February 2005 Archives

Spreading you wide.

Devouring you.

Finding the right place to put my tongue. And then moving it there again and again.

When you come… I want it to last.

And I want to do it again.

From the moment I first saw you.

Did not want to be needy, demanding, forward, an octopus.

Always in the back of my mind: Who will see? Who will note something unusual and ask later?

My detachment and aloofness is my mask for fear.

I may have heard this twice in my life: "You look happy!"

That, Angel, is a treasure.

Been a massive consumer of media.

I have an HD TV now and digital cable. I have been mindlessly surfing the channels over and over. On an HD TV, analog channels look awful. But I know better. It's artifacts from the conversion process. HD? Pretty much rocks. But bad pr0n on Cinemax is still bad pr0n. HD or not.

I also invested enough time to watch the complete extended Lord of the Rings trilogy on DVD. It was totally worth it. This is what the theatre movies should have been. Wonderful.

Did I tell you about the table and chairs I bought from IKEA? Very, very inexpensive, but it beats the card table and folding chairs that were my original dinette set. ;) My kitchen is unpacked an fully functional now.

I also bought a retro-looking torchiere. Retro like… late 19th century. Faux patina and all. I think I might be a neo-victorian or something… in taste. I used to be Modern Guy, even retro-futuristic, but not so much anymore.

Discovered a band called M83. They're sort of a cross between Sigur Ros and 70s album rock. I like them a lot. I don't know anything about them.

Liked Kaki King's second album enough to buy her first. A girl and her guitar. Not conventional stuff. That's good in my book.

Zero 7? Still the bomb.

I bought myself an iPod. It won't fit every MP3 I've ever ripped or otherwise aquired… but everything I could possibly want with me. I've only managed to fill 6 gigs this weekend. But I have only copied over a fraction of my stuff. This takes time. Remind me to stop watching cable and get my servers back online, will you?

Oh, in addition to my immense geekitude, I'm apparently a closet gearhead. I found the Speed channel on cable and it's now basically constant background noise in my apartment. Although NASCAR coverage this last week got OLD. Very old. Plus I've been watching shows like American Chopper and American Custom on Discovery. Or TLC. Or whatever. I forgot how much I used to love cars when I was a teen.

Porn surfing has… been greatly reduced. I still love orgasms and oogling porn, but I also am not too worried about it anymore.

I stopped therapy. I think it was useless. That guy anyway. I don't think he could have reached me if he tried. Plus, I think I'm done with the addict thing. I refuse to believe I am a victim of my behavior. I refuse to believe that I don't have a choice. And I refuse to participate in a group that crams religion down my throat.

I've spoken twice this past week to people who were in the group meetings I went to. One of them said "God won't let me stop thinking about you." All I know is I felt such immense guilt, as though somehow I was letting them down by not attending meetings anymore. I can't stand it. So I won't stand for it. I'm not going back to those meetings. I'm not. I can't be a victim, it's so self-perpetuating and joyless it's not even funny.

So I said it. I'm not an addict. And I'm siding with the couselor I had a year or two ago. He didn't believe in sex addiction. I just didn't have the experiences necessary to understand why he felt that way. I kinda have a mind to talk to him again.

I'm thinking about stopping the Strattera for ADD. First of all, I no longer live with the individual for whom my attention was such an issue. Secondly, I don't plan to ever have the work that requires me to alter my focus. Or lack thereof. Because I'm not linear. And I'm not going try to fit my round peg into a square hole.

That sounds sexual.

He said "peg."

I do plan to fit my peg into holes though. Be sure of that.

So yeah. And: I read a couple of extraordinary sentences on the back of books this week. Books about Zen. I'll paraphrase because my memory works that way: "This moment, everything is as it should be." And, "Everything is perfect."

God damn but that takes a hell of anxiety out of things looking at the world from that perspective. That feels way better than "I suck and I will fail."

I'm thinking of trying that on. Not being bhuddist, per se… but certainly changing who I am on that level. I mean… If I think that there's nothing about me that I need to change? Who knows. Maybe it's the bipolar talking. ;) But I'm feeling increasingly like I can let go of some crutches. Except not the mood stabilizer—that I think has had the most profound effect on me yet. Plus maybe I'm growing and learning. But I'll keep an eye on that.

Tigger at work is apparently very interested in some boy that works at the mall… or she's interested because he's interested. He sent her flowers. It was cute. Today she wore make up to work. I have never seen her made up. I mean mascara, but never foundation and lipstick.

I got to work with Mary Ann today. She wore her usual grey sweatshirt and jeans, however she was more than a little flirtatious. So, she was sexy. I haven't worked with Mary Ann for like a month and a half. She works more day hours now. And I work nights, so there you are.

Sophie has been off on vacation. I won't get to work with her until the coming weekend. I miss her a bit. She's been harried and ill. The time away I hope will do her some good. I'm looking forward to her being her goofy self again. At least that's what I'm hoping I'll see.

Wednesday's skin is pale as ever. She never wears make up, or ever uses any styling products. Long straight hair parted in the center. Wednesday, I'm telling you. Except she's not morbid enough. She revealed to me today that her mother told her to stay at her boyfriend's house last night. Because she was too drunk. Yeah… that's good. She's… unusual. Red flags all over the place on that one. She's studying how to make jewelry. I think she and her family are too conservative for it ever to be more than a phase, but if it's her thing I hope she does it.

There's a girl at work I've never written about yet. She's never made a huge impression on me yet. She does her work and leaves… we've not been any more than acquainted except that I've worked with her increasingly.

The other day she wore a top that revealed a little decolletage. I *did* notice that. HELLO! I found myself caught twice reminding myself to look at her eyes. And the worst thing is that there was behind her a most excellent pair of legs-in-heels walking behind her in one case. But I did control myself. I am a professional. Although… I really wanted to check out the legs. Damn it. I gotta let loose more often.

And… I think about you all the time.

I jot notes at work all the time of things I want to post here. I've got a back log.

They'll never all see the light of day, but it's comforting to know I have the basis for many a post to draw from.

Life is good. Be good to yourself.

"Man is not seduced to evil, he is evil"

;)

A very sexy friend sent me a link to this link about a kissing school.

A few paragraphs down is a description of what's covered in the class.

It led me to more than a few contemplative moments.

I'd like to think I wouldn't need such a class. But participating in those "exercises" with the right partner would be… so good!

Kisses, Angel!

And especially warm greetings to those who put themselves on my map. ;)

At work, I overheard a women speaking cynically about the Super Nanny: "Children always listen to other adults…"





My thoughts on the Super Nanny:

I'd do her.

The woman who showed me to my table at breakfast was probably in her early twenties.

She was asian, had long dark hair, and wore a lot of black around her eyes. Her eyebrows were large black arches too bizarre to be real.

Most remarkably: she was tiny. I wondered if she was even four feet tall. I estimate her chin was probably even with my navel. I'm on the tall side as men go, about 6'2"… So the difference in our heights was astonishing to me.

What would it be like to make love to a woman that small?

Toy-like? Pet-like?

Would I hurt her?

I added a Guest Map link on the right.

Because I like to know where you're coming from.

PS: Apparently, you have to leave a comment or else it won't work.

A single color would not be enough.

They would be iridescent.

I thought of painting you.

With wings.

Wings that look fragile—yet are not.

Like you.

I don't know if anyone sees your soul like I do.

I think that's a crime.

My dear friend Neeraja directed me to an article in the German online magazine Tomorrow. It's a guide to sex blogs. Yours truly was even mentioned, as were many of our faves.

Near as I can tell, using AltaVista's translation tool and the dict.cc dictionary, I'm in the selection of sites representing the male voice, and my blog is described as about my sex addiction, my visits with my psychiatrist, and my masturbation to forget the world. While true… I wish my stories would have gotten a mention. I've written one or two. Other bloggers get more exciting mentions in terms of eroticism.

I'm not too surprised I haven't appeared to gain a lot of hits from German speakers lately. ;)

Tigger bought me a white chocolate truffle at work today. Unsolicited and everything. whenever I look at her now she adopts this big goofy grin.

But she's still bossy. And she was watching me conduct a transaction at the register. I made a mistake and realized it in time to hear her say "No..."

I gave her the most witheringly sarcastic "Thank you!" that I could muster. In retrospect I feel bad. A little. But I felt belittled by that, and I felt defensive.

Hmm. The white chocolate came after that. maybe she felt bad, too. Or maybe she's trying to buy my affection.

I don't know.

I think for the first time I've begun to fantasize about teaching.

Offering my guidance and direction.

Yes.

You know how in those photoshoots they have those costumes?

This must be where they come from.

Today I caught myself staring at the cleavage of three different women at work.

Bare skin. Prolonged glances.

See, I really don't want the reputation of a leering older man. Even though I leer. With glee.

I just don't want the reputation.

Tigger keeps looking better. Just keep growing that hair out, dear.

Sophie kept asking if I work tomorrow. And I do. So that's good. I don't see her much. She still wears the pseudo-Doc Martins. But less black than before. And her vowels still sound european to me. Continental. Which I still... have a soft spot for? It's wierd. I haven't spoken French for years. Doubt if I could hold up my end of a conversation anymore. But I know what an authentic speaker sounds like, and my ears always prick up when I hear that accent. Heh heh... sometimes I get other responses, too.

Other things I seem to notice with frequency are female customers wearing pink. Sweaters. T-shirts. Scarves that look like boas...

And boots.

I've been noticing the over-the-calf boots worn with the over-the-knee skirt recently. OMG, but that is hot. Thank you. One oriental-looking young woman was in the store for quite a while costumed in such a way. This was a good thing.

Mmmm.

Skirt chaser? Me?

I would love to! Thanks for asking!

Using fake email addresses...

If you need a gmail account for anonymity, let me know. I can get you one.

And the cool thing is, I'll never tell.

sou11355 is my email address at gmail.com.

In September.

Jesus.

Today she asked me how old I was. Really. Although I've never lied.

I'm still 35.

"That's old!" She said. "You're old."

I sighed. I suspected I knew what she was mulling over. Compared to NINETEEN I suppose I am fucking old.

That would be a switch—for me to be the mature and responsible one in a relationship.

She wore her glasses today. And she's growing her hair out. Both of these things suit her.

After work tonight, I waited with Tigger and Wednesday in my car. Wednesday's dad was coming to pick her up. My car was warm and dry. She's 20 and living with her parents. Studying how to make jewelry. She admitted to being ADD and medicated at work.

Tigger told me she was leaving as soon as Wednesday did so that she could avoid an awkward moment.

But not before she could give me her livejournal address.

Nothing but trouble.

The sunglasses... to keep me alive during the daytime, protecting me from the sun?

I slept for about 16 hours last night.

Well, God damn it if I didn't get fired today.

Shit.

The complaints were that I got to far behind in some areas and didn't communicate effectively in others.

I knew that I was behind.

I was just hoping that I could make enough progress quickly to reverse the trend.

The job really deserved about 60-70 hours a week, initially, to make it work. With my second job, I just wasn't gonna be able to cut it. In fact I got pretty burned out over Christmas. I was sucky at both jobs.

I moved from my town house to my apartment during this time. Not a wise plan. In addition to the sleep deprivation from working the second job (my usual nocturnal habits notwithstanding), I also wore myself down physically by doing a large portion of my move by myself—because I didn't plan or work far enough in advance to get things into boxes for when my friends were available to help me. I worked through the night on two occasions.

I got divorced during this same time frame. I was pretty distracted by this and chose to engage in a lot of self-medicating habits at work, including hours spent surfing and chatting when I could maybe have made huge progress. Yeah... nope. It's not like I don't already have issues with these things. But when I'm running from emotions, I run like a muthafucka.

I could have done a lot of things differently, but I didn't. So they decided during my probationary period that it wasn't going to work. No harm, no foul. Right? I sorta wish I could have been put on some sort of improvement program first, because I did like working there, but fuck it. I suppose I'll take what I learned here and head back into the fire.

I have found I need a lot more work on projects before I can really understand how to effectively manage one. Because I can't manage my own life at the moment.

My apartment is s-l-o-w-l-y coming together. But like today is the first day I've gotten my clothes all hung in the bedroom closet.

I've been sleeping in the living room on a futon matress—which is still on the floor since I haven't put that particular futon back together. The TV and DVD player I just bought myself are a few feet away. My laptop has wireless—so I've been surfing from there, too.

I'm sitting in the dining room tonight for the first time. I ate frozen dinners cooked in the microwave that I bought several days ago but only just unboxed tonight.

The rest of my apartment is boxes and bags. Piles of clothes. The bathroom is functional. Thank God. That may have been the first room of the house that was set up and running the right way. Strike that. It's still the only room of the house that's set up and running the right way.

When it's all arranged, maybe I'll post pics. I don't have any real special furniture. I guess I'll wait for my house before I start to decorate on a theme. I do have a theme in mind. If only I could afford the type of house I need to go along with it... ;) Maybe. We'll see, right?

I'll stick here through the year lease. Then I will decide what to do. It will depend a great deal on the type if work I am able to get consistently (I'm imagining going back to Robert Half again—next week, though).

For now... I have a little extra time on my hands. So I'm thinking that progress on my apartment will become more noticeable. heh heh.

Take the quiz: "What do you love about making love?"

Lust
You are in it for the Lust. Its all about the passion and how good they are in bed. Though you aren't necessarily a woman/man whore, you know your way around the bedroom, be proud of that accomplisment! Godspeed!

***

I'm not sure exactly how that was extrapolated from my answers... but it sorta fits. ;)