misstree's_rambling_roof misstree continued from misstree's_rambling_corner by request, 'cause i'm good at being long winded. it kinda caught me off guard when des suggested the move. when i'm writing in my little corner (roof, now), i get into the mode of thinking that no one's really reading these things, that they're just bottles in the sea. the only reason i acually hit the little button instead of nevermind is to aid in my own expulsion of such things, usually, or to tell some story that i think that maybe one out of a hundred people might find interesting. (if the proportion is higher, i put it at another_story). but, well, apparently, i'm not alone here. i am in serious need of a mood shift, so i'm going to use this page to do it. go suck a pig if you don't like it. what are the good things i did this weekend? always a good place to start, that whole focusing_on_the_positive bullcrap. i got to see my family. i'm kind of fond of them, enough that i enjoy the holiday get togethers. my uncle butch argues like no one else i've ever known, and aunt arlene and i were set against him for a while, then spent time bonding in the kitchen. it seems strange to me that the oldest of my aunts (fourty year age difference between us) should be the person i connect with most. but, there it is. inordinate fondness. i got to see old friends. weirdfish has a new fiancee, surprise surprise, the third one i've met. i was the only one who escaped that honor, i think. i'm lousy wife material. seeing him was very good for me. i told him once to tell me when i had been in champaign too long. he told me this weekend: i have been in champaign too long. i agree with him. i also had him talk about string_theory and why it's been rendered meaningless, and a million other technical tidbits. i saw mark and kat, but there was no sharing of scents. every time i see them, they're a little bit further. i remet someone, a pretty hippie boy who i could have tumbled if i weren't concerned about getting back to my parents at a decent time, or if i thought he would be interesting enough to set that concern aside. i met a rampaging_wenchbeast, whom i spent more time talking to than anyone else, who will go out to the goth clubs with me if i can come up around christmastime. now move on before the things that were grey or dry or empty in that day find you. quickly. you can feel breath on your neck. i got to see my parents (mother and stepfather). i wish i were more enthusiastic, but really, i can't be. my mother saw my tattoo, and didn't flip. i got to drive three different vehicles. it's not working. my mind keeps going back to what i'm missing. what i need. what i want. my mind keeps going to other places. i've staked my tattered flag in the sand, and i've talked to the treetops while leaning out my window. pray for me, darling audience, that this upcoming week will be worthy of my birthday celebration. pray that this is just a momentary setback, and i will pray that everything will be different in the morning. g'night. 031129 ... endless desire just because i never comment doesn't mean im not listening. i just figure i comment on everything else so i'll leave something free of my nonsense. so you have a birthday coming? 031129 ... misstree indeed. i never tell anyone exactly when it is, but it's close enough that i will reveal that it's within the next week. the big reveal will be the day after, so i don't get all the "hey! great to hear you're aging like us normal mortals! how old are you? hahahaha! that much farther from youth and closer to death, eh! well, happy birthday!" not a big fan of them. they're a reason to celebrate, but aside from that, complete denial. this'll be my last birthday in this town (if i have my say in it), so i plan to make it a memorable one. but plans and a buck can get you some gas station coffee. 031129 ... endless desire it always seemed to me that birthdays celebrated the fact that someone was born. . .that you were glad they existed. that's all. i'll go back to listening now. continue rambling 031129 ... oldephebe yeah mtree, i like endless read your aching exhalations..i've commented on so much in blather that..i feel sometimes it's good to leave some things pure and undefiled by my incontinence. So sally forth and please resume your ruminations. Since the age of sever or eight i've been pretty stoic, pretty reticent about my birthday..so i totally get your approach.. ... 031129 ... misstree thank you guys for piping up tonight. i'm normally pretty centered and aloof (to the point where i'm hesitant to post this, and hesitant to post anything that admits my angst for that matter), but it really means a lot to hear some other voices intersecting with mine tonight. i wish i could tell you how much it means to me, but the guards stiffen a little whenever i glance in that direction. so i'll say thanks, and take some virtual hugs, and leak out of my eyeballs until it's enough to make me sleep. 031129 ... misstree note to self: when desperate for sleep, remember that you have vicodin *before* you put down more booze than you're comfortable mixing. i brought it for a reson. dammit. 031129 ... ferret sure you did dearie ;) 031130 ... ferret and i like roofs 031130 ... REAListic optimIST i just got home from leash 's birthday get together at her and her ex's apartment. got her a card and a small gift, and she said maybe 5 words all night. kinda awkward over there... anyway, while you are doing all of that obligatory self-analysis and derooting that comes around one's birthday, don't forget to remember how much you inspire and affect us all around here, and that we think you are a grand stalwart tree worthy of sappy praise. 031130 ... Lemon_Soda You've been trapped in a human body for a bit to long now. I personally understand how champaign might make a situation like that even worse. As for your birthday, it has nothing to do with your age. That dumb serial number that they branded us with at birth and all the other little numbers that go with it are just that:numbers. I don't think you'll ever grow old and die. I celebrate birthdays for and with other people because everyone needs a day, period. It will be your day soon, Miss Tree. A holiday dedicated to your essence. A 24 hour period were people have the perfect excuse to be who they are, smile for no reason, and except that life is a thing to be cherished and enjoyed. Even when I feel like a million tons of shit brick, I can't think of a singal time that I have come to you and not recieved a smile for my trouble. If I had my way, your birthday would be an international holiday. Remember, its how you view things not what your viewing. If I may be so bold, I would suggest that you do me the honor of adopting my universes version of your birthday over your own simply because I cant think of a day more appropriate for you to be ecstatically happy on. But, I seem to have something on my nose, so I'll wrap this up and go take a shower: Happy birthday, Miss Tree, and I friggin' mean it. 031130 ... misstree t's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and all is right with the world. okay, so none of that's true, but it matters not. the general feeling is that all is right in the world, all the minor problems are minor, all the major ones are out of mind, and i am checking in with reality one last time before launching myself into my birthday celebration. i don't expect much except to be in a jolly mood, if the world entertains me then all the better. i know i've said this before, i'll say it again, i feel like i'm just taking up space with these musings, but ya don't have to come out on the roof if you con't like them. :P besides, i felt the need to correct the mood of this place after saturday's fun family time. i feel like that whole thanksgiving visit took place in a grey pocket dimension (read: suburbs), life didn't dance for me... i got to drive around in my old stomping_grounds, though, which brings me much peace. there are stories from my birthday accumulating already, but i don't know how many i'll share... *grin*... i'll raise a fine toast to all the souls here at my sanitarium, and i promise to do my best to have more fun than normal mortals should be allowed. *curtsey* *jingle* *bounces into the moonset* 031202 ... misstree needs to pass out more than 3 hours two words: birthday_orgy. wowza. i still smell funny, and my brain is stut and my brain is stut and my brain is stuttering pretty heavy. 031203 ... misstree all my muscles hurt. it doesn't seem like i did that much moving or straining, that there should be any reason for complaint from my poor pampered meat, but apparently a toll was taken. though i've untangled a lot, there still seems to be something niggling at me. maybe it is that i need a distraction to keep my focus loose. maybe i am a little disappointed that there was no suitable meat. but it was still a glorious time, another story i can tell, another piece of the Legend of Tree... a fitting celebration for me in the herenow. today, two alarms combined could barely drag me from dreamland, and i'm still only awake by technicality. there is a little bit of a scared feeling in the back of my head, like i'm sliding into or away from something. i think i know how to make the roller coaster lurch, but it's ten times more effort than i normally need to put into anything. but the more i stare at it, the more it seems it needs to be. the last set of defenses before i can enter the shining city. it will take time, patience, resolve, and strength. this is the pretty way to put it. it will involve doing things when i don't want to, and not doing things that i do want to. this is exceedingly alien to my nature, but the rewards suit my nature very well. i need to shed a skin to Become. hardest step yet. a little afraid, i've waggled my toes around this path many times before, and it's all come to naught. very ungood at denying myself, and no matter how it's sugar coated, that's what it comes down to. i will find a point of focus, and i will Be as i wish to. it's the next step, it's staring at me, and i can't avoid it. baby steps to start this one off, baby steps and a wheelbarrow full of resolve. a challenge. i usually love challenges. i'm scared because this is one i know i can easily fail. this winter, *this* winter, is the time to set this piece in place. i dislike that it's an issue, but predators must keep claws sharpened, and when rebirth occurs i want to be properly dressed. 031204 ... realistic optimist in response to your misstree's rambling corner metaprogramming entry dated today, i just thought i'd offer a few chunks of advice. the first is that your brain is quite adaptable, but prefers not to adapt. this means that it will be sneaky and find ways to revert back to old habits. because of this, you must attack on several fronts, with several types of plans. these often include: discussing parts of your plans with friends so you can receive support in social situations to help balance any pressure you might feel, ways to reward compliance, ways to punish non-compliance, ways to reorder your thinking in general as well as when tempted, adopting a black and white philosophy which has a back door clause which states that a slip up only serves to further cement you in your path of purpose. if this was all to pop-psychish for you, or you prefer more meaty details, feel free to contact me and rent out my brain for a bit. it comes cheap nowadays. 031208 ... misstree i could kiss you. you gave me a meta-list. :) right now i'm compiling the information neccessary for solid formualtion, as well as making small adjustments and seeing how my brain reacts, both in mundane activities and my view on them (eg, seeing something as fulfilling rather than tedious. yay clean laundry!) i'm having a bit of trouble with the rewards and punishments. most of the rewards i can think of are either things that i do anyway or things i'm trying to edit out. any suggestions? and with negative reinforcement, i'd prefer it not be in the form of further restrictions, as that will just tickle the desire to rebel even more, so again i'm having trouble thinking of things. further thoughts on the black and white philosophy once a few mists coalesce, but it strikes a note with lemon_soda's suggestion of taking a logic class. henry_rollins also comes to mind, in his writing there are threads that i think i can adapt, but the only book i have of his right now is from the wrong time of his life... lots of pain in that one, which is very much not where i'm at. but the back door clause is also brilliant if i can set it up properly, turning the rrrrah back in on itself. the one major condition that might throw me a loop is if the winter turns bad in some way. i'm in a really stable spot right now and having a hellagood time, so there's not a lot of other pressures to distract me. here's to hoping that keeps up, and whatever little shitstorms do come flying through (as they always will) are able to be smacked down by my rather beefy perspective editors. 031208 ... misstree i am not a nice person. and someday it's going to bite me in the ass. last night is still a smeared swirl in this slightly mushy brain... i remember talking to a million people, playing and flirting with half of them... i remember going outside to smoke, i remember dancing to really good songs, i remember discussing tactics with the person that is quicky approaching the status of lover... i remember catherding to get home... i remember kicking one person out, there were hints that blood could be in the air but his presence made me too aggro for it, ironically enough... there was another there, too, that doesn't understand the meaning of back off... always with the clingy, pushy vibe, which very much doesn't jibe well with me... and there was a guy there, an old friend of the lover's, who came to my place, and was worth the tumble i got but not a whole lot more. he was properly aggressive and self-confident, had the attitude down, but when it really came down to it, was a little lacking in the thrusting skills. i think i offended and caused him to leave right after we were done, while debating whether really good sex could be a battle or merely a struggle. there were four people whom i abandoned to their own devices twice in my room, one of whom i had worked very hard to get there, and then failed to play with, again. but between the kicking out and the clingy and the so goddamn tired, well, i just didn't have it in me. so, in theory i offended a number of people last night. the degree to which i don't care astounds me, and i don't think that's a good thing; in a small_pond_town like this one, you run out of people to piss off pretty quick. but so_it_goes, i'll chew on that and regurgitate something later. very happy with the goingson with the burgeoning lover. the orgy worried me a little, there were hints of what might have been jealousy and a desire to mentally cling, but i got those sorted out into the innocuous pile, which makes me very happy. first thing the boy did was wink at me last night, and the grin started spreading. later he stroked my ego repeatedly... the comment i remember most was "you'll always be my nubmer one girl." i asked, "what does that mean?" (fishing, yes.) "means you come first, you're most important. i gotta make up for last week." i grinned. "why on earth would i be number one girl?" "'cause you're the best." ha! big ol' grin. another grin when we started plotting like the olden days, working together to expertly craft a possible orgy... which never manifested, and he didn't show up to anyway (he was off doing someone else, and i have no idea if he tried to call or not, but it matters not--i had my fun). this appears to be shaping into exactly what i need right now, someone whom i can hang with and who talks almost as much as me, who has just about the same draw and same lack of power to say no that i do, that's a quality tumble, who can be trusted to go off and play elsewhere when the opportunity strikes and plots well with me when that strikes too. he avoids the whole pain aspect, but in a way that's almost better, keeps him from being a combatant. i just have to remember to keep my head on straight with that one, and it'll be all good. i think i may have sorted out what the nearlywrong thing is that keeps niggling at my brain. there's something about this that reminds me very much of another_time, another_place (and another_story, if you want to be technical), but it's much different, i think... it's a sense of just minor disappointment, of having the world at your fingers and yawning at it... it's the feeling that there's something missing. the feeling that i've been cheated somehow. "you promised_me_poems / but all i ever got was advertising jingles." kinda like that. is it possible that *gasp* debauchery isn't all it's cracked up to be? nonsense. orgies aren't all they're cracked up to be unless they have just the right mix of people and environment, and last night had problems in both. next week i go home alone--i think i will enjoy that very much. not having my phone disconcerts me pretty badly as well, as i'm supposed to do dinner with the ex_boyfriend tonight and i'd like to know what happened to hxxxx (and to yell at him for inviting badness people and then not being there to kick them out for me)... i guess i should just give up hope of having a normal brainspace day. apologies for the babble; kinda one of those morning_after necessitities. but thanks for the invisible ear. 031210 ... misstree first, two poems. In the Meantime...000508 I want soft certainty, serenity in a storm, a friend and lovr like a feather bed to sink into and sleep. I crave constancy, love unconditional, a steady procession of bliss. I will not find this in you, no matter how deep I hunt-- you are too much your own, never to trade even the most minor promise for the sake of a night's certain peace. Yet I am drawn to you, entranced, addicted to the feel of your teeth at my throat, the lash of your voice, cool and disinterested. You are a siren to a weak and wounded sailor in this restless and undulating sea, and even knowing this, I will bash myself to bits against your rocky shore. 010508 I want to want you, to find the place where passion's point digs and twist the blade, writhe in emotion's ecstacy, immolate myself in your flame, scream for you in the night and name the beast. I want to be reborn for you, want to tear myself to pieces to distract myself from your searing reality, to have reason to sob. But I am damp, dulled, apathetic and uninspired in the places where I should burn, disinterested when I should be obsessed. first one was written in new_orleans, the second a few months into what became a 2.5 year relationship. little bit of a shift in perspective. well, i'm now about four months out of that relationship... if anyone has ever played the final fantasy games, recent times have kind of felt like the tail end of a summon spell, or something changing forms into something really badazz... freedom has brought me back to myself, after a little vacation in meplusyou land... i really do feel like i'm becoming myself again, after being asleep for a long time... i'm not the kind of person that comfort does entirely good things to/for, but it is very nice and very neccesary at times. but what i thrive most on is experience, adventure, new things and challenges and the meat and pulp of life. drink deep, stay drunk, never thirst, is the blessing i offer to my dearest darlings. times have come that bless me with these as well. fuck_you_for_being_happy is an attitude i can understand. i know that there are sharks in these waters, nor am i sunshine and rainbows every moment. but i don't allow myself to stay in bad places for long, and i have plenty to distract me. zo, for the moment at least, life is fargin' good. i'm still broke, still directionless, still incapable of getting my room to a state which might be considered "clean", and still screwing myself for sleep, but heck, none of that really matters... moments are what really matter, and there's been a feast of them... yes, i am a glutton, and damn proud... more than my fair share of fun? snatch it out of my jaws, then. and for my own personal refrence, this particular top of the world is brought to me by a houka bar, a jewel not often found in the midwest, an opening match of such enduring quality, the second time i have imbibed myself distilled, an easter egg of dancing and song with such revered creature, touristing on someone else's turf and still finding familiar faces, being able to eschew delectibility with no regrets, challenges met with such command i had to grin and agree, clean lines and bony hips, well-earned fatigue, drinks from strangers who make me release my locks, and friday night as an entire fucking symphony, it was one i'll be humming under my breath for a good while yet. i also take it as a good sign about my life that i can't say it's one of the best... so many good nights lately... if this were a very sideslipped place, i would be a goddess whose worshippers were being especially generous with the fatted calves... but instead i am just consistently offered a high level of quality entertainment and Play. halleluiah to whatever combination of circumstances is responsible, be it dumb luck, personal outlook, big momma, or a guy and a cat in a cave. pausing for a moment, i gotta say, i don't mean to brag, i just wanna share the joy. there's a lotta pain shared hereabouts--and that's fine, i've bled more than my share of bytes--but i'll hold up my torch on the other side while i got it. i used to say that one of my problems, the reason i had a lot of "dark" poetry, was that when i was happy, i didn't feel inspired to write. that was before i started spewing hereabouts quite so often. so, nyah, blather, ya've been a good influence on me. hmm. guess i should go find someone to be a bad influence on... heh heh... {a while later...} one other thing i wanted to ramble about... since i am on my roof, after all... someone at the bar on friday kept asking me, "what are you on"... this place just changed ownership, used to be well-known for dealing coke from behind the bar, so the guy was pretty convinced i was on coke... the ecstacy hadn't really started kicking in, all i was on was a red bull and major sleep dep, and told him such... he insisted that i acted like i was on some sort of speed... i wasn't sure if i should be offended or not, but i put it down to the red bull and my "natural bounce" (though to me, i'm about as slothlike as they get)... mentioned it to the darling that i was there with, and he agreed with the guy, said that i did kinda seem like a tweaker... it clicked that i've heard such things before... usually when i'm out and about... often when i'm on redbull or suchnot... and asking water_brothers confirmed that the image is pervasive... still not sure what i think about that... i'm not a cokehead, dislike the stuff for the most part (though there are circumstances in which i would indulge)... don't do meth, like the stuff way too damn much, keep myself away from it... but i'm not sure how i feel about people thinking that i'm on speed... i mean, i care very little about what peope think, but i'd like to get credit only for the miscreant things i *actually* do... and i know that certain aspects of my life are looked upon with envy by others... (two male friends this weekend, in separate circumstances, flat out said that they envy my sex life), and i don't want to give the impression that drugs with such destructive capabilities are part of my regular lineup... being a good example and all that, seems a bit ironic to me but that's how it goes... but, in the end, i'm not responsible for other people's impressions or actions... and those whom i would really care about losing themselves in chemicals, well, they damn well should know better... okay, done now, i promise... and if any care, the poem i said i would find over at i_failed_you or whatnot, i found it, but i don't have it with me yet... it will show up sometime soon, though... but don't get your panties all in a bunch, it's just some random treepoem... feh... 031222 ... misstree oh no. it's starting again. the wonderwonderwonder and worryworryworry and even squeezing in a little bit of hope. i can taste them both on my lips, the darkling darlings that have roosted in my nest, whose scents drift through the air, incense and sacrament. but neither one can be summoned with mere finger-twitch. each must be called out in their own time, their own way. but the peachfish is insistent, and it has connections in high places, it can spin me like a top if i let it get out of hand. it is strange to be locked in such silent battle with myself, waiting for one darling or another to end the struggle. letter to home: things are well. send meat. need release. do not send search party. i am lost and found. will return when i have drunk myself to death. apologies for the inconvenience. still trying to learn how to be in this world. sometimes it chafes. will send word if i find non-destructive lubricant. hope the suburbs still sleep. remember that someday they will rear up and swallow. thoughtfully yours, changeling child. 031226 ... misstree well, dearest skites, here i am at nearly 10 am on a sunday morning, awake as nobody's business... i didn't wake up until 8pm last night, went to sleep at 10am the day before because i had eaten a fair quantity of mushrooms the night before (overpriced ones, at that) and didn't want to waste the trip. i had spent most of that night being sucked in by televisionlike things, hadn't gotten too much of a chance to really relax and let myself trip, so the surreality at the end was my last blood from a stone. some nice pictures, though, maybe, we'll see when i upload them to a computer and possibly to the piccy site. or another. or upload it to your butt. heh. (i'm allowed to be childish once in a while.) but that's not what i want to write about. right now there is the prettiest piece of meat sleeping in my bed, unmolested i might add. see, she's a project of sorts. to the best of my knowledge, she's straight. but she's a lurvely little goth girl, petite as you please, and she flirts with me just the slightest bit... just enough to put her in harm's way. a while back we drank and i read her poetry, and the lass was quite taken. she was in a bit of a turbulent and torrid time, and i ohsosomehow managed to choose appropriate verses. so i've got her partway around my finger. just the littlest bit of puppydogging. last goth_night, the most recent acquisition to my meat collection (and one i plan on keeping in my bed for a bit, i do believe) was asking about her. he told me to get her into bed with him. i grinned. a challenge. the particular sweetmeat that asked this, we'll call him caesar for his ineffable emperorness, has particular powers over me. see: aloof. this boy has somehow managed to convince me that he's worth letting do horrible horrible things to me. yum. so, he makes such a request, it entertains me to fulfill it. it gets a little more complex. the sweetmeat in my bed, call her emily, she was briefly trying to get into the pants of my head bodyguard. now, he is immune to temptation and his girlfriend's not the jealous type, so it's no biggie, but still. and i have no idea if caesar is emily's type. hrmmm. but plotting plotting plotting in the appropriate manner will yeild at best interesting results, at worst no hurt feelings, because i know how to draw someone into the forest bit by bit. and on to other things. when you talk to god, what do you say to him? the copious amounts of hallucinogens were decided upon by the question, "do you want to trip or do you want to talk to god?" (the only arguments against talking to god were the slight monetary increase and the irrepresible peachfish, which tends to get even more demanding under such conditions). i did indeed trip pretty well, but i found the same problem i've been having a lot lately; i get to this strange state, where i can feel the breath of the world, see the Rightness in things clear as day, Play like there's no tomorrow and, well, hiya god. but what do you say when you get there? what do you do with that state of grace? i came up empty. no revelations, no requests, just having the world at my fingertips and nothing to do with it. and on to other things. i lead a somewhat nefarious and uninhibited lifestyle, i suppose. this has been pointed out several times in recent days, and repetition makes me perk up my ears for patterns. blather only sees glimpses of it... the birthday_orgy and occasional harder drug may gain a footnote, but the real workings of my day to day life don't translate. there's the basic level; i'm a pot smoker and a drunk. not too bad. i don't drink to excess all that often (i'm good at getting shitfaced and no more, and even that is only once or twice a week). i play as i see fit with sweetmeats, though rarely often enough for my tastes. so it goes; i won't compromise my standards, and i especially can't complain when looking at the dry spells others go through. at goth_nite i flit from person to person, mostly ignoring those i have tasted before and grown bored with, alighting for some amount on time to acquaintances, and mercilessly bartering poetry for drinks from the bored or easily enchanted. during the rest of the week i put my brain to sleep with video games or cause random trouble with friends. my thoughts are usually happyplaces, but my personal happyplaces tend to involve people without skin and other aberrations not considered appropriate by the majority of society. i'll spare you the really interesting details. when i tell people stories from recent times, they listen raptly, and a number of my friends live vicariously through me, or so they have said. but to me, this is all just normal life. nothing to write home about, or write blather about if you please. someone said the other day that i was one of the most sexual people they knew, and two people said they envied my sex life. i wonder if it is that much larger of a factor in my life, or if i'm just more open about it. probably a bit of both. i enjoy the meeting of meat quite a bit, and i don't understand why it should be kept hidden beneath the covers. when i change my piercings, i show new jewelry off to my friends--is there a reason i shouldn't? should i be ashamed of my skin? and re the most sexual person comment, i've been watching in the background, and i don't make many of the cheap innuendo comments that seem to be prevalent with many people; it's hard to describe what category they are, except that they're honest expressions and ideas, somehow to me less juvenile than "heh heh... you said smoke a rod...." (juvenile is not always a bad thing. neoteny and cheap_entertainment) on to another thing. oh yes, why precisely i'm wide and awake and alert right now, 10:35 in the morning. the crystal_meth. i've said it before and i'll say it again, far too yummy, it and i lurve eachother very very much, which is why it'll be another six months before i do this again. i know there are some out there who may give me stern looks for my drug use; darlings, worry not, i have my head on my shoulders and it's not going anywhere. meth is like all the good things about energy drinks with none of the bad. all the alert, none of the twitch. an easy energy. lasts a long time (though i personally have never exprienced the 2-day sleeplessness that most people apparently do). makes me feel active. i would be cleaning my room for real right now if it weren't for the sleeping sweetmeat. i wish so very much that this drug weren't capable of destroying me, but i know that if i let myself any nearer to it, it would. quite a shame. ("oh noes, i don't get to be a tweaker! drat.") and on to another thing. i live my life for my own entertainment. that's what everything boils down to. if you haven't figured it out. and on to another thing. but that other thing is freecell. 031228 ... endless desire oh but it's not 10 am...it's 12:30 031228 ... misstree oh. and two more delicious little details about the sweetmeat. she was poking_smot with myself and some others last night, she very rarely does it, doesn't know how to pack a hitter, but indeed does know about the concept of shotgunning... and asked if she should shotgun me. mmm. soft lips. also, heh, i got to see her in her skivvies. twinges of guilt from the high school days, but tough titties, i wasn't leering, just memorizing glances. and what delicious glances they were. "so, i'm going out for a few drinks with this guy on monday, i think you two would really hit it off. you wanna come with?" "i think so, but give me a call monday." heh. *rubs hands together* nosir, i am not a nice person, but i am not a mean person either. just a bit of a plotter when the situation calls for it. mmmmm... gonna go finish cleaning my room (one of the best side effects of any drug, ever). 031228 ... misstree i have officially determined that my ability to see inside people's heads has been robbed from me. that, or all this plotting has wiped it. or i'm just needing sleep and not putting pieces together properly. strange things afoot m'dears, and it will be an interesting few days, with any luck. all i ever ask for is interesting, and i seem to be doing okay on that count... 031228 ... realistic optimist being able to see inside of people's heads is not necessarily something to wish for. especially since, for me anyway, it requires a high degree of empathy, causing the internalization of what you find therein. on another note, wish me luck, i'm trying to find some ecstacy for my mom so she can know what it feels like to be not just anxiety free, but as the hippies put it, "groovy." 031228 ... misstree good luck, dahlink, that sounds like a worthy enough endeavor that the weed gods might take special notice. and i agree in certain senses, but in this case it's more like, er, i dunno... phuck...... words fail me right now. i will expound tomorrow. sleep calls, finally, and i am going to zzzzzzz..... 031229 ... misstree surreal morning... toga party at the insurance company today to kick off the busy claims season... wrapped up in my fuzzy sheet, warm and grinning... my back stings in a way it hasn't in years, my toothbrush is missing so i still taste my playmates from last night, the emperor and the two bubbaloos whose life will never be quite the same, the little one and the goblyn... the second especially has some mental meat to give a thorough chewing... and i have a feeling he will both hate and thank me the next time we cross paths... my back stings and i grin to think that i escaped with the least damage, with the possible exception of the daikitsune behind the camera, but even he garnered beautiful red streaks... and i remember falling to the ground with caesar, both of us laughing helplessly and joyfully, we had found eachother in this nowhere town, and now we had such pretties before us, bitten and bruised and covered with indecent evidence, their worlds tumbling a little closer to ours... we welcomed them to the beginnings of the beyond last night, tender kisses on their wounded flesh... we became mumma and poppie, grinning guides and guardians... darling daddy, hurry here, such scents must be shared, you will rejoice to meet the playmate, as he will you... i had doubts as to the depth of his commitment, we were still stalking warily, but o my sweetness, o my goddess, o my terrible wench, those doubts are so very much dispelled... he has caught my excitement for your arrival, he has caught the scent that seeps through my thoughts... he is bloody brilliant, i tell you, and this town is in such trouble... though he is the pied piper of the apocalypse, i have been both piping and hosting these tenderflesh moments... but while we sate ourselves on the dishes i supply, there is hunting to be had as well, in the scene that he settled into and now is bringing me through... those pretties have no idea what they are in for, especially with the two of us finally fully Here... my back stings and i grin, i laugh unexpectedly and startle my coworkers... no fear of falling this time, i know what is at the bottom, and i know that the worst fate is unfulfilled appetite and boredom... and if that time comes so be it, but for now, every moment is fullest feast, even the periods between carry the tastiest stings... hurry, daddy, the pleasures you requested are cued and ready, friends and nestlings who met you clamor for your return, and those who have not wait in wonder for the first taste of your graces... 040116 ... misstree i must add... king, queen, knight, prince, page, all were present, all were played to the full tang hilt last night, baccanalian delights and depths of revel that defy me to compare them to any other... the surreality has snapped, it is utterly fitting to recline in plush toga and devour chicken carcass, though i'll have to speak to helios about this flourescent lighting shit... life is so Right it hurts... that sting again... and that grin again... i nearly miss misery, its taste is becoming so faded, but i'll take my dear sweet time here in olympus thankyouverymuch, i'll fall when i need to but not a second before... gluttony is like anything else, a state rather than a sin, each instance to be weighed on its own... and what a friggin' feast... 040116 ... misstree i do know how much it meant for you to hand me the leash. and i do know what it means when you say you Appreciate me, and i know how to adjust your pleas to account for alcohol, and i know what kind of fondness lurks and i'll follow you anywhere, but please, not there. anywhere else. there is where monsters live. 040129 ... misstree listening to talk radio... whomever this is, is currently defending our restrictions of freedom by quoting someone who said that we should have freedom to exercise different lifestyles... and using the consensual cannibalism in germany as his flagship... phuck... i think his ilk have a permanent slippery_slope set up the size of friggin' magic mountain... and it is becoming quickly clear what the difference between the two main sources of poltical talk radio that i listen to is... one tends to be very factual, almost no opinoins inserted (though they are there, they are small... still, i keep in mind the bias of the source) and the other, what facts are there are skewed horribly, and most of it is sensationalist and set purposely to lead people to strange conclusions (like if we legalize gay marriage, people will be eating eachother incessantly). le_sigh. 040130 ... oldephebe This is the facile, dishonest tactic of the political demagogue..too few of us listen for the dissonance of fallacy..we're so willing to be force fed fables. Too willing to have our predjudices reinforced w/o thinking critically. While I may or may not have reservations about gay marriage what is condoned in another country has NOTHING to do with consenting adults entering into a legally sanctioned equal relationship. No, I think I will avoid that briar patch and thicket of constitutional conjecture and moral qualification for now. But good point though. Much of what is on "talk radio" induces voilent wretching and incendiary anal chaffing, so no thankyou I'll stick to the sports pages and sports talk for now. 040130 ... RIC *violent..incendiary c h e c k s p e l l i n g !!!!! 040130 ... misstree well, what got me with that especially, is that it's not freedoms of lifestyles that are really being threatened right now, it's freedoms in general... freedom to assemble peacably has been made a mockery, what with such favoritism shown that only one half of a demonstration will be broken up... freedom of privacy has been keel-hauled as well, because ANYONE could be a terrorist... never mind that i'm more desperately afraid of being persecuted by my own government than being the victim of an attack... right to a fair trial... et cetera... these are the things that are being threatened... he was trying to say that if we get too greedy about keeping our freedoms, we'll end up with consensual cannibalism running rampant... it sickens me, the way that minds are manipulated... true nausea, no joke... but, my father instilled in me a first rate bullshit detector, and thus made me painfully aware of the piles of shit and lies around us... and that's where i stop ranting, because i get very very very very passionate about things like this, and at the same time it horrifies me in a way that nothing else in the world can... zo... harrumph... 040130 ... oldephebe Right the rubric of national security being expanded to encompass excavations of our heretofore sanctioned, sacrosanct and guaranteed liberties. slippery slope indeed. This is why i've always felt a kind of vague discomfiture whenever someone started passionately invoking the catchchisms of nationhood, the erecting of an expediancy like raisond'etat or reason of state and national secrurity as a convenient pretext to consolidate power and insure the perpetuation of dogma, current administration. The mouth of the state and corporation feeding at the same corrupted trough. 040130 ... realistic optimist being rather resemblant of the secret_santa gift he received yesterday, the ubiquitous and tall realistic_optimist stepped gingerly onto the rambling roof usually guarded by the fiercesome Mr. EEEEEEEEE! the spry realistic_optimist flitted about the roof as he rumbled the following ramble: it seems the college community and those freaks on the west coast are the domestic strange attractors for people who challenge the dogma with new perspectives. this is the reason that i would really like to see corporate sponsorship of schools cease to exist as a way to problemsolve not spending enough efficiently out of the tax money to properly fund our institutions of education. for the sake of our soon to hit us smack in the face future, i do hope we can rejuvinate our education system. for instance, more consistent availability of school classes in more specialized areas. i was given an opportunity to learn to program basic and learn about computers in the seventh grade, but was not given another scholastic opportunity to learn about computers until college. that is a very visible and not extremely costly hole to fill. (i hope i am permitted to ramble up here as well ;) having exhausted the remaining remnants of his rumbling ramble, the really ticked optionist hopped onto a nearby tree branch, and skittered off into the afternoon. 040130 ... realistic optimist anyone ever participate in one of these? If so, what have you given / received? this year, i received this: http://mywebpages.comcast.net/spamz0r/PenIs/thankyousecretsanta.bmp 040130 ... oldephebe you're welcome to wrestle with rhetoric and exorcise those thorns in the thicket's on ask_oldephebe any time. don't even ask a question if that's your pleasure... 040130 ... realistic optimist oops that was supposed to be under secret_santa, except i was too inebriated to remember to change the title. gg toxins! 040130 ... misstree i am fucking hostile. i have had unusual amounts of aggression for the past few days. the kind that makes me snap without warning, where before i know what i'm doing, i'm threatening to break people. i try to supress it when i see it coming; sometimes it works, but very often i can still feel the venom in my words, feel the lash in my tongue. every moment holds a snarl. i don't know where this is all sprouting from. life is pretty damn good, aside from momentary desperate poverty, and even that is an accustomed state. there is no particular person pissing me off, no particular stress. but i have no patience with anyone or anything, i have constant urges to lash out. i feel like i did back in the days that led to my period of pacifism. this is *not* a good thing. this is more sinister than my usual growling and roaring. this is the kind of thing where i've whipped something heavy at someone's head before i know it, where i snap at friends and rip at throats before i realize what words are escaping. this is the kind of thing where i seethe and seethe and with no relief. i don't know where it's coming from, and i don't know how to release it. i know that if i don't smooth this fur back down, something even worse will happen than already has. but i don't know how to smooth it. shit. hang in there, little tree. something will snap soon, you'll see the dark heart of this thing an sieze and quish it. things change in a heartbeat; just keep a leash on yourself, find your little snake ring, and keep your eyes open and your claws stilled. deep breaths, dear. deep breaths. 040205 ... u24 If you want an easy release, I'll call you nasty names and we can have a good old slagging match? maybe release some tension? 040206 ... p2 heh i was thinking hate_sex would be a better release re-read u24's message and change slagging to shagging 040206 ... misstree hee hee hee hee hee hee hee actually, a mixture of the two (a strange and beautifully crafted mixture, i might add) is indeed what brought my head out of this crap yesterday. the playmate was in an even crunchier mood than i, dangerous dangerous thing, and some interesting toys were brought out to play, and a yummy-headmeat photographer and photomanip artist didn't disturb the nasty little games of water_brothers in the slightest. much yumminess was had. got to shuffle around a bar with my feet tied together a bit later in the night, too. always down for a slagging match or a shagging match, though--ya just gotta import yourself over this way, hon, i can't quite reach ya. 040206 ... minnesota_chris some people aren't designed for an easy life, it makes them crabby. My dad fades away without horribly painful challenges. 040206 ... misstree oh absolutely, the times that i'm not being pushed in some direction or another (whether it be chasing senations or personal evolution or desperate poverty or *something*), i feel like i'm slowly dying, stagnating... i got into a fight with some friends the other day about how they never leave their apartment, never see new surroundings... it's a couple that's been living together for about a year and a half, one person 19, the other 23... i kept telling them that yeast drowns in its own excrement when it makes champagne, and they're not even making champagne... that particular disagreement is still hanging in the air and crackling, they took quite a bit of offense at my tone and insistence, and i really did snap on them (the crunchies i had yesterday were in full force that night), but as whatever weird derivation of a creature of chaos i am, i take it as my duty to poke people when they stagnate... sharks that don't swim, drown... they are drowning in their comfort... uf... but that's another_story, and i have a feeling there's going to be some real ugliness before all is either mended or broken for good... the little one mentioned over on sugarplums likes to play little reward/punishment games... but there's a time and a place for such things, and shit like this is absolutely not it... so i've taken a bit of umbrage in return... gawd damn, i forgot what i was talking about in the first place... no sleep... o yeah... most definitely, some people need challenges to keep them alive... but is there a solid flip side to that? it's a little bit incomprehensible to me, given my nature, but i'm honestly curious for insights... might help me understand what's going on with that whole dealie a little better... and just understand people better...... 040206 ... minnesota_chris some people need normalcy, gravitate towards it. These are the people buying popular music and Eddie Bauer, watching reality TV, keeping tabs on all the stars. Red meat people. 040209 ... Lemon_Soda I have always been most happy in a constent state of pleasentness. This is not to say I simply sit on a log with a dopey smile on my face, but more of an immersion in a simple pleasure that ultimatley has no real effect on my being save a distraction from the nothing. Challenges strike me as daunting if my pleasentness is threatened by a possible outcome of its attempt, and here I find my coward self. Not something I'm proud to admit, but in most instances of life rocking, I prefer to stay tethered to the dock. I'm just excited to have a boat really, and most times that is enough. I will confess that I do enjoy a certain sport that stands to elate or damn me, wich is the blatantly subtle art of socializing. Watching people, seeing their minds, and then molding my playing pieces to fit...but I guess if you have a nack for something, you find yourself wanting to do it more... 040209 ... misstree hmm. i understand, sort of... the need for comfort, to soothe the terror that the mere uncertainty of living and all the incomprehensible acoutrements that it brings up... if you stay in a very small area and don't wander around, you're less likely to be attacked by cougars... ohsohumble opinoin alert... i don't really know that i would consider that Living, though... to me, Life is experience, it's rubbing up against everything i can find... "when we can't dream any longer, we die"... when we stop experiencing new things, we are intellectually and emotionally dead... it's like debating whether someone who is in a complete vegetative state is alive or not... i suppose most would argue yes... but the only life we have is the life of our brain, ya? to live in fear is to live a prisoner, to not truly live... a bird isn't a bird until it can fly... a child has no soul until it has self-awareness and Will and personality... this subject makes me feel like someone has found the place between two bones, where just a little pressure will make the whole system twitch... what good is a boat if you never leave the dock? there are worlds and worlds... i guess i can somewhat understand the desire to stay asleep... the world is a big, scary place... but it just seems like such an utter betrayal to the Self not to explore it, to expand the Self as much as possible, to evolve... "i will not tiptoe through life merely to arrive safely at death"... what else is life for? what's the point, if you're not doing it balls-to-the-wall? is comfort really that fulfilling? no, seriously, i'm not being snide, can comfort fulfill the way that i concieve of fulfillment? (dearest readers should, by this point, have some vague notion of my idea of fulfillment, i should hope)....... i always think of comfort as sleep........ as death, the absence of Life........ if the essence of Life is not Experience, then what is it? 040209 ... Lemon_Soda Assuming there was finite number of simple pleasures to choose from, I would likely agree with you. Life is experience, but nomatter what it is, when you get some thing, you loose something. The more you get, the more you loose. Some times the trade isn't even in the same wares. Money sometimes robs people of who they were. Pain some times robs people of their goodness, enjoyment sometimes robs people of their pain. It can go either way. Ultimately, though, we decide what we're willing to wager, or the experience we're willing to have, but we need to understand that the price isn't set until the deal is done and we are NOT setting the rates. The greater the experience, either good or bad, WILL take an equivalent toll. And before it is said that "well I really like doing this and nothing bad has come from the good I put into it" I would say that thats not the point. If you spend all your time doing this one thing that makes you happy, your missing out on the other deals you could be making with life. Strength of soul comes from those bad experiences, and is in turn part of the recompense. Its not enough to simply be happy. What is light with no shadow to contrast? What significance does love hold barring hate? yet again I agree with you...stagnation bad. But I think alot of people have alot of different views of what stagnate is, and like every snowflake each is unique and requires its own unique cure. In essence, you have to keep trading to keep your shop open, but not everyone can or even wants to be in the fortune 500 hundred. Some preffer Grandpas General Store. New things will come, its the pace that makes the differance. Also, the faster your car is going, the less of the scenery you get to take in. 040209 ... realistic optimist one thing i have enjoyed pointing out to misstree on occasion is that if you are always rubbing up against things, your hide grows rather calloused and you don't feel it as much the next time and the next. whereas, if you rub up against things more sparingly, you experience it more fully when you do. that is to say that if you never rub up against anything, or do it so sparingly that you rarely get the experience, then the slight loss of sensation and fullness of experience caused by the callouses of constant rubbing is worth having the experiences so often. however, if you are merely indulging in excess moderately, it would seem that not having those callouses when you want to fully feel and experience something would be a boon. this line is different for everyone, and as lemon soda alludes, a realistic calculation of gains and losses will help determine where you would like to stand (or swim). 040209 ... misstree Hello. Welcome to Tree's vent time. Need to get some stuff out of my system, this blathe will probably be an even bigger waste of time than my normal drivel. But, if you slog through it, as always, comments are welcome. *smewch* I fucking hate straight girls. Let me clarify that. I hate straight girls that play at being bi. They're all over the place. I made a new year's resolution beginning of 2000 to not sleep with any more straight girls, and i've been mostly really good about sticking with it. get more specific? naw, i wanna rant on this a minnit. straight girls who pretend to be bi to get boys. to be a freak. to be more sexual. fuck them all. yes, as a matter of fact i will. (a toy trip is in the works--rules will change at that point. daddy, i wanna lick your brain soon.) these girls portray themselves as being something that they're not, and in doing so, they're the worst kind of tease, and they give girls who honestly do like playing with girls the same reputation. bicuriosity, i can accept. but i swear to christ, if one more girlie makes doe-eyes at me to try to impress a boy, i'm gonna do her like bambi's mom got done, and then i'm going to violate her corpse and sell pictures on the internet. you're not making eyes at me. you're trying to use me as a pawn. sweetness, do you think i'm fucking bline? i am expert alley cat, and some other interesting heritages to boot, i am so very much the *wrong* person to try to play, especially since my temper runs a bit more cruel than brutal with girls. boys get broken noses; girls get their face to brick walls. (now now, i mostly contain myself, but the things that leak out are a bit of damage in themselves.) i'm certain that there are bi girls out there who are nodding and going, "oh, i *so* know what you mean, i like playing with girls and people don't take me seriously." i'm not talking about kissing your best friend. i'm talking about wanting to take a girl home, strip off all her clothes in an animal frenzy, throw her down on the bed and suck her clit until she screams like an animal. if having a breast in your hand and a nipple in your mouth is your idea of bliss, lemmie shake your hand. if ya play with boys too, great, because of my own greedy predilictions i hope that you either prefer the rare taste of girlmeat to the more easily obtained boymeat, or your preferences simply run that way; there is a comfort zone in boy/girl pairings that so many bi girls find (legit or not) that really throws the balance off. it's all meat. very few really feel that deep down. so. before i run upstairs to smoke, i have to get bitchy for a second. caesar has been accumulating projects. this is a very good thing, in most respects. we both crave variety, and stagnation makes us ill. we're both gorging ourselves right now as much as we can, which is quite a bit. plus, they're pretty little creatures, and if i didn't want to bash them into brick walls so, i would love having them around as eye candy with a brain. but take the one for tonight, as example. the pixie. she was brought into the fold so very thoroughly, this girlie got more eddimication in one night than most people can fit into a month. (i'd love to tell more, but, *raspberry*). i'd already known she was straight, but it's hard for me to not stumble over the comment, "if i ever slept with a girl, it would be you." i know what bullshit it was. it was a night of instruction. no boundaries. so, caesar has taken her on as a project. as well he should, she is a blank slate with much potential. personally, i like her. i think she's a cool chica. she is a chica, moreso than most of my friends with innie plumbing, but s'alright. but two things made me twitch tonight. first is physical affection. i'm relatively reserved for the most part, unless i'm out in drinkinghunting mode. this is the second little girlie in a row who can't seem to keep their head upright, and absolutely must drape themselves over the playmate. i know this sounds like jealousy. personally, i don't believe that it is, and i'll tell you why. feel free to contradict. i use hunting metaphors a lot. it's my paradigm, ya? so, you're an alpha. someone comes up to the pack, supplicant, wanting in. all belly for the other alpha. makes some of the proper displays for you. fine. they can run for a bit. the little omega is constantly baring belly for the other alpha. eats at the kill next to them. barely acknowledges that you could rip out their throat in an instant. i get a bit growly. "ya better recognize!" not going to have my head just there any more. moving right along. so this little pixie and caesar and i were sitting about, watching a movie. he had taken a few verbal clues about what not to do to avoid getting my hackles up any harder (at least give me a chance at liking the girl before i have to put up with that shit, ya?). the pixie was sitting on a couch, meself on a loveseat. he sat next to me. surprised, plus fur smoothed somewhat. calmed. bonus. after about fifteen minutes of this, the pixie makes some comment about how comfy we looked, and came over and sat between us. oh really. she didn't want to sit next to me. she wanted to sit next to him. he and i were barely touching (my foot was under his leg) and she couldn't fucking handle not being wrapped around him. she comes and sits down, drapes herself over him, doesn't even fucking acknowledge my physical presence except for where we were touching when she sat down. i'm going to be terribly rude for a moment. avert your eyes. TWAT, YOU'RE NOT FUCKING BI, YOU'RE NOT EVEN DOING A GOOD JOB OF HIDING YOUR SNIVELING LITTLE UNDERHANDED BULLSHIT TRICKS, AND I SWEAR TO CHRIST IF YOU FUCK WITH ME I WILL DESTROY YOU COMPLETELY, EVERY FUCKING ASPECT, PIECE BY PIECE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DON'T PLAY GAMES, GIRLIE, I'LL RIP YOU TO MOTHERFUCKING PIECES AND PUT YOU IN A BURRITO!!! *inhale *hold* *exhale* *inhale* *hold* *exhale* *repeat a few times* okay. i told you it would be ugly. that's out of my system now. just one more slightly shitty aspect of this whole thing; caesar and i have brain meld very well in a lot of ways, especially re hunting. but he doesn't understand me and girls. (hell, i don't understand me and girls.) though he's observant as hell normally, i'd wager quite a bit that he didn't catch her ploy. and that especially is why i hate girls that play games. especially little wannabe bi bitches. they especailly can choke on my cock. i've got a shopping trip planned. some really nasty thoughts were implanted without my even noticing. some people are that good. *smewches* especially for them. okay, i'm done, time to go be happy and then be asleep. yay over! 040216 ... misstree i just have to add an observation from when i laid down to attempt to sleep after that last rant. it's a powerplay. that's why it pisses me off. the twat knows what the sitch is between caesar and i; being clingy is a way of saying, "look what i'm rubbing on and you're not. nyah nyah." which, fine, in the case of random affection i can deal with it. but flopping down right the fuck between us because she couldn't handle being without contact for fifteen fucking minutes, well, if the sitch were different it would be a blatant cockblock. i don't stand for that shit. nosir. she will be corrected. if she doesn't take to the correction, she will be destroyed. my biggest problem now is trying to figure out what this "subtlety" thing i keep hearing about is before i speak to her; she needs to be corrected but still have a chance at being part of the pack. i like her. i really do. i think there's a good chance she didn't even realize what she did. i don't care. i'll fucking destroy her. harrumph. 040216 ... Lemon_Soda forgive my impertinece but where as I *believe* that I have a farely good grasp of what it is thats gnawing your edges on this one, I would humbly remind the mighty huntress that the not-even-a-cub-yet is still being ruled by her programmed, innate instincts for such things. it would be a remiss judgement to assume that she were challenging you in any way on purpose. granted, some files need to be deleted, some programming needs to be rewritten, and some downloads need to be forcefully etched into her virgin mind, but I've said it before and I'll say it again:never blame a babboon for being a babboon. the comfort of male arms is like a security blanket for the young human female*kind of a foolish thought, to me, considering the male arms she chose*, and you know what I mean when I say young. she can't even hobble about on her own two legs in this pack let alone machinate a challenge. granted, the omega IS treading dangerous ground by assuming one alpha will protect her from the other,and I believe *my wolf side speaking here* it is your DUTY to put teeth to throat and lay down the law. if the little one flees, than she was not meant to run with the pack. if she wisely excepts her position COMPLETELY, well, now we all have a new toy for a bit. Careful consideration to the lesson should be taken, but anytime you plan on reworking someone such is true. I leave it to you, ofcourse, and I'll not pretend I can come even close to your emoting indications, I merely offer my ear and my wisdom, for whatever you deem it worth. 040216 ... misstree hrmm. very good point, soda, and my deep deep thanks for the insight. i disagree that she doesn't know how to play the game; but she is very much a cub, and i am willing to allow that she didn't know what she was doing. your words also brought be a bit more towards the center on how she will be corrected; i know that telling her that i will destroy her utterly is not the proper way to go about it. but neither did the supplicant, "you should correct this because it's in your best interests" seem proper. so, a meeting in the middle; pointing out to her what she did, that it is unacceptable, and it is only through virtue of believing that she did it innocently that i am refraining from taking offense. pointing out to her that elegance is a virtue, clinging is a crime, and if she doesn't play nice then she won't play, may be the proper way to go about it. there are acceptable behaviors, and unacceptable. here is the line. what will you do, little darling? i will still need the playmate's backup on this; the old momma-poppa dichotomy. one can not be scolded by mum and then run to poppa for comfort. it will be a bit strange; i am just now coming into deeper belief that yeah, i've got a whole lot of dom in me... not willing to admit to heritage of either side of the coin just yet, bu this side is still all bright and shiny and unfamiliar as yet. it may be time to flex the jaws a little. most belurved blue lemon, i don't know what i would do without you. act rashly and with limited perspective a whole lot more often, that's for shore. my eternal fond nuzzles and blurry-eyed thanks. 040216 ... misstree and i have to add, on moment's reflection, intentional or not, it was still DAMN rude. understanding is not assuagement. 040216 ... x if i were in that situation, i'd probably "accidentally" make it increasingly uncomfortable for her to be sitting there until she decided it was a good idea to get the fuck up 040216 ... Lemon_Soda yay, it did sound like a cock block to me, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the thoughts I had of what you *could* have done to the poor creature. However, as chaotic as our social paradigm may seem, it still has etiquette, and she tried using a surostitute manuever in the wrong crowd. This is why my usually genteel nature was some what mitigated to the point of knwoing she needed corection, though my instincts always go for the softer side of such things. 040216 ... Lemon_Soda to subtle for miss tree methinks good x. 040216 ... misstree ooooo... subtlety... soda is right, notsogood with the subtlety... i love the spirit behind it, though, and could use the practice... and indeed i think i will employ it... this particular little piece will be coming out to goth night... i think that a few pieces of cockblock and mindfuck flung in her direction may serve my purposes beautifully... ooh! ooh! that's why gawd invented minions! hee hee hee hee! good gears turning, thanky muchly madame... and, for some reason, it sparked the rememberance to reiterate to the pixie, "i don't sleep with straight chicks." she may think she has some measure of claws in me, but really, she ain't got jack. i am trying to make nice with this one, but step two in her schooling will involve knowing when to bare throat and accept subservience... not to mention that it brings me a new opportunity to flex newfound powers... purrrrr, rubbing paws together and grinning... this should be good... 040216 ... Lemon_Soda let me know if aid is required...one thing we do well is plot and your speaking of traps which just happens to be MY forte. 040216 ... . . 040216 ... .fallen :::smiles benignly and pats the Tree and the Soda on the tops of their heads:: 040216 ... misstree calm shattered. is this something i keep letting happen, or is it coincidence aligned with idiocy? is there a basic flaw or is big_momma laughing her ass off? i just wanted a carcass of my own. just one. the pied_piper keeps bringing straight girls to my nest, keeps sharing kills that bear his taint. i just wanted something of my own, something that wanted me, not me_and_he. my jaw dropped when i first laid eyes on her. i was invited to pursue explicitly through strange twists of fate. i had two hours of sleep, and was broken too early to go play. it didn't even occur to me until this morning. walking to work, the thought surfaced that he may have already spoiled the meat, and i put it out of mind, i denied its existence to keep my blessed calm. no denying any more. she's become leftovers. i won't do it. we're supposed to be partners, he knew how badly i wanted fresh blood of my own, and he knew i was ready to chase this one to the ends of the earth for a taste, and without thinking, without intent, he spoiled the meal. i don't want to consider the option that has loomed heavy through the first two enraging offenses, but i cannot shut it out. i don't want to have to weigh the possible against such searing rage and hate and blameless betrayal and desperation and keening cries. i don't want to, but i have to. and i know what possible holds. every color lies there. evolution lies there. breathless grins lie there. caring without comfortable poison and sleeptraps lies there. but oh god i can't be going through this again and again and again. if there were intent, my path would be clear, and i would be knife-hard and take it, knowing that i was acting Properly. but there is only ignorance. and echoed pain. and a wish to change. pain is not an enemy to me. but not all pain is useful, some is poison. i was screaming at him, and at that moment, i hated him. he had destroyed beautiful possibility. again. he had destroyed my desires. again. i am once again reduced to side dish. always. and i can't stand for it, i have refused before being second best, and though this is five worlds different, i refuse it again, though it takes away such a pretty pretty piece. and it will leave black marks and it will fill me with the stench of rot. if he had meant to, it woud be so much easier. if i didn't know that he is indeed idiot enough not to have seen. one path would be clear. if i knew how to help him, if i knew the proper places to push to bring him into sight, taking the path i fear i must would be easier. there is fear either direction. one smells strongly of regret. the other smells of enduring more of this screaming helplessness in the face of deepest wounds. i cannot choose regret. but o, how i hate being here. how free i felt, unfettered, even if starving. but starving is its own hell. and now i am fettered by the ability to be hurt, nothing else. he is the first of his kind that has not intentionally caused my heart pain. he means much to me as an individual; aside from the entertainment he offers, aside from meatplay to suit my appetite, aside from evolution, he has won my care. i can still feel calm drifting though me, a liquid thicker than what rages around it, being dispersed though it tries to cling. i can feel it infecting the parts that are anger, and hurt, and defiance. it calls though storms like gentlest lover. much of me snarls, says "how dare he place that within me," but it was sincere and cherished gift. of course it is shattered. i wonder again if big_momma is tickling her hands in my affairs. ::Of course I am, child, don't be silly. The question is, is this particular set of circumstances my doing.:: sure smells like it. and the kick to the teeth is a mite familiar. but you'll forgive if i don't allow the excuses of "things happen for a reason," and "you'll thank me when its over," to taint my taste of now. ::Why not?:: because predetermination is a moot point. it is a mistake to think that its verity or lack thereof changes anything. i've said it before, i'll say it again: the past is dead, the future is a fiction, the moment is the only point that matters. whether or not there really is some weird roman chick who loves hot dogs making my life weird out there changes nothing. (and yeah, yeah, mooji_moo, eat my cock.) no. enough for now. i will not go out on tuesday, i will not add to my list of hurts unless i can help it, i will not give up on such cherished playmate because he has such a skill for dealing unintended wounds. i don't know what i *will* do, but won't is a start. ::Take mooji_moo with you, then. It may provide comfort.:: i don't know that i want comfort. perspective, possibly. and perhaps the appointed time will bring the need for that more. but right now i'm kicking mooji_moo out of my room with every other source of comfort or light or darkness or anything at all. i'm going into the void to hang my head and hurt for a while. there is more to come. 040219 ... misstree is it just the morning grey clinging and clawing? is it the leftover of some dream malaise? or is there reason for this drowning blah? it feels like sentiment, the kind i don't allow myself. i have a feeling it has to do with the gathering plans tonight; there are games to be played, and i'm just not sure if i'm up to them, especially with the lovely monthly_mess come to visit. i need to be full-tilt. i am walking into this knowing that the most likely outcome will be ugly emotions and twitches and crunch, at least from my perspective. i want to cancel, but this could be interesting... i just need to clear my head between now and then. this morning, everything feels pointless. apathy can't carry this kind of betrayed punch in the gut; and there has been no betrayal. i just want to draw inside myself, curl up and sleep and dream for a time. find the soft void. right now doesn't even have enough energy to be desperation. perhaps that lack of energy is the greatest gift. nothing worse than a bad mood that insits on being loud about it. a little lump in my throat is acceptable. and maybe, hopefully, the day will find me distracted. 040226 ... misstree i need to... there's something missing... something i'm missing... there's a poet's_soul that isn't being fed... there's a potential that isn't being tapped... what is there? what is *there*? discard all mundane trappings; this has been beyond them forever... there is the poet... put that aside, you aren't ready for that, you cringe at the mention of it... there is the pleasure... you have matching drives, and you marvel at his... yet you do not marvel at your own... normal mortals aren't like that, dearie... when you've dated people, it has started off strong (though not nearly as much so), but faded after two weeks to a month... two months now that you've been trading pleasures, and your appetite is undiminished... there were the darlings in new_orleans, but sweetie, even down there it was only every other day on average that things could be arranged... your appetite was voracious, but that was true of every aspect of life... there is a paralell there... but appetite is not the meat of the matter, not what you need to stare down... go look at adultery. do it, you silly git! fine. you've read it a million times, you remember. then we talk about it, yes? the emperor, he knocks you out of your skin. that's what has you all flustered. you know how to deal with it, but you don't... you can cope if it's once in a while, once or twice a week that something that intense crashes into you and pulls at the rather tenuous moorings, but this is being knocked out, and then knocked out again an hour later... this is more than mere screwing, this is that divine crash... but i do nothing with it, my brain flops out, inert and slimy, and slowly gets pulled back in through the elastic tendrils between mind and meat... you have tasted the interesting bits that can be achieved when you focus... you are glutton, yes, and suckle at any pleasure that comes to you, but with merest restraint, two instead of three, such things can be born... and you demand caesar to push, but will not push yourself? unacceptable... you have such sensate tool at your disposal that it may have been hand delivered by half-thought wish, but you play with it rather than applying it skillfully and certainly to the places where it can truly remake... but how to push? purrrrrr... that perhaps demands darkened_counsel, once thoughts have ordered themselves a bit more... but for now? sieze it, thou foul beast, and become more, strain into every moment and devour each bit, pulp and pit alike... present your findings to the playmate, show him the intended path... he will grin and run with you... hold onto your head until you find furthest edge, then leap, but keep tensed, keep control... and of the poetsoul muttering that drip from lips while brain tours about? seal your lips. speak in nonsensicals. burble pieces of forgotten poems. do anything but continue along that path. there is much in you yet that Knows that it is not right to travel. (::Knows or fears?:: feck off, i'll find it on my own terms. there is an even more difficult balance that must be struck for that particular dance.) 040227 ... oldephebe boy you've worked yerself into a real loquacious lather here.. okay so but then broad swath of heterogeneity nothwithstanding and the whole agonizing yet compelling artifacts culled from a life - and yeah far too detailed to raise the red flag of say someone being apocryphally blithe and not to mention virtuosically inventive, febrile imagination and all of its attendant associations but..you know still entertaining in that being riveted to every utterance kind of a way..so on a nondescript day bleeding with BLAH to stumble across this kinda glistening olympian parchment page that has a real kinda fin de siecle vibe to it..not to mention the turtured cadenses..(if i used conflicted here would that render the whole tortured part redundant?)is well not entirely a bad thing considering some of the drecht I've done the abdominal quake to in the past few weeks..haven't exactly injested every iota of this serialized kinda saga..but the few entries i have red..well GOSH i gotta say sure turned the flame up under the ol' cauldron pot..so as i nibble on my non-salted pretzels and seriously consider contemplating how to keep the midnightshade cave behind my eyes from bursting into flames or just simply withering into a nice tidy isosceles triangle of carbonated ash..and i'm vaguely aware that my insectile nibbling on these pretzels with my not narrow shoulders hunched and eyes furtively scanning the room wary of perhaps someone who'd try and violently separate me from my bag of pretzels and the at least affectation of calm it seems to drape across my almost leaping into limbo shadow of a dessicated soul..so i guess i'll eventually work my way through this...some really inventive syntax choices though... i'll bring my gilded ladle the next time i swing through..that is not in a small and agile and cunning primate with vines and a rainforest kinda way..but yea..just kind of a morose, or desultory perusal of blatherdoms daily expectorations...not sure what emoticon would be apt here so... 040227 ... misstree thanky 'phebe... i very often feel like a madwoman muttering to myself in the dark... and in ohsomany ways i am... if i could show you the things that cast these shadows... heh... and the places that fill in the gaps... sometimes i think of finishing each moment out of time, telling how i made peace with that part or that other shifted into something so wildly different, but i come up here to ramble, to cast handfuls of sand into the air and take a picture, that i may capture the feel of this extended moment's beach... and to do that properly, "normal" lexicons would fail utterly, my life and my mind being the flickering flowing things they are, words being the old dead things they are, by dancing with them and setting them ablaze i can draw the essences i need to paint... and i wish at times that some things were not draped in such obscurities, but if i tried to explain... i would be here forever, writing even as life was spinning around me... instead i come up to this roof to talk to the trees, the way i always have, because my windows will not let me near enough to them right at the moment... because there are things afoot that, oh, they are stunning, they are wicked and wild and if i do not sieze them properly they will devour me and run... but any viscera that you can glean from these castoff carcasses... a skull here... a juicy organ there... gorge yourself to intoxication... that's why i leave this pile of bones... digest whatever you can, especially if it has the power to transport you or infect you... dammit, i lost my point in there somewhere... bah..... 040227 ... oldephebe on the whole issue of making points...pretty much think you came across in digital stereophonic clarity..so......... 040227 ... blah-ze you sure came across to me as a madwoman gibbering at falling dusk. but that was fine. it was somewhat mildly more calming and slightly more theraputic than listening to myself in the corner at 4am. (god help us all) being about as religiously oriented as a brick through a church window, i was wondering what your thoughts of such higher beings and all that stuff is? especially in relation to guiding voices, visitations, visions. do they come at night? do you have to do what they tell you to do? or is god like a boss with a boyfriend, always out the back and never watching you? (having fun, tom?) the main point being, i got strange voices ages back, when the jehovah's witnesses started stalking me. then visions. then compulsions. that had nothing to do with sating my earthly desires. (that was fun) anyway, i ignored them. so, did i just fuck the apocalyse and the end of the world and the big ol' grand resurrection and all that? it's been keeping me up all night. 040228 ... blah-ze please refer paragraphs 2 through 4 to ask_misstree. i have my flaggellant flail with me, am now administering punishment. 040228 ... Hal Incadenza the sound of a mind peeling apart in a 'post-modern confrontation with the death of god in me kinda of a way and what's with all the cacophonous badgering by dislocated entities thing?'..have to say this one tops the pile..clearly..it should have like a pedestal with some gold wreath about it and perhaps his own theme music..great blathe.is i guess is what i'm trying to convey.. 040228 ... oldephebe *fidgets in chair, forehead sheathed in seatle post grunge scarf (which needs to be washed and badly, sweat sheen and sickening viscuous sheen pretty much makes that point)and silently curses the insidious tobacco oligarchy that has cultivated and nurtured his dependancy on really pungent and acidic chewing toacco that delivers a really not so subtly narcotizing buzz and has left his gums quilted with sores of various sizes and states of supperating white and yellow matter and so but the fact that gum erosion and swath of supperating gum sores in various states of potential pre-cancersous leukophala lesions..that is he'd say early onset of leukophala lesions if he really could face that liklihood square on - you know squared jawed and implacably pragmatic like...but so he prefers to hide safely behind his having his dentist perfunctorily, that is visually and in no way examine directly with lab tests on excised tissue and render an irrevocable and inarguable evidense of said leukoplaka.this is distressing to him in a kind of distant and definately angst ameliorating cum denial kind of a way you betcha - the addicts addiction enabling respite from the real nitty gritty nuts and bolts consequences of said disgusting addiction coming home to roost and what not..and so but pre-cancerouse lesions notwithstanding he's tried..REALLY tried maybe 4 or 5 times in that radical renovation of an environment and even associations just bordering on 12 step religiosity and rabidity..you know not just really kicking the habit but in that impale it to a projectile and catapult it or something into some heretofore unexplored vector of space with the appropriate and attendant not one but two clenched fists raised in the air and assorted self-esteem eviscerating oaths and suggestions to oh by the way go and copulate with yourself...but you know in a really violent sodomy with a police truncheon kind of a way..virtuosically expectorating profanities with the proverbial "Old Salt at Sea" kind of authority and yet that HABIT has it's tentacles lodged malevolently deep in his stricken body's/souls bio-chemical meatus..and so he's been lucky his dentist says..and he wants to empirically convey to the good if not meddling and not motivated by an inordinate and exxagerated fee structure or the garish and gaping loop holes in the medi-caid/medicare compensation calculus and what not so but that the delivery and dose of his cherished narcotizing nicotine which it goes w/o saying is shunted directly to his CNS..and so that is why he really can't consider now at this lapsed stage contemplating that is separating himself from his cherished oral fixation and addiction..the not too dexterous dentist opines sagely that yes he's been extremely lucky even by really optimistic risk evaluation metrics over a specific time horizon - say 12 months or so would soberly conclude even w/o the excess jowl meat undulating and cellulitic and besides nauseating kind of emitting a sour olfactory echo and so but then even then..w/r/t the whole liklihood of those red and white lesions (which is why he's stop smiling mind you to spare anyone from THAT grisly and yet really efficatious cautionary plackard on the ravages of orally injested tobacco..unfiltered and unencumbered by paper and other chemicals..and not subject to statutorily enforced attenuations of any kind whatsoever of said orally injested tobacco..they don't even need to package it attractively or adorn the utilitarian circular casing with any sexually suggestive inducements or even claims or ANYTHING..chewing tobacco is what we're really talking about here..so..and so the subjects not smiling has caused his mentapausel mother a great deal of distress which in turn metastasizes to him being the recipient of HER distress and so he has to chew even more tobacco to deal with THAT but he's not conscious of those engines of consumption that trigger his tobacco injestion so...but the Dr. says it's a pretty safe bet that the risk quantification model here..that is if you know..you want to deal with nice insoluble, dense artifacts of analysis- that the whole risk quatification model w/r/t to onset and or exacerbation of pre-cancerous legions erupting..metastatsizing into legions that would be pretty clearly now presenting cancerous legions that are rearing back and really letting him have it in no uncertain terms..the key here..the not too dexterous or avuncular dentist continues..the key here is swift separation from the jaws of the dog that has bitten you..he nods sagely very satisfied with this bit of non-medical but nevertheless what he considers to be damned sound advice..he also opines with a bit of professional pique (and why not dammit, he's entitled to after all of the modestly compensated and refraining from exploiting gapholes in said subjects dental compensation plan..hours of laboring in this boys tobacco ravaged mouth and inhaling his rancid breath that aside from the obvious aesthetic disfigurements he thinks his labors really constitute some sort of voluntary compensation from subject out of his very pocket for the dentist..the flaccid and gaseous and leering dentist who harbors vivid fantsies of doing really not nice things to his 24 year old dental hygenist and every patient of his whose starting to display secondary sex characteristics..the leering potentially sex offender dentist is kept chaste by the life his profession affords him and his stolid lutheran consciense and the badgering of HIS mentapausal wife and his 77 year old and quite still shrill but beloved in a grudging kind of way mother..goes on to sagely opine that hiding behind the illusory comfort of perfunctory and inattentive not to mention incomplete visual examinations and not having yet (to the best of his knowledge)having developed any indicia of leukophala - and that continued exposure to said risk in the short and long term would be dire - that's right he actually used the term DIRE and the smart thing to do would be to again remove his ass from the mouth of the dog that bit you..in those in no way uncertain terms is how he put it..and to quit while you're ahead son..and any bipedal of unremarkable intelligence and at least a rudimentary comprehension of the metrics of risk assesment would fall in and play ball he said using the quote 'fall in line' and 'play ball' with considerable professional pique...* aside from all of that..the whole issue of whether to be a really ambivalent agnostic or agressively interogative atheist really kind of eludes him because of all the oral and soul asphysiation issues... I'm speaking about Hal of course 040228 ... oE you know what? this blather pretty clearly does not belong here..m'bad misstree and anyone else who conscientiously and contextually contributed to this page...i don't know what happens with me sometimes i just start typing then when i get finished i'm like what the? Okaayy?...so someone once said i was "..., self-congratulatory.." i'd say i'm probably suffering from an iron deficiency or something.. sooory guys... 040228 ... misstree every time i sleep alone recently, i have woken up feeling Strange. i don't know if it's the newly awakened Thing i keep close through sleep; i don't know if my mind is just doing new little tricks while i'm out. but there's a strange sad calm, and an anxiousness at the same time; like there's something i'm learning, like someone is writing letter after letter and hoping that one gets through... twice recently i have woken to a phrase, as if spoken just into my ear... once, it was unfinished... "the problem with the way that you're seeing Vanilla is..." the other, "sometimes, the rabbit's game is to get the cat to chase it"... strange spins there, still chewing on it, and finding it nutritious... dreamstates are strange things to me, and traditionally distant... i have seen glimpses of the power they hold, castaneda wasn't just whistling dixie, and oh boy have i had some strange experiences... but this recent, um, shift? i don't know... i just don't know... last night was animal dreams... seeking the skin... which is proper, but i know this skin, it is knowledge once learned but forgotten, set aside in the time of the greater sleep... i have refound it... i don't know if i want to apply it in the same way... i don't know if i want to replace the headlessness with that... but yesterday i got knocked so far out of my skin that i started panicking, thinking myself lost... i was afraid of playing more... and fear? hah. fearing something makes it more attractive to me, bookmarks it as something that needs to be Owned... but this... the last snippet of dream last night was hunting at the club and ritualdancing to portishead and ogre pants and an old friend who'd become a lesbian in this particular dreamtime... she asked me if i deemed the night crappy because i was having trouble finding prey or having trouble finding someone to be prey to... i laughed and told her she still knew me after all these years... but these last insertions of dream... they are the signal that it's time to rise... i just don't know... ahem... 'phebe, you trip me out sometimes. it's a good thing. and that was one helluva ramble; good job. ;) blah-ze, oh darling, i'll be back to lick you later. needs must wake up, needs must conference with a spiralled spirit, needs must... mmm... many things... my words will be greedy today... but that is ringing coincidentally clost to many things today... and once i have oozed a few other things out, it will be attended to with zeal... 040301 ... misstree " a madwoman gibbering at falling dusk"... true to the tooth, me own brand of madness i am drunk on every day... some world finds me spewing these same words at passerby from a dark alley... but in this one, i have found somehow to live in the rafters... higher beings... eeeww.... such a stickly point, and one that was just recently a subject of debate with the playmate as well... allow me first to say that there's an interesting take over on ask_use24 in my post on 031111... but not going to just refer you there and end it, especially as that is barest gleaning... oh no... i will always gladly babble on such subjects over and over again, just to see what different facets step forth, and thusly approximate depth perception... one moment... *rummages through the massive piles of random stuff, most of it pretty or shiny, stashed about in her head* a-HA! on blather_red, under 3three_questions_misstree, shadow le crowl asked me a very interesting question (well, there were a whole lot of them, but one in particular that's pertinent)... search for the phrase "metaphysical charlie horse" to see the beginning of my answer... and navigate the rest as you will... now, without relying on anything anywhere in there, because i assume everyone else to be as lazy as myself, what do i think about dieties... you know, as much as i try to say there's a bunch of mumbo jumbo that helps us sleep at night, Big_Momma Eris sure has shown herself to be an agressive little goddess... see mooji_moo... and i have no reason to believe that other gods and goddesses are any less, um, real? i mean, i'm letting a foundation settle, first concrete i've poured since, well, ever, in the factishness of personal energies... even assuming that dieties are just collective beliefs, well, there are some damn powerful ones out there.... that whole yaweh dude probably really has his hands full... but this is blah blah blah... visitations... voices... they come when you are ready for them... night happens to be the time when people are more open to strange things, when reality is a little wigglier, so being more receptive at such times, such things are more likely to happen them... and of course you don't *have* to follow them... you don't have to do anything... but if an incorporeal being of some indeterminate nature decides to pop in and tell you, "hey, be aware of this" or "hey, do this," it might be worth taking a look at it... even if the source of the message is entirely internal, it's a pretty powerful way of getting a message across... example, dreams are distinctly messages from a different part of the brain, and a part that we're pretty sure is glued to the part we're most acquainted with, and even that has troubles getting messages through... so i'd pay attention to guidances... but not neccesarily follow them... there are some pretty weird dieties out there, ya? and really, what matters more than their godhood (or existence), is the fact that thou_art_god, mofo, and that comes first and foremost in everything... just make sure you play by that properly... and i think that the behavior and attentiveness of gods really depends on both their personality, and how much you invite them in... many times it seems like i get momma eris's attention ohso foocking often, but i also live with her concept on my lips and in my head, and expect such a thing... for someone who's a christian only in the sense that they think there is this creator god and he had a kid named jesus who had some great things to say that they try to live by... well, i don't expect them to be having too many intimate phone calls from the big guy... but if it is really a deep part of their spirtuality, something that's a part of their life, that they're open to... that's all it takes, isn't it? and i wouldn't worry about screwing up the apocalypse... it'll come in its own time... things will progress as they Need to... but i would take it as a sign to poke your nose a bit deeper into spirituality... keep an open mind, at all times, and find what is right for you... but i'm also one of those gits who think that having a spiritual life, in some form (even an atheistic one) is a pretty important part of being your own god... it's how that part of the headmeat meets the rest of the world, ya? dunno if this babbling was sufficient... brain is churning strangely these days... many things drifting about... feel free to poke more if anything occurs to you... and just because it's my roof and this just entertained me, i gotta tell y'all... i was just out on a smoke break... two coworkers were out there, relating mutual prudish disgust with such things as girls flashing their boobies (one has a biker husband, and has been at a few of the events, sturgis and shtuff)... you have no idea how hard it was to keep my mouth shut... shock_and_awe, even just if i told them tales from this weekend, like the guy in the stairwell that wanted to screw me, but i insisted he go down on me first... (which he refused, if you're curious)... the meat dangling from the playmate and pixie and i's claws on saturday, that in itself was astounding... the number of times and places that my own chestbutts have been revealed, especially what with the metal decorating them so pretty... and public indecency? ha! there are tales all over this place, and those are just the mildest gleanings... my life is not for everyone, by any means, and at work i keep that part of me safely tucked away (aside from spewing little electronic words), and i absolutely think no less for the disdain they would heap upon me for my life outside here... but entertainment was had by me, and i had to share. (yay sharing!) 040301 ... misstree is shutting up now for real and as long as i'm babbling... are ya ready?... i got girlmeat this weekend! woooooooo hoooooooo!!! *happy happy dance dance happydance happydance* *grins and pants and whees and bounces* there is something so special about good girlmeat... and i get so pissy about all these girls that will mess around with girls but aren't actually bi but claim to be... i can smell them like a fart in a car... and the pixie is claiming bisexuality, and, well, no (see bisexuality for the full rant)... but friday, oh friday, i got girlmeat, the playmate earned 523 pied_piper of the apocalypse points, piped her and left her all to me (though he did watch for the second round, but that was all the better), and i got to fondle and lick such soft soft creature, so skilled, so enthused, so pretty pretty, o gloriousness and gorgeosity, water in a desert i tell ya. *beam beam glow glow* okay... had to brag for a moment... 040301 ... misstree okay darlings, o ye who rule the headmeat... i need to call counsel... there are too many of you to be fighting... and you are all so integral and so cherished... shall we start with role call?... there is the obvious one, the treespirit, the most human of the pack... or most monkey... however you figure... there is the animal skin as contrast, the one who bamfs with bloody jaws, whose eyes flash fire... there is the little man, strange guardian of stranger states... i suppose you and the animal skin share some duties, neh? though animal skin is not so concerned with protection as feeding... and there is the poet... little poet tree... the one cradled, the one who bleeds... and her screams can shake this house to the ground... and she has been asleep... but muttering... and waking... oh god she is waking... but there are other issues first... let me address... the animal skin has been reacknowledged... eyes flash so pretty darling, you are behaving better than ever... is it because you are sated? however it came, it is beyond good... it is glorious like the sun... it makes the whole of me soar... and the little man... he is not so happy... he is seeing himself locked out of the control room again and again, he is seeing what appear to him to be abuses, he is thrown into powerlessness, and there is nothing the little man hates more than powerlessness... being trapped... when he is trapped he thinks he is failing... bad things happen when he is trapped... he pounds and pounds and screams... and the others try to drag him back, to comfort him, to tell him it's okay... but he doesn't listen... my eyes darkened and narrowed on tuesday, i hardened and drew back, from fear and defiance and confusion... the little man was throwing a fit... but he was eventually drowned in drink... just about the only way to put him under... and lost in the confusion of easy revelry, and happy hunts... and later, somehow, the profusion of peoples in my abode was helpful... almost counterintuitive, but Hostess of the Apocalypse has its own invocations... and the next day... he was grumbling, brows knitted, but when he really got upset... it was the one who has been bound and gagged at the bottom of a lake, for her good and mine... who stepped up... and laid her hand on his arm and spoke to him in soothing terms... well, soothing to him... but not to the treespirit and the animal... they were frozen, jaws dropped, a stone in the stomach of wretched fear... like a crazy little girl summoning an apocalytic storm... and not too far off... the poet is half-mad right now... she melts, and reforms, and melts, and reforms... after the horrible but undeniably Felt scarlet starvation of jezabel... it tore out the guts of the tender one, left me with an empty poppet that solves word puzzles so slick and eloquent and lilting, makes paper swans of the other's papers... but her eyes are starting to focus... she is half-mad (at least i tell myself) but her eyes are starting to focus... and it was both... it was the little man's ravings, his horror and fear and anger, and it was the tenderness, the comfort, that summoned her... if only he hadn't held me like that, if only his warmth weren't so soothing, if only i didn't keep hearing muttered trust me... trust me... the soft part would have slept... but like some fucking prince come to wake nasty placeless princess... he warmed ice, and now she pours back into form and thought... and there is so much that is terrible, no, not terrible, just frightening... it scares me and it should but that won't halt me, fear is not allowed to halt me, it will just make me consider some steps more carefully, make me keep my hand buried in animal fur as i pass through this forest... heart beating fast but taking step... after step... there was a dream last night... before the other two dreams... three in one night, can you imagine?... but there was a dream... two animals, doglike but not dogs, were called forth... i know not by who or what... they were in my room... they were huge... they stood nearly to my hip... there were two other possible presences, but not like they... the Beasts were terribly real... but of the shadows, one was maybe almost a person, sitting in the chair, maybe that which brought them forth? i know only a slippery suggestion of a presence... and the other shade... there was almost a suggestion of another Beast... but it flickers... notquitereal... but in this dream... i saw the Two... and knew that they were dangerous... and i put collars on them, as it was my room, my domain... but still i feared... one took the spikes, the ones from howie... the other, it started as the chain collar, and it shifted, sometimes chains, sometimes spikes... they were hungry... they were not benevolent, by any means... they would have devoured me if i had reacted wrongly... they were hungry... i told them to stay in my room, i would bring them food... i went past jon's room, saw dried wet cat food, knew that it was unsuitable, even though the beasts were starving... went into the computer room... this part was fuzzy, but i think there were two people... both very unhealthy... one was really dying... thought of taking his life and bringing the corpse... but it would take too much work to move, and the other would be upset, and he would be dead as well soon, no need to upset him... decided to wait until i had more time in which feed the beasts, they were too close to frenzy... this would be their second meal... found somehow these jewel-like geometric hunks, bigger than my fist, that were nutritional blocks... disliked the idea, such creatures deserve more vital fare, but it was all i had... collected some spilled dogfood nuggets, put that in the two bowls with them... walked back in... they were still dangerous, but each had a bowl already in front of them... as yet untouched... filled with stew-looking dogfood topped with a largish steak... my scavenging had won me veryfew points compared to the fare they had already won, but they were points none the less... but the beasts were still dangerous and absolutely untamed, but collared and notstarving... there was the overwhelming feeling that they were from Somewhere Else... i coudl feel them watching me, judging me, amused... but they were hesitant to attack, even in the beginning, when i was scared and they were starving... i knew not to turn my back on them... there was one point that i remember the feel of rough fur as i grabbed collar, part of Showing the situation, i think maybe part of attaching a leash in some way, maybe from them to something else... i don't know if there was more before dream skipped to leaving playground to walk past friendly church and ranting preacher and confirmation and cardboard sign and the vatican putting things into my brain and suchnot, but there it is... and i didn't remember it until later this morning, just before shower... but when i did... falling facefirst into water, body-temperature... and when i landed, it was thicker... but the shock and immersion... strange strange strange... the poet throws up screens, she knows she is being scrutinized... she is quiet, right now, but mumbling, ophelia on sedatives... she has the ear of the little man... which is good... they occupy eachother... but he will let her get away with... with things that should not be... not those cravings... manda's words echoing, "you know what that type does to you," referring both to carnal cravings and skills, and the deeper tides... and i verymuch dislike that thought, the other "that type"s have been horrid, rending carelessly from the outset, and i knew it... and i threw myself on that wall of spikes all the same... and writhed and bled and blessed and cursed... there is very little cruelty in this one... less cruel than i... more dangerous, but less cruel... which makes it harder to send the dreamchild back to her room, to stay out of it... and when poetess turned in her sleep and sent me scrambling... if i knew what direction to guide her... if i knew what path to have her walk... it would be alright... all directions are open... but tenderness... there is something so painful about this tenderness... and it is a new pain, one i have sidestepped so long... and i know this tightened chest... and i know these trembles... and i am too scared right now to find the path... i know there is one... where is the fur beneath my hand? the animal skin dislikes the poet most of all, unless one rides while the other hunts, chanting ancient and haunting unmelodies, ululations that make birds startle and blood run cold fire... but that is not the herenow... in the herenow the poet stands, face swollen and red, eyes watery but steady but somehow distant, wearing a shapeless shift, staring, staring, something in her hand, pages, fluttering in the wind, wildflowers and leaves... blank pages... eyes staring... not pleading, not asking, but waiting... sadness and strength... but no, no, no no no! no, i don't want that, i don't want it, that is the pain that i know too well, it's the drug that destroys me every time, and every time it sears in a different way... no... tender, the beast whispers... not tortured... tender... find that... tender... find water... whisper to it... not walking on coals... bathe yourself in water... gentle... such strange words to be heard from bloody growl... (and what do i tell him, the tree spirit seeks. as the one who does most of the gaping facehole manipulation around here... what the fuck do i say?) blue-grey eyes rimmed with red slowly turn and focus. tell him this is mine. all of it. give it to him. and fuck your god damned fear. you and the guardian both. fuck your fears. and the animal skin smiles and becomes a little more fond of the dreamchild. 040304 ... oE when are you going to get yourself published mtree? seriously 040304 ... misstree my job is my biggest enemy right now. tuesday_goth_night 's aftermath found me hung over... there are two kinds of hangover that strike me, the headounding stomachchurning kind, and the overemotional kind... this morning was the second. only the thought of the impending trip kept me from saying fuckit and losing my job for a few hours' sleep. got to visit with brother_blue. got drunk as hell. was actually in a very affectionate, open mood. but each affection had an undercurrent, a few sharp teeth hidden where none could see. it is the infection of a place from the past. but no matter. laughter and hugs and a few things more intimate were had, and drinks and dancing and ending stubbornness. we left, and went over to the home of the ended stubbornness. it was good to have done something other than deviant debauch; it was refreshing. the subject of cemetaries came up, and caesar convinced me to go to the place where his family was caretaker for a number of generations. it was cold. the cemetary is a beautiful one, but one that holds strange and not altogether pleasent memories for me, and the woods across the way... *shudder*... more than enough bad joujou there to keep me the heck out of them. we parked. i stirred up my nerve. it was cold. i held his hands a moment and drew deep deep deep of his energies, greedy little girl i was. scared little girl i was. we exited the car and first visited his grandfather's resting place. the Feeling there was beautiful, and i understood why caesar insisted that we would be safe while we were on the grounds; this was their home, caesar and his grandfather and many others. there is a mausoleum set into the side of a hill, staring right at the road, and we made our way over there next, staying on top of the hill. the top was slightly rounded, and about five to seven feet wide, with a raised bit of concrete from the facade. there was a vent stack in the center, and behind that, vegetative manner had piled almost as if deliberately, a cross between a collection and a compost pile. something seemed to hum in the air looking at it; it may have been me, it may have been that i had given my trust over, once again. summoned forth a bit more of my reserves. took caesar's hand, and together we stepped onto the ex-greenery, and forward past the stack. the transition was as smooth but distinct as walking into a warm room. things were clearer, brighter, and yes, there was distant muttering, undeniable. caesar and i may have exchanged words; i remember little, except for him telling me more than once not to let the voices pull me too far, not to let myself get sucked in. i was awed, but a bit scared; i summoned Nobody, bitch of a guardian that he is, to keep an eye on me. i see why caesar gave his warnings. i squatted down and held my hands above the concrete; it was a misty sea of feelings/beings, muttering, beautiful, fascinating. though my meat stayed still i felt mySelf tipping forward, and Nobody looped a burlapandstrap arm around me, which i leaned onto like a child at the railing of a boat, trying to stare deeper into the waters. caesar told me again not to drop too far, but i was allowing myself liberties with my pseudoguardian there. he told me to pick one voice out of the murmurs. it was there immediately, as if waiting for me to focus. saying voices is perhaps misleading; there were no words; there was just essence and flavor. the essence that presented itself was a woman, no, a girl. she was in her late teens. she had been voilated and killed, but she was so accepting, so regal, it caught my breath. there was a kindly glow to her that one normally only finds in the most loving mothers. i opened myself to her, and she shared her essence in more fullness. marcus again gave warning; don't let him take too much, he said, and i was confused by the gender (there was apparently another essence shouting for my attention, but i was compeletly focused on the girl). Nobody was still with me, nestled against my back, still keeping me restrained. caesar told me to put my hands on the concrete below us. i did, and gasped. it was so cold i was half convinced my hands would freeze to it, but the feelings... i gasped as i normally only do while engaging in physical intimacies, and there was a paralell there... there was so much energy it was filling me... i wish i could explain better... caesar said it was time to go, and i was reluctant... he told me to say goodbye, and my heart kissed that sea of selves deeply and passionately. we stood and crossed back into the main part of reality, and i felt like something had been stripped from me. we walked to a small monument area with some benches and discussed the strangenesses that had happened. while we chatted, i kept feeling like my back had been laid open from shoulder to shoulder, and something was taking meaty bits out. not pain, but losing pieces, losing essence. i knew this wasn't a remnant from the mausoleum. this was my cantankerous guardian. i kept quiet about it, aside from asking for silence twice while we sat, so that i could deal with Nobody a bit better. i tried sealing off the breach, but moments later it slid back open. i tried throwing up a shield, but it would dissipate. i tried flat out telling him no, but it went unheeded. caesar suddenly turned and spat behind me. "there was something there, it might have been something that followed from the mausoleum." i spared only a short wide-eyed glance; as soon as he spat, nobody darted back, nearly hissing. an image came to me from a verystrange recent dream, where i had torn Nobody apart and taken out a small bat-version of him; this bat-version was plucked out of the air and held in my teeth, a cat with a bird it doesn't yet want to kill. caesar kept talking, telling stories of his youth, and my mind raced to find some way of dealing with the tiger i had by the tail. i thought of the woods; i thought of the last time i was in there, when a bare misstep found my leg slipped so far down that my other leg was too far from my balance to pull myself up, when i was scrabbling with claws and toes to pull myself back on the path, and it was only the grips of my friends that reversed my slipping. i found that and i thought of it. focused on it. and sent Nobody after it. it worked, though he was rather unhappy with it; his idea of proper payment had been denied. i had the inkling that he would be taking his toll in my sleep; i can't say if he did or not, as there was barely two hours, and it was in quite the drunken stupor. on the way back, i remember little of the conversation. i remember telling caesar, "fuck you," and mumbling something about trust when he asked. i know that i was in drunken honesty mode, but i don't know guarded i stayed; i'm sure it was more than i usually manage in such a state. we brought food back to my place, ate, and slept next to eachother for a time. in the morning, the very last thing that i wanted to do was wake up. even morning_sex wasn't enough to clear the terror of work out of my head. i just wanted to sleep, and i desperately wanted to sleep next to *him.* it was a close call to keep myself from bursting into hysterical tears at the prospect of working today. it was only the thought of boulder that kept me from sacrificing my job for a morning's sleep; just a week and a half more, and i get a vacation. if i lose it before then (and this was close calls two days in a row), i can't afford the train tickets, i don't get paid to roam. pray that i get the job at yellowstone, darlings. it's my lifeboat off this island in corntown. and i try so hard not to think what it'll be like leaving caesar behind. but there's no way i can stay, and there's no way he can stay. i just entertain the notion that it's possible we'll end up in the same place. and if not, well, c'est la vie. but i need out of here. this town is dead, and it's killing me too. 040310 ... sameolme I have no idea of what is real or what is pertend, I think that is as much a tribute to your writing as I am capable of giving. Your mind must be an exhausting place to live, please take good care of yourself. AFool 040310 ... misstree thanky muchly, i recognize the depth of the compliment... sometimes i'm not sure what's real and what's not, either. not in the fabrication sense, i don't have time to make up stories; hell, only a fraction of the strange dances actually make it into words; but in the sense that i tried very hard for a while to be an atheist, and retain a lot of my skepticism, so i don't know how much of what i felt was hyperactive imagination and what was real... but time and experience have shown me how to allow flows and how to hear the voices that atheists don't accept... and years have shown me that those voices are more than just murmurs in my head... so many strange things not allowing me to turn away... mooji_moo and aleatoric_concinnity are just the winds in these strange lands... i set these things down so that when memories are forced out by the creation of new ones, some evidence remains of what i ahve witnessed... things fade so quickly... and yeah, my head is a pretty exhausting place to live, sometimes... it's not that i put a particularly huge amount of energy into quick thinking or mulling over the moral quandries in life (though i do get enough debate to keep my soul warm), but just taking part in this wickedcrazy play is a lot to keep up with... and i've got some pretty strange headspaces going on and i seem to have lost the manual somewhere... probably scribbled a poem on it sometime and lost it... i do take good care of myself though... one of the advantages of being unabashedly selfish, it makes it easier/more natural to do things that are Right to the Self... 'phebe, i didn't even see that last comment until just now, skimming back up... i don't often reread this page, or even glance back... i don't think i really have anything publishable... i mean in theory i could put something together, but i have no desire to write a novel, i don't write stories (other than telling_tales and another_story), and i consider most of my poetry a bit short of really being There... none of this bothers me, i write what i write because that's what misstrees do, but that's why i'll probably never be published. *shrug.* 040310 ... misstree i feel terribly tender in the cubicle farm today. it's friday, people are in a good mood. but each voice i hear, each reminder of human existence, and especially existence outside this mood, is painful, is a kick to the gut. i curled my lip all night at the darling playmate last night. just because i could, because i was apathetic enough that i wanted to see him hurt, just to see if i could do it. today i am a wreck, and i am ashamed of the utter lack of control i have over my headspace. i want to curl up and just have someone comfort me, but all of my water_brothers have issues of their own to deal with. i feel like an utter and complete shithead. bah. going over there now. blather doesn't need to hear me bitch and moan and mope and wail either. 040312 ... mt i feel useless because i can't help my darlings. which makes me feel like more shit. which makes me even more unfit to help my darlings. which makes me feel... 040312 ... sameolme and that is much more than good enough 040312 ... misstree no, it's not. because my darlings are still hurting, are still getting beat down by life. and they've always been there for me, i so verymuch want to know what to tell them, how to help them grab these horrible circumstances by the balls and turn them around, but not only am i clueless on a daily basis, today i'm just this fucking sponge that keeps suddenly leaking out of the eyeballs for no reason, that can't even talk to herself coherently, much less any other human being. it's not even that there's anything wrong in my life, aside from me being a fargin' idiot--that would make things a little better, if i had a reason to be this shitty. makes me want to start punching myself in the face. and once again my sorries to blather for puking this up here. 040312 ... misstree no, it's not. because my darlings are still hurting, are still getting beat down by life. and they've always been there for me, i so verymuch want to know what to tell them, how to help them grab these horrible circumstances by the balls and turn them around, but not only am i clueless on a daily basis, today i'm just this fucking sponge that keeps suddenly leaking out of the eyeballs for no reason, that can't even talk to herself coherently, much less any other human being. it's not even that there's anything wrong in my life, aside from me being a fargin' idiot--that would make things a little better, if i had a reason to be this shitty. makes me want to start punching myself in the face. and once again my sorries to blather for puking this up here. 040312 ... misstree is drowning god dammit i don't want to need anything, i want to fucking heal but i keep getting kicked in the teeth by today, smile_its_all_going_wrong but i don't have anything to smile with, my teeth are all scattered all over the floor and god dammit there better be something good at the end of today, i mean i know there will be cheap vodka and a spiral goddess but i'm useless to everyone especially myself right now and if one more thing breaks down on me i don't know what i'm going to do, i was already crying in my little cubicle before i got called back to have a talking to, it could have damn near gotten me fired so i guess that's a blessing but shit, i just want to hold onto this job until i know i can go to yellowstone, i just want my vacation, and god dammit i still haven't gotten my wisdom teeth out because i'm a fucking idiot and please please please please please let this be the beginning of this day getting better, please please, i need a turnaround. any other weekend, any, but of course the hammer comes down when i most want to be soaring on clouds with the darling i only have for a day and a half. fuck fuck FUCK. it's all going wrong and there's nothing there but jagged rocks at the bottom and i half expect to hear laughter from yellowstone as they look at my app and know i fabricated the one thing i wasn't sure if i should, and shit i don't know anything anymore. i know i want vodka. and i know i have red wine. and that will have to be enough. 040312 ... sameolme I love you 040312 ... misstree shit. sorry. and thanks. that was happy tears for a bit and desmond_dekker reached a hand down and brought me sniffling back to being nearly human, so i'm doing a bit better. someday i'm going to learn to ignore my own weird emotional flux. gawd i hope not. that was yesterday. apathy is death to me. 040312 ... misstree ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod leaving in less than a month kinda freaking out (kinda?) spent part of last night in hysterics interesting experience, but i'd really like my brain back please, it's still on a train somewheres and i need it back to comprehend less than a month three tuesdays fleeing this town and getting rid of half my earthly posessions and doctor's appointments and leaving the boy just when i was really getting attached (a mistake i knew i would make, fuck you, big momma, and i love you too but shit, this is all crazy) and i'm not dealing well at least for today but i get a little grace period of freak-out time, just a tiny little one, and gawd damn i'm gonna use it to freak the hell out really really badly and right now is it. 040331 ... oldephebe mtree i hope you do decide to get published...your stuff is better than some of the ivory tower treacle bonded by servile spittle, between cardboard covers.. i like it raw...i mean you know the gore gushing out of the gash in our lives... you have the truest soul of a poet... ... 040331 ... misstree isnt even in her left mind one particular junebug fairytale involved me getting a sheet music stand and selfpubbing a few chapbooks and just being a street poet again, selling spoken and printed words, seeing what i could do with it... at the end of the boulder stay, the playmate and i were dead broke, couldn't afford the bus back to denver, so i found myself on the streets again, singing for spare change, offering redhot soulflesh to the disinterested and disinclined to show monetary appreciation, no matter how desperately it was needed... it's a very deep emotional trip, and cherished for that, but gawd damn is it a roudh ride... being a poet, whateverthefuck that means at any particular moment, is a fuckng nasty curse... nasty nasty... throw her back in the river... naughty little thing... 040331 ... misstree it's cold, so cold, up here. my mother has amazing powers to depress. the suburbs help. i'm sick with wanting comfort right now. i wish i didn't have to deal with coming up here, i don't feel bad anymore about being stressed about leaving. "my parents don't understand me" is such a cliched cry, but really, they think that i should have the same goals as they, the same values, the same style, they think that their way is the right way and they don't realize it's right *for them*. my heart is too naked right now. too many things waiting at the door to devour carefully cultivated calm. i should go to bed. it might be warm in bed. warm enough for me to forget longing for flesh with a time bomb. won't let the time touch me. i'll let it slice later, but in the meantime, each moment is sweetest savored fruit. warmth. i need warmth. 040409 ... misstree i told caesar that i would give him a copy of the consumer, if he could make me write something as passionate. let me rewind. drinking with weirdfish tonight (hi, darling), discussing the reasons we weren't quite right for eachother. the most striking things were all aspects that caesar and i share; lack of desire for monogamy, boredom with vanilla, glee associated with brutality... there are other aspects, too... caesar's brain breaks sometimes, a glorious reminder not often found in the engineer types... and his understanding when my own breaks... and the peachfish's continued insistence for his attentions... to know that it is possible to love without tearing my hair out, that someone like he, no fuck that, that he exists, is worth more tortured poetry than i could ever hope to write. leaving will be terribly rough. but i leave to evolution. i may have him cut open the places for my wings for me. i will have his mark, regardless. i will fool myself until the last moment, i will keep away torrents that would steal precious time. two weeks. two short weeks. i will keep him close through each possible moment. afterwards, i will dream and i will hurt, but for until then, there is no afterwards, only right now. the poem is his. i haven't a choice, and that is proper. 040410 what's it to you? who go blather from