imperfection…

i see my faults in the eyes of my friends. i can feel them prying open the cracks i leave untended.

they are doing nothing of offense. maybe they are trying to help me. but it leaves me defenseless. wide open.

helpless.

scared.

on the brink of tears.

-

i will venture forth alone. into my very own unknown. the dark landscape of my thoughts. the diamond studded hills of my reactions. free from they who have an idea about who i might be.

-

i want to lash out. point out their faults. before they crucify me for mine. i am preoccupied with thoughts of how to deflect attention from my problems.

-

it is true…the world is quite an imperfect place.

my favorite five…#8

a friend of mine personally added a link to my bookmark toolbar. i would nomally be appalled at this intrusion - but i am actually grateful.

this little site.

since, i have found five great artists. doing their thing.

jason thielke (for some reason my firewall is blocking his personal website - but check it out if you can)

joao paulo alvares ruas

kyle t. webster (i like watching an artsist’s mind work through things)

james jean

su blackwell (i really love her bookcut sculptures)

here to stay…

my mother tells me i have a problem with loyalty. my ex boss is convinced i have a problem committing. my sister asks me when i am going to settle down.

and none of them are speaking of my relationships. more on my career.

to all of them i answer a resounding ‘live in my head for a few days.’

i, like my father, can do almost anything i put my goddamned mind to. so why, pray tell, should i stop trying new things?

does it make everyone uncomfortable that they have to ask me what i am doing every time i see them, because unlike them, i am probably doing something different - but i am always doing something.

does it make people uncomfortable that they can’t pigeonhole me or foresee my future? that they can’t put me under some category and leave it at that.

i usually want to say to them ‘when are you going to do something different? when are you going to move out of your tiny box with your little assumptions and obvious motivations and let life come to you instead of trying to shove it into said box?’

but maybe that is just the chip on my shoulder talking.

away…

i didn’t want to fuck him where my roommate could hear.

we went driving. we drove past the college into a lot bordering the athletic field.

before i even stopped the car, he reached over to kiss me. intoxicating. there was nothing but sparks between us.

he climbed into the back seat and beckoned me.

soon we were a mass of sweaty parts. fucking furiously. i pushed him off of me and cleaned his dick of condom and spermicide.

grabbed him and slowly slid my tongue around. he perked. i licked and sucked and squeezed until he let himself go.

i don’t swallow. it is just a thing i don’t do. so, as he recovered from his orgasm i fumble with the car window so i can spit.

‘give it to me.’ he said.

i stopped. looked at him. raised my eyebrows.

‘if you don’t want it, i’ll take it.’ he leaned close, putting his mouth on mine. and i gave it to him, like he asked.

he swallowed and smiled.

i grabbed another condom. because that was fucking hot.

somedays…

somedays i move so quickly, make decisions so fast that when i get a minute to sit down and think about the state of my life - i begin to feel weird.

my insides get a little jiggly. i am not quite sure if i am standing on solid ground.

my astrological chart is mostly made up of fire and air signs. only one water and one earth. it is a struggle for me to stay grounded.

i feel like i am moving forward, a good feeling by my assessment, but i sometimes don’t stop to think what i am leaving behind or running headlong into.

sometimes i let it go too far too fast. all under the guise of improvement.

i am working on sitting on my decisions longer. but that is always at battle with my instincts, which i protect fiercely, for they have never steered me wrong.

words to describe…

i have been thinking about a man i once knew.

i often think about the things he did for me. the things we did together.

i would say - he is the first man i fucked. and don’t mean i stuck my dick inside him - i mean, i let everything go and ‘enjoyed the wild ride.’

most of my relationships up to that point were love then sex. this one, was the opposite.

we were sweet on each other, but that was about it. the fucking was brutal. savage. but full of respect.

as his whole body engaged and his face tightened into a ball, he fingered his asshole. i took a clue.

the next time we were pressed naked against each other i stuck my fingers in his mouth. all wet with his own saliva, i slid them in. his eyes opened wide. he gave me a look that could have only been love mixed with pleasure. he fucked me harder. i rode him till he exploded.

in a mess of sweat and heavy breathing, he kissed me, as people like to do, to express the little bit of tenderness they have left.

long before i can remember - really i can’t remember too well - i don’t know if the thought of having a penis or the thought of fucking a man came first. chicken or the egg, right? but that little moment brought me closer.

i continued to find my fingers in his ass. to much of our mutual pleasure.

i enjoyed the feeling of penetration. the power and the responsibility. the tight space. the exquisite amount of pleasure and vulnerability.

weird…

blogging proves to be therapeutic. over and over. most of that therapy is tied up in my sense of anonymity.

i want my writing is exist in a vacuum. where no one is tainted by what they know about me. much like i feel about monmouth and the provocateur. the glimpses i get into their lives do not produce a mental image or warrant a knowledge of their dramas. it merely evokes an emotion of emotion.

their distilled words convey only the necessary details to get the reader into the mood. i always imagine it happening in a nondescript apartment, away from the reality of life.

perhaps that is just my fantasy. i want my sex life to live that way. in a vacuum. existing only for me and the person i am fucking.

now, i am grown. i have learned to cope. i have realized that real life has to spill in at some point. but that doesn’t mean that i am not constantly on the run, protecting my privacy.

it is not that i mind people knowing what i do - obviously, i write about it on the internet - it is more that sex creates such intense emotions in everyone. present or not.

i don’t like other’s emotions tainting my lovely affairs. but, alas, we can not have it all.

from sweaty to sticky…

it just started raining. which means i’m not going anywhere.

the past few days have proved quite lucrative in the cherry popping business. well, it isn’t much of a business.

it is more than wonderful to push past your walls and gates, and watch others do it too.

i can’t explain to you the relief of the cool air seeping in from the rain. it is taking the edge off of my backache.

i also learned that it is better to be smart, honest, and connected emotionally than rich. i mean, i already knew that, but life seems to reinforce it over and over.

ethan has left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth, which has been sweetened once again. by someone else.

i might even feel the my heart melting a bit. this is no one i could possess, much like my dear adam, but merely revel in when life affords me the luxury.

i feel lucky.

it’s a matter of the inside…

i lay here. a bit of insomnia.

i don’t know why. maybe the strange bed.

tonight i made a comment about being single, and my friend retorted with ‘when have you not been single?’

though he has not been the kind of friend that knows the ins and outs of my highways to lust, he knows me well enough to be incredibly perceptive.

‘well…’ i said, thinking. i began to explain my love life. and resorted to a defeated ‘yeah, you are pretty much right.’ because even if i had a person i called a partner they never really were mine and i definitely never gave myself to them.

he gave a bit of a start and replied ‘well, i don’t mean to offend. i just always thought you were too hardcore for a boyfriend.’

all tied up…

‘i’ve never let anyone tie me up before.’ he proudly admitted to me.

the night before i gently placed his wrists in my leather straps. (thanks again lila) i took it easy on him. sweetly kissing him, making him feel comfortable to give it up.

the next week he wanted to fuck me. ‘you have to tie me up.’

a look of confusion washed over him a bit. he didn’t know what to do.

i led him to my drawer of toys. ‘your choice.’

he picked the handcuffs - a simple mechanism for the beginner. but he still looked confused.

‘what…what do i do?’

i reassured him that he is a smart man, and if he did anything wrong i would correct him.

he licked me and fucked me five different ways. while i played it coy.

boy, it is nice to give up control.