I’m tired of this pointless rut carried out in words. This diversion, this flirtation leading to nothing but inflamed thoughts. I’ve spent years in service to the pleasures of the flesh. Easy now to recount, to regale, but without you near what purpose? I’m right back to that jaded point where I am weary of the pleasure centered on cock and cunt. Explore with me the sensation of touch but leave off those. Too easy, too simple. Explore pain and music, sound and sensation. Taste, pressure. Speak of art and philosophy. Weave with me a story. Ascend past the barrier of flesh into resonant wavelengths. Dance and sing, give voice to the internal monologue, let me hear your every thought as you think it. I want more than the pleasure of simple desire. Give me complexity, conundrum and puzzle.
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Nega nova
I’m sick of pouring myself out, bleeding out
Expanding out to fill an infinite volume
Attenuating out into nothing
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Primal scream
I’m still in love with her. I know she doesn’t want me. Just wants friends. But I can’t be friends like that. All intimate and sharing, without love? I can’t do it. It doesn’t seem like I was wrong. Every time I escalated the intimacy, I checked with her. (it’s the Bdsm caution) Each time she liked what I was doing. Didn’t want me to stop. It wasn’t physical. She wasn’t ready for long-term physical relationship. Various reasons, reasoning I concur with. I don’t want her once. I want her all the time. And if that took time to develop, I was/am willing to give her the time. I still love her. I’m not allowed to say it. I still love her. I’m not allowed to show it.
I’ve known love but not like this. Not where her mere presence makes me and the world better. Not where I want to roll around in the sound of her voice like a cat with catnip. I’ve never fallen this hard.
I’m picking up the pieces. I expect to be doing that for some time. And I still can’t help hoping.
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Fuck you, happy holidays.
There is a point where I don’t have anything new to say. I am at this point now. To hear of loss, pain, emotional turmoil, I’ve written it. Bled and bled. Nothing come of it but the momentary release of fear. The ones I’ve loved who, inexplicably loved me are gone. Died young-ish. The one’s I’ve loved who fought to not love me, who didn’t want to hurt my feelings, who disappeared from my life, they are still walking around. Seems like loving me is a death sentence, and they were pardoned. I don’t know, I’m maudlin. I fucking hate the holidays.
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3:30 am
Life wins again, by the thinnest of margins.
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Practice
Anyone that’s read Ballroom should get this.
Practice your ABC’s daily.
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Just a thought
If love should find fertile soil, then it behooves us to allow it to flower
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Thoughts on what passes for consent.
So, I just took a traipse through several blogs that were talking about consent in BDSM. I frankly found the content there frightening. Not just in what is considered consent: Outside of edge play, which not all are suited to despite their desires, the Dominant should not lose control. As the dominant, you should not allow yourself to be so taken in by whatever activity you are engaged in, that you edge into non-consent. There is a difference between play fear and real fear, and if you see real fear, then you need to call yellow yourself. You need to check, that consent is still given. You cannot just assume that once given it is given for the scene entire. Consent is not one and done. It is a continual affirmation that they are good to go. For some dominants, that is not what they want to hear. They want to hurt, to cause pain, and the thin veneer of initial consent is enough to get them to act. That is Sadism. Which itself is fine, within the strict limits of control. If you yourself, are unable to maintain that control then it may help to have a 3rd party present. To ref the action. If you so lose yourself, that you cannot determine consent from non-consent then that is a problem. Not insurmountable, but measures should be taken. Safe, Sane, and Consensual. It is not just a catchphrase. I take safety and Consent very seriously. And I check to see that my actions at least are sane. You cannot be engaged in dangerous play of any kind without rules. That is in play as much for BDSM as it is for knife fighting, or blood play, or underground fighting. Rules are made and enforced to keep us all safe. And keep a nurse or doctor on hand if possible, I’m not saying that non-consent cannot be roleplayed. I’m saying that as the dominant, you do not get a free ride to do whatever the hell you want. you must be aware at all times. I know a few who are dipping their toes into the life. And I am genuinely afraid for them, the wrong top or master and it could ruin the experience. I have been called too safe. Too in control. Perhaps. But I have seen the results of the other way.
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Top 5 songs that get me moving
- Armin Van Buuren: Ping Pong
- Aesthetic Perfection: Oh’ Gloria
- (redacted)
- Danny Breaks: In Her
- TAKENOBU: Shady Grove
Like a crescendo and a then a slow fall to quiescence.
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Attending Pax
I am attending Pax prime this year. That is in Seattle this weekend. I’ll be the tall guy, dressed in all black, dress shirt and slacks. Send me a message via social and I’ll say hi
Pelgris 