When I do a google search for my name three Sasha Stones appear. I already encountered a young English girl named Sasha Stone on my facebook. We’re friends now. But the three who are most known on the internet are all interesting in their own ways. But they aren’t me. In case you ten readers who read this blog might be wondering.
1. Famous photographer in the 1930s who took beautiful nudes.
I do occasionally photograph myself and other things I can’t be considered on the level of that other Sasha Stone, a man, btw.
I am also not an escort, sadly. I have a feeling that if I looked like this Sasha Stone the world would be my oyster. I would probably have a lot of confidence, especially where men are concerned. Part of the sex-positive empowerment movement is to stop slut-shaming other women, that includes escorts. It’s sort of a double-edged coin, though. On the one hand you want to be known for something other than your sexuality. On the other hand it’s like having a golden ticket – sex sells. It’s so easy to get people’s attention when you play the sex card. That means you have some power. On the other hand, it also means people won’t pay much attention to anything else. It’s complicated.
All the way on the other side of the spectrum is the Sasha Stone yoga instructor. I have never actually met her though she occasionally teaches at the yoga studio where I practice. When I sign in I have to say “student Sasha.” It’s funny because back when I was a kid in Topanga in the early 70s, Sasha was always the name of someone’s dog. Now it’s just everywhere.
All of these Sashas represent aspects of my personality to an astonishing degree. I got yoga (health), sexuality, creativity. Now all I need is the neurotic “I can’t take it anymore I have to put my head in the oven for the panic and fear that comes with mortality and men who never tell you what they’re thinking and a world of suffering and oh god, mysterious diseases and car crashes … and PLANE CRASHES and war and starvation and AIDS and global warming and aging and factory farming and cancer and guilt and obsessive behavior and heartbreak and pollution and PLANE CRASHES and money and poverty and futility and…and…” That poor Sasha Stone, whoever she is. God help her.
I spend way too much thinking about me.
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