March 2005 Archives

A little angel told me about this one. ;) Stolen from Fallen.

1. At a rough estimate, what's the square footage of your body that isn't currently tattooed?

Currently? I have no permanent marks save for that spot on my ear where I accidentally stuck myself with a pencil. I have lots of ideas for tattoos… I just haven't gotten one yet.

2. Finish the sentence: If I knew then what I know now, I would _____

…have had a hell of a lot more fun. I've been *way* too serious. And it turns out I could have gotten away with a hell of a lot more with no loss of affection from people who matter to me.

3. What were you like before puberty hit?

Quiet. Shy. Quiet. Dimples.

4. If you could, would you be a woman for a year? Give reasons for either a yes or no answer.

Wow! The prospect actually is almost too amazing and awesome to contemplate. The short answer is… Yes!

5. If you could commit the perfect murder, would you? If you answered yes, then whom would you put on ice and why?

No. What? Am I gonna teach someone a lesson? I think it would only lead to more hatred and pain. I can't abide that.

6. Was there a time in your life when you were extremely proud of yourself, and what did you do?

Never really extremely proud. No. I have proud moments when I finish projects or if someone gives me a pat on the back, but I have a short attention span and I rarely think about good things after the fact.

7. Was there a time in your life when you were extremely ashamed of yourself, and what did you do?

Hence this blog. I became lustfully obsessed with a woman who was not my wife. I felt evil and I believed I was a bad person.

8. What, in your opinion, is an unforgivable act?

There are things that have happened to me in my past that still make me angry when I think about them. Are they unforgivable? No. On the scale of all human-kind? War. Hatred. I wish that sort of thing would go away.

9. What do you like best about yourself?

I'm smart. I have good eyes. I do good work. I'm creative.

10. What do you like least about yourself?

Don't like that I've gained weight. That bothers me a lot.

11. Who was your nemesis when you were a kid? (We all had one.)

His first name was Chris. My only fist-fight in high school was with this kid. He didn't think I would hit him, so he backed off. But, uh, I don't ever want to see his face. Ever.

12. Are you looking forward to being a grandfather, or does it scare the shit out of you?

Fatherhood is an experience I believe I am meant to have as a male human on this earth. If I ever have that privilege, then I'll take everything that goes with it.

13. When's dinner? (I'm starving.)

How 'bout now?

Do you know how I crave you?

How I long to touch you

In long caresses?

How I need to slap your bare skin?

How I want your gasps and screams and coos?

My filthy Angel…

My slutty good girl…

You make me very happy.

You know, I keep wondering when the blog spammers will be smart enough to realize that none of the spam they post here ever appears?

I know it's automated… But before spamming the same blog with the same collection of URLs for the hundredth time, why not see if any of it ever worked the first time?

MT Blacklist is a damned effective tool. Other than having to erase the moderated comments from time to time, I don't ever worry about spam on my blog because none has gotten through yet.

Dark Star Orchestra

DSO is a Grateful Dead cover band, except they're tighter—which makes them just a little different. I have to admit, I love when they play the spacey stuff. Especially when I've had the third or fourth pint. Or if I've had mushrooms… I expect to be there with a squadron of friends.

Moby

Thank God he's coming to First Ave and not The Quest. First Ave might be the only remaining non-Clear Channel venue in Minneapolis. Anyway, I've loved Moby ever since the first time I heard "Next is the 'E.'" Got my tickets. I'll be there.

Sexy Spring II (Link via MiN-KY)

This looks like the type of event that more people need to attend. I hope to attend this one!

I'm relearning my super-powers.

I feel as though I've been

bespelled

and

now

I realize

I was the evil magician.

There is magic.

I still wear the cloak of darkness, but I grin now.

Out of the darkness.

But I am behind more of the brilliant flashes.

And the intimate glow.

Once long ago, out of a half-dream state I was given a mantra:

Reality is a mastery of light.

Tigger was wearing this t-shirt that she probably found at Hot Topic or something about someplace that makes great hot chocolate—where they like to heat things up.

One word centered on her chest made me stare, because one letter was covered up by her nametag lanyard. It read "Bea_ery."

Of course, owing to the way my mind works… the first letter I could think of was "v."

Turns out the word was "Beanery."

Sort of a let down.

I found this link at Pussy Talk:

38 Arabic Terms for the Yoni

Then Myrrh sent me to the following link:

yOni

I get giddy when I'm on the first page of the Cunning Linguists—as though it's some sort of validation.

OK, but it makes me grin.

I keep seeing commercials on cable TV (INHD) suggesting that I need to experience the amazing world of Beavers.

I went to see Be Cool today. It wasn't a great movie, but it was fun.

What I was really taken with, though, was Uma Thurman's amazing sexuality…

I really haven't seen her in many movies… not since Dangerous Liaisons.

But wow! OK? Wow!

This afternoon I felt drowsy and so took the opportunity to sleep on my futon.

A dream I had somehow involved this blog. I was reading it in a public place. I don't know if it was a library or a grocery store… I suppose that was less the point than anxiety about being outed as the author of this blog.

For example, in order to write freely about my thoughts and experiences where I work, I refuse to reveal to anyone there that I write here.

Be that as it may, in the dream I was discovered by a reader. She was a woman older than me, maybe by as much as ten years. She brought up a number of things I've written about in the past. And she also told be about enjoying working together on the vampire story.

I've don't think I've ever written a story with another blogger before.

I have gamed and chatted and corresponded… but never co-authored. I've had offers. One attempt was aborted because I procrastinated so long my prospective partner was forced to assume I wasn't interested. I deeply regretted that.

Every time I have been encouraged to write or have been given the seed of a story I have become extremely anxious about failure, dropped the idea, and hated myself for it.

I have a deep, deep fear of failure. And I fear success nearly equally. I fear failure because I desire flawless perfection. I fear success because I doubt my ability to be consistent.

So I sit inactive. I distract myself with food or sex or shopping.

I give myself all sorts of creative projects to do—both things I would like to be able to say I've done and things I want to try because they sound fun—but the slate remains blank. I feel uninspired and anxious.

But in the dream I experienced a rare (in *my* dreams) moment of physical contact and emotional warmth. And the woman bent down behind me and hugged me around my arms and told me I was a very good writer.

Funny… I bought it tonight, too.

Although Woody's not my type.

It was trippy watching myself on the video monitor at work.

One of my managers was reviewing security tapes.

I saw myself. Doing plenty of work. And some not-work.

Basically, there's nothing I could do on the sales floor that would not be recorded from at least one camera angle.

Which is disquieting.

Anything available on the computerized surveillance system to replay anytime.

Not that I would necessarily do anything wrong.

Inappropriate comments, maybe…

Which reminds me.

I found some long zip-ties on the floor. I assume a customer had left them or had dropped them.

They were about 18 inches long, each. I knew they were long enough to whistle through the air if they moved in just such a way.

I pocketed them.

When Tigger came out on the floor from a break, she ducked down behind some shelves. I assume she wanted to startle me… She found out by mistake that I start easily. Lovely.

But I saw her first. So I began toward her… wielding a zip-tie, of course. Making it slice through the air like a whip.

Naturally she went on and on about me being terrible and trying to hurt her and she was going to tell. Until I asked her if it turned her on.

She didn't say anything. She turned away, embarrassed.

Heh.

Later that night she again launched unto a treatise about how she was going to get me into trouble for being sexually harrassing.

Until I looked her in the eye and told her she had never answered my question.

She turned away embarrassed again.

*So* worth it.

*So* grateful that the cameras don't have microphones. Because that's all on disk.

But I was also grateful Tigger wasn't in the store tonight doing that half-whispered yell that she does. My name. Across the store.

Instead, I worked with Sophie—the woman who wears black. She was wearing charcoal grey tonight. As always in a calf-length skirt and in her black Doc Martin-like shoes.

:: sigh ::

She's more fun than Tigger by half.

Tonight she was obsessed with food. We chatted about gateau chocolat and creme fraiche. She told me she wished to make leg of lamb. She gave me her sixth mint truffle since she thought five in one night was good plenty.

It melted in my mouth.

There are only a few sensations on my tongue that I enjoy more.

Unless you count spending two nights with my parents a trip.

Well, I did like all of my laundry. It was the sort of situation where I had been buying clothes instead of washing them.

Yeah.

Such a male.

It's a book title. I have no ideas what it's about, but I thought it would be a great blog title.

According to Google… No one seems to be using it for that.

This morning on the way to breakfast I saw one of those cars with the sexy back end like you have.

The first three characters of the license read "MNT"

I thought to myself, "Mmmm! Mount!"

Masonic?

Dammit!

I've fogotten the key!

Did I ever know it?

Form fitting black t-shirt. Low-waisted jeans. The red canvas belt with the chrome grommets. Watching that rectangle of bare skin as it sways with each step.

I just want to grab that ass and fuck hard.

I just want to get my hands in those pants.

I almost bought into it again.

I was looking at the Psychology section in the bookstore. I pulled several books from the shelf, alternately. Titles on Bipolar Disorder, Attention Deficit Disorder, and Depression.

All of them offered strategies for coping and for repairing emotional damage. It's very attractive.

But at the same time I'm quite torn.

Acceptance seems to me to go a lot farther than any talk therapy. Well, except for my second therapist—who talked to me a lot more about acceptance. Or at least he was the first one who got through to me that way.

I'm so confused. There is so much information and so little of it has been beneficial…

I just don't want to be a victim. I want to have a better understanding of how my body works and how it affects my moods and interactions with others. I want to understand it so I don't use it as a way to beat myself up for moral shortcomings. Thats what I want.

I dont want to be a victim of anything or anyone, least of all myself. What I want is to empower myself to live as best I can, making the most of all of my abilities and being at peace with myself.

This is the first time I have been able to see that so clearly.

And also I have decided to keep the meds right where they're at. There is plenty going on in my life now. I really would not be well served by adding more internal drama.

The hardest thing of all is not editing myself.

The intimacy is terrifying. But I'm not going away.

About a week ago I went on a road trip. 15 hours each way. Left on Monday. Got back home In the early Friday AM. Best drive I ever took. Ever.

While I'm not about to do that sort of thing again right away… I would do it again in a second.

Mmm… Sweet peaches…

And then… home and a return to mundanity.

I had a talk with an excellent friend. I was thinking about quitting Strattera.

The real issue is my sexuality. Strattera fucks with that. In my opinion. But I'm looking for something to blame. I haven't felt very sexual of late and I really, really miss it.

Funny: You know how overwhelmed by lust I've claimed to be. I'm never happy, am I?

But she reminded me how happy I was when I began taking Strattera. Reminded me that I felt more motivation. Reminded me that I found it easier to remember things and take care of them in a more timely way.

Therefore, it still contributes to my sense of well being. Dammit.

I miss the rock-hard and instant-on erections I used to have. I'm 36 now and I'm told it's normal for things to change for me. But I don't like it. Not one bit.

My opinion is that Strattera aggrivates this.

I know I could possibly take another pill to counter-act this, but I honestly have no desire to do it.

Maybe my opinion would change if I tried it, but I feel like it takes away some of my humanity. So I should suffer? I don't know. I suppose not. I feel so irrational.

So I haven't posted in the past few days because my sleep schedule has been completely topsy-turvy. And I haven't felt sexy or sexual at all.

Until tonight.

At work.

I was bored out of my skull. Slow retail will do that.

I had some dark fantasies. I wondered. How much pain would you take? For me?

You're such a good girl! So good to me!

I'll tell you more.

I promise.

I just want you.

Well, I get pictures in my head.

I feel you.

As you slide over me.

Baby,

Yes.