Lately

Good days, bad moments. It used to be doing dishes I would cry. One week it has everything to do with the vortexes that suck me in: the German girl on the bus wearing eyeglasses - towards the end he suffered cataracts and so badly wanted the surgery; trying to explain to someone the trial of what I lived - a vision of his fragile bony body like a concentration camp victim; and always, always, always, the one-on-one conversation we had where I told him how much I loved his hands and knew he'd always be with me because we had lived so many lives before together and he whispered, "L... I love you, too."

It's 8.5 months sober now. I feel amazing, life is awesome. No shit. Through all this bullshit, sadness, depression, missing my father, worrying about my mom's drinking combined with Ambian, struggling to form a real relationship with my sister, working non-passionately, war, famine, pestilence and all of life's tragedies - I am sober. I am feeling it. I am living it. I am awake. I think that's the biggest thing. I am awake. And I am making choices. It's incredible, really. Painful, ugly sometimes, confusing a lot, but thoroughly better than how I had been living.

I don't crave booze, I crave cock. And the healthy brainwashing of AA has me turning my focus on my sexual proclivities. Is it a craving - a verifiable craving of the chemicals in my brain that want sex? Or, am I simply a woman with a healthy sex drive? Am I replacing something with all the cock? Am I seeking something that is void in me? Or, am I feeling the pressures of society - thinking I should settle down, have babies, partner up. Am I a bonobo by nature or is it another chemical imbalance?

There was the monthly screw with Joe Awesome from January to June. Then, I introduced a date with Chris Depressed that opened a door for possibilities. A desire put me out on Craigslist again and in touch with Carl the writer, who I've seen twice and enjoyed thoroughly. A random decision to say yes to Will Rooftop and 2 hours of incredible, exhibitionistic sex on his open air rooftop terrace and another date filled with brutally honest discussion that made me feel like I was on a date with a mirror.

I don't feel desperate, I feel hungry. I want to justify that I'm still date-able, attractive, together despite these 2 overlapping current-quilts of personality change and disorder. I feel shifts within. I want the libertine freedom and independence, but I miss the partner that sticks by my side through it all. I want to cook together (albeit, I'll wear a maid's apron and nothing else). I want to clean our place (with nipple clamps and a hood). I want to go to the movies and we plainly share popcorn. I want to cuddle and wake up hungry. I want to be there for the tragedies that shake a person's orientation - my old boss, after his parents died "It's very disorienting" a perfect description. And celebrate the hurdles and wins.

Carl said his (ex-)girlfriend (debatable at this point), 15 years his junior, doesn't want to take care of him when he's in diapers. I don't know that I do either, but I want to take care of someone when he's in diapers. I've done it. I've see it. I'm not afraid.

I want love.

Mad, passionate, life-filling, prick our fingers blood-brother/sister swearing, television watching boredom, soup making when we're sick, swinger party exploring, whole and entire trust foundation love.

Life is changing on me, in me.

Or is it the same fabric, different shade?

I am the whore evolving. I wonder about pregnancy, but turn away at the prospect of swearing allegiance for 18 years and 50 more on top.

.........

And then there's Salvador the cat. He's amazing. It's a lot of fun to have a lovable creature in my life. I think he likes it here with me. He seems to have missed me when I went to my mom's for a week. I had a friend stop in - the first sober share of my flat, the first lady friend to see my cave. He enjoyed the company, but I think he missed me. He's supposedly 27 pounds big - a large breed naturally and a bit over-juiced before I got him. We eat less together and we play with racing around the flat. He sits on my chest at night and we purr together. I wake up at 6am on a Saturday sneezing my eyes out, but allergy meds clear it all up. A small sacrifice, as I'm finding. Pets do matter. I'm starting to get it. He's pretty cool.

..........

I wouldn't know where to start at all, but I'm dreaming more and more of putting some kind of book together. I have no idea what the running theme is or how to connect it all. There are bits and pieces and some good stories. A book of short stories? Ala "Little Birds"? It seems like so much of a business, something I would have no idea how to navigate - and not sure I'd want to. I wish I could just ship all the notebooks and all the pages off to some super scribe. I've already written it - I don't want to re-live it again.

This is of late.

the bad daughter

Mum says tonight:
We had a good chemo visit-Dr N is great;our nurses super;we are irreverent;they brought a tiny tele for soccer; ran into friends at the shop. Dad mowed the yard; I loaded the truck.My friend going to Mass asked what prayer we'd like - I asked to make it a hard fight ,just not impossible. We are doing fine!

I feel tremendously guilty. Part of what I wanted from my exorcism. Let loose some long-held baggage.

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Dear DC dom, domme, and IlRe -

Domme, I'll wear the tight black summer dress (the one with zipper up the front?). I presume this means I'll have time to go home from work and change before meeting with you all? Or, I'll change upon arrival?

Thank you for giving me an overview of the possibilities for tomorrow night, and for the opportunity to share some thoughts prior to Tuesday. I've had a hard time not thinking about Tuesday, so my mind and imagination have whirled around and a few things have surfaced.

Of course, I understand that my words will be read and decided upon as you all please. I'm also aware that sometimes it's best not to say anything at all - mind fucks, desire twisting, etc. I've simply decided that I'd like to push myself on Tuesday a bit further than I have before. This three-dom/me-scene is already one step in that direction. In situating myself mentally toward that goal, a few ideas popped into mind. I've been reading a book called Radical Ecstasy, which speaks highly to the intersection of tantra, s&m, spirituality. I'm interested in the potential of our opportunity to use the violet wand and flogging/whipping toward a very gut-centered release of some tightly-held, worthless baggage. I'm also curious about balancing that (possible) process with some very naughty sexual acts... of course, only if I'm a very good girl and anyone has any interest in using me as such. Along that vein, I'm very intrigued by objectification, as well.

Having contemplated this email many times today, and well aware of the potential consequences (as well as the trust I feel toward each of you), I'm going to take a deep breath and hit the "send" button.

Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. I'm terribly excited for tomorrow. :)

lola

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I've been selfishly absorbed. I was going to call my parents tonight, but I just couldn't muster up the intent. I didn't want the long-drawn out descriptions of how things went. I didn't want the forced conversation. The reminders. The knowledge that my father is fighting. I wanted to be selfish today and yesterday and days to come.

And now, I feel horrible again.

Relishing in my own fight. Facing my deep fears and physical pain. As if I couldn't stop and actually be present for my family.

And, oddly, last night, and the days leading up to it, all I could think was, "I asked to make it a hard fight ,just not impossible."