THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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which brings me to the subject of flowers. i hate getting flowers. no shit. i love the thought & the gesture, though. i also love the thrill of seeing a new delivery guy show up w/ the aforementioned flowers (always hoping that the coy little bastard will put out, naturally). but i don't fully comprehend the whole flower schtick. OK, so a guy (or woman or hermaphrodite or troglodyte) is gonna tell me how much he/she/it loves me. they'll pay some third party, a florist or the florist's supplier, to grow a living, beautiful thing & then rip the fucker out of the ground at the peak of its existence. then they take this dying life-form & present it to me so i can sit here for days getting the everlasting shit depressed out of me, watching the once-beautiful flower turn into a fucking corpse. spiffy. maybe i'll go knock a rat in the head & present its still-kicking body to someone as a token of my esteem. same difference. it's fuckin' DEAD, jim. or at least it's going through some fairly impressive death-throes. i can almost hear the collective voice of the flowers, their leafy little souls shrieking for vengeance as they wilt & gasp out their final breath. the vase--their tomb--bears a little heart-shaped card w/ my name inscribed on it. the card resembles nothing so much as a toe-tag from the local homicide morgue. i do love the thought behind the flowers. i'm not a total screaming ingrate. i very much appreciate the people who send me flowers, even if they ARE savagely misguided freaks. but i'd rather have silk flowers. hell, plastic ones will do (& the flexible plastic stems are recyclable for future sadomasochistic interactions. helpful household hint: you haven't lived until you've flogged the piss out of tender young skin w/ the slender & unforgiving stem of a bogus chrysanthemum). i've just stepped out of my aura. the panties & the mood ring are gone, too. now i'm just wearing the grin. |
You rock. |
I would like roses. I'm very common. |
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He's not much into public displays of affection, but sending a big bunch of flowers that he knows will get carried through the whole office, past everyone else, is a very public display of affection. It also makes everyone at work jealous as hell! He even sends flowers for no particular reason, or to cheer me up if I'm having a bad day. When I get them, I feel cherished by the person most important to me. |
i remember one year when six different schmucks gave me flowers on VD (valentine's day--that infamous feeding frenzy for the terminally gullible). that year, i was working in a library. my female co-workers were clucking on like a bunch of silly old hens about all the flowers i got. ridiculous. they were so pathetic. if even one of them had a man who was worth a damn, they'd feel his love even when he wasn't spending money on their shallow ass. anyhow, on the same day, this old friend of mine showed up at my workplace. this guy, who'd left the state about four months earlier to tour w/ a rock band, popped back into town. i didn't know he was coming. he looked fucking great. he looked spectacular, in fact. he was in stage gear. leathers. insanely tight leather pants. he wore no shirt, but a leather vest. believe me when i say that he looked good. he grabbed me & gave me a long, passionate french kiss right in front of all those old biddies. he'd never kissed me before. gawd, i thought those women were going to die. silly jealous twits. anyway, soon enough, the flowers rotted & died in my room & the guy went back to california w/ someone else's scratch marks down his back. i dislike flowers because i hate to see them die. but i also dislike them for the same reason i dislike most so-called "romantic" gestures. they're mere societal expectations. they have nothing to do w/ love. you want flowers? let your manthing go pick them out of someone else's yard for free. displays of money don't equal displays of love. women are forcibly gorged on pseudo-romantic bilge from the time they're little girls. if a man loves you, he'll buy you expensive flowers. he'll give you a big diamond. he'll take you to the finest restaurants. what crap. if he loves you, he fucking well LOVES you. he doesn't have to prove it w/ his wallet. where i live, there are deep forests to the north, south, east & west of me. i'd rather spend an hour walking w/ a lover in the forest for free than make the same guy feel obligated to hand me the equivalent of expensive, societally-approved scooby-snacks. flowers. chocolates. moonlight & roses. bah. well, OK, the moonlight can stay. jettison the rest of it for a decent roadtrip done on the cheap. conversation is king. i'll let other folks keep the flowers. i'll keep the knowledge of a lover's mind & heart. i'll keep the way his eyes sparkle in the twilight. i'll keep the private jokes that have been built up over endless intimate moments. you can have the roses; i'll keep the fierce, intense love. |
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"i dislike most so-called "romantic" gestures. they're mere societal expectations. they have nothing to do w/ love." Me too! Me too! I was just talking about this with a friend of mine! Affection is genuine. Romance is a facade. Valentine's Day is an abomination...a socially constructed artifact designed to make money off the noblest of all virtues: love. Look, it's not the roses that you want. It's the love that goes behind getting the roses. And I don't know about you but I'd rather get a dozen kisses than a dozen roses. |
Hell, I'm tired. Cut me some slack. |
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"And I don't know about you but I'd rather get a dozen kisses than a dozen roses." this sounds so famililar around my house......although i usually find that a dozen of daisies, as is the preference of ma lady, would reveal DOZENS and DOZENS of kisses.......the societal, capitalistic push from the Hall Mark execs is no doubt sick when it comes to holidays like v-day (my wife's bd is on the 13th...WHAM!!! WHAM!!!) . But sometimes it's all right to load up with someone very dear, do the flowers, brisk chilled walk on the sidewalk, arm in arm, floating off that chardonnay you spent way to much on at that so called "french" resturant, be a cheese puff, laugh and then screw like mad.....of course I'm coming from the persepctive of being with the same person for 5+ years...which by the way out of curiosity, how long have you been together? dave & agatha, simon, lawanda, mr. and mrs. beaver anyone else |
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Fantasies count, right? |
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six and a half years, more or less. i am useless today. |
i have a feeling that i don't count. |
it's about expressing your feelings by giving someone else an opportunity to enjoy something solely for its temporal beauty. there's nothing you can hold for very long. |
i love being on the road. it might sound weird, but i get a little thrill whenever i roll into a town i've never seen before. it doesn't have to be a big town. it can be a nowhere little place. it can be out in the sticks. it can be buttfuck, egypt. doesn't matter. actually, i'll be hitting some very familiar roads this week--have made the run down to the gulf many, many times...but it still gives me a thrill. i get a kick over crossing state lines (although i no longer play the bongos in wild abandon every time i do it). i live near 2 state lines & i still feel some weird exotic twinge when i cross them, just realizing that i'm not at home anymore. i traveled like hell across the US when i was a kid. moved frequently. 4 or more different schools in a year, sometimes. it never got old. i still love being on the road. i've lived in the same damn place for over 5 years now. holy shit. i feel like i'm growing moss or something. |
i weep. anyway, i found the following on a message board (naturally, a site inferior to sorabji.com, but then again, what isn't?) i'll reprint it verbatim (typos, questionable grammar & all) just because i thought it was somewhat germane to the whole flower/romance discussion here. remember, i didn't write this thing or insert any of the running commentary: ============= "Check this out. If you think that cut flowers, red roses, and beautiful jewelry are romantic, consider the following from the latest Utne Reader: 'california roses have 1,000 times the level of cancer causing pesticides of comparible food products. Consumers are buying roses that, toxicity levels suggest, should be handled by workers wearing protective gear.' Don't stick your nose in cut flowers!! Or protect yourself by buying organically grown ones. And on the damage caused by gold mining for the jewelry market: 'For every ton of gold the US industry produced today, it also generates 3 million tons of waste rock. an average pair of wedding bands could make a 6 foot x 6 foot x 10 foot pile of tailings in the happy couple's backyard' Not to mention the destroyed land and cyanide that leeches into area groundwater. (cyanide is routinely used in the gold mining process, although some US state are thankfully addressing this aspect) Gold and Silver jewelry are not very romantic when you consider what we do to get them. Of course, they don't mention this on all of those TV and radio ads we are barraged with telling young couples they MUST have the most beautiful wedding set in order to be a REAL happy couple." ============= anyway, there you have it. brought to you courtesy of the utne reader, which i haven't looked at in well over 5 years after they dicked over an editor friend of mine (don't ask--long story that i don't fully know all the details of). in about 30 hours now, i'll be heading toward the beach. let us rejoice. |
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but that's what he asked for. really. i gave him a long backrub, which he also asked for. & i gave him a G.I. joe doll, which he collects avidly. he didn't ask for the doll, but profoundly gushed over it nonetheless. (pardon my error: G.I. joes aren't dolls; they're "action figures". remember that. when a dude plays w/ dolls, they magically turn into "action figures"...) |
Yesterday I told him I listen to his cds in the morning going to school because they remind me of him. It made him gush. I thought that was better than roses. I let him know he's wonderful for me. There's something sexy about having a significant other that understands you. I like making him laugh, observing him, the little things that make him up, turning him on, etc... I want to know what he's like when he's 80 years old. I'd still want to hold his hand. |
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moon: try giving *him* some kind of gift & see if he responds. it's kind of fun to surprise a guy w/ an unexpected gift or gesture & watch him gush over it (if he's the type to do it...if he remains stoic & dull even in the face of a gracious, loving gesture, flush him immediately). men are kind of fun when they get genuinely, spontaneously silly about love. although i hate it when a guy proclaims himself--usually on the first date--as a "hopeless romantic". he might as well come out & speak the truth: "hi, there. i'm a total fucking sap. i'll spend plenty of dough on you. i'll open doors for you & give you meaningless dimestore crap that'll impress all your low I.Q. friends. which oughtta entitle me to a nice, romantic piece of your ass before sunrise." or maybe i'm just cynical. |
"hi, there. i'm a total fucking sap. i'll spend plenty of dough on you. i'll open doors for you & give you meaningless dimestore crap that'll impress all your low I.Q. friends. which oughtta entitle me to a nice, romantic piece of your ass before sunrise." Amen and hallelujah! I'm not the only one who thinks this! Is your husband of the same mind, Crimson? Because if so....damn, you're lucky. |
I don't care if the flowers are expensive or whatever, but I know that he goes to some effort to send them, since he doesn't have a credit card, he can't just ring and order them. Usually he sends a mixed bouquet, which is good because roses don't last long compared with other flowers. But I would be just as happy if he bought some food i like or picked some flowers for me. I'm not into expensive jewelry, the few piece he has bought for me have been simple, mass produced items. I love my timy, delicate engagement ring. It is in proportion to the rest of me! The best thing about getting flowers at work is the distraction from the daily, mundane stuff that occupies your mind when you're working. |
He's incredibly hard to buy for. I have asked him to make me a list of things he wants for xmas so I can choose something off the list. When I know he has no money and he refuses to let me give him any I usually bring him home some ciggys or beer. I am nice. |
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What was I going to say about roses? Ohyea! When I was in the sixth grade my whole class spread these rumors that our teacher was dating these two female teachers in the school. One taught kindergarden downstairs, and the other taught grade five next door. One day the teacher next door had roses delivered to her at school and my whole class went nuts gossiping that they were from Our teacher. He never denied anything. For those who care, if you follow the rumor mill, it would seem he ended up with the kindergarden teacher. Did I misspell kindergarden? |
I used to have a huge crush on the young master utne, a classmate of mine at uw. he had beautiful long blond hair, and one time we were hanging out and getting stoned with a friend of ours, and he fell asleep, and I touched it. |
i have never been given flowers now that i think of it. It doesn't bother me, but i HAVE gotten, limo rides, lap dances, bottles of makers mark, pot brownies, sexy notes written on napkins, sexy notes written on flesh (hehe!!), and had my body painted for various valentines days and such...body painting, NOW theres a good time,,,,just avoid the cliche "SNAKE" painting, talk about humuliating |
but NO bottle of maker's mark. you may all mourn in unison. the last limo ride, i barely remember. i was too loaded. i opened my eyes & there was this insanely tall drag queen applying a veritable bucket of lip gloss to her unnaturally oversized mouth & blathering on to some goth dude wearing a fur hat about how she wouldn't suck marilyn manson's cock on a bet. the brownies. holy crap. i never believed that they'd work. i've had 'em before & they never did all that much. but this one time, i dunno...must've been strong. i ended up on the carpet, dressed only in my underwear, grooving to a mel torme record. it was intense. strangest napkin note i've ever gotten was given to me by a junkie. actually, he gave it to my husband by mistake. he was stoned & confused. the note said something about how he wanted to go down on me, but deeply respected me for my intellect. every word in the note, save for "pussy" was spelled incorrectly. i'm packing my bags. about 6 1/2 hours & i'm headed out on the 600+ mile cruise. |
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then, one year, this lonely dyke invited me to her apartment for the holiday. a local druggie showed up, too. so the 3 of us had a nice, peaceful meal together. it dawned on me then, as if it shouldn't have many years earlier, that thanksgiving doesn't have to be traumatic. so now, when i'm in town, i cook for my REAL family--the friends i've gathered to myself. i serve dinner at 2:00 AM. it's extremely peaceful. when i'm on the road during the holiday, i'll sometimes have a grilled chicken sandwich at waffle house. the waitress invariably fusses over me & wonders why i'm not w/ my family. "i AM with my family," i observe, pointing to my husband, who's always sitting across the booth from me. since when did "family" = mob? this year, i'll have yet another beautiful, laid-back thanksgiving. if i make it back alive, i'll tell you about it. |
Hope the weather isn't too nasty for the drive up. I'll be back here tomorrow night perhaps to let you know I 'm not spending t-day in a ditch. |
But, umm..defensive much? |
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it's like we stocked up for the snow in or something, but its in the low 80s for the high today so X that.. we have two oil cans of fosters, 2 bottles of wine, one cabernet and one chardonnay, 5th of Jack with coke to match and a 5th of skyy with cranberry juice to boot... oh and one large turkey, breast only of course.... |
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i had a blast. made several runs between mississippi & florida. got my picture taken in front of a gigantic concrete shark. visted a nice cemetery. spent a lot of time wading in the surf & generally feeling groovy. & now, i'm sitting here cooking the thanksgiving dinner that i had postponed during my absence. after scarfing down the yummies, i'm going to get loaded beyond all human comprehension. after that, i'll likely resurface to leave some sort of yammering, silly psychobabble somewhere online. maybe even here. and now, it's time to watch cartoons, swill some rum & wait for the bird to get done...which will take a bit longer than previously anticipated, since some putz walked by a while ago & felt it was his civic duty to turn off the oven just for the hell of it. |
I'm not counting all the little cartoons like Charlie Brown and Frosty (and Garfield - that's my favorite one) that tons of people watch every year. Just the stuff that I assume most people don't want to watch. Have any of you people ever seen the Tick's christmas episode? It's possible there may be more than one, cuz I understand they kept showing new episodes in the US when they stopped showing it here. I'm talking about the one where the Tick thinks he killed Santa. Oh man, is that good stuff. Tonight they showed Bugs Bunny's christmas special, Pinky & The Brain (Brain is so cute when he's reading Pinky's letter), Animaniacs, Frosty and Frosty Returns. I think Winnie the Pooh and/or Mickey Mouse's Christmas Carol are on tomorow. I guess I have a lot to say about christmas cartoons. I really enjoy them. ps...I used to watch "Family Ties" ALL THE TIME when I was little because I had a crush on Michael J. Fox. I never realized until recently how really funny Michael Gross (who played the father) was. Seeing his reaction to MJF's gift of a cup of coffee was priceless. |
i regret that i can't add to the extensive & magnificent commentary on christmas cartoons provided above, because i'm simply too wrecked. i know myself well enough to realize that even thinking of jolly ol' saint nick right now could be enough to paralyze what few brain cells i have left. have you ever had weird moments when the whole tinsel-decorated, ornament-laden, overly-commercialized, candy cane-sucking christmas scene is enough to give you the fucking hives? or am i just being peculiar, again? i mean, OK. i've still got an inner child & everything. yeah, i'm hip to the whole childlike xmas wide-eyed wonder gig. & it would be downright politically incorrect of me not to admit that there's part of me that still wants to sit on santa's lap. but then again, i've had a lingering fear that i'll just do what i did when i was 14 & sat on santa's lap at a local mall one time. i purposely gave him a raging boner. then i propositioned him, just for the hell of it. no, really. i fucked a mall santa. i did it in a public park, before the sun went down. people saw us. in retrospect, how i avoided arrest is a complete mystery. we were seen by a number of passers-by. but i was too wasted to care. i laid santa--now just some black-haired local dude w/ a 5 o' clock shadow--down in the grass & fucked him raw. it was festive. well, i just came in to say "hi". all of your stoned/drunken/brainless confessions are welcome below. now, please tell me that you've done something lower than porking santa claus... |
p.s. I had a porn flick called "Santa Cums But Once A Year" It had naked midgets (elves) running around fucking Mrs. Claus. It was very funny, but I loaned it out and never got it back. |
we have pictures of my parents trying to encourage me to go sit on his lap... i'm always crying hysterically santa, clowns, marionettes (bad, very bad) |
if I had run into him there and if he had asked me what I was doing, I had planned to tell him that I came to get my photo taken with santa but the line was too long so I was just going to get a lemonade from hot dog on a stick. plausible. |
Don't any of you people like Christmas cartoons?? |
after that- not cartoons but i like the other whatever kind of animation things like frosty the snowman and whatever rudolph one- they are actually quite scary |
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Just thought you weren't gettin' enough attention on this thread... |
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it may be time to bring out.......you know..... THE HEAD! that racket is long gone, and the balls have been kicked so hard they resemble two prunes waiting for an 80+ year old colon.... |
a friend brought over this pornflick. i watched it. i wasn't aroused & didn't even get close (not saying that porn can't ever arouse me...just saying that this one didn't exactly jumpstart my hormones). however, it contained something that most porn films seem to have: a lesbian scene. now, here's where i've got a few questions. it's not that i have a problem w/ women munching each other's crotches up close & in technicolor. that's cool. but WHY do all these flicks seem to inevitably feature women fucking around w/ each other, but lack similar scenes in which the guys suddenly drop to their knees & start spontaneously giving each other head (or kissing, or touching or whatever)? when i'm in the mood to see male-on-male, it's pretty slim pickings (outside of the gay video section--or better still, goading boys into coming over here & doing it for me live). but why is this? demographics? well, maybe. many pornflicks are, of course, pitched to straight guys. but women watch them, too. i know a woman who writes the damn things. but there's a limit, you know? not everything in the entire mainstream porn industry has to be pitched to drooling, quasi-retarded frat boys. let the deviation begin. if the inevitable "lesbian" scene (which has little to do, in my opinion, w/ any homoerotic experience i've ever personally seen or engaged in) were taken out of the next pornflick i pick up & replaced w/ two men going at it, i think i'd stand up & cheer. then again, it would probably just get turned into something brute-level & stupid, as so many porn scenes do. somebody once showed me a couple of flicks being marketed as "women's porn". yecch. so the bimbo gets "romanced" before she gets thrown down on the bed & fucked in front of a blurry camera to the swelling of cheesy synthesized muzak. blah. i think i'd rather see the normal shit. but then again, have you ever noticed how many men talk down to the women they're fucking in these films? the first time i hear "bitch" roll out of a guy's mouth or hear him start barking orders, i might as well have been kicked in the groin. it's guaranteed to kill my libido instantly. to whom could that kind of talk possibly be attractive? the truth is, i don't watch all that much porn. i've never bought a porn tape in my life. but it gets given to me sometimes. for instance, a friend of mine is a porn reviewer for magazines. he gets porn tapes in the mail every damn day. he's drowning in them. occasionally, something so odd lands on his desk that he sends it to me for free. anyway, i'm not exactly a porn connoisseur. but in my early teens, i lived near two porn theatres & got in w/ no hassles. from that time on, i've seen enough of these films to recognize the basic patterns--patterns in which male homoerotica doesn't really seem to be part of the plan. what a pity. i realize that some guys would likely have the same objections to this entire issue that women often have: that same-sex interactions are neither for the cheap voyeuristic consumption nor prurient amusement of straights (actually, i'm a switch hitter myself, so i'm not sure where i fit into that whole scenario). still, i understand the basic problem of sexual politics & don't really need a lecture on that point. all i'm saying is that since all this onslaught of pseudo-lesbian porn exists as a matter of daily routine (including magazine spreads as well as films), then why not turn it around more frequently & let the men get in on the action? or am i in the minority here? am i the only person left who thinks that watching a couple of guys roll around in bed (or optimally, jumping in & rolling around w/ them) would an interesting way to spend an otherwise dull evening? |
I haven't seen a porno since college. Of course, when you live in a dorm, you see your share of porn flicks, even blare the audio through massive CV speakers, but the only one I rememebr was one of teh "Parody pronos" called BlackMan. it was a takeoff of Batman. The villan was called the Poke r (a white guy, for those interested in dualism). The only thing I remeber about it was that Blackman drove around in a BITCHIN firebird, and one scene where he arrives at teh scene of a kidnapping and knocks on teh door. The guy inside says in a perfect imitation of Eddie Murphy in that SNL skit -"WHO IS IT?" "iT'S ME- bLACKMAN/" "oH, COME ON IN bLACKMAN." (I could go back and retype that, but you understand) So, all I rememeber about porno are the funny bits. |
i guess if i have a porn preference at all, it's simply for the bizarre or offbeat. i have a short british piercing video that's kind of fun to whip out when company comes over. it makes 'em squirm. sadomasochistic jollies galore & far too many needles run though women's breasts & genitals. the guy doing the piercings is an inadvertently amusing little twit. i guess that my post above may have seemed a bit odd, looking back over it. but i do wonder about porn marketing strategies. i mean, sure, they're making money. they know what they're doing. but the questions linger...including my eternal question about why the guys in most porn films are so butt-ugly. |
I've never seen a porno. I like the idea of two men going at it, as well. I'm not sure why. Okay, I am sure why. I like the idea of two straight dudes going at it. I like it because the idea that someone would forget everything else in the name of sex is interesting to me. (interesting may not be the exact right word...) In theory it's what I like, but in practice it may be different. Also: When boys say things like "bitch" and other naughty things...if they say it right....I really like that. Slut mode OFF. |
i still don't know about the whole "bitch" thing, though. OK, i have a couple of friends who might jokingly say something like that to me in a light-hearted manner. but anything of that nature, when said in even a vaguely serious way, is an extreme turn-off. which is kind of weird, because i'll call a guy pretty much whatever he wants (yes, i'm a sexist pig). he can be my whore, my bitch, my slut or anything else. but if he addresses me w/ disrespect, i'll blacken his fucking eyes. which is why i have tend to stick to submissives. any male behavior that's even remotely "macho" utterly disgusts me. i'd sooner make it w/ an effeminate male than a self-proclaimed stud. although, oddly enough, a butch woman is fine (i'm not attracted to "femme" women). still, though, i don't take any crap from my bedmates--male, female or otherwise. someone wants to be my bitch? fine. let 'em get on their fucking knees & act the part right. but that shit doesn't work the other way around. ever. |
"which is why i tend to stick to submissives." but you fine people know what i meant. my questionable typing skills are at a brand new low this morning. my eyes aren't quite focused. sitting here enjoying some cheese popcorn for breakfast (& sharing it w/ a rodent). the gerbil & i do breakfast together sometimes. right now, we're talking about politics. she's an anarchist. i woke up w/ a nosebleed. i dreamed i was in a cemetery. which is fine. i spend far too much time in cemeteries in real life. i love hanging out w/ the dead. are there any cool/weird cemeteries you like spending time in? whenever i hit a new town, i like to check out the graveyards. i'm kind of odd that way. see ya after i get some caffeine. |
yeah, sem is right, people who BUY porno want to see two girls going at it a lot more than two men. You said it yourself, *you have never bought porno...* you are not the targeted audience...and generally speaking i think women watching porn in a proactive way with their man or woman (or without) is a relatively new thing....due to womens lib, women today are more comfortable with their sexuality, they have demanded orgasms and are generally more liberal.....you being a good example... I too find the lack of emotion and the "ohhhhs" and "ahhhhhs" rather lackluster and frankly nothing turns me off more than to see a woman NOT enjoying herself when she should. I inherently feel slimy....... The mainstream is not ready to see two guys fucking....you can blame your local church for that mentality, the double standard, how many men who watch porn on the weekends "with" the wife also attend church tha sunday in which the congregation demonizes homesexual behavior???? When I worked for a video dist. co, we also had a video store below, in our porn section we had straigh, bi, gay, lesbian. I live in a primarily gay neighborhood...so the lesbian section was actually had pretty *true* lesbian flicks....leather bull dykes and all.......they are out there, but they are indeed a small faction, san francisco hass a lot of female sex positive people, comapnies and such.. Good Vibrations being one of them.....i saw a porn recently that we got from someone here at work...called Bend Over Boyfriends "...straight men who like anal sex and their girlfriends who love to give it to them.." it was pretty silly, but came from a small comapny that is very pro-fem and sex positive.....honestly thought, the participants looked as uncomfortable as the mainstream porn... |
initially, the reference to women watching porn w/ a man threw me off for just a second (although you did mention women watching it alone, as well) just because i'm so used to watching the shit alone most of the time. watching porn w/ a man for arousal isn't really something i do much. i do watch it w/ buddies sometimes for a joke, though. if i watch it w/ another party, it's almost always for a cheap laugh. anyway, i almost never watch porn w/ the sound on. those god-awful fake orgasmic noises are like nails on a chalkboard. when i was in my early teens, those fake orgasm overdubs flipped me out. i thought that's how you were supposed to sound during sex & that i must be doing it wrong, because i wasn't making noise. so i tried it the next time i got laid. the guy i was with--some military man--went berserk. he shook me hard, knocked the shit out of me & screamed at me to shut the fuck up. he told me that if i kept acting "unladylike" that he was going to beat the hell out of me. i was in either 8th or 9th grade then. i was into my adult years before i ever dared to make noise during sex again. when i look back at my youth, i can't believe i took all the shit that i did. i thought i had to. there are moments when i wish i could jump into a time machine & kick more than a few motherfuckers in the groin. but that's hindsight for ya. |
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although i have gotten laid while wearing my shoes. but not often. i always think it's amazing that strippers dance while wearing high heels. & it's even more amazing & ridiculous that beauty pageants have swimsuit competitions in which the contestants are wearing high heels. when's the last time you wore stiletto heels to the beach? |
I think I have three matching sets right now. I haven't worn any of them yet. I think I'm saving them. |
the two most interesting pieces of lingerie i've got are: (1) a silver sequin teddy given to me by a transvestite. it's an interesting little garment. when i was w/ my last band, i stripped down to it onstage once. it was an outdoor show, cold as hell. i had also forgotten how loose the teddy was & had to exert a bit of effort to keep my breasts from falling out of the low-cut top. i was trying to keep everything in there because i'd already been in trouble once for onstage nudity & i could see that a bunch of extra cops had just shown up. (2) a pink one-piece number that looks like something a ballerina would wear. it's got a big mass of pink gauze & lace at the bottom, which is cut high & extremely short. it's outrageous. nobody should own an outfit like that, but of course, i do. still trying to summon the balls to wear it out in public. i've also stolen various undergarments from men (boxers, briefs, etc) that i wear around just for the hell of it. i tend to steal men's clothes in general. they're a lot more comfortable. |
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i think if there were a sorabji fest, it would be centered around a large primal cage, a bonfire, and a stage for live music...there are so many god damn musicians here we could rock 24/7 and still get a good nites sleep....... |
or ass. or just good old T&A. there are people who like to mentally chop up a woman's anatomy like a butcher chops up a carcass. so, one is either an "ass man" or a "tit man". who gives a sweet goddamn what else (like a cerebellum) the woman might have? naturally, this works the other way around, too. i'm as guilty as anyone else. in this great scheme of things, i'm an ass man. or actually, an ass woman. see, i don't really care about a guy's tits at all. it doesn't matter what he's packing under his shirt. except that male nipples can be kinda fun to nibble when you're loaded. i don't get men's obsession w/ female breasts. to me, they're not especially exciting. they kinda just get in the way, if you know what i mean. yeah, i've sucked 'em & felt 'em, but it never really aroused me all that much...although they're all right to pass out drunk on sometimes. however, i can say w/ all certainty that i don't like silicone. fake tits just gross me out. my apologies to fans or bearers of scientifically enhanced tits, but holy smoke, they give me the creeps. my best friend, a dyke, told me that i probably don't dig tits simply because i have the damn things myself. she's an ass woman, too. she says that because she has a flat ass, she goes after women who are a little more shapely in that department. her whole theory is that we desire that which we don't have ourselves. for instance, a small-hung gay guy might like big dicks. a woman who's a bodybuilder might like a less muscular woman. or a woman might turn straight because she's lacking in the cock department & thinks one might be interesting. have you ever sexually desired something that you, yourself, actually possess? anyway, i'm an ass-woman. so, gentlemen, make a note of it. have a nice ass or die. thanks. but i'm crazy for eyes, too. i have to look at a guy's eyes. i don't care if he's blind, either. i just want to see the eye area. i want to know what's there. intense eyes turn me on. & i'm talking about eyes as an indicator of the soul, not as actual sexual orifices. OK, i could put on a strap-on & fuck a dude's eyesockets if i really felt like it, but why? what part of the body do you like? don't say "the whole thing". that's so smarmy & politically correct. go ahead & be a blatant hog like everyone else & carve up the anatomy into bite-sized portions. it's OK. |
if we were all to start jamming, i wonder what kind of music would come out. there are so many influences here. as for myself, i'm a rock n' roll dinosaur. i've got a strong dose of gospel, blues & bluegrass in my background, but i mostly play rock...often metal. i like music to be as dark & heavy as possible. which kind of drives jazz people berserk. i've played in jazz combos for bucks, but honestly, it bored the tits off me. well, OK. i can occasionally get into old chestnuts like brubeck (caught one of his shows here), that sort of thing. stan kenton, maybe. & we all know that mel torme & gene krupa are sitting at the right hand of god. but that's all mainstream shit. vanilla. i was laughed down at college for not being educated enough to be a jazz snob. i tried my best to dig all the chick corea albums people kept shoving in my face, but i just really couldn't get it up for that shit. i've also played classical (for years). you could find me in the first chair, pretending that i could actually read music. i faked them all out. i had a shitload of music scholarships. i did everything on sheer instinct. i hear everything in bass tones. i almost always know where the bass is going just a split second before it actually gets there. then i jump on it. anyway, i'm a musical buffoon. but maybe somebody could jam w/ me anyway & produce something interesting. i'd definitely give it a try. truthfully, i'm a technological idiot. but i do have a tape recorder. i always thought it'd be kinda cool if i could tape off a guitar riff or drum loop or something & send it to someone i've never seen before. then they'd send me back their ideas. we'd jam long distance. we'd eventually record. after the recording's finished, we'd actually meet & knock back a few beers together. i know that people do this shit all the time. rush did a whole album that way in the '80s, i think, & people were doing it way the hell before that. but the whole concept is still be a thrill for a no-tech schmuck like myself. forget about the fancy shit. no slick production necessary. it could come out sounding like the studio equivalent of two cavemen clacking rocks together. i just think the cross-pollination of ideas would be intense, that's all. |
For some reason, I also like it when men have hair on their forearms. Some men don't, and I think that's kind of weird. But if I liked someone and they had hairless arms, I wouldn't hold it against them. |
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Brubeck toned down bebop for the white critics, now i love brubeck but he was certainly not an innovator. Same goes for Stan Kenton and chick corea? fuck that guy is as fasciating as watching grass grow...........i can recommend others worth your time but i suspect you already know of who i would suggest. I like hips, smaller breasts, fake ones do indeed suck, i like a full figure, no ally mcbeal types, ass is also great, heart shaped asses are the best....... |
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yeah it would be interesting have the likes of sorabji, swine, nate, sem, me, you, rhi and anyone else i have overlooked in big ass band stand. We could parade through your hometown arkansa!!!!!!! |
it's workable. |
I can play my yellow blow up guitar like a god. I won it at time out on the weekend. |
yeah, boys in tight jeans. i'll second that. & i forgot, i think, to mention lips. some people have these little bitty scrawny lips. how spooky. i like nice, full lips. not freakishly large, of course, but just beautiful & full. lips that can be nibbled, bitten, chewed & sucked. lips that can be worshipped in their own right. |
If so was it a compliment or a complaint? :o) |
um, sorry. it wasn't me. but if it was, it would've been a compliment. |
I also threw out all my blah underwear and now I only wear stuff I really like. it's more fun this way. |
This other is from crimsonashe@webtv.net(so.cal.featherwood) and merely stated, "You are one sick fuck" I appreciate the compliment:o) but wonder who it is. |
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however, i don't think you're a sick fuck. but then again, i could be wrong. =) |
I'm saving my matching sets for when someone gets to see them. Who knows when that will be? |
but then i'd have to kidnap somebody to show them off to. hubby's just not a lingerie kind of guy. the stuff bores him, as does most typically "girly" stuff (which usually bores me, as well). i personally find the more frilly/lacy lingerie uncomfortable as hell. makes me itch. the fancy nighties are right out, too--can't sleep in them. so it's probably not as sexy, but i'd rather just sleep in one of my oversized T-shirts, or perhaps nothing at all. what do you sleep in? i usually sleep in a T-shirt & sox. always sox. my feet are chronically cold. no need to torment my bed-buddies w/ my icy little feet. there were two boys hanging around outside my window at about 4:00 this morning. just some local punks hanging out & quietly talking. a blonde & a dark-haired kid. for a brief moment, i just wanted to lure them onto the back porch, lay them down & fuck their lights out. there's no point to relating this. it was an interesting moment, that's all. just a random desire to spread happiness among my fellow humans. also, i kinda like waking up w/ my libido actually functioning. |
i rarely sleep in anything, whats the point? If you are cold, throw another blanket on and leave a pair of pants by the bed for an emergency.....(being prone to earthquakes and paranoid of fires, this is essential)otherwise a shirt gets all twisted around and such , as do boxers, and the idea of sleeping in some sort of long johns is just silly....plus when you have someone else there, it's just much much better to be NEKID, you know what i am talking about crimson, right? and Anyone else with sig other...for that matter |
I didn't start wearing nice lingerie all the time until this summer. but it's so great. it feels good to be all fully put together, I guess. I like to be able to go around thinking, "I could take my clothes off right now and I'd look really good." anyway. I used to think matching underwear was prissy, but now I realize it's sexy. underwear is an important part of an outfit. but maybe I should be more ashamed about taking off my clothes. maybe I should start wearing faded old fraying cotton underwear just to keep myself in check. |
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what kind of underwear do girls find good for boys? My wife liked the boxer briefs for a while, then i ditched underwear all together....now she is talking about buying me some of the.....not sure of the exact term, but they are in between speedos and briefs, as far as size and fit....she says they would be sexy, i don't see the appeal, but again, anything for the girl.... |
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but i'm partial to boxers. i wear 'em myself on occasion. i also used to wear men's briefs sometimes when i was dressing in drag more. i can tell you this--men's undies are a hell of a lot more comfy than women's. during a period in my teens when my tranvestism went hardcore & chronic, i couldn't stand the thought of wearing female garments, even underneath my clothing. but then a lesbian buddy of mine gave me some amazing undergarments that were just too fun not to wear. novelty underwear for chicks. the only kind that proved to be disastrous were the several pairs that zipped straight up the front. i zipped myself up in them several times. not just my fur, either, but my actual skin. decidedly not a Good Thing (TM). nothing quite like a hobbling, frantic, cursing teenager w/ a little piece of her own genitalia trapped between the vicious, unforgiving teeth of a silver zipper. still makes me walk funny just thinking about it. |
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i once pulled a gag on that chick who gave me the zip-up panties. there was this guy we knew. he was an utterly repulsive little toad w/ greasy hair & garlic breath. he used to sit in class popping his zits all the time, right out in the open. every class period, he'd whip out this little mirror, prop it up on his desk & start popping zits. when school photos came out, he gave my friend & i his picture, as if we really wanted a lingering reminder of this yammering, acne-ridden fool. i saved the picture. i waited. about half a year later, while my buddy was showering, i taped the guy's picture face-up to the crotch of her panties. she was in a major rush to get ready & put them on w/o even noticing. a few hours later, she got an infernal itching in the groin. she went to the restroom. when she saw the picture, she ended up laughing herself hoarse. it totally derailed her day. she wasn't good for anything else for the next 12 hours but laughing hysterically at the memory of Eric The Zitbag staring winsomely from the crotch of her fruit-of-the-looms. |
Along with having a snake coming up from a toilet while I'm on it. WHOA!!!!!!!!! |
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in retrospect, i was a chump. i zipped myself up several times like that. you'd think that i'd have figured it out after the first time, but noooo...it took several painful lessons to conclude that zip-up panties are not a gift from god. |
the start of the year 2000 is sort of going to be like the end of youth for me. at least that is what I am saying to justify my smoking out in the bathrooms of taverns that have warning signs about illegal drugs and being permanently 86'ed. today I started reading a book of martin amis essays, and in two of them he used forms of the word "Brobdingnag." what the hell is that about? |
played some new music for friends last night. nothing too involved, just some new shit i've been writing. people were so enthused about it that it blew my mind. made me start writing even more material. i woke up feeling weirdly joyous & glad to be alive. i'm always kind of enthused about the whole breathing gig, but just a little more so today. alive, happy, horny, creative & craving chinese food. but i still have no matching underwear. |
Brobdingnagian Colossal; tall as a church steeple. “Limbs of Brobdingnagian proportions" |
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he may have also used to word "Brobdingnagian" to describe nicholson baker's physical appearance. I met nicholson baker once. I'd never read any of his silly books. but he was tall and famous and I'd had a few glasses of comp wine, so I went up and stood too close to him and asked him to sign an old children's book I'd just found in a free box. he almost refused. he said it was far too pretty a book to write in. I said, "please?" then he did. |
i had a dream that i was being serviced by a fairy--not one of the smiling gents who gives blowjobs behind the YMCA, but an actual tiny, winged figure. how an entity so small could be erotically interesting is beyond me, but i woke up w/ my hand on my groin. however, when i opened my eyes, the fairy was gone, and i was alone. nonetheless, the fairy dream was a vaguely interesting diversion for an otherwise pointless sunday morning. now i'm sitting here appeasing the caffeine gods, thinking about scoring some lunch. spouse is at the movies. storm's rolling in. the goose, mephisto, is frantically honking at some damned thing or another. sometimes, people drive by here just to purposely piss him off. anytime a car horn honks, mephisto goes berserk. so people will drive by here, stop right in the middle of the road & lay on the horn, just to get the goose wound up into a manic frenzy (an act that starts losing its humor factor at around 2:00 AM). drunks also like to get out of the car & scream at the goose. what's more, i live next to a train track. mephisto honks loudly at the train, every damn day. no matter how many trains come through here, it's the same damn routine. when the train finally passes, the goose struts around proudly for a while, totally full of himself, as if he's personally & singlehandedly frightened off the train. christ, ten thousand things to talk about online, & i'm sitting here babbling about geese. i DO need more caffeine. |
Crimson, geese or no geese I enjoy your stories, carry on please. |
it came on last night. first I let this guy get me stoned, take me to a movie, take me out for chicken tarragon with portobello mushrooms, then out for fancy wine and tiramisu. then I went over to a second guy's apartment for a few hours. I took photos of him because he's beautiful. then I went out and met up with a third guy. we were in a late-night bistro around 3:30 a.m. and that's when I realized I was sick. which was too bad because I was also feeling really cordial. I knew we wouldn't fight. I even came close to saying nice things to him, but the music was loud and my throat hurt. |
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i'm so sleepy i could just fall over. hubby & i don't fight at all. we're too damn lazy. fighting would actually take effort. fuck that. i think we've had 3 "arguments" or something in 10 years. two of them were over within under 5 minutes. i can't remember what they were about. i wouldn't really even call them arguments at all. we've never raised our voices to one another, ever. that, too, would take effort. |
yeah but could he use it? I was reading in the Dan Savage column about gay men and large peckers. On average gay men have larger penises that straight men. This may hve been a study by the Kinsey Inst. but i don't recall. |
i lived w/ him for a while. then i found out that he'd been busy giving blowjobs for ten bucks a pop while i was at work supporting his ass. he turned out to be total psychocandy. he was truly evil, & not because of the blowjobs. a good time was NOT had by all. anyway, back to dick size. truth is, i don't like 'em too big. ironically, one of the best lays i've ever had was from a guy w/ an 3" dick. he knew what to do w/ it. smallest one i ever saw was on a hermaphrodite. i've fucked a number of gay guys (please, folks--no lectures on the difference between gay & bi; i'm saying that i've fucked gay guys). anyway, as i recall, they actually were quite well-endowed. i had this lesbian roommate when i was about 17. she decided one day that she wanted to lose her virginity to a man. i called a gay friend. she banged him. afterward, she talked about how wonderful he'd been (while she was busy losing her cherry, i was at a porn theatre on a 3-way date). i was so impressed by her story that i decided to get a piece of his ass, myself. i did. yummy. but then, the lesbian got jealous as hell. she screamed at me. she slapped my face. she said the slap was not only for that incident, but for causing one of her girlfriends to become attracted to me (which was totally unintentional). |
& i've got a new guitar. a friend of mine had bought a new guitar & then immediately regretted it. it was a frivolous expenditure. so he turned around & sold it at a serious sacrifice price. now it's MY frivolous expenditure. the pickups on my other guitar are fried, so the timing's right. now i'll have something to play while the ibanez is being repaired. started writing a 60s-type pyschedelic piece, complete w/ cheesy organ. spouse says it sounds like the theme to some kind of retro cop show. that may or may not be an insult. ever had one of those annoying moments when you end up writing a riff (or a poem or any creative venture) that inadvertently imitates something that's been written before? in the past, i've unintentionally written fragments of music that were accused of sounding like (a) guns n' roses (b) nine inch nails (c) strawberry alarm clock (d) jaco pastorius. i really had no intention of doing any of that. a loose riff must've gotten lodged in my head somehow & ended funneling out through my guitar during a songwriting session. in such a case, i try to turn around & dig up the song in question, listen hard, & then erase any possible connection between that song & my own. i don't intend to rip anybody off. trying to write some loud, distortion-heavy noise to go w/ a drum track. it's gonna be brutal. a nice fist-up-the-ass kinda tune that can still be danced to...provided that you're on enough drugs. |
I buy it. I once wrote a poem, and I thought it was the neatest thing I had ever written, until I realized it had been "inspired" by a Leonard Cohen poem. I can't remember how his went, except that it was about a head rolling onto a beach or something and the last line was "...YOUR COMPLETED MONSTER, LORD" in caps and all. My poem involved the image of the moon rolling onto someone's headless shoulders, and the last line was "so pleased to know at last I am a complete monster." I thought it sounded kind of familiar when I wrote it. But screw it. It's a good poem. It's not about the same thing that the Cohen poem was about. It took me a few weeks to even figure out what I was talking about, because the poem had kind of erupted from my head without my help. And who reads obscure Leonard Cohen except me and a handful of others? And you, too, Crimson. If your song's good, who cares if it's ripped off? It's not even ripped off, since you don't do it on purpose. Paul Valery, the surrealist (dadaist?) poet, said there's no use in trying to come up with anything original anymore, since it's all been said. His point? Just come up. Just write anyway and don't worry if it's been said and by whom. And retro cop show theme songs are cool (didn't "Mike Hammer" use "Harlem Nocturne" as its theme?)...so that was probably a compliment you were handed. |
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i recorded a song a few years ago (i didn't write it; a bandmate did). it sounded vaguely like a well-known song. just the intro. not a direct steal or anything...just enough to make people scratch their heads & wonder why it sounded vaguely familiar. anyway, i played w/ it a little. i ended up singing one of the verses entirely in latin. i added backup vocals, also in latin. i think it confused people...there was this heavy guitar crunch, suddenly compounded by a twisted quasi-operatic fool bellowing in latin. it probably wasn't even grammatically correct latin. just something i remembered from a song i had to sing in school as a kid. it was from memory. it just happened to fit into the song like a perfect little puzzle piece. it had just the right number of syllables. which is my key to writing lyrics. i don't even try to make linear sense anymore. i'm just shopping for the right number of syllables to match what i've already written. i do try to make it creative, vicious or surreal as possible, but when i need 3 syllables, nothing else will do. i once wrote lyrics w/ a head full of ny-quil while watching the 3 stooges. such meaningful words have never before been written in the history of mankind. i'm still recovering from the breakup of my last band. it was pretty emotional. sometimes, the breakup of a band can be worse than the breakup of a relationship. i guess, in many ways, it IS a relationship, if you care for the fuckers at all. i've met a lot of guys who've boasted about being in bands w/ people they hate. "i don't hafta like 'em--i just hafta PLAY w/ them," they said. well, i've definitely played w/ people i don't like. but i know i can do better than that. i've seen such god-awful egos in bands & there's just no reason for it. to me, being a musician doesn't give you a license to treat other people like shit. i've already figured out one thing: next band i'm in, the only ego case allowed is going to be ME. |
playing loud, heavy music is one of the few pursuits that can make me feel like a total fucking god, even if in the confines of my own living room. in fact, that's where i sometimes feel it most. standing there in my own space, closing my eyes, leaning my head back & feeling some great invisible audience watching me. suddenly losing myself in the music. dancing & swaying. or better still, tearing around the living room like some demon-possessed freak, leaping & headbanging, grinding & posturing, pulling out all the best moves--& then realizing that the imaginary audience is actually my dumbfounded & somewhat frightened landlord, having unexpectedly popped by to fix the heater. STILL no matching lingerie here. but i'm wearing some nifty lavender-&-pink panties. in some countries, this color combination is probably illegal. |
anyway, i'm still playing guitar. oh, i've taken a few breaks since the last post, but i'm still writing music. working on a lead guitar line now. i'm sitting here working, writing music, drafting a letter & banging out fiction, all more or less simultaneously. i'm a jerk of all trades. i woke up to discover that hubby had put up the christmas tree. all of a sudden, it DOES feel a bit more like xmas in here. i actually hung up 4 ornaments myself (yes, that's over-extending for me). they're old-world looking ornaments decorated with carved shards of a broken mirror. exceedingly sparkly. i've already received most of my holiday gifts, although there are a few more waiting in the wings. i made out like a fucking bandit this year. for the stack of presents alone, i can almost muster some christmas cheer. and now, it's time to go kill something for breakfast. |
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Opps...sorry...no comma......never mind. |
i'm sitting here looking at a big silver cross w/ a glass eyeball in the center of it. what is the meaning of this object? i don't know, but the bulging, veiny, all-seeing eye is kind of snazzy. the only thing i ended up killing for breakfast yesterday was some shredded wheat. for some reason, i've been having a lot of memories from my early childhood and/or early school experiences. here's one: i was in first grade. this was back before there were apparently any real laws about corporal punishment in school (i once watched my brother get beaten until he bled). the teacher, an exceedingly hateful woman, used to beat the crap out the kids. anyway, she wrote a phrase on the board one afternoon during an easter lesson: "jesus was placed in the tummb." i raised my hand. "that's t-o-m-b. TOMB." the teacher completely freaked out. she rushed over to my desk, picked me up & began shaking the hell out of me. she pulled my hair. "you do NOT contradict me!" she screamed. then she banged my face against the top of my desk (this hurt like a sonofabitch & nearly broke my nose). she dragged me up to the front of the class & then threw me against the wall. but i got off easy, because i'd seen her treat other kids worse. still, i was afraid to go back to school. i also remember this poor kid who was bullied by everyone. i hated the teachers for not doing anything to stop it. he always had bruises. other kids would shove him down & kick him in the ribs. i felt so badly for him. there was nothing i could do, though, because i was one of the three kids in the school who got terrorized on a regular basis. the other was a little girl everyone just called "the dirty jew". i don't know what separated her from the rest of us (ethnicity isn't the answer), but she was picked on terribly. she lived in a house that looked like something straight from the addams family. she never fought back, but always looked about three steps away from homicide (as opposed to the boy, who just looked ready for a nervous breakdown). none of this probably means much, except that i learned my lifelong loathing of both bullies & authority figures early on. i just hope that those other two bullied kids grew up to have some sort of self-esteem--or barring that, some high-powered weaponry. |
This time every year, I feel so all alone.I have so much to be thankful for,but would truley give it all up to have one more day with him.He opened the world to me,and then left me here all by myself, staring hollowed eyed.He wanted us to go live in the mountains, with the Nez Pierce Indians, and wear little bird bones in our noses,[a trait of this tribe],but I was to vain to comtemplate this,I wasn't sure I was ready to give up my creature comforts, and now sadly, its much to late.Ironically, I'de wear a fucking cow bone in my nose, if I could have him back. Our last Christmas together,is still so vivid in my mind.I'de gotten off work at 11:30 pm, and my car was all dressed up like a Christmas tree, wreaths and ribbons and garland and tinsel all over, a new tape of John Lennons Happy Christmas was sitting on my seat.As I drove home on River road, I saw written in GIANT 10 feet tall letters, on the pavement " I LOVE YOU, NO SHIT", which was a personal joke between us. We laughed, and he told me how long it took him to do this, he had to keep jumping off the road and hide whenever cars would come, and he was an artist, so it was elaborate. I wish I could believe in something spiritual, that we would meet up again. Someone once said to me "Don't you think he would want you to be happy, and go on with your life?" And my response was "No, he would want me with him."This relationship was so complete, that neither of us could be complete without the other. And all I can say is "Happy Christmas" to my present family. |
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i often find myself wishing that i could step in somehow & fix everything--for you & for everyone. but i can't, which renders me completely fucking useless. so, all i can say (& this is too lame to live) is that my positive energies are going out toward you, & toward the millions of other people who are--for whatever reason--going to experience a difficult holiday season. everybody blathers on about "peace on earth" during the holidays. but very few people ever do anything about it. |
sorabjiland is dead, it would seem. no posts. that's because everybody else has a life & is busy doing interesting fuzzy, warm xmas things. but not this correspondent. so i thought i'd pop in & bore the ass off you w/ more typing. while everybody else is doing the big family thing, i'm going out for a ride. spouse & i are going on a pointless little jaunt over to oklahoma. there's nothing there for us to do, really. we just live fairly close to the state line & occasionaly ride around over there just for the hell of it. just to ride & talk & be together. hubby & i were just talking about our own funeral arrangements. he told me that he wants a simple epitath on his headstone: "WISH YOU WERE HERE." i'm probably also getting it on mine. actually, his headstone will be just a ruse. he's being cremated. the ashes will likely be scattered both at mt. shasta & into the gulf of mexico. me, i've got an intense phobia of fire & don't think that cremation is what i really want. not that i'd feel it. it's illogical, but the basic idea spooks me...but then again, so do all the other options. my dad keeps saying that when he dies, he wants to be fed to a pack of dogs. he's been saying that since i was about 5 years old. he'd sit me down & give me graphic descriptions about his corpse being ground up for dog food...it used to scare the bejesus out of me. now that he's a senior citizen, he's still saying the same thing. but now, i'm not so opposed to the idea. well, i've gotta get ready to go to OK. funny, one of my most common typos is "oklahomo" instead of "oklahoma". i don't know why, but i almost always have to make that correction when i type. well, i hope everybody's having a peaceful holiday. no shit. whatever your idea of a good christmas is, i hope you're pursuing it w/ reckless abandon. happy holidays, however you choose to celebrate them--or even if you don't celebrate them at all. peace on earth (& everywhere else). |
i just wanted to mention this stuff in some dark, untouched corner of this site. i didn't want to take up space in a "live" thread w/ this. anyway, i just had a dream about trying to post here. i didn't dream about any specific person in sorabjiland, though. i simply dreamed that i was attempting to post here over & over. my words were all coming out backwards & jumbled. sometimes, the words just melted off the screen altogether & went floating away into space, letter by letter. but i was so obsessed w/ communicating w/ the people here that i kept right on typing. i've awakened (for real & once again) w/ a high fever, chills & dizziness. i've been having a series of warped, surrealistic dreams. the posting dream tied in w/ a dream that i was out to save the world. in the dream, i looked like a skid row wino, but i was actually a guardian angel. a superhero, in fact. sort of a salvation army superman, taking care of various social pariahs (including myself). i was helping an elderly dyke who'd wrecked her motorcycle. nobody else would touch her. i cradled her in my arms & was spoon-feeding her both medicine & food. people were trying to hold me back, telling me that she was just an old lesbian. my own family stood there, shaking their heads & telling me that i was stupid to waste my time on her. in real life, the family once told me that i was stupid for hugging a junkie (somebody actually phoned them long distance to relate that i'd been seen up here embracing an unsavory character)...that it was a sign that i'd finally reached true loser status. they said that if i couldn't speak to a better quality of person than that, it was a sign that i was going to hell. they kept phoning me up, reading me bible verses & telling me that i was a creature of darkness, an instrument of satan. an instrument of satan. hmm. a tuba, perhaps? anyway, in the dream, every time i helped someone, i tried to post a note about it here. it seemed crucially important that i do so. but i couldn't manage it. the screen was melting & i was dizzy. all my typing was coming out as gibberish. i woke up (for real), got sick (for real & in technicolor), & then lapsed back into the same damn dream. except that some people were trying to kill a kitten. by this point in the dream, i could fly. i scooped up the kitten & scooped up various people to rescue (amazingly, i could still fly w/ half a fucking town clinging to my back & tucked under my wings). there is no point in relating this dream sequence. just thought i'd mention it, if only to myself. sometimes, i use imagery from fever-dreams in creative projects later (although i can't possibly imagaine much creative use for this particular sequence). anyhow, i'm shivering a bit hard for writing it in a notebook. gotta go. i'm about to become violently & profoundly ill. but aside from that, i'm in a fairly good mood. hope you're all having a good day out there. PS: i'm really sorry about some of my posts. i don't mean to be such a dreadful, droning bore. |
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truthfully, the whole junkie thing baffled me, too. who did jesus hang out w/ when he was here? prostitutes & other assorted societal outcasts, that's who. & who are nice christians not supposed to hang out with? well, yeah. you guessed it. the very people jesus would've likely had over for dinner & a few beers. certainly, not all xtians are hypocrites. but some of the self-righteous freaks i've dealt w/ have made me very leery of organized religion, that's for damn sure. sometime, i'll have to tell you about the people who found out that i'm adopted & promptly tried to exorcise the influence of my birth parents (they figured that's why i'm a sinner). they knocked me to the floor & tried to perform an exorcism. it didn't really sit well w/ me. it's a wee bit ironic that, given my bizarre & eclectic belief system, that i sell religious goods part-time. but i do. & i conduct my business very respectfully (minus my occasional secret lapses, like the "two dollar" rant, on another thread). gotta go. pardon me while i go crawl under a rock & die. or just sleep for a couple of years, perhaps. |
Where's your husband? He'd better be taking care of you, or at least emiting waves of sympathy in your direction. Nothing worse than someone just sitting there when they have the means to ease your pain. PS. If it's any consolation, your posts are never boring. Write on. |
my body feels bruised all over. intense joint & muscle pain. for some reason, i've also got extreme light sensitivity. but i'll be all right, eventually. since i've had a horrifying headache for days now, i decided to also kick caffeine while i'm ill. i figured that i'd never notice the caffeine withdrawl headache on top of everything else. & i think i might've actually done it. no caffeine for a few days now. i had a dream that i was hospitalized (that almost happened yesterday for real)...& when i looked up from my bed, i was being taken care of by some of my own fictional characters. i mean, characters from my stories. weird, eh? awright. gotta go back to bed. getting seriously tired again. |
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what the hell |
the source? caffine! Once i realized the source, i milked and managed to keep the script coming well after i moved back to atlanta. I would just call the deadpan office of this neurologist, be sweet to the sleepy 50 something nurse and badda bing badda boom, i had a script wating for me at the local pharmacy. Finally she cut me off. When i worked at the record store, there was a coffee shop next door. we had a barter system going on. they got "discounts" on used shit and i got free coffee. After an 8 hour shift it was not unusual to have consumed 2-3 QUAD latte (thats 4 shots per drink baybee!!) This coffeehouse in Raleigh was the first of it;s kind about 6-7 years ago. YOu could smell their roasting all over the campus and downtown area. It was rather rank actually but their coffee kept people in their thrift store chairs for hours on end. To me is was just short of home made crank. |
however, i've had a cola addiction of fairly alarming proportions for years. hubby has it, too. we slug down so much coke that it's frightening. so far, i'm still off the stuff. sticking to ginger ale, spring water & fruit juice. |
why didn't these bastards try getting up in my face last week, when i wasn't coping w/ illness? at present, i'm just completely unable to deal w/ this shit. got a customer making noises about dropping a lawsuit on my ass over a check she bounced on me (the amount is under $3.00). she wrote me this bad check & claims that because i deposited it later than i should have (admittedly, i had actually lost the check for a while), i'm at fault for screwing up her bank account. she's also considering suing me for the additional "emotional trauma" of "making her look poor", all because i presented this piss-ant check for payment. the amount of the check is close to two dollars. if i'd had any idea that this would be some kind of major problem, i'd have consulted her silly ass before cashing it. lawsuit-happy imbeciles. gotta love 'em. she's not the only screwup who's trying to make my life miserable today. but she's one of the more special ones. another thing: i hate getting work-related mail from people asking me the same damnfool questions, over & over. i detest taking the time to carefully prepare exhaustively detailed documents, only to end up bombarded w/ mail from losers who would've found all their questions answered for them, if they'd have just bothered to fucking READ in the first place. it blows my mind that so few people these days are capable of comprehending basic written instructions. thank you. i'm done ranting. at least for the moment.... |
he didn't, by the way. I don't think he will. |
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I called him the other day and I asked him if he was busy. I don't like to talk to people when they're busy. That might make me selfish, but I like to have people's (nearly) full attention when I'm talking to them. he said he wasn't busy and I asked him how come he was being so short and he said he was reading his e-mail. so I reminded him that I Just asked him if he was busy and he gave me some smart response about not being the village idiot and he could do both at the same time. I thought he was being kind of rude and I didn't want to fight so I just told him to have fun with his e-mail and goodbye and I hung up. I wasn't rude about it. he wrote me an e-mail: "I have tried on numerous times to be polite, and make time to talk to you. And if you can't get over the fact that I might come home from my job a little bit tired, or if other people want to IM me or write me an email or if I want to look something up on the web, or the fact I refuse to devote my entire existance to give you a song and dance to amuse you, then please forgive me, I must not have any prorities." I never asked him to amuse me ever. actually, talking to him is kind of difficult sometimes. I have to do most of the work. I think he's just gotten tired of me. he told me he's gotten kind of tired of his best friend and that he'd like a break from him, but he won't tell his best friend that. and he's also been an ass to this girl he really likes for no good reason. this is so unlike him. he's usually so nice. I think he's going through something bad right now. I feel really bad for him and I'd like to be able to be there for him, but it seems that all he wants right now is for me to be Away from him. it's such a meaningless little argument, but behind it all I get the feeling there's something really bad. I've got to go lie down. |
handjob guy sort of complained about it the other day. he said all the chicks he knows do other stuff while talking on the phone. "but you have my full attention," he said. "all I'm doing is driving." |
It frustrates me when I'm talking to someone and they're so into something else that I have to repeat myself twice. |
but so many people do this. i think the culprit is society's increasing lack of intimacy. people don't even seem to know what a real person-to-person conversation consists of anymore. hint: it doesn't include chatting w/ another party on ICQ. it doesn't include frequent breaks to go talk to someone else. it doesn't include simultaneously surfing the net or writing e-mail. if somebody really gives a damn, they'll FIND the time for private conversation. private, personal conversation time can be worked into even the busiest of schedules. but that's just my .02. i often feel guilty as hell when somebody pops over to talk to me when i'm right in the middle of e-mailing someone. they catch me by surprise. so i want to finish drafting the letter, but it's totally fucking rude to be e-mailing someone while somebody's standing right there wanting a simple bit of my time. i usually end up sending a half-assed e-mail (thus cheating the online party) & making shoddy, distracted conversation while finishing the letter (thus cheating the live, in-my-face party). it's kind of a no-win situation. anyhow, i think your buddy definitely owes you an apology (mostly for that snotty little note he sent you). he's running one of the oldest games in the world--covering up his own rude behavior while making it look like it's YOU who's got a problem. he's talking about IMing somebody while he talks to you? forget about it. that's just plain bad manners. but rude people never do seem to apologize. he owes you an apology--but you'll probably have to wait until hell freezes over to get it. PS: i'm so sorry to hear that you're sick. i really, truly hope you're feeling better! |
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