Random Acts of Awesome

It's like netflix, but weirder.  I've been having a really hard time articulating things lately, and I don't know why. It's annoying. So, I'm just going to talk about whatever pops into my head for now, and we'll see what happens. I may very well delete this post at some point in the near future, because I have a feeling I'm about to develop a sort of Turrets of the mind. Though, if I'm honest with myself, turrets actually has very little to do with language. I was reading a fascinating article about a man living with Turrets in The New Yorker the other day ::adopts pretentious tone and starts puffing a pipe that magically appears::.  Yeah, that's all I have to say about that article. It was good. Fuck the New Yorker, though. Them and their hoighty toighty coolness. WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE, FUCKING JEFF GOLDBLUM??? Speaking of fucking Jeff Goldblum... I wish. Or maybe not. He'd most likely be an incredibly awkwardly self conscious lover. "

It's been a long time since I've been able to show anybody around my town. And it's been never that I've gotten to show somebody around my adopted home who actually had the same sense of pleasure and sensuality that I do. There's something really awesome about being able to take somebody somewhere that you love, knowing that they're going to love it too, and for the same reasons you do. I recently had a friend of sorts come up and visit. This is somebody I grew up with, and somebody who I've always had an intense connection with. I have vivid memories of having conversations with this guy as a teenager, and feeling a mental connection that I had no context for. I had a hard time, as a young adult, making mental connections with other human beings. I don't know if I thought I was too smart for them all, or too stupid. Regardless, this particular connection taught me that they were POSSIBLE. That I could relate to other human beings, that I could enjoy con

I went to a party last night at this place called Club Sesso. Ron Jeremys Club Sesso . It was a good ol' fashioned swingers club, complete with lots of private rooms, lots of not so private rooms, a GIANT bed in the middle of the upstairs loft area, and lots of smarmy single men swarming around not so many women. I felt a bit like I'd stepped back into the 70s. BUT, it was a party for kinksters, so there were some distinctly none 70s elements, such as a complete dungeon, a shibari suspension demonstration, and lots of spanking going on. It was interesting. I was expecting it to be a lot ickier than it was. I've avoided this place, even though it's hosted some events I've been interested in, because I expected it to attract a lot of douchbags. And the douchbags were there. But they were outnumbered by the kinksters who, as a group, tend to be very nerdy, and very respectful of others boundaries. I went with a friend, because she wanted to check it out and didn't

Over the past couple of years I've developed the libido of a 14 year old boy. I really have. I've always had a higher than normal drive, though it's been depressed in the past due to issues with repression and angst. I'll go through periods in my life where I feel like a monk, with no sex drive at all. Periods that are coming fewer and farther between, though. It's been months since the last one, and that period was marked by quite a few intervals of particularly non-monklike behavior.  And nowadays, if I have to go through a couple of days without any form of stimulation, I feel like I'm going to explode in a messy morass of undefined anger and need. It's bad.  And it's odd. Because I don't want less than the full thing. I can satisfy myself, of course. I've become a connoisseur of self inflicted orgasm, and there are many, many different ways of pleasuring oneself. But none of them are as satisfying to me right now as interacting with another h

I'm sitting on my stripped bed, waiting to put my sheets in the dryer, not having gotten dressed for the day yet, wearing a baby blue button up shirt that doesn't belong to me, and eating mint ice cream. It's getting dark out, slowly, and is alternating between a gentle rain and a vivid sunshine. My cat is staring at me out of the corner of her eyes, willing me to drop some ice cream on the floor, or hurry up and finish so she can lick the bowl. I can almost feel the heat of her sheer determination making my hand waver as the spoon wobbles its way to my mouth with another luscious mouthful of creamy, minty goodness. Ha! NO ICE CREAM FOR YOU, MANIPULATIVE CREATURE!! I'm sore. Sore, and tired, and happy. My limbs are a bit shaky, and my mind is a bit lost. What is it about the struggle that is so sexy? I surely do love wrestling, and while winning is nice, losing has become better. There's a part of me that's made nervous by that fact. I never want to make losing

I went out with a new-ish girlfriend for drinks and hijinks the other night. That, in and of itself, was interesting, because she's gay, and there weren't very clearly defined parameters of what we were doing going out for drinks. I treated it the way I would any other interaction with someone I found attractive but wasn't dating, and that seemed to work fine. We had a freaking blast. She's a HUGE character, and the two of us attracted some amazing energy. Plus, she's brilliant, emotive, and fun to talk to. Good times. And then, about half way through the night, an ex lover texted me. He'd seen us in the bar and wanted to know if we wanted to hang out. We'd left by then, but I asked my friend if she felt like company, she was down with it, so I invited him to the place we were at. I was kind of leery, though happy to see him. The last time we'd hung out, it was awkward. There was no chemistry, he'd gained a bunch of weight and looked miserable, and I

Didn't get laid, got in a fight... uh huh... it ain't no big thing.  Actually, I didn't get into a fight. But I didn't get laid, either. Not that I was expecting to! Though it would have been nice...  Anyways. Went to a party. A Halloween party, of course. It was a Victorian theme, so I threw on some lingerie, and wore a frock coat over it. Very authentic. Eh, fuck it. It was easy. I enjoyed the party quite a bit, as I tend to do. I like parties. I get a little frantically social though, and this one was no exception. I was running around like a butterfly high on crack, making witty jokes, engaging in ridiculously deep conversations with very drunk people, then seeing something shiny and running away, leaving a general sense of befuddled well being in my wake.  At one point I found myself out on the porch, reading peoples palms in the rain. I was a little typsy, and feeling very, very honest. As a result, Js girlfriend got told that she was basically a manipulative crea