Diary of a Rampant Rabbit

Personal Trainer

2008-01-17T19:16:00.001Z

It transpires that friend's sister is studying to be a fitness trainer, and needs a project to complete her course. She has decided that I am that project, so I will now be eating healthily, exercising regularly, and quitting smoking. If I fail to do any of this then I have a promise that I will regret it under certain vague threats. On the plus side there is at least a reason for me to take up running. Exercising alone is, well, dull. Chasing after an attractive person who you really should not be doing certain things with adds a certain incentive, particularly when promises are made about what happens if you manage to keep up for the entire run.

I still do not like to write about work, so suffice it to say that I am applying for yet another job that I would like but am unlikely to get. Got to be worth a try. I may be travelling to America at some point in the future for a residential training course. Looking forward to that, especially as with any luck I will even be travelling to a place near Mystery. She does not know that yet though, and I do not want to tell her until I have it confirmed, so keep it quiet everyone.

Lack of Imagination

2008-01-09T15:02:00.000Z

For some reason my brain has just switched off for the time being, or at least to be occupied with other matters than writing blog stuff. I am still trying though, since its relaxing to write now and then. Most of the writing I have been doing recently has been a story I am working on, more for my own entertainment than anything else. Still trying to get more time at work as well.

Actually my mind does not seem to be so much switched off as scrappy and wandering, I keep getting distracted and bored with things. I can focus for a short time, but not long, and I do not know why. To be honest I rather dislike it, I always used to be able to hyperfocus on things, ignoring everything else around me while, for example, I read a book, listened to music, played a game, wrote, practically anything. Now I seem to be unable to concentrate on such things for more than a minute or two at most before my mind starts wandering.

On the other hand I also seem to be a lot more content with life at the moment, much more at peace and settled with things. I do not know if this calmness has to do with my new inability to over-focus, or if it is related to the fact that I have lost my rage and bitterness at the world, my dissatisfaction and irritation at things. Maybe it is just because of the winter. I hope so, I do not like being in this sort of state. I miss my passion in life, even if at times I do not enjoy it. I am comfortable enough, but everything seems grey and dull these days. Comfort is not nearly enough, life is far too simple at the moment. I need some chaos. Maybe it is a form of masochism, maybe not, but things are just far too easy. I need the storm to arrive.

Oops

2008-01-08T00:44:00.000Z

Oh well, so much for behaving. I have this to say for the friend's sister, she's a good kisser at least. Not the smartest apple in the harvest, but sod it, I have no interest in feeling guilt any more. If I did I would never get anywhere. Nothing has gone further yet, and I suppose it may not, but frankly I am currently horny and lack the money to travel in order to acquire any simpler satisfaction.

Of course as I have said before something in me craves complications in life. We will see what happens this weekend, when I have the house to myself for a while and may have visitors. With luck it may be Russian visiting instead, but still I have only got as far as hugs with her, and chatter. I suspect that is as far as I will ever get, not necessarily because she actually believes me and takes me seriously, but more likely because I actually like her. That is rather a novelty for me, while I do not like to hurt people it is mostly due to the fact that I do not like to be a bad guy. In the case of Russian, and a few others, it is because I actually give a damn. Quite a novelty indeed.

I am mildly drunk at the moment so this entry may not be incredibly consistent, not to mention that the time is rather late, or early depending on how you look at it and I have had a busy day of trying to outwit players. I also miss Mystery, rather a lot, since I have not had time to speak to her recently. She may well not read this, in fact she probably will not, but I still hope that she can make it her soon.

Work is being complicated, I still need to find a way to get myself full-time work rather than simply part-time. I need the extra money, and I need to find a way to use the time that I would otherwise be at work for. At least I need to find a way which is in some way productive and useful, rather than simply sitting and scheming to myself. Tomorrow I meet Russian for coffee again, looking forward to that. I will let you know how it all goes.

I just do not seem to have much to write about at the moment, suggestions, comments or questions are more than welcome. I have a need to write but seem to be unable to think of anything to write about.

Where is my Snow?

2008-01-05T12:15:00.000Z

Snow means a lot of different things to me, one of the main ones being that I do not have to work if it snows. Above and beyond the fact that I get a free holiday, however, is the chance that snow gives me to just act like a child with no guilt or shame. I can run outside, grabbing friends or family members, and build a snowman or start having a snowball fight without any criticism or disparaging looks. Everyone relaxes just enough to enjoy the snow, regardless of their age, and remembers for a little while how to play.

It is something that most people seem to forget as they get older, the ability to simply play without letting all of the restrictions we feel as adults get in the way. So often we take things too seriously to laugh at them, or find ourselves in too sombre a mood to enjoy the things we wish we could. We mention that things are petty or childish, because it makes us feel older and more important to do so, ignoring the fact that we would secretly love to do those things.

I have been accused by friends, and others, many times of treating life like a game and of not taking anything seriously enough. The problem I find is that when people accuse me of treating life like a game, they often seem to assume that I am playing it as such in order to win some mystical shining prize. As with many other games which I play, I know there is no way to win, the aim is to enjoy getting to the end and have a good time with the other people playing as you do so.

Resolutions

2008-01-03T07:53:00.000Z

So what will I be resolving to do this year? I am not quite sure myself yet, but there are certain things that I have made a definite decision on.

Put effort into whatever I am wearing - No longer am I going to opt for the easy route of jeans and whichever t-shirt I happen to grab. On the rare occasions that I will not be wearing some sort of suit my outfit will now be carefully considered and thought through. I will also be on a continual search for ties, hats, cufflinks, waistcoats and the like, not to mention such styles as a hard-boiled detective ensemble, or pin-stripe gangster suit. I have finally grown bored of the blending in which my normal clothes allow, and decided to go in the opposite direction, not to make a statement as such, merely to stand out a little more than I do already.
Reduce the amount of cigarettes I get through - I am not going to try and simply quit overnight, that would be foolish, but I do intend to try and cut down on the number of cigarettes that I smoke until I can get by on one every couple of days. Of course, there is no guarantee this will work.
Be more organised - For once I am actually keeping track of money, appointments and so on in a little diary. If I can keep this up then I might even be able to avoid double-booking arrangements as I have many times before, and avoiding my overdraft would be pleasant as well. I am also keeping track of names and phone numbers in another book, for the inevitable moment when I lose my phone.

That is all for now, but I may add more later if I think of any or if anyone suggests any. In other news for the day, the acquaintance's sister has tracked down my phone number by temporarily stealing her brother's phone. I could have warned him that telling her to keep away from me would not work, but there you go. Moderate levels of flirting ensued but mostly the conversation simply consisted of friendly talking.

The cast-list cleanup will be occuring tomorrow, or tonight if I get back from a meal with Russian early enough.

Back to Normality

2008-01-02T12:17:00.000Z

Back to work today, always seems slightly unreal after the frenetic activity of the holidays to return to an office where my basic duty is to sit and stare at a screen, while pretending to be doing something productive. That is even what I am doing now, sitting here acting as though I am researching a new system and working on a project proposal rather than typing out a blog entry. I will probably begin to blog more often again now, since the mad rush is over and I should have more time to myself. Of course, Wintereenmas is coming up and I have various preparations to carry out for that, not to mention organising various parties and gatherings.

For those of you who may not know about Wintereenmas, it is a holiday designed to help fill the gap between Christmas and Easter, and is a celebration of all things game-related, whether they be computer games, board games, card games or anything else. LAN parties and gaming nights are traditional seasonal celebrations, and the week of celebration itself is always the last week of January. The rest of January is usually taken up, as with Christmas, in gearing up and preparing for the season. Decorations are made and strung, board games are laid out with care, computers are cleaned and polished and games are installed upon them. Essentially Wintereenmas is an excuse to get together with a whole group of friends, get drunk, and have fun, not necessarily in that order. This year I will be trying to take full advantage of the holiday by gathering as many friends as I can for all forms of gaming.

Going back to the holidays past, things have been hectic to say the least. New Years was a round-the-world affair beginning in Australia at midday, with a barbeque, and working around the world until we reached England. Then of course everyone was pulled from their beds early in the morning for a large American breakfast, involving pancakes, waffles and champagne. I was mixing cocktails for most of the night, and for once was not having to deal with any members of the female persuasion as I decided to deliberately ring this New Year in alone, with just family and friends. It made a nice change to be able to just be myself for a while, and be able to be selfish.

I also decided not to really worry about resolutions, though I have made a decision to improve my style of dress. Any attempt I may have made to quit smoking for New Years was quickly discarded as the huge relief that the first cigarette of the new year granted me quickly discarded any good intentions I may have had.

Appropriate to a New Year, I will be starting the cast list over. It will be wiped clean and only those who are still around this year will be included, but that will be done when I get home from work. Or when I get bored and my boss' back is turned, whichever comes soonest. Other changes or resolutions will be announced as they crystallize in my mind.

Oh, and the acquaintance's sister has been in touch. Apparently she searched through her brother's room in order to find my phone number so that she could text me a New Year message. This must be kept quiet, since supposedly she has been warned to keep away from me and not talk to me. I feel more than a little aggrieved at this sort of treatment. It seems that certain people have absolutely no understanding of human nature.

Philosophy of Life

2007-12-28T10:12:00.000Z

It is only recently, in fact over this very Christmas period, that I have really come to appreciate the fact that I do indeed have a new outlook on life. My massive well of bitterness, cynicism and anger at the way the world is does indeed still remain but I no longer allow it to interfere with the small pleasures I try to take in everything. I have heard people talk about living in the moment, or living each day as your last, and these philosophies seem to be the closest to the way I now see things but still miss certain aspects that I find essential.

Take wine, a good example. A glass of wine with a meal is something which many people do take some sort of pleasure in, though I suspect the vast majority of people in this day and age simply drink it as many would have once drunk water, milk, or something similar with their meal. To most it seems to be simply something to accompany the meal, nothing in and of itself. To a connoisseur of wine then the wine is possibly the major aspect of the meal, but still they miss something. The wine itself can be savoured and tasted, enjoyed, remembered. The way that the wine may compliment the meal, or not as the case may be, is equally as important and as much pleasure can be taken in that. Each experience can indeed be new, even if it is one you have felt before.

Many times I have walked in the rain, simply out of enjoyment. Today I found myself caught outside without my hat, and I do not yet have an umbrella. Many began to dash for the nearest shelter, hurrying along, suddenly desperate to be elsewhere, out of this meteorological phenomena which they have decided is unpleasant. It was cold, chill throughout and I was near-shivering already, but I did not, and still do not, believe that hurrying to escape this, joining the mad rush for crowded shelter, would in any way benefit my health. Instead I paused for a moment, tilting my head back and letting the rain strike my face, damping my hair and trickling down my neck. The fact that it could be considered a pleasant or unpleasant experience was not something I was interested in at that time. Merely that it was an experience, a sensation that I have experienced before and probably will again but never in quite the same way.

Living in the moment implies an impetuousness. Seize the moment, grab the now, worry nothing for the past or the future, simply live now. I oppose this most strongly. The past makes us who we are, the tragedies and traumas of it combine to become the aspects of our personality. There is nothing to be ashamed of in the past, though I would not relate certain events to various people for reasons that only I need to know, but the past is gone. If you hold on to what is slipping away, you will be trapped by it, but if you let it go completely then you have nothing from before. Have no regrets for what is gone, no matter what it may be. Mourn when appropriate, and then smile and laugh afterwards. There are times when we feel sad and we should indulge ourselves in those moments, but we should not draw them out any longer than we have to.

No more should we artificially try to extend moments of joy and happiness, pleasant though they may be. Our minds themselves know when the moments are past and trying to force them to remain will simply seperate us from the world.

I suppose that is the main point. Do not live in the past. Do not live in the future. Do not live in the present. Live, be, experience. Sorrow, joy, guilt, freedom, hatred, love, pleasure, pain, accept all of them simply for what they are, and neither expect nor try to make them or yourself anything more. Certainly try and change things, advance yourself if you wish, sink if you wish, but do it for yourself rather than because you feel you should. What matters is what you want, what you think is right, not what others tell you or what you feel should be so.

Man-Flu

2007-12-27T11:06:00.000Z

I have always found this term amazingly insulting, particularly since it was first used of me when I was in my younger years, and shortly after it was used I was diagnosed with pneumonia, hospitalised for a month and effectively bed-ridden for another five after that. That was fun. Hallucinations, respiratory problems whenever I tried to so much as move, and according to various people I was simply suffering from man-flu.

Anyway the reason I am bringing this up now is that I am suffering from flu. I am not suffering from man-flu, where the basic symptoms are of a cold but the apparent suffering is worthy of the black death. In fact soon, as I have been for the last few days of suffering, I will drag myself from my bed, check to see whether my temperature is maintaining its average of 104C, pull on clothes to suit my new look, and make myself be active without complaining. All of the complaining I may have wished to do, but refrained from, the last few days will be occuring in this post.

Each of the last few nights I have spent several hours wrapped up in a thick duvet, with three portable electric heaters blasting huge quantities of heat at me. This is an attempt to feel warm, or at least not cold enough to have chattering teeth and be shivering. My head feels like it has been carefully stuffed with cotton wool, and my nose feels like someone has stuffed corks into it. My throat meanwhile feels like I have deepthroated someone wearing a sandpaper condom. All in all, I do not feel particularly well, and the next person to accuse me of whining or having man-flu will be subjected to a sound verbal, and if I feel up to it physical, thrashing.

So now I need to concentrate on concealing my symptoms, in order to meet Russian to go to the cinema tonight. Should be interesting at least. I still cannot quite figure out whether or not I could push my luck with her and get away with it, and until I do so I am not taking the risk. I should also be visiting Sweetie some time in the next few days, before the New Year, and my moral dilemma has been heightened once again. See, before it was just that I was willing to potentially have some fun with my friend's sister, nothing serious. Now however he has threatened me, trying to scare me off her. I do not take threats well.

Little Sinner Nic

2007-12-25T17:09:00.000Z

I can tell you all now that Christmas day is a bad time to realise that you have run out of cigarettes, nicotine gum, tobacco and fixings, pipe tobacco, lozenges, inhaler cartridges or any other product which contains nicotine. I have managed to keep a calm head throughout most of the day, right up until the last minute when I had to leave the family meal and walk home, hoping to regain control of my temper and stop the nicotine withdrawal fit which I was suffering from

For anyone who may not understand, do not start smoking, but I feel that I should explain the reason that a nicotine fit can be unpleasant. Nicotine is a sedative, which helps to suppress and calm anxieties. Essentially it is an artificial coping mechanism for times of stress. Unfortunately when this coping mechanism is removed, the anxieties feel much worse, and with the other effects that withdrawal brings the phrase 'I would kill for a cigarette' could easily become literal. My mind still is not quite straight now, even though I managed to acquire a half-pack.

Which brings me to the second part of the story. On the walk home I passed a gaggle of girls or young women, of indeterminate age, chattering and smoking. Passed may be the wrong word. A nicotine fit can massively heighten certain senses, at least I find it can, and from several hundred yards away I tracked the smell of smoke to the group. I then had to think of a way to seperate these people from their nicotine, which took me a few seconds to plan while 'Merry Christmas's' were exchanged, and were replied to with rather drunken hails in response. My cunning plan was then complete, and I requested a cigarette, explaining carefully that my sanity may be at stake and hoping that my rather snappy clothing would help speak for me, not to mention my recently neatened goatee and charming hat.

They did. One of the girls handed me a cigarette, and another asked if I would be alright for the rest of the day. I expressed doubt and, with giggles that I hope were due to alcohol rather than youth, one of the girls offered me the remains of a pack in exchange for a kiss. Now what worries me is that in various films and popular culture cigarettes are prison currency, and essentially I traded sexual favours for a few of them. The sexual favours were extremely limited, and involved no more than a little tongue and a touch of wandering hands, but does this now make me a prison bitch?

Oh, and I got a phone number out of the deal as well. I really need to start printing up business cards. All I need to do now is hope that the girl in question is indeed legal. I suspect that she is, although that may merely be optimism.

Coffee Addiction

2007-12-24T15:52:00.000Z

I have been spending far too much time in coffee shops recently. Admittedly this time has been spent in very pleasant company. Russian is easy to talk to, squishy in all the right places, wriggly, ticklish, and seems to be completely and utterly disinterested in anything other than friendly flirting, frustatingly enough. Of course I could be misreading, since she does keep asking me to come meet her for coffee or alcohol, usually coffee. Either way, she is pleasant company.

The problem though is that any time I have an excuse to get out of the house at the moment, I pretty much have to take it. If I am at home then I am expected to do various different chores, fix computers, clean, cook, help wrap things, decorate, plan, make phone calls and so on. So I get out of the house a lot.

When I say a lot, I have so far this week been out for five cups of coffee with Russian and met her for drinks in the evening twice. The fact that she is a lot nearer to me than most of the Cast is convenient, though her apparent lack of interest is rather less useful.

The main point though is that I believe I have regained my caffeine addiction, not something I particularly wanted. On the other hand there is very little I would not do for possession of this coffee machine.

Christmas Shopping

2007-12-20T07:27:00.000Z

A large portion of my Christmas shopping is now done, certainly all of the family presents have been bought, wrapped, and put under the tree. They would have been anyway, if we had put the tree up yet. Decorating is almost always left to the last minute, or possibly even later, here so with luck the tree will be erected by Christmas Eve. Just do not expect my own Scroogey self to take part in the decorating of it, or any other part of the house. It is not that I do not like decorations, or Christmas, it is just that I find all of the tacky, glittery decorations so gaudy and overstated.

Were decorating to be left to me alone then it would consist of muted greens and reds, mainly in the form of holly and berries with a few pieces of mistletoe, place near doorways, windows and fireplaces. The rest would be candles scattered around carefully, lit in the evenings to try and chase away that cloying wintery darkness, so different from the crushing humid heat of summer, or its clear, fresh airiness if you happen to get lucky. Winter darkness is sweet-tasting, chill and close to the skin.

Anyway I have drifted away from the title of this post. The main point was to try and defend myself as not a Grinch-type character, despite what people at work may think. I do not dislike Christmas, I simply think it is overdone. As proof of this I offer my love of Christmas shopping. I delight in shouldering my way through crowds of cramped, irritable shoppers all searching for that one perfect present. I love the press of people, despite the mild claustrophobia it triggers in me, the sheer chaos of the shops so close to the big event itself. The gaudy decorations never look quite so bad in scale with much larger buildings than those they are usually put in, and the pitiful attempts at Christmas lights by the town council always amuse me.

Once the chaos has been fought and defeated, along with a trip to the supermarket to buy myself a bottle of wine for when I return home in an attempt to drown the adrenaline, the wrapping must be done. Massively overpriced decorated paper where brown parcel paper would make do must be tightly sealed around each gift, hiding the contents from prying eyes and fingers of the receiver as they sit under the tree, teasing with their presence but giving away nothing.

Yes, I enjoy Christmas, I just do not enjoy the overblown build-up to it.

Sanity Break

2007-12-19T22:53:00.000Z

I decided to take tonight as a sanity break, resting quietly in the pub with my iPod, a book, and several pints of cider to simply calm down for a while. Life has been so hectic recently that I have had no chance to just relax. My main decision through this has been that I will no longer struggle and try to force myself into trying to write a blog post each and every day. I will still be trying, but if nothing comes to mind then I will simply give up, and instead back-date an entry when one comes to mind.

Tomorrow I am working again, oh joy of joys, and plan to spend most of my time sitting in the office simply writing a short story for Saturday, or several Saturdays. I have quite a few hours to waste after all. Also, I have discovered a new grooming product, sort of, I have a mild fear that I may be turning into a metrosexual but I sincerely look forwards to my weekly salt-scrub now. Still undecided whether to stick with a goatee, or go for a plain beard.

Feel free to vote either way, but any beard will be short. If you really want to make a comparison then let me know via e-mail and I will send you pictures as necessary.

Moral Dilemma - Solved

2007-12-18T21:02:00.000Z

So maybe not exactly solved, but I have come to the conclusion that she is simply too cute and sweet-smelling to pass up. Besides all of that she is aware of my reputation, so it is hardly likely that there will be any serious drama with her. As to her brother, while he is a pleasant enough fellow I would not honestly count him as a friend. An acquaintance, maybe. Pleasant company, most definitely.

Maybe I am simply addicted to drama. I certainly feel more alive when events are in turmoil and chaos around me. No matter how much trouble or trauma it may cause, I much prefer living when things are uncertain than when I know exactly what is going on. People are simply too predictable to make life fun when they react rationally to things.

A Moral Dilemma

2007-12-17T22:20:00.000Z

Yes, occasionally I do hesitate because of morals, the few I have left. Essentially the sister of an acquaintance, not someone I have known long enough to really call a friend, is throwing herself at me. This is not a figure of speech, it is quite literal and was occuring while I was with said acquaintance and a few others drinking quietly in the pub. It was commented on by a few of the people present that it was happening, telling me that it was not a figment of my imagination.

Then again if my imagination can force me to hallucinate being jumped and having kisses pressed upon me when the sister of said acquaintance was leaving it is a lot more powerful than I thought. Now the lass is a little young, though still of legal age as evidenced by her presence in a public house of drinking, but the main problem here is the supposed unwritten rule that you do not sleep with your friend's families.

Personally I have never understood this rule, and still do not. Sure it can complicate things but frankly I do not see that it would bother me any more than a complete stranger with whom I share no common ground sleeping with my sister. In point of fact I strongly suspect it would bother me a lot less. It is not that I am planning to drag off the poor young girl and screw her the first chance I get, or at all really, but as I have said before I do find it difficult to say no, particularly to members of the female species with curvy bits in the right places, dirty smiles, and sulky eyes.

Before anyone asks she has been warned about my by various members of my group of friends, which I suspect is half of what has caused the dilemma to arise. Telling a young woman that a certain person is dangerous and sleeps around far too much is possibly not the best way to put their interest off them. Anyway, I will probably be seeing this girl again soon at the next gathering of my friends and am uncertain how to respond. I do not think being unnaturally unfriendly in order to try and discourage her is an option, as simply put I would feel guilty for that. I suspect I will end up being my usual self and simply flirting and joking as much as I usually would. All I can hope is that her brother does not challenge me to a duel in her honour.

Visiting Sweetie

2007-12-16T11:36:00.000Z

Last night I paid a pleasant visit to Sweetie for a few hours. A very pleasant visit. I apologise if this post is a little erratic but I am somewhat sleep deprived due to not returning home until four o'clock this morning and dragging myself straight to bed, eager to get away from the frost and chill in the air and into warmth and, more importantly, sleep.

Sweetie demonstrated a little more of herself than I am used to from her last night, not that I am complaining. I arrived at her flat only to find myself slammed up against the wall and being rapidly stripped, losing several buttons in the process as her hands tore at my clothes. Still slightly winded I was grabbed again, pushed down to the floor, straddled and pinned while she rode me until she orgasmed and collapsed on top of me, grinning.

I decided at this point to get a little revenge, shoving her off me, grabbing her hair and pulling her into the sitting room. Pushing her face-down over a sofa, her knees on the floor I proceeded to thoroughly fuck her until she, and I, came again, pulling free of her and spraying cum over her arse.

Over the next few hours there was a lot more sex, less rough than that first session but somewhat messier. Paint-on icing was involved for a little while, and provided a good deal of entertainment, before finally we dragged our bruised, aching bodies into the shower to carefully wash one another down and letting me leave for home.

Being Poor

2007-12-15T12:10:00.000Z

A certain Rabbit Gone Wrong has inspired this post, or rather her reporting of comments by her soon-to-be ex-husband. I have met people similar to this man, at least with the personality aspect she has described today, where they are poor simply because they do not have the latest sports car, a couple of extra mansions, private jets, stocks and shares meaning they never have to work again and so on. People using this as a definition of poverty is one of the things that irritates me. Now I know that I have not experienced the type of poverty that strikes in less priviliged countries than my own, but even I have more idea about what being poor really means than this guy.

I only have somewhere to live and eat now through the grace and generosity of my parents. I work part time, because I lack the qualifications to get a better job full time and have too much experience to get a worse job full time. The only way I got this job was by calling in some very old favours, and while I used to have a lot of those owed to me I am rapidly running out. This is not what I would consider poverty by any stretch, I am earning money, in a pinch I could afford to rent a room in a boarding house and eat one meal of rice a day, possibly with a little meat once and twice a week. I would manage to survive.

I only suffered what I would consider true poverty for two weeks. I had lost my house, this was back when I had one, and I had lost my job. What I had left was a car, which I had no petrol for and which got impounded due to my inability to pay for insurance, tax, petrol or parking permit. Other than that I had a good quality coat, seventy-two pence, and a set of good sturdy clothes. That seventy-two pence and a lot of fast-talking purchased me a couple of McDonald's burgers on the first day I was homeless, and then I had nothing.

For two weeks, because I was too proud to call some friends and admit I had failed miserably to support myself as I was meant to, I practically starved. I would beg and grovel for people to give me some money so that I could get food, dying of shame the whole time. I discovered after the first week why it seems that so many homeless people drink. It just gives you the ability to debase yourself to such a level that you can bring yourself to beg, at least that was how I found it. Most of my money from then went on drink, cheap supermarket brandy was a favourite since it was cheap, and warming. Never let anyone tell you sleeping on a bench is comfortable. It is not.

And then at the end of those two weeks I was rescued. One of those friends I had refused to call found me, talked me into going back with them, got me cleaned up, a change of clothes, and forced upon me enough money to get my car back and on the road, and enough petrol to get home. He also forced me to call my parents and explain what had happened, which was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.

So, next time you hear a couple of people in designer clothes, or driving a car, or just walking through town shopping complaining that they are poor just laugh at them. They honestly have no idea.

Scents and Tastes

2007-12-14T15:01:00.000Z

I think I have finally discovered what it is about certain people that pushes my buttons, while others just do not do anything. It is nothing to do with looks, although anyone with my interest has to be healthy and not unnattractive. It even has very little to do with personality. Some of it may be to do with voices, but that is open to debate. I do appreciate good looks, by my own variable standards, but more in the same way that I enjoy a nice view or in some cases a good, dramatic storm.

Nope, the secret way to turn me into a stuttering, drooling mass seems to be scent. I am not talking about perfume, though I do enjoy that, its the genuine scent of a person that hits me. That soft, sweet scent that some people have sitting under their perfume. Some people smell good, some people do not, it is as simple as that. Some scents just jump straight from my nose to my brain and switch off all of the higher reasoning abilities.

That might be an exaggeration, a better way to describe it might be to say that someone with the right scent switches my priorities around from being my usual rather heartless self to being quite solidly in lust. Not love, love is a very different concept for me and requires very different triggers but lust can definitely be triggered with relative ease.

Some perfume can fake it, but usually I actually need the genuine scent of a person. The only exception I have found to this so far is Ghost, and every now and then I treat myself to some of the male version. I will not wear it often, but if I am going out to relax and enjoy myself in the evening then I will, more for me than for anyone else who might enjoy it.

I am going to try and spend a lot more time paying attention to, and indulging my senses over the Christmas holidays and next year. I feel that I have been neglecting some of them.

Russian

2007-12-14T07:04:00.000Z

Now this is a strange little novelty. I do believe that I am being actively pursued by someone attempting to draw me in to a classic dating pattern. Of course I could be mistaken, and their various invites out may in fact be simple, friendly overtures, which does not explain why they are always arranged to be just the two of us and seem to involve a lot of attempted tickling. Normally by now I would have someone nicely categorized either as a potential conquest, or just a friend, but here I am not quite sure.

The problem is Russian seems to be just far, far too sweet to be my type, and especially to be interested in me. I have a great time whenever we meet up chatting and flirting but to be honest its not really any different from any friend I meet up with in private. Obviously this is apart from the fact that she does look very good in a figure-hugging backless shirt which it was far too cold to wear as sensible clothing. And I suppose it is also apart from the fact that she has soft, smooth, pale skin, long, flexible legs rising up to a perfect arse and narrow waist, with generous breasts for her size and little, pouty lips.

Okay, so given the opportunity the friends thing most likely would not work, but I have already explained about my situation and my various relationships. It seems to have made no difference. I suppose failing anything else I can ask her to start teaching me Russian. I suspect my repertoire of jokes about Communism and the Mafia will not be a good topic of discussion next time we meet though.

Interestingly she also seems to be completely non-existent on the internet. I cannot find a trace of her. I know, or suspect the reason for this, but it is rather strange all the same. Another thought has just struck me. Over time I have discovered that people of different races, and sometimes nationalities, have different tastes to them. In the spirit of scientific enquiry I believe I will have to find out what Russian tastes of.

I am also suffering jealousy over someone at the moment, rather a novel feeling. Mystery is seeing someone at the moment. Normally I have no trouble with someone in whom I have an interest spending time with someone else, but oddly enough this time it is upsetting me somewhat. I blame it on the bad weather at the moment.

Letter to the Past

2007-12-13T23:18:00.000Z

With the workload that my job has put upon me at the moment, as well as Christmas and family demands my letter-writing has been sadly neglected, so much of this weekend will hopefully be dedicated to rectifying this lapse in literary diligence. On a related topic, this meme which has been recently travelling around, appearing wherever I might see, of people writing a letter to their teenage selves has stimulated my interest until I have finally decided to submit and create my own contribution.

Dear Rabbit,

Hear me out, because I know that name will mean nothing to you at the moment. You will have no idea how you, or we, will acquire it or how much it will come to mean to you. You have no idea how cynically you will come to regard it, even as you treasure and prize it as the core of your still-developing identity. Enough about your little prized nickname however, that is something you will have to discover on your own. There are other things I do want to tell you though, even if it will mean you avoid them and never learn some of the things I have.

First of all those people at school, the ones you hate and despise, and are convinced will never amount to anything. The ones that you have never let a single tear fall for, and vowed that you never will? Well, you managed it. No crying. Apparently you are nearly physically incapable of it. You never let them see anything, and that is where you screwed up on this one. It becomes so ingrained into you to hide what you are feeling that you keep doing it. Lies, deception, masking, shielding, it all becomes part of your life.

In a couple of years you will fall in love for the first time, or something close to it, and then have your heart broken. You will tell no one of this, no one will have the slightest clue what has happened except for the friends who knew you both, and them you will simply avoid. It will also be your first encounter with death. Avoid all of this. Avoid the scars it will bring you, all of them, from a handful on your arms to a mark down the centre of your tongue which is with you years later. Avoid the lot. Do not, ever, talk to a dark-haired girl that you might meet on the train. Never. Just do not do it.

A year after that you will finally escape from the hell that school has gradually been becoming, and move on to college. A few weeks later you will leave your first college having been caught accidentally by a bullet, fortunately little more than a graze, and move to a new college a short time afterwards. Avoid that, being shot hurts. Do not go to a different college simply because people from your school are not going there, the people who tormented you at school will do so anyway until certain things change, and that comes in a few months. Just go to a college where you will not be shot, and may at least have a handful of people who will talk to you.

There is no need to go into what finally happens with your tormentors, though you do not need to be quite as harsh with the first one who comes after you. That was a close call with the police, and you were nearly jailed for excessive force. You do not want to be jailed, and having something like that on your record would mess up a lot of future plans. Be careful. Stop hitting when he is down. Leave it at that. It may save you some trouble with the others as well.

Fortunately after a few more encounters like that they will start to leave you alone, though admittedly you will have added a few more scars to your collection, and ruined a perfectly good coat into the bargain. You will also begin to find it harder to concentrate on your college work, and difficult to see a point in any of it. Stick with it, and actually go to classes. You will pass anyway, as you suspect, but not quite with the marks you were hoping for.

Do not, and I cannot emphasize this enough, go with your supposed friend to meet another friend of his from the airport. She is nothing but trouble. Do not meet her. Do not speak with her. Do not date her. Do not marry her. Leave her be. You want nothing to do with her at all. The only good thing that comes out of ever having met her is your wedding ring, and she steals that when you throw her out. Just buy yourself a red gold ring instead. Marriage is not a good idea.

Once you have struggled through college you will find yourself, suprisingly, accepted into university. This is where everything pays off, all that karma owed to you comes back two-fold, maybe more. Within the first two weeks you will have discovered that relationships do not need to be painful, or even particularly romantic. There are some very friendly girls who you will be living with, and so long as you keep up your end of the bargain that is proposed at the beginning of the year, so will they. Just do not try and have sex with the blonde one, she is very dedicated to her boyfriend, no matter how affectionate and flirty she may be. The two shorter ones are fair game and will be joining you in bed shortly anyway, and there will be plenty of general physical comfort and affection in the house.

At some point in this year someone will introduce you to a hobby called live-action roleplaying. When you go to your first event do not drink that nice guy's bottle of creme de menthe. If you do you will struggle for a long time to suppress a phobia of being touched by anyone male, and for good reason. If you do, then the morning afterwards you will have to go to hospital. The hospital will tell you you have been drugged. You will keep the whole thing quiet for years, too frightened and ashamed to tell anyone and feeling sick any time anyone male so much as shakes your hand.

Oh, a year and nine months later you will discover that you have been part of what could be a bad sitcom plot. Those two, you know the ones, are actually switching around on you. You will discover this when you encounter them both at once. Enjoy it, it will only last a few months but you can get free drinks with those stories for years. Learn to co-ordinate yourself carefully though, otherwise you will just get confused.

I would love to recommend that you do not leave university the first time, and maybe if you have not married then you will not have to, but it may also be that university is not for you. Look into psychology and save yourself a few years of desperately trying to find yourself, meaningless or meaningful relationships, struggling to make ends meet, always falling slightly below expectations and constantly feeling yourself as a dissappointment. Computing is definitely not your field, as you have always suspected, but without a degree you are most likely to end up stuck in it anyway.

Save money, enjoy life, avoid the biggest mistakes I have warned you about if you can but throw yourself into the little ones. You will come to realise that little screw-ups are almost as enjoyable as getting things right. Try not to let your school years destroy all of your confidence, it will save you time in building it up again later, something I have still not managed, your veneer of arrogance will come in useful though so practice that. Do not start smoking, and when driving stay well away from anyone in a business suit and a BMW.

Have fun,
Mr R Rabbit

So there you go. Interesting exercise. I am not quite sure whether I feel better, worse, no different or anything else. It is done now though.

Decoder Ring Theatre

2007-12-13T22:04:00.000Z

I adore pulp fiction. Not the film, though that is good as well, but old classical adventure, hard-boiled adventurers and tough Canadian superheroes, and some time ago I discovered it free on the internet. This is a plug, though it is one which I am choosing to do rather than having been asked or paid for it. I just want to thank the people who make these podcast plays for the sanity breaks and such they have given me at work, or while on long drives.

So here is to the people at Decoder Ring Theatre and congratulations to them all. Because of them I get to escape off into hard-boiled detective stories and fantastical superhero tales during my breaks at work.

Drifting off-topic slightly, though maybe not so much given the powers of the Red Panda, my quest to learn hypnotism and all of the other little tricks of the human mind has been renewed once again. I watched Derren Brown's "The Heist" tonight, finishing only a short while ago, and with my psychological studies resuming once again next year, including hopefully a specialist course in grief counselling, and another in hypnotherapy, I hope soon to be able to do more than simply understand how what he is doing works.

Winter's Tale

2007-12-12T07:29:00.000Z

It is now definitely winter, this fact can no longer be denied or delayed. Winter has struck, with all the sudden impact that choice of phrasing implies. A few days ago mornings were still bright and crisp, but the grass was green and water flowed freely. Now everything has turned white with frost, including cars and large sections of the smaller roads near me, and water has solidified. The grass crackles as you place weight upon it, and up until midday you can bend down and snap a blade of grass rather than simply plucking it from the ground.

I love winter. The crisp air in the mornings which lasts until last thing at night, biting through any layers you wear to taunt your skin, making your body ache with cold no matter what precautions you take. The ice that snaps and creaks underfoot as you walk, touching everything with a thin layer of white even without snow falling. The slick pathways, smoothed out and with any grip removed by sheets of frozen water so that you can choose whether to try and struggle down them on foot, your legs flying in all directions, or simply take a run-up and slide, hoping for the best and trying to keep your balance as you glide along.

It is easy to understand why people use to personalize Winter, giving it human traits. It feels like Winter is out to get each of us, personally. No one else is being chilled quite as much as we are, no one else has to spend quite as long uncovering their car from frost, that patch of ice was placed specifically for us. All of it just tells us how much Winter enjoys playing with us. Never make the mistake of assuming Winter is evil or cruel, it is simply playful, and has no idea how much damage it can do. We do best when we are being pressured, pushed and tested, and Winter certainly tests us, no matter how safe we may really be.

My iTunes

2007-12-11T19:26:00.000Z

Recently I unearthed my iPod, hiding under a stack of books in my study. I say my iPod but it was actually a second-hand gift from a friend when they upgraded to one of those new video iPod things, and given its age and the general reliability of Apple products it is a miracle it is still working with no battery replacement needed. I also discovered that much of the music I originally placed upon it, is still there. In a handful of cases this could be considered embarassing, in others simply funny.

My taste in music has changed little over the last few years, it is still as eclectic as ever, the only types of music I find it hard to listen to as a general genre rather than as specific songs are heavy classical opera, though I adore instrumental classical, and hip-hop or rap type music, with a few exceptions. I do not know what it is about opera, but there is something about the voices of opera singers that sends a shiver down my spine, and not in a good way. Light opera such as Gilbert and Sullivan is a different matter, and I enjoy such music greatly, but serious, heavy, wobbly-voiced opera just repels me completely.

In fact I am not a huge fan of singing in general, while I do enjoy songs I would usually much prefer to listen to a complex melody produced by instruments working in harmony or disharmony. Whether it is produced by an orchestra or a single person and a synthesizer is unimportant, it is the complexity that intrigues me.

Over-Indulgence

2007-12-10T23:18:00.000Z

I feel that I may be getting old, particularly in the matter of alcohol consumption. It seems that I am unable, as I gather years, to consume alcohol in the same way in which I used to. Indeed, it has become apparent that with any drinks outside of a certain range, I find it difficult to stomach the consumption of more than two glasses. Maybe stomach is the wrong turn of phrase to use, as queasiness is rarely one of my symptoms, much more common is dizziness, slowing down and uncertainty.

Due to this I will now be sticking quite firmly to those alcoholic drinks derived from fruit or honey, as they seem to have much less of an effect upon me than any fermented or distilled from hops or barley. While I do enjoy the sensation of being 'tipsy', and having that faint tingle across my skin, I must either stick with these drinks or force myself to imbibe drinks only slowly and over a longer period of time in order to avoid moving from the pleasantly tipsy, buzzing state into loud and drunk.

There was a time when I could drink non-stop, without suffering the next morning or at the time. That seems to have fled. I suppose it will save me money at least as I will no longer need to buy as many drinks.

Having said that, I may allow myself a quick glass of brandy in the hopes of warming my icy form from the weather outside.

Typecasting

2007-12-09T22:36:00.000Z

Writing the post yesterday about the various members of the cast got me thinking. People often comment that someone is, or is not, their type, so I decided to try and work out mine. Then I hit a slight problem. The only common trait I can think of is that the majority of the cast are smaller than me, height-wise at least. But I have dated or been with plenty of people who were taller than me. I then decided to go with something more general, and decided that all of the cast are female, but events in my past have demonstrated that my inclinations are, or at least used to be somewhat more flexible than that.

There are very definite reasons they are no longer that flexible, but that is a story for another time and a much more morbid and depressing post.

So maybe hair colour or length? Nope, the cast range from long blonde hair to short dark hair, as have my past relationships. No real tendency to either, though longer hair is more common in my past history I suspect that is because longer hair is simply more commong than shorter. As for colour, again anything could apply. Having spent several weeks with one girl who had rainbow hair, produced by the application of dye, and also time spent with someone who had simple, plain, naturally coloured hair I think I can rule out hair colour.

Eye colour? Definitely not. Type of looks? Cute, sexy, innocent, and many others have featured in my past. This was where I began to pick up a few hints as to what may be going on. While I found them all attractive, I found them attractive in different ways. Tomboyish looks tend to end up in somewhat rougher sex than delicate, feminine looks which draw almost a romantic mood from me. So now we have a hint. I began to think back again.

The only common factor that really could be discerned is that all of the girls in my past, and my present, are relatively healthy. This is not to say that they were all athletically slim, muscled girls, many were far from that, but none of them were at extremes. I have no stick-figures, or beach-balls in my dating history. Anyone I have dated is capable of getting around on their own feet quite happily, and none starve themselves. So, that was something.

I thought through it again. My entire dating history has varied, but in each case I have fitted myself to another person rather than shaping them to me. Sure I may be convincing, probably about a quarter of the first dates I have been on have ended up in sexual activity of some kind, and of those that did not the majority of second dates have, but each time it does not seem to be because I try to pressure the other person involved into sex, but because I try to come across as a person who is right for them.

So a little voyage of self-discovery is beginning, where I will be trying to find out what I actually want out of life, and who I actually am when I am not pretending to be anything for anyone.

Pantomime

2007-12-09T20:51:00.000Z

I have tried to explain pantomimes to people who have not experienced them in the past, with limited success at best. How exactly do you explain a form of performance which usually involves cross-dressing, a romance between two women, a villain who is booed and derided by the audience every time they come onto stage, jokes which have not changed since the whole formula was invented, and heavy amounts of innuendo in a performance supposedly aimed at children while still keeping the idea in someone's head that this is all entertaining and in good fun, and really is suitable for the whole family? You can imagine why I have had such trouble, particularly in my occasional attempts to explain this to Americans.

So then, allow me to try and explain the formulaic elements common to most pantomimes before I tell you how my evening so far has gone. The hero of whatever story is being told, usually a fairy tale, is played by a woman who generally wears very short shorts, and tights. It is completely accepted that this is the hero, no matter how feminine she may actually be. No one questions the matter, or even thinks about it too much. The hero is simply played by a woman. That has always been the case in pantomime, and probably always will be. It gets interesting when you get to the hero's love interest, also played by a woman, but this time actually representing one. Before the perverts among you get your hopes up the most sexual thing you will see in your average pantomime might be a kiss on the cheek or a hug. These are shows for children, no matter what you may think.

Then you have the Buttons-type character. This is generally a companion or friend of the heroine's, if there is one, but may sometimes be instead linked to the villain. If a companion of the heroine's then Buttons will be secretly in love with her. He will confess this early on in the show to the audience, usually by asking them to look after a present of some kind which will be left at the edge of the stage. If any of the audience see someone trying to take this, they are to shout 'Buttons', or whatever name may be appropriate. Pantomime is big on audience participation. If a companion of the villain the Buttons-type character will usually be moderately incompetent, and act to temper the villain's evil.

The villains are truly evil, and revel in it, taunting and tormenting the audience to provoke choruses of boos and hisses. Sometimes they are redeemed at the end, other times they are simply killed. They are almost always the favourite character of a large portion of the audience, which drives them to even greater heights in trying to boo them off the stage.

Many pantomimes, though not all, will also have a character called a Dame. Some will have more than one. These are men dressed as women in outlandish outfits, which become gradually more and more ridiculous as each scene goes on. Either Buttons-type or the Dame or sometimes both will at some point generally do a scene where they encourage the audience to join in a song, invite children up on stage to join in, throw sweets to the audience, sing to scare away a ghost or gorilla or something similar, sometimes a mix of the above.

At some point the audience will usually be required to shout 'It's behind you' to alert the hero, or one of the good guys, to someone hiding, a nearby threat, something they are looking for or something else. They will also usually engage in a shouting match of 'oh no it isn't' or 'oh yes it is' with one of the characters, and this has become a common joke among most of England's population.

I hope I have now given you some idea of what a pantomime is, which is necessary to explain that this evening I have been to see the local pantomime with my family. The poster is above, and the person in the centre who looks like Captain Hook, and is Captain Hook, may be better known to some of you as a certain famous character from an old situational comedy, namely the Fonz.

Just thought I should share. He made an excellent Hook.

Cast Updates

2007-12-08T23:17:00.000Z

I have decided that it might be worth updating people on the status of various cast members tonight. So, running through in alphabetical order and with the addition of a new potential member, here we go.

Affair - Is still around, though I get less chance to talk to her these days since her boyfriend has recently become unemployed and is spending more time at home. However she is still trying to arrange a visit to me, or vice-versa, where we will be undisturbed by her boyfriend and both of us will have a chance to once again indulge in the rampant and rather messy sex which we had before certain circumstances persuaded us that staying together would be to the detriment of both our lives, and that we were better off as simply friends with the potential for benefits.
BedBuddy - Has now found herself a boyfriend and, while we are still friends, is not currently a member of the cast. She did however send me some interesting pictures of herself and her new boyfriend. She will be being removed from my little cast list shortly.
Essex - Is very much still around in a friendly, no-strings attached to either party manner. I am hoping to find an opportune time to visit her again soon.
Miss Complicated - Is purely a friend now, things just got far too stressful for either of us to maintain even pretense at something more. Holding back and simply being friendly while discussing the overthrow of the government seems much easier for both of us.
Mystery - Is still very much around, and has even commented on here recently. She will be remaining anonymous for the time being though. Wish that she lived a lot closer.
Slave - Post-visit a decision has been reached whereby we will be remaining friendly, but accept that we are not suited for that sort of relationship. Frankly she is far too much hard work as are many of her friends. I am not willing to start providing that much support.
Stalker - Has calmed down and backed away recently, but still regularly tries to contact me.
Student - Is still around as a friend, and as an occasional bedwarmer. There is no real passion between us, at least not of the romantic time, but there are times when a bedwarmer or a simple, uncomplicated, unemotional fuck makes things much clearer.
Sweetie - Again, very much still around and hopefully I will be seeing her before Christmas. Things are getting a little complicated here however, as she is starting to let me know that she is jealous. Not quite sure what to do since she also does not want to break things off.
Tart - Completely gone, simply vanished off the face of the earth as far as I can tell. Mutual friends and acquaintances have no idea what has happened to her so it seems she may have simply gone.

Now as to the new one, tonight I was meant to be meeting with some friends who I have not seen for a while. Those friends managed to lose mobile phones or just fail to answer them, but while waiting in the pub I was approached by a young lass with a pretty face and a Russian accent. The rest of her body was also not unnattractive, and we began a conversation about fantasy writing and the supernatural before drifting into other topics. After a tour of several bars and a coffee shop she was returned home, with any innocence that she may have had intact except for some moderate tickling, playing around and petting. Phone numbers exchanged, and the conversation has continued through the wonders of text messaging. So, a new member of the cast, I would like you all to meet Russian.

Amateur Melodramatics

2007-12-07T23:29:00.000Z

So last night was fun, to put it mildly. Shortly after finishing work and putting up the previous post I get an urgent phone call from a friend. She was absolutely panicked, since she had just had an argument with her ex-boyfriend and he had stormed off, swearing vengeance and that he would return. After barricading the door to her flat she had called me, expecting me to come and help. She is an old friend, if not the brightest bulb, in fact she barely registers as a candle, and I knew the boyfriend concerned. He was not an old friend, anything but, and I must admit that the opportunity to do anything that would foil revenge plans he might have was like sweet nectar in my mind.

Due to all of this I ended up not going home as I originally planned, but instead driving over a hundred miles northwards through traffic from hell, eventually arriving four hours after I left and leaving my car securely parked, after collecting a handy toy which my paranoia insists I keep close to hand in my vehicle. There are reasons for this paranoia, but let us just say that I have been the victim of road rage and leave it at that. Following this me and my little illegal toy made our way to her flat building, and inside.

I should clarify, the little illegal toy I am referring to is nothing serious. I do not keep a gun in the car, I do not even own one, though I do have a stab-proof vest which occasionally accompanies me to areas where I am not popular. The toy is essentially an extendable baton, titanium sheathing over a soft iron core extending from six inches in length to eighteen and weighing in at a comfortable four kilograms. It was bought legally, before the law changed, and personally I believe it is much more tasteful than if I were to start carrying a knife.

After some rapid deconstruction work on the barricade and reconstruction I settled in to help talk a now moronically drunk young girl out of the idea of doing something truly stupid. Her plan was to call on certain old friends of mine from the same area and encourage everyone to go looking for her rather despicable ex-boyfriend. My resolve wavered somewhat when she showed me the list of messages he had been sending to her mobile, the last one sent a few minutes previously. All were unpleasantly abusive, unpleasant in a way which turned my stomach, and became gradually more so as the barrage of communication had continued.

It was another several hours before anything actually happened. My guess is that the ex-boyfriend had been gathering his courage, with the help of certain legal substances and possibly illegal, and building up his rage before deciding to return. Return he did, and spent a good half an hour hammering on the door and cursing in drunken incoherence. Others in the block of flats later claimed to have called the police, but I have my doubts. Then again the area we were in is not known for its rapidly responsive police, mainly due to work volume, so I find it hard to fault them.

Eventually I tired of holding a sobbing girl and lost my temper. The ex-boyfriend seemed somewhat suprised when the sound of a barricade being removed from behind the door appeared, but must have only been startled for a moment as his hammering efforts redoubled. Sadly for him the door opens outwards, and I am of a fairly respectable weight. Not to mention that the door was of fairly heavy construction, good, solid wood. This he discovered when I opened it a crack prior to throwing my full weight against it. The door collided with his much smaller frame, and knocked him from his feet.

There is one particular reason that extendable batons are one of my favourite weapons. Despite the fact that they are relatively non-lethal, at least in comparison to a bladed weapon and when used with care, and not often used there is something intimidating about the 'zzt' sound of twelve inches of metal suddenly extending and clicking into place with a flick of the wrist. Threats were exchanged, various important points were made, and the ex-boyfriend left.

Afterwards we somehow ended up sitting outside in the rain for a while, with me attempting to persuade her that none of what had happened was her fault. I love the rain.

In the morning the police were called again, the council were informed that a certain girl would be needing to move shortly, and my family lawyer was called and put in touch with the lass in order to try and arrange civil proceedings, mainly a restraining order. I then, at last, finally returned to my homestead in order to bathe and relax.

Now, sleep.

The Art of the Insult

2007-12-06T17:37:00.000Z

I have grown bored on the insults that people resort to in these days of simplicity and convenience. Such thrown insults as wanker, bastard, bitch and so on are simply too light in their substance. They are a fast food format, they are the McDonalds and the Burger King of the slight against another person. They may be filling temporarily, but that full feeling is only temporary, and so lacking in taste and texture that you will soon wish you had another. These insults are truly pitiful, there is no emotion to them, and no impact, they even appear as friendly nicknames on occasion.

What happened to the days when killing insults were used? When people would duel to the death, or be provoked into violence or fleeing by a well-crafted phrase? Why do we no longer take the time to construct an insult that will reduce a person to tears or pale-faced shaking in their boots? Are our enemies no longer worth this effort, or has the diet of flavour-free entertainment robbed us of our imagination and reduced us to simply parrotting those insults and curses we hear through our favourite media?

So I say no more! No more will I resort to this simple, ready-packaged insults devoid of depth and impact. From this moment on any insult I utter will be carefully crafted, unique to whomever I am insulting and with the full force of my passion and belief in the need for them to be cursed or insulted contained within it. No more shall I say simply 'you wanker', when instead I may say 'you are an ignorant cur who should have been cast unto the rocks at your birth and dashed apart by the waves', no more will I say simply 'fuck you' when I can instead throw 'I hope for the sake of the future of humanity that any children you have are still-born and any wife you may take poisons you in your sleep'.

I am now going to research the historical greats of the insult, Shakespeare, Churchill, Wilde and many others besides. I will study their skills and arts, and return armed in verbal warfare.

Missing Words

2007-12-05T23:48:00.000Z

English is extremely short on words and phrases to describe certain concepts, so I have taken it upon myself to rectify this error with regards to certain topics. For tonight I have chosen the rather obvious topic of relationships. Now it is known my many that the Greeks had three words for love, using Eros, Philia and Agape, each used for different aspects of love but sadly these days simply translated, all three, as just 'love'.

Eros is love as it is generally used today, a romantic, passionate, sexual love. It includes a desire for the body of another person as well as a lust for their companionship. Philia is an almost dispassionate, friendly love, a philosophical and mental love of someone rather than any lust for them. Agape refers to a love for the family, in simple terms, including the spouse. Once Eros has been worn away by the passing years Agape is the name for what remains if anything does.

Even these I believe, were we to absorb them into our language, would be insufficient. Eros for example refers to passionate love, with a touch of lust, but what about those feelings which are almost pure lust, with a touch of philia as an almost seperate feeling about someone? Someone whom you care about, and feel lust for, but not necessarily passion? None of these can be described even by those philosophical Greeks.

So, the different types of relationships, simplified and reduced obviously, that I believe exist:

eros - an inflamed, passionate relationship, the first part of many relationships where those involved cannot keep their hands off one another
philia - long-developed friendship, any feelings of lust dealt with long ago so that only an enjoyment on one another's companionship remains
agape - love for the family, simple, instinctual feelings of protectiveness and care for family
storge - again stolen from the Greek and changed, feelings of gentle affection. a child's relationship with their 'girlfriend' for example, that slight crush that makes you smile when you think of them for no real reason
frato - sticking with the Greek theme, feelings more developed than just friendship but still non-sexual, a friend you would count as part of your family
destro - my own invented word (I think), an obsession with someone to the point where a relationship would be destructive to both, being unable to resist a particular person, and doing anything they ask
calc - a cold, unforgiving relationship where someone is simply out for what they can get from it and have no real feelings for the other person

I will most likely be adding to this list over time, as I think of more, and others are welcome to add their own.

Miniature Geekiness

2007-12-04T21:48:00.000Z

Another short entry I am afraid, I have spent far too long tonight cutting, glueing and laminating in order to construct games. This has meant that my imagination for posting has been somewhat curtailed, so I am reduced to writing about some of my more publically-condemned interests. Admittedly I do not quite understand why my interests in games and comics should be less well-regarded than the fact that I regularly sleep with, and pursue, a variety of women but it is thus.

So yes, I am in fact a self-admitted semi-geek. I read comics, I read a lot of fantasy and science fiction, I play roleplaying games both tabletop and live-action and a large number of other games. Since I suspect most of my readers would have little interest in the details of the roleplaying games I have decided instead to focus on the other matters.

One of the main comics I check regularly is something called Least I Could Do, possibly because other than his much more prolific success with women, his personal ownership of his place of living, his very successful work-life and the fact that he seems rarely to wish for the death of his 'friends' I identify a lot with the main character. This is probably the comic that would most interest readers here, so feel free to take a look. It is free, will not cost you a penny unless you pay per minute for your connection.

Two games I have recently acquired, after being exposed to them in Ireland, require a rather sick and twisted sense of humour. One is Final Straw, though I hesitate to mention the topic of the game for fear of being savaged by any person with an ounce of decency, or children. I will admit that the game is absolutely sick, though it does play well. The second is equally as twisted, though less likely actually cause me to be lynched, and is called Hentacle. I will say now that unless you can take extremely dark humour then you should not look at either of these games. It would also be best to avoid them at work, or with children nearby. Possibly with adults nearby as well. But they are both enjoyable games and I spent several hours whiling away the time last week with various people and each of these.

In other news I have decided to break my anonymity, potentially. This coming weekend I am being fitted for a suit with top hat and tails in order to be an usher at my sister's wedding. Despite my most ardent requests I am not being allowed to carry a sword-cane for the wedding. However if I can get a good picture of myself in this suit at the fitting, I will be revealing what I look like for the enjoyment or amusement of my loyal readers.

Sleep now. Work tomorrow. Boss will be in. Great.

As Close As Possible to Home

2007-12-03T21:57:00.000Z

This little entry is unlikely to be a particularly happy one, though I am in fairly good humour at the moment. I have returned home from my trip to Ireland, or as close to home as I can get at the moment. The last time I actually had a place I could really call home it was a rather shabby, run-down one-bedroom house with a gas fire as the only heating for most of it, a gas stove as the only cooking implement, several items from my various collections hanging from the wall, and second-hand furniture scavenged from various charity shops.

In case you have not worked it out yet, I am talking about when I used to actually have my own place, even if it was rented. You have no idea how much I miss that, just being completely independent.

It has got to the point several times that I have thought about simply vanishing, becoming one of those people who simply vanish in a puff of statistics and low-priority missing person cases and see what I could do.

Not going to happen ofcourse, at least not any time soon. I have too much to do first.

Restless Night

2007-12-02T14:14:00.000Z

Last night was not a good night. Slave's housemates had some friends round, and evidently decided to experiment with certain chemical substances I would prefer to avoid, except potentially in a clinical setting. I have an absolute fascination with hallucinations, and particularly a condition referred to as synaesthesia, but if I am going to experiment with substances that can cause either I am going to be extremely careful about it.

This led to one of them suffering what is known in common parlance as 'a bad trip' and spending the night on the stairs outside the room I am sleeping in alternately ranting, raving, and trying to break down the door. Quite evidently he was utterly off his head, and completely ignoring the people trying to talk him down.

Personally I just attempted to sleep. There was little I could have done had he actually managed to break down the door except hope that being completely sober and level-headed I would be capable of fending off someone a foot taller and of much heavier build than myself. I like to think that I would have managed, but I have to say that this was the first time in my entire life I have felt that helpless in such a situation.

Normally I can talk someone down from a rage easily, but this person seemed barely able to understand English. Failing that were I at home I would have access to various handy, but non-lethal weapons which are stashed around my room and the house. Okay, so I am a little paranoid, but I have my reasons. Even failing that I would have been able to run away, or call for help.

But in this case there was absolutely nothing that I felt I could actually do, except maybe unlock the door and hope that I was faster than him, and I was not ready to take that chance willingly.

As soon as I get back home I am joining the gym and finding a martial arts class. I want my complete self-confidence back.

This Meebo Thing

2007-12-01T13:41:00.001Z

You may have noticed at the side of the blog, on the right there, is a little box saying 'meebo me' or some such. This is a wonderful little device which allows all of you lovely people to send me messages, and me to send them back when I am online. You get the idea I am sure. Messages sent are anonymous unless you choose to identify yourselves, so feel free to rant away.

Anyway I am sure the certain ones of you are interested in the graphic details of what has been going on in the little den of sin I find myself spending my time in. Slave has spent the majority of my time here on a leash, servicing me in some form whether that is by entertaining herself, massaging me, or more intimate tasks. After time spent on the leash she is released in order to cuddle and have actual affection.

This is something which often puzzles people about dominant-submissive relationships. It is important to remember that you are not trying to break your submissive's spirit or turn them into a true slave. In fact they are the ones who have actual control, since they are the only ones who can utter a safeword and stop whatever is going on. In a good relationship a safeword should never be needed, since the dominant should be aware enough of what the submissive is willing to do and what they can take that they should push their limits, but never go beyond them.

I have made it quite clear to Slave however that I will not be signing a contract with her, this is fun and games for both of us. Even if it were not she lives too far away for me to be willing to bind myself to her in contract, I do not know enough about her, and frankly the idea of actually permanently 'owning' another person terrifies me.

Lets Get This Meme Done

2007-12-01T01:06:00.000Z

Okay, so I am going to try and complete this meme now. Incidentally as a random trivia fact meme actually refers to a way of looking at ideas or concepts in an organic fashion. Ideas, as everyone must know, spread, replicate and evolve as they are passed from person to person, in a similar way to genetic evolution. Somehow this psychological concept got hijacked and turned into a term meaning internet questionnaires.

So apparently this meme, kindly thrust upon me by Angel, means that I need to list seven things about myself and then choose seven other people to complete it. So here we go.

I lie like an expert, without even pausing to think about it, when I need to. I can even incorporate nice natural body language into my lies and keep track of them as they grow more complex. I can convince people of almost anything that I wish to without even putting effort into the matter.
I secretly want the white picket fence, two and a half children, and simple family life someday. Just not today. Nor tomorrow. Nor till I meet the person who I can actually see that future with.
My easiest solution to any problem is violence, it takes a lot of effort to keep this in check to the degree that I do, such that I never resort to it.
I detest using the phone, or any sort of electronic recording method for my voice. In fact I am massively insecure about the sound of my voice and even went for speech therapy when I was younger to try and rid myself of a lisp, which I am still self-conscious about even if people assure me it is no longer there.
During the course of my life four people have actively tried to kill me.
I was accumulating the qualifications and training needed to get a stuntman's license, but never had enough money to complete the stunt driving course that I was doing and so never got the license.
I feel most comfortable with a pair of swords on me, and always feel slightly naked in everyday life when I cannot wear them, which is most of the time.

So there you go. As to picking other people to do this meme, I will have to think upon it.

Inconceivable

2007-11-30T23:24:00.000Z

So maybe this is not the best film in the entire history of cinematography, there may have been better films, but for an all-age film for any member of the family, to watch with a girlfriend, boyfriend, hermaphrofriend, or just friends, this is about as perfect as you can possibly get. As mentioned in the film itself there is sword fighting, giants, duels, true love, adventure, pirates, torture, death, marriage and so on. The dialogue is witty, the action is fantastically executed, the plot is predictably classical as well as being brilliantly comic.

Even with six fingers on my right hand I could not count the number of times I have watched this film with girls who I have been dating, with family members both young and old, from my baby cousins to my grandparents, and I have yet to find anyone who does not at least enjoy it. Whether ill, depressed, happy, lazy or in any other mood this film never fails to make me feel better. At one point I even got to the stage where I could recite the entire film from beginning to end without prompting, which made for some interesting mathematics lessons in college as me and various friends would drop in and out of the dialogue of the film at random moments when we grew bored of advanced calculus and quadratic equations.

Everyone has a handful of films that they enjoy watching again and again, this is the major one for me, but I will also quite happily watch a few others. Princess Bride is my any-mood film, but for violent depression I prefer Dark City, again one I can quite happily watch over and over. For sheer enjoyment of action and gunfights I will take Equilibrium, and for simple philosophising on the merits of humanity's continued existence I can watch Gattaca any time.

So which films do it for you?

Awards Left and Right

2007-11-29T13:27:00.000Z

Well people have now tagged me, and I have two more awards. All of these are things I plan to deal with when I get back to my desktop computer with a working keyboard, and get a chance to throw this laptop out a window. The keyboard on it is going, so that some keys require a hammer to be pressed while others need to be pried back up after being pressed, in order to stop a long string of s's or a's. The touchpad is triggered by hands resting anywhere on the casing, but not by fingers drawn across the pad itself. The screen has enough dead pixels to play dot-to-dot. All in all you probably get the idea. The sacrifices I make for you people.

So yes, the tagging and the awards will be boasted about once I return home to a computer that allows me to open more than a single browser window at a time, and where both internet explorer and firefox will allow me to log in to my e-mail, rather than taking it in turns to sulk and refusing to let a connection to google occur. Here are the pictures though, since I do believe they are nice pictures, and links to the ones who awarded them to me.

Now, onto other news. Not so good news. I have a cold, a bad one. Every joint aches. Because of this my activities with Slave have been limited to gentler things than full sex, blowjobs, handjobs, fingering and so on. Fortunately she does have toys which can be applied while she walks around the house. Today she is spending in a nurse's uniform, and looking after me carefully on pain of a caning. She spilt some soup this morning, and now winces a little and lets out a moan whenever she has to sit down.

As I have said before, I have no interest in being purely sadistic every day, but it is nice to be able to cut loose every now and then.

So, thanks to both Simply and Angel for the awards, and thanks Angel for the meme. I will pass on the awards and fill in the meme when I have returned home.

Waking Strangely

2007-11-28T12:55:00.000Z

I can sleep peacefully anywhere, one I can actually fall asleep, and here I have managed to have a peaceful, refreshing night, from which I have awoken both with my cold gone, and slave's mouth around my cock. After she finished her work she has informed me that there are certain things that need to be done today, such as a visit to the citizen's advice bureau, and that she wants to know if I would like breakfast.

After letting her know that I am not hungry, but would appreciate some coke, she leaves and I change rooms in order to take a quick shower. As she re-emerges with my coke, I tell her to put it down before throwing her onto the bed, pinning her down, shoving her skirt upwards and fucking her. Now I feel awake. Off to get dressed now, so hope you kiddies are having fun.

Flying to the Land of the Fey

2007-11-27T12:39:00.000Z

I left at six o'clock in the morning, far far too early for my own comfort. Grabbing last minute items to be packed as I hurried out the door, shuffling cars around and arranging lifts before leaving for the airport. My usual paranoia kicked in and I began to panic about being late. I hate being late for flights. Fortunately, while it was cut close to the measure of thirty seconds, I was not actually late enough to miss my coach, or the subsequent flight.

Ireland has always been considered a slightly unreal, spiritual place, and its inhabitants similarly befuzzled by reality. I always find myself experiencing a similar feeling when I fly, or travel, a long distance. Admittedly Ireland is not a long distance, but due to the combination of car, coach and plane I used to find myself here, it was a long trip and I left the plane in a slight fuzz of unreality and confusion.

Unfortunately this did not last long, as it was quickly dismissed by the fact that the city of Belfast looked like an average area of London, and a Costa Coffee shop occupied pride of place in the middle of the airport. Dissappointed, I moved outside for a cigarette, hoping to catch a leprechaun or one of the sidhe sneaking a smoke of their own, but none were there. Instead Slave met me with a hug and a submissive bow of her head. For my own part, I was too tired from the journey to do much more than lie on a sofa, so the first night was taken up with watching of various films while she obediently massaged my back, followed by sleep.

Pack Up Your Troubles

2007-11-26T12:46:00.000Z

I love to travel, to go to new places, meet new people, see new things. I even enjoy the travelling, flights, driving, sailing, it does not matter which. The bit I do not enjoy is the packing and unpacking. Supposedly I should be packing now, I have about five hours before I will be too busy to do anything, but I just cannot summon up the energy. Between aches and exhaustion I am far too lazy to do anything useful.

Which is a pity, because I will need clothes for Ireland. At least for travelling to Slave's house.

Fortunately I should have internet access while I am there, so I will be trying to keep all of you updated on any debauchery or scandalous activities during the week.

There were none this weekend, except for the occasional poking fight with a rather attractive young lass. Sweet though she was, I believe she has a boyfriend, so things will be going no further there. Fun all the same though.

Satisfying Pain

2007-11-25T22:00:00.000Z

Not all pain has to be either unpleasant or sexual, there is another form of pain that can be experienced. This is the satisfying pain which tells you that yes, you have been working incredibly hard and pushing yourself to the limit. I am feeling this pain right now, in a very big way. A very, very big way. Movementis somewhat painful, and slow. In fact it starts slowly then accelerates to a normal walking pace before I come to a stop once again.

There is nothing sexual about this form of pain whatsoever. It is just that lovely feeling of a job very, very well done. I have spent the entire weekend hammering players with foam weaponry, charging around in leather armour, chainmail armour, plate armour, heavy robes, furs, and various other forms of costume. It has been a good weekend.

Now I need to sleep.

Then tomorrow I need to clean up here and pack clothes and such for Ireland on Tuesday.

Friend Syndrome

2007-11-23T13:25:00.000Z

Chatting with someone today a discussion of friend syndrome developed. If it so happens that there are some among my readers who do not know of, or have not encountered, said syndrome then I will be kind enough to explain it. Friend's syndrome is a particular collection of neuroses, insecurities and relationship difficulties that cause the person who possesses them to be seen as a friend by women, or men, rather than as a potential partner. There can be various different causes to the syndrome, but eventually they usually reduce to much the same origin.

In essence friend's syndrome usually arises when someone with a long-term friend decides that they would like that friendship to go further, while the other person involved would prefer it stays as a simple friendship for whatever reason they may have. This instills in the first party the feeling that they are always seen as just the friend, and they will begin complaining about this to anyone who might be within hearing range, reinforcing the syndrome as well as driving away potential partners, and potential friends. This self-reinforcement continues, with even potential partners being turned into friends by the fact that a person who may have been fairly normal has allowed themselves be turned, by one, or two, or more rejections into a whining, self-righteous, pathetic parody of humanity.

The best cure for such people is to give them a hard, open-handed blow across the cheeks, forcibly turn them around to apply a deal of force via your foot to their posterior, tell them to get over themselves and grow up, and then walk away until they do so. If they do not do so, the loss of their friendship is no real loss as they will continue to sink further and further into their self-righteous self-pity.

All Far Too Easy

2007-11-22T23:24:00.000Z

Something I have never really understood is how people fall in love. I do not know if I have ever actually felt real love, to the point where my heart would be broken if someone was no longer in my life. Of course, I have cried over people leaving me, or some of the things people have done, but that is rare. Crying tears is even rarer, I could count on a single hand the number of times I have cried tears, according to my parents the first time was when I was twelve years old.

This is drifting a little off-topic. The main point is that I do not understand how people fall in love, though I would very much like to find out. However what seems to happen is that people fall in love with me incredibly easily. This is not a boastful thing, and I do not know that when they declare love they are speaking genuinely, but it just seems that many people either can fall in love very easily, or I am easy to fall in love with. It is quite inconvenient to be honest.

I detest hurting people, at least emotionally, if I care about them. Physical pain is a more debatable thing depending on levels of masochism, again though, not really relevant. Basically I want to know how to stop people supposedly falling for me, it makes my life far too complicated. I would find it much easier if people could just like me, or fall in lust, everything would be so much simpler.

Anyway, I am off to a world where these things only become important between two in the morning, and ten in the morning, which is meant to be when people sleep, drink, fool around, and socialise with one another.

Why Come to Me for Help?

2007-11-22T20:22:00.000Z

Many of my friends locally are younger than I am, and seem to have adopted me as a teacher figure. I do not understand quite why. Today this was demonstrated to me quite well when someone asked me to help teach their friend how to fight, since they had suffered several attacks recently. I have accepted, but I am curious about how exactly they have come to the conclusion that I can fight well.

Now admittedly I can do and have demonstrated it, but I am not highly muscly, I do not have a fighter's build, and I have scars. Let us review for a moment on that. I have scars. Now yes, that means I have survived being hurt, but looking at the other side of it, I have been hit several times with sharp implements that leave nasty scars on my arms, and smaller ones on my chest, back, legs and face. This is not the sign of someone who will teach you how to stop being hurt.

Either way, I have now taken on a student, so I am going to have to think about how to teach someone to cause lots of pain and anguish when you are a lot smaller, weaker and less vicious than the person you are trying to hurt.

There is a psychological mechanism called the doomsday switch, at least that is its name in popular psychology. The doomsday switch is that little trigger in the brain which turns you from being interested in your own survival into being interested simply in causing as much damage as you can. This is not a survival mechanism for individuals, it is a pack mechanism, whereby one herd member will sacrifice itself for the good of the pack. This is the same sort of switch which allows grandmothers to lift cars off their grandchildren, meanwhile ripping every single muscle and joint in their body and bringing themselves to the edge of death.

I do not particularly want to teach someone how to use self-hypnosis to put themselves into this state. I think I will stick with the more basic things, like poking people in the eyes.

How to Kill a Libido

2007-11-21T23:38:00.000Z

I am quite certain that all of you vultures, and I use the term with the utmost affection and respect, want all of the gory details about my visit with Essex. Unfortunately there is not that much to tell, due to heavy traffic and leaving work late I arrived there late. In fact I arrived about fifteen minutes before her ex-husband and the children were due to return home. Despite our haste in removing clothes and causing severe damage to her bed, which now needs replacement, I have now made great in-roads into discovering a whole new method of libido suppression.

Namely this is the sound of a doorbell ringing as an ex-husband and toddlers arrive back home, and ex-husband has fortunately forgotten his key. This is particularly fortunate as myself and Essex are mid-coitus at this point. One hurried escape to the bathroom to pull my clothes back on, and Essex's dressing on the stairs, and everything is fine. I sit for a while for an unplanned talk with her ex-husband about religion and to help her children construct some sort of lego statue, before we flee in order to do some shopping. I needed some new letter paper and envelopes.

While shopping I also discover the rather fine-looking cigarettes that you see above. They may be incredibly overpriced, in fact they most definitely are, but they are also very pretty. My new solution to quitting smoking is to instead switch to this brand, bankrupt myself and therefore be unable to afford to smoke. Either that or pick up some of the herbal cigarettes that I tried there, which while leaving me with the craving, at least dealt with the habit.

Travelling home however I encountered one of my favourite natural events, and one which is all too rare in this country I call my home. A true storm, with lightning, rain which poured rather than simply fell, and biting winds. Since I have a cough at the moment stopping at the edge of the motorway for ten minutes to allow the elements to batter my body, since I stepped out of the car to enjoy it, may not have been the best of ideas. But it was definitely worth it.

More Red Letter

2007-11-21T13:13:00.001Z

Just a quick post as I have to get a shower and changed quickly before driving off down to see Essex. Work, as usual, was incredibly boring. The only entertainment is the fact that I have decided, since I do not care about the job, that I no longer have to be particularly polite or dedicated. I am instead experimenting with how far I can push the limits of courtesy and sarcasm as a mix. So far no one has made a complaint, or taken offense. If anything I am a little dissappointed. I was hoping to get a little more reaction. I am also planning to try to earn myself a little more income by submitting some freelance articles wherever I can.

And on the topic of writing, the Red Letter Club is going nicely. Lots of letters sent, and some received. Anyone else who wants to join simply give me a yell, and anyone who wants to say that they are a member, whether it is just that you want to steal the idea yourself or not, is welcome to use the pretty little image from up above. Anyone who does want to start doing a similar thing themselves, inspired by my little project, let me know, I am curious whether I can actually start something.

Anyway, shower time now, have fun kiddies.

Into Unconsciousness

2007-11-20T17:41:00.000Z

Originally I was going to make this entry a rant about something which occured at work today, but I have changed my mind, probably a good decision. Instead I will take you back on a journey through time, to a younger, more active time. In fact a time when I was back with Tart and discovered that it is in fact possible to screw someone unconscious.

The process took five hours, some bondage, a bit of light pain, and lots of sex. She was tied up and at my mercy for almost the entire time, though a safeword was specified first. The actual sex only started after the first hour, which I spent mostly teasing and tormenting her with mouth and hands, and various toys. Whenever I felt myself close to orgasm, I would stop, and use her mouth instead for a time, carefully to let me calm down but still keep me hard. While doing this I would abuse her with various toys, whether the rabbit, a plug or anything else that came to hand.

I did however take pictures, which I recently discovered when someone reminded me of this through an inadvertant comment. These pictures will not be up on this blog, for fairly obvious reasons I would hope. Anyway, as you can imagine after five hours of constant stimulation, usually in at least two places, not to mention that my hands and mouth were wandering, occasionally stroking, squeezing, slapping, licking or biting her defenseless little body, and more orgasms on her part than we bothered counting, she suddenly went limp.

After a moment's panic I ascertained that she was still breathing, freed her, and waited a few minutes for her to come around which she eventually did.

On more current matters Mystery is still around, and sent me a post card recently. It must be said that she has a talent for selecting good pictures. Tomorrow afternoon I will probably be meeting Essex for a time, and Thursday Sweetie. Then friday is more LRP, and next Monday of course is my trip to Ireland.

Word of the day: Woking, meaning to walk into the kitchen then forget what you went in there for.

Recovery Day

2007-11-19T12:39:00.000Z

While I have to go and run a game this evening, most of today is going to be spent relaxing and recovering. Over a larp event I tend to have maybe three hours sleep a night. I also usually spend most of my time not eating properly, though that was not such a problem at this event, and running around madly in heavy armour battering people with weaponry. Obviously this can get tiring, so today I am going to relax.

At the moment I am still in bed, in a minute I will drag myself out of it and into the bath. A lovely, hot bath. Possibly with candles and incense. And a book. And ice cream. I may grab a shower beforehand, to get clean first. Afterwards, maybe a cigarette and a nice simple cocktail, a bite to eat, lie in front of the fire for a while and relax a bit more before I head off to be caused stress by my friends tonight.

Other plans for the week are going to work, unfortunately, visiting Essex on Wednesday, visiting Sweetie on Thursday to Friday, going off to larp again on Friday, and of course packing for Ireland to see Slave.

Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

2007-11-18T11:54:00.000Z

The second evening of the event progressed in a similar way to the first, except that Essex actually realised I was flirting. Again, we ended up only getting a few hours sleep, but I should make it clear now that despite the reputation of Essex girls, and the rumours that went around the players, it was nothing more than cuddling, sharing a bunk for the few hours we did sleep, and kissing.

The more entertaining parts were on the drive home. With heavy snow, a three hours journey became instead seven hours of slow, boring driving. Or it would have done, if driving had been all that happened. Nothing that major occured in the car, just a lot of stroking, touching, and other manually based activity.

However, while Essex and myself seem very well suited there are problems involved. The main one is probably the fact that she has children. Not a bad thing as such, but while I get on very well with children, it does put a different spin on things if I am going to be visiting her. Something that is going to require a lot of careful thought about.

To explain a little about the Essex nickname, a joke which is fairly common here, among others. "What does an Essex girl wear knickers for?" "Keeping her ankles warm." There are many, many others.

Oh, and the other complication of course is that she is a natural redhead, and I have been warned about them many times.

The final battle of the event was in the heavy snow, as heavily armoured creatures of the undead. So it was not quite an actual apocalypse, but we came fairly close. A lot of players are having to make new characters after zombie attack left about half of them bleeding on the floor. Obviously this was within the context of the game, there were no actual injuries.

Ogrish Kidnappings

2007-11-17T10:04:00.000Z

So it seems I may have to explain what live-action roleplay or LRP or LARP is for the benefit of some. If you know of re-enactment then it is a similar activity, except that instead of being set to a particular historical event, which must be enacted in a similar way to that which originally occured, it is several days of running around pretending to be in a fantasy world where you can actually make a huge difference. In this particular case I was part of the monster crew, meaning that instead of being a heroic champion for honour and justice, or evil and persecution, or any other long-term character of my own invention I was playing the orcs, goblins, ogres, ghost, ghasts, zombies, bandits, raiders, peasants, and anything else that the players might encounter.

In the end myself and another crew member were represented as ogres, a rather large, grey-skinned creature with only a little more than animalistic intelligence. With massive American football pads, lots of furs, some masks, and large foam claws we managed to be reasonable intimidating. Throw in a few extensions to boots to increase height a little, so that I stood at nearly seven foot instead of my usual five foot and nine inches, and dusk-light, and you have something to terrify any knight in armour.

Sadly we may have terrified them a little too much, and the players barricaded themselves in a small hut while we shook the walls and hammered on the windows to the accompaniment of occasional quiet screams of panic from inside.

Following all of this, which finished at two in the morning, we gathered in the meal hall in order to socialise, chat, and flirt. the target of my flirtation shall be known as Essex from now on, and there will be more about her in the next entry. The evening somehow extended until about seven o'clock in the morning, with lots of drinking, chatting, joking and flirting until we finally all crawled to sleep. Then woke up two and a half hours later in order to get breakfast and still have time to get into appropriate costume, and warmed up for combat.

Hijacking a Vaio

2007-11-16T09:57:00.000Z

Student seems to have amazing taste in laptops, it must be said. She is also eminently simple. Other than a mild, friendly affection there are no real feelings between us. We get along, we can have sex. Simple and easy. No commitment to worry about, no emotional complications, if either she or I find someone else then we are still friends, and if we do not then still, we are friends.

Anyway I am sure a lot of you wanted the gory details. I am afraid there is not any gore involved. In fact it could be said that Student, for all of her talk, is almost distressingly vanilla. I get the impression that she does not want to be, but she most definitely is. After we went out for a meal we went back to her dorm room, put on a film, and ended up having sex which was pleasant, almost in the same way that I used to enjoy masturbation until it got boring. We then lay there talking about the hobbies we share, the fact that there was no 'click' between us, then slept until morning.

In the morning there was a repeat performance, again very casual and mundane, before a trip into town where I picked up supplies for the rest of the weekend. Cigarettes and brandy. Lovely.

I think I may steal this laptop.

Escaping Reality

2007-11-15T06:35:00.000Z

I do not have much time to post this before having to leave for work so I will have to forego my usual linguistic athletics and post in common English.

This weekend I am going away to escape for a time from reality. After work today I will be driving to meet, and visit, Student overnight followed by another smaller drive tomorrow afternoon to go to a winter LRP event. Hopefully I will not freeze to death too easily, as the accomodation for the event is inside and I will be taking full furs to wrap up in during the day and the battles. Not to mention that I will be taking magical warming potion, commonly referred to as ginger wine or mead.

Of course, I will not be wearing any metal armour, for obvious reasons. Metal armour in this sort of weather cools quickly and chills the wearer, no matter how much they move around. Chainmail is the worst as it presses close to your skin.

My weapons will be travelling up in the car with me. These are not the metal kind, but foam and latex replicas designed to look realistic, but with no risk of accidentally hacking off someone's limb. I have no idea what the plot for this event is, or really even the system, but hopefully that will be explained when I get there.

Hopefully I will get another chance to post, maybe even nab Student's computer tomorrow if I can, or to put up some messages from gabcast to reassure you all that I am still alive and well. I can check e-mail of course, though will probably only be able to do so at night when we have stopped having to run around hitting each other.

Either way, I am escaping reality for a while. I will see all of you kiddliwinks when I get back.

Inventing Words: Mazed

2007-11-14T21:55:00.000Z

It is known to myself that the word 'mazed' is already a word in uncommon usage, however I would still count this as my own personal invention. In my own usage of the word 'mazed' it is an abbreviation of two individual words, monitor, referring to one of those new-fangled video display units, and dazed, referring obviously to the experience of being in a daze, or a confusion.

So then we have the experience of being 'mazed', or suffering from a displaced sense of reality due to having spent too much of your valuable time at your disliked occupation staring into the flickering haze of such a device. In my case said time was in the region of eight hours. I then spent some time afterwards travelling by foot around my place of work in order to try to readjust to reality.

In other news there is yet another individual joining my cast list, this one rather unique. She is the first to be a person who knows the full content of this electronic journal. As such, she has very careful anonymity, until such time as she may desire otherwise. Her name, or the alias by which she shall be known, will be Mystery until another suggests itself.

Pre-New Year Ambitions

2007-11-14T10:26:00.000Z

I have made a decision to improve my diction. Henceforth I will often be using more archaic language and construction of sentences in an attempt to further distance myself from the modern world. My mind is fully set upon seperating my own personal reality from that which truly exists, in the hopes of imposing my own view of the world upon its other inhabitants. Acknowledging the difficulty of such a project is only natural and I could be thought a fool for even conceiving of such, let alone embarking upon such a challenging path. Yet I will not relent. A new resolve has flooded me, and I am now dedicated to seeing all current and future ambitions through either to a successful conclusion, or a mortal one.

As such I believe I should mention the projects I am currently engaged with. Firstly there is the commencement of manually crafted correspondence with persons around the world, purely for the enjoyment of the written word and the reception of international missives. Such as arrive will be carefully saved and treasured. My ambition in this matter is to be corresponding with each of the continents, though I accept that writing to the southern-most continent of Antarctica may prevent a challenge, but not an insurmountable challenge. There is no time limit on this ambition, but to be fulfilled fully this must involve active correspondence with each continent in the same six month period.

The second of these projects is not such a noble cause. Instead it is my attempt to find gainful, full-time employment of some form within the next six months. I am not simply seeking a job, but actively looking for a vocation. I will only apply to those who will employ me in activities which I shall enjoy, and will make all possible attempts to escape from the fiendish electronic machinery and moronic users with which and whom I am currently plagued. I will continue working with these differential engines if, and only if, I manage to become independent of the mediocre management under which I have suffered since beginning in this trade. The only exception to such an ambition will be when I take a month, either in February or soon afterwards, in which I will attempt to raise funds by charging people for the pleasure of my company. This of course will require dedicated training, and high amounts of attention to my appearance, but all noble young men should do such anyway and I feel this can only help me in either ambition.

A third ambition will be the cessation of all nicotinous inhalations by the New Year, as well as the avoidance of all alcohol-related activities except for those in social environs. Even then my intake of such intoxicating products will be reduced to such levels as I retain my full functions and diction, though judgment is permitted to become moderately impaired during such activities.

As for progress on the first ambition, currently I have correspondence with personages on the continents of the New World, the European continent and the African continent. As such I must still find individuals to write to in the Southern section of the New World, the mysterious lands of Asia, and that colony of Australia. Antartica will of course remain my largest challenge, being that the continent is largely uninhabited, except for small pockets of scientific researchers, and I imagine that few of them have the time or inclination to attend to my humble abode on the international network of computers.

Recently at my current place of employment I have found myself with both too much time unoccupied, and an abundance of plasticine. I wish to introduce you all to my latest creation, a product of both of these.

Word of the day: Huna - The unpleasant result of coming to the wrong decision.

A Minor Scuffle

2007-11-13T20:20:00.000Z

It has been a long whil since I have been required to use my more martial skills, but I found myself with such opportunity tonight. I decided that this night I would partake in an evening stroll for the purpose of delivering certain letters, by way of the post box. On this same stroll I decided to enjoy a drug in a form commonly referred to as a 'cancer stick', and had already slightly over-indulged in wine of a reddish hue.

It so happens that my journey to the delivery box belonging to the royal mail was to take me past a habitat much enamoured of certain less reputable aspects of young society. It was, at the time that I passed it, being utilised by a small number of such youths, in the style of dress adopted to replicate certain supposed artists of a musical style known as 'hip-hop', or approximating said style. As may be known to you, individuals adopting this style are often of a violent persuasion and greeted me in a civilized manner with shouts of 'Oi, long-hair, go'a spare cig?'

After a moment spent translating their strange dialect, I replied to the leader of the trio. 'Not for you.'

They seemed to take some offense at this, and the leader dared to lay hands upon my noble person, seizing my wrist and demanding that I provide them with these mysterious 'cigs'. I did not appreciate this, and am rather proud of myself for coming up with the witty retort of 'Unhand me thou cur.'

Such language seemed to cause some degree of consternation among the youths, and the one laying hands upon my arm did look rather suprised. Through my martial training I knew that the best way to avoid further confrontation was to free myself, and back away, and that this could easily be accomplished with no injury to any involved. However, I had not appreciated the insults that this uncivilized young lad had hurled in my direction, and decided for a more complex approach.

After the rapid application of my foot to the groinal area of his body, and the following application of a knee to his face, and an elbow to the spine, his compatriots decided that discretion was the better part of valour and beat a hasty retreat. Meanwhile my attacker was still breathing, and conscious, though seemed in no state to talk or object, and after scrambling to his feet followed his colleagues.

Meanwhile I continued on my jaunt, enjoying my cancer stick, and delivering my missives for dispersal to those who had requested them.

Red Letter Club

2007-11-13T17:27:00.000Z

Suprisingly, more people took me up on this in the first day than I was expecting. The number is at four at the moment, which is four more than I was expecting, and anyone else interested in having a physical, actual letter is welcome to e-mail me. I am enjoying this writing thing.

In other news I am getting more than a little fed up with work. Today my most exciting task involved two hours of dragging items around on a screen, and clicking the occasional button. My job search is rapidly becoming more enthusiastic. If I do not find something soon I may have to start looking into thieving.

The escort idea, as well as the own business idea, have also been running through my mind a lot. I have decided that if I do not have something full time by the end of January I am applying to join an agency for a month, and we will see how it goes from there.

Should be visiting Student on Thursday after work, and then I have a weekend of rest and relaxation. This will also include no internet, but I will try to make a couple of posts through the magic of gabcast.

Red Letter Day

2007-11-12T15:55:00.000Z

I do not write letters, ever. Or at least I do not until today. Today though I received a letter, and replied, and have decided that I quite enjoy writing them. I still have a stack of air mail paper and envelopes left though, currently unused, so I have come up with a plan.

Anyone who gives me their address, by e-mail obviously not just in the reader comments box, will receive in return a letter. If you request something specific you will probably get it, otherwise you may get absolutely anything. Random ramblings, a piece of poetry, a short story, an essay on the supernatural, or anything else in between. If you would like to be able to write back, let me know that as well and I will include a return address for you to write to.

I never really understood the appeal of pen-pals when I was younger, or of writing, but I think I may be beginning to get it.

So remember, send me your address by e-mail and I will send you a letter. Send a request as well and I will do my best to fulfill it in the letter. Your own addresses only though please, I do not want to end up writing to complete strangers.

The only thing I ask in return is that when you get a letter you let me know, whether by e-mail or by putting up a mention of it on your blog is unimportant. I would just like to get reactions from people.

Desperate Cries

2007-11-12T09:33:00.000Z

I appreciate that babies can be difficult, that they can sometimes just cry and cry and cry. I can understand all of that. I can put up with being woken up much earlier than I need to be because my nephew is crying, and it often makes him stop if he is walked through the house, including past the door of my room. I can understand that you may not think about other people in your desperation to make him stop, therefore a bath seems like a good idea, since that often calms him down. Even though the bath room is seperated from mine by a single plaster wall, and the bath just makes him louder.

I can sympathise with your desperation and stress after he has been crying for two hours, all of which I should point out I have had to listen to. I can appreciate that the desperate cries he is making are driving you to insanity because, trust me, they are doing the same with me. All of this I can sympathise with, with my infinite patience.

Now shut the little brat up or take him somewhere else in the house before I brain him! I know he is my nephew but I was trying to sleep, I need some rest. I love him dearly I will admit, but frankly he is not my bloody baby and I should not have to spend two hours early in the morning listening to him scream. I should not have to tread delicately and be polite around you after having put up with this screaming, and tolerate your yelling at me for closing a door to try and muffle the sound. I have every right to try not to listen to him, even if he is ill. If you had not been dumb enough to take antibiotics while you were on the pill and having rebound sex with your new boyfriend because your fiance dumped you then this would not even be my problem.

Now either give me some cigarettes, since I am out, or get him and yourself out of arms reach.

Three hours now, and still going. My sanity and temper will return soon I am sure.

Tattoos

2007-11-11T14:03:00.000Z

For the last few years I have considered getting some tattoos done. Just small ones of certain semi-abstract designs with various different superstitious meanings. This is a quick, short post to announce that I have finally decided to get the first of these done, and am just debating about placement. The options are inside of the wrist, upper arm, inside of the forearm, shoulder blade or chest.

This is the first design I am planning to get. It does have various meanings attached to it, though there is a specific one for which I am getting it. I have been deciding about these tattoos for three years now, waiting not only until I felt it was an appropriate time but also until I was at least reasonably sure I would not regret getting them done.

I will probably stick to the same sort of size as the picture here, maybe a little larger, but nothing huge. There are quite a few more of these after all. All I need to do now is go and speak with a tattooist and get everything arranged.

Thinking of Being an Escort

2007-11-11T13:28:00.000Z

As you may know, I have a serious lack of money, particularly for the lifestyle I want to lead. As well as applying for various different jobs, full time rather than the part time one that I work now and trying to get more hours where I am now I am looking at more creative solutions. Among these are talking to a friend about a business idea, possibly more news on that later when I have spoken with them, and joining an escort agency.

Either of these will take time, and a lot of effort. For the escort agency I would need to get back into shape and start taking a lot more care of my appearance. I would also probably need to start paying a lot more attention to modern culture and news.

What I really want to know is other people's advice and views on this idea. I have had friends commenting that it seems a little too much like selling myself, but being an escort is not supposed to involve sex, and frankly with my love of attention the fact that people might pay for my attention is a huge buzz. I enjoy meeting with and talking to people, and would even say that I can be a very engaging conversationalist.

The only big problem I can see with this whole thing is that I am not happy with dancing, so I would need to work on that. I would also need to expand my wardrobe rather a lot.

So, ideas, views, advice, criticisms of the ideas, anything else?

And would anyone consider hiring me? That is probably my biggest concern, that no one might want to book me. Not great for confidence.

Domestically Skilled or Unskilled

2007-11-10T15:17:00.000Z

I can never understand how it can be that someone can reach adulthood without knowing how to use something as simple as a washing machine, or make a baked potato. Yet for some people knowing nothing about how to survive independently seems to be a point of pride as much as anything else. I pity these people, especially these days when women are no longer content to be housewives.

I am very thankful that they are not content to be simple housewives as well, hopefully it will mean that these people can no longer survive for long. They will find themselves alone, slowly dying of malnutrition, rotting in filthy, rag-like clothes.

These are such simple skills, so how can it be that not only is someone incapable of performing them, but actively proud of that fact? I can understand not being able to make a complicated meal for twelve, although that is not particularly difficult. I can understand not knowing how to boil soap or handwash clothes in a stream, though again, not difficult. But not being able to throw a potato in the oven for a while, or fry a steak? Not being able to put some clothes in a machine, throw in some liquid, and press a button?

How do these people live with themselves? Really?

Misplaced in Time

2007-11-10T10:50:00.000Z

I have a theory that people can be misplaced at birth. Obviously I am not speaking literally here, it is technically possible for babies to be put in the wrong place at a hospital, or left behind, or children to go missing but that is not what I am talking about. Some people have a natural empathy with certain cultures or traditions. Some people feel a resonance with a certain country. And most importantly, and relevant to this post, is that some people have a feeling that they should be in a certain time.

I feel that I should have been born in a time, and a way, where life was slower and riskier. Where when someone insulted me or annoyed me I could challenge them to a duel and have the whole matter resolved in a few minutes of swordplay, or a simple pistol shot. I should be in a time where I would be considered a scoundrel or a cad rather than a playboy or a slut. I should be around when it would not be considered odd for me to wear a frilled shirt, and to use formal language for the simplest of matters.

And I should be in a time where having a case of ivory appointment cards to hand to a butler would be considered normal. Where civility and politeness could be infinitely more cutting and insulting than a simple 'fuck you'.

Unfortunately I cannot even find such cards, despite my best attempts, and the style of dress I would like to adopt is far beyond my price range.

So what do I do instead? Well I practice a hobby called live-action roleplay, where I can play pretend with up to thousands of other adults who all play alongside. Several weekends a year. It is expensive, but its my holiday from reality and so is worth it. It also has been the thing that drives me to learn how to sword-fight, staff-fight, learn archery, how to throw knives, how to use a shield, an axe, a hammer, and just about any other weapon you could name.

Fun though.

Experiences of Sex and Pain

2007-11-09T15:56:00.000Z

Even for supposedly vanilla people sex and pain are often intrinsically linked. This post may contain a handful of terms which some are not familiar with, so it might be easier for me to explain them now. Vanilla refers to plain sex, though people use the term differently. Some use it to refer to any sex which does not involve some sort of kink or violence, others use it to refer specifically to missionary sex. Bondage refers to being bound, whether with rope, chains or anything else. Domination and submission refer to power plays, usually just during sex but for some people extending a long way outside the bedroom. Sadomasochism is an enjoyment of giving or receiving pain.

One important thing for this post is the distinction between kinks and fetishes. A fetish is a strictly defined term, and in terms of sex means something without which someone cannot have sex. A kink on the other hand is simply something which can enhance the experience or enjoyment of sex. I have many, many kinks, but no true fetishes.

Now as to my own experiences, my first experience of rough sex, sadomasochism, was also the first time I actually had sex. That one I have already talked about, so this is more for the others.

Mainly in alternative sex, as it is sometimes described, I tend to take a dominant role. It can happen that the right person can push me into a submissive attitude, but that is extremely rare. The first time that occurred was with the same girl who I had my first time with. I ended up being entertainment for a party, though I still do not know how many people there were at the party, having been blindfolded and restrained for the whole time. The details are rather vague and blurred in my head, the whole thing being a mess of voices, hands, and the occasional mouth, for eight hours.

I could barely move afterwards. Being locked with your wrists to your ankles for eight hours of writhing and struggling takes its toll on your joints. I had marks around my wrists and ankles for weeks afterwards.

Of course as I said I have been very much on the other side before, I have had people acting as my pets for days, following every order, surrendering everything in the way of choice to me for a time and taking punishment if they disobey. This is why I am looking forward to my trip to Ireland, it has been a long time since I have been able to play with someone with that level of submission. I have various toys along those lines, a simple whip which I have never used. It is more a prop than anything else. A cane which is particularly well-made, with a nice weight, and leaves good solid welts when correctly applied to the body. Carefully blunted knives which can prick and give the illusion of danger, but are incapable of actually cutting.

Safety is actually important in this sort of sex though. Safe words are used in case things go too far, something I am careful to establish with any partner who may be partaking in risky activities with me. I have spare keys for any restraints I have, and a small set of lockpicks just in case those go missing.

Definitely looking forward to Ireland though, where I can actually put this sort of thing to its full use again. I may not want to indulge every time, but every now and then it is an urge which I want to have a chance to explore.

Masquerade

2007-11-08T22:54:00.000Z

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."
- Oscar Wilde

Masks are really quite amazing things. Little pieces of plastic, or china, or bone, or leather, or whatever else you might use. You place them over a face and suddenly the person is no longer there. That identity, even the personality is gone.

In the course of studying for a psychology degree I came across a concept of a social construct. These are used by people essentially to describe things. For example, if I say to you 'a doctor', it will instantly conjure an image in your mind. Our images may not be identical, but assuming that we are brought up in similar cultures and societies they will be similar. This is a particular example of a social construct, a stereotype associated with a word. If I were to put two constructs together, such as a 'young doctor', your image will change to incorporate the new information.

These constructs can be narrowed down much more, from stereotypes to instead describe facets of a person or even a thing. Concentrating on a person though, the different personalities they present to the world are social constructs. These are not simply pictures or ideas we hold in our heads, independent of the world. This is a two-way communication we hold with society. If we are told that we should be something, and everyone around us is that something, we will alter not only how we act but our very perception of ourselves on the spur of the moment to present a new construct to observers. The playboy-type, happy-go-lucky Mr R Rabbit presented in this blog may be intended by myself to be an accurate representation of myself, and in many ways is so, but even I will never be able to tell exactly how accurate it is as the very act of reading or writing in this blog almost forces me to put forward the appropriate facets of my personality.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with masks, particularly physical masks. Well constructs can change in an instant. The moment a certain person steps into a conversation for example people may go from open, raucous, the life and soul of a party, to quiet, withdrawn and shy. But now what happens if instead we have some sort of protection, a layer between us and everything else, a physical mask concealing that part of us which is most recognisable.

Often people say that masks make us all feel less inhibited, but that seems to me to be an over-simplification. In many way yes, masks do actually allow us to present more of ourselves than we otherwise might. We do not have to worry about judgment, because we can always throw away the mask and start again. We are no free-er than we were before though. Even behind an actual mask we are still presenting a construct, made up of what we believe others should see, or may want to see, what we ourselves think, and what we want to see. All we are doing is making that seperation easier.

Wear a mask and look in a mirror. You are no longer you, the true you is more hidden than ever, you are purely what you present to people, protected and safe. Safe enough to let this stranger in a mask do things that you may have hidden even from yourself. So behind that mask we are letting go and trying new things, but not because we can reveal our true selves, simply because we are better hidden.

If you have doubts, think of this, why do many people find it so much easier to have sex with the lights off? Why are there so many fetishes for costumes? Why are so many costumes and ideas designed to make all involved in sex something other than what they are, adding another layer of pretense to the wrapping? There is nothing wrong with this, but we should at least be honest.

This was meant to be a post much more about masks and costumes in sex, but I got myself a little distracted. I will do a post about anonymising sex, and role-play another time. I have to stop getting distracted like this.

Actually I will have to set up a poll. I am curious about what direction people think I should take this blog in, or if I should just carry on with the chaotic system I am using at the moment.

A Challenge to Anonymous Flamers

2007-11-08T17:19:00.000Z

I enjoy a good argument. Particularly as I usually win them. But I have become rather irritated with people who anonymously post insults on other people's blogs. I am almost certainly much more morally corrupt and probably easier to take offense at than most. So why do these people go for much more well-behaved, much more reasonable bloggers and attack them?

I am sure I am not that scary, but I suppose it is possible.

Anyway my challenge is as follows. If anyone has the nerve to flame me, and put their name and contacts in the comment, they are more than welcome. If anyone wants to flame me anonymously, go for it. I love playing with you people, you tend to have such limited vocabularies and make such lovely fools of themselves.

For anyone else, you are welcome to put whatever comments or questions you want to me, anonymously. Criticise all you want. Insult all you want. Let me know exactly what you think. No flattery or anything else. I am curious about what people will say. Of course, I may rebutt it completely or tear you to pieces, but I still want to know.

Pet Names and Nicknames

2007-11-08T11:34:00.000Z

I am sure that everyone has been called by one of these at some point in their life. Whether as a term of endearment such as sweetie, pet, gorgeous, or something similar which now breeches our lovely new view of political correctness, or as something less pleasant or less innocent. I tend to use these for people a lot. Even male friends will occasionally get called 'Sugarpie' or 'Snugglelumps', usually when I am trying to scrounge a drink from them. The most common two which I use though are 'Girly' and 'Boy'.

Of course this does irritate some people, particularly when I start using them on people obviously older than me, but in general I get away with it. Some limited number of the people I know actually have nicknames of their own, which I will usually use.

The kicker is that I personally believe a nickname you have acquired down the years actually says something about you, whether that is pleasant or unpleasant. You have actually earned a true nickname, and it will then stay with you faithfully. Only the closest of my family use my real name when speaking to or of me, anyone else calls me 'Rabbit' or 'Bunny', or variations thereof. That name has been with me for years now, since I was at University, and while it may be overly-feminized or just plain silly, it is my nickname and I am rather attached to it.

The theorised reasons for my nickname are many, and varied, but you can now hear the true story. At University I shared a house with various people of the female persuasion. Comments were made likening me in various ways to members of the lapine species. Eventually the comments stopped being made, and simply the name remained. Of course, one evening while the group of us were watching a film the conversation ended up turning to sex toys. During this conversation the Ann Summers Rampant Rabbit was mentioned, and things moved from there.

So what are your nicknames, and how did you get them? If you do not have one what would you like it to be and why?

Only a few weeks now until my trip into the land of debauchery and sin, which I am rather looking forward to. Slave has apparently been cleaning for the last few days, or at least trying to clean. Hopefully she will be meeting me at the airport, and with a little luck I can restrain myself until the risk of being hauled in by security guards is gone.

Also looking forward to meeting up with, or rather staying with, Student in a couple of weeks. Just for a night before I go camping, but with any luck she will be joining me on the weekend as well.

Cutting and Self-Harm

2007-11-07T14:09:00.000Z

Self harm is a topic which is now being mentioned more often, but is often mentioned in a similar way to leprosy. There seems to be mostly pity for anyone who practices self-harm, rather than sympathy. It often seems that there is more actual sympathy for addicts, or people with eating disorders. These do all have similarities, which is why I mention them together.

All of these are coping mechanisms, addictions, self-harm, eating disorders, all usually begin as methods to deal with stress or misery. My own started around the time of my seperation from my wife, a particularly stressful time as I also could not find a job, and was for a short time homeless before I could face asking my parents to let me move back in. I managed to avoid starting smoking, which came much later, and avoid any other substance addictions. After all affording them was a little difficult.

What I did find though, which did help me cope, was that I could hurt myself. The insides of my forearms are heavily scarred, some of these scars are from other events but many are my own doing. I was extremely careful at the time, not wanting to risk causing any serious damage to myself, so I made sure to sterilise any blade I used, make sure it was sharp and smooth, and so on. Pretty much in the same way that a heroin addict might sterilise a needle.

As to what exactly it did, that is hard to say. In a physiological context I could point out that pain and injury releases adrenaline and endorphins, a very definite rush. In a psychological context it is a control method. The pain and injury, and the scars or wounds left behind, are signs that there is still some little bit of your own life that you are the one in control of. I will admit that this is not sensible in any way but that does not stop it from being at least partly true. It is an addiction, and it does help to cope, but as with any addiction once the need for the coping mechanism is gone the habit often remains.

I finally stopped at the same moment as I decided to stop cutting my hair. Part of the reason I am so concerned about people cutting my hair is because of this, it represents the fact that I have decided that part of my life is over. I had a lot of help before stopping, but when I actually did it was something I chose to do on my own.

For anyone else who may self-harm, remember that as with any coping mechanism or addiction you need to be careful not to put yourself at serious risk. And I do recommend getting real help, whether from a professional or someone else. There are all sorts of ways you can try and cut down on the addiction, such as wrapping rubber bands around your wrists.

The big problem now though is the fashion self-harmers. A large part of the reason I have an intense dislike of emos is the impression they seem to be insistent on giving that self-harming somehow is required to be in their clique. Accept someone who does it, without showing revulsion, yes, but actively encouraging people to cut themselves is just twisted, and not in a good way.

Now to emphasize my view. I will not condemn anyone who does it any more than I would a smoker, or alcoholic, how they deal with it and how it affects others is what will tip the balance. Better than any of these methods is to get real help to deal with things, or to just deal with it alone, and no addiction should ever be taken up whether as a coping mechanism or anything else.

Pain and Pleasure

2007-11-06T18:52:00.000Z

Admittedly this is a very stereotypical post for someone like me to make, and has been discussed many times before, but I still feel like mentioning it. I cannot think of anything else to post about tonight at least, though suggestions for future posts are more than welcome. Anyway onto the topic.

One of my more disturbing party tricks was discovered a while ago by a friend who wanted to show off his grip. He tried to crush my hand, in the middle of a pub. The moan I let out was enough to discourage anyone from doing it again. The fact that I had a stupid, semi-orgasmic grin on my face for the next few minutes only made it worse. Similar incidents have occured before, and since, usually prompted by comments of 'hurt him, its funny' or suchlike by friends.

Now while I do not mind people finding my reaction to pain fairly comical most of the time, it can get a little irritating. In a way it might be thought of as someone finding it amusing that you find it pleasurable to have someone kiss your neck. If pain is a sensual pleasure, then inflicting that pain becomes linked in some way to that pleasure. That pleasure, even if it may be enjoyable to be watched, or take risks in public, is still a highly intimate thing, and so pain becomes the same.

The other thing I should mention is that not all pain is the same. In a fight for instance I do not want to get hurt. In a context where things could be serious, where I could end up severely injured, it stops being fun. Only when things are casual, or at least I am not in actual danger, are things enjoyable.

Now to flip the coin I also enjoy inflicting pain, again in a relatively safe manner. For anyone who may not know the fancy word for this, sadomasochist is the term that you are looking for. If you are thinking of the stereotypical leather-wearing person in bondage then I am afraid you are under a misconception.

As to why I enjoy it, something I have been asked before, I have some difficulty explaining. It may simple be that I enjoy sensation, all sensation, and pain is amazingly close to the sensation that orgasm brings. Or it may just be bad wiring in my brain. It could even be a deep-buried self-loathing that makes me enjoy being hurt. Any of those could be the case, essentially though I enjoy giving and receiving pain.

This post has ended up a little longer than I was planning, so any how-to tips or details of my own experiences will have to wait until another time. I think experiences might well be saved until after I have had a chance to visit Slave in Ireland and play a little more in this particular fetish.

Commitment Phobia

2007-11-06T07:22:00.000Z

This is mainly a post to explain my last one, since it seems to have confused people. Valley is not the only one asking me why I do not want a relationship with Sweetie, though she is the only one to have left a comment. My reasons go back a long way.

My relationships to date, ones where I have been committed, have not turned out well. Probably the best I have had in recent times was one that ended recently because the girl's paranoia did not let her accept that I was not cheating. Along with various supposed 'friends' trying to tell her that I was cheating so that they could sleep with her, she knew my reputation too well and found it difficult to deal with.

I will not have a committed relationship with Sweetie for several reasons. The first ties back to past relationships, and essentially boils down to me now being unwilling to commit to anyone who cannot simply accept me and trust me as I am. For all her qualities Sweetie is paranoid, and the distance is not helpful in that regard. While she can accept that I may be seeing other people, I honestly do not believe she could trust me if I told her that I was not.

The second is more related to who she is, and how she is. As I have said before she is a lovely, sweet girl. Unfortunately this means that I have to restrain myself constantly around her. I am not a lovely, sweet person. I can be very nice, but I am honestly not a nice person. Again, if I am to go into a relationship then it needs to be with someone who can accept that occasionally I do want a raging argument to settle me. I want them to stand up for themselves and make cutting remarks right back at me.

And the third boils down to sex. While Sweetie is somewhat open-minded in her attitude to sex, she shares only a couple of her kinks with me. It has been a very long time since I have been able to indulge myself properly during sex and I really do miss it. Being stuck having nothing but vanilla sex, with the same person, as my only amusement has been proven to drive me mad in the past.

So if someone fills all three criteria, I might consider a relationship. Otherwise I am going to continue being me.

I suppose I should also clarify what I mean by a relationship. To me it implies commitment to the other person. Yes, that is suprisingly close-minded and traditional of me but in the way that most people understand that is what a relationship means. We lack the words to describe other sorts properly.

Apparently I Am Not Irresistable

2007-11-05T23:04:00.000Z

I know, I know, this is a hard idea to come to terms with, but it appears to be true.

Actually the title of this entry is a bit of a lie. Not that I am not irresistable, that but is true, but it is a bit off-topic for the rest of the post. For some reason all I could think to write about tonight was confidence, and lack of it or over-abundance of it. See the thing is I actually have both. Simultaneously I can have complete and utter self-confidence, almost offensively so, and act accordingly, and I can be utterly insecure and uncertain about everything.

I suppose the title is somewhat related. It does not shake my faith in myself if someone does not find me attractive, or even likeable. In fact it does not alter my view of myself at all, I know that some people find me attractive and that is enough. Except that it is not, because there is a flip side to the coin. The fact that people find me attractive, and I know that they do, does nothing to boost my confidence because I never seem to be able to persuade myself that it means anything.

I am sure I am not the only one who feels this, and do not believe I am for a second. I am just curious whether anyone thinks this is due to some unshakeable self-doubt inside me, instilled during years of torment in childhood, or whether it is the opposite and I have some sort of permanent internal self-belief, simply from surviving said torment.

And in other news, off to see yet another new member of the cast in a couple of weeks. For now I think Student will do for her, as it is a nicely descriptive name. She is kind of cute, can match me for innuendo quite comfortably, and has no interest in any form of relationship or commitment. At least in theory.

Sweetie is prodding for some sort of commitment, but so far she does not seem to want to go as far as pushing me into it. I appreciate that she is not trying to push me, but it does make me feel a little guilty. I know I am not using her and I have told her that there are others but I almost feel that it would be better for her to find someone else and realise that there are people out there who will have a genuine relationship with her.

Fireworks Are Dangerous

2007-11-05T11:14:00.000Z

So you see those pretty things up there? Those ones which go boom, whizz, flash and crackle? The ones which sparkle and shine and light up the sky? The ones which fall over and get stuck in their launchers, or in the case of some fly free of their securing nail and spiral across the garden in a whirl of sparkling fury?

Yes, fireworks. They are immense fun. But has anyone else noticed that they are at their best when things do not go quite to plan? Take our little home display last night. We had a highly successful bonfire, even if we did all need to shelter from the heat behind a tree when it was at its best. And we may have accidentally set fire to a large patch of bamboo and burned it half to the ground before anyone managed to get the fire extinguisher out, but it was fun all the same.

Then we moved on to the actual display.

That was when the fun really started.

We started the display with a rocket, a very large rocket, lit by yours truly. Sadly the launching tube must have been pressed a little too firmly into the ground so that the rocket's own stick ended up stuck in the earth. As you can imagine, in an explosive device with a blast radius of about twenty to thirty metres and intended to fire off at a height of maybe a hundred feet, being stuck is not a good thing.

It did actually launch, eventually, but the delay must have been a little too much. It had barely cleared the roof when it detonated with a shockwave that nearly took us off our feet, shattered a couple of windows, and echoed for a good few minutes.

You might consider that this could be taken as a bad omen, and a sign to cease the display. Not so! The windows were quickly boarded up and repair people are coming today, and the display continued. The next melodrama to occur involved a firework designed to fire sixty four shots, which would delight young and old with their explosive, then crackling descent. It must be admitted that it did almost exactly what it said on the tin.

The only problem was that the first shot for some reason jarred it free of its bed of earth and onto its side. It then lay on its side and fired sixty three shots directly at the house of our neighbour, probably causing much distress inside as it must have sounded like a siege weapon going off as each shot detonated when it hit the wall of their house.

And still the display continued, though with no further problems.

In other news, Tart is now being cut free for simplicity. Things were fine when all she was offering were fun and games, but now she is poking for more of a relationship and I have already had one with her, which ended badly, so no thanks. Another one down, though a few more potentials on the horizon. I will have to tell you about those should something actually come of them. Affair is still demonstrating more and more interest, I get the strong feeling her current boyfriend is ignoring her, and given that this is one of only two girls I have ever met with a sex drive to match mine it must be driving her insane.

And of course, as always, there is Stalker. She has now taken to sending me pictures, from a range of different e-mail addresses and accompanied by stories. The pictures are quite obviously of her, but for some reason they really do not push any buttons I might have. I think my dislike of her is preventing me from becoming aroused by such images, even though they would should they come from other people.

Party Dresses and Distractions

2007-11-04T17:37:00.001Z

We may have been a little late for the party yesterday. I take no responsibility for this. All Sweetie would have needed to do was tell me to stop and I would have done. But she was wearing such a nice little red dress, lovely and form fitting. I could not resist it. So we ended up with her bent forwards over the bed, her dress shoved up around her hips, her panties on the floor somewhere, and me fucking her from behind. We did not manage to find her panties afterwards, so she had to go without for the night. Made things easier when we got back from the party and repeated, and in the taxi there and on the way back where I enjoyed fingering her quietly.

We did get to the party in time for food though, and I even did a little dancing afterwards. I do not often dance, so this is a very rare occasion. Food was very nice indeed, three full courses, steak for the main course and creme brulee for dessert.

In other news, Affair is demonstrating more interest. To the point of telling me when her boyfriend is out and asking me to please come up, fuck her, and cover her in cum. Those are her words not mine. There were also mentions of taking pictures of her before, after and during. I may have to scrape the money together to go and see her. I could do with something relatively kinky after a weekend of fairly vanilla.

Oh, last incident with Sweetie was this morning. I woke up horny, and she was asleep. Apparently she does not mind being woken up with sex in the morning, though I am curious what she was dreaming about as my real name is certainly not Mike.

Experimental Voice Recording Stuff

2007-11-03T17:30:00.000Z

Well someone has asked to hear my accent, so while I am incredibly insecure about my voice I tried to set up a voice blog entry thing on here for the weekend, while I was away. Unfortunately it does not seem to have worked properly so while the entry is now here, it is a little delayed. It should have been posted up at about five o'clock last night.

Voice Diary of a Rampant Rabbit #1

Bits That I Like

2007-11-02T14:51:00.000Z

This is another vanity entry, all about me again and asking my faithful readers a question. The unfaithful readers can answer too if they must, but I'm watching you.

On to the topic of relevance today, which comes from a comment made to me while I was shopping for party food. A rather odd comment, but it got me thinking. Someone said that I had nice arm hair. Now let us be honest, this is a little weird, so I asked them about it. They said they had never seen any like it. Now I am getting more confused. Usually I assume that I am average in almost every way, in fact I often believe this even in the face of evidence, so a comment about my arm hair caught me a little by suprise.

They then explained, and I am now on a quest to find others with the same thing. Apparently most people have hair on their arms that is simply even all around, except for their lower forearm. Mine is mostly normal, but I have distinctive lines where it naturally grows in the same direction along the edge of each forearm. There must be others like that.

This comment caused my mind to drift and eventually come to the conclusion that there are two body parts I am completely happy with. There are my arms. Apparently I have very nice arms, according to a wide range of sources. This does extend to my hands as well. The other is my hair. I am extremely vain about my hair, sort of, I do not take amazing care of it other than to wash and condition it regularly, but I will not suffer sharp bladed instruments near it. I detest going to the hair dresser's, and will go at most twice a year and then only for a trim.

So the question is, what parts of your body are you happy with, and which parts are you proud of, and can I see them?

Off to do more party preparation now.

Everyone Has a First Time

2007-11-02T00:21:00.000Z

As the title says, everyone has a first time and I am curious about yours.

Not when you lost your virginity. Frankly first time sex stories are usually fairly dull, and useful only to be told in person while under the influence of alcohol. Even the more interesting ones are never that special.

No, my curiousity today extends to alcohol. Recently I have caught myself drinking more than I usually do, and this is not a good thing. I am not drinking enough to get drunk, which takes rather a lot, but I am starting to drink more often on my own when I get stressed or depressed. This got me thinking about the first time I got drunk, and by extension got me wanting to know everyone else's first time.

I am a nosy old git sometimes.

But I will be fair. If I expect you to tell me about yours then I will tell you about mine.

Mine started when I woke up in a nice, clean hospital bed on a Tuesday afternoon, with a saline drip in my arm. No trace of a hangover, or anything else. In fact really the only problem seemed to be that my clothes were missing and I was in a hospital gown. Slowly as I lay there bits of the story came back to me, others I managed to piece together later.

I was fourteen, had just sailed with sixty other people on a three-masted ship with no engine to Denmark and back over the last nine days, and we had hit port a day early. Apart from nearly colliding with an oil tanker, and a mild storm, the trip had been quiet and uneventful. It had been a pleasant voyage, and the captain suggested that we should all attend a bar he knew of in order to celebrate a safe return. This seemed an excellent idea to me at the time, as I thought it would help me accept that the girl I had been sharing a bunk with (no full pentrative sex had occured, but just about everything else had) would be going back to her home town, a good six hundred miles from my own.

To the bar we went, with the last of our spending money. In my own case my left over money was in the region of sixty pounds. I discovered this was more than enough to allow me to get very, very drunk. According to other party-goers I managed to get through twenty to thirty double whiskeys, as well as spreading the joy around. After this I must have thought that it was a good idea to gather up my bunk buddy in my arms, and start back towards the ship, intending on a passionate and prolonged farewell.

This did not go entirely to plan. Somehow we did make it back to the docks, though how is still a mystery to me. I only know that we made it because a few of the more responsible drinkers apparently assigned themselves as our body guards, working on the sensible presumption that otherwise we could well turn up dead, or not turn up the next day. I selected a pier, and began to tug the object of my affections towards the end of it where our ship awaited in the shadowy, unlit darkness.

I then, according to witnesses, vanished with a splash.

Into the North Sea, off the coast of Scotland.

In Midwinter.

I woke up in the hospital the next morning.

Reason I am talking about this is that is pretty much how I feel right now. I just found out, after weeks of waiting, that not only did I not get the job, but that a decision I took today has placed me in direct opposition to my manager, and everyone else in my office, at work. It is a similar sort of feeling to that moment which flashes back to me now and then, stepping forwards onto what should have been solid ground, feeling uncertain but relieved at the potential of safety, then suddenly nothing there except freezing water.

Halloween Costumes and Traumatised Tricksters

2007-10-31T20:29:00.000Z

Well for a last-minute attempt it cannot be considered all that disastrous. I could not get a waistcoat, or a better shirt, or a rapier. I was stuck with a longsword instead but it will do. The cane incidentally is part of my collection, and was a very expensive Christmas gift from a particularly masochistic ex-girlfriend. It has a decent weight to it, but is just the right shape to leave nothing more than welts and bruises. Have to be careful about the glass crystal on the end though, the metal setting it is in caused rather more severe damage when someone took offense to my rather gothic outfit a few years back.

In fact that was another Halloween, when I had some rather less reputable friends than I do now, when I was actually the good boy of the group. In a way anyhow.

I may not have mentioned before but I have studied various different ways to use weapons, my own body, and other people's bodies in order to inflict harm. I have also spent a long time learning about how bodies, nerves, joints and muscles work. This is all rather off-topic though.

Every Halloween so far I have ended up in some form of fight. I have never in my life started a fight, and I try to stay out of them, but this is where my luck of the devil comes in. I will explain that another time.

This Halloween it seems is going to be peaceful, no one trying to egg the house or throw bricks at it for once. I should be able to just stay inside here. mix myself a cocktail, and relax.

Exit Stage Left

2007-10-30T22:08:00.000Z

Well there we go, one down. I made a decision tonight that I am cutting myself loose from Miss Complicated. I have removed her phone number from my phone, taken her off various other lists and things that I am a member of, and just left it. I am fed up of being messed around.

That may sound odd coming from me, with the number of relationships I have, but as I said I fall in love, like, lust, call it whatever you want easily. Once I am there I will do everything within my power to keep them as happy as I can. I will try to see them, I will try to be there for them if they need it, I will do whatever I can for them.

What I will not do is make constant excuses not to see them. I will not avoid them, while telling them that I just cannot make up my mind. If they ask for what I think of them, and anyone else who may be in my life, then I will be honest with them and tell them what I feel about them, what I feel about anyone else, and that if they ask me to choose then they should know what my choice will be. I will tell them if they seem to be hurt or upset that I will miss them, but that maybe just friends would be better.

I will not try and keep them in a constant mental dance where they cannot be sure where they stand, how I feel about them or anything else. Sure I recognise that she is confused, that she does not know how she feels, but I am no longer going to be the one who deals with it.

So, goodbye Miss Complicated, though you will hopefully never read this.

And apologies for the depressing post everyone, I will cheer up shortly.

Love, Hate and My Inability to Have Casual Sex

2007-10-30T00:08:00.000Z

Casual sex is supposed to be a fun and entertaining thing for all involved, and in a way I regret that I find it impossible to have it. The idea of essentially using another person as a masturbatory aid, having no feelings whatsoever for them, no emotional connection, no little spark, nothing is a huge turn-off for me. In fact it makes me feel sick.

Angel's to blame for this post in a way, since she made a costume suggestion and I always like to fully research a costume. I found the character, at least the more modern one, stunningly appealing. I felt I had a lot in common with him. I am not arrogant enough to consider myself the greatest lover in the world, probably simply somewhere in the top ten, but the modern, romanticised version definitely has habits I can sympathise with.

To clarify for anyone who may not know, Don Juan deMarco is a semi-mythological figure and has been changed over the years. He started out as a callous heartbreaker, uncaring about the women he seduced, simply trying to prove his worth through the sheer quantity of his lovers. In more modern versions of the tale though he has changed somewhat, to become something of a fool who simply falls in love with great ease. It is arguable whether his conquests are people he has seduced, or simply people he is unable to refuse. There was what is supposed to be a good film starring Johnny Depp released, but I have yet to see the film.

This is the bit where I feel sympathy for him. I know that I fall for people very easily, not necessarily love, but something. I find it impossible not to form some sort of emotional attachment to most people, whether that attachment is affectionate or repulsion, there is almost always something. One of the things that most offends me is being referred to as a 'player'. I am not, in any way, a player. At least not as I see it. A player is the original form of Don Juan, a heartbreaker who only cares for their own pleasure and is simply trying to rack up their score. On the other hand I am quite happy being referred to as a slut. It seems fair, I find it very difficult to say no to people, particularly people I like. In fact I have slept with people who I could be considered to hate before, but that is a long and complicated story for another time.

And now some other news. I have apparently achieved two things in almost the same day. Firstly I have inspired Twin Pistols to start her own creative writing blog to showcase their work, and I have also won an award from Nosjunkie. I was grinning for about an hour after finding out, since this is a first for me. I particularly appreciated the comment that reading my blog had apparently improved her sex life, though I must admit I am curious as to how. I will have to throw in a few more tips on sex in the future I suppose, considering the google searches that bring people here and this particular comment.

Cocktail Party Planning

2007-10-29T09:43:00.000Z

I do not often plan or arrange parties. I have thrown some before, but it is usually a case of heading back after a night out to continue chatting, drinking and so on rather than an actual organised affair. So this is something new for me. On Friday I will be, for the first time, actually throwing a party deliberately, with forethought, planning, preparation and everything else.

In preparation for this momentuous occasion shopping has been performed. So far I have bought mixers, alcohol, bases and so on for the actual cocktails. I already have about £200 worth of cocktail making equipment ranging from shakers to a blender to bar spoons. Decorations still need to be bought or made, but that should not be too difficult as I do not plan to go over the top. A few skulls dotted around, maybe some paper chains.

There are some problems however. The first is that I still have no idea for a costume. My budget for the month is minimal, with all of the visiting and driving I have to do, so buying an expensive one is out. I need something simple and cheap suggested, and with my occasional insecurity attacks, not to mention the cold, I also need something that covers my body as much as a full set of clothes.

Second problem is that Miss Complicated may or may not be there, Sweetie may or may not be coming, and another girl who I will explain about shortly will be there.

Obviously if both Miss Complicated and Sweetie turn up I will be engaging in verbal gymnastics most of the night, possibly literal gymnastics if they manage to break the lock on my room and get to my weapons cabinet. Fortunately it seems much more likely that neither of them will make it.

The other girl is one I may need to come up with a nickname for. She has been having an on-off relationship with her boyfriend, gradually becoming more off than on. It seems that it has finally become fully off, at least for the next couple of weeks. She and I have talked in the past, though not seriously, but the main point of attraction for me is that some of my friends have said several times that she would be a perfect match for me, and that I would never get her.

Anyway, if anyone has any costume suggestions, decoration suggestions, food suggestions or anything else feel free to comment.

Oh, and if anyone wants to come along feel free to give me a yell. The only condition will be that you will be required to help restrain Sweetie should she turn up and meet Miss Complicated. It is not that I have lied to her, I have never told her that there is no one else in my life, or in my bed, and she has even given the impression that she accepts that. I just do not think the mix of coming face to face with bits of my life she does not need to ever know the details of and lots of alcohol is good for my health.

On Flirting and Seduction

2007-10-28T09:14:00.000Z

Because of my reputation various friends occasionally ask me for advice on flirting, and similar methods used in order to woo people of the female, and occasionally male gender. The problem is that my flirtation is not a deliberate activity, it is just something that occurs when I am near people I want to flirt with. However I am not stopped so easily, and so I am going to go over past relationships and try to work out how I got into them.

Sweetie, I started talking to her over the internet just as a friendly thing, and found myself flirting with her. Not seriously so as she had a boyfriend, but in the casual, friendly manner I do with anyone. This eventually progressed to a pleasant friendship, and then one night she called in tears due to a relationship crisis. So I arranged to go down the next day to just give her a day out of the house and take her mind off it.

Nothing was ever really discussed, but somehow during the middle of watching a cheap zombie film and laughing at the bad special effects we ended up kissing. I believe the progression went from me giving her a hug, and not letting go, to my fingers trailing back and forth on her arms, sides and legs, to leaning together, to kissing. Things continued from there fairly rapidly and kissing evolved into mindless, angry rebound sex, which was fun for all concerned even if my knees still bear slight scars from carpet burn.

Things with Miss Complicated were actually simpler, at least on the physical side. The first time we met we just chatted for a while, until we were back at the station and I was about to head off, while she was waiting for her taxi to arrive. I decided, and I should add that I was completely sober at this point, that I wanted to kiss her. I went for the simple approach. I grabbed her, and kissed her, just lightly. One of those polite kisses that is definitely not simply friendly, but does not probe too much or become aggressive. Again, the kissing simply progressed from there.

As I have mentioned Affair is an ex-girlfriend of mine. Originally she was intended to be just a friend, but when I went to actually see her in person for the first time she answered the door to her parent's house in a very see-through dressing gown, which made it quite blatant there was nothing underneath. We ended up fucking on the rug in the hallway, then again on the stairs, and the landing, in the shower, over the kitchen counter, on the kitchen table, and so on. That was all the first time we met.

What I do not know if is this sort of thing is typical or not. I have always assumed it is fairly normal to end up having rampant, passionate sex on first meeting someone if you find each other mutually attractive. My friends assure me that it is not. I have also had ex-girlfriends say that they do not know what came over them while they were with me, and in some cases they claim not to know what came over them when they meet me after a break-up. Usually this is after either having sex or performing some sort of sexual service for me.

I have also been told in the past that I am easy to fall in love or lust with, and this I really do not understand. At best I could be considered slightly above average in looks, at worst a long way below. So either I have some sort of aura of sex, or there is some trick to sleeping with people which I have subconsciously discovered and which could earn me an absolute fortune if I ever realise what it is.

On another note, I updated my library with another story yesterday. This one's a bit more adult than the first two. I'm planning to do three normal stories each month, all being put up on Saturdays, and one adult one on the last Saturday of each month. Go and give me feedback, I live for comments and feedback.

Beautiful, Pretty, Gorgeous, Stunning, Cute and More

2007-10-26T18:47:00.000+01:00

I have a theory.

This theory relates to words and the way they taste, or feel, or smell.

Some people tell me that I can use words well, and I suppose that is fairly true.

For example I know that if I happen to write out a sentence in a certain way, even if it does not make sense, say 'fingers stroking, touching, tickling, lips pressing, kissing, sucking, tongue tasting, licking, flicking, explosion of white, bursting over mouth and hands, ouring down skin, dripping, sliding, oozing', that there are certain people who will find it a little more powerful than simple words should be. They will sit, squirming in their seats, wanting to bring their hands down, to touch themselves, tease themselves. The bit that I enjoy is that they will probably be reading this at or just before work. It gives me a certain little feeling of power.

Anyway this is more about words that carry a certain feel to them, particularly the more abstract or descriptive words.

The ones I really want to focus on are the compliments. Each one describes something different to me, kind of like foods, each delicious in its own way but with its own distinct, delicious taste. Like the difference between meringue and ice cream.

Alluring - You can try to ignore them, as you can try to ignore that faint, pleasant smell that you can just catch as you breathe in, the light scent of perfume in the air. But it will drag you to it, you just have to know exactly what it smells like, what it tastes like, how it feels. Even if you know that you will not be interested in it after you have tested it, that you will find it wanting, you still have to find out for yourself and you will do anything to do so.

Beautiful - This one always feels slightly odd to me, highly rare to actually find and seems to have as much in my mind to do with personality and the way people act as anything else. It is not even always a good thing. Usually I would say that beautiful is a word to describe someone who would be commonly found attractive, to both men and women. Not necessarily inspiring lust but definitely drawing forth some form of open-mouthed awe. The sound, the smell, the colour, all something slightly elusive and difficult to describe outside my own head.

Cute - Try and deny that cute is a pink word. A challenge for you. Cute definitely feels pink in my head, and it smells of strawberries and melting sweets. It also suggests innocence, though not necessarily an incorruptible innocence, more of a naiveity. Younger women and smaller women can be best described as 'cute', though anyone with some sort of childlike aspect whether behaviour or looks could justifiably be described with this particular term. While cute is always fun I find that it either tends not to last long around me, or becomes a little grating after too long a time. It is a little like eating candyfloss, and trying to tell yourself that you are still enjoying it when your hands are sticky and the light cotton is dissolving into a thick, sickly mess.

Foxy - Generally this would probably be considered fiery and sexual, but to be honest someone that I would describe as foxy tends to be someone that I think of as sexual in a very plain way. It is hard to work out exactly how to put what I mean, but someone I would describe as foxy would be unlikely to be someone I would consider adventurous in bed. Possibly a little cinammon flavour, interesting for a while but without much variety.

Gorgeous - This has to be my favourite. You can almost taste the word as you say it. This is not a word to describe frail, fragile, whispy little beings with their square, flat bodies that belong better flitting through forests with wings than in my bedroom (not that I will turn them away). This word is rich, filling, it rolls across the tongue as it is said and clings tightly to the person described by it, their curves must be anything but girl-like. A generous, smooth roundness must be obvious in them. When this sort of person wears a figure-hugging dress you can see it clinging to every spare line of them, any you can see the knowledge in their eyes that they know exactly what you and every other man ( or potentially woman) is thinking as they look at them. It tastes of bitter chocolate, rich and almost too thick to eat, with a heady scent of fresh-spilled sweet wine and dry, burning flower petals.

Pretty - I would prefer to use pink again for this, but cute is definitely a pinker term than pretty. Pretty is so much more innocent. With cute there can be the implication of mischief, of first, fumbling, clumsy sex, or of a fake innocence that melts away along with clothes. Pretty though is exactly that, the innocence it implies is fixed. This is someone who is nice to look at, but they will not learn, they will not willingly fumble, it is hard even to picture them in such a way. There is no taste with this word, and the only scent is fresh, clean air, maybe cut grass.

Stunning - Shocking, as it should be. An electric term, the type of person who can be described as stunning is exactly that. This is the one who, whether they are your type or not, make you stop thinking for a moment and just look. It is like the shower suddenly spraying cold for a moment, taking your breath away and tearing your mind from your thoughts. They are not necessarily attractive, but there is just something about them, whether it be how they act, how they look, anything, it just drags your attention to them and holds you there for a few seconds. The taste is metal, heated metal in the air with its sharp bite at the tip of the tongue.

Twisted Little Trophy Cabinet

2007-10-25T18:24:00.000+01:00

Firstly I want to clarify that this little selection of trophies, a few of which I am going to let you all see, was not gathered deliberately. It just seems that when various people of the female persuasion visit me they either bring some sort of gift, or leave things behind. Often this is not deliberate, but those things keep on being forgotten, so I generally throw them into a lost property box.

That sounds a little odd I know. But the last thing someone needs to find in the middle of sex is another girl's underwear, or something else along those lines. And because the stuff is kept in this box it is often never collected, since the box is kept carefully locked, it tends to accumulate. I suppose eventually I just started to think of it as a collection of momentos, kind of like a photo album. Yes, there is a photo album in there. No, you cannot see it. Not unless you are visiting in person and give me a very good reason.

But because people have mentioned that I seem to be drifting more and more towards the sad blogger state, I thought I might include some of my memories and the things linked to them. So first we have the Book. This was my first gift from a female, at least the first from someone I was intimate with. It also doubles as my photo album. I know I said you could not see it, but you cannot see inside it. How does that sound instead? It became a photo album, or rather an intimate memories book, at her own request before things went bad. Lots of very fond memories in here, and not just of her.

A classic trophy of course, underwear. Before it goes in the box it is always washed, I have no interest in the dirty underwear thing, but what else am I meant to do when people leave it behind? Throw it away. I chuck it in the wash, then into the box it goes. Simple as that. No, I do not take it out and smell it or play with it or anything like that. I barely remember whose is whose except in the cases where they wrote their names in and asked me to keep them. In fact if anyone wants to buy any, I am sure we could work something out. I need the money.

I have about four lighters, mainly zippos though this one is actually a British make. One of them was left behind here and I did not see the girl again. The other three were gifts, though this is the one I actually use and my favourite. Nicely engraved with the name that most people use for me, guess it if you can. On a related note I also have a couple of cigarette cases which are kept in there, and one which I carry with me when I'm going through a smoking phase.

This little thing was left behind by a rather curvy goth girl I brought home one night. She had several of them, and this one was sharpened. That was a very interesting night, and I still have a few scars from it. These are the good type of scars, not the bad kind, and everyone had good, safe, messy fun.

Handcuffs are yet another cliche, but fun all the same. I actually prefer a good pair of leather handcuffs or restraints to this cheap metal kind, so when I got bought some better toys then the older ones get chucked into the box or given away as presents. If I remember correctly these ones were bought by one of the people I lived with at university. If this is the right pair then some of you will probably want to know that yes, I did spend a night in these at the mercy of those I was living with. However most of you probably are not interested in that.

This is exactly what it looks like, a cigar in a cigar case. It was bought for me when someone found out that I was due to be an uncle, and I was under orders to smoke it on the birth date. As it happened I completely forgot in the madness around then, though I will use it at some point, but the cigar case has been much used and abused since it was bought for me. The stuffed toy opposite was made for me by a recent girlfriend. A lovely girl who I am still friends with, though with no benefits attached. As a moment of smugness she is now busily advancing her modelling career, and was quite possibly the most stunningly beautiful girl I have ever dated, or had in bed with me. There is no offense in that comment meant to anyone, but as the classical definition of the word beauty, she most certainly was. I will do a post explaining my definitions of words tomorrow I think. And the last picture was a recent present from one particular girl, Miss Complicated in fact, which she just thought I might like for Halloween.

American Integrity in Film-Making

2007-10-25T07:18:00.000+01:00

Recently I saw a film, The Dark is Rising. This is yet another film made in America and based on a British book.

Now the worst bit is I know that America is capable of doing these well. Take the Chronicles of Narnia for instant, a most excellent piece of cinema entertainment. So why do I feel such an urge to crucify the director of this new film? That may be a slight exaggeration. In fact I would simply like to beat him into a small bloody mess.

I have several grievances here. Firstly why is it so difficult to use the original concept from the book, that Will Staunton, and his family, were all British? Why do you have to instead arrange it, awkwardly, so that they have recently arrived from America where they have lived for generations. It is also quite obvious that your research never included visiting a British school, nor anything else requiring more than a ten second walk through London.

And why is it suddenly set in London?

Okay, I could have gritted my teeth and accepted that. I can put up with the massive nationalistic insecurity that drives directors to do these things.

But why throw in a love interest, and where the hell did the long-lost brother come from? Is there any particular reason that you invented these things, pulling your crap, stereotypical ideas from thin air? Any reason at all? Anything? Thought not. Maybe the original storyline is just too complex for your nursery-level mind to handle Mr Director. Maybe you should stick to making more American style films, such as Home Alone. That seems about your level. You could not seem to handle the idea of your hero having equally powerful peers, so instead you make him some sort of unique super-being, rising above the others and struggling to control his rage and angst as his powers blossom. Great story-telling there. So much better than just leaving him to focus on a world-wide struggle against the Dark which his side are doomed to lose if he is unable to find the signs. Gotta throw in the angst, have him blow up a few cars, go on, have fun.

Finally the biggest travesty of all. This is one book in a sequence called the Dark is Rising. All of these books pull in huge amounts of Celtic mythology, Arthurian legends and so on.

All of this is taken out. I suppose because any sort of history or mythology would either confuse the American audience, or offend the religious among them.

Mr Director, I have to say, you have managed to fail and dissappoint me even more than Spielberg.

Now a quick end-note to this. Some people have mentioned my blog is getting a little sad at the moment so I am asking anyone with a happy, silly, or any other idea for me to blog about to e-mail it to me. I am going through a bit of a mental block phase at the moment. I do not actually feel unhappy, but all I can think of to post about this week is my past, and frankly most of the stuff that has happened to me in the past is fairly miserable.

Another Little Piece of History

2007-10-24T11:33:00.000+01:00

I have decided to post a little more about my past, going further back now. In a way this was how things started. I apologise for the depressing tone, and content of this post, but it is an event that is very closely connected to who I am now. It may or may not explain a lot to people, I honestly do not know, but it is something that happened to me.

Let us go back in time, to meet a very insecure, very lonely boy aged fifteen. Just starting to study for his GCSEs, never had a real girlfriend, and with no actual friends. The closest he has are a couple of people who will talk to him. Of course they join in with the standard bullying he suffers, but they at least talk to him pleasantly enough when there is no one else around.
This boy has decided, on this particular day, to go up to London purely in order to have something to do. Just for once he is doing something for himself, other than simply sitting at home and teaching himself how to touch-type, program, and in other ways make a computer sit up and beg on command. He is not going to spend the day reading, as he usually does, he is actually going to get out for once and see what happens.

So he gets to the train station, and gets on the train, and starts talking to the passenger seated next to him. She gives him her name, and they chat for a few minutes, seemingly just clicking with one another. They decide to spend the day together and do so.

In fact they also end up returning to his house afterwards, since his parents are away for business and they got on so well. It is not as if he particularly cares about school the next day, nor as though she does. They walk back from the train station holding hands, pausing occasionally to exchange nervous, first kisses. She is the same age as him, and their conversation has revealed that they are both virgins though she is on the pill for other reasons, related to her hormone balance.

They stop on the way back, taking a detour through an old graveyard. It is dark and both of them are enjoying it, their hands roaming a little more than they perhaps should. Then things start to happen.

Afterwards they are both sore, not from the sex as such but from what accompanied it. Both of them releasing their anger about the world on each other, enjoying the feelings of violence and pain that accompanies the pleasure, somehow fitting. Their clothes are largely torn, or scattered over the ground, but she finds his shirt and pulls it on. The shirt is just long enough that she looks dressed. He hunts down his trousers and pulls them on, even though the zip is broken. And together, limping a little, nursing various cuts and bruises, bites and scratches, they walk back to his house.

Four more times that night they have sex, discovering all sorts of things. After the first time they are gentle and the sex is accompanied by winces and yelps as their sore bodies press together. They cry, they hold each other, they rant against the world, they say all sorts of things that both mean for the moment but which may mean nothing in a day.

For four months this continues. They see each other, she introduces him to her friends and to what they call their coven. They begin to meet more regularly, him slipping out to go up to London and making sure he is up before dawn so that no one in his house knows.

This is his little secret, things do not hurt so much at school any more, the bullies begin to avoid him when he not only ignores their verbal jabs but also their blows. Standing up after being hit and not showing the slightest sign of pain or even upset.

Her friends, and she, are teaching him about things. All sorts of things. What bodies can do to one another, about their beliefs and the things they can do with those beliefs. Some of those still stay with him to this day though in altered form.

And then after the fourth month, he suddenly stops hearing from them. Any of them.
A few days later he receives a letter. When he opens it he realises almost immediately what it is, though his first thought is wrong. He thinks it is just a goodbye letter, and in a way it is. The girl has said goodbye to everything, for reasons that he can understand. He has no wish to follow, despite the fact that his heart feels broken, and for a long time he becomes little more than a hollow shell, or so he feels, going through life and just trying to get by. He has no interest in anything other than getting through to the next day and hoping it will hold something that will bring him out of his fugue.

Years later he realises that he has healed, put himself back together and recovered from the hurt he received, though changed for the experience. He still has the scars she left him with, physical and emotional, but they are just scars now rather than open wounds and he can carry on. It took learning to hate someone he once loved, being abused, being homeless, and various other tragedies to do it but now he is able to deal with things again and he turns the tables.

Bloody Annoying Complications

2007-10-23T19:00:00.000+01:00

Bloody bastard fucking annoying inconvenient pissing emotions!

I really need less of these. Please excuse the language.

So Miss Complicated, who I have obviously mentioned before, is now pouring out her worries and woes upon me. She is, as I have said, funny, cute, witty, intelligent, and generally my type. She is also the only person I have ever found who can engage me in a geniune debate about politics. This is actually an important skill for someone to have.

The problem is that all of her worries and woes are pretty much identical to the ones I had at her age. Seriously, this girl looks like she might actually be turning out the same way I did except as a female equivalent.

For anyone wondering this is a bad thing^TM. Anyone questioning this would best be informed that I have grown into a person with massive, massive phobias of commitment and being alone, not to mention all sorts of other quirks and personality traits which I would be much better off without.

Unfortunately I remember being at the same stage as she is, and someone trying to do for me exactly what I am trying to do for her. It failed miserably, and this is going the same way. Have to make an effort though.

So to summarise, at the moment I am highly messed up due to having actual feelings for Miss Complicated, which I am sure are due to her unnattainability. I need a simpler life.

Reluctantly Returning to Work

2007-10-23T07:23:00.000+01:00

I really do hate this.

To clarify for those at different areas of the globe. Because of the shortening days it now means that I actually have to get up for work while it is still dark. I will also be returning from work as it gets dark again. No wonder people get depressed during winter.

There is some good news though, Sweetie made it down to visit Sunday evening, and left on Monday evening. Fun was had all round, from about ten minutes after I met her and we dodged into a hedge on the way home, to a little while before I dropped her off and she was toying with me in the car. Oh, and for one particular person who knows who they are, I did think of you.
My schedule for Monday was rather relaxed, involving occasionally leaving the bed in order to put on a different DVD and the occasional exhausted period of restful slumber. It was a good day. Today is not such a good day.

Other news involves me having booked plane tickets to Ireland for the last week in November, so I am off out there to see Slave then. Definitely looking forward to my week of illicit indulgence and experimentation. Doubtless there are some people who will not approve, but frankly if you really had an objection to my lack of morals I would have thought you would either have let me know by now or stopped reading.

Next month is going to be interesting budget-wise. Trying to live a decent lifestyle on half normal wages. I have a flight and holiday to pay for, a party to organise and at least partly pay for, an event to go to, rent to pay, bills to pay, and general living to do. Here is hoping I hear back from one of the full-time places I have applied to sooner rather than

On Close Runs and the Arrival of Sweetie

2007-10-21T18:25:00.000+01:00

She is due in about an hour. I suppose I should be off soon to meet her at the station, but it is warm in bed here, and cold outside. On top of that I only got in a little while ago from the anime convention where I had a rather close run.

At these conventions it is rather common for people to walk around with free hug signs. They mean exactly what they say. You can walk up to these people, ask for a hug and get one. On occasion I do this, particularly with people who are squishy in the right places.

After a minor duel in the middle of the convention with someone I got rather suddenly glomped by someone wearing one of these signs, a rather nice someone. Apparently one of my friends had told her that I needed a hug, and she had decided a glomp was more in order. For anyone who does not know what a glomp is, it is a hug with a runup, and usually involving wrapping the legs around the waist.

This caught me somewhat by suprise, but she was cute, felt nice, and had just the right amount of squishiness. In fact enough of the right amount that I asked if I could steal her. With an affirmative answer I started to carry her, still clinging to me, out of the convention and to somewhere quieter so we could get better acquainted.

Then a little voice whispered in my ear.

Not my conscience or any crap like that. My friend whispered to me 'she's fourteen'.

I hate that bastard.

And I have just found out some very good news. Apparently my divorce is actually through. Not that I plan to get remarried, but the psychotic abusive bitch is now completely severed from me and none of my responsibility.

Plus I have a fresh bottle of Brazilian tequila. Life is good.

Of Drama, Conventions and Splitting Headaches

2007-10-20T20:10:00.000+01:00

Before I say anything else, am I the only person not watching the rugby or something?

I will get the drama out of the way now, since that is probably what has given me this bloody headache. It is not even my drama, but it seems that sleeping with me makes people assume that they are entitled to free emotional support and comfort.

Okay, they may have a point, but it still annoys me. Callous I know but I have my own worries to deal with.

Sweetie is not completely happy with her home life. I do not want to go into too much detail in case she ever finds this, but basically something dramatic happened. This then meant that I had to provide comfort and support, which I do not have a real problem with.

What was a problem was thinking, throughout this conversation that she was going to ask to move in with me. Let me explain a little, I have lived with quite a few people. It has never worked out well. I am not comfortable with people prying into my life that much. I do not like sharing my space, and at the moment it really is my space. Fortunately she did not ask, and she is still coming over tomorrow to cheer herself up.

As to the convention in the title, I am off to play with an anime convention up in London before Sweetie gets here tomorrow. I was not given much choice in this matter, though I managed to talk my way out of a uniform, and it will at least be nice to get out of the house on someone else's cash for once.

Enjoy the rugby kiddies, and spare a thought for those of us who cannot go out to enjoy it due to splitting headaches keeping us in bed.

Everyone Has Problems

2007-10-19T16:30:00.000+01:00

So we can quite happily say that everyone has problems, either their own fault other people's, and a multitude of them. At the moment most of mine are fairly basic, and are ones I am trying to fix. There is the fact that I am currently ill, which is improving anyway. There is the fact that I hate my job and do not get paid nearly enough, but I have a lot of application forms and CVs floating around out there to apply to new ones.

Most of the others are not as easily solved. Baby is currently slightly ill, and so screams even more than usual. This is a little annoying to say the least. Very little sleep because of that, although at least I can talk to people while I am waiting for the little brat to actually get to sleep. So thanks to people who talk back to me, you are helping to keep my sanity intact.

Next problem is Stalker again. I actually had to speak with her today, on the phone, for about half an hour. This was after five phone calls which my sister answered and simply hung up on, before she finally got fed up and brought the phone to me. I told Stalker in no uncertain terms to stop phoning before I had to call the police. Her reply was that if I did not speak to her then she would be turning up on my doorstep.

If it was my own place I was living in, on my own, I would not mind this. Unfortunately she is not mentally stable, quite obviously, and I do not feel comfortable with her being within fifty miles of my nephew. So I spoke to her. Or rather I listened while she unloaded all of her little insecurities, whines, confessions of undying love and so on at me. After listening to her rather poor attempts at emotional blackmail for a half-hour, I finally gave up and simply hung up the phone.

Another is that I have decided I am stunningly bad at relationships, due to being an uncontrollable flirt. I honestly cannot help it. If I find someone attractive, for whatever reason, I flirt with them. I will not flirt with anyone I do not like, so at least there are limits, but other than that I can and will flirt with absolutely everyone. This causes a mixture of things, firstly serious insecurity for anyone I happen to try and have an actual relationship with. Secondly it can really cause people the wrong idea if all I am interested in is flirting, though I do not believe that has ever actually ended up as a problem. Thirdly I have had a lot of trouble with friends develop because of it, until they get to know me. Once people know me I can get away with anything. Before people realise that I am actually quite harmless, problems can happen.

And last is my problem with being judged. I often say that I do not care about being judged. That is not quite true. I refuse to feel bad when people judge me in some way, but what I have discovered, or realised, does happen is that I will deliberately go out of my way to offend people who judge me in some way. If they tell me that something I could do is wrong I will set out actively to do it. It does not matter what it is, how dangerous it might be, how much I may dislike the idea, I will almost always try to spoil people's opinions of me even more than they were beforehand.

I suppose there is an advantage though. I really can get away with almost anything once people know me. It seems that friends just accept anything I say, people who would snarl at anyone who so much as winked at their girlfriend do not object when I start spanking them in the middle of the pub, nor do they object when it is done to them. I have no idea what I would have to do to actually offend any of the people who know me well.

Writing, Talking and Kinks

2007-10-19T11:37:00.000+01:00

First of all someone has suggested I can not write a clean story. I have decided to take this as a challenge, and have started putting up some of my old work and some of my new writings on another blog. I have not decided whether I will do this on a weekly basis, monthly, or just at random, but I have a large stockpile of stories to put up there and I am still writing more.

Recent conversations have made me think about the power words can have over people, not all people but some. For example I have discovered that Sweetie can be reduced to near-incoherent moans through application of the right words over the phone, and can be aroused simply by the right text message.

Apparently the best time to do this is not when she is on lunch break from work. I may pay for that this weekend.

This is only a moderate form of the effect that words can have. It used to be thought that women were much more affected by writing, whereas men preferred visual imagery. This has turned out to be more culturally induced than anything else. In fact both men and women can be equally affected by visual or mental stimulation, and the extremes vary between finding it completely uninteresting, to being almost obscenely affected.

From what I have discovered though most women like at least some form of dirty talking, whether its having someone whisper in their ear 'I want to fuck you', or sweet, romantic nothings.

Yes I can do romantic. I just do not do it often.

I apologise for the amount of rambling. I feel a little drunk, I think its this flu.

Rejoining the Literati

2007-10-18T18:27:00.000+01:00

Between blogging again and having had the last few days off work, and a few e-mails I have received I have ended up writing again. I have even sent off a few entries to various writing competitions, though I do not know if I stand any chance of winning them or not. Unfortunately I am hitting my normal problem with any stories I try to do over a certain length, and hitting a block.

But I have discovered a new trick!

What I can do is get as far as I can in a story, then set up a picture that represents that scene to me. Suddenly I seem to be able to write again.

This did mean I had to set up a Scrabble board this morning, with a couple of wine glasses, an empty bottle of wine, and an ex's underwear. You can probably imagine what sort of story that was, but there are others I have been writing as well, more innocent ones.

Anyway Sweetie is coming over this Sunday, and staying until Monday, so I probably will not be posting from Sunday evening until Monday's, then I will spill whichever details I choose to.

I will probably be posting again later today, due mainly to boredom. I need things to do again.

So How Did I End Up Rampant?

2007-10-17T16:10:00.000+01:00

This is not an attempt at self-justification, I do not count any of these as reasons, or excuses, simply things that have led me to be the way I am. To be honest I do not even see any reason that I should justify myself, I do not feel I am doing anything wrong. Anyway moving on...

So this little story accounts the tragedy that was my marriage. Obviously it was my first marriage, and I do not know whether I am divorced now or not. That is another story which I have mentioned before.

I met the Ex-Wife while she was in England on a study exchange program from America, going to a University in London. We got together, and she lost her virginity to me shortly after I saved her life. That may take some explaining. The place she was living was a rented room in a house. The owners of the house at one point went on holiday, and their son decided to break into their house. I happened to be visiting at the time so when he came down with a carving knife to chase her out of the house, since it was 'his house' according to his drug-addled brain I managed to get in the way and take it away from him.

While I spent about ten minutes talking him down, keeping him pinned, she packed her stuff and loaded it into my car. After that she moved in.

Everything was fine for about nine months after that, and at Christmas I proposed. Three months later she had to go back to America for a year in order to finish her course, and we agreed that the wedding would be after she had finished her course, and that we would consider ourselves free agents until then. Yes, I know that is quite obviously a stupid idea, but at the time I did not realise.

During that year there were all sorts of indications that perhaps marriage was not for me, but my family and friends constantly told me how happy they were for me. Admittedly they did not know that during that year I paid my rent at university by being essentially a house-pet for the five student nurses my accomodation was shared with. Nor the other events that happened. The last indication I really should have picked up on was that on the flight over to America for my wedding, I ended up having sex with another passenger.

Unfortunately by this point everything had gathered a large momentum, and despite expressing a few doubts I could not get things post-poned, let alone cancelled, without just saying no. I did speak to her father about this, as I was staying with them, but he made it quite clear that I was going to marry his daughter. Or get shot. He even showed me the gun as he explained. You can imagine the sort of impression that had on me.

After the marriage, and a short honeymoon, we returned back to England. Since I was still a student and she was unemployed my parents had converted part of the house into a flat for the two of us. The idea was that she would be looking for a job, while I continued my studies.

Six months later I left University, in order to try and find a job since she had supposedly had no luck. She had also revealed that she was somewhat abusive, and I still have some scars from times when I would come home, see her on the computer, and suggest that maybe she should do the cooking for once, or maybe tidy up a little, or make a little more effort to look for a job.

Two months later I kicked her out after finding that about 200 application forms I had picked up for her over the last eight months had not been filled in, but had in fact been hidden under the bed. I found out a few weeks later that she had also been cheating on me, with at least two different people.

A little after that I found out that I owed £20 000 on credit cards that she had applied for in my name. I still do not really know what she spent the money on, though I did find some receipts that at least some of it was spent on her having very expensive meals out with another person.

I went a little loopy for a while after that. Went somewhat goth.

What Would You Do for Money?

2007-10-16T18:05:00.000+01:00

This post by chitty of the very good Riding The Slipstream is the inspiration for this post. Basically the actual list was something that was being discussed around a pub table a few months ago, and I was the only one who was actually honest about realistic prices, but there you go. Of course these are all circumstantial, depending on all sorts of things, including the person involved. Travel expenses are extra, obviously, and prices can and would vary hugely. This is just what came out of that pub discussion.

Erotic writing: £1 (per 250 words)
Kiss: £2.50 (price of a pint or shot)
Dirty talking: £5 (per thirty minutes I guess, plus price of call, variable)
'Making out': £5 (again, per thirty minutes or so, though I don't plan to use a stopwatch)
Manual sex: £10 (for a woman, probably double for a male)
Plain escort: £20 (so long as I'm not paying expenses)
Oral sex: £20 (for women, no idea for a male, I'd have to decide at the time)
Cook for a meal: £25 (plus ingredients of course)
Counselling: £30 (per hour most likely)
Massage: £40 (that's for a full, proper massage)
'Modelling': £50
Penetrative sex: £50 (again, women only, male would have to be decided at the time)
'Deflowering': £100 (simply because paying for that seems so strange, so whoever's doing it probably comes with problems)
Fight: £100 (depending on situation, obviously)
Organise and run a cocktail party: £200 (plus costs)
Butlering/waitering/similar: £250 (per day, but that includes dinner jacket rental)
Stripping: £500 (I'm crap at it, and find dancing in public hideously embarssing, just walking around naked at a party or something would be infinitely easier, so cheaper for fewer people, or if I'm not expected to dance)
Duel: £5 000 (more if actually to the death, and dependent on weapon)

Well, I think that covers everything that I can think of at the moment. Maybe I should get business cards printed up.

Though I will point out that this is not, nor is it meant to appear to be in any way, my profession. I doubt I could make enough money off it if it was. Its just an estimate, in the same sort of feel as the 'what would you do for £1 000 000?' question.

That Morning After Feeling

2007-10-16T10:15:00.000+01:00

I have just got out of a steaming hot shower, hot enough to be borderline scalding, with every single water jet out of the eight switched on and all set to high pressure. I love this house. I needed the shower, having walked Sweetie back to the station this morning, through the pouring rain. She looks good in white, especially when its wet, better when its dishevelled having just slipped into a garden en route to the station, in the rain. She'll probably get some odd looks on her way home That girl has a very enthusiastic tongue, soaked and with a few grass stains, but I refuse to accept the blame.

I love this feeling, I could almost say it is what I live for, though that would be an exaggeration. It is certainly better than any drug I have ever tried. Its that feeling you get after lots of good sex, where your bones ache in that gentle, humming way, the handful of bruises and scratches throb slightly, not painfully, just a faint tingle over the general ache. That lovely fog settles into your mind for a while and you can drift away into a little word of smugness and satisfaction. And yes, smugness, there's no better food for the confidence or ego than seeing the effect that the things you can do have on someone.

Knowing that they simply cannot have enough, that they will continue touching you, tasting you, feeling you, whispering at you, until they honestly cannot any more. Knowing that the reason that person is lying there, nearly biting through her sleeve, in a stranger's garden outside their deserted house, their body rising and falling madly as they scream into the rain, is because you have learned their body well enough that you know exactly how they will react when you put your mouth just there, and your tongue just there, and move it just right.

Obviously I have called in sick to work today, despite a certain someone's attempts to distract me while I was on the phone. She does have a very enthusiastic tongue. I am just hoping that my boss does not have any suspicions, because he is the sort who would ask.

The bruises might be difficult to explain as well. I may have to wear my hair down tomorrow, although that brings its own set of problems. Either that or I need to buy some concealer, and I would not even know where to start.

On a similar topic I have to say I have always been incredibly bad at keeping secrets when strangers ask me. I am the type who will tell people what they are getting for Christmas if they ask, though if I am not asked then usually I am fine. Unfortunately angel has asked me what it is that Sweetie does to leave me shivering, and one thing I have really never been able to resist is a pretty woman, as you may have guessed.

Anyway angel, in case you want to add this to your repertoire I cannot tell you if it will work on other people. It is actually very easy. When I am relaxed, all it takes to turn me into a quivering, moaning mass is such things as very light, stroking touches on almost any part of my body, arms, legs, face, chest, back, anywhere. All that is needed, is for the touches to be very, very light. After a few minutes I am literally helpless, barely able to move and certainly unable to think.

Another trick she has picked up about me is biting various places. Not light little nips, real, solid bites. She caught me by suprise with one of these during our first shower this morning, and I nearly knocked myself unconscious when my knees gave way as she did it and I ended up curled up on the shower floor for about a minute before I could stagger back to my feet. Actually this is something of an open secret, a lot of my friends know about it, and some of them take great delight, when they are bored, in grabbing my arms and biting the forearms to watch my eyes roll back in my head as I either fall over, or slowly slither off my chair.

That is all I am going to say for now, and it is more than I intended to say. Anything else is going to have to wait until I start to babble again, cannot think of another topic for a post, or get asked again.

Now That Was a Fun Evening

2007-10-15T23:50:00.001+01:00

Not amazingly energetic I must admit, but fun all the same. I spent the evening with Sweetie. Dinner and it was supposed to be a film afterwards, but we got a little distracted. I will say this for her, she makes the most delicious noises during sex, not to mention that she is somewhat insatiable. Three hour-long sessions in six hours, with the first hour taken up by food and the breaks filled in with post-play and vague watchings of Family Guy. She is still here now, fast asleep and curled up warm and snug next to me.

As much as I love kinkier forms of sex, every now and then a little vanilla is wonderful. Plus she has this wonderful fascination with rendering me into a shuddering, moaning mass on the bed between full sex. I should mention that I am rather hypersensitive, and she quickly learned exactly what can render me helpless and quivering.

I am actually tempted to call in sick to work tomorrow, I am looking for a new job anyway so I do not see why I should show them any loyalty. It is not as if they have ever shown me any, and wolf-whistles are starting to get on my nerves. I will explain that in a second.

Something scary did happen tonight though. I opened my laptop and saw that Stalker had left me an offline message. Well, about twelve offline messages. Here is one of them reproduced:

"want u 2 tie me 2 the bed 4 a day, and come in and fuck me whenever u want while anyone who wants watches us on camera"

This is after I have sent her yet another message today saying that I want nothing to do with her. Literally that. For fuck's sake, this is getting ridiculous.

Anyway having Sweetie lying naked next to me like this has made me feel frisky again, so I think I will wake her up for some more entertainment.

The Last One for now

2007-10-15T17:36:00.001+01:00

There's one more girl who deserves to be in the cast, though I should point out now that just because the cast of sexual interests is complete I will still be gradually adding my family and friends as they justify it. I also have plans which should be announced in this post as well.

The last girl who has earned her place in the cast is yet another ex-girlfriend. Yes, I know I have too many. I have got a count of them, and I think the number demonstrates my incapability to stay in or keep a relationship. Moving on from that though, I am not quite sure what nickname to ascribe to this girl as she is another version of the Tart. In fact she is another version of the Tart in very many ways. I believe that the term BedBuddy will do, until I can think of something else.

Anyway the BedBuddy got in touch recently, in essence to assure me that she was indeed interested in intimate, but unemotional, activities with myself. Since then she has been trying to get me to ask her to move in with me, since she has no job, no house, and a severe nicotine habit to feed. My refusal has so far not gone down well with her, but she seems to have accepted it for the time being.

Incidentally other nickname suggestions for this one would be appreciated, I was thinking Leech, but I might have to save that one for when a true Leech comes along.

Now we can introduce a member of the cast who is not a potential bedroom partner in any way whatsoever. I just want to clarify that first, you will understand why shortly.

This new member is the Baby. Due to various circumstances I currently share a habitation with the majority of my family, hence the fact that I am looking for a new job. Sadly this does also mean that I am sharing my abode with my sister, her yuppie boyfriend, and their new baby.

Their new, loud baby.

Their new, loud baby who likes to be fed at night.

Their new, loud baby who communicates this fact by screaming at the top of his lungs until the whole house are awake.

I am introducing him because he really is a complication. I love the little parasite to pieces, I really do, but I do not react in the same entranced manner as every one else in this madhouse. Instead of being fascinated by the fact that he has just filled his nappy with human excrement I am repelled. I nearly had to break up a fight yesterday between my sister and my mother over who was going to change the nappy, they both wanted to do it.

I swear this place is insane.

Anyone looking for a live-in servant/sex-toy? I can cook, clean, scrub and so on. Just get me out of here.

And finally to the plans. At the end of November I will be absconding to a far, foreign country (okay, Ireland), in order to indulge myself in a week of illegal excess, indulgence and depravity with Slave. All I need now is to actually buy the tickets for the flight and get myself over there.

The One Who Scares Me

2007-10-15T11:45:00.000+01:00

Just over a year ago I became involved with someone, for about two weeks. During that time they somehow developed the impression that I was the only person in their life who cared about them, was the perfect man, and would be with them forever.

Now admittedly I cannot argue with the perfect man aspect of that particular belief, purely because my simulated ego would fail instantly were I to do so. However being with them forever was definitely not on the cards at the time. I was quite blunt about the fact that the whole affair was just a fling, I even told her that I was only sleeping at her house because it was conveniently placed between the two habitations I was moving all of my belongings between, and it was a long trip from which I needed a break. At the time this all seemed acceptable to her, and then she uttered those terrifying words. 'I love you.'

I should point out now that I have no particular fear of commitment, other than the perfectly rational fear induced by my marriage. At least in general I have no fear of commitment. When its with someone that I know I have no real interest in continuing things with, my fear is legendary. Not only that but my view of love is very different and very much more flexible to the standard view.

Either way my response was sensible, reasonable and rational. I got out of bed, without a word, pulled on what clothes I could find, said 'I'll see you later' and left.

The plan was that she would understand this as the message for 'you crazy bitch, that was the wrong thing to say, leave me alone now'.

She did not understand this message.

I have had to sever contacts with friends, change my phone number, change my e-mail address, remove my profile from certain social sites, and yet she has still managed to find me. Now I have just given up. If I at least talk to her then maybe she will eventually get the message into her delusional little brain. That seems to be the only option until I can afford to change my address. Maybe I should look into moving abroad.

And thus, the Stalker has entered our scene.

Requirements to Join the Cast

2007-10-14T20:14:00.000+01:00

Since someone has now asked I feel it is only reasonable to describe what the requirements to be a member of the cast are.

Essentially people who are mentioned are people who I care about, not necessarily people I have slept with, and who complicate my life by the simple matter of their very existence. Only the ones considered immediate problems are included, so there may at some point be friends included as well, but at the moment friends are not complicating things for me.

The only people who will not be added are family.

Anyway, just to add a touch of vague relevance to this, I heard today that my ex-wife has remarried.

The reason this amuses me is that we still have not had a divorce, so she is now committing bigamy. I love when I have the opportunity to make bad things happen to people I do not like.

Of the Tart and Perversity

2007-10-14T11:24:00.000+01:00

This is not a family-friendly post!

Okay, now that's out of the way I want to get a few events out of the way first. To begin with last night was an okay night, despite arseholes trying to talk to me. The only other slight problem with it was the kidnap attempt. A hen party offered me a bottle of (very cheap) wine, and £50 to be their stripper. Needless to say as it was freezing cold and they wanted it done there and then, I refused. I'm not stripping in a pub garden for that small an offer. This was deemed rude, so I then ended up handcuffed to the bride for half an hour before I managed to pick the lock on the handcuffs and escape back to my much-amused bastard friends.

Also last night a potential fifth member was added to our little cast, and a possible sixth. Number five is not really in need of a name yet but I thought she should be mentioned. Number six will henceforth be known as the Affair. I should point out now that this is not because I am having, or have had an affair with her. She is an ex of mine, an absolutely, stunningly gorgeous, fantastic in bed, kinky, exhibitionistic ex. I still kick myself for having severed that particular relationship, even if I did have problems with her personality, I could always have trained her but there you go.

Moving on again we come to the main point of this post, the Tart has simplified things for me somewhat. All she is offering is sex, and her own humiliation, because she has needs to fill and I am the most 'depraved fucker', to use her own phrase, that she knows who she would feel safe with. I am not sure whether to be flattered or insulted, but either way it means that I have a submissive who will do pretty much anything I tell her, including taking photos and recording it for me, and who is shortly coming to my town in order to visit old friends. During this time the general plan, at least the one she is planning, is for lots of sex to happen in various different places, and for her to be temporarily enslaved and humiliated.

I can live with this. I also tried an experiment on her last night, and it has now given me some very interesting ideas involving pegs. There is something about watching a young, rather pretty girl thrashing about helplessly on her bed because she has been following your orders.

The Cast of this Little Melodrama

2007-10-13T18:50:00.000+01:00

This is basically going to be the story of me, and the various relationships which seem to make their way into and out of my life on a regular basis. At the moment there are four relationships of a serious nature, so these are the four people who will get pseudonyms to start with. As others enter and leave the stage so they will be added and removed and even friends may get their own aliases should they become dramatic enough in some way.

Firstly we have the Tart. The Tart was someone whom I had a past relationship with, cohabitating even, until she revealed that she was psychotic and in serious need of therapy. After several attempted attacks upon my person I decided that enough was enough, and that she should be removed from my life. Since that time she has sought assistance with her various disorders, and resolved most of them. We have recently started talking again, and flirting, and as of a couple of nights ago she has started sending me home made pornographic material in the form of writings, pictures, and videos. The potential here seems to be for FiBs as neither herself nor myself have any interest in beginning an exclusive relationship with one another, but even at the worst of times the sex was great.

Secondly we have the Sweetie. The Sweetie is just that, very nice, very sweet, not my usual type but still attractive. She does not seem to have a particular interest in fetishism, outside of the average broad-mindedness, but she does have a nice healthy sex drive and gives fairly good blowjobs. The only problem is that I am actually worried about hurting her, emotionally that is. She is not as robust as the usual people I date, and she also seems the sort to fall in love easily.

On to number three now, the Slave. This one is rather self-explanatory and obvious. The disadvantage of the Slave is basically distance, but she has been asking to be collared by me, she has a complete lack of inhibitions, is highly masochistic and submissive, and would be a lot of fun. Problem as I said is distance, plus a few mental disorders which prevent certain things and might make life difficult. The Slave I should be visiting before the end of the year, so more detail will be available when I have actually met her in person and not simply seen her at the other end of a webcam and spoken with her on the phone.

Finally we have the worst one in a way, Miss Complicated. Miss Complicated is the one who appeals to me most of all, intelligent, funny, pretty. The problem is the complication. She is rather mixed up about certain things, disliking affection and intimacy unless she is in exactly the right mood, and emotional intimacy seems to be a great fear of hers. Obviously this gets a little irritating when I meet her, and talk with her, chatting about a range of things and then can not so much as stroke her arm without making her flinch. At other times its the opposite. She also swings between saying that she wants to be wanted, and being chatty and friendly, and again the complete opposite. Even though this is a stressful time for her, it makes me feel somewhat less than considerate.

So there you have the summary of the play of things at the moment. More detail will be following eventually but for now I am absconding to the nearest house of alocholic imbibement in order to get a drink and potentially find a few other names to add.