You stupid busybody cunt

Is this the super secret uber public diary journal you're talking about, Jess? Too bad you interpreted EVERYTHING the wrong way. What's that? Oh yeah, I never linked you to this! Hah! How curious.

I want to suck your cock messily, choke myself on it, drink your cum

Why do I want to suck cock so much more when I'm drunk? Why does silly, messy sex seem an unadulterated pleasure, instead of a task for which I must prime myself, and even then not reach full success? I can only conclude that sobriety itself is a form of intoxication. I sincerely don't want to get all Freudian in this bitch, with all that id/ego/superego bullshit. But I can surely say from experience that I have better sex when I'm drunk.

When I'm sober, there's a certain amount I cannot relax. I WANT to, god knows, but I can't. It's not that I won't, it is seriously that I can't. I have neuroses piled atop insecurities x10, so maybe this isn't surprising? I wish it were. (<-- lol english subjunctive yussss) Intoxication from alcohol has its own limits, so it's silly to depend on it (aside from the fact that I don't WANT to have to depend on it). I'm just WAAAY too guarded to fully give myself over to anyone in sobriety.

I imagine that making that choice would be that much more thrilling if I were.

:(

(It doesn't help that I am a kinky cunt and my bf is pretty vanilla. I mean he pulls my hair sometimes and holds my neck, but the very manner of his actions say "this is an effort for me". He is not a natural dom. Which is okay. I love him and have never been happier with anyone else.)

God has no soldiers.

Dear Tushar,

I wanted to write this to you last night when our discussion was fresh in my mind. Right now, I just have a sort of emotional state to go off of, not really a lot of specifics points to make, so please forgive me.

First off, I just want to clarify: I was wrong, and I'm sorry. If that wasn't clear before I want to make it clear now. In lieu of explanation, I'd like to offer (honestly) that I'm so used to being on my own, in private matters, that it's not yet second nature for me to think twice: Does this affect the other party involved? I am very open regarding some things (and closed in others); too open, some might opine; whatever the case might be, I am in many ways a solitary person and am accustomed to communicating with others suchly. It's bullish ignorance that made me act the way I did, so I'm sorry. I don't have much to offer in the way of Bolden, except that I was very drunk. Not a great excuse, as it both points out a symptom of a substance problem (changing personality under influence) AND shows thay my coping mechanisms for dealing with big, new cocks issues are haywire (more on that later).

Second point - I'm pretty damn grateful that you are (so far eehnnnhh) willing to not only put up with my shit, but educate me about it in a constructive way. I don't think I've ever genuinely wanted to please someone more than I want to please you. When you communicate something to me (and part of the reason I'm attracted to you is because of your honesty and lack of passive aggression), I take it seriously and try to learn from it. I know I am remedial-level in the subject of relationships, but I hope I'm proving to be an apt pupil.

Slightly relatedly, I'm still not sure how I feel about the actual act. Odd, I know; I was entreating you fairly often, and god knows I've wanted to do it for a long time. I just feel... fuck, the problem is that I don't know how I feel about it. For sure I feel much more changed than I did when I lost my va-jay-jay vir-gin-gin (but I didn't feel at all altered by that so the bar was not high). I think I might feel slightly "dirty", though I'm not sure. The actual act was, as I said, enjoyable. Anyhow, I'm still working through shit in my head about it. So how do you feel?

(Unrequited) Lurve,
Christina

I just had what I dearly hope is a false epiphany. I was watching the 2004 version of Peter Pan that my bizarre coworker lent me, and at the end when the children come back, the father greets them stiffly... but of course you know he's just slightly stunted: really he's ecstatic to have them back. Michael asks, "Did you miss us?" and then comes Mr. Darling's breakdown that of course he did miss them. What was unfortunate was that at that moment I suddenly remembered how my father left me behind a few towns over when I was about 11 and I wandered, sad and lost, for hours. This jarring memory combined with the grossly sentimental family reunion in the movie caused me to burst out crying, thinking over and over that my father doesn't love me. And this remained! Through the entire denouement I KEPT crying despite myself, halfway ignoring the entire resolution of the fucking thing. Now, I'm bothered twofold: (1) Yes yes, I know he loves me, and for years, he's evinced this in a much more meaningful way than my mother has (2) Why should I fucking care? If our "rapport" during my childhood convinced me he didn't, why would it bother me so much, why would it even be a revelation? HOW MANY PEOPLE LIVE WITH WORSE PAIN AUUGHGHGHH I can't stand feeling sorry for myself

But yeah I really hope "myfatherdoesntloveme myfatherdoesntloveme myfatherdoesntloveme" isn't a real epiphany. I just wish it didn't feel like it was. I have stifled my tears to that end (as you can tell from the fact that I'm now doing that "HPHPHP" thing every time I attempt to take a deep breath).

my dad doesn't love me ;_;

korean dog

Tonight I ate at the relatively new Korean restaurant down the street, "Ttowa." It was a place specializing in dumplings and it was SOOO good. From there, though, I got to looking at details about the history of Korean cuisine online, and of course I came across the consumption of dog. This issue is sensitive for me (cultural relativism) normally, but I'm drunk now, so every slight emotion takes on a maudlin turn. Not to discredit my actual emotions: I seriously cannot handle the concept of eating a dog. And that's not only because I love dogs with an unreasoning adoration; I mean I could never eat a cat either. But seriously, the idea of a dog being raised and slaughtered for human consumption? It makes <0 sense to me. (While we're on 'cultural relativism', this might be because Western society never eats a secondary consumer except if it's aquatic. Who knows.)

Anyway, of COURSE I started looking up the lives of Korean dogs (apparently there are pet breeds and a group designated for food; let's ignore that they're all actually the same species) and I DON'T FUCKING CARE THAT YOU WANT TO INTRODUCE LEGISLATION TO VIEW THEM AS LIVESTOCK AND THEREFORE ENSURE RIGOROUS INDUSTRY STANDARDS INSTEAD OF KILLING DOGS PEOPLE GOT SICK OF, I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO KILL AND EAT DOGS PLEASE I WILL BEG YOU. I'm sure to a horse-lover this is the same issue (tbh when I look at a horse I am astounded by the sentience and propensity for bonding, I'm just not personally familiar enough).

SO: I look up two terms, "nureongi" and "hwanggu"

Now I am absolutely sure that I want to, at some point, adopt a Korean puppy bound for slaughter. How fucking GAY is this sentiment, not only practically but emotionally? I'd just torture myself with thoughts of the ones I didn't "save." Anyway, the beautiful intelligence shown in these pups' eyes is causing me tremors, just like previous dog phases I have gone through (Irish Wolfhound, Carolina dog, etc.) but with more of the unhealthy petfinder.com mentality.

Also, I MIGHT be convinced that Chalie is part Jindo.

a word dump

from an old profile:

It may, after all, be the bad habit of creative talents to invest themselves in pathological extremes that yield remarkable insights but no durable way of life for those who cannot translate their psychic wounds into significant art or thought.
Theodore Roszak, "In Search of the Miraculous"

a story from work tonight i posted on /fb/'s wall:

This story is dedicated to Brand Cook.

This evening at work, I went to take my customary 15 minute break. After helping a bevy of customers that night, including a very smelly Bulgarian guy who tried to ask me out clubbing because we had spent twenty minutes talking about shittons of eletronic artists we knew/liked, two miniature people (they weren't midgets, they were just very small and with sped up sounding voices) who bought that Stone Cold Steve Austin action movie, and a friendly black guy who is mentally challenged and who huffs loudly while listening to music, I was going to relish those short 15 minutes of respite.

I grabbed my book (a short non-fiction work about sociopaths, which I spied on a display table and picked up because I'm fairly certain Willy Christie is at least partially sociopathic) and went to a quiet reading area in the store. I sat down opposite a Negro gentleman. After about three minutes of reading, two faggy emo-ish teenagers shuffled up, laughing stupidly about a book they had. I don't have anything against teenagers - I'll even sell foolish ones Fall Out Boy albums with a smile - but I HATE disruptive people. Anyway, they were guffawing and falling over one another - I actually gave them a longer glance than usual because I thought they might be gay - when the fat one said, "Move over, I wanna sit down and have it NOT be totally gay HURR HURRR."

Their book turned out to be something cleverly entitled "Pot Culture." So they sat together in the comfy chair, chuckling and talking with one another about their no doubt many and varied experiences with OMG WEED. "See that's the ettiquette" ... "Yeah I want to use a carb like that, next time I guess" ... "Oh dude it was so funny haha" ... "Yeah this one time we did this, and used vodka instead of water, it was sweet" ... At that last one I finally got fed up and said, "It's called a smoother when you do that." The Negro opposite me immediately let out a surprised laugh (WE MAY ASSUME HE TOO IS A TOTAL BADASS AND SMOKES MARIHUANA!), while the teenfags just stared at me not knowing how to react. I continued, "So if you guys want to go somewhere in the store where it's okay to have a conversation and not this quiet area, that would be awesome."

They got up, looking uncomfortable and unsure, and started walking away. Then the thin one made some courageous zing about the water I was drinking and had dripped on my shirt. Well fair's fair I guess, I let him have that one. The young Negro gent laughed again and made a remark indicating his surprise. I said, "Well I work here, so I guess I kind of feel entitled." He was like "Dang, remind me not to have a conversation around you," laughing. We went back to reading and I finished my break in peace. Then I went back to work and had an awesome conversation with my coworker about using lavender and rose flowers in desserts.

[fin]