OK, so read the bullshit that I wrote just a few days ago and saved to post up today.
I had no internet and couldn't post it up.
What a stupid wanker! It's really funny to think that one can fool oneself of a situation.
I'm not angry with myself. but I think it's quite a funny thing to look back on. The fact is I did it so easily. There was hardly any resistance. But that means I wanted to break the programme, in my heart of hearts I know I did manufacture this. I wanted it, made this happen. And I enjoyed every minute.
And over a cup of tea with a friend last night before I met with the particular, he predicted my fall.
I never like people being right. Ever.
But now I have to go on to say, if I had to be involved with any one, I'm glad in some ways that it was him.
I am also glad that I have withstood two months, and as you can see from the evidence, it has been very challenging.
I am really proud of my time, thought and discussion. I do think that I want to keep my sexuality close and a bit more sacred. God that does sound very like my mother. But it is true. It's been difficult and heartbreaking, but I have learnt a hell of a lot of stuff.
Monday, 30 November 2009
why are people right?
I haven’t concluded because I haven’t finished. And I haven’t written because there has been too little, yet too much to write about.
Things got easier and easier. The desire, the taste of impulse has died as it does with any sort of addiction. Yes, I can admit now that it was becoming an addiction. There was this haze around my sexual morals that wiped out anything that I cared about. So I guess in some ways it was an addiction. Although that word makes me feel fairly uneasy. I mean, Eureka Johnson was a sex addict. And I never found myself in really dodgy situations, more just stupid and uncomfortable ones. Ones where I knew I was hurting people and damaging any sort of friendship with my self.
Now I have plateau somewhat. The days of drawing people into a luscious sense of dark desire have died down. But still there burning, just a little. Now it has become much lighter, everything has. Even the common flirt. I can do it with who I want because I know there can be no continue into anything else.
The other day I met again with my rain man (ref. back to ‘Rain Man’ chapter) and there was a spark. I liked the spark because I could fantasise without any repercussions. He knows my situation, although with one touch on my arm he can make me weak. And he did as we were talking to a friend in the street. We were talking about work; the mundane chatter that happens on Friday lunchtime. Trying to finally round up the week and fill in time before you can peel back into lights and long walks in the dark and rain and bed. And all I could feel was his arm on mine and the longing of his touch sent me somewhere else.
Things got easier and easier. The desire, the taste of impulse has died as it does with any sort of addiction. Yes, I can admit now that it was becoming an addiction. There was this haze around my sexual morals that wiped out anything that I cared about. So I guess in some ways it was an addiction. Although that word makes me feel fairly uneasy. I mean, Eureka Johnson was a sex addict. And I never found myself in really dodgy situations, more just stupid and uncomfortable ones. Ones where I knew I was hurting people and damaging any sort of friendship with my self.
Now I have plateau somewhat. The days of drawing people into a luscious sense of dark desire have died down. But still there burning, just a little. Now it has become much lighter, everything has. Even the common flirt. I can do it with who I want because I know there can be no continue into anything else.
The other day I met again with my rain man (ref. back to ‘Rain Man’ chapter) and there was a spark. I liked the spark because I could fantasise without any repercussions. He knows my situation, although with one touch on my arm he can make me weak. And he did as we were talking to a friend in the street. We were talking about work; the mundane chatter that happens on Friday lunchtime. Trying to finally round up the week and fill in time before you can peel back into lights and long walks in the dark and rain and bed. And all I could feel was his arm on mine and the longing of his touch sent me somewhere else.
Monday, 16 November 2009
bitter finish?
Yesterday was meant to be my finale, the end of it.
A brilliantly enlightening ending. Instead I only wished it to continue.
The beauty of chastity, or what ever this has now become, is that it? Something to hide behind?
Just another way to control a situation, to be on top (excuse the pun).
It has become a vail, a form of protection from a part of something that I'm not sure how to control. And I don't want to stop it just like that, not for just anyone. I guess this experiment has taught me the beauty of not jumping so soon. To keep a distance from those who with all good intentions have leached somewhat. Maybe it is the sex that leaches.
I was quizzed that night on why I was doing it. At my age I should indeed be in the prime of my sexual adventures, but I have realized that this is exactly that. It is an exploration of my own boundaries.
I've noticed much more the eyes that I first started writing about. They follow me, but before I was blind to it. The only problem is, how to deal with them. How do you turn them away, all I want to do is stare back at them.
But that is just not done.
Will I now have to be the demure virginal thing, with eyes to the floor, covering the face with hair?
The reality is walking down the street getting abuse for some guy on a bike while I talk to my mother on the phone, or get shouted at by the road workers when all I want is a light for my cigarette. I just scream back.
A brilliantly enlightening ending. Instead I only wished it to continue.
The beauty of chastity, or what ever this has now become, is that it? Something to hide behind?
Just another way to control a situation, to be on top (excuse the pun).
It has become a vail, a form of protection from a part of something that I'm not sure how to control. And I don't want to stop it just like that, not for just anyone. I guess this experiment has taught me the beauty of not jumping so soon. To keep a distance from those who with all good intentions have leached somewhat. Maybe it is the sex that leaches.
I was quizzed that night on why I was doing it. At my age I should indeed be in the prime of my sexual adventures, but I have realized that this is exactly that. It is an exploration of my own boundaries.
I've noticed much more the eyes that I first started writing about. They follow me, but before I was blind to it. The only problem is, how to deal with them. How do you turn them away, all I want to do is stare back at them.
But that is just not done.
Will I now have to be the demure virginal thing, with eyes to the floor, covering the face with hair?
The reality is walking down the street getting abuse for some guy on a bike while I talk to my mother on the phone, or get shouted at by the road workers when all I want is a light for my cigarette. I just scream back.
Thursday, 5 November 2009
a book often read
Someone asked me today, what is it that you want?
I paused on my cigarette and felt the smoke burn the back of my throat. The inches of life it must be chipping away, the age it was shoveling upon my skin. Not that I cared in that moment, or do I care now. There is so much that I want in life, the indescribable things, the things that draw you nearer to someone while they speak to you of their life. The feeling you get as you walk out of the house in the morning and see the buildings so solid in their place and lift up into the sky that is peppered with birds.
For so long one can look for it, what ever it is. I have tied myself in balls, so unreachable these thoughts, this thing that we try to capture. But I now ask, why capture it? It only flies away with the slyness of a cat to another. For then we look greenly on others who apparently have it.
Today, I can happily say that I have it, and I do not have it. I can pause and feel that the life rides through me and around me and it is OK.
I do not wish to keep this, as I will only fail.
But have I failed? On a kiss, on a touch from another? No it is me that sets the boundaries that contain me.
I have, regrettably carried on with a particular that I do wish to let go of. Why is it so easy to fall into something and so hard to fall out? This is not a mistake, but something to learn from. Not to fall into something that I know from the moment it reaches my thoughts.
It is an interesting musing. That one knows the moment they embrace someone the way it will end.
It is like racing to the final page of a book while you are standing in the bookshop waiting for your change. Why then proceed to the door? For kicks, for the knowledge that you have conquered that person, that moment?
No, because we have a little faith, that some how we can change something in our own fable. Transform our story to another's, for a happier, rosier life.
I hope one day I will arrive at a place, maybe a cafe in Russia, or in a dive in San Francisco where the lights are dim and the music is loud. And meet a stranger. He will look up and order me a drink with all but a gesture. And I will not read his last line to me, because the book will never be quite finished.
I paused on my cigarette and felt the smoke burn the back of my throat. The inches of life it must be chipping away, the age it was shoveling upon my skin. Not that I cared in that moment, or do I care now. There is so much that I want in life, the indescribable things, the things that draw you nearer to someone while they speak to you of their life. The feeling you get as you walk out of the house in the morning and see the buildings so solid in their place and lift up into the sky that is peppered with birds.
For so long one can look for it, what ever it is. I have tied myself in balls, so unreachable these thoughts, this thing that we try to capture. But I now ask, why capture it? It only flies away with the slyness of a cat to another. For then we look greenly on others who apparently have it.
Today, I can happily say that I have it, and I do not have it. I can pause and feel that the life rides through me and around me and it is OK.
I do not wish to keep this, as I will only fail.
But have I failed? On a kiss, on a touch from another? No it is me that sets the boundaries that contain me.
I have, regrettably carried on with a particular that I do wish to let go of. Why is it so easy to fall into something and so hard to fall out? This is not a mistake, but something to learn from. Not to fall into something that I know from the moment it reaches my thoughts.
It is an interesting musing. That one knows the moment they embrace someone the way it will end.
It is like racing to the final page of a book while you are standing in the bookshop waiting for your change. Why then proceed to the door? For kicks, for the knowledge that you have conquered that person, that moment?
No, because we have a little faith, that some how we can change something in our own fable. Transform our story to another's, for a happier, rosier life.
I hope one day I will arrive at a place, maybe a cafe in Russia, or in a dive in San Francisco where the lights are dim and the music is loud. And meet a stranger. He will look up and order me a drink with all but a gesture. And I will not read his last line to me, because the book will never be quite finished.
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