new photos up on flickr
from Boudoir Charnelle - bdsm and rope!
from the swingers - echangistes, although the girl bailed so I was left to the two men!
...anyone know where a girl can post a naughty video without getting in trouble?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Where has Lola been?!
Soon, I promise:
Craigslist the Good Hook-Up (with amazing sex and a clean toothbrush).
The neighbor and the couple swapping at the hamman: anal sex included.
India was wonderful and complicated - no sex, all work.
When I got back I had my period and bad timing so I was dry for a total month.
Party with the RAF (Royal Air Force - the winner of the Craigslist is a military man), his friend and his mistress/girlfriend. She left, poor thing, and missed the fun.
(examining the potent liquor given by the landlady. far right: RAF)
I got it up and down and on the bottom.
Then, it was up to Edinburgh for the Scotsman and a weekend during which I felt for the first time like I was on vacation. (There's even a nice long video from this trip.)
So, this is to whet your appetite. I have not given up writing on CDOA. I have not given up on you. I have stories to tell and I will tell them this week and weekend. And then, I'll make more.
Craigslist the Good Hook-Up (with amazing sex and a clean toothbrush).
The neighbor and the couple swapping at the hamman: anal sex included.
India was wonderful and complicated - no sex, all work.
When I got back I had my period and bad timing so I was dry for a total month.
Party with the RAF (Royal Air Force - the winner of the Craigslist is a military man), his friend and his mistress/girlfriend. She left, poor thing, and missed the fun.
(examining the potent liquor given by the landlady. far right: RAF)
I got it up and down and on the bottom.
Then, it was up to Edinburgh for the Scotsman and a weekend during which I felt for the first time like I was on vacation. (There's even a nice long video from this trip.)
So, this is to whet your appetite. I have not given up writing on CDOA. I have not given up on you. I have stories to tell and I will tell them this week and weekend. And then, I'll make more.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
School field trip: India
I'm off with my school program on a study trip until 17 Feb.
January 28:
Is starting to heat up in my mind. We're going in 9 days. We had to pick roommates tonight and I - am - loved! It's nice when you ask someone to be your roommate and they say "I would LOVE to. YAY!" Jane S and I are going to have so much fun. As I reported our roommate status to our class rep "Lola & Jane with the candlestick in the billiard room. Or maybe with the bathing suits in the pool. Or MAYBE with the booze in the mini fridge."
But really, I hear that the trip is pretty intensely packed with some fascinatingly amazing meetings with some cutting edge agencies, firms, NGOs, and a wide array of issues to push us and test our concepts of the world. For instance, we'll meet with an NGO that focuses on making child labor "better" which is a huge challenge to my own image of things. The US went through it's own industrial revolution and led its own child labor laws. Is it just for us to impose our Western views or what we have accomplished in our own society on other countries? It would be better if other countries could develop without some of the negative drawbacks that we overcame, but sometimes the right answer isn't the best one. I hear that India instituted a ban on child labor under 17 years old and this left thousands of girls ages 15-17 on the streets to do what? Prostitution mostly. Is working in a factory better or worse? Is it better or worse to eliminate these opportunities and how? Or, is it better to improve the situation while taking steps to eliminate it? I don't have these answers yet. We'll see what we learn.
February 5:
India tomorrow. I still haven't had time to really sit and absorb or prepare. My friend BH says "I am especially curious to find out how the Delhi metro turned out. They were working on it while I was there in 2003-2004. I am obsessed with trains esp. subways/metros. I dream about them all of the time. I have a paris metro map that i love dearly. I think that it seems like an almost impossible feat for delhi to actually have a metro. well maybe not impossible but 'surface life' sure is a different cup of tea... i love the friday mosque 'jama masjid' by the red fort. all kinds of folks are collected in front of it and tons of markets and dripping goats heads and that's where i saw the man without eyeballs and the body without limbs... the smells... moments frozen in time. i checked out the ymca to see if i wanted to stay in it, but with the variety of SUPER CHEAP places i chose not to. nice ymca though. i think my rickshaw broke down on the way there. o the hanuman temple is a sight... o and i ate at subway once just to save my life cuz i was never so sick in my life and b/c it reminds me of my high school days but not the delhi version with their chutneys and fake meats - india is the vegetarians paradise and they call it vege (pronounced vej) and right next store the folks dining at pizza hut were five starred out - they pulled out the chair for them and handed them menus and politely asked if they'd like anything to drink... while the cows walked past the seikh drivers for the super upper class suv cell fone talking ladies on their way to somewhere important
i love india"
I have heard "a living hell in heaven on earth." I have heard there is no pinpointing her or generalizing her. I know there are those news stock photos that try to convey the massive population and the immensity in transportation. I'll just try to absorb her as best I can and capture her in my own way.
It's 21h45 here and I'm doing the traditional last-minute packing that has been acquired from either/or/both my parents genes. Trying outfits on and off and thinking of packing enough but not too much - I'd like to leave room for saris and jewelry and jellys and jams - oh, wait, I'm not allowed to import food am I? Or am I? Or will I anyway? Just kidding... I have to be careful what I post here - someday I might want to run for President! Ha!!!! I did buy about 8G of photo cards and a few cheap but summery skirts (thank god some stores are now thinking spring!). Some of my attire is even FROM the places I'll be going to! ... sigh.... and good! Globalization is a complex matrix which I hope to learn more about. Let the market be, control the market - I'm not sure I fall in either camp.
What I do know is that in these summery skirts and 86F weather I will not be wearing tights or 'pantyhose' or stockings and instead, I'll be blindingly white like glue. At least I know I can seek refuge in the group of 30+ other pasty white kids. ... Speaking of refuge. We've all been warned not to give hand-outs to beggars, children or not. I'd like to imaginge I've been prepared a bit better for this shock as back in the day my mum learned a different approach as we cruised the insane streets of Buenos Aires. She'd carry apples in the glove box. I'm not sure if it's condescending to think we know better about giving out money to poor people (the complex gangs with warlords and fake babies-for-a-day schemes, drug or alcohol addiction), but I like to think that some of those kids were happy to have something to put in their bellies and were able to find a way to escape their Fagins to do so. So, of course, I think I'm mentally prepared to see this world (again, but times 100 million), and prepared not to immediately want to give them money, my jewelry, my personal effects and a good scrubbing.
But who knows? I might just crumble under the reality of it all. Or... maybe it's a bit too strong and I'm not entering into the movie "Gandhi." Frankly, my own fault, I've been so damn busy wrapping up school and such that I haven't done the appropriate investigation and research. I've printed a bunch of readings for the long flight so I plan to get in a few good hours of that before medicating myself for sleep. ... but oh the adventure! And it will be good to get out of Paris for a substantial amount of time. I need to re-appreciate her.
Well, this is over and out for now. I've got more packing to do. (The fashion show part is done, now the rolling and stuffing - - thank you, parents, for passing on this extremely useful skill!)
I'm not bringing the laptop but will check emails from the road. I won't be uploading the images as I go unless direly needed and available. But thanks for the well wishes.
See you in a few days!
January 28:
Is starting to heat up in my mind. We're going in 9 days. We had to pick roommates tonight and I - am - loved! It's nice when you ask someone to be your roommate and they say "I would LOVE to. YAY!" Jane S and I are going to have so much fun. As I reported our roommate status to our class rep "Lola & Jane with the candlestick in the billiard room. Or maybe with the bathing suits in the pool. Or MAYBE with the booze in the mini fridge."
But really, I hear that the trip is pretty intensely packed with some fascinatingly amazing meetings with some cutting edge agencies, firms, NGOs, and a wide array of issues to push us and test our concepts of the world. For instance, we'll meet with an NGO that focuses on making child labor "better" which is a huge challenge to my own image of things. The US went through it's own industrial revolution and led its own child labor laws. Is it just for us to impose our Western views or what we have accomplished in our own society on other countries? It would be better if other countries could develop without some of the negative drawbacks that we overcame, but sometimes the right answer isn't the best one. I hear that India instituted a ban on child labor under 17 years old and this left thousands of girls ages 15-17 on the streets to do what? Prostitution mostly. Is working in a factory better or worse? Is it better or worse to eliminate these opportunities and how? Or, is it better to improve the situation while taking steps to eliminate it? I don't have these answers yet. We'll see what we learn.
February 5:
India tomorrow. I still haven't had time to really sit and absorb or prepare. My friend BH says "I am especially curious to find out how the Delhi metro turned out. They were working on it while I was there in 2003-2004. I am obsessed with trains esp. subways/metros. I dream about them all of the time. I have a paris metro map that i love dearly. I think that it seems like an almost impossible feat for delhi to actually have a metro. well maybe not impossible but 'surface life' sure is a different cup of tea... i love the friday mosque 'jama masjid' by the red fort. all kinds of folks are collected in front of it and tons of markets and dripping goats heads and that's where i saw the man without eyeballs and the body without limbs... the smells... moments frozen in time. i checked out the ymca to see if i wanted to stay in it, but with the variety of SUPER CHEAP places i chose not to. nice ymca though. i think my rickshaw broke down on the way there. o the hanuman temple is a sight... o and i ate at subway once just to save my life cuz i was never so sick in my life and b/c it reminds me of my high school days but not the delhi version with their chutneys and fake meats - india is the vegetarians paradise and they call it vege (pronounced vej) and right next store the folks dining at pizza hut were five starred out - they pulled out the chair for them and handed them menus and politely asked if they'd like anything to drink... while the cows walked past the seikh drivers for the super upper class suv cell fone talking ladies on their way to somewhere important
i love india"
I have heard "a living hell in heaven on earth." I have heard there is no pinpointing her or generalizing her. I know there are those news stock photos that try to convey the massive population and the immensity in transportation. I'll just try to absorb her as best I can and capture her in my own way.
It's 21h45 here and I'm doing the traditional last-minute packing that has been acquired from either/or/both my parents genes. Trying outfits on and off and thinking of packing enough but not too much - I'd like to leave room for saris and jewelry and jellys and jams - oh, wait, I'm not allowed to import food am I? Or am I? Or will I anyway? Just kidding... I have to be careful what I post here - someday I might want to run for President! Ha!!!! I did buy about 8G of photo cards and a few cheap but summery skirts (thank god some stores are now thinking spring!). Some of my attire is even FROM the places I'll be going to! ... sigh.... and good! Globalization is a complex matrix which I hope to learn more about. Let the market be, control the market - I'm not sure I fall in either camp.
What I do know is that in these summery skirts and 86F weather I will not be wearing tights or 'pantyhose' or stockings and instead, I'll be blindingly white like glue. At least I know I can seek refuge in the group of 30+ other pasty white kids. ... Speaking of refuge. We've all been warned not to give hand-outs to beggars, children or not. I'd like to imaginge I've been prepared a bit better for this shock as back in the day my mum learned a different approach as we cruised the insane streets of Buenos Aires. She'd carry apples in the glove box. I'm not sure if it's condescending to think we know better about giving out money to poor people (the complex gangs with warlords and fake babies-for-a-day schemes, drug or alcohol addiction), but I like to think that some of those kids were happy to have something to put in their bellies and were able to find a way to escape their Fagins to do so. So, of course, I think I'm mentally prepared to see this world (again, but times 100 million), and prepared not to immediately want to give them money, my jewelry, my personal effects and a good scrubbing.
But who knows? I might just crumble under the reality of it all. Or... maybe it's a bit too strong and I'm not entering into the movie "Gandhi." Frankly, my own fault, I've been so damn busy wrapping up school and such that I haven't done the appropriate investigation and research. I've printed a bunch of readings for the long flight so I plan to get in a few good hours of that before medicating myself for sleep. ... but oh the adventure! And it will be good to get out of Paris for a substantial amount of time. I need to re-appreciate her.
Well, this is over and out for now. I've got more packing to do. (The fashion show part is done, now the rolling and stuffing - - thank you, parents, for passing on this extremely useful skill!)
I'm not bringing the laptop but will check emails from the road. I won't be uploading the images as I go unless direly needed and available. But thanks for the well wishes.
See you in a few days!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
craig's sex - gotta keep it in check
Ok, so maybe I didn't need to do it. No, ok, I really didn't need to do it. But I did. There I was, rather satisfied by the neighbor and able to go back and actually concentrate on cybercrime and the European Commission. But there were reserves that had built up over time. Two weeks. And there was a spring fever wafting and crashing across the Atlantic from the US. My sister said it was 40F one day in Minneapolis. I was supposed to bear down and hunker in to studying, but I felt like a frilly skirt and a piece of sunshine. Plus, the Canuck two weeks earlier wasn't topping me off like I should be. So, really, did he count? Hm. Ok, no.
But the neighbor came through. And I actually had to stop him at a point. Frankly though, he wasn't doing it for me either. I had actually been plotting any possible way to get out of going to the sex baths with him. I just didn't feel like hopping from naked room to naked room: hot tub to sauna to steam room to sex cabin. I just didn't feel like it. I kept thinking of him and me, in the little nook in the wall, on the bare tile of the steam room. I was completely grossed out and couldn't stop thinking about the millions of pubic and head hairs on the tile and all the possible cum piled up in corners. And then the tiny space, and him, spread eagle open with his knees back and me bony parts elbow resting to try to suck him off. Yes, I often have fat trucker fantasies and greasy grimey alley fuck dreams, but these are the thoughts that haunted me from the baths. Not how lovely the ornamentation was or how wonderfully warm the water felt or how the sauna was just warm/cool enough to tolerate. (Probably because none of this was true: the hot tub was just chilly enough that you couldn't quite settle in for a nice, long soak or fuck. The sauna just a bit too hot that you couldn't have a suck off on the beach of Mexico.)
And maybe it's because it's my neighbor and I know he's not a superstar actor but he pretends that he's better than the bougies. I don't know, but now I'm really not as grateful as I should be and instead I've turned bratty and needy and high-and-mighty thinking I can do better.... (Or, maybe I was graciously, desperately thanking him and happily satisfied but simply wanted more and it's only now that I look back with slight distaste.)
Meanwhile, my US friend bound for work in Saudi Arabia (where porn is illegal) sent me all his porn on CD.
So, with a slight dampening (and whetting) of the appetite, the seventeen-year-old boy moved back inside my body, kicked his shoes off, grabbed a bowl of Doritos, snuck some of his old man's beer up to my brain, slipped off his jeans and sat in his boxers in front of the computer. I thought homework, time running out, all the wonderful things I'd do with free weekend days if I could just knock out these papers. Instead, my cock got hard in my pants, my mind flashed between cyber/sex cyber/crime cyber/cyborgs cyber/cunt cyberrubber cyber/focus on your paper! cyber/feel it in your pants!
I thought long and hard, and then not so hard, and decided to press "Post." I wanted a quick lay, but more importantly I had to ensure I would not be hung and dry like this again. Julien wasn't so tops. The Scot was unattainable, on the road, and in love with some French girl in Madrid. The Canuck was too young. The neighbor filled me well in times of void. But there had to be others and I had to be able to fit it in to my schedule and I had to have some luck doing it my way.
I'd been reading the M4W and W4M and Casual Encounters for days off and on as the seventeen-year-old whacked off all over me. (bdsm planning takes more involvement but I was also surfing over there quite a bit, too.) I knew I'd get some hits if I posted on CL and I had an imagination that there'd be a lot of wading through and sorting and laughing at replies.
My ad on Craig's List:
I would like to find a friend-with-benefits arrangement with a man who might have at least three of these characteristics: witty, brooding, sexy, funny, daring, confident. It would be even more delicious if he came with a dominant drive, naughty mind, other occupations in life, and is easy on the eyes.
I am at least three of these adjectives: spontaneous, sexy, lingual, intelligent, bold, athletic, cheeky.
I'm interested in men my own age or older, please think twice before contacting me if you're in your 20s. I don't have a lot of time in my week, am not interested in marriage (of convenience or inconvenience), and wouldn't mind if you were attached to another woman. This isn't an instant gratification announcement, I'd like to meet for a coffee to see if we are compatible. Hosting at my place isn't ideal, but can be considered. Please include a photo when responding.
And just for fun, additional points for those who can identify the people behind these quotes:
"I would give my bush, my tuft to eat to anybody I fancied, and if I felt the desire, [to] rough men who, however, don't ask for anything other than fucking the woman who offers herself asking nothing in return."
"In the morning I walked down the Boulevard to the Rue Soufflot for coffee and brioche. It was a fine morning. The horse-chestnut trees in the Luxembourg gardens were in bloom."
"One becomes aware in France, after having lived in America, that sex pervades the air. It's there all around you, like a fluid."
27 were deleted for failing the simple tests of answering the game and being older than in their 20's:
"cheeky? i believe i am." - with 2 photos, one of him showering (really, guys, it's not the first thing we want to see. have a bit of class.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"very cool but u for sure got a million responces i live in 16 area if u have yahoo we can chat i have cam i dont want to write a lot because rather show all i am worth in person i am from uk and usa take care john" (cannot follow directions, does not get next step)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"there's no picture attached so i suppose i'll be
thrown in the bin straight away, but...
i am 32, 6 foot, 65kg, and any of the personality
characteristics would not be for me to say...
but I reckon it's Nin, Hemingway and Miller - how did
I do?
and i'll leave you with this since you like writing,
France and things physical:
....plura erant oscula quam sententiae; saepius ad
sinus quam ad libros reducebantur manus, crebrius
oculos amor in se reflectebat quam lectio in
scripturam dirigebat." (negativity isn't sexy, trying to guilt me is less sexy, latin is way less sexy -- though this exercept is hot)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi There,
29 m american in paris here. i will be here for two
weeks. I am white, very fit, very clean looking for
some good clean nsa fun. Let me know if you are
interested and I will send you a pic.
Take Care,
John"(color-specific people aren't my bag of tricks, nor are clean looking people or people that specify that they are those things in the 3rd sentence of their introduction)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hello
I saw your post and thought I would say hi...
write me back if your interested, maybe we can chat sometime" (this guy attached a photo of his financial-district-slick-hair-suited-specialness - while he followed the format, he also followed the format and thought I'd be salivating at his pic, too much ego)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"I was hesitant to contact you as, unfortunately, I don't spend that much time in Paris.
I say 'unfortunately' for the same reason that I decided to contact you: you sound like a very interesting person and, hey, correspondence is a start...
I would hope not to be too wide of the mark if I were to claim some measure of all of the characteristics you list, although it would be an unusually good day if I managed them all at once in any quantity!
I'm 38, attached, but looking to expand my horizons a little - we only go through this life once, and I would like to sample as much of it as I can get my hands on - to run barefoot through the green grass on the *other* side of the fence, just once in a while, while nobody is looking.
I get up to Paris on average once a month, for a week during which I work silly long hours, but I ought to be available for (and would be delighted to propose) a coffee or two (at least) during those times.
I didn't know any of your quotes, so I looked them up: I'd like to thank you for leading me to something I might otherwise have missed. "The Man from Albuquerque" passage is fierce and erotic, and I can picture myself in it as protagonist or voyeur, or object. I shall look out for more Julie Saget.
I have read very little Hemingway, probably because he was required English Literature reading, but feel inspired to have a look. Maybe I'll try The Sun Also Rises.
I've not knowingly read any Henry Miller, however he appears to have been very prolific, so who knows - maybe I have read some of his work. I stumbled upon the phrase "It is true I swim in a perpetual sea of sex but the actual excursions are fairly limited", which struck a chord - it is to avoid such a situation that I am here...
I've attached a photo, in the hope that it tells you something useful.
I particularly liked yours: I would love to know the circumstances under which it was taken." (I liked this guy, but he lacked some kind of ... naturalness, joie de vivre, like I could sense this was his first foray into 'cheating' and he felt like it was 'cheating' already and he was a little too structured in his delivery for that.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Little idea regarding the first but Ernest and Henry most definitely are behind the other two.
So excited to make your acquaintance, albeit over mail. Such is life these days.
People have described me (if I may say so) as: adventurous, passionate and driven. Now I can understand if at least one of these may put you off but I am extremely open minded.
I am 35, I'd say progressing well in life, no hang ups but very keen on going on a journey of discovery in my life.
Hence me contacting. You sound interesting and seductive. Coffee would be great.
Picture will certainly improve in quality with one of yours!
talk soon." ("such is life these days" - god, I can hear the burdened sigh of depression and tragedy. Put me off? Lord. Don't be so dramatic. Who describes living as "progressing well"? Sigh. If I had the time, I'd date him just to make him feel better about things but I don't have time to light those kind of furnaces.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi, [the structure of this email was formatted like an official letter with double-spacing between introduction and closing; I've re-sized for brevity]
What about meeting up with a funny charming french gentleman ??
Located in NYC but in Paris at the moment, single, non smoker, in very good shape, classy, educated clean cut professional.
Also an investment banker but not the typical one, I have many interets : contemporary art (I have a few paintings at home), music (I love going to concerts), travelling to exotic destinations (was in Bahrain and New Zealand very recently Japan and China lately) and sport (I am a keen golfer, also play tennis, go to the gym very regularly). I like the finer things in life but am still very much down to earth.
I am serious too about what I am looking for, upscale, educated, real and very well manered people.
I am very good looking, brown eyed, caucasian, height-weight proportionate at about 6' and 175 lbs, 40.
I am also proud to tell you I read your post entirely :
The third quote is from Henry Miller…… I love the Letters to Anaïs Nin,even if this quote is not from that book.
The second quote is from Ernest Hemingway in “The sun also rises”
And unfortunately, I don’t know the first one…….. Nobody’s perfect ;-)
Hope you will be interested and I look forward to hearing form you." (Nice guy, I'm definitely not what he's looking for, and I think he's wound too tightly and secretly wants to be spanked while wearing my lacy thong. And, you're right, nobody's perfect but some of us don't worry about it.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hello -
I travel to Paris on occasion and would enjoy having you as a F-w-B. I am married (w/girlfriend) handsome 45 yr-old, 5'8", 180 lbs with brown (s&p) hair and green eyes, masculine, dominant (in a nice sensual way). Nicely endowed. Well-read and traveled. Yes, married 20 years, and have a girlfriend (well, another F-w-B situation) who occasionally travels with me and enjoys women as well ... am very discreet and can host in my 7th etage hotel. Adventurous, educated, world experienced, nice, funny, horny and "comfortable."
My pictures when you find the time to reply.
Ciao!
John" (I'm just not interested in joining a harem or being encouraged to join in his bi-girl fantasy. And, he missed the mark on the photo.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"hi !
I live in Paris, I'm a 32 years old man. I've lived + worked in the US a couple years ago.
(Short) Resume :
- doctorate studies at XYZ school in PDQ
- steady job : ABC in BCD
- loves to travel : I've been to many foreign countries. I have lived abroad in numerous countries including the USA.
- hobbies : photography, museums (orsay, louvre ...), castles, exhibitions, music performing ...
You can find some pic of mine here:
www.lets-skirt-the-photo-request-a-bit.com
If you don't reply to this message, well ... good luck on your search.
Cheers from Paris,
j." (Nice of him to wish me well. A resume? Hm.. and what will castles have to do with the friends with benefits? Well, I guess there's the friends part, yes, that's true. He does sound good, but there's no photo attached.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Would you be willing to meet a well educated married man with alot of the traits that you desire. I am in search of new experiences and adventure with the right woman in Paris. You may be the chosen one. If interested please write back, and I will send a picture. We could meet at the Starbucks for coffee on Avenue Victor Hugo or you name the place! I am on a long term expat assignment and I live in the 18th.
John" (Honey, I am the chosen one - there's no maybe in this. No photo.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi!
I am really into your email. I am very much looking for a friends with benefits situation. I am older (early 40), smart, sharp and sexy. I am pretty fit, attractive and energetic. I am attached and don't have much time either. I am not looking to change my situation. But, I just want more. I want to feel the charge of being with someone new and to feel the exciting of passionate kissing and licking. I have never done this before. Maybe we can arrange our schedules so that we can work each other into our schedules. I would be a very attentive lover.
Let me know if you want to meet.
Kisses...."
followed 11 minutes later with "You know what...I could probably meet earlier than sunday. Tomorrow?" (Slow sinking into desperateness - not hot. No photo. Plus, I want less instant gratification, more longer time reliability. Less me sparking his dimmed life, more mutual gratification.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"your different statements are wonderful, I would be thus interesting in commucating with you.
My address email is jean@xxyyzz.com. What about a chat on messenger before arraging an appointment?
Jean" (Oh the French, so cute in their language. Would you thus be interested in me? And shall we chat before setting an appointment? ... no photo)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"interesting...
I am 28 m french... living in LA, but "back home" for 2 weeks of holidays.
Care to meet?" (looking for longer term, no photo)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"As your post was probably not real..I am just going to be a fool and take the chance and see what could happen..29 American blk professional male working and living here in Paris..Fun and down to earth..very funny and love to have a great time with great people...Looking to make a friend that is cool and fun..as i work alot and hardly have time to myself let alone going out to meet a people i have to resort to looking on CL to maybe find a person that can have more to say than..how big is your cock...So i will try this out if you are serious ..I will respond back with pics." (How big is your cock? ... You forgot to include a photo of it. Plus, you're still in your 20's.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
A couple of guys (in their 20's) replied and included the full quotes and highlighted the names afterward like it was some kind of exam. Sad. One guy who sent an email (which was about how he likes being with 'older women' at his oh-so-young 25 years - c'mon.. 7 years? if you really like 'older women' you know not to call them 'older women') followed up his reply by accidentally calling me Trinity. Hm. As in Neo's Trinity? Hot.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi,
I must assume that a douzens of guys answered to your mail but I feel like I should send you one.
fun, laidback, outgoing male in Paris = it's me.
I would be glad to have a chance of having a coffe with you even thought I know you will first think I'm way too young for you.
I guess I might have some of the characteristics you think a man should have ;-)
I'm a 22 years old student (finance) and I'm sure that none of the other freaks who answered you before know that you were talking about Hemingway and Henry Miller.....
So feel free to write me back and why not trying to give me a chance just to see what happen ?
Voici une photo de moi,
bye
John" (It's not nice to name call. Shame on you. Now go stand in the corner while I call your mummy.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi,
That is a very nice posting. I am an americain/irlandais living here in the 7th and working in the 16th and I can identify with, but not identify, the quotes. If i failed the test I am perhaps not worthy, but it is a very cool post nonetheless." (Hm. I kind of like the self-deprecating humor of the northern European, but it wasn't working here. No photo.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
A very large Asian American guy emailed me with his email name being "Tom Jones" - got me all excited that Tom Jones was in Paris reading the CL dates and wanted to hook up. Bummer. (Only in town for the weekend, sounds a bit seedy.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Of course, as I make fun of people we all know it's a sign of insecurity. I know this. I am insecure. And each of these guys - you could say - put it on the line to go out on a date with me. Nice of them. But after the ad only being up for 12 hours, I had to have a system for making the cuts. I want/ed to reply to each to explain but I don't have that time. God, don't guilt me about how it's only going to make them feel more insecure because it's probably not. They probably all thought I was a hooker anyway. but so there you go. Perhaps you can take a lesson here, although not as if I speak for the entire woman population. I was lucky to get so many replies. You'll have to check back to see the ones who got replies from me and to hear about my Friday afternoon to Saturday morning. .... I have to watch myself. I'm not a sex addict. If I were it wouldn't matter who I was fucking or how. I'm an orgasm addict, which makes me a bit more picky and a bit more addictive. Cause when it's good - oh. oh. oh. God, it's so good.
But the neighbor came through. And I actually had to stop him at a point. Frankly though, he wasn't doing it for me either. I had actually been plotting any possible way to get out of going to the sex baths with him. I just didn't feel like hopping from naked room to naked room: hot tub to sauna to steam room to sex cabin. I just didn't feel like it. I kept thinking of him and me, in the little nook in the wall, on the bare tile of the steam room. I was completely grossed out and couldn't stop thinking about the millions of pubic and head hairs on the tile and all the possible cum piled up in corners. And then the tiny space, and him, spread eagle open with his knees back and me bony parts elbow resting to try to suck him off. Yes, I often have fat trucker fantasies and greasy grimey alley fuck dreams, but these are the thoughts that haunted me from the baths. Not how lovely the ornamentation was or how wonderfully warm the water felt or how the sauna was just warm/cool enough to tolerate. (Probably because none of this was true: the hot tub was just chilly enough that you couldn't quite settle in for a nice, long soak or fuck. The sauna just a bit too hot that you couldn't have a suck off on the beach of Mexico.)
And maybe it's because it's my neighbor and I know he's not a superstar actor but he pretends that he's better than the bougies. I don't know, but now I'm really not as grateful as I should be and instead I've turned bratty and needy and high-and-mighty thinking I can do better.... (Or, maybe I was graciously, desperately thanking him and happily satisfied but simply wanted more and it's only now that I look back with slight distaste.)
Meanwhile, my US friend bound for work in Saudi Arabia (where porn is illegal) sent me all his porn on CD.
So, with a slight dampening (and whetting) of the appetite, the seventeen-year-old boy moved back inside my body, kicked his shoes off, grabbed a bowl of Doritos, snuck some of his old man's beer up to my brain, slipped off his jeans and sat in his boxers in front of the computer. I thought homework, time running out, all the wonderful things I'd do with free weekend days if I could just knock out these papers. Instead, my cock got hard in my pants, my mind flashed between cyber/sex cyber/crime cyber/cyborgs cyber/cunt cyberrubber cyber/focus on your paper! cyber/feel it in your pants!
I thought long and hard, and then not so hard, and decided to press "Post." I wanted a quick lay, but more importantly I had to ensure I would not be hung and dry like this again. Julien wasn't so tops. The Scot was unattainable, on the road, and in love with some French girl in Madrid. The Canuck was too young. The neighbor filled me well in times of void. But there had to be others and I had to be able to fit it in to my schedule and I had to have some luck doing it my way.
I'd been reading the M4W and W4M and Casual Encounters for days off and on as the seventeen-year-old whacked off all over me. (bdsm planning takes more involvement but I was also surfing over there quite a bit, too.) I knew I'd get some hits if I posted on CL and I had an imagination that there'd be a lot of wading through and sorting and laughing at replies.
My ad on Craig's List:
I would like to find a friend-with-benefits arrangement with a man who might have at least three of these characteristics: witty, brooding, sexy, funny, daring, confident. It would be even more delicious if he came with a dominant drive, naughty mind, other occupations in life, and is easy on the eyes.
I am at least three of these adjectives: spontaneous, sexy, lingual, intelligent, bold, athletic, cheeky.
I'm interested in men my own age or older, please think twice before contacting me if you're in your 20s. I don't have a lot of time in my week, am not interested in marriage (of convenience or inconvenience), and wouldn't mind if you were attached to another woman. This isn't an instant gratification announcement, I'd like to meet for a coffee to see if we are compatible. Hosting at my place isn't ideal, but can be considered. Please include a photo when responding.
And just for fun, additional points for those who can identify the people behind these quotes:
"I would give my bush, my tuft to eat to anybody I fancied, and if I felt the desire, [to] rough men who, however, don't ask for anything other than fucking the woman who offers herself asking nothing in return."
"In the morning I walked down the Boulevard to the Rue Soufflot for coffee and brioche. It was a fine morning. The horse-chestnut trees in the Luxembourg gardens were in bloom."
"One becomes aware in France, after having lived in America, that sex pervades the air. It's there all around you, like a fluid."
27 were deleted for failing the simple tests of answering the game and being older than in their 20's:
"cheeky? i believe i am." - with 2 photos, one of him showering (really, guys, it's not the first thing we want to see. have a bit of class.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"very cool but u for sure got a million responces i live in 16 area if u have yahoo we can chat i have cam i dont want to write a lot because rather show all i am worth in person i am from uk and usa take care john" (cannot follow directions, does not get next step)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"there's no picture attached so i suppose i'll be
thrown in the bin straight away, but...
i am 32, 6 foot, 65kg, and any of the personality
characteristics would not be for me to say...
but I reckon it's Nin, Hemingway and Miller - how did
I do?
and i'll leave you with this since you like writing,
France and things physical:
....plura erant oscula quam sententiae; saepius ad
sinus quam ad libros reducebantur manus, crebrius
oculos amor in se reflectebat quam lectio in
scripturam dirigebat." (negativity isn't sexy, trying to guilt me is less sexy, latin is way less sexy -- though this exercept is hot)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi There,
29 m american in paris here. i will be here for two
weeks. I am white, very fit, very clean looking for
some good clean nsa fun. Let me know if you are
interested and I will send you a pic.
Take Care,
John"(color-specific people aren't my bag of tricks, nor are clean looking people or people that specify that they are those things in the 3rd sentence of their introduction)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hello
I saw your post and thought I would say hi...
write me back if your interested, maybe we can chat sometime" (this guy attached a photo of his financial-district-slick-hair-suited-specialness - while he followed the format, he also followed the format and thought I'd be salivating at his pic, too much ego)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"I was hesitant to contact you as, unfortunately, I don't spend that much time in Paris.
I say 'unfortunately' for the same reason that I decided to contact you: you sound like a very interesting person and, hey, correspondence is a start...
I would hope not to be too wide of the mark if I were to claim some measure of all of the characteristics you list, although it would be an unusually good day if I managed them all at once in any quantity!
I'm 38, attached, but looking to expand my horizons a little - we only go through this life once, and I would like to sample as much of it as I can get my hands on - to run barefoot through the green grass on the *other* side of the fence, just once in a while, while nobody is looking.
I get up to Paris on average once a month, for a week during which I work silly long hours, but I ought to be available for (and would be delighted to propose) a coffee or two (at least) during those times.
I didn't know any of your quotes, so I looked them up: I'd like to thank you for leading me to something I might otherwise have missed. "The Man from Albuquerque" passage is fierce and erotic, and I can picture myself in it as protagonist or voyeur, or object. I shall look out for more Julie Saget.
I have read very little Hemingway, probably because he was required English Literature reading, but feel inspired to have a look. Maybe I'll try The Sun Also Rises.
I've not knowingly read any Henry Miller, however he appears to have been very prolific, so who knows - maybe I have read some of his work. I stumbled upon the phrase "It is true I swim in a perpetual sea of sex but the actual excursions are fairly limited", which struck a chord - it is to avoid such a situation that I am here...
I've attached a photo, in the hope that it tells you something useful.
I particularly liked yours: I would love to know the circumstances under which it was taken." (I liked this guy, but he lacked some kind of ... naturalness, joie de vivre, like I could sense this was his first foray into 'cheating' and he felt like it was 'cheating' already and he was a little too structured in his delivery for that.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Little idea regarding the first but Ernest and Henry most definitely are behind the other two.
So excited to make your acquaintance, albeit over mail. Such is life these days.
People have described me (if I may say so) as: adventurous, passionate and driven. Now I can understand if at least one of these may put you off but I am extremely open minded.
I am 35, I'd say progressing well in life, no hang ups but very keen on going on a journey of discovery in my life.
Hence me contacting. You sound interesting and seductive. Coffee would be great.
Picture will certainly improve in quality with one of yours!
talk soon." ("such is life these days" - god, I can hear the burdened sigh of depression and tragedy. Put me off? Lord. Don't be so dramatic. Who describes living as "progressing well"? Sigh. If I had the time, I'd date him just to make him feel better about things but I don't have time to light those kind of furnaces.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi, [the structure of this email was formatted like an official letter with double-spacing between introduction and closing; I've re-sized for brevity]
What about meeting up with a funny charming french gentleman ??
Located in NYC but in Paris at the moment, single, non smoker, in very good shape, classy, educated clean cut professional.
Also an investment banker but not the typical one, I have many interets : contemporary art (I have a few paintings at home), music (I love going to concerts), travelling to exotic destinations (was in Bahrain and New Zealand very recently Japan and China lately) and sport (I am a keen golfer, also play tennis, go to the gym very regularly). I like the finer things in life but am still very much down to earth.
I am serious too about what I am looking for, upscale, educated, real and very well manered people.
I am very good looking, brown eyed, caucasian, height-weight proportionate at about 6' and 175 lbs, 40.
I am also proud to tell you I read your post entirely :
The third quote is from Henry Miller…… I love the Letters to Anaïs Nin,even if this quote is not from that book.
The second quote is from Ernest Hemingway in “The sun also rises”
And unfortunately, I don’t know the first one…….. Nobody’s perfect ;-)
Hope you will be interested and I look forward to hearing form you." (Nice guy, I'm definitely not what he's looking for, and I think he's wound too tightly and secretly wants to be spanked while wearing my lacy thong. And, you're right, nobody's perfect but some of us don't worry about it.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hello -
I travel to Paris on occasion and would enjoy having you as a F-w-B. I am married (w/girlfriend) handsome 45 yr-old, 5'8", 180 lbs with brown (s&p) hair and green eyes, masculine, dominant (in a nice sensual way). Nicely endowed. Well-read and traveled. Yes, married 20 years, and have a girlfriend (well, another F-w-B situation) who occasionally travels with me and enjoys women as well ... am very discreet and can host in my 7th etage hotel. Adventurous, educated, world experienced, nice, funny, horny and "comfortable."
My pictures when you find the time to reply.
Ciao!
John" (I'm just not interested in joining a harem or being encouraged to join in his bi-girl fantasy. And, he missed the mark on the photo.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"hi !
I live in Paris, I'm a 32 years old man. I've lived + worked in the US a couple years ago.
(Short) Resume :
- doctorate studies at XYZ school in PDQ
- steady job : ABC in BCD
- loves to travel : I've been to many foreign countries. I have lived abroad in numerous countries including the USA.
- hobbies : photography, museums (orsay, louvre ...), castles, exhibitions, music performing ...
You can find some pic of mine here:
www.lets-skirt-the-photo-request-a-bit.com
If you don't reply to this message, well ... good luck on your search.
Cheers from Paris,
j." (Nice of him to wish me well. A resume? Hm.. and what will castles have to do with the friends with benefits? Well, I guess there's the friends part, yes, that's true. He does sound good, but there's no photo attached.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Would you be willing to meet a well educated married man with alot of the traits that you desire. I am in search of new experiences and adventure with the right woman in Paris. You may be the chosen one. If interested please write back, and I will send a picture. We could meet at the Starbucks for coffee on Avenue Victor Hugo or you name the place! I am on a long term expat assignment and I live in the 18th.
John" (Honey, I am the chosen one - there's no maybe in this. No photo.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi!
I am really into your email. I am very much looking for a friends with benefits situation. I am older (early 40), smart, sharp and sexy. I am pretty fit, attractive and energetic. I am attached and don't have much time either. I am not looking to change my situation. But, I just want more. I want to feel the charge of being with someone new and to feel the exciting of passionate kissing and licking. I have never done this before. Maybe we can arrange our schedules so that we can work each other into our schedules. I would be a very attentive lover.
Let me know if you want to meet.
Kisses...."
followed 11 minutes later with "You know what...I could probably meet earlier than sunday. Tomorrow?" (Slow sinking into desperateness - not hot. No photo. Plus, I want less instant gratification, more longer time reliability. Less me sparking his dimmed life, more mutual gratification.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"your different statements are wonderful, I would be thus interesting in commucating with you.
My address email is jean@xxyyzz.com. What about a chat on messenger before arraging an appointment?
Jean" (Oh the French, so cute in their language. Would you thus be interested in me? And shall we chat before setting an appointment? ... no photo)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"interesting...
I am 28 m french... living in LA, but "back home" for 2 weeks of holidays.
Care to meet?" (looking for longer term, no photo)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"As your post was probably not real..I am just going to be a fool and take the chance and see what could happen..29 American blk professional male working and living here in Paris..Fun and down to earth..very funny and love to have a great time with great people...Looking to make a friend that is cool and fun..as i work alot and hardly have time to myself let alone going out to meet a people i have to resort to looking on CL to maybe find a person that can have more to say than..how big is your cock...So i will try this out if you are serious ..I will respond back with pics." (How big is your cock? ... You forgot to include a photo of it. Plus, you're still in your 20's.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
A couple of guys (in their 20's) replied and included the full quotes and highlighted the names afterward like it was some kind of exam. Sad. One guy who sent an email (which was about how he likes being with 'older women' at his oh-so-young 25 years - c'mon.. 7 years? if you really like 'older women' you know not to call them 'older women') followed up his reply by accidentally calling me Trinity. Hm. As in Neo's Trinity? Hot.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi,
I must assume that a douzens of guys answered to your mail but I feel like I should send you one.
fun, laidback, outgoing male in Paris = it's me.
I would be glad to have a chance of having a coffe with you even thought I know you will first think I'm way too young for you.
I guess I might have some of the characteristics you think a man should have ;-)
I'm a 22 years old student (finance) and I'm sure that none of the other freaks who answered you before know that you were talking about Hemingway and Henry Miller.....
So feel free to write me back and why not trying to give me a chance just to see what happen ?
Voici une photo de moi,
bye
John" (It's not nice to name call. Shame on you. Now go stand in the corner while I call your mummy.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi,
That is a very nice posting. I am an americain/irlandais living here in the 7th and working in the 16th and I can identify with, but not identify, the quotes. If i failed the test I am perhaps not worthy, but it is a very cool post nonetheless." (Hm. I kind of like the self-deprecating humor of the northern European, but it wasn't working here. No photo.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
A very large Asian American guy emailed me with his email name being "Tom Jones" - got me all excited that Tom Jones was in Paris reading the CL dates and wanted to hook up. Bummer. (Only in town for the weekend, sounds a bit seedy.)
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Of course, as I make fun of people we all know it's a sign of insecurity. I know this. I am insecure. And each of these guys - you could say - put it on the line to go out on a date with me. Nice of them. But after the ad only being up for 12 hours, I had to have a system for making the cuts. I want/ed to reply to each to explain but I don't have that time. God, don't guilt me about how it's only going to make them feel more insecure because it's probably not. They probably all thought I was a hooker anyway. but so there you go. Perhaps you can take a lesson here, although not as if I speak for the entire woman population. I was lucky to get so many replies. You'll have to check back to see the ones who got replies from me and to hear about my Friday afternoon to Saturday morning. .... I have to watch myself. I'm not a sex addict. If I were it wouldn't matter who I was fucking or how. I'm an orgasm addict, which makes me a bit more picky and a bit more addictive. Cause when it's good - oh. oh. oh. God, it's so good.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
just once: holla back ya'll
James tells me he doesn't comment a lot because he doesn't want to be one of the million white guys who reads. It'd be nice to see who does though. I'm not keeping up with my stats counter. And, I'd like to get to know ya.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
an excess of men, all blurring together into a dramatic apotheosis
My brain is drunk on images.
It is that time again.
Disintegration.
If I could sink as low as I feel my thoughts could go, I would plummet in a slow motion rip through the wooden floors of this building. The wood would peel back in splinters and me, along with this wicker chair, would rush through the levels separating privacy and violation all the way into the concrete and brick of the basement and through to the dank, spooge, grease of the sewers. That is where I would rest. Splattered with wood splinters gouging my soft skin. Hair torn off in strands caught on the jagged floor above me. Black ooze splashed up into my eyes and sliding down my calves. The rats gathering curious after the loud disruption. And me, sitting, calmly, staring at a slight forty-five degree angle at a crack slightly lit by some life from the hole above my head. My heart a stuttering horse galloping across the dips of my chest cavity. The empty firepit of my belly filling with phlem. Mechanically, I would pierce through the sludge below to grab a rabid rat and would rub rub rub him between my legs until rugburn and tears.
I am in love with incest. When I think about my own father he is replaced by a melting pot of beautiful men I know in my life. But I don't think of my own father. I read stories of other people's fantasies. When I hear the father next door argue with his seventeen year old daughter about her lateness or her absence or her homework and then the voices go silent, I imagine his anger really comes from desire and he muffles her moans as he forgives her. They fuck in my head endlessly and I want to ask him about it, tell him he must describe it to me. Tell me every detail so I can find out if the shuffles and echoes I hear match what I imagine is going on. Does he push the back of her head so her mouth gags on his cock like he did me? And will he call me his fille when he shoves his hand inside me? When my American friend, the professor, visited, sitting so vulgarly next to his wife, button-up shirt unbuttoned showing his white undershirt covering a pot belly only exaggerated by his overtly loud annoying American behavior earlier in the day. He tells of his new caregiving of their children and how his three year old sits with him watching portions of Roman Polanski and says, "But this is boring to me." He pauses with memory behind his eyes and hesitates in finishin the story. And I imagine he has a hand on her golden curls and is placing sweet kisses along her arm as she giggles.
"Incest, like pedophilia or bestiality or cannibalism are only taboos erected by social convention, always identifying with the victim. There is nothing inherently evil in them and any damage they might do is also socially constructed. In other words, he felt that they could only be damaging if you believed they were inherently evil. Why then succumb to such weakness? He felt that if Anaïs were to put this into her own words, she would support his explanation that this was something unique, a great sacrilege, a radical transgression of the forbidden. That was how it should be judged. Why impose conventional bourgeois sentiments upon it if that is what you think? Anglo-Saxon culture in particular had trouble understanding that blood is the most potent substance on the earth; Spanish culture understands it but rightly fears it; only French culture had learnt to understand it to some degree, which is why he chose to live in Paris."
There is sacredness to blood. I try to imagine what this means to Parisians and I'm afraid that I'm so far away from them that by the time I reach them, my time will be up and I will be without an EU citizenship to stay on to figure them out. "Rank concluded these fantasies produce three kinds of people: (1) the normal person who is able to deal with its implications and get on with life; (2) the neurotic, who requires psychoanalytic guidance; and (3) the artistic person who translates them into their writing. It was the third of these that Rank was interested in here."
Why the fuck am I here?
I have four red daisies in the middle of a white room. I am writing on an antique round table which can fit three or eight people. I have two tiny speakers begging and craving Louis Attaque to my heart. Elle est pas.
I have stumbled over my own desires. I am running to find someone, something and I am refraining from seeing things. I am told it is my own ignorance of myself that is blinding and beauty. I have no idea I am sexy. I keep aiming for it, thinking I'm failing and tryiing all the more harder. And yet, it is flypaper while I think it is bug repellent. Come together over me.
I am going to fail my economics exam. I am going to half-ass my law paper and I'm going to totally give a fuck on my statitics paper.
It is that dissentigration. I can't keep my hands out of my pants and I'm begging for a beating.
Remember that guy several years ago who wooed me when I was a drunkard? (If you're trustworthy I'll give you the passcode to CDOA v.2) And then we found each other again last year in Madison and he brought me a fishnet body suit and porn and then bored me over lunch? He's moving to Saudi Arabia for a big money making job and sent me all his porn. It's illegal over there. So I have a 2-foot tall stack of CDs of all kinds of porn on my counter top. And now he's asking to see me again. I am not an alter at which to be worshiped. I am not to be psychoanalyzed and told that my independence will let me down. I am not to be wooed with promises of comfort and seduction and ultimate pleasure.
I am to be broken.
I imagine there's an equally strong hand for my equally challenging ass.
It is true that confidence overwins any other default. Someone posted a simple ad on Craigslist/Paris looking for a girl who would be interested in bondage. I was bored, proscrastinating and sent a reply. He's a (struggling) fashion photographer who is attracted by Shibari. He's been in love with Japan and Paris. I was shy our first meeting at his place. He cut me short on the elongated, drawn-out email exchange I sometimes enjoy as foreplay. I thought we'd be going for the (new) Ang Lee movie but we ended up talking for hours. I was shy. He sat on a stool in his bedroom cum living room and squirmed. It's always odd to me when men squirm in front of me. Have they no idea that I'm pacing and trembling and cowering on the inside? I'm chalking his body twisting up to the fact that he hadn't smoked the maryjane in days and was without a contact. Not that it's addicting, mind you, but that he just felt even more microscoped without it. I was kind of burning him with my stares. (We all know that intensity only masks utter insecurity, right?) I was amazed by his arms. Ok, he said he was a rollerblader (which in this country isn't quite as lame as in the US, it's more of an alternate mode of transportation coupled with daring feat), but where did his arms come from? I'm a sucker for strong hands, but was keenly aware of his biceps for some reason. Perhaps it was the way he was dressed like Kerouac. Poor, artist, Henry Miller, wine, short on cash, all those things I had left behind.
"Most virtue is a demand for greater seduction." - Natalie Clifford Barney
So he sent in an email mentioning that next time he'd like have his way with me. I had wondered if I'd made any good impression at all. A million beautiful women in his apartment/studio. We kissed cheeks good-bye with a closer lip kiss on the second, and a second spread out between us when he leaned in and gave me a quick third kiss. Just like a playground, acceptance and maybe he likes me. I was convinced he'd have a girlfriend or wife or both and I'd just be a professional experience. And in the meantime, I suffer my hormones.
Disintigration into debasement.
Anais Nin fucked Henry Miller who fucked June (who needs no last name). But she also fucked her father at the suggestion (perhaps) of her psychoanalyst who also fucked her in order to replace her obsession with her father. While unethical it worked and she wa able to leave him. I wrote a paper in the 8th grade on Munchausen Syndrome and child abuse. I'm not sure how much I plagerized but it wasn't all me. In 7th grade I convinced my Mormon science lab partner to do our student project on viscosity of liquids and we won. But I've never eagerly or voluntarily fucked my parent. That's a feat I don't know I could do. Although it is, as James pointed out, the ultimate taboo and I am probably only attracted to it because it's so wrong.
It's seductive to offer me things like hearts and comfort and power. As seductive as truth:
I'm vulnerable right now. I'm aware of this which is good and necessary. But I am primed after such a long time without my needs met. Sure, I've been getting cock since I got here (thank the gods!), but meeting bare necessities for a highly sexed girl like me doesn't do much but tease. I could very easily fall for an for a casual encounter on Craigslist or a tempting invitation to use my body. And in other parallel universes my body isn't caged and I'm doing these things. And in those parallel universes I am asking first and then, once I've found my voice, insisting I am paid.
I have these thoughts so many times a day. I watched the madam pace up the corner of the block yesterday. I had a short class, stopped by Demonia to browse the sales, and decided to eat a late lunch at the cafe on Pigalle. I've seen this woman so many times as I round the corner from the metro down the walk to my apartment. She's always looking the same way. About 5'3", black dyed hair pulled back in a slick ponytail, a face with a bit of Eastern European roundness but Italian fire in her eyes. A kind of black bomber jacket with fur-lined hood that is long enough to cover her ass, black pants, black casual sneakers. She looks like she could be your sister or a waitress on a smoke break or a tour guide, but instead she tries to entice men - gently, which is refreshing to see - to go into a club around the corner. We've made eye contact on a few times but me sitting in the cafe gave us both a better chance to eye each other up. So, later last night, when I was off to the bondage soiree, pigtails and heels covered up under my long coat, we made eyes in one of those 2 seconds seems like forever stares and we *knew*. I have deep dreams that she stops me next time and suggests I be the English-speaking escort at her bar. I am so close to the edge of exploring this world but ... hahahah... lord, my morals or fear are holding me back. I certainly don't want to be stupid about this, but I wouldn't mind using my god-given talents to earn a few Euros. I'd be so damn good at it too.
I'm reading "The Prince" by Machiavelli on the metro lately. I read it all the way down to the bondage soiree to be there at 11pm to meet Wilfried & Sarah and friends. I had written down the wrong number on the street. I was sweating on the metro in my corset. I read the book all the way back up the metro. It wasn't a night blown, but it was a "stupidity tax" as BadMan put it.
I'm taking up a French-English language exchange and had my first meeting today. I think it will be impossible as it's supposed to be with the husband of my pregnant colleague. He smells like need and I smell like desire and she smells like ... a bubble. It's dangerous. I could already tell. Despite her presence today, I couldn't help but giggle and do that weird accidental deep looking into his eyes. I just don't think there's a single way for me to live another way. Everyone is sexual to me, every object is something I'd like to shove into my mouth or cunnie.
Disentigration.
Man, I want a cigarette.
"Paris was pulsing away in Anaïs’ bloodstream well before she began her strange flirtation with Antonin Artaud. What Anaïs wanted was to provoke a crisis in herself: an excess of men, all blurring together into a dramatic apotheosis."
with help from Sexual Fables
It is that time again.
Disintegration.
If I could sink as low as I feel my thoughts could go, I would plummet in a slow motion rip through the wooden floors of this building. The wood would peel back in splinters and me, along with this wicker chair, would rush through the levels separating privacy and violation all the way into the concrete and brick of the basement and through to the dank, spooge, grease of the sewers. That is where I would rest. Splattered with wood splinters gouging my soft skin. Hair torn off in strands caught on the jagged floor above me. Black ooze splashed up into my eyes and sliding down my calves. The rats gathering curious after the loud disruption. And me, sitting, calmly, staring at a slight forty-five degree angle at a crack slightly lit by some life from the hole above my head. My heart a stuttering horse galloping across the dips of my chest cavity. The empty firepit of my belly filling with phlem. Mechanically, I would pierce through the sludge below to grab a rabid rat and would rub rub rub him between my legs until rugburn and tears.
I am in love with incest. When I think about my own father he is replaced by a melting pot of beautiful men I know in my life. But I don't think of my own father. I read stories of other people's fantasies. When I hear the father next door argue with his seventeen year old daughter about her lateness or her absence or her homework and then the voices go silent, I imagine his anger really comes from desire and he muffles her moans as he forgives her. They fuck in my head endlessly and I want to ask him about it, tell him he must describe it to me. Tell me every detail so I can find out if the shuffles and echoes I hear match what I imagine is going on. Does he push the back of her head so her mouth gags on his cock like he did me? And will he call me his fille when he shoves his hand inside me? When my American friend, the professor, visited, sitting so vulgarly next to his wife, button-up shirt unbuttoned showing his white undershirt covering a pot belly only exaggerated by his overtly loud annoying American behavior earlier in the day. He tells of his new caregiving of their children and how his three year old sits with him watching portions of Roman Polanski and says, "But this is boring to me." He pauses with memory behind his eyes and hesitates in finishin the story. And I imagine he has a hand on her golden curls and is placing sweet kisses along her arm as she giggles.
"Incest, like pedophilia or bestiality or cannibalism are only taboos erected by social convention, always identifying with the victim. There is nothing inherently evil in them and any damage they might do is also socially constructed. In other words, he felt that they could only be damaging if you believed they were inherently evil. Why then succumb to such weakness? He felt that if Anaïs were to put this into her own words, she would support his explanation that this was something unique, a great sacrilege, a radical transgression of the forbidden. That was how it should be judged. Why impose conventional bourgeois sentiments upon it if that is what you think? Anglo-Saxon culture in particular had trouble understanding that blood is the most potent substance on the earth; Spanish culture understands it but rightly fears it; only French culture had learnt to understand it to some degree, which is why he chose to live in Paris."
There is sacredness to blood. I try to imagine what this means to Parisians and I'm afraid that I'm so far away from them that by the time I reach them, my time will be up and I will be without an EU citizenship to stay on to figure them out. "Rank concluded these fantasies produce three kinds of people: (1) the normal person who is able to deal with its implications and get on with life; (2) the neurotic, who requires psychoanalytic guidance; and (3) the artistic person who translates them into their writing. It was the third of these that Rank was interested in here."
Why the fuck am I here?
I have four red daisies in the middle of a white room. I am writing on an antique round table which can fit three or eight people. I have two tiny speakers begging and craving Louis Attaque to my heart. Elle est pas.
I have stumbled over my own desires. I am running to find someone, something and I am refraining from seeing things. I am told it is my own ignorance of myself that is blinding and beauty. I have no idea I am sexy. I keep aiming for it, thinking I'm failing and tryiing all the more harder. And yet, it is flypaper while I think it is bug repellent. Come together over me.
I am going to fail my economics exam. I am going to half-ass my law paper and I'm going to totally give a fuck on my statitics paper.
It is that dissentigration. I can't keep my hands out of my pants and I'm begging for a beating.
Remember that guy several years ago who wooed me when I was a drunkard? (If you're trustworthy I'll give you the passcode to CDOA v.2) And then we found each other again last year in Madison and he brought me a fishnet body suit and porn and then bored me over lunch? He's moving to Saudi Arabia for a big money making job and sent me all his porn. It's illegal over there. So I have a 2-foot tall stack of CDs of all kinds of porn on my counter top. And now he's asking to see me again. I am not an alter at which to be worshiped. I am not to be psychoanalyzed and told that my independence will let me down. I am not to be wooed with promises of comfort and seduction and ultimate pleasure.
I am to be broken.
I imagine there's an equally strong hand for my equally challenging ass.
It is true that confidence overwins any other default. Someone posted a simple ad on Craigslist/Paris looking for a girl who would be interested in bondage. I was bored, proscrastinating and sent a reply. He's a (struggling) fashion photographer who is attracted by Shibari. He's been in love with Japan and Paris. I was shy our first meeting at his place. He cut me short on the elongated, drawn-out email exchange I sometimes enjoy as foreplay. I thought we'd be going for the (new) Ang Lee movie but we ended up talking for hours. I was shy. He sat on a stool in his bedroom cum living room and squirmed. It's always odd to me when men squirm in front of me. Have they no idea that I'm pacing and trembling and cowering on the inside? I'm chalking his body twisting up to the fact that he hadn't smoked the maryjane in days and was without a contact. Not that it's addicting, mind you, but that he just felt even more microscoped without it. I was kind of burning him with my stares. (We all know that intensity only masks utter insecurity, right?) I was amazed by his arms. Ok, he said he was a rollerblader (which in this country isn't quite as lame as in the US, it's more of an alternate mode of transportation coupled with daring feat), but where did his arms come from? I'm a sucker for strong hands, but was keenly aware of his biceps for some reason. Perhaps it was the way he was dressed like Kerouac. Poor, artist, Henry Miller, wine, short on cash, all those things I had left behind.
"Most virtue is a demand for greater seduction." - Natalie Clifford Barney
So he sent in an email mentioning that next time he'd like have his way with me. I had wondered if I'd made any good impression at all. A million beautiful women in his apartment/studio. We kissed cheeks good-bye with a closer lip kiss on the second, and a second spread out between us when he leaned in and gave me a quick third kiss. Just like a playground, acceptance and maybe he likes me. I was convinced he'd have a girlfriend or wife or both and I'd just be a professional experience. And in the meantime, I suffer my hormones.
Disintigration into debasement.
Anais Nin fucked Henry Miller who fucked June (who needs no last name). But she also fucked her father at the suggestion (perhaps) of her psychoanalyst who also fucked her in order to replace her obsession with her father. While unethical it worked and she wa able to leave him. I wrote a paper in the 8th grade on Munchausen Syndrome and child abuse. I'm not sure how much I plagerized but it wasn't all me. In 7th grade I convinced my Mormon science lab partner to do our student project on viscosity of liquids and we won. But I've never eagerly or voluntarily fucked my parent. That's a feat I don't know I could do. Although it is, as James pointed out, the ultimate taboo and I am probably only attracted to it because it's so wrong.
"i am and i still don't get it. those words don't seem like you - which means i still don't get you. ........ i don't mind being reduced to similar to other people so i hope you dont mind if i try to generalize you. but i know guys like you. successful, driven, workaholic, etc and i've yet to meet one who doesn't want it the other way - to be dominated as opposed to dominate. to have a wifey and kids at home and a mistress in boots telling him what to do sexually. so 'power. domination. control.' they seem foreign coming from "you," i guess."
"I'm never predictable. Give me a chance.
"No, I think you're completely wrong. I've been forced to be that mold that you speak of - by my core, my true being is to be hedonistic, to be pleasure seeking, to be athoritative in my true wants and desires. Let me be so to you. Let me show you what it's like to be with a man who knows what he wants, knows how he wants it, yet know how to bring along a partner to get him to that point. Fuck. Fun. Power share. Sexual pleasure. Real life. Give up to me. Let me have you. Comfort in my desire.
"Be yourself, yet be mine. It's not confusing - think of me as something different than you've experienced. Think of me as your protector and as your safe harbour. Where you can lay down your guard and submit to letting your pleasure be fulfilled. Trust me and you'll be free. Trust me and you'll have your shelter. Your sexuality will bloom. You have never never felt such happiness.
"Lola:
But ultimately, I'm not trying to analyze you. I just want to get you naked, fuck you hard, and want you to want more. If you're hooked, and if somehow you end up wanting to see me again and again- then I'm happy wit whatever result comes from that.
It' simple. Bodies first, minds maybe later.
It's hard for you - I know. We need to spend some time. You still don't trust me."
It's seductive to offer me things like hearts and comfort and power. As seductive as truth:
"I would appreciate to know you better and i propose you to check if we could fit for you to become my casual toy for some plays and driving.
I wont be long this time as i know i have 99 chance on 100 to get deleted without even have been read.
I am wise and have a very good imagination. You are right the brain is the biggest sex organ of the body. Driving your brain correctly will provide you safety, extasy, fulfilment and deep emotions.
I am a cary man with a good knowledge and i see in bdsm quite a spiritual way.
If interested in further talks let me know.
Wish you happy and safe
With respect [name]"
I'm vulnerable right now. I'm aware of this which is good and necessary. But I am primed after such a long time without my needs met. Sure, I've been getting cock since I got here (thank the gods!), but meeting bare necessities for a highly sexed girl like me doesn't do much but tease. I could very easily fall for an for a casual encounter on Craigslist or a tempting invitation to use my body. And in other parallel universes my body isn't caged and I'm doing these things. And in those parallel universes I am asking first and then, once I've found my voice, insisting I am paid.
I have these thoughts so many times a day. I watched the madam pace up the corner of the block yesterday. I had a short class, stopped by Demonia to browse the sales, and decided to eat a late lunch at the cafe on Pigalle. I've seen this woman so many times as I round the corner from the metro down the walk to my apartment. She's always looking the same way. About 5'3", black dyed hair pulled back in a slick ponytail, a face with a bit of Eastern European roundness but Italian fire in her eyes. A kind of black bomber jacket with fur-lined hood that is long enough to cover her ass, black pants, black casual sneakers. She looks like she could be your sister or a waitress on a smoke break or a tour guide, but instead she tries to entice men - gently, which is refreshing to see - to go into a club around the corner. We've made eye contact on a few times but me sitting in the cafe gave us both a better chance to eye each other up. So, later last night, when I was off to the bondage soiree, pigtails and heels covered up under my long coat, we made eyes in one of those 2 seconds seems like forever stares and we *knew*. I have deep dreams that she stops me next time and suggests I be the English-speaking escort at her bar. I am so close to the edge of exploring this world but ... hahahah... lord, my morals or fear are holding me back. I certainly don't want to be stupid about this, but I wouldn't mind using my god-given talents to earn a few Euros. I'd be so damn good at it too.
I'm reading "The Prince" by Machiavelli on the metro lately. I read it all the way down to the bondage soiree to be there at 11pm to meet Wilfried & Sarah and friends. I had written down the wrong number on the street. I was sweating on the metro in my corset. I read the book all the way back up the metro. It wasn't a night blown, but it was a "stupidity tax" as BadMan put it.
I'm taking up a French-English language exchange and had my first meeting today. I think it will be impossible as it's supposed to be with the husband of my pregnant colleague. He smells like need and I smell like desire and she smells like ... a bubble. It's dangerous. I could already tell. Despite her presence today, I couldn't help but giggle and do that weird accidental deep looking into his eyes. I just don't think there's a single way for me to live another way. Everyone is sexual to me, every object is something I'd like to shove into my mouth or cunnie.
Disentigration.
Man, I want a cigarette.
"Paris was pulsing away in Anaïs’ bloodstream well before she began her strange flirtation with Antonin Artaud. What Anaïs wanted was to provoke a crisis in herself: an excess of men, all blurring together into a dramatic apotheosis."
with help from Sexual Fables
Thursday, January 10, 2008
It's still Happy New Year
I really need to get the video up. I went to town on the short video clip from up on the roof at midnight. It seemed like the Eiffel was a lot closer than it is in the tiny window now. Anyway. Completely uneventful and I was on my own - exactly how I wanted it. And, only you, dear reader will get the full scoop.
But this all has to be super quick because I said 'no' to a phone call from James a few days ago when I was in a run on the papers and I told him I had not even 10 minutes for a conversation. I forget that I can be biting, rude, and an awful person when I'm PMSd and under time pressure. This is not a good personality to shop around for an international job. I need to be more friendly and forget myself. I've always said this and it'll never change. Ok. ... sorry, James.
Then again, this is the first break I've given myself since, essentially, this past Saturday night, Jan 5th. Since then I've been reading, writing, going to class. Literally getting home at 8:30p/9p to make a quick dinner while I read more and then wrote until midnight. Then, up at 6am or 7am for another full day of the same. Add to that PMS fat bitchy girl who wants to crush heads and has no patience. Yup, I'm a nice package.
Anyway. This is my break and I'm going to enjoy it.
Yes, literally. Monday-Thursday up at 6/7am and working non-stop until midnight. Ok, maybe for occassional breaks to goof off on Facebook, but jesus - I'd go insane if I didn't look elswewhere once in a while.
So, I bought 2 bottles of Champagne. Yes, I should have explored a bit but I went for an old standard of Cliquot and a new friend of something else that is currently over there in the cupboard waiting for recycling. (Which they don't really do in this country which worries me to no end.) I had a good meal and started drinking at 8pm. Basically I wrote a bit of work until I couldn't any longer and then switched to surfing the 'net for jobs, information, new things. It's a big wide huge world out there behind this flat screen. I read so many new fun things. Then, I climbed up on the roof at about 11:30pm. The unknown first bottle was almost cashed except for a bit I mixed into a plastic bottle to climb up to the roof. Totally horrible if any French person caught me: champagne in a bottle AND mixed! But see, I thought the climb to the roof was going to be like climbing one of those challenges in Fear Factor where not only is is sloped and possibly slippery, but also way way above ground with chances of falling to my death equal to 100%. I put a few things into a backpack, got bundled up and headed off on the adventure... the adventure that took 2 seconds with no difficulty or fear at all. Chalk it up to the fact that it's extremely easy to get up there and I had drunk a bottle of champagne.
It was indeed very nice up there. The wind was blowing, I think. The view was pitch black except for the sporadic fireworks all over the circumference of my existence. I don't remember much else except being very giddy and surprised into happiness when the Eiffel all of a sudden lit up in sparkling lights and I knew it was midnight. Frankly, I don't even remember if I said anything or thought anything profound or made any wishes. There goes the superstition I guess.
I climbed back down, which again didn't seem scary or hard at all. Kind of bored, I decided to go check out the world downstairs on the street. All I remember is walking up to the top of my street where the Moulin Rouge is and seeing more people in the street than I've ever seen before. They weren't all congregated together in a crowd, but moving, walking, grouping, separating, streaming. I think all traffic had been stopped or ended or blocked or something because there wasn't any, and people were walking all over the street. I had to lean up against the giant neighborhood map to stay upright as all of a sudden the champagne just really hit me and put me into a huge dream stream, not drowning but slowly bobbing or drifting in a dirty, busy aquarium. Some guy talked to me and I said I don't speak French so he switched to English. He might have been cute. I lied and said my friends were 'over there' and I think I basically walked away from him once I realized I couldn't quite see straight and needed to go home.
Yeah. I had to. I had to because I was dizzy and spinning and knew if I tried to lay down it would have been the death of me. So, up and out came the lovely spaghetti and bubbly champagne. I think I took a sleeping pill and went to sleep.
Hm.
Kind of pathetic. Kind of sweet. Kind of lame. Kind of weird. Kind of very appropriate.
I woke up happy and alert and started working on my papers again.
Wednesday and Thursday I went to school. Much easier to write there than at my apartment where I think about cleaning, surfing, singing, and playing with myself.
Friday I just couldn't get up out of bed earlier than 10am so I lazed all day and got some hardcore writing done and then met the young French-Canadian, JC, down at The Canadian Pub over on the Seine because the USA was playing Canada in junior hockey or something. Of course, what do you think I am a moron? Of course, I agonized whether to go or not. After all, I'm old and I know I don't like sports unless they're live and in front of me - and even then, I don't like them unless I get a press pass to the floor where sweat flies all over me and there's a great likelihood that a huge tight end might land on top of me. But really, I didn't party at New Years. And he used to play on this team. And I had nothing else to do. And I could tell, because I was once 23 and wrote my emails in a passive-agressive wishful way like no really I don't have to go but the address is such and such. And the conversation was forced and we really have nothing in common or even anything interesting to share. It's all a falsehood between civilized and fucking. But we did leave the Pub and go to a cool club where all the nouveau punks go, and met up with some of my colleagues who ended being one of my colleagues since the others ditched out to go home and fuck -- leaving 2 out-of-town friends from California and Alaska with us. And, we did go to the pool hall and play some nice rounds. But the drinks weren't stiff and I didn't get drunk and I wanted him to touch me because I was a bit buzzed and he just seemed very far and very uninterested.
And the sex wasn't all that either. The last time we fucked the futon creaked and screeched and the small bed slide across the wood floor. And I think, when he wanted to do it, he said, "Let's dance." Not like David Bowie. More like "Swingers" on Ice. This time it was awkward and I had to roll over and do it. And - god I'm horrible - there wasn't much to do. He's a tall boy for such disproportions. Sigh. But he did let me cum first and he did pant, "It feels so good... so good..." which makes me grateful for kegel exercises and my resiliance in youth.
I couldn't sleep any longer and I wanted to go get lunch together, but he was confused and didn't understand and left almost immediately on a very grey, very rainy day. I hope he didn't go home feeling dirty and lonely and achy because I know those mornings, too, and that's not what I wanted.
I had some really good Greek pita sandwich on a bench in the drizzle on the island on Blvd de Clichy. Tourists still travel in winter. It's amazing.
My landlord and I went shopping for sheets, pillows, a new white comforter ("White, like a virgin," he joked. Oh, I never told you. After Nuit Demonia he came over for something.. to see or do something. And the rubber clothes were out drying from being cleaned and moisturized or whatever I did to them - Wilfried? So, the landlord saw and now knows that I'm a sub. He even joked about me giving up the bedspread to my guests because I was the sub and had to sleep like a doggie. He's very cool and funny and honest and nice. ... no, I don't want to fuck him. Really. ... no, really.) It was fun. He bikes everywhere so we started walking down Rue Blanche alongside his bike and then he suggested I get on back. So, I sat side-saddle on the rack on the back of his tire. I think the last time I shared a ride or got 'pumped' (isn't that what they call it where you sit on the seat and the other person pumps the pedals without sitting the whole way?), was definitely more than 8 years ago. I swear I thought I was going to die - for no reason other than it's fun to think that, like on a rollercoaster - and I had a smile the whole way down the hill. It was so much fun and I wanted to do more, go faster, go again!
And then. This week from hell.
I don't mean to be a bitch but I really wish everyone would leave me alone and would stop acting so damn relaxed about all the papers they have to write because this is their second Masters program. And, man, was it a blow to my ego when I heard this 2nd year student had written her paper on a very similar topic. She sent it to me and while I was happy to receive it and glanced at it, it's totally not a good idea at all to read it very closely. It'll just worry me and make me want to plagerize.
So, that's that. And some guy from Denmark wants to come visit me at the end of the month. We were chatting on OKcupid.com for a while and seemed to strike a similar kinky chord. But there's no way I can entertain more than I am this month with friends coming to visit over my holiday and 2 papers due at the beginning of February, an exam at the end of January, and books and articles I should read before our trip to India. Yeah, it's pretty cool to have a field trip thrown into my education. It's fucking expensive. But that's one of my resolutions - not to think about the cost of my education. I had a panic 2 days ago when I heard from another colleague from the US who is applying for the dual-degree program at Columbia next year. We're offered the opportunity to apply to Columbia, London School of Econ, Herttie in Berlin, or Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore for our second year. I've professed the whole time since accepting this program that I'd stay for 2 years and become fluent in French. But the money! The money drives me crazy. This is my first experience with major debt (the most I ever owed was $1000 and James helped me get rid of that rather quickly). These two years will be the equivalent to me buying a decent house in Madison. Except the house is in my brain. God help me if I get brain cancer. ... I never wanted to own a real house anyway. I'm too transient. So this makes sense, but going back to the US makes some sense, too.
Ugh. I just have to suck it up and know that God has a plan for me.
Hahahahahhaa... fooled you!
Ok, now I'm just typing gibberish to avoid papers.
Happy fucking New Year!
Bonne année!!
But this all has to be super quick because I said 'no' to a phone call from James a few days ago when I was in a run on the papers and I told him I had not even 10 minutes for a conversation. I forget that I can be biting, rude, and an awful person when I'm PMSd and under time pressure. This is not a good personality to shop around for an international job. I need to be more friendly and forget myself. I've always said this and it'll never change. Ok. ... sorry, James.
Then again, this is the first break I've given myself since, essentially, this past Saturday night, Jan 5th. Since then I've been reading, writing, going to class. Literally getting home at 8:30p/9p to make a quick dinner while I read more and then wrote until midnight. Then, up at 6am or 7am for another full day of the same. Add to that PMS fat bitchy girl who wants to crush heads and has no patience. Yup, I'm a nice package.
Anyway. This is my break and I'm going to enjoy it.
Yes, literally. Monday-Thursday up at 6/7am and working non-stop until midnight. Ok, maybe for occassional breaks to goof off on Facebook, but jesus - I'd go insane if I didn't look elswewhere once in a while.
So, I bought 2 bottles of Champagne. Yes, I should have explored a bit but I went for an old standard of Cliquot and a new friend of something else that is currently over there in the cupboard waiting for recycling. (Which they don't really do in this country which worries me to no end.) I had a good meal and started drinking at 8pm. Basically I wrote a bit of work until I couldn't any longer and then switched to surfing the 'net for jobs, information, new things. It's a big wide huge world out there behind this flat screen. I read so many new fun things. Then, I climbed up on the roof at about 11:30pm. The unknown first bottle was almost cashed except for a bit I mixed into a plastic bottle to climb up to the roof. Totally horrible if any French person caught me: champagne in a bottle AND mixed! But see, I thought the climb to the roof was going to be like climbing one of those challenges in Fear Factor where not only is is sloped and possibly slippery, but also way way above ground with chances of falling to my death equal to 100%. I put a few things into a backpack, got bundled up and headed off on the adventure... the adventure that took 2 seconds with no difficulty or fear at all. Chalk it up to the fact that it's extremely easy to get up there and I had drunk a bottle of champagne.
It was indeed very nice up there. The wind was blowing, I think. The view was pitch black except for the sporadic fireworks all over the circumference of my existence. I don't remember much else except being very giddy and surprised into happiness when the Eiffel all of a sudden lit up in sparkling lights and I knew it was midnight. Frankly, I don't even remember if I said anything or thought anything profound or made any wishes. There goes the superstition I guess.
I climbed back down, which again didn't seem scary or hard at all. Kind of bored, I decided to go check out the world downstairs on the street. All I remember is walking up to the top of my street where the Moulin Rouge is and seeing more people in the street than I've ever seen before. They weren't all congregated together in a crowd, but moving, walking, grouping, separating, streaming. I think all traffic had been stopped or ended or blocked or something because there wasn't any, and people were walking all over the street. I had to lean up against the giant neighborhood map to stay upright as all of a sudden the champagne just really hit me and put me into a huge dream stream, not drowning but slowly bobbing or drifting in a dirty, busy aquarium. Some guy talked to me and I said I don't speak French so he switched to English. He might have been cute. I lied and said my friends were 'over there' and I think I basically walked away from him once I realized I couldn't quite see straight and needed to go home.
Yeah. I had to. I had to because I was dizzy and spinning and knew if I tried to lay down it would have been the death of me. So, up and out came the lovely spaghetti and bubbly champagne. I think I took a sleeping pill and went to sleep.
Hm.
Kind of pathetic. Kind of sweet. Kind of lame. Kind of weird. Kind of very appropriate.
I woke up happy and alert and started working on my papers again.
Wednesday and Thursday I went to school. Much easier to write there than at my apartment where I think about cleaning, surfing, singing, and playing with myself.
Friday I just couldn't get up out of bed earlier than 10am so I lazed all day and got some hardcore writing done and then met the young French-Canadian, JC, down at The Canadian Pub over on the Seine because the USA was playing Canada in junior hockey or something. Of course, what do you think I am a moron? Of course, I agonized whether to go or not. After all, I'm old and I know I don't like sports unless they're live and in front of me - and even then, I don't like them unless I get a press pass to the floor where sweat flies all over me and there's a great likelihood that a huge tight end might land on top of me. But really, I didn't party at New Years. And he used to play on this team. And I had nothing else to do. And I could tell, because I was once 23 and wrote my emails in a passive-agressive wishful way like no really I don't have to go but the address is such and such. And the conversation was forced and we really have nothing in common or even anything interesting to share. It's all a falsehood between civilized and fucking. But we did leave the Pub and go to a cool club where all the nouveau punks go, and met up with some of my colleagues who ended being one of my colleagues since the others ditched out to go home and fuck -- leaving 2 out-of-town friends from California and Alaska with us. And, we did go to the pool hall and play some nice rounds. But the drinks weren't stiff and I didn't get drunk and I wanted him to touch me because I was a bit buzzed and he just seemed very far and very uninterested.
And the sex wasn't all that either. The last time we fucked the futon creaked and screeched and the small bed slide across the wood floor. And I think, when he wanted to do it, he said, "Let's dance." Not like David Bowie. More like "Swingers" on Ice. This time it was awkward and I had to roll over and do it. And - god I'm horrible - there wasn't much to do. He's a tall boy for such disproportions. Sigh. But he did let me cum first and he did pant, "It feels so good... so good..." which makes me grateful for kegel exercises and my resiliance in youth.
I couldn't sleep any longer and I wanted to go get lunch together, but he was confused and didn't understand and left almost immediately on a very grey, very rainy day. I hope he didn't go home feeling dirty and lonely and achy because I know those mornings, too, and that's not what I wanted.
I had some really good Greek pita sandwich on a bench in the drizzle on the island on Blvd de Clichy. Tourists still travel in winter. It's amazing.
My landlord and I went shopping for sheets, pillows, a new white comforter ("White, like a virgin," he joked. Oh, I never told you. After Nuit Demonia he came over for something.. to see or do something. And the rubber clothes were out drying from being cleaned and moisturized or whatever I did to them - Wilfried? So, the landlord saw and now knows that I'm a sub. He even joked about me giving up the bedspread to my guests because I was the sub and had to sleep like a doggie. He's very cool and funny and honest and nice. ... no, I don't want to fuck him. Really. ... no, really.) It was fun. He bikes everywhere so we started walking down Rue Blanche alongside his bike and then he suggested I get on back. So, I sat side-saddle on the rack on the back of his tire. I think the last time I shared a ride or got 'pumped' (isn't that what they call it where you sit on the seat and the other person pumps the pedals without sitting the whole way?), was definitely more than 8 years ago. I swear I thought I was going to die - for no reason other than it's fun to think that, like on a rollercoaster - and I had a smile the whole way down the hill. It was so much fun and I wanted to do more, go faster, go again!
And then. This week from hell.
I don't mean to be a bitch but I really wish everyone would leave me alone and would stop acting so damn relaxed about all the papers they have to write because this is their second Masters program. And, man, was it a blow to my ego when I heard this 2nd year student had written her paper on a very similar topic. She sent it to me and while I was happy to receive it and glanced at it, it's totally not a good idea at all to read it very closely. It'll just worry me and make me want to plagerize.
So, that's that. And some guy from Denmark wants to come visit me at the end of the month. We were chatting on OKcupid.com for a while and seemed to strike a similar kinky chord. But there's no way I can entertain more than I am this month with friends coming to visit over my holiday and 2 papers due at the beginning of February, an exam at the end of January, and books and articles I should read before our trip to India. Yeah, it's pretty cool to have a field trip thrown into my education. It's fucking expensive. But that's one of my resolutions - not to think about the cost of my education. I had a panic 2 days ago when I heard from another colleague from the US who is applying for the dual-degree program at Columbia next year. We're offered the opportunity to apply to Columbia, London School of Econ, Herttie in Berlin, or Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore for our second year. I've professed the whole time since accepting this program that I'd stay for 2 years and become fluent in French. But the money! The money drives me crazy. This is my first experience with major debt (the most I ever owed was $1000 and James helped me get rid of that rather quickly). These two years will be the equivalent to me buying a decent house in Madison. Except the house is in my brain. God help me if I get brain cancer. ... I never wanted to own a real house anyway. I'm too transient. So this makes sense, but going back to the US makes some sense, too.
Ugh. I just have to suck it up and know that God has a plan for me.
Hahahahahhaa... fooled you!
Ok, now I'm just typing gibberish to avoid papers.
Happy fucking New Year!
Bonne année!!
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