Juliet Cook's Blog, page 156
November 2, 2011
I've never liked the phrase GO WITH THE FLOW
You didn't like the way I dressed – you read some of my poetry and cried – you were upset by my taste in books – & many times when I expressed a different opinion/point of view than yours, you seemed to think that opinion/point of view of mine was created by or heavily influenced by other people rather than being my own opinion that happened to differ from yours.
That started a very long time ago. I remember it happening a lot back when I was in college. If my opinion wasn't the same as yours, you seemed to think my opinion was created by/influenced by/controlled by others. For one small example, when instead of being anti-abortion, I became become pro-choice, you seemed to think that must have been due to somebody else, rather than due to my own opinion changing as I became an adult.
Since you've often seemed to think I'm someone who is overly influenced by others (and since I have always disagreed with that perspective of yours about me), part of me was overly worried/concerned about the chance that you might be using my post-stroke situation as some sort of excuse to rid me of someone/something you had never really liked – and since I don't want another adult to make a choice for me too quickly (or at all for that matter, because I don't think adults should try to make lifestyle choices for other adults – offering opinions is one thing; but repeatedly telling someone what they should do is another thing), it took me longer to make my own choice.
I tend to be a slow decision maker anyway, even about little things – and when it comes to a big, major lifestyle decision, I sure don't want to make my choice too fast. For the most part, it is up to each adult to make their own choices when ready/willing. If it took me too long by some people's standards, oh well. Lots of things take me too long by some people's standards and it is important to me to try my best to stay attuned to my own standards/thoughts/feelings/perspectives.
I strongly dislike it when I try to express how I am feeling about something and the person I'm talking to interrupts me and says something like, 'No, that is NOT the way you feel' as though I am making up my own thoughts/feelings or as if they think they might be more aware of my own thoughts/feelings than I am. WTF!?! Yes, I have lots of mixed feelings, but that doesn't make me a faker, a lying person, or a person who wants someone else to tell me how I should feel or how I do feel.
Let me express myself my way.
***
(Woke up in the middle of the night a while back and felt compelled to write those notes on papers beside my bed and have now decided to post them here. They probably sound semi-random, but I wanted to write them down again and then throw the papers away).
That started a very long time ago. I remember it happening a lot back when I was in college. If my opinion wasn't the same as yours, you seemed to think my opinion was created by/influenced by/controlled by others. For one small example, when instead of being anti-abortion, I became become pro-choice, you seemed to think that must have been due to somebody else, rather than due to my own opinion changing as I became an adult.
Since you've often seemed to think I'm someone who is overly influenced by others (and since I have always disagreed with that perspective of yours about me), part of me was overly worried/concerned about the chance that you might be using my post-stroke situation as some sort of excuse to rid me of someone/something you had never really liked – and since I don't want another adult to make a choice for me too quickly (or at all for that matter, because I don't think adults should try to make lifestyle choices for other adults – offering opinions is one thing; but repeatedly telling someone what they should do is another thing), it took me longer to make my own choice.
I tend to be a slow decision maker anyway, even about little things – and when it comes to a big, major lifestyle decision, I sure don't want to make my choice too fast. For the most part, it is up to each adult to make their own choices when ready/willing. If it took me too long by some people's standards, oh well. Lots of things take me too long by some people's standards and it is important to me to try my best to stay attuned to my own standards/thoughts/feelings/perspectives.
I strongly dislike it when I try to express how I am feeling about something and the person I'm talking to interrupts me and says something like, 'No, that is NOT the way you feel' as though I am making up my own thoughts/feelings or as if they think they might be more aware of my own thoughts/feelings than I am. WTF!?! Yes, I have lots of mixed feelings, but that doesn't make me a faker, a lying person, or a person who wants someone else to tell me how I should feel or how I do feel.
Let me express myself my way.
***
(Woke up in the middle of the night a while back and felt compelled to write those notes on papers beside my bed and have now decided to post them here. They probably sound semi-random, but I wanted to write them down again and then throw the papers away).
November 1, 2011
"Tips of the Whip Fling Gold Stars" – the Poetry of Evelyn Lau
"After the latest round of sexual fetishism had snapped to a close, the reader was left wanting more and so was the speaker. She was unsatisfied, alone, desolate, devastated, and desperate. Other times, she was muted, numb, and doubtful of her own capacity to experience true emotion and she desired to do something extreme in order to feel something real"
A snippet from my mini-review of Evelyn Lau's poetry.
Read the whole piece by clicking the link below.
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/9081479/tips_of_the_whip_fling_gold_stars_the_pg2.html?cat=47
A snippet from my mini-review of Evelyn Lau's poetry.
Read the whole piece by clicking the link below.
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/9081479/tips_of_the_whip_fling_gold_stars_the_pg2.html?cat=47
October 24, 2011
Morsels Hung On Hooks - Halloweeny 13 Myna Birds
The new Halloweeny Thirteen Myna Birds is now live!
Featuring darkly delicious oodles by Bonnie MacAllister, Tiffany Midge, David Greenspan, Eleanor Leonne Bennett, Paul David Adkins, Kari Larsen, & John Rocco - this issue has SIXTEEN scrumptious offerings:
http://13myna.blogspot.com/
a puddle of thick pink - some would call this puddle a flood - a hot house exertion - a little bit demonic - a carnival of wasp stingers - thrashing on a carousel – pompoms bursting – floating ghost - packed to slats with pillaged finery - drowned in the foam – the apertures pearl with blood – plummet beyond sound - peek inside…
***
Here is a delightful note about this Thirteen Myna Birds update from one of it poets, David Greenspan:
"I have two poems up in the Halloween issue of Thirteen Myna Birds. Thirteen Myna Birds is the brain-child of Juliet Cook, who seems to have a book out on every press ever. She rocks and her journal is pretty cool. Dark, very dark....The lay out of the journal is rad. They have thirteen (sixteen for Halloween) pieces, ordered from thirteen to one. When a new piece is published, the piece numbered one gets pushed off the journal. Keeps things temporary, urgent maybe? Read my poems here while you can. http://13myna.blogspot.com/. "
(I sure as heck don't have a book out from every press ever, but reading that amuses me greatly; haha.)
AND here is an oddly amusingly fun snippet from another of this updates poets, Kari Larsen, re: Thirteen Myna Birds and Twin Peaks:
"Speaking of Juliet Cook's killer Thirteen Myna Birds, the new issue is celebrating Halloween with three poems from Say you're a fiction! Thirteen Myna Birds is a Twin Peaks reference. My best friend Clare is being Laura Palmer for Halloween."
(I wonder if Kari Larsen knows that my very first print poetry chapbook was inspired by Laura Palmer - http://www.etsy.com/listing/58029753/halloween-lynchian-the-laura-poems-by
Featuring darkly delicious oodles by Bonnie MacAllister, Tiffany Midge, David Greenspan, Eleanor Leonne Bennett, Paul David Adkins, Kari Larsen, & John Rocco - this issue has SIXTEEN scrumptious offerings:
http://13myna.blogspot.com/
a puddle of thick pink - some would call this puddle a flood - a hot house exertion - a little bit demonic - a carnival of wasp stingers - thrashing on a carousel – pompoms bursting – floating ghost - packed to slats with pillaged finery - drowned in the foam – the apertures pearl with blood – plummet beyond sound - peek inside…
***
Here is a delightful note about this Thirteen Myna Birds update from one of it poets, David Greenspan:
"I have two poems up in the Halloween issue of Thirteen Myna Birds. Thirteen Myna Birds is the brain-child of Juliet Cook, who seems to have a book out on every press ever. She rocks and her journal is pretty cool. Dark, very dark....The lay out of the journal is rad. They have thirteen (sixteen for Halloween) pieces, ordered from thirteen to one. When a new piece is published, the piece numbered one gets pushed off the journal. Keeps things temporary, urgent maybe? Read my poems here while you can. http://13myna.blogspot.com/. "
(I sure as heck don't have a book out from every press ever, but reading that amuses me greatly; haha.)
AND here is an oddly amusingly fun snippet from another of this updates poets, Kari Larsen, re: Thirteen Myna Birds and Twin Peaks:
"Speaking of Juliet Cook's killer Thirteen Myna Birds, the new issue is celebrating Halloween with three poems from Say you're a fiction! Thirteen Myna Birds is a Twin Peaks reference. My best friend Clare is being Laura Palmer for Halloween."
(I wonder if Kari Larsen knows that my very first print poetry chapbook was inspired by Laura Palmer - http://www.etsy.com/listing/58029753/halloween-lynchian-the-laura-poems-by
October 21, 2011
paranoia/poetry
I seem to be experiencing a bit of a paranoid streak, especially about people suddenly/unexpectedly losing interest in me - and how am I to know when that might happen or why?
Perhaps this is semi-related to being a semi-recently divorced woman who feels emotionally uncertain about love and even about significant relationships - but who really craves love and an intense relationship with the right individual- but who knows that even longterm love and intensity might suddenly/unexpectedly ebb.
It worries me (maybe too much) if someone I am involved with and feel strongly about seems to suddenly diverge from frequent, intense correspondence to less frequent, intense correspondence. He might just be having an odd spell or a small episode of a bad series of days, BUT it makes me wonder if I somehow unexpectedly managed to turn him off. If so, I wish he would tell me why/how, instead of just keeping it to himself.
Even if I didn't do anything that turned him off; even if less correspondence is not related to lack of interest, I also don't want a man I feel super-strongly and intensely about to be one of those sorts who turns it down after he thinks he's gotten a woman who really likes him. I would much rather have a man who turns it up up UP as the relationship gets more significant.
I do seem to have a paranoid streak about relationships suddenly/unexpectedly ending and this fused with my insecurity issues might make me a tough woman to deal with for many men. But I don't want many men - and I don't want a man who wants many women. I want a special, creative, darkly delicious morsel of a man who truly wants me back & forth and who often tries his best to convince me of such.
I seem to be worrying too much about possible ebbings instead of focusing on wonderfully positive presents.
Please don't give up.
******
Here is a poem from my Thirteen Designer Vaginas chapbook -
Designer Vagina
I got sucked into a black hole
of sensation, tied up with pretty pink rib-
bon. I need to find out if I'm tightly bound
or decorated; intact or slaveringly masticated
bonbon. Inside my designer gift box,
am I tied down or am I a good time release
capsule? If he doesn't deserve the present;
if he's stuck in his desire for the past, then should I
wish to be unwrapped by someone who is wishing for me?
All these frills and frayed edges don't come cheap
I read that piece at a very fun-filled poetry reading I participated in this past weekend with my scrumpdelicious poet friend Margaret Bashaar. We each read several of our own poems plus a poem from each other's chapbook, published by each of our small presses.
So Marg. read one of my poems from my Thirteen Designer Vagina's, published by her Hyacinth Girl Press (available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/77707618/thirteen-designer-vaginas-by-juliet-cook)
And I read a poem from her Letters From Room 27 of the Grand Midway Hotel, published by my Blood Pudding Press (available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/82732178/halloween-horror-poetry-letters-from)
I wish I had some photos from the reading, but alas!
I was also wonderfully thrilled that my exceptionally special yumfest PoetJoe attended the reading and spent time with me afterwords. Later this month, the two of us will be having all kinds of darkly delicious fun during a horror film fest weekend. Yay!
I hope he can handle my insecure/paranoid streaks and does not grow overly fed up and tired of me.
Perhaps this is semi-related to being a semi-recently divorced woman who feels emotionally uncertain about love and even about significant relationships - but who really craves love and an intense relationship with the right individual- but who knows that even longterm love and intensity might suddenly/unexpectedly ebb.
It worries me (maybe too much) if someone I am involved with and feel strongly about seems to suddenly diverge from frequent, intense correspondence to less frequent, intense correspondence. He might just be having an odd spell or a small episode of a bad series of days, BUT it makes me wonder if I somehow unexpectedly managed to turn him off. If so, I wish he would tell me why/how, instead of just keeping it to himself.
Even if I didn't do anything that turned him off; even if less correspondence is not related to lack of interest, I also don't want a man I feel super-strongly and intensely about to be one of those sorts who turns it down after he thinks he's gotten a woman who really likes him. I would much rather have a man who turns it up up UP as the relationship gets more significant.
I do seem to have a paranoid streak about relationships suddenly/unexpectedly ending and this fused with my insecurity issues might make me a tough woman to deal with for many men. But I don't want many men - and I don't want a man who wants many women. I want a special, creative, darkly delicious morsel of a man who truly wants me back & forth and who often tries his best to convince me of such.
I seem to be worrying too much about possible ebbings instead of focusing on wonderfully positive presents.
Please don't give up.
******
Here is a poem from my Thirteen Designer Vaginas chapbook -
Designer Vagina
I got sucked into a black hole
of sensation, tied up with pretty pink rib-
bon. I need to find out if I'm tightly bound
or decorated; intact or slaveringly masticated
bonbon. Inside my designer gift box,
am I tied down or am I a good time release
capsule? If he doesn't deserve the present;
if he's stuck in his desire for the past, then should I
wish to be unwrapped by someone who is wishing for me?
All these frills and frayed edges don't come cheap
I read that piece at a very fun-filled poetry reading I participated in this past weekend with my scrumpdelicious poet friend Margaret Bashaar. We each read several of our own poems plus a poem from each other's chapbook, published by each of our small presses.
So Marg. read one of my poems from my Thirteen Designer Vagina's, published by her Hyacinth Girl Press (available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/77707618/thirteen-designer-vaginas-by-juliet-cook)
And I read a poem from her Letters From Room 27 of the Grand Midway Hotel, published by my Blood Pudding Press (available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/82732178/halloween-horror-poetry-letters-from)
I wish I had some photos from the reading, but alas!
I was also wonderfully thrilled that my exceptionally special yumfest PoetJoe attended the reading and spent time with me afterwords. Later this month, the two of us will be having all kinds of darkly delicious fun during a horror film fest weekend. Yay!
I hope he can handle my insecure/paranoid streaks and does not grow overly fed up and tired of me.
October 5, 2011
EVERY MONTH COUNTS
I woke up bleeding - the first of two periods I will be getting this month (the second will happen right before Halloween). Feeling better today now that the PMS has abated (this time's PMS, in addition to making me feel sad, also made me feel obsessive compulsive - about weird tidying and organizing and poeming).
A friend of mine sent me an online note last night, mentioning that he wished he would have seen me more in 2011 - which made me think something like, 'Um hello mister. Do three months not really mean much? Do three months not really count? Because 2011 still has three months left within it.'
Which then got me thinking that if 2011 is already almost over by some people's standards, then it would also already be almost two years since my carotid artery dissection/aneurisms/stroke/aphasia - and almost one year (same day) since my divorce.
2011 is NOT almost over by my standards; three months sure move fast (whole years sure move fast too) but are still a substantial amount of time - and who know what could happen? I sure don't like thinking/acting as if whole months of time barely even exist. I don't like moving too fast; but I also don't like moving way too slow. After all, nobody knows exactly how much time they have remaining. One month might feel like almost nothing or very substantial or a fusion of both. For me, every month feels/is substantial and important in its own odd way.
On a semi-related note, I felt a bit annoyed recently when a young male friend of mine informed me that I was almost 40. Hello, I will be turning 39 this month, dingbat. I don't think most women who will soon be turning 39, but have not yet, desire to be called 'almost 40', as if a whole year barely even exists! This seems to indicate that whole months barely even exist all the way up to twelve months! Stop talking/acting like that in front of me! I don't like it!
It all exists people. It all exists in one way or another. Don't act as if nothing really/truely matters much; not even your/my/our remaining time. Don't continually waste time and then be surprised by what you might suddenly lose (you/me/us) - because maybe it's not that sudden if you have been wasting time and ignoring things for months upon months.
I exist. My life exists. My ups & downs exist. My whitening hair exists. My weird poetry modes exist. My 38 soon to turn 39 (but not almost 40 yet) age exists. Every inch of my remaining time still exists. My strong desire to be passionate and productive still exists and will for the rest of my life (despite occassional zoned-out modes).
I still have trouble with math, shapes, sizes, cooking directions, and lots of easy little words (and I'm not going to stop talking about those difficulties as though they no longer exist, because they certainly do) - and maybe that's going to be my brain for the rest of my life now (and I wonder if it is partially my own fault. did I maybe not focus on the right kind of therapy enough? did I not try hard enough in certain regards? did I focus on the wrong things?) - and sometimes that really does trouble me, upset me, stress me out, and make me a feel a bit oddly inferior. But I'm alive, I exist, I have strengths. I sure have annoying spelling issues though, for someone who used to be a great speller. Did I spell inferior wrong? I'm not sure. My mind had a title for this blog entry, but I couldn't spell several of the words, so as of right now, it has know title, and I'll probably think of a different one.
The title WAS going to be Bloody Wailing Banche - except that the second and third words are probably spelled wrong. Is it Wailing or Waleing or neither of those? Is it Banche or Banshe or Banshee or none of those? Is it Whaling or Whaleing or Whale-ing? I don't know. I'll stop. But speaking of one kind of Whale, I'm quite delighted that my poem 'Sink or Float [quick fix witch]' made number 14 of this fabulous Whale Sound Top 20 list. Yay!
http://whalesound.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/top-20-whale-sound-posts/
A friend of mine sent me an online note last night, mentioning that he wished he would have seen me more in 2011 - which made me think something like, 'Um hello mister. Do three months not really mean much? Do three months not really count? Because 2011 still has three months left within it.'
Which then got me thinking that if 2011 is already almost over by some people's standards, then it would also already be almost two years since my carotid artery dissection/aneurisms/stroke/aphasia - and almost one year (same day) since my divorce.
2011 is NOT almost over by my standards; three months sure move fast (whole years sure move fast too) but are still a substantial amount of time - and who know what could happen? I sure don't like thinking/acting as if whole months of time barely even exist. I don't like moving too fast; but I also don't like moving way too slow. After all, nobody knows exactly how much time they have remaining. One month might feel like almost nothing or very substantial or a fusion of both. For me, every month feels/is substantial and important in its own odd way.
On a semi-related note, I felt a bit annoyed recently when a young male friend of mine informed me that I was almost 40. Hello, I will be turning 39 this month, dingbat. I don't think most women who will soon be turning 39, but have not yet, desire to be called 'almost 40', as if a whole year barely even exists! This seems to indicate that whole months barely even exist all the way up to twelve months! Stop talking/acting like that in front of me! I don't like it!
It all exists people. It all exists in one way or another. Don't act as if nothing really/truely matters much; not even your/my/our remaining time. Don't continually waste time and then be surprised by what you might suddenly lose (you/me/us) - because maybe it's not that sudden if you have been wasting time and ignoring things for months upon months.
I exist. My life exists. My ups & downs exist. My whitening hair exists. My weird poetry modes exist. My 38 soon to turn 39 (but not almost 40 yet) age exists. Every inch of my remaining time still exists. My strong desire to be passionate and productive still exists and will for the rest of my life (despite occassional zoned-out modes).
I still have trouble with math, shapes, sizes, cooking directions, and lots of easy little words (and I'm not going to stop talking about those difficulties as though they no longer exist, because they certainly do) - and maybe that's going to be my brain for the rest of my life now (and I wonder if it is partially my own fault. did I maybe not focus on the right kind of therapy enough? did I not try hard enough in certain regards? did I focus on the wrong things?) - and sometimes that really does trouble me, upset me, stress me out, and make me a feel a bit oddly inferior. But I'm alive, I exist, I have strengths. I sure have annoying spelling issues though, for someone who used to be a great speller. Did I spell inferior wrong? I'm not sure. My mind had a title for this blog entry, but I couldn't spell several of the words, so as of right now, it has know title, and I'll probably think of a different one.
The title WAS going to be Bloody Wailing Banche - except that the second and third words are probably spelled wrong. Is it Wailing or Waleing or neither of those? Is it Banche or Banshe or Banshee or none of those? Is it Whaling or Whaleing or Whale-ing? I don't know. I'll stop. But speaking of one kind of Whale, I'm quite delighted that my poem 'Sink or Float [quick fix witch]' made number 14 of this fabulous Whale Sound Top 20 list. Yay!
http://whalesound.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/top-20-whale-sound-posts/
October 2, 2011
October 1, 2011
more positive, lovely, bloody, poetic & more more more (bloody or not, here I come)
Earlier today I was working on writing this more positive post to place above my negative blog post below - had been working on it for quite some time, was almost done, & was just about to post it. I had 'saved' it numerous times. Then I tried to add a youtube song to it, 'Black Cherry' by Goldfrapp, right before posting it and this caused my entire saved post to delete itself and disappear. WTF?
That made me feel pissed off and negative again for a small to medium spell, but I shall now try again! Maybe the Black Cherry song was too outdated and negative, so I shall quit that part and mention that yesterday I fused some Black Raspberry soda pop with Black Raspberry ice cream for a little dessert-esque sip, thanks to a friend of mine's suggestion. Yay.
That made me feel pissed off and negative again for a small to medium spell, but I shall now try again! Maybe the Black Cherry song was too outdated and negative, so I shall quit that part and mention that yesterday I fused some Black Raspberry soda pop with Black Raspberry ice cream for a little dessert-esque sip, thanks to a friend of mine's suggestion. Yay.
And today's the first day of October - and I have quite liked October for many years - dare I say it is my favorite month? I do feel a tiny bit hesitant about saying so, since it used to be my wedding anniversary month and now I am divorced, but that doesn't mean October must go downhill forevermore. It's my birthday month and I sure like the number 9 better than the number 8 - although maybe I kind of wish there was a 2 in front of the 9, instead of a 3; egads!
Better than my age is the fact that my birthday weekend will involve a fun poetry reading event with a wonderful friend of mine (I will add a link to this event below). I will also get my hair cut and dye it a deep burgundy hue, which another extra-special, yummy, fabulous poet friend of mine will enjoy seeing and touching - and I can hardly wait to see him twice this month, as well as possibly seeing another female poet friend of mine too.
One of the times I shall be seeing him as for a Horror Film fest event (several days long) in his neck of the woods - and so maybe it makes some sort of strange, spooky, horror-ific sense that I'm supposed to be getting my period TWICE this month. Talk about a pre-Halloween blood bath of horror. I just hope I don't have some weird seizure thingee happen during the poetry reading event - but if I do, at least I hope to spurt out some more pre-Halloween blood stuff.
It shall be a busy, fun, creative, sexy (bloody or not, here I come) sort of month, brimming with friends, poets, darkly delicious colors, gorgeous fall weather, and more. I shall finish a Halloween poem. I shall publish other people's Halloween poems on Thirteen Myna Birds. I shall hear some good news about my second mini-full length poetry book (for real). I shall add special little creepy yummy design treats to Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbooks purchased this month - so buy one from my etsy shop (or buy other odd Halloween ephemera) here:http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress?section_id=10388961
More information about the October poetry reading event here:http://hyacinthgirlpress.wordpress.com/2-by-4-reading-series/
More more more creepy yummy content coming later.
September 30, 2011
negative
Ongoing sleep issues, possibly related to my new seizure pill seem to be causing increasing slowness and negativity. I am having yet another overly tired, not getting anywhere near enough done day, plus having trouble with easy little words (still - forever?) and getting increasingly frustrated by that. I'm not reading and writing nearly enough. I'm not doing ANYTHING enough. I feel like I could just sleep & sleep & sleep forever. I have never had that experience before in my life. I have to force myself awake every morning. I'm slow and tired almost all day long. I sometimes feel as if I barely exist anymore.
September 21, 2011
I'd like to think I have a lot more to offer than my holes
Anyone who likes my holes better than they like my convoluted but still complex brain waves, my thoughts, my feelings, my mental extremities, should just go find themselves another pussy.
Since when did pussies like to be domesticated or dominated?
Fine maybe I liked that at some point in time, but not at this point in time, that's for sure. Domination does not make me purr; nor does it make me whimper in a fun/sexy way – at least not fun/sexy for ME – and at this point, I definitely do not want to just please another, not really caring if he pleases me.
If you're the type who really likes dominating a woman who really likes to be controlled, then you are not the type for me. Even the words 'domination' and 'control' turn me off, at this point in my life. I do not want to be dominated or controlled at all, sexually speaking or otherwise.
I do not want to be ordered around. I understand that turns some people on; fine; but I am not one of them. I like having my hands held down, because I like to be held and touched all kinds of different places and all kinds of different ways by a hot partner I feel truly strongly about.
I like to feel his body on top of/underneath/against/inside my body in all kinds of positions and styles and vice versa. But I don't like him (or me) being in control and me (or him) just doing what we're told in any kind of dominating way. I really like strong intensity, but I dislike aggression or strong assertiveness.
Tell me what you're going to do to my body because you know I want you too. Tell me what you want to do to me, because you know I desire it and want you to tempt me and tease me. Tell me what you want me to do to you; what would really arouse you. But not in a controlling way. Instead, tell me in a really turned on, excited, sweet/dirty fusion of intensity.
Whisper in my ears, stick your tongue inside me, touch me all over. Sometimes I like soft, sweet physical contact; sometimes I like rough, dirty physicality; but I sure as heck don't like aggression or control. I understand some people have a sexual fetish for controlling/being controlled; that is fine for them; but that is not my fetish and not fine for me.
I've had enough controlling people in my life, trying to tell me what to do; trying to tell me what I should do, whether I want to or not. Thus, those kinds of interactions do not turn me on sexually, at all. I'm not anti-kink; I'm not anti-fetish; but I do not have a dominant/submissive kink or fetish.
Tell me what you're going to do to me because you know it will excite/arouse me. Tell me what you want me to do to you because you know I adore you and desire contact/connection with our body parts and deep inside your mind. Whisper and press yourself into me, but do not yell at me to do something right now or else.
'I know you want to…' turns me on. 'Do this right now or else…' turns me off.
Someone that is more interested in my holes than my ears and my wrists and my legs and my socks and my thoughts and my feelings and my brain and my WORDS grosses me out.
*
On a semi-unrelated but semi-related note, I am really into Kristin Hersh today. I have loved her music for years and truly am adoring some of her older songs today.
Since when did pussies like to be domesticated or dominated?
Fine maybe I liked that at some point in time, but not at this point in time, that's for sure. Domination does not make me purr; nor does it make me whimper in a fun/sexy way – at least not fun/sexy for ME – and at this point, I definitely do not want to just please another, not really caring if he pleases me.
If you're the type who really likes dominating a woman who really likes to be controlled, then you are not the type for me. Even the words 'domination' and 'control' turn me off, at this point in my life. I do not want to be dominated or controlled at all, sexually speaking or otherwise.
I do not want to be ordered around. I understand that turns some people on; fine; but I am not one of them. I like having my hands held down, because I like to be held and touched all kinds of different places and all kinds of different ways by a hot partner I feel truly strongly about.
I like to feel his body on top of/underneath/against/inside my body in all kinds of positions and styles and vice versa. But I don't like him (or me) being in control and me (or him) just doing what we're told in any kind of dominating way. I really like strong intensity, but I dislike aggression or strong assertiveness.
Tell me what you're going to do to my body because you know I want you too. Tell me what you want to do to me, because you know I desire it and want you to tempt me and tease me. Tell me what you want me to do to you; what would really arouse you. But not in a controlling way. Instead, tell me in a really turned on, excited, sweet/dirty fusion of intensity.
Whisper in my ears, stick your tongue inside me, touch me all over. Sometimes I like soft, sweet physical contact; sometimes I like rough, dirty physicality; but I sure as heck don't like aggression or control. I understand some people have a sexual fetish for controlling/being controlled; that is fine for them; but that is not my fetish and not fine for me.
I've had enough controlling people in my life, trying to tell me what to do; trying to tell me what I should do, whether I want to or not. Thus, those kinds of interactions do not turn me on sexually, at all. I'm not anti-kink; I'm not anti-fetish; but I do not have a dominant/submissive kink or fetish.
Tell me what you're going to do to me because you know it will excite/arouse me. Tell me what you want me to do to you because you know I adore you and desire contact/connection with our body parts and deep inside your mind. Whisper and press yourself into me, but do not yell at me to do something right now or else.
'I know you want to…' turns me on. 'Do this right now or else…' turns me off.
Someone that is more interested in my holes than my ears and my wrists and my legs and my socks and my thoughts and my feelings and my brain and my WORDS grosses me out.
*
On a semi-unrelated but semi-related note, I am really into Kristin Hersh today. I have loved her music for years and truly am adoring some of her older songs today.
September 16, 2011
anti black & white; infused with a strangely disproportionate spectrum of different pink & purple hues
My expectations are not the same as they used to be; they have partially abated.
I don't mean that negatively. I don't feel diminished.
I know that my mind is not perfectly fine for/with everyone/everything.
Certain people turn me on; certain people turn me off.
Different kinds of passion and creativity turn me on a lot.
But more often than not, I don't really know what to expect of people, interactions, and experiences. I often try things, not knowing what might happen next. I don't dive in fully, yet I dive pretty deep.
Sometimes I suddenly sink, sometimes I suddenly rise up, sometimes I alternate between the two – feeling confused, uncertain about what is going on and what might happen next – feeling unsure what SHOULD happen next. Who knows? I don't.
What should I expect? I don't know. I don't have solid expectations. I have floating expectations.
Water color and texture and pressures change. Sometimes I feel like I might be sinking, but I'm not.
Sometimes I feel disappointed, but still unsure.
Sometimes I feel happily delighted, but still unsure.
Almost always unsure about most things, but one thing I do feel pretty sure about.
Almost everything seems prone to solubility.
I don't mean that negatively. I don't feel diminished.
I know that my mind is not perfectly fine for/with everyone/everything.
Certain people turn me on; certain people turn me off.
Different kinds of passion and creativity turn me on a lot.
But more often than not, I don't really know what to expect of people, interactions, and experiences. I often try things, not knowing what might happen next. I don't dive in fully, yet I dive pretty deep.
Sometimes I suddenly sink, sometimes I suddenly rise up, sometimes I alternate between the two – feeling confused, uncertain about what is going on and what might happen next – feeling unsure what SHOULD happen next. Who knows? I don't.
What should I expect? I don't know. I don't have solid expectations. I have floating expectations.
Water color and texture and pressures change. Sometimes I feel like I might be sinking, but I'm not.
Sometimes I feel disappointed, but still unsure.
Sometimes I feel happily delighted, but still unsure.
Almost always unsure about most things, but one thing I do feel pretty sure about.
Almost everything seems prone to solubility.
