**See Blogger.com for message on maintenance heads-up.
In case you look for me and I'm not here again.
Twice today my machine has crashed as I was writing today's blog.
Technically difficulties! But you don't care, do you?
You don't want to see me sweating.
Dreams:
_of the perfect shoes, teeth biting into my ankle, and a hand on my inner thigh.
_of a steely soft and hard voice whispering nasty thoughts in my ear.
_of a slow languid ride, two bodies sheened in sweat, softly, smoothly, rhythmically to Maxwell's (Untitled)How Does it Feel?
Do you dream of me as I dream of myself sometimes?
An amorphous pleasure giving glowing smooth malleable tender form, hovering over, curling under, splayed before, you.
I have no face but eyes, my only voice in moans, red mouth, cheek, wash of gloss black inky ribbons of hair. A sensual blur.
Dinner with Ex-Boy last night:
my darling ex-boy who so often peppers my blogs with fond reminiscence.
I sit beside him, wistful at his lovely mouth and his new tongue stud I never got to enjoy.
Always attuned to my sex vibes, he is at attention. I flex but send him on his way.
Sense memory of our wonderful physical compatibility overwhelms me and I will want to cry at my body's keening remembrance.
Embracing him I feel the tension that will always be there.
But I don't want him anymore, my memories animate and imbue him with a spirit that he cannot provide on his own.
It was always a struggle between Hugo and Ex-Boy.
Who was the better man? Who handled me the best?
Ex Boy soothes and calms me with his goldenboy presence.
We listen to Bjork together, smoke bowls and close our eyes, hold hands and think of more innocent times, hear again the waves crashing on the beach. We are made of water, flowing always, sometimes tempestuous, sometimes gentle, always moving.
He knows my powers. He knows my pain. He once was the one who gently fucked me back to life.
But I'm not who I used to be. Neither is he.
So I'm still dreaming of the man to smooth me out forever.
Jeff Buckley, Everybody here wants you:
(I met him when he played in-store at the HMV in Toronto back in '94. If I'd known he'd had this song in him then, I would have surely jumped his bones)
>
Such a thing of wonder in this crowd, I'm a stranger in this town, you're free with me.
And our eyes locked in downcast love, I sit here proud, Even now you're undressed in your dreams with me.
I'm only here for this moment. I know everybody here wants you.
I know everybody here thinks he needs you. I'll be waiting right here just to show you.
>
How quickly I slip through space to space, each space inhabiting me with its sensations, images, memories.
The secret passageways I'm walking through right now are where I exist, where I thrive.
I realized today that only within the written medium am I ordered.
Otherwise, unrecorded I am an unmanageable flux.
In other words, when I don't write I am wild and lost.
In case you look for me and I'm not here again.
Twice today my machine has crashed as I was writing today's blog.
Technically difficulties! But you don't care, do you?
You don't want to see me sweating.
Dreams:
_of the perfect shoes, teeth biting into my ankle, and a hand on my inner thigh.
_of a steely soft and hard voice whispering nasty thoughts in my ear.
_of a slow languid ride, two bodies sheened in sweat, softly, smoothly, rhythmically to Maxwell's (Untitled)How Does it Feel?
Do you dream of me as I dream of myself sometimes?
An amorphous pleasure giving glowing smooth malleable tender form, hovering over, curling under, splayed before, you.
I have no face but eyes, my only voice in moans, red mouth, cheek, wash of gloss black inky ribbons of hair. A sensual blur.
Dinner with Ex-Boy last night:
my darling ex-boy who so often peppers my blogs with fond reminiscence.
I sit beside him, wistful at his lovely mouth and his new tongue stud I never got to enjoy.
Always attuned to my sex vibes, he is at attention. I flex but send him on his way.
Sense memory of our wonderful physical compatibility overwhelms me and I will want to cry at my body's keening remembrance.
Embracing him I feel the tension that will always be there.
But I don't want him anymore, my memories animate and imbue him with a spirit that he cannot provide on his own.
It was always a struggle between Hugo and Ex-Boy.
Who was the better man? Who handled me the best?
Ex Boy soothes and calms me with his goldenboy presence.
We listen to Bjork together, smoke bowls and close our eyes, hold hands and think of more innocent times, hear again the waves crashing on the beach. We are made of water, flowing always, sometimes tempestuous, sometimes gentle, always moving.
He knows my powers. He knows my pain. He once was the one who gently fucked me back to life.
But I'm not who I used to be. Neither is he.
So I'm still dreaming of the man to smooth me out forever.
Jeff Buckley, Everybody here wants you:
(I met him when he played in-store at the HMV in Toronto back in '94. If I'd known he'd had this song in him then, I would have surely jumped his bones)
>
Such a thing of wonder in this crowd, I'm a stranger in this town, you're free with me.
And our eyes locked in downcast love, I sit here proud, Even now you're undressed in your dreams with me.
I'm only here for this moment. I know everybody here wants you.
I know everybody here thinks he needs you. I'll be waiting right here just to show you.
>
How quickly I slip through space to space, each space inhabiting me with its sensations, images, memories.
The secret passageways I'm walking through right now are where I exist, where I thrive.
I realized today that only within the written medium am I ordered.
Otherwise, unrecorded I am an unmanageable flux.
In other words, when I don't write I am wild and lost.
posted by DopamineJunkie at
3/28/2001 03:27:00 PM
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