October 2006 Archives

I'm nothing if not prone to over-analysis.

This site has never been purely a sex blog, although I eagerly explore and dwell on (and in) sex and sexuality. I get lots and lots of hits from Eros, for which I am very grateful, but I the logs show consistent clicks in and what I imagine are quick clicks out because penises and vaginas comingling are not the only topic I write on. Take this post. (Please.)

And I think to the chagrin of some, this has never been purely a BDSM blog, either. Again, I have eagerly explored some topics relating to dicovery and practice. Further, I have employed blatant and obvious design elements which tend to lead the casual observer in that direction. Others might say I was latent and oblivious. I don't know any more and I find myself not caring so much, anyway.

What I want to do is to promote your rights an an individual to practice your own version of sexuality (an it harm none) free from intervention from government and from society. That's pretty pie-in-the-sky, but that would be an ideal end to aim for. I guess it comes down to who gets to define harm, but that's a discussion for a different day.

Other goals I have are to sexually arouse you and to keep you spell-bound. Some days I think I have that one nailed. Other days, like today, I feel clueless and fear a complete and permanent loss of creativity.

Consistent threads I have seen in my writing are persistent efforts at psychological self-diagnosis and variations on the theme of "Gosh, I'm horny." This blog has been my deepest secret, it has been my absolute confidant and it is a pure expression of need.

What I wanted to know by expressing my thoughts here is that really, truly, I was not insane. More than that, I wanted to know I was not alone. Reading my past entries has shown me that I have indeed been more than a little crazy in spells. But mostly it has been my own insistence that there was something amiss. My relentless harping on ADD and depression and then my ultimate (though thankfully temporary) foray into the world of the Twelve Steps.

Finally,the thing that was the secret, my obsession with a female coworker, is now moot. I have since divorced the woman I fell out of love with. I no longer work with or know the whereabouts of the obsessee. And I am in exactly the type of relationship I wrote about and that I dreamed of three years ago.

That means a lot of the anger and self-hatred has dissipated. My outlook has changed. So I warn you that the topics and subject matter won't always be what they were. I honestly don't know where it's headed. I would like to think that my writing will be less about hating myself and more about being deliciously evil.

For what it's worth, I do plan to keep writing—this is no swan-song or fare-well. This is an acknowledgement of transition and a mourning of the passing of what has been.

Thanks for reading all this time.

Holy Crap…

Well, I've been editing old posts of late, as I mentioned earlier. And I've made substantial headway.

The reason for the editing is because I have moved this blog twice. For about the first year, none of my posts had titles. It was very stream-of-consciousness with only a time stamp and a byline to indicate a new post. I think I had a date divider as well.

I had that blog initially on Blogger, before blogger was purchased by Google and before there was a built-in commenting system. I've noticed that some of the posts pertain directly to comments I remember receiving, but I no longer have them as I was using a third-party commenting system. It might be possible to go back to that service and find the comments and reconstruct the feedback, but that is a project for another day. [A look a how it was in the beginning.]

Then I moved over to TypePad. I still have a placeholder site there, but it only points here. TypePad actually deletes all of your old pages when you close up shop there. I don't have anything to show regarding how that blog looked. It was a three column design, which was the basis for the look I have today.

I don't remember when I started having categories, whether it was on TypePad, or whether it was when I moved to MovableType on my own host, but hundreds and hundreds of entries now need to be retitled, because the import tool assumed the first line of the post was the title when I brought everything here. And then there's the whole category thing.

It was really hard to remember what I was thinking in a lot of cases, so most of them head into the "revealing" category. I use that as a sort of catch-all for revealing my thoughts. Especially when I blog things I would not say.

But it has been a trip, remembering my frame of mind when it comes back to me. Some of the old posts are really scary—like I-was-insane scary. Some of them are really sexy. And I ran across all kinds of Haikus I dashed off. Even some entries which were composed of nothing but paragraphs of Haiku.

I forgot about how prolific and creative I was. I hadn't realized how far I shut down when I went into "therapy" prior to my divorce.

I want it back.

I still have about four hundred posts to clean up. That's just in the period from mid-May through July of 2003.

Yeah, dammit.

The good thing about going through my old posts is that I'm catching all of the spelling errors.

Embarrassing.

Been editing old posts… No, I haven't deleted a word!

I found two posts entitled "Cunt." (1,2)

I have lost my fear of that word.

I love cunt.

And I'm slowly getting the old posts properly titled and categorized.

I'm relieved that I'm not in the crazy depressed, trapped, roller-coaster treadmill place that I used to be in.

And the new Firefox is so worth it. Built-in spell check. Get it.

Filthy.

Slut.

Whore for cock.

Can I admit that I have issues?

Yeah, so maybe I have admitted to one or two here previously…

But I have to say that I have lived in near constant dread on this contract. That I wasn't doing well enough. That I wasn't doing things right enough. Or fast enough.

I cringe when my supervisor is near, in fear that he is going to call me down for some real or unknown transgression.

My supervisor is a nice guy. Not a great manager, but a nice guy.

This isn't the first time I have felt that way, but the more I imagine my performance may be at issue, the worse off I am. There are times when the fear and anxiety are nearly debilatating. Which means my performance suffers, according to me, and then the worry and the fear gain a greater foothold.

Doesn't seem to matter how old I am or how much experience I gain.

At all times I have the potential to be my most powerful adversary.

One thing has changed though, with age. I'm 38 and sometimes I wonder where the fuck all of those years went. How could I be 38 already? But my point is that I feel increasing urgency to get on with life. My tenure here isn't getting any longer. Life is too short to be ruled by fear. It's too short.

I mean, there's a spring in my step. I have the third of three interviews today… if everything goes well, I get to keep the job I have been doing as a contractor for the last several months. Except I would actually be in a permanent, salaried position—she first full-time permanent position I have held since… 2003.

I can do the work. I just need them to know I'm the right man for the job. Er, how wouldn't they know after this long? I don't know, I just don't want to fuck this up.

I have had two iPods for some time. About a year and a half ago, I bought a 60 gig unit… the classic white and the largest capacity unit that Ultimate Electronics had on hand. It was an iPod Photo—that short-lived designation that went away as soon as they all became capable of displaying photos.

Later, about a year ago, I bought a video iPod. A black one. I ordered it the day that video iPods were announced.

I kept it and lent the white one to my Flower.

Well, she just found an iPod Nano she loved, so the white one has come back to me.

It occurred to me then, that I could put my music back on the white one, and put some… video stuff on the other. You know, because it can play video. And stuff.

Apparently, my Flower was on the same wavelength.

She said, "You can have your white iPod back, and your black one can be your Mobile Porn Unit. Your MPU!"

So, yeah… My Black As My iPod is now full of teh Pr0n. It's my new MPU.

And that makes me all warm inside.

I love taking my filthy, degenerate music with me.

When I'm listening to my iPod with a grin or a smirk or a full-on smile, it's because I'm hearing Karen Finley shout "Get me off! Get me off! Get me off right now!" or the female vocalist from Lords of Acid saying "I wanna sit on your face." Or Prince. Jesus, there's Cream, Peach, Erotic City, Tick Tick Bang, Gett Off… Trent Reznor singing "I want to fuck you like an animal!"

Or Front 242's sample of the preacher shouting "Hey poor, you don't have to be poor any more!" Yello's song Domingo which is a long rant against Christianity. Moev's songs Captitol Heaven and Crucify Me. Thrill Kill Kult's Shock of Point 6 with the "Bow down and worship me" refrain. Or their song Kooler than Jesus…

I cherish songs that have lyrics which might incite riots or cause arrests for obscenity or indecency. Well, at least for causes I identify with: sexuality and sexual freedom, intellectual freedom, and religious freedom.

Which reminds me of Rush's song Witch Hunt! Ooh!

But, I gotta say, those songs get me off on so many levels.

What songs get you off?

Well, here's the thing: when I read someone saying "I'm bored," I interpret that as saying "Entertain me." I realize that's my own reaction and I'm responsible for that. I'm also admitting that I have co-dependant tendencies and I want to fix things for people.

Experience has taught me that people who say they are bored are the most difficult people in the world to please on any level. Boredom, like so many other emotions, is a key indicator that something in your life needs to be addressed. No amount of entertainment is going to erase the reason those feelings arose.

As unhealthy as it may be, my anger is an attempt for me to distance myself from others' problems.

The previous post was inspired by a young woman who posted on an alternative modeling site "I was bored, so I took these pictures." The post was accompanied with several self-portraits.

I wanted to punch her in the throat.

I felt like she was saying "I am so alt! Look at me suffering ennui!"

Listen honey, there is nothing alt about boredom. It just makes you human. Normal even like the normals I'll bet you despise. So fuck you very much for the pictures.

So if you are bored with your job, or with classes, or your relationships, I get that. I get it. I've been there and I know how that feels.

But let's look at why you are bored. If you don't know why, that's your problem. I'm not your bitch. I'm not jumping through hoops for you.

Suck it up. And get away from me.

That's right, I said it.

I don't care who you are.

If you are "bored," do not post.

Anything.

I don't want to know what you look like when you are bored, either. Although there's a chance I look just like that while wading through your shit.

There's the old adage that if you are bored, you are quite possibly also boring.

When you announce you are bored, I immediately lose interest.

Take some responsibility.

Shut the fuck up.

Disclaimer: This is directed to some people posting on large lists, but it has applications more broadly.

I really have no excuse now. I just got a yamaha electric guitar from a friend for free…

Electric guitar… Electric bass… Practice amp…

All I need is some street cred and some groupies!

Just kidding.

Kinda…

Dammit. As soon as I got in the shower this morning I found I could remember even more of the song that I was trying to block out.

What's worse is that I forgot to bring my iPod with me today.

So for about the last two hours I have been treating myself to the dulcet vocals of Steve Perry.

I can't make it stop.

Such is the power of the Ear Worm.

I mean really… if they're in front of you, don't you just want to suck them?

It just occurred to me that for quite a while I had been emailing my entries on this journal to a select audience—

There were issues of privacy, secrecy and firewalls.

But at some point recentIy I forgot to keep it up.

If you want me to, I still can.

Just say the word.

I spent the second half of my bus ride listening to a playlist that started out as my Black + Red mix tape about 14 years ago featuring Front 242, Moev, Madonna reading from the Bible over beats, Lords of Acid and Recoil.

The Recoil track "Want" is a recent addition to the playlist. But it fits in perfectly to the mix and makes a brilliant segue to Karen Finley's Tales of Taboo.

But I wanted to thank Eden for writing about that track years ago, or I might never have heard it.

After listening to that dark, sexual and subversive music I feel full of black glee.

Journey can fuck right off.

"…Saints or sinners
Take no prisoners
What's left
After you fall?

No, not much.
No."

Sorry… It all seems to come back to the Journey lyrics for me, doesn't it?

That song has been in my head for a few days… I'm about to put on my iPod headphones to see if I can't change that.

This is just a little test to see if this Treo can utilize some of the services I pay for.

Then I can write and post without fear of anything on my work PC.

Listen, I know I don't really write the pr0n like I used to.

The reason is not so much that I'm not interested in doing it any more, because I think about it frequently.

The main reason is that my lifestyle is a lot different now than it was three or four years ago when I was doing it most actively.

The primary difference is that I'm not spending 4 to 6 hours a night in front of my computer with my cock in my hand. By the way, that's a really excellent way to wreck a marriage. Or if you're there, the marriage is pretty wrecked. Either way.

At any rate, I was pretty emotionally and intellectually involved with what I was writing and that took a lot of time and energy I can't devote quite the same way now. I honestly have angst about that sometimes—that I developed an audience for a certain style of writing and that I haven't delivered in a long time.

On the other hand…

The writing here has put me in a place where I have more sexual integrity than I used to have. Does that seem weird to say? I am moving gently, as is my style, into BDSM. It has been and still remains an amazing journey. What is most amazing to me is peeling back the layers of artificial Nice-Guy crap I've built up from childhood. The shouldn'ts and the shame I have subjected myself to lo these many years.

It's one thing to look at hardcore porn and fantasize. It's entirely another to have a partner with whom I can do those things. Who desires me in that way. Who likes porn as much as I do. I really don't have words to express how satisfying and reassuring that has been for me.

I feel like I have been living more.