Good things

I am sitting on the patio, watching a storm roll past. There is lightening in the clouds in front of me, and a bruised sunset off to my side. I'm watching bats and hawks swirl through the air, lightening lit clouds their backdrop, visible for a moment and then gone, only to reappear moments later feet away. Magical birds, magical sky, magical air. The wind is blowing in fitful bursts, smelling of pennies and flowers and sun warmed rocks.
I am drinking a cup of chrysanthemum tea, the flower at the bottom of my mug a complex sea creature waving with every sip I take. I ate good food tonight, that I made myself with love and effort. I drank a cocktail made from quality ingredients that tasted like ingenious human engineering. I smoked a cigar that made me lightheaded for a moment, and I drank water that soothed my tongue and my head. I swam for a bit, and then rested my arms against the side of the pool and read a good book while my legs kept up a gentle but steady movement.
I spent very little money to have all of this goodness, just enough for quality ingredients and no more. I have savings in my bank account that is about to be put to very good use. I am waiting for a phone call from my brother, who will hopefully video chat with me with his brand new baby in his arms. I am content in the knowledge of where I will sleep tonight, in a comfortable bed in a safe house. I will wake up tomorrow with the sunrise, after a good nights sleep full of dreams that fascinate me, and I will go outside again to enjoy this beauty with a mug of very good coffee in my hands.
I am content. I am not content just because of these things, but they are a part of it. Just want to remember what this feels like. I don't always want to feel this way. But I want to remember what it feels like when I don't anymore, remember how easily I can get here.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fucking Monsanto... FUCKING HUMANS!!

Is it terrible that my reaction to this article is an eye roll and a "No f'ing shit, Sherlock"? Good lord. Especially this part: But farmers sprayed so much Roundup that weeds quickly evolved to survive it. “What we’re talking about here is Darwinian evolution in fast-forward,” Mike Owen, a weed scientist at Iowa State University, said. There's a strain of extremely hardy coca plant growing all over Latin America right now that is almost completely resistant to any sort of herbicide except the most toxic. It's a strain that created itself in under 10 years, which is an insanely short period of time for a plant to evolve. Why did it do so? Because of the "War on Drugs". We sprayed so much Roundup throughout it's natural habitat that the evolution of the plant was spurred into high speed. We created a plant that we don't have the resources to destroy in an effort to look like we were doing something decisive. Fucking brilliant. Now the same thing i...
Read more

Ah, sexual dysfunction, my old friend...

I have a feeling I'm going to be appalled at myself after I write this out, but right now I haven't been able to stop an evil, smug little smile from creeping onto my face all afternoon. So, last night, this guy B came over. I've been seeing him off and on for about 4 months now. He's got some quirks that I find annoying, but for the most part our sexual chemistry more than makes up for that. One of the most annoying quirks is his tendency to bite. Hard. I've had bruises with perfect teeth shaped imprints from him. Now, I don't actually mind biting, for the most part. I like the contrast of sensation, between arousal and pain. And this guy knows that, and has taken too free license with it in the past. I've talked to him about it, and told him to go easier, to not bite so hard. And he listened, for the most part.  But last night, he bit me really, really hard just after I'd had a REALLY intense orgasm. And that level of pain transfered all that intense f...
Read more
It's so much easier to feel beautiful when you're alone. I wonder about that, sometimes. Of all the beautiful sex I've had, the best has been alone. Not the best orgasms, of course. The orgasms I give myself always feel a little flat. I can't feed on my own need, my own fulfillment. I only feel content, full, after I've lost myself in a lovers fruition. But beautiful... that only seems to happen in my own eyes. When I'm alone, I see the spill of my own hair across a pillow as I turn my face to the side, and it's art. I feel my own skin, silk. I pull my breasts out of confines of my bra, and the expanse of flesh doesn't feel ample, it feels right. Their size doesn't matter to me, only what they make me feel, and every inch of surface is waiting for my fingertips and nails. My hard little nipples aren't too big or too small. They're simply perfect points of sensation. I can touch them soft or rough, it doesn't matter. I do only what I wan...
Read more