Evasion

I can't think into the heat of what I've been feeling, so I'm giving you different words today. I've got two days to prepare myself and of course I'm a bit paralyzed.

The photo is of a bit of mixed media art I purchased from etsy, something inspired by one of my own favorite poems, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Eliot).

I haven't hung it yet. I like to touch this painting, it is full of texture. It's not grand, and wasn't meant to be. Like Prufrock. Like me.

Girl with Curls

Not 10 minutes from where I live is the Dali museum. I've been there once. I admit that I'm not a huge fan of museums, simply because I like to ponder and digest, not cruise. Museums overwhelm me. It probably seems just the opposite, since I often will go from room to room at a rapid clip, unless something stops me in my tracks.

The painting from the photo is a Dali, one of his earlier works. All of those eye-tricking complexities that he painted didn't capture me nearly like this one. I liked the perspective, this simple girl a giant against the landscape, and the earthy seduction of the curves of her.

I bought a print of it, it hangs in my living room.

Spread Open and Pinned Against a Wall

It was explained to me this way, my moment of not doing as asked...

I deliberately chose that which would bring me to immediate submission, without the prettiness and niceties and how do you do's.

That is a startling revelation, and the truth of it gave me a release that the disobedience did not provide.

I have never felt so fileted, so skinless.

It's this - so many years of treating a brain anomaly with a mallet, when that troublesome spot needed instead the sharp and insistent focus of a laser.

Those earlier strides forward, so confident and self-assured, have changed into a cringing belly crawl. Still the right direction, but with deference and awareness.

I have no way of exiting, not now. I will be dealt with. There are no more buts, what ifs, my endless list of conditions and qualifications. I must accept that, I must keep myself from a wrong step while letting my fear catch up to acceptance.

Gray Matters

I did something I was asked not to do. I say asked, because it's not to the point of being told. But that line is very fine. I confessed, not in my former "aren't I a naughty girl" laughingly unaware way. Just a confession. I did this. With the full knowledge that it will somehow be dealt with. And that dealing with it will undoubtedly be quite unpleasant.

I'm not writing this down to bring attention to the disobedience, or to show how careless I am with your attention. I'm trying to dig into the meat of why I deliberately chose to disobey when I actually did not want to, what little wiggly bit in my brain is suddenly acting out of turn, and why?

Really, I Can't Resist...

I think it must be vanity, wanting to share little pieces of my flesh with you.

1. Do you like bleu cheese?
Does anyone not get that the BLEU part is MOLD?

2. Have you ever smoked heroin?
Nope, and not interested.

3. Do you own a gun?
Is THAT what's in your pocket, Mister?

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic?
I can't remember the last time I went to Sonic, so let's change that to Starbucks. And the answer is a shot of espresso and sometimes a bit of hazelnut.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
Not in the least. I find doctors to be calming, reassuring, authoritative and...oh no. Another fetish.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
Anything that is a byproduct shouldn't go in your body. (But I love 'em, dang it, specially the ones at baseball parks).

7. Favorite Christmas Song?
Baby, It's Cold Outside, but I'm not sure how much that is about Christmas.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Coffee, and lots of it.

9. Can you do push ups?
Probably not.

10. What was the name of your first girlfriend/boyfriend?
It was 5th grade. I remember he gave me a ring from Avon. I don't remember his name now...

11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
My commit to me band, with the words 'to thine own self be true' engraved on the inside.

12. Favorite hobby?
Reading. Unless masturbation counts.

13. Do you work with people who idolize you?
I hope not.

14. Do you have A.D.D.?
I'm not sure I underst...hey, look at the birdy. (No, I don't. I'm actually very focused).

15. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself?
Procrastination.

16. Middle name?
Something very country.

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
a)Who gets adult acne, really? this is so big I'm giving it a name. Esther. I hope it's gone by Wednesday.
b)I still haven't gone shopping.
c)Isn't there any chocoloate in the house?

18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday.
a) paper
c) lunch
d) coffee

19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink.
a) coffee
b) water
c) sprite

20. Current worry right now?
Nothing. I'm on a two-week vacation.

21. Current hate right now?
Hate is such a strong word...oh yeah. Sarah Palin.

22. Favorite place to be?
A log cabin during winter, with a fireplace, in the mountains of East Tennessee.

23. How did you bring in the New Year?
Watching the ball drop. Alone. Sniff.

24. Where would you like to go?
Iceland. Ireland. Other places spelled like Iceland and Ireland.

25. Name three people who will complete this?
Luna already did. Hmm. Probably no one else, they don't share our love of being tagged.

26. Whose answer would you want to read the most?
Tomstumblinthru.

27. What color shirt are you wearing?
Smoky blue.

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
No, I prefer high thread count cotton. I almost typed tread, which would have made that a much different answer.

29. Can you whistle?
Only while sucking air in, isn't that weird?

30. Favorite color(s)?
Blue.

31. Would you be a pirate?
Absofuckinglutely!

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?
Anything to make my dogs laugh.

33. Favorite girl’s name?
Oddly enough, the same name that Luna picked, but with a different spelling. Madeleine.

34. Favorite boy’s name?
I've always been partial to Ian, though I'm not sure why.

35. What’s in your pocket right now?
$27 and some lint.

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
Making fun of one of my male friends for being attracted to an admittedly crazy chick (not crazy sexy, but crazy get the lithium).

37. Best bed sheets as a child?
Flannel!

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had?
I've never broken a bone, can you imagine? And yet, I fall down a lot.

39. Do you love where you live?
Right now I do.

40. How many TVs do you have in your house?
Two.

41. Who is your loudest friend?
I don't really gravitate toward loud people. Which means...it's probably me.

42. How many dogs do you have?
Two. Wanna see pictures?

43. Does someone have a crush on you?
I don't know, but I have a crush on YOU.

44. Who is your favorite president?
Abraham Lincoln.

45. What is your favorite book?
The Robber Bride. Or anything by Madeleine L'Engle.

46. What is your favorite candy?
Mmmm. Toblerone.

47. What is your favorite sports team?
I LOVE minor league baseball. (Remember the hot dogs?)

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Hmm. I'm going to have to do a new playlist just in case. I know Rusted Root's Send Me On My Way will be at the top of the list (chew-tube it).

49. What were you doing 12 AM last night?
On the couch after falling asleep while watching the Presidential Debate. Just saying that made me yawn.

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?
Shut UP, CNN.

Zen and the Art of Submissive Maintenance

Since the gas prices started climbing, I've been practicing more efficient driving. This includes making fewer trips (which certainly dovetails into my hermit nature quite nicely) and driving more smartly. No A/C if I don't absolutely need it, no driving over the speed limit (actually, I CAN drive 55, Mr. Hagar), coasting to stops, gradual acceleration. I've gotten accustomed to the right lane. And surprisingly, no one seems to care. A year ago, a slow driver on the U.S. interstate system would have been abused by others, but not these days.

And it's amazing what you notice when suddenly the focus isn't to beat your best time, or pass that car, or block that guy from changing lanes...I get to see dolphins, if I'm lucky. I get to watch the ospreys catching fish with those horrible claws.

But it's not just about what you get to see when you slow down, it's the slight zen transcendence you achieve when you do it. My drives to work (to anywhere) are relaxing, meditative.

There is a correlation here that I can't quite put my finger on. My submissiveness, too, has turned all zen-like. Neither fast nor slow, though...more like a lever has been flipped. Someone pressed my easy button.

"when are we going to get going?" Chris says.
"what's your hurry?" I ask.
"I just want to get going."
"There's nothing up ahead that's any better than it is right here."

-Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Winter of Kukkutasana

For the past few days, the normal oppressive humidity of Florida has lifted. It seems if you pay attention, you can find fall here. But instead of making you think of football and sweatshirts and morning frost, there is the same hope and blush of spring that I remember from other climates. Winter, when it comes, is no worse than a pair of gloves and a lightweight coat. There is something curiously liberating about knowing the worst of the year is behind you instead of in front of you.

It suits my state of change.

A bothersome task before is an exciting challenge now. That is such a simple statement, but the effect produced in every action and thought is immense, and impossible to articulate well. It is pleasing me to please.

Like a yoga pose that is difficult. I've sweated and cursed and nearly given up, only to find that one day I contort into place naturally, with little effort. It's shocking and you want to show anyone with the patience to watch.

Note: Kukkutasana is a tough one for girls with big asses, and its translation is Cock Pose. And yes, it makes me giggle.

Secrets

Even here, we dance around the truth. A fetish checklist veiled by what is socially appropriate within a narrowly defined slice of a subsociety. (Ha. Subsociety.)

Should I tell all my secrets?

The truth is, I'm pliable enough to bend to the easy or hard of whomever chooses me/I choose.

Those things that I hold tight in my dirty taboo-driven fantasies, if they never see the light of day, does it matter?

If I'm never forcibly held into someone's cunt and made to pleasure her, I'll live. If I'm never made to watch you fuck her and not look away, everything will be fine. If you don't ever feel the need to brand your name onto my hip, it doesn't make me any less yours. If you don't want to give my pussy or ass or mouth to your friends as a lesson in subjugation, well, I guess I will learn it another way. If the thought of making me dependent on your approval for any pleasure doesn't make you happy, I suppose I can keep buying AA batteries.

And yes, that's the truth. The pretty truth. But the ugly truth is that I want all of that, and much much more. Only it's not about what I want, is it?

Heroes and Nightgowns

You were in my dream. There was a farm, and the stable was overcrowded and filthy. I was walking down a narrow aisle between the rows of stalls, and there you were. In tight jeans and a tucked in shirt, leading a horse to safety. Your lopsided grin when you saw me was full of something wonderful. The rest of the dream...the squalid conditions, the awful smell, the sadness for the animals I felt, it went up in a puff when I saw that smile.

In last night's dream, I was in class. In a nightgown. Not a sexy nightgown, by the way, but this long country cotton shift with ruffles and little delicate buttons. 

I understand the first dream. My subconscious still considers you my hero, and I'd been watching animal cops houston before going to bed. 

But I really have no idea on the second one.

Tactile

Long ago I retrained myself to write gracefully. Not the words, but the act of putting pen to paper. I practiced for weeks. A A A A a a a a. B B B B b b b b. It worked. I have excellent penmanship.

But I rarely use it. My longhand notes at work are purely for my own use, not for the enjoyment of others. But I do keep a little journal, sometimes pre-blogging there, or jotting stream-of-consciousness phrases that long to be made into poems. 

Yesterday I found some lovely note cards. Beautiful paper, very textured, with gilt envelopes. Now I am leafing through my address book, wondering where to send them...

I don't want to be here now, the product of an experience I can't quite remove from my head. This silence is a step back, a deep breath. 

Namaste.