Desultory and Impulsive
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Icy1
Wandering through.
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Maybe you should charge an entry fee.
y=mx+b
___________
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The thought of doing so and making a business out of whatever it is about me distracts me from thinking about pushing thumbtacks directly into a woman's nipples in the interest of seeing how her breasts would look tacked to her ribcage.
y=mx+b
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I guess I could do an internet search and no doubt find such an image somewhere--at some point.
But it's just not the same as doing it yourself.
I want to see her
I want to hear and feel the sharp point of the tack pop through to flesh of her skin
I want to watch her reaction behind the window of her eyes and whisper "shhhhh..." softly against the outer lobe of her ear and feel the sound of me doing so surround what she may be feeling with a comforting warmth
I want to feel her being okay with me--not being okay with her
And all that
Cannot be found online
It has to happen.
And I want it to happen.
But it's just not the same as doing it yourself.
I want to see her
I want to hear and feel the sharp point of the tack pop through to flesh of her skin
I want to watch her reaction behind the window of her eyes and whisper "shhhhh..." softly against the outer lobe of her ear and feel the sound of me doing so surround what she may be feeling with a comforting warmth
I want to feel her being okay with me--not being okay with her
And all that
Cannot be found online
It has to happen.
And I want it to happen.
rubydlite
*poof*...mostly
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Sometimes I think the universe keeps intense souls miles and miles apart just to keep the depravity level down...
I know it's an Internet search...but I've admired this often...
https://68.media.tumblr.com/be51f7ca9422dfbce355bc8c01fdb16b/tumblr_odt76uYNfV1ro1iqvo1_500.gif
y=mx+b
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I really don't want to be awake right now...
...and I feel there to be a lot of truth to this.
...and I feel there to be a lot of truth to this.
y=mx+b
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As it turns out...
I kinda like gently pulling back the hair of an inebriated woman as she leans out the side the car door and pukes.
Brushing the loose strands away from her face between her heaving... feeling her humiliation, regret, silent empty promises to herself that she'll never drink again.
Feeling her appreciation.
There's a certain intimacy
One no man should ever take advantage of
Or abuse.
I kinda like gently pulling back the hair of an inebriated woman as she leans out the side the car door and pukes.
Brushing the loose strands away from her face between her heaving... feeling her humiliation, regret, silent empty promises to herself that she'll never drink again.
Feeling her appreciation.
There's a certain intimacy
One no man should ever take advantage of
Or abuse.
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I feel the same. And I don't scare.
Maybe, it's my need to be a voyeur upon your intensity and hunger for your muse.
y=mx+b
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I do hunger for my muse
And it hurts
So much so
It has become profoundly difficult
To write
Like I once did
Because she is gone
All I have left to write about
Is my own stupidity.
And whenever I do
I feel her reading me
Before it's all been written
And I hear her inside me
Saying... "yep... you did this--you made this so it will never be the same."
And I retreat back under the eaves
To never be fully seen.
And it hurts
So much so
It has become profoundly difficult
To write
Like I once did
Because she is gone
All I have left to write about
Is my own stupidity.
And whenever I do
I feel her reading me
Before it's all been written
And I hear her inside me
Saying... "yep... you did this--you made this so it will never be the same."
And I retreat back under the eaves
To never be fully seen.
y=mx+b
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y=mx+b
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All the posts I write
Only to delete afterwards
Are actually copied and sent to my little super secret journal app.
Nothing is lost
So far there has been two new entries.
I find it an interesting psychology
In that it seldom goes the other way
I find it interesting
And frustrating
That I cannot write so freely anywhere else but here on my shit-hole of a thread.
I have ventured out onto instagram a bit
But it kinda weird me out to write like I do here -there- amongst the photos and posts of everyone's family outings.
It's a bit of a buzz kill
That said... I love, love, LOVE it when someone I've trusted to included into my little web of whatever the fuck i do--likes something I've done.
P.s.
I hate it when my wife works nights.
Only to delete afterwards
Are actually copied and sent to my little super secret journal app.
Nothing is lost
So far there has been two new entries.
I find it an interesting psychology
In that it seldom goes the other way
I find it interesting
And frustrating
That I cannot write so freely anywhere else but here on my shit-hole of a thread.
I have ventured out onto instagram a bit
But it kinda weird me out to write like I do here -there- amongst the photos and posts of everyone's family outings.
It's a bit of a buzz kill
That said... I love, love, LOVE it when someone I've trusted to included into my little web of whatever the fuck i do--likes something I've done.
P.s.
I hate it when my wife works nights.
y=mx+b
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Cold so it air
Done right sleep tight
This and that and I want to be asleep
Morning words
Victory is held
Somewhere
In every broken heart
Bound to protect a self so unsure anymore
No time to read what work there is to be done
Not in a town so discounted
With throw-away fly-over people
Deep in a thought
To forget their own
Sensuality
Sex happens without ceremony
And a notion of it is just marginally remembered
By a memory card kept tucked away
In a hope to somehow make it better someday
With someone unknown
But known enough to long for
An image
A feeling
Brought about the heart
Upon a summer scent
Sold all too cheap
To whomever would take it away.
Done right sleep tight
This and that and I want to be asleep
Morning words
Victory is held
Somewhere
In every broken heart
Bound to protect a self so unsure anymore
No time to read what work there is to be done
Not in a town so discounted
With throw-away fly-over people
Deep in a thought
To forget their own
Sensuality
Sex happens without ceremony
And a notion of it is just marginally remembered
By a memory card kept tucked away
In a hope to somehow make it better someday
With someone unknown
But known enough to long for
An image
A feeling
Brought about the heart
Upon a summer scent
Sold all too cheap
To whomever would take it away.
y=mx+b
___________
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But WAIT! There's MORE!!!
I confess to wondering if I let you all down sometimes.
As if you all--or some of you all--are like "he posted!" and then you read what I wrote and are all like... "well that one kinda sucked."
Believe me. I hate when I suck. Granted, I don't care all that much. there would be way less of my thread if I dd.
As much as I come off as writing for myself, I am also writing for you. And I know when I suck.
On my way to feeding the chickens I got to feeling stupid that I don't post more pictures of myself.
Then I got to feeling stupid for having posted pictures of myself.
Who cares?
What of me is already out there
And it's all such a pain in the ass
When I get as much feedback by simply writing.
I confess to wondering if I let you all down sometimes.
As if you all--or some of you all--are like "he posted!" and then you read what I wrote and are all like... "well that one kinda sucked."
Believe me. I hate when I suck. Granted, I don't care all that much. there would be way less of my thread if I dd.
As much as I come off as writing for myself, I am also writing for you. And I know when I suck.
On my way to feeding the chickens I got to feeling stupid that I don't post more pictures of myself.
Then I got to feeling stupid for having posted pictures of myself.
Who cares?
What of me is already out there
And it's all such a pain in the ass
When I get as much feedback by simply writing.
y=mx+b
___________
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I had an interesting thought/realization while listening to NPR this morning on my way to work. The program was about how girls are all taught to "go get'em" and the push for gender equality and the whole "lean forward" thing--and how there's no real male equivalent... how women girls are being groomed that they can be and achieve anything... meanwhile boys are not encouraged to be nurses, nursing assistence, teachers, pursue barber/cosmetology etc...
It was an interesting program I didn't get to finish listening to. Equally interesting is that on my way to work I passed by a woman in a yellow vest doing some ditch work along the highway. Ive been meaning to mention how im seeing more women working road costruction. On the one hand it's cool. On the other hand I find myself thinking old fashion type thoughts which if I were to say them there'd be no way for me to say them without coming off as some kind of dick.
Mostly I think that it sucks that for some woman... such work is for one reason or another, their only option.
Women are tough. I'll tell you that outright and right now. Which kinda brings me back to my interesting thought/realization. That being--I know/know of way more men that have taken their own lives over a broken heart than I know/know of any women.
And I got to wondering why this is.
It was an interesting program I didn't get to finish listening to. Equally interesting is that on my way to work I passed by a woman in a yellow vest doing some ditch work along the highway. Ive been meaning to mention how im seeing more women working road costruction. On the one hand it's cool. On the other hand I find myself thinking old fashion type thoughts which if I were to say them there'd be no way for me to say them without coming off as some kind of dick.
Mostly I think that it sucks that for some woman... such work is for one reason or another, their only option.
Women are tough. I'll tell you that outright and right now. Which kinda brings me back to my interesting thought/realization. That being--I know/know of way more men that have taken their own lives over a broken heart than I know/know of any women.
And I got to wondering why this is.
Icy1
Wandering through.
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- Jul 30, 2014
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I can only speak for myself here. Let me down, no.
Write about things I find distasteful, sometimes, yes.
Other things you write I identify with so closely only, I could never find the right words to express it myself.
As for your pics, you should still make the effort I think. They have such a lovely quality to them.
Ouch!
Personally I think children aren't being taught resilience these days. It's worrying really.
I wonder if more women feel able to expose their weaknesses and talk about them than what a lot of men do.
y=mx+b
___________
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Back to the subject at hand...
Although resilience and venting of emotions certainly play a part, but here's some phrases that pretty much capture how boys/young men are taught resilience...
"Cowboy-up"
"Buck-up"
"Chin-up"
"Grow-up"
"Man-up"
"Push that shit down"
"Walk it off"
"Deal with it"
I could go on.
Pick any one of those and outline for me how a man can (free of any sense of shame) go about being open with his emotional feelings.
Although resilience and venting of emotions certainly play a part, but here's some phrases that pretty much capture how boys/young men are taught resilience...
"Cowboy-up"
"Buck-up"
"Chin-up"
"Grow-up"
"Man-up"
"Push that shit down"
"Walk it off"
"Deal with it"
I could go on.
Pick any one of those and outline for me how a man can (free of any sense of shame) go about being open with his emotional feelings.
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