January 8th, 2010

cameron's head

the origin of the kink meme

A question for my all-knowing, all-porning flist: what is the origin of the kink meme?

The gimmick, for those who are unfamiliar: somebody makes a post declaring a kink meme, and people post in comments (frequently anonymously, occasionally not) with requests in the form of fic prompts. Others than comment on, typically in the form of enthusiastic seconding, or write fic in (frequently anonymously, occasionally not) in reply to these requests as they are made. These requests typically embody some specific kink, hence the meme. From what I gather, the idea's antecedent is probably the anonymous love memes that go about every so often, where people post their username and others then anonymously make nice comments about them. But I don't know where or when people started writing fic in these things. (Fanlore has no entry for the concept of "kink meme," which seems to me to be a pretty gaping hole given that several fannish pages refer to kink memes.) The first one I remember seeing was for the 2009 STAR TREK flick, but being as I am not in fandom for the porn and because there are huge areas of fandom I know absolutely nothing about (see: SGA), I don't know when it started or in what fandom.

The other curious thing about the kink meme, to me, is that the anonymity function is designed to facilitate people asking for/writing exactly the kinky perverted fanfic they're asking for with no inhibitions from some attendant sense of shame. This strikes me as odd, because as several fandoms -- most especially SUPERNATURAL -- have made it abundantly clear at this point, fandom *has* no sense of shame.

("Damn, they're hot! What? They're brothers? OKAY INCEST IS AWESOME NOW YAYE.")
cass groovy

APED: "a poem every day concludes"

Well, this is it. I have now officially written a poem every day for a year. I started January 9, 2009, and January 8, 2010, makes the three-hundred-sixty-fifth poem.

I will still write poetry. But not, I think, every day.


Earth in its orbit, one more revolution --
another year out of our lives drifts away,
and the span we have left faces its diminution,
and me? I tried writing a poem every day.

Three hundred sixty-five pieces of poetry.
Some were all right, some were fair, some were bad.
Some showed too much, in their ways, showed more of me --
If you don't know which, I'll be grateful and glad.

There's no glory in it. I think I got better.
If I'd gotten worse -- well, who knows, who can say?
But I kept it up, clumsily, whether muse freed or fettered,
and now I have written a poem every day.