Happy Birthday to me!

October 25, 2006

Satan was, indeed, correct about it being my birthday. But where she got the adjective “glorious” to describe this day is entirely anyone’s guess. She, of all people, should recognize that my birthdays have never been much in the way of stellar. Or mediocre. Or even sub-average. At least not in the last 10 years.

Arwyn subscribes to the LL view that just because it is (insert momentous occasion here), don’t go assuming that there will be sex. In fact, it is far safer and less frustrating to assume there WILL NOT be sex. We would not want to cultivate anything resembling an attitude of entitlement, now would we?

This morning, I was greeted by my wife snaking her hands down my shorts and firmly grasping my morning erection. She whispered “Good morning” before tonguing my ear and draping a naked leg over me. After pulling my shorts down and off, she mounted me and whispered “Happy Birthday!”

“It definitely is now!” I half groan, quickly becoming more alert and my breathing quickly becoming jagged as she rocked her hips slowly, grinding me deeper into her.

Oh wait. That was a dream!

In reality, I was greeted to “Happy Birthdays” by Arwyn and the boys, but they were all in a rush to get to work and school. There was the goodbye/good morning kiss as Arwyn had already showered and dressed before I even woke up. It was a good dream.

Once at work, I was up to my eyeballs, with a brief acknowledgement of the day by my department and some co-workers but otherwise nothing too spectacular. No parties or anything like that, which would have just been embarrassing. It was a day where I was glad when it was over.

The boys were excited, mostly about getting to eat birthday cake and blowing out candles. They presented me with a new silk tie and some hand made cards that I’ll have to find a special place for.

After dinner, the boys were bathed, put in bed and then Arwyn ran to the store for milk. Then she spent time on the computer while I read a few blogs. Then my dad called to whish me a happy birthday and we talked for a couple of hours. By this time, Arwyn is long asleep.

Emily had asked about accepting a sort of servicing deal like she has going on, basically consisting of a handjob administered in a loving, sensual fashion. Fact is, I would do that and have subsisted on that sort of sexual diet before, only a much, much leaner version. Emily’s version of the encounter would be extravagant by comparison!

The reason I have not gone for the handjob these past 10 months is because they have become exercises in humiliation instead of some loving compromise or accommodation. I’ve asked Arwyn to at least strip down to her underwear for these sessions and she has refused. It is extraordinarily difficult being vulnerable around someone who is so unwilling to offer anything of the like from themselves.

In addition to insisting on being fully clothed, she has to have the towel right there. There is never any lubrication used. It goes thus:

I ask her if she could use her hands on me. This having to ask basically makes it all about me getting off, bereft of love or compassion. My thought is that she might do this just because she knows I enjoy it. But no. I feel like a chore.

She asks if I have the towel. It is up to me to obtain the hand towel and have it ready. She may assist in pulling my underwear off, but I had better otherwise be undressed and ready to go.

Once I am completely naked (and she is not even partially naked) she will lay with her head on my chest in a more conventional cuddle position, and begin stroking me. She has laid the towel out beneath my erect cock so it is ready to catch any offending fluids. Her strokes are quite purposeful and she is all about her task. She goes straight for getting me off. It usually doesn’t take very long as she has sort of trained me for getting off as fast as possible. She used to complain about how tired her hands were getting or her sore wrists. And it was true she had severe carpel tunnel before getting surgery a couple years ago. Her handjobs were actually a bit better then, because she would rest frequently which enabled me to ride the roller coaster longer. But she would quit if I took too long.

So she is stroking away. Sometimes she might watch TV but most times there is no sound or light save my own breathing which is becoming more shallow and ragged. When she feels me getting close she folds the towel up so that her hand and my cock are completely enclosed and she quickens her pace until I explode. My orgasms from her hands are quite strong, and she does “play through” by continuing to stroke me even past the point where it is pleasurable. I reach down to slow her furious strokes and she subsides and stops. She may keep her grip for a minute or two, and then wipe her hand off on the towel before going to the bathroom to scrub with soap and water. I am left to clean up with the towel before putting my shorts back on.

There is not a lot of talking before or after. At one point in our handjob sex life, we actually did talk during the procedure. It was often interesting because we would talk about mundane things while she was stroking me. The more mundane, the better as far as I was concerned. It could have helped me last longer except that the sound of her voice combined with the rasping, gasping of my own voice and breathing was such a turn-on for me!

Yeah, I get off on my own breathing.

When replaying the faded mental sexual tapes of past lovers, the breathing is one of the most vivid and erotic memories I have. I adore the sounds of a woman getting turned on and losing control. I truly miss the sound of a women getting aroused under my touch. Just the sound of her arousal might send me over the edge.

Arwyn rarely gives any auditory feedback. And I’m not a real vocal lover, myself. But talking pulls the curtain back and a body can hear the breathing become more shallow as arousal deepens. You can hear the quivers and the trembling in the voice that could otherwise be hidden in silence. So Gone often writes about how she enjoys talking during sex, or at least when her partner talks. It’s something I have only recently discovered, myself and I do think it is good to regulate the pace and flow of things. For me, the conversation does not have to be sexual or even intimate. Intimacy helps, but sex makes any conversation more palatable!LOL!

Getting back to wherever I was…

Where was I?

I could go for handjobs as the primary part of my sexual diet, but some effort needs to be expended to make the experience less humiliating and at the very least, more fun. I would like, Arwyn to find the time and effort worth while in some aspect. I would definitely like these sessions to last longer than 3-5 minutes. I would like more intimacy and some efforts at being more vulnerable. I’d like to not feel like a sexual pervert. As it is, I get off and then have all the emotional shit left over afterwards and it isn’t worth it. It’s a hell of a lot less effort, trouble and drama to get myself off and it seems that’s the way she prefers it.

I have no idea if it addresses any questions, but I think it turned out to be a pretty hot post.


What’s to like, apart from what I DO?

October 23, 2006

I’ve always hypothesized that anyone who is not too bright is not going to spend much time reading me. This is counter balanced by the fact that my readership has an odd streak. I see that as a good thing but various mental health professionals may see it as a potential revenue stream or symptoms of a deeper personality disorder.

Emily asked how Arwyn sees me, beyond what I DO. This is an interesting question, but difficult to answer since I can’t read her mind. But it might be profitable to guess, and then turn it around.

First off, Arwyn does regard me as a very moral person, personal kinks aside. She admired my Christian convictions, although there were and still are some contradictions betwixt typical evangelicals and where I was when we first met. Her family, while basically good, wholesome people were not regular church goers. At the time we met, this was quite important to her.

While my job is something I do, my work ethic is second to none. Seriously, this is what growing up on a farm does for a body. Being in pain, being in harsh weather, working under adverse conditions and doing it every single day; these are all things my suburban-raised brethren struggle mightily with. If I was running a large company, I would hire Midwest farm boys in a heartbeat, no matter what their skills. It’s harder to train an ethic than skills.

I suppose not being a drunk (like her father) falls under things I don’t do, but it was an important factor for her. How important intelligence was to her, I can only guess. I know she liked it, but over the years she’s become less impressed with my intelligence.

But let’s turn this around. How do I feel about Arwyn, aside from what she does? I think for many low libido women, this becomes a MAJOR sticking point. I have heard many women complain about feeling like they were simply some sort of receptacle or jack-off tool. I think Emily, herself, had such an experience. It’s more than possible for any person to feel objectified under certain circumstances. But I also think the feelings of being objectified reside squarely within the person who has the feelings, which is why The Work works for me by releasing me from the grip of those feelings by detaching from destructive thoughts and beliefs.

Arwyn has always been a fairly giving, gentle spirit. The giving part is much less apparent to me now, but she still remains a fairly gentle spirit. She is interested in spiritual things and is moral in her own right. She also has intelligence, but is much more of the emotional intelligent variety, especially when it comes to the children. Adult behaviors frustrate and baffle her, which is something we both have in common.

Arwyn’s avoiding nature is precisely one of the reasons why I chose her. She was not a confrontational, nagging shrew like so many other women I know. But she can’t help being a woman, meaning she simply chooses not to voice her constant worries and neurotic insecurities which are always present. My mistake was assuming they were absent when that was never the truth. A lot of my guy friends arrived at the same false conclusion, thinking she was the perfect woman who didn’t have all the hang-ups other women had. She looked like she had her shit together.

No one has their shit together. No. One. I can say that of guys as much as women just so it doesn’t seem like I’m picking on women. But I, with my left-brain superior thinking, really do think less of women for being a big mass of worry and insecurity. I’m not saying I’m right, but I’ll just throw my bias right out there instead of trying to dodge and hide.

So many of the problems we have originate in mistaken assumptions on my part. That is past assumptions and current ones. Again, my current bias probably has many holes and inaccuracies within. It causes some serious problems with my thinking and my actions.

Arwyn really is a lovely human being inside and out. My problem is giving her a chance to show that part of her. I know she does not pick up that vibe from me and is more apt to get the more sexist feelings that you’ve gotten out of me just now. I do a piss poor job of encouraging her, as I have kind of a dark and negative bent to my nature. It has gotten more difficult to love, honor and cherish her and I’m sure she often feels I’m fobbing her off. Talking with her requires a tremendous amount of energy and patience because it is not a straight-forward type of conversation. Most often, there is no point to it. There is no solution to find. It might even be a complaint with no solution. She’s just venting it out.

Trouble is, I am barely able to handle and process my own emotional waste. Now I have hers, too? I think this is why so many men turn down their wives and turn up the TV. We just get flooded by too much stuff and we’re unable to handle the emotional stuff. Conversation becomes a chore, a lot like sex is to many.

I’ll give a go at some other comments a bit later on the Blogger site.


Working on Sex

October 19, 2006

Let’s see if we can put a dent in an issue or two, using the cognitive tools I have at hand.  This is not easy, and whether any progress is made is up to me.  Totally. 


Before diving in, I need to say a couple of things.  One is an ongoing debate about whether or not blogging helps or hurts.  In my case, I think it has done both in fairly equal measures.  On one hand I’ve gotten many new stories to adopt or get attached to.  This is not altogether good.  But I have gotten many insightful, supportive or even critical comments that have gotten me to change my mind a time or two.  And sometimes that is good.


Make no mistake, there is a degree of accountability here, although perhaps not as much as one might find in a local support group.  But at the same time I’ve been able to share and vent here like I could no where else. 


Many folks have gone on ad nauseum about how they write for themselves and don’t care about who reads or comments.  And yet they still check their stats daily and check comments several times a day.  These people are delusional.  They need and adore the crowded mob.  I absolutely enjoy the adulation of my fans albeit in limited measure.  Too big of a crowd would frighten me away.  Seriously.  We can work on that later, but we need to work on SEX!


First let me set myself up.  The first step in The Work is to write a statement or passage that is as absolutely as judgmental and petty as possible.  There’s a female version of just this very thing on Katie’s blog.  So here goes…


Arwyn should want to have sex with me.  When I am ignored and rejected, I feel worthless and not valued as a person.  I wish she desired me more.  If she really wanted me, she would not put up so many obstacles in our sexual relationship.  She should not be so uptight, frigid and prudish.  She seems to not care about the suffering she is inflicting upon me.  I am angry that she uses the children as a shield and excuse to avoid my touch.  I hate and loathe the fact that she recoils in response to my touch.  Our marriage is withering on the vine and she is doing nothing about it.


I’m wondering…is this it? 


This is ample to start off.  I can add more later and more stuff can come up as I go through this.  And it could take awhile.  This the part where I write more for me than you.  But perhaps some of you can play along at home.  Write down what it is that is bugging you about your partner.  There is a form you can download just for this on thework.com.  Be judgmental, petty and above all, honest.  Anyone blogging along, we can help each other if we want.  It is crucial to write it down.  The mind is a treacherous thing and will betray you by hiding and slipping away.  Don’t play that! 


Now we can look at this bit by painful bit.  I could see some things coming even while writing.  So statement #1:

    Arwyn should want to have sex with me.


Is it true?


Heck yes!  I’m her husband for pete’s sake!  She absolutely should be wanting me!


Do I know with absolute certainty this is true?


Maybe not absolute certainty.  But this is not easily given up.  Who the hell gets married in order to be involuntarily celibate?


What’s the reality?  Suffering comes when our beliefs are at odds with reality.  Is she, is fact, wanting sex with me?


Um.  No.  Fact is, she is not indicating any desire whatsoever. 


How does thinking she should want sex with me make me feel?


My second statement above spells it out.  I feel resentful, worthless and not valued as a person.  Certainly not valued as a sexual person.


What if I could not think this thought?  Is there a constructive reason to hold on to the thought that Arwyn should want to have sex with me?


If I could not think this, if I gave up this belief, I sure would have a more difficult time being a victim.  And in fact, it is really not a true reflection of reality.  Still, it such a basic part of my story, it is most difficult to give it up. 


The next step in the process is turning the statement around.  Generally, making the statement say the opposite and turning it towards me are two ways of altering this statement to arrive at some alternate truths.


Arwyn should NOT want to have sex with me.


Is this statement as true as the opposite?


It certainly is closer to the reality that actually exists.  But it doesn’t make me feel any better.  Why? Hmmm…


Ah ha! Because there is an underlying belief driving this one that is worthy in examination that I did not see earlier.  Obvious to others maybe, but not to me.  If Arwyn does not want sex with me, she does not want ME.




Okay, that is a better statement to look at.  Originally, I would turn my original statement on myself to something like:


I should want sex with me. or I should want sex with Arwyn.


And I’m sure there is depth and virtue in examining the truth of those.  But I want that underlying belief:


If Arwyn does not want sex with me, she does not want me.


Or to put it another way, sexual rejection is equal to personal rejection.  And it’s hard getting more personal than “Having sex with you makes my skin crawl!”



So is it true?  No, at least not totally because the reality is that she accepts many other parts of me.  My money, my cooking ability, my time, my ability as a parent or my ability to do all things in the yard.  So whatever rejection that there is is not total by any means.  It is just this one thing.  It is a big thing to me, but seemingly not to her.  Or maybe iit is just too big for her.


Moving on…


What if I could let go of that thought: rejecting me sexually = rejecting me totally?


Well, that would free me up from some worry and the weight of total rejection.  As you can see, my false belief is predicated on a total lie.  Arwyn does not reject me totally, and it is unlikely that she ever would. 


Let’s turn and twist this statement around.  Brace yourself…


If Arwyn does not want sex with me, she wants ME.


Hmmm.  I have no concrete evidence of this, but perhaps if she thinks sex is a dirty, shallow activity, it might follow that she wants something that transcends the physical.  But I make no assumptions.  This statement has potential and maybe I need to work more on it.  Here’s another turn-around…


If Arwyn does not want sex with me, I don’t want HER.


That definitely cuts deep because there is such a resonating truth there.  It has been so difficult to move past this level and type of deprivation, that I do not always treat Arwyn very well.  Why?




Well there’s the payoff for my false belief!


If Arwyn does not want me or love me as demonstrated by zero sexual interest, I am entirely justified in my poor behavior.  Who would blame me for going to porn, checking out other women or having an affair?  I feel entirely justified in my anger, sadness and sorrow.  But the truth is that it is all entirely of my own making. 


Okay.  I have some deeper issues here.  Before moving on, I’m going to point out something that should be obvious, but let’s come out and say it.  I’m using my own steam, sort of, in noodling this out.  I working The Work and sorting my own mess, here.  When Byron Katie goes through the work with someone, she uses this basic framework of inquirery.  She is not doing anything but asking those 4 questions and working the turn-around statements.  She came through this on her own steam and has helped others over many years.


I made reference to Albert Ellis and REBT earlier.  I need to also reference Joyce Meyer and Battle Field of the Mind as something that is also congruent with these same ideas but from a scriptural/Christian perspective.  I have her book and workbook but just haven’t gotten around to going through the whole thing, yet.


Okay, there is more work to do, but I have a nagging feeling that this is not very exciting for a reader.  I’ll keep working but decide whether to keep posting this stuff later.  It’s just me rattling around inside my head, and I’m uncertain as to why anyone would be interested in it.  I do have a couple other issues and things worth blogging about, but this is what I had promised so I’ll deliver this much. 




October 17, 2006

Again, I’m amazed anyone actually reads this.  So I’ll go ahead and continue only in a more positive direction…


When a body begins doing The Work, sophistication gives way to simplicity and reality exists in the here and now.  Pleasure is more likely to be found it the mundane, or at least acceptance is a touch easier.


For instance, a couple of things that have become more major irritants are the fact that Arwyn doesn’t cook and doesn’t even do much cleaning in the kitchen.  Her involvement with food is putting it into her mouth.  The clutter and mess around the sink was driving me mad, because there was no space to prepare food.


Cooking is one of those mundane things I do that actually does help center me as much as anything else.  There is nothing that can yank a body immediately into the moment like the chemical reaction that produces sulfuric acid in your eyes while chopping onions.


But before I could get to the onion chopping, there was this huge mess in the kitchen.  The same work I did over Arwyn’s cooking now applied to her doing dishes.  Early in our marriage we had an agreement that I would cook and Arwyn would clean.  This seemed fair to me, since she said she would rather clean than cook.  So yes, it might seem very unfair of me to grouse about her not cooking now.  But she has not held up her cleaning part of the bargain, either.


So, Saturday I said “Fuck it” and did the dishes.  That meant emptying the dishwasher, filling it back up, starting it, and then finishing the rest by hand in the sink.  While Arwyn played spider solitaire on the computer.  I knew my attitude was going bad, so I worked over the statement, “Arwyn should do the dishes!”  And in short order, it was apparent that if I wanted to exercise my right to live in a cleaner house, I needed to clean it. Myself.  So I did.  And then I made a few dozen cookies and some home made baked beans.  Then I cleaned up after that.  The boys wanted to go outside, so I told them they had to clean their playroom, first which they did.  Then the boys and I went for a long hike in the woods which was a lot of fun and an adventure they talked about the rest of the weekend.


I have a lot more work to do on my attitude.  Arwyn has disappointed me in so many ways so many times.  That is more my problem than hers, and I need to clear that away so I can move on.  Those expectations were mine, and I need to own up to them.


One of the more puzzling things Byron Katie says about marriage is that it only takes one person to have a good marriage.  In other words, I can have a good marriage (or not) independent of what Arwyn does.  There might be mitigating circumstances but mine is not one of them.  So once I post this, I’ll see about doing the work on one of the bigger, more persistent issues I’ve been kicking around: sex.




A Little Angina Never Hurt Nobody

October 15, 2006

 This is actually part of one of those triple posts I occasionally do, where each of my blogs contribute a little different angle on one subject.  I’m okay, really.  I almost thought about letting the whole group of posts languish in my private little blog bone yard, where I put all the posts that never get published.  This one is just a bit of a health post but loosely follows the posts on Unsolicited Advice and my Blogger version of this Site.


I actually need to scale back the garlic a bit.  That tightness in the chest just has to be heartburn.


At times like this, when the shadow of ones mortality begins to loom larger, a body begins to think.  What exactly are my big stressors?  How do I deal with them?  Am I a heart attack just waiting to happen?


Physically, I’ve never thought of myself as anything other than average.  6’2″, 225 lbs give or take a few, 43 years old.  My blood pressure was good just 3 months ago.  No other major problems, except my knees are not what they used to be.  I have been essentially smoke free for over 4 months and have not put on any weight. 


My work has times of stress, but whose doesn’t?  I feel valued and competent and am generally respected  and supported by coworkers and supervisors.  I enjoy my work and there are times I would rather be there than home.


When I look at all of the major stressors in most people’s lives, I don’t have all that many.  I do have children with exceptionalities which does add to stress and chaos, but even this is overshadowed by the big one.  The single biggest source of stress is my failing marriage.


Actually, being avoiders, we are not stressing each other very much directly.  However, the big huge downside of the whole avoider dynamic is the internalization of stress and tension.  Coupled with the desolation of zero physical intimacy, and every bloody thing is compounded like debt upon debt and paying interest on interest.  I am this highly charged scorpio who has been pinned down and boxed in.  While solo sex provides a mediocre amount of expression, it is far, far from satisfactory.


Bliatz has been opining a bit about the clashing libido struggle.  She’s very sexy and quite sexual but inside of her there seems to be a LL woman fighting to get out.  She tells a little about her reasons for not being in the mood for sex.  Among these reasons is stress.


This is a key difference between people with higher libidos and those with low libidos.  In fact, it is a core feature of this conflict.  For me, sex is a means for REDUCING stress!  For me, it is the perfect antidote for stress, sickness, fatigue and discomfort of every kind.  For a person with low or no libido, sex is a SOURCE of stress, sickness, fatigue, and discomfort of various kinds.  If a LL person is feeling any of the above symptoms, sex is the first thing they go off.  


Before plumbing deeper into this, I do have a few other issues which contribute to any hypertension I might be experiencing that need mentioning.  One is the fact that internalizing is simply how I deal with issues like anger and conflict.  I am not a type ‘A’ personality, but maybe this type who is disguised.  If you look at me, I am the picture of poise, confidence, calmness and serenity while waiting in the long checkout at the Super Wal-Mart.  But inside, I am a roiling inferno of hostility, bitterness and resentment.  I am the lone island in a sea of incompetence, idiocy and madness.  Every person in front of me, and most of those behind me, are enemies bent on getting in my way and making my life harder than it needs to be.  My ugly racist, sexist, evil, homicidal internal monstrous rage bounces and burns within my belly.  Meanwhile, I am smiling on the outside.  Nothing but pleasantness.


Talk about a fountain of poisonous bile!  I wish it were not so, but within me there is a monster who never sleeps.


Which leads to the other mitigating factor, which is lack of sleep.  I just haven’t been getting enough, averaging less than 5 hours per night.  Some of it is blogging.  More of it is playing certain computer games.  I do get tired late afternoons, but by 10 I am still not ready to go to bed.  This became more and more of a trend even while locked in the cage.


Fact is, computer games and blogging are escapes for me.  Some prefer TV and I can do that as well as the next person, but it isn’t a top choice.  I’m more into using my brains which reading, writing and playing allow.


But I’ve been doing other reading and found there was a definite link between too little sleep and heart disease.  Which adds more stress.


So dealing with stress; I’m not much for dealing at all.  I’ll escape, avoid and hide from it long before I actually deal.  That’s probably not too healthy, is it?  I guess I just see the things I don’t do.  I don’t use drugs or alcohol.  I’ve ditched the smokes.  I don’t scream, yell or punch holes in the wall.


Food is a vulnerability but I’ve been controlling that.  I’ve discovered air popped popcorn without anything extra on it actually helps with the whole oral  fixation thing which is a greater need than actual taste and with few calories and a lot of fiber. 


So I’m not doing a lot of things wrong.  I don’t have a family history of heart disease.  But there are risk factors.  Of course, I could die in a car wreck, get cancer or some other fatal disease or accident or condition.  None of us is going to be around forever.  We don’t want to think about our mortality, but it exists.



I have no idea what to do with this post except finish it and stop here.  I’ll slap it up but I’m moving to a different page.




Writing Myself into a Funk

October 13, 2006

I love my wife, but lately I feel like living  with her is killing me.  Really.  I’m not quite where Dewdrop was in a post of hers, but close enough.  I’m a person who thrives off of affection, especially of the adult, reciprocal physical variety.  And I am getting nothing here.  Zilch.  Since giving up smoking, blogging has become a primary outlet but I’m not sure I do that good of a job of venting here.  It is certainly no substitute for the whole cuddling/holding/hugging one-flesh thing I so crave.

Not that there’s anything to it, but I do seem to have the whole scorpio thing going.  And I am not a very happy little pincher.  I am sure I am not being remotely romantic enough for Arwyn to even consider having anything like physical affection for me.

I’ve started another, longer post on the subject and am not sure what I’ll do with it as it takes turns I’d rather not take.  But I do see my mortality, and I am more okay with it than maybe I ought to be.  So, yeah, I am closer to Dewdrop (even though from opposite ends of this) in that way.  If God wants me, He knows where to find me.  I’d like to be there for my boys as they grow up but I’m willing to submit to God’s superior care and judgement in such things.  I’m also willing to stay if that is what I’m supposed to be doing.  No problems there, except I am not very happy and certainly not thriving here.

Unlike Dewdrop, I could see myself thriving in a certain type of marriage, but maybe I’m just more naive than she is.  Maybe I’m just dreaming.  I think my attitude has more to do with it than anything and right now, it is kind of crappy.  Like Emily, I long for so many other things:

– Someone capable of paying her own bills

– Someone just a bit more organized

– Someone just a bit more romantic

– someone who can do a bit more cooking

– Somone who would be happy with a bit more loving

– Someone who appreciated my oral fixation for the potential it holds

-Someone with a bit more sensuality

I don’t excel at any of those things (except the oral fixation, and I do need more practice) but I have SOME limited capacity in each.  Arwyn has little to none with less interest in developing these.  Like some of the women I read, I feel like I very much am supporting and nurtering another dependent who has more in common with the children than an independent adult.  I am okay doing things for her much of the time.  Cooking; okay.  Paying bills; okay.  Holding a job; okay.  But I need to be lifted now and then and supported now and then in my own way.  And I do not feel supported.  I feel undermined.  I feel abandoned.  I feel like I carry all of the responsibility with few benefits.

My days on this earth are numbered and as morbid as it sounds, I am glad of it.  I will do the best I can for as long as I can while I am here.  I’ll make the best of it.  But Earth has not been a happy place for me.  I may yet change my mind but at this point in time, I’m not taking extraordinary steps to cling to it.  I’ll stay fot enough to do what must be done. I will do my duty and perform with honor.     It may sound pathetic, but I’m just going to vent my spleen here for a bit.  I commented awhile back on Emily’s blog about suffering and I’m still mulling over a post on that subject.

To my mind, Earth was created for people but people have ruined it.  We have shit our own nest, as it were.  There is no way Earth can ever be anyting other than a hellish place simply because it is infested with too many of US!  Petty, whining, petulant, selfish beings.  I do not like this side of myself by any means.  But it’s there, and it exists in all of us.  Being bound in the mortal coil, to me, is not the final ting.  I look forward to a Heavenly existance free of selfishness and want.  I don’t want to want.  I don’t want to need.    But I do.  Starvation is not a pretty way to go, but I have heard it said from those who might know that the body begins to shut down and cut itself off from actual pain and suffering.  In the case of Terry Schaivo, she may have not suffered so much and I pray she did not.  That does not make starving another human being a humane thing to do, though.

My Birthday is in 11 days. Each year I look forward to it less and less as the past ones get worse and worse.  Take a look at the archive if you don’t believe me.


Alive and OUT!

October 11, 2006




It’s time for an update, isn’t it?


I dropped off late Friday, and on Saturday morning, Satan made good on her keyholding by giving me the keyword.  (Happy anniversary, BTW, Satan! Boy oh boy, it felt good to get the cage OFF and be able to stretch OUT! 


17 days is a personal record, so those wondering about that, I did make it.  The first orgasm of the month was nothing terribly sensuous as I was just exceedingly anxious to make sure everything still worked!  So far so good.  Arwyn took the boys to visit Gina at her new place, so I had the afternoon and most of the evening to myself.  This time, I was able to spend a bit more time with myself and it was a very welcome relief.


From that point, I needed to take a bit of a blogging break as things had been pretty intense for awhile.  So basically this would be whatever rebound effect that takes place.  Being locked up can be an intense thing, for good or ill.  The rebound is a major letdown of all that build-up. 


Hopefully I’ll get back to my old, snarky, condescending prick self soon enough, and we can continue to have adventures together you and I.  In the meantime, I’ll see if I can discuss something a little different and more interesting.