Sanity is overrated!


November 2015

Sex, Suffering, and Blue-Collar Men…!

I admit it: I am a literature snob and I have lately become enamored of D.H. Lawrence’s sizzling prose.  The author’s descriptions of the male-female coital-connection is so sexy and smart that I cannot believe how well its steamy secrets have been kept in relative obscurity!   Reading Lawrence’s account of the clandestine relationship between Lady Chatterley and the gamekeeper, Mellors, is so hot that I had to take a moment to reflect upon its profound impact on my own respiration.  Lacking the sometimes excruciating detail of today’s prose, the author’s impact is attributed to what has not been communicated and is instead left to the reader’s imagination (and I am in complete possession of mine!) and this adds to its sensuous and steamy effect upon my pulse-rate, among other things!  Augmenting this reaction, the vision of a strong and assertive male who does not hesitate to take skillful charge in the pursuit of a pleasurable encounter, is itself a source of delectable excitement.  He is a man who, after all, knows how to work with his hands!

The fantasy of a man, like Mellors, is euphoric because he only wants what the woman has to offer in her physical body: a mutually shared experience of passionate pleasure and physical connection.   As a single woman, I sometimes just miss the feel of a naked, bare-chested embrace; humans were created for relationship and in this virtual-relationship age, the physical contact can be relegated to a less than deserved lower-placed ranking.  Lady Chatterley senses in Mellors the uncomplicated promises of physical pleasure that touch upon tenderness, tactile sensation, and dialog kept to a minimum…there is a lot to be said for a loss of words (no pun intended) and Mellors’ character accomplishes this feat with exceptionally powerful simplicity.  Intellectually, he is a man of the world and because he is content within himself, he is only in need of what he cannot supply: the flesh and passion of a woman.  The same is true of Lady Chatterley; she is educated and somewhat independent for her time.  Her husband is a gentleman, an intellectual, and he is very much impressed with his own smart circle of friends and their cerebral discourses and she has begun to tire of all of this loquacity and longs for pure, non-analytical touch.  Her life has become so complicated that she cannot enjoy the fulfillment of a basic human need without it being talked to death.

Words can serve the purpose of mental foreplay to stimulate and prep the soil for what is to be sown but they were never meant to be a replacement for true human contact.  The comparison between modern times and the era of Lady Chatterley’s Lover could not be more in contrast however, the same human frustrations of sex, intimacy, and need for genuine human connection, still persist.  This great piece of classic literature was written one hundred years ago but still remains relevant today.  To ingest this read in its fullness, is a pleasure that almost equals the intensity and climax of Lady Chatterley in the hands of her lover!

Reality: My Internal Fantasy

I have been emptied-out and I am dealing with a copious void.  This wasn’t without anticipation. However, no matter how prepared a person may be for the reappearance of the void, it still shocks the senses with its power to utterly zap the life, the excitement, and the energy right out of the soul.  I experienced a major life shift, at this time two years ago, when two of my dear friends committed suicide within days of each other; completely unrelated, the events of their passing felt like being thrown into space without oxygen.  Unable to write for a year, or more, I am now in the throws of some incredibly inspiring moments and I am feeling the catharsis of being able to write once again.  The space in which my friends occupied will never be filled again and it is not without some morbid reflection that I look back with those mother-f***ing “If Onlys” and then I have to put those thoughts away with every bit of will that I possess.

The power is in the present moment.  Life does not exist in the past and the events of that time are to remain within the construct of that never to be re-lived fragment.  So, what to do next?  I will put on my big-girl-panties and continue pressing one key after another until my fevered brain reaches a crescendo and eventually capitulates its written catharsis.  In other words, I am still working on Part Two of the “mysterious encounter” and have some ideas brewing and I will not disappoint.  I have been dealing with a sexual famine at this time and it has not been easy.  I have had to swallow that reality (metaphorically) with some brooding and short tempered outbursts but I have broken my fast and that is the important part.

No Wonder We Call Him “The Boss”…

“I get up in the evening

and I ain’t got nothin’ to say

I come home in the mornin’

I go to bed feelin’ the same way…

I ain’t nothin’ but tired

Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself

Hey there, baby

I could use just a little help

You can’t start a fire

without a spark

This gun’s for hire

Even if we’re just dancin’ in the dark…

Existential Exhibitionism

As an existentialist, I believe that the revealing of my private escapades and fantasies is very much like an exhibitionist revealing the parts of themselves that society has deemed…uh, inappropriate.  Instead of exposing my flesh for my own excitement, I expose my readers to my thoughts and fantasies.  I tickle the tongue of titillation and stroke the senses with descriptions and evoke self-created images that recall your experiences, but which are framed within mine.  I am painting the picture, but you are choosing the colors; I am teasing you out of the hallway of your own mind and tempting you to step inside and take a peek into the room where I exist.   Would you say that is accurate?

For example, picture a strikingly beautiful woman.  She turns heads wherever she goes; not because she is extraordinarily, physically perfect but because she carries herself with a sense of confidence and style.  Now picture this same sophisticated creature at a bistro, sitting down near enough for you to smell her perfume and see the naked sleekness of her legs.  You can almost imagine what that clean, polished skin must feel like if you were lightly stroking its bare smoothness with your fingertips.  Now imagine that she is wearing a very low-cut, form-fitting red sweater.  You run your eyes over her, you notice her shapeliness and the way that she sits with her back straight, her bare legs crossed, revealing a nice glimpse of her knees as they peek out beneath her tailored skirt.  You imagine her sitting there wearing a red bra and panties underneath; you are fairly certain that  she has noticed you and your eyes lingered upon one another for a second longer than is normally polite.  You feel your heart begin to race as she looks your way and holds you spellbound with her uninhibited gaze.  Without saying a word, she rises from the table next to yours and gives a glance to the dark corner where the powder room is located and then looks back at you.  She begins to walk away, her hips moving with a confident stride and you know that she knows you are watching.  She stops for a moment and looks over her shoulder; catching your eye,  you are aware that she wants you to follow her…you stand and instinctively lock onto the scent of her perfume, floating within its magnetizing pull.  You know what is about to happen and you can almost see her nakedness underneath and feel the wetness in her secret places…

To be continued…

I Can’t Get No Satisfaction…

Life got away from me this week.  I have been going mindlessly from one thing to another without purpose or intentional direction.  I have been hitting my college classes hard for the last three years and I will be finishing my degree in two weeks…and I’m nuts!  It is a paradox that man can endure until the end is in sight and then the transition to unbearable begins; this is precisely where I am and with two weeks left, it can’t come fast enough.  Speaking of which, I haven’t had any time for fun lately and I have some serious tension built up with no relief in sight!  I have had a couple of reliable FWBs but circumstances have left those avenues unavailable at the present moment and I am a hurtin’ unit!  Enough whining,  I will make it short and sweet and will have to make do with a gadget or two… how do I spell “relief”?       O-R-G-A-S-M!

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