More random thoughts...(edit: I use the "lines" as an analogy)
It is Monday night. Just like last Sunday, it is late, for me. I have to be at work tomorrow at 7:45. But, I am floating. No way I can sleep. Reading a book about a woman dealing with her father's death. Sadness all around. What would I do if my dad died? No need to think about it. How is that for reading? Paternal death interspersed with Jack the Ripper interspersed with a carny family? Too many stories, too many books I am reading at one time. I smell a line nearby.
Lily keeps attacking Freddie. It makes me do another line. And drink more wine. Obedience classes are scarcely helping. Even though I work with her every day. Guess I need some help with this. I read a story in NY times today (from a previous printing) about sex crimes. My neighbor (professor at Emory)brought it to me and asked me to help her in her research on sex crimes. Her current study is Mary Fagan. Doing my best. Trying not to get too personally involved. Leads to another line. Dreamed about an ex of mine last night. Made love to her. No, it wasn't an orgasmic, sexual dream...just delicious. But it was like I was watching from another's point of view. Weird. Voyeuristic. Causes me to do another line. Led me to think that I sort of, well, do, want someone to make love to me. It has been a long time. Maybe 2+ years? Excuse me while I light a fag for this one...Pause...lighter please...ahhhhhh, yes...nicotine...I feel better. Anyway, I digress. Back to the sexual topic at hand. It has been longer than, well, than I can remember. Too long since someone has made true, honest, sincere love to me. It has always (well, the past couple of years and the past couple of women)been only about the sex. Which is wonderful. To a degree. Recently, well, beyond recent times, I have done the whole whips, chains, hand cuffs, blood letting, saran wrap, swings, even dabbling in branding, blah blah blah. It is fun...yes, exciting...invigorating...but, sometimes, a girl just wants to be caressed, petted, adored. I just want to purr like a kitten wrapped in the warmth of its mother's belly. Is that too much to want? Maybe. It doesn't have to be about the big "O"...Maybe I want too much. Maybe I should do another line. I know I said in many other pieces I've written that I haven't thought much about sex. And I haven't, really. But I have thought about the intimacy. I miss it. I don't want it every night, or every day...by any means. I've felt suffocated by all of the women I have been with since living in Atlanta. But, I just, I just want to have it- the intimacy. The precious. The thought- worth another line. I'm better off alone in every sense of the word. Okay, onto other topics- and further lines. I wanted to grow my hair out, but now, it is too long. I wanted to lose some weight, but 95 pounds is too little for me anymore. My clothes don't fit. A stranger from another world, from another time, I have become. I made vegetable soup tonight. Ate a bowl. Tried to keep it down. Came back up as if a torrential storm has invaded my body. It's time. Time for a line. Time for further pages of my book(s). Time for the enveloping of my bed. Time for another line. Time. It is just time.
Lily keeps attacking Freddie. It makes me do another line. And drink more wine. Obedience classes are scarcely helping. Even though I work with her every day. Guess I need some help with this. I read a story in NY times today (from a previous printing) about sex crimes. My neighbor (professor at Emory)brought it to me and asked me to help her in her research on sex crimes. Her current study is Mary Fagan. Doing my best. Trying not to get too personally involved. Leads to another line. Dreamed about an ex of mine last night. Made love to her. No, it wasn't an orgasmic, sexual dream...just delicious. But it was like I was watching from another's point of view. Weird. Voyeuristic. Causes me to do another line. Led me to think that I sort of, well, do, want someone to make love to me. It has been a long time. Maybe 2+ years? Excuse me while I light a fag for this one...Pause...lighter please...ahhhhhh, yes...nicotine...I feel better. Anyway, I digress. Back to the sexual topic at hand. It has been longer than, well, than I can remember. Too long since someone has made true, honest, sincere love to me. It has always (well, the past couple of years and the past couple of women)been only about the sex. Which is wonderful. To a degree. Recently, well, beyond recent times, I have done the whole whips, chains, hand cuffs, blood letting, saran wrap, swings, even dabbling in branding, blah blah blah. It is fun...yes, exciting...invigorating...but, sometimes, a girl just wants to be caressed, petted, adored. I just want to purr like a kitten wrapped in the warmth of its mother's belly. Is that too much to want? Maybe. It doesn't have to be about the big "O"...Maybe I want too much. Maybe I should do another line. I know I said in many other pieces I've written that I haven't thought much about sex. And I haven't, really. But I have thought about the intimacy. I miss it. I don't want it every night, or every day...by any means. I've felt suffocated by all of the women I have been with since living in Atlanta. But, I just, I just want to have it- the intimacy. The precious. The thought- worth another line. I'm better off alone in every sense of the word. Okay, onto other topics- and further lines. I wanted to grow my hair out, but now, it is too long. I wanted to lose some weight, but 95 pounds is too little for me anymore. My clothes don't fit. A stranger from another world, from another time, I have become. I made vegetable soup tonight. Ate a bowl. Tried to keep it down. Came back up as if a torrential storm has invaded my body. It's time. Time for a line. Time for further pages of my book(s). Time for the enveloping of my bed. Time for another line. Time. It is just time.