The return of “S”

Yes.

Can you believe he returned out of the abyss of how many months having passed…..November?

Sending me an email asking how I am doing.

I don’t know why I am shocked, but I am.

Attached with said email was a beautiful song:it was quite beautiful actually.

I think I should dub him the “disappearing man.”

He spoke of existential angst over spending most of his life alone and fear of his mortality.

I wrote back and let him know that his disappearing act and inability to deal with fallout

from discord from his disappearances is a good bet why his has spent most of his life alone.

surprise surprise, he didn’t write back.

*****

On another note “B” left.

After promising not to leave.

After promising not to yell.

After promising he would “never do anything to hurt me.”

Too many promises broken in such a short amount of time should have been a giant red flag right there.

Too many promises broken period.

He told me when he met me, “my word is my bond.”

Then when he has repeatedly broke his word he said, “yes I did, but you had antagonized me and pissed me off.”

apparently for some,  it only turns out that people only keep their word under certain emotional conditions.

wish I was aware of that little caveat

*****

I don’t know who is worse, me for telling my life story in the first five minutes to a man who doesn’t deserve the trust.

or this man who tells me he loves me and won’t hurt me in the first five minutes after hearing it.

*****

But let’s not thump on poor B shall we.  I am no prize package.  I am insecure, clingy, hide my low self-self esteem behind a well practiced false bravado.   My moods swing like a monkey on a chandelier when I don’t get enough sleep.     I should probably just join a monastic sect somewhere, and live Lord of the Flies style, free of the trappings of society with my dildo.

****

the problem is, the trees don’t hug you back on the island……

Times have changed

Young girls have gone from getting knocked-up and getting thrown into homes for unwed mothers back in the 60’s to…

getting knocked-up and not only have mom and dad stay home and raise the child for them while they finish school;

some of these parents let them go out, date, make more babies and stay home and even breastfeed the baby for them.

Isn’t there some sort of middle ground in between the condemnation of the yesteryear and modernism?

WTF?

and while I am on the subject of breastfeeding.

I saw a woman the other day who was breastfeeding her infant child (no problems here so far) but get this, then I see her older child

coming up for a hit too!  Now this kid was old enough to cut a thick steak by themselves?

WTF?

is it just me….

what’s the world coming to.

rant over.

If a=b, and b= c, then it was Incest

I was thinking about the Book of Genesis……Adam and Eve specifically.

Now after Eve bit the apple and everything.

Lots of sex ensued.

Then came Cain and Abel.

From Cain and Abel there were more descendents.  Now, unless there were other indigenous folks kickin’ around those parts back in the day; which there weren’t because the whole premise was that God created only man and woman…. not men and women….

where exactly was the woman who Cain and Abel needed to make their descendents from exactly…..

wouldn’t that be sorta incest with their mother?

Creepy thought #345

*crosses fingers and hopes for indigenous people*

Cave Allegory

There are so many songbirds out there who have departed this world.  Who could sing far better than Whitney.

Buried in unnamed plots.  Perhaps they died by the bottle or the pill.

Do we hear about them all over the fucking news?

No we don’t.

They go unmentioned.  Not even a bell even rings for them.

I tire of hearing about Whitney Houston.

I don’t disrespect her family or their grief.

But for fuck’s sake, really now.

Who really gives a shit whether she had drugs in her system.

Is that really headline news?

I mean is that what people consider newsworthy????!!!

Is that what the sheeple want?

To be spoon-fed sensationalistic bullshit.

*****

This is why I don’t have my TV plugged in.

It sits collecting dust.

Remembering a post I wrote on my other blog several years ago and it seems so timely…

*****

I was thinking about Plato’s

prisoners shackled in front of the parapet

competing to interpret the shadows.

*

Times have changed a bit….

Today’s prisoners are still shackled by apathy

 and now isolation, in front of the TV,

competing to interpret their favorite episodes.

The Invisible Girl

Some days as I drive up the highway I want to cut the wheel and keep on driving.

Past the exit that takes me home.

Past the familiar street signs.

Past everything and everyone I know.

Begin again.

Start over.

Re-invent myself.

****

I  imagine myself in some small town where no one knows my name.

Where no one knows my story.

Build my walls higher and stronger to keep people out, insulate from possible pain.

****

“Hi My name is Sally Somebody, nice to meet you“, I would say.

“I was in a car accident and lost most of my memories.”

Get lost.

At least my external environment would match my internal environment.

****

What would it be like to just leave all of it behind….

 

Blogging: The New Prostitution

Sexy-Blogger_3887-l

There once was a girl from Nantucket

Who wrote her thoughts on a blog and said fuck it.

She let it all rip

and said with a quip,

“If words were a cock I would suck it.”

-Lexiconlover-

We’re all selling something aren’t we….

Some people whine.

Some bitch and rant.

Some write poetry.

Some bloggers stick to philanthropy, trying to “help” others out with their self-actualized knowledge they’ve gained on their way up Maslow’s pinnacle.

Some folks are so heady that they don’t want you to really understand what the fuck they are spinning.

Still others post some one line, inane banter with a shock value photo attached to grab your attention.

Other’s  write of trying to get by day-to-day in a seemingly endless quagmire of bullshit and recovery from a lifelong battle of living in their own personal hell.

Then there are the angels among us.  Those wonderful people I call liquid Prozac.  They are so authentic and just raw, unfiltered, unpretentious folks who lay it out and you can’t help but laugh.

*****

To all my fellow bloggers out there bloglandia,  I raise my glass.

Butterfly

butterfly

I’ve got a new man in my life, “B”.

He’s different from my ex,  the sadist that captured my heart (and still does) and drew me to him like a moth to a flame.

B seems so nice and kind.  He possesses a temperate demeanor.  He continues to dote on me which I am NOT used to.  He listens when I speak.  NOT used to that either.

He buys me small gifts,  takes me out to dinner, lavishes me with affection and attention.  NOT handling that well AT all.  can’t.  Makes me feel like I will end up”owing” him somehow.   I don’t like to “owe” men shit.

****

All of this frightens me and makes me recoil inside, outside I keep up appearances and maintain my usual pleasant demeanor.

****

I feel great trepidation.  You see, men historically have kept hidden agendas with me.  There is always a “quid pro quo” thing at play.   There are always strings attached.  Sexual strings.  And I am ever wondering what B wants from me.  What price I will have to pay? What will I have to “do” in the end?  Is it real?  Is this just another illusion, mirage? another wolf in sheep’s clothing?  It’s like I am flying in a plane with faulty radar that is ill-equipped at detecting incoming missiles.   I went over B’s house and found a home-made sadistic bondage device in his basement right next to his nautilus equipment….yet he says, that he doesn’t feel the need to do BDSM things with me.   I saw his bag of tricks.  The usual stock any Dominant carries.  Basic shit:  ball gags, suspension stuff, crops, floggers, rope, chains, et cetera.

*****

I’ve done BDSM and kink.  I find it more and more difficult not to want to re-engage with him on that level sexually.  There’s this incredible passion and chemistry we have.  But what he didn’t know, is that I am NOT a submissive.   I listed that on my alt.com profile for years, because that was partly true.  There wasn’t a box that could even define what I am.  Switch, no domme/dominatrix? No.  Oh no,  I am his equal and a worthy adversary at that.      I think he thinks, that I am going to kneel before him and whatever.  Pffft.  don’t think so.   He best pray he doesn’t engage with me.   He will get the surprise of his life.  It may well be the end of me and B.    He has major control issues like all dominant’s do.  So do I.  There’s only room for one to drive this ship and it aint gonna be him LOL.

*****

Once upon a time, long ago, I was a butterfly.

In my last relationship with my ex , he tore off part of my wing, so he could keep me in his glass case and look at me anytime he wanted.   Sure it hurt, the sting of his crop and cane, his flogger, his teeth on my flesh.   All the profane things he did.  But I got used to it, because I truly believed that if I did all that, he would love me in the end.   The pain was also lessened too, because I loved him and I loved how he looked at me, how I felt like I was the center of his universe.    Time passed though, and eventually,  he saw something shiny and forgot I was in that case.  Over time, I began to wither.   Then one day he opened the jar and threw me on the grass.  My wing although injured, functioned enough for me to make it off that lawn.

*****

To be with B I feel I’ve let go of how I really am.  I keep it all inside.  He doesn’t know the authentic me.   I am just going through the motions.  Performing perfunctory actions of life as I must because I am so fucking depressed.  Allowing him to shape and mold me into whatever he wants me to become.  Just yesterday he came over and bought me shampoo and conditioner because he felt that I deserve “the best.”  I felt insulted.  “fuck you” I thought to myself, “my hair isn’t good enough for you.”   but that’s not what came out.  “thanks, thanks so much B.”  I feel choked, smothered, suffocated at times.   I feel like a trained pet for his amusement and if I slip up with the script, if I deviate a fucking millimeter, all bets are off.  Oh yeah, and he wants me to call him Daddy.   And the shit kicker is that like a well-trained chimp, I do.

*****

Falling from grace with my shrink and having her see me as…………feeling so ashamed around her.    I can’t tolerate it.  I fucking hate that feeling of burning shame.    Then also, feeling that at any given moment B is about to throw me away if I don’t do things according to his specs; people wonder why I want to run back to my ex LOL.  Sure he’s a sadist asshole, but a predictable asshole.

*****

Step right up and throw your coins down folks and she’ll dance for you…….she’ll dance the night away~