November 2003 Archives

Come closer.

Trust me.

"What if I was being stalked?" I wondered. What risks would she have taken? Who would know she was following me? Would she give herself to me?

Would opportunity lay itself on my doorstep like that?

How pretty would she look in restraints?

I went to sleep last night wondering that.

I woke up this morning wondering that.

And found gasoline for the fire in email...

The photograph.

Where to begin?

Your wide eyes...

Peace, Love and Happy Thanksgiving!

Yeah, you knew I would...

Meanwhile, she said that offers would be made Wednesday... And there's not much Wednesday left. I need a job, although I don't know that I want this one with all my heart.

Meanwhile, the oven is pre-cooking sweet potatoes and wild rice is going on the stove top. Now... only to call my parents to be certain the usual is on again for this year.

Exciting!

Dammit! I don't even have time to masturbate now!

(Right this minute... It's not like I never masturbate...)

Reward if found.

I just dug through old posts and found a lot more good salacious stuff. Where did that come from?

They're in various categories.

You have to want it.

I have to admit. She still pops into my head at inopportune times.

I find my gaze drawn this way and that. Someone is wearing something the color of her winter jacket. Someone's hair is like the color she dyed hers, and it's a similar length.

It makes me upset. I don't want that. The feeling of can't. Shouldn't. I would if I could. I didn't.

It makes me feel weak. I hate that I ever felt strongly. I loved it.

Yeah.

If I knew now what I didn't know then, my life would be dramatically different. Although I won't pretend it would be better.

I'm pretty sure it would have been a crash and burn. I console myself with imagined failure.

I loved making eye contact. It made me feel like there was something.

Sweet agony.

Mercifully, I don't have to be anywhere near anymore.

I keep hoping I'll run into her.

I want to forget.

Do you know how to turn it off?

"When the minutes drag..."

When I read things like that, I want to think it's...

Fair is fair, I know.

"...snow doesn't give a soft white
damn Whom it touches"

-e.e. cummings

It started snowing Saturday night. And finished this morning. We didn't get all that much—not really, only 4 to 6 inches. The high today is only going to be in the 20s.

This is what it's like in the midwest. Or up north. However you want to think of Minnesota. But honestly, it seems right in the world when there is snow on the ground at Thanksgiving. Makes a white Christmas seem all the more likely.

It does not snow as much as it did when I was a child. Sometimes I miss that.

While the next few days may be cool, there is every chance that the weather by the end of the week will be in the 60s or something. You never know.

I'm hoping that it goes well. I have an interview scheduled for this afternoon. Sysadmin type stuff... but third shift. :/

Beggars can't be choosers.

I do want to work.

I'm echoing DW. She knows. I know. Word, sister.

Yeah. I was in the gifted programs, too.

Started in middle school.

They called the program "Wings." They did some science stuff that was interesting, over and above what my peers were doing in regular classes. But it was boring. I asked questions about stuff that was outside of the box and got astonished looks in response. Then I shut down. It's just another class. Some of the same stuff I later had to endure in High School—which had plenty of "Special Ed" stuff, but I was supposed to stay amused in the advanced classes. I did take advanced French all through high school. Advanced English for a while. Probably should have stuck with French in college, except for I'm such a geek I thought I was going to be a computer programmer. Couldn't succeed in the programming classes. I couldn't stay tuned during the lectures, so I got lost.

The fact of the matter is that I'm doomed in traditional academic classes. If you want me to memorize words or sequences or give feedback on what I've just read—yeah, I'll ace all of those tests. And I eventually learned math really well—but not during my classes. You can't keep my attention in math classes. Try. So in middle-school I got bounced down to regular math. 7th grade I bet I got mostly A's. But it was downhill from there. I think I managed to graduate in the top quarter of my class—but considering the C's and D's I got, that surprised me.

Gifted. Yeah, so fucking what.

I'm so gifted I have to medicate myself, and I can't even remember to do that.

Took my antidepressants wrong today. My headache wasn't even a loud enough siren to remind me to take my meds.

So I have been an emotional roller coaster all day. That explains a bit of it.

Adderal. I love that stuff. It helps tons and tons. Except:

I have to remember to make an appointment with a new psychiatrist. I had a good one, but he only practices on the other side of town, where I will not be going anymore because I don't work on that side of the universe anymore.

Haven't had Adderal now for a good month. Can't get it now that I'm thinking about it because the office isn't even open regular business hours and the answering service is offsite and can't make appointments, but they can make referals for an emergency. I'm not about to interrupt some doctor's dinner because I forgot to make an appointment for four weeks.

So some day, when I remember to make an appointment, I'll be able to get a prescription that I hopefully remember to fill, that I will hopefully remember to take.

Fuck all of you who think I'm going to get addicted to it. I can't remember to take it. What kind of addict has that problem?

Oh, and the *really* cool thing is that Adderal is chemically amphetamine salts. Controlled substance. I can only ever get a 30 day supply. That means I have to remember to regularly call a doctor to get a prescription. Which works as long as I have another appointment scheduled. Which I don't.

So I'm gifted. I would rather not be.

I would rather not have to require medication so that my mind works normally. I would rather not have to live up to those expectations.

But the IQ tests don't lie. And people make a big deal about them like I'm supposed to be Mozart or Einstein or have been to some impressive Ivy-league school.

Nope. I have a trade school degree. I can pass those kinds of classes.

Do they have trade school classes for bass guitar? I have enough angst to be a rock star.

Whatever.

I forgot to take my Wellbutrin. Let's leave it at that.

Oh, and before I forget—Is there an ADD community somewhere where people forget stuff but it doesn't matter? 'Cause if you've got ADD, man I've got your back.

You know, this only asks what I have done. Not what I would do.

Went to see a production of Othello today.

That is one sad, powerful story. Tastefully realistic and therefore extraordinarily painful to see.

God help us.

Well not me, but Little Nemo sent me a link. To an animated video. Of the song. Called "I'm a Cow."

Song's by Riddle Me This, BTW.

I have a feeling you're gonna like it.

Trust me.

One of my favorite Onion fake headlines ever read:

Floppy-Armed Robot Warns "Danger! Danger!"

Sometimes I wish I could share what I'm listening to with you.

I've linked to the occasional MP3 before... but I hesitate to do that with regularity because I don't want to be known as a place for people to come and fill hard drives. Also, I can't afford that kind of bandwidth.

Maybe someday... Maybe someday I can stream Soulless Radio.

This strange thought brought to you by The Orb.

Out of the blue, I got a Paradise Pen catalog in the mail.

I spent my breakfast drooling over writing instruments costing hundreds of dollars.

They've got a store at MOA... I should go check it out.

I had forgotten how much I love fountain pens.

I'm a bit of a retro freak...

I love old mechanical things.

Even if they're new and look old.

Inside you
The tide moves
And she don't fight

The ghost in you
She don't fight

The better to eat you with, my dear....

It's a little Laurell-speak. Laurell Hamilton, the author.

In the series I've finished reading (There are twelve books), one thread that continues to build is the main character's (Anita Blake's) relationship to the community of wereanimals. It has a lot to do with her personal relationships, but also coming to terms with the powers she has.

There are however several scenes in which there is a pecking order that comes apparent. Scenes where there are wereswans and wererats and wherewolves in the same vehicle in various states between human and animal.

To the werewolves, the wereswans are alluring—because of bloodlust. Because swans are food to wolves.

Through her writing, Laurel describes the innate, subconscious knowledge that the wereanimals have. The swans are much more physically slight and are effectively useless in any sort of physical confrontation or conflict. The swans "know" they are prey. They broadcast their unease in certain circumstances with body language. The wolves, with their strength and cunning and teeth and claws are not afraid.

When I spoke of prey ealier, I intended to describe my notice for the first time of an unconscious knowledge. The slight, attractive woman who was so obsequious as she was trying to get around me. And I am 6'2" and 225. Not massive but I stand out.

I had a very brief but primal moment when I knew intuitively that I could overpower her physically, perhaps easily. And there would be little she could have done about it.

And it made me understand Laurell's writing a little more, and it made me understand why woman some are so uncomfortable alone with men.

Making the thoughts conscious and understanding them was a little shocking, but it was a powerful sensation that I will remember.

Inwardly, I have to say I was amused.

Dude,

Your words stung me like salt when you got voted off. I'm pretty sure I know something of what it feels like to make you say the things you said. I know that and I'm pretty sure I know some of the battles you fought from my own experiences of life. But you let me down. You were an example of the strength I need to overcome myself—to be who I am.

I must refute you in at least one regard. You did fit in, and you inspired strong loyalty. And that's why you scared people so bad.

I will agree that you trusted too much. I know that hurt because you felt betrayed.

But you did become cocky and arrogant. Those were your real sins. You ought to know that anyone who ever announces that he has the game sown up is doomed. It always works that way.

But in the end, you were betrayed. It's not about all that you did wrong. It's about all that you did right.

Stand tall, dude.

I love you.

OK, I've twisted a Typepad feature into something it was probably never meant to be... But the books that were formerly listed in the left column are now on a page of their own.

If you like, click the "Book Shelf" link to see what books I'm reading when I'm not lurking.

Morpheus


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

I was in the grocery store. She excused herself as she needed to get near the refrigerator case I was leaving. I politely smiled and moved on to my next item.

My first thought when I saw her, though, was "prey."

She was about a foot shorter than me. Clearly half of my weight.

How easy it would have been to subdue her.

It was unconscious knowledge.

"Prey."

I really understand what it means now.

I was up until... Well, I fell asleep with my head on my desk somewhere between 6:30 and 7:30 this morning. Playing with computers. Setting up share points on my file servers. Reloading a laptop with a fresh load of Windows and the requisite apps that I must have installed. Downloading updates. Defraging hard drives. Etc. Etc. A computer room for one.

Then I started fucking with the style sheet for this site, trying to make it look the same in Mozilla as it does in IE. Fucking non-standards compliant pieces of shit. All of them.

But mostly it was to avoid the pain I feel being unemployed.

I managed to get a resume sent to an employer for a part-time position. Which is good. I ought to be doing a lot more of that than I have. Talked to an old acquaintance about work at his company. Need to get in touch with another friend.

All I am saying, is give g33ks a chance.

Sorry.

I just want to work. I know shitloads about tech-support, and I'm pretty damned sure I can run a small data center, and I'm good and I can make you understand what's going on without talking down to you.

No, I don't have certs! Because they are temporary and because I'm tired of explaining simple concepts to people who have them. Maybe I've just seen a few bad apples...

I just wanna work, ok? I'm fucking good!

I'm starting to get worried.

At least I applied for a position. At least there is that.

Deftones are going to be here on December 2nd!

I'm not sure I have anyone to go with me... and I'm not sure I want to be a lone 30-something in a sea of boys with baggy pants and long chains from belt loops to wallets. Or is that passé now?

Plus, I'm not so sure most of my good friends are "in to that." I don't think most people would guess how hard I like my music—sometimes.

So, do you want to go?

Seriously.

Does anyone know where I can find an MP3 of Capital Heaven? I have a dubbed copy of the track from vinyl on metal tape... but if there's a pure digital version somewhere... that would rock!

Too

I brought over more links from the old site. And freshened them a bit.

They're on your left under the headings of Titillating and Masturbating. Enjoy.

I have.

Yeah, so I don't know all of the lyrics.

But if it's a question of identifying any of those songs from the radio in ten seconds or less, I'll rock your world.

When I was a young boy, I fantasized about cutting your clothing. Gradually removing more and more of it. Exposing more and more of you.

I did it because I controlled you. I did it for punishment. I did it because I knew you would disobey me. I did it because it turned me on.

Um... No.

The tickets clearly state "Nutcracker."

Which is good. Because that's what the Moscow Ballet is perfoming in 12 minutes.

The most fun thing about my normal friends is when they say "I didn't know you knew about that!" To which I respond with some obscure trivia to show I'm no poser.

That's the least fun with my ADD friends because A) They already know and B) They know an additional 50,000 things on some topic on which you previously believed you were expert.

If I'm random or sketchy it's because I'm out of Adderal. I need to call a new doctor closer to home. I think I have to have an appointment scheduled before I can have a prescription written.

That's the thing I don't like about taking it. It requires me to be vigilent and organized—which runs counter to my usual reactive mode.

I feel like I'm making excuses. Truth is, the only thing I'm aware of at any moment in time are my thoughts and what I can see in front of me. That's so wrong—I mean it causes a lot of problems.

The Adderal helps more than anything I've tried yet. It's just that it wears off every day. And when I have to remember to do it, well... I guess I'm going to have to put a better system in place.

I want more.

Where are you?

if I could give you that
I'd give it all the time
you're just a little tired today
tomorrow you'll be fine
if love heals anything at all
we should be flying
if I could give you that
I'd love you all the time

From Golden Palominos - Little Suicides

In the mirror on the wall

I'm watching me scream

Cure - Watching Me Fall

New picture posted.

Camera does video.

Hmmm.

Short.

Had it done at the salon. The one I love.

Where they massage your scalp with perfumed oil.
Where you lie prone on a... table? —while they wash your hair. With Aveda products.

God I love that!

First thing this morning, at like 9:00.

I'm in the salon waiting room. And I see this woman. Attractive hair—all put up in that precise way that's supposed to look casual. Blue jeans. Black leather loafers with higher than normal heels. Leopard-print cardigan. Sexy hips.

But her makeup... would have looked good from a distance. But she was never far enough away for me to tell. I could not believe how exaggerated it was, and harsh.

When she left the salon she got into a huge black Mercedes.

I'm going to guess she was in her sixties. Not wanting to grow old or die.

Thank you. You know who you are. Yes you.

Is it weird that my dirty little secret is one of the most positive things in my life right now?

I just feel gratitude. I don't know how else to say it.

You're the best.

Just thinking about a conversation I had earlier today, attempting to explain how I think...

Got a dirty mind.

1. You lock the target.
2. You bait the line.
3. You slowly spread the net.
4. You catch the man.

Front242 - Headhunter

I watched a show today. It was taped from a few weeks ago. Or something.

He said I’m probably so angry because of something that I needed to get when I was young, but that I did not get. He said I use anger to hurt instead of being hurt. He said anger is usually masking other painful emotions. He said that my anger is not about you.

My parents were, shall we say, physical disciplinarians. My mother… was abusive. Physically and emotionally. Hurts to say it. The woman who meant the most to me was emotionally unpredictable. One day I may be the world. One day I’m preventing her from living her life. She yelled. Called names. Hit. Slapped. Pulled hair. Pulled ears.

Sometimes, even after all that, my father would be invoked. For the belt. In the garage. Thank God he never really had his heart in it. He could be a cruel son-of-a-bitch when he thought he was in the right, but he was never mean for meaness’ sake.

Sometimes, Mom would be in one of her moods. Happened every so often. With regularity I began to notice. Then, somehow, it would start. Something would set her off. And there would be hell to pay.

There was no reason. Not really. Just an emotionally wounded woman who was driven by her demons. How she would scream in our faces.

Would have done anything to make it stop. Would have endured anything if it could be over. I was just a boy. What the hell did I know? Why did this make her so mad today?

There was no reasoning. She would twist the argument to make it our fault. Always. When I was old enough to understand that she had little ground to stand on and called her on it, she would scream “Shut up!” How dare I speak!

And how she would cry and say she was sorry. She never meant to hurt me. She would lay me in her lap and rock me and stroke my hair. And that meant the world to me. It did.

But I could never tell her everything I thought. She might shame me or laugh at me. At any rate, she would make me think her thoughts were the right ones to have. She meant well, but it taught me that it doesn’t matter what I think.

It taught me to be quiet and stew because no one really wanted to know what I wanted or what I thought.

No fucking wonder they had no idea I had ADD. No wonder they had no idea I have depressive tendencies. No wonder I believed I was such a weak person for so long. Who would listen? Why would I bother to tell anyone?

And then, when I finally start putting it together, I get the condescending light slap on the back of the head followed by "There's nothing wrong with you!" Like I'm going to confide now. You wonder why I don't call you? I'm emotionally terrified of you. I don't trust you. You scared me bad. You scarred me.

To this day, if you ask me my opinion, I will utter whatever soothing combination of words I think it is that will cause no confrontations. No matter the topic. Survival. I'm unfuckingbelievably good at lying. In some ways. More intimate ways. Perhaps most insidious of all. And why no one really knows me. I won't tell.

My worst sin is how long I've continued to perpetuate this crap. Never questioning the validity of what I had been telling myself for all of these years.

I really truly believe that my parents did the best they could. I'm still angry and hurt, but I think I can get over it now because I think I might finally understand it.

For what it’s worth, if I can send this vibe out into the ether, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I’ve been such a complete bastard so many times for so little provocation. I’m sorry I spread around my pain. I’m sorry my pain and my anger kept me from you. I’m sorry my fear of the irrational kept me from confiding in you.

I know I was wrong to hurt you.

I knew it when I did it.

It’s just that I hurt so bad it didn’t matter to me how you felt. Or maybe I wanted you to know what it feels like.

I know it’s not fair. It wasn’t fair for me. It wasn’t fair to my mother. It wasn’t fair to her father, or his father before him.

I come from a long line of really fucking brilliant people who have fucked themselves over repeatedly.

There’s so much pain in the world. I hate to think how much of it I’ve caused.

I’m sorry.

It is snowing here like a mo-fo! Big, heavy, fluffy flakes pushed by the wind, making it look foggy.

Mercury, planet of communication, is now in Sagittarius, the sign of adventure. Look to find out the latest news and gossip simply by saying hello to the right person. A chance to seduce and impress at the same time occurs today.

Mmm. Fire.

When I think about playing with your breasts.

Um, you don't want me to have caffeine.

It makes me even more moody (tending toward grumpy and crabby) than usual. That is never good. Never, ever. Never.

Always makes me smile.

I got a hit from Golden Books. The publisher of childrens' titles. You know the one. I had a zillion of them as a little boy.

That person had followed a link from Dirty Whore's site.

That would be a hard one to explain at work, wouldn't it?

Maybe Jung was on to something?

If only I had an office number...

Just so you know, mixing Trillian and Yahoo! Instant Messenger sessions may be hazardous to your social life:

N: ;)
sou11355: You're online?
sou11355: You're not online?
N: :D
sou11355: So there you are!
sou11355: Either I'm not getting through, or you're really busy.
N: i suppose i've gotten t you at a bad time... hope you are well! take care...

Grrr...

That wasn't the first time, either... but today was the first time I linked the problem with the cause. So much for trying to be two people at once. I guess it will be all Trillian, all the time—henceforth.

This is my horoscope for today (one version, anyway):

Greetings Leo, Your horoscope for the 10th of November:

POWER AND CREATIVITY AWAIT YOU!

This is a very social and exciting time for you, Leo. You are inspired to get out and communicate with interesting people around you and connect in bold and exciting ways. Understand the paths you might choose and enjoy the beauty of change. Romantically a dream comes true for you. Dreams open up for you and you are about to enter a very powerful and creative time for yourself. A partner comes to your aid when you need it the most.

Is it any wonder that I want to keep reading them?

I look at my server logs. And you've just been here.

How my mind wants to draw conclusions!

Thank you, Portia. (For the link!)

The ways I can think of—to comfort you, if only you were here.

But not for lack of looking.

Seriously.

Go look outside.

That you would miss me when I can't be with you.

My worst fear is that I would become dead to you.

Did anyone else catch the lyric Cartman sang tonight about getting on his knees and feeling Jesus' love all over his face?

I've never had make-up sex.

Who loves you like I do?

I should never say a word when I'm angry. I just embarrass the hell out of myself.

But I won't.

Suffice it to say, my life post-layoff is much different than it was. And you would have no way of knowing to what extent based on the limited amount I have written here about it. I have been lying to myself that I could somehow maintain the status quo.

It doesn't change what I feel, but it does limit my availability to express it here.

Don't read anything more into it than that.

Please.

You have to understand, this site is my dirty little secret. No one who knew me in real life before I started this site knows where this site is or what I write here. (OR if anyone did figure it out, they have blessedly not let on.)

Every moment I have here is stolen from somewhere else. Literally.

Maybe that makes sense or maybe it doesn't.

But I post when I can. I chat when I can. I email when I can. That's all I have.

I've just categorized a few hundred posts. The "writing" category ought to be pretty close to complete... in terms of what I hope you enjoy reading the most.

Thanks for coming!

Almost bought a video camera last night...

I really need a job.

I undid your jeans and slid them over your hips and down your legs.

You had to break contact with her for a moment to balance against me while you lifted your leg out. I made sure the sock came with. Soon both of your shapely legs were bare.

Meanwhile, my pixie assistant decided to help and was very busy getting your shirt off.

Perfect! That meant I could continue with your lower half... I love sliding your panties off to reveal you. Makes my cock harder. Sliding the waistband over your hips and... OH! There you are! How I worship you.

Or rather I will.

My heart goes out to you.

1 : existing outside of nature
2 : exceeding what is natural or regular
3 : inexplicable by ordinary means

(Thank you, Webster)

Laurell isn't the only one who uses that word.

I've never heard it conversationally.

Spread the meme.

It's been a strange experience reading Pattern Recognition. It's been pushing my buttons. The ones that are rarely pressed. The ones that speculate about the interconnectedness of things. Those are getting pushed hard.

Other things in my life have remarkable synchronicities. That one part of me wants to assume that connections exist, that the nature of which I can one day understand, the reason for which will one day become plain.

I dare say it borders on the religious.

Ga Ga.

What happened next was almost in slow motion.

No sooner had she noticed you—after she made me come in her mouth—you stepped into the room and moved toward her.

She stood up quickly to face you, covering her chest in modesty.

It was hard to read your face, but I would swear I saw curiosity and desire.

You reached for her before she could step away. Your hand went around her back then slid up her skin to her neck as you pulled her to you. She was more than a little afraid but it happened quickly. She stiffened a little in fear.

You pulled her face to yours. You licked as if to taste. Her? Me? You savored what you found with your tongue, taking it back into your mouth and closing your eyes briefly. Then you kissed her. Slowly. Gently. Deeply.

She resisted at first, but then she began to trust you. Slowly she melted into you and you began to control her. She allowed herself to be pressed to you with your hand on the back of her head. Her hands dropped away from her body and slowly found yours.

I stood up from the bed and walked around you. I put my hands on your hips and slowly moved them up your sides and back down. Then I moved my hands up again, reaching around the front of you and finding your breasts while grinding myself into your sweet ass. Kneading your breasts I leaned close to you and pressed my face into your hair, inhaling you. Moving close to your ear I whispered "Yesss."

And my hands began to undress you.

I finished Cerulean Sins yesterday, much to my chagrin. I thoroughly enjoyed it until I got to the end where everything gets wrapped up so neatly. I was like "What do you mean that's the end?" I hate finishing books for that reason. Once I get into that universe, I hate for it to end.

Random memory: I suppose that's sorta like how I used to cry when my friends went home when I was a little boy. I didn't want a good thing to end.

I just started reading Pattern Recognition. I thought I might have an ebook of that, but I guess I'll just have to read the dead-tree version and get it back to my friend a little (a lot) later than I thought.

Then there's The Witching hour... I started that in June on the way to England. It was good company on the damned tour bus. I ought to finish it. Maybe that will be next.

Yep. It's snowing.

One to three inches of acumulation in the grassy areas is expected.

It's melting off of paved areas as soon as it hits. The ground isn't cold enough yet. At least there's that.

Merry Christmas.

I finished the book today. I am like Richard in more ways than I care to admit.

Not all of them bad...

I binged on porn tonight. Should have been in bed 7 hours ago.

I guess nothing changes.

Not really.

Went to comment on a blog and it was gone.

I guess nothing stays the same.

I heard what you said, speaking the thoughts of the sober.

I understand.

But now I have to work from memory.

If I get it wrong, that's why.

:/

Yeah.

I love that song.

I woke up at 1:30. And I dozed off and on until 2:30. They I layed awake until 3:00. Dreaming out the details, and getting very erect in the process.

By the time I made it to my computer, I headed straight for the porn. I slowly stroked myself off and felt amazingly good.

But now I feel bad that I didn't get the words out.

They're still here.

She's going to get it.

And so are you.

Sweet, sweet baby,

It makes me so hot to know you were here.

God, I love that!

-Yours Truly