburn when, through her office, she got a iPhone 3GS. The worst part is she only uses it as a phone and could care less about all those neat features that, sob, are not on my antique 3G.

Sunday her phone came in handy. With its 3.2 megapixel sensor and automatic exposure I managed to get some almost passable photos of dad and his cake and his present…

Here is a Flickr group of over seven thousand photos taken with the iPhone 3Gs.

And here are two from Sunday.. (click on either image to enlarge)

Tempus Fugit

Posted in FLICKR, PHOTOGRAPHY, tennessee, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on January 16, 2010 by cliffmichaels

Next week my father will celebrate his ninetieth birthday. Sadly, he won’t be able to do much celebrating. Over the past six months his health has been precarious. Today he is in a transitional health care unit in Knoxville after spending two weeks in Emory Hospital in Atlanta throughout the Christmas vacation period.

Like most people, I have uncounted memories of my father, both good and bad, made from my earliest childhood through today. In those memories he ages from his early thirties onward. Our relationship, particularly in my late teens and early twenties, has been strained at times.

I decided twenty years or so ago to make peace. I did not want to have our relationship remain contentious to the bitter end. He was, after all, my father. I was bound to him as surely as I was bound to my own heart. He was a part of me, of my life, I could never escape. “You’re just like your dad,” was an accusation or compliment I heard  more and more often as I aged.

I don’t have a lot of photographs of my father. The sketch of him was done by his sister when he was in his thirties, and  the photoshopped photo of my parents dates from shortly after they married. I’ve also included two of my better photos of dad taken recently….

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My Scruffy Little City

Posted in FLICKR, tennessee with tags , , , , on January 9, 2010 by cliffmichaels

I’ve lived in or near Knoxville, Tennessee, most of my life. My family moved to the city from Anderson County when I was five. My parents bought a brand new house in a brand new subdivision in the west edge of Knoxville. We moved to California when I was around twelve, then came back in the summer before my freshman year in high school (some of my California adventures are recounted here and here).

Once called a “scruffy little city” by a national magazine, Knoxville now is reasonably civilized. When I was young the city was consumed by arguments over fluoridation of the water supply, racial integration, and whether Earl Warren should be impeached.  I’ve since seen the arrival of  fluoride, relative racial equality and, alas, a conservative Supreme Court. I’ve applauded the coming of live theater, a decent symphony orchestra, and legal liquor, both package stores and by the drink, and the subsequent rise in sophisticated and varied dining. I even survived the very mixed blessing that was the “world’s fair” in 1982.

Most of my post high school education was in Knoxville, concluding with law school. During the late sixties I was a minor player in the anti-war (that’s the Vietnam War) movement at the university. I  freely admit the severe character flaw which causes my baffling addiction to all university sports teams and my illogical love for a certain shade of orange, particularly on autumnal Saturday afternoons.

Being the insufferable liberal elitist that I am, I’ve always yearned to live in a much larger, more cosmopolitan city. New York would be the best. Chicago would be good. Atlanta would do in a pinch. But Knoxville is like family to me: I may have decideally mixed feelings about the city but I can’t seem to get very far away from the place.

Here, culled from the Great Flickr Sea, is a tiny tribute to my scruffy little river city:


Flickr Group: Knoxville, Tennessee

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