The Joy of Excess
I haven't read the story tgstonebutch quotes in this entry, but I love the quote.
"Reid had always been told that she felt too much, wanted too much, had too much passion and lust and energy. When she was with a woman who was really big and strong, she felt as if she had a place to pour all that intensity without destroying the vessel."
from "Big Girls", printed in Melting Point, by Pat Califia
I'm not a person of size, nor is my musculature bulky, but this quote captures so well how I feel about SM. It's a space to overflow, to devour, to need more, the blood and meat of it staining your teeth, the sight of motion pricking your eyes, and the knowledge that you could, maybe would, devour them all in one gulp if they came close enough...
It's what I love about metal music too, which I think of as SM for your ears anyway. And opera, too, come to think of it. The intensity, the overflow, battering your senses and making you more than you are. Demanding that you rise to it, flesh or spirit or both, make it yours so it doesn't dash you bloody on the rocks.
How I could turn my back on this now that I've found it, for soft caresses and quiet singing, that thing locked in me, the whirlpool safe, the maelstrom never swallowing me or washing prey with its salt, I simply don't know.
"Reid had always been told that she felt too much, wanted too much, had too much passion and lust and energy. When she was with a woman who was really big and strong, she felt as if she had a place to pour all that intensity without destroying the vessel."
from "Big Girls", printed in Melting Point, by Pat Califia
I'm not a person of size, nor is my musculature bulky, but this quote captures so well how I feel about SM. It's a space to overflow, to devour, to need more, the blood and meat of it staining your teeth, the sight of motion pricking your eyes, and the knowledge that you could, maybe would, devour them all in one gulp if they came close enough...
It's what I love about metal music too, which I think of as SM for your ears anyway. And opera, too, come to think of it. The intensity, the overflow, battering your senses and making you more than you are. Demanding that you rise to it, flesh or spirit or both, make it yours so it doesn't dash you bloody on the rocks.
How I could turn my back on this now that I've found it, for soft caresses and quiet singing, that thing locked in me, the whirlpool safe, the maelstrom never swallowing me or washing prey with its salt, I simply don't know.