Desultory and Impulsive

[raindancer]

Is it the fragility of fear that appeals to your carnal instincts? Or do you enjoy any sort of vulnerability?

 

[y=mx+b]

Oh fuck...

 

[y=mx+b]

I'm tired
I'm sick
And I sure as fuck do not want to go to work tonight

But nothing spreads a woman's legs faster than a working man.

 

[y=mx+b]

Of the many things I think about, one of them is the number of individuals there are in the world.

Each of them
Living their individual lives.


I have an online friend of sorts
A photo friend from another site

Well... he's a guy I follow


Anyway... I've known of him and his work pretty much my whole internet life. We've exchanged pleasantries. Shared ideas. Appreciated each others approach to seeing things and capturing their specific moments... freezing them into pixel formation to be glossed over by passing eyes...

I live vicariously through him. And I like to think that he does as well through me. Even if... not as much.

Each year around this time he and his wife attend fantasy fest down in the Florida keys... or wherever it is held.

He takes pics and short vids and I look at them.

Friends, strangers, women in various states of nakedness. Festive, social abandonment. Swingers, etc...

A large group of individuals en mass doing en mass things and feeling individual about such thing protected by the number of others doing just that.

Looking at his images I'm struck with a similar feeling I used to feel when looking through the photos my father would capture during his trek out to Sturgis.

Except now...
I see it all differently



There's just a lot of people.

And that's a lot of people with their own stories
Their own longings

There's so much and so many that it's comforting to me
But at the same time... sad.

Sad in that... what is it that we long for?

Take one person out of any crowed
Are they wanted?
Are they loved?
Or have they been forgotten about?
What is their heartache?
Could they fall in love with you?

So many points
Of individual intimacy
So many moments about them
That you will never feel

So many moments that you once felt
With another
But no more

But can again
And will again
Because that's how it goes

 

[AmazingLost]

So many moments that you once felt
With another
But no more

But can again
And will again

But what if you can't? What if that's gone forever?

 

[y=mx+b]

But what if you can't? What if that's gone forever?

All there is to do then
Is take comfort in knowing you are not alone.

There's a shit-ton of individuals out there.

 

[raindancer]

Thanks for making me cry.
Again.

 

[AmazingLost]

All there is to do then
Is take comfort in knowing you are not alone.

There's a shit-ton of individuals out there.

Or connection is just an illusion.

 

[Mrgl720]

Of the many things I think about, one of them is the number of individuals there are in the world.

Each of them
Living their individual lives.


I have an online friend of sorts
A photo friend from another site

Well... he's a guy I follow


Anyway... I've known of him and his work pretty much my whole internet life. We've exchanged pleasantries. Shared ideas. Appreciated each others approach to seeing things and capturing their specific moments... freezing them into pixel formation to be glossed over by passing eyes...

I live vicariously through him. And I like to think that he does as well through me. Even if... not as much.

Each year around this time he and his wife attend fantasy fest down in the Florida keys... or wherever it is held.

He takes pics and short vids and I look at them.

Friends, strangers, women in various states of nakedness. Festive, social abandonment. Swingers, etc...

A large group of individuals en mass doing en mass things and feeling individual about such thing protected by the number of others doing just that.

Looking at his images I'm struck with a similar feeling I used to feel when looking through the photos my father would capture during his trek out to Sturgis.

Except now...
I see it all differently



There's just a lot of people.

And that's a lot of people with their own stories
Their own longings

There's so much and so many that it's comforting to me
But at the same time... sad.

Sad in that... what is it that we long for?

Take one person out of any crowed
Are they wanted?
Are they loved?
Or have they been forgotten about?
What is their heartache?
Could they fall in love with you?

So many points
Of individual intimacy
So many moments about them
That you will never feel

So many moments that you once felt
With another
But no more

But can again
And will again
Because that's how it goes

I find myself thinking like this far too often

 

[y=mx+b]

Or connection is just an illusion.

Connection is as much of an illusion as disconnection is.

Which... is not at all.

 

[y=mx+b]

So...

to continue on with my thought of sorts...

I love trailer parks.
I do.

I love them.

If I lived in one or had I lived in one
My love for them would probably be non-existent

There is on near where I work.

On my way to work there's hardly a car parked next to any of the trailers.

On my way home from work; late at night, cars, some two or three, are parked near each trailer. Some are parked on the street.

Each trailer.
A couple.
A little family.

Or... just some guy trying to make it
Or a woman tired and alone.

An old man
An elderly woman

Neglected children

Who knows what all gdoes on in trailer parks.

What goes on
Doesn't matter

What matters
Are the individuals

Making due
With what they have
And the longings they feel.

I love the parks
Because nothing is hidden

No condo walls
Or cars hidden behind garage doors

No apartments waiting to be filled
No empty McMansions on a characterless cul-de-sac


And so I lay here on the couch
Cozy

Thinking about them



Thinking about connecting
And disconnecting

And wondering who wants what and why.


Who wants to connect with me?
Who wants to get to know me
And feel my words as they are being read

Why.


I am just another individual.

Like you.

Like them.


Nothing special.


And just as easily disconnected from.



But that's what we fear
Right?

We long to connect
In hopes that some how
In some way
The connection sticks
And holds
And lasts all throughout time and ever beyond


But it doesn't



A couple weeks ago
I noticed that one of the trailers houses had gone missing.

The little lot sat empty for quite some time.

The park
Was no longer a park



Soon after
A new trailer was set into place


And had I not known
I'd know no differently

 

[y=mx+b]

The night has come...

...and soon they will be out
Stirring unseen sounds in the dark...

Shadows rubbing up against shadows
Quieting the caw of crows

Grab what you can

 

[raindancer]

Missed connections
Or imaginary memories
Fingering my brain
Tickled tears
Wondering whether
One-sided words
Really ever matter

 

[y=mx+b]

Intermission

 

[Lillycane]

Intermission

Consider yourself at 100 problems and counting, you're discriminating against Canadians

 

[y=mx+b]

Not available in your country?

That's unfortunate.

 

[y=mx+b]

Laying awake
I stare blank up at the ceiling

There
Cast across the black sky
Is an "X"

Perfectly centered
Over the bed
Spanning
The cosmic dark

And like one of those
Faint stars in the night sky
My eye is unable
To touch it directly

So indirectly
I study it

One band
I make out
Comes from the door

Slightly open

The bisecting band?
I don't know

But the whole thing is there
And it's there now
Washed out
Behind the screen of my phone

 

[y=mx+b]

My wife made breakfast this morning

I was laying on the couch when she brought me a plate

Eggs... hash browns...

I sat up to say "thank you"
It came out as "You are beautiful."

Because she is.


The smile on her face...


I'm going to carry that moment in my heart and mind for a very long time.

 

[Kimleigh]

...and soon they will be out
Stirring unseen sounds in the dark...

Shadows rubbing up against shadows
Quieting the caw of crows

Grab what you can

That chest hair gets me every time.

That's unfortunate.

I like this image... but it brings to mind my new client who is charged with assault with a dangerous weapon (an axe) *I love my job*

I was laying on the couch when she brought me a plate

Eggs... hash browns...

I sat up to say "thank you"
It came out as "You are beautiful."

Because she is.

The smile on her face...

I'm going to carry that moment in my heart and mind for a very long time.

Very sweet.

 

[y=mx+b]

Home.

The house is silent
I am tired
With a dire want
To feel the hot water
Of our shower
Fall hard
Upon my body
In a room
With the lights turned off

Just myself
My thoughts
And time

Quiet
And alone.

 

[AlliaPotestas]

I was laying on the couch when she brought me a plate

Eggs... hash browns...

I sat up to say "thank you"
It came out as "You are beautiful."

Because she is.


The smile on her face...


I'm going to carry that moment in my heart and mind for a very long time.

This made my eyes prick a little, xx

 

[y=mx+b]

I had an interesting moment during break at work last night.

As things usually go amongst us guy folks we get to talking about family and relationships and past relationships and whatnot.

I'm the most private regarding such matters because I really have nothing to prove and honestly don't have much for experiences outside of fantasy. So... I keep quiet.

Sometimes we'll order food to pick up so my friend and I will run to the bar to get our food and pretty much every time we are out he will say something like "That bartender/waitress/random woman... really looks like my ex/woman I dated/chick I once fucked." And I'm always like, "oh.. no shit?"

He says it never in a boasting type way. But he says it quite a bit.

So last night he got to talking and he was like "here... let me Facebook stalk some of my ex's to show you what I'm talking about."

And he does. Finds 3 or 4 of them. Some still contacts. Others still friends of friends. All married now or seeing someone and/or have their own little families. In short... moved on, living happily vanilla little Facebook lives...

He stopped on one photo of a woman. It was good photo of her sitting in the park with her family. She was pretty. The sun cast it's light upon her hair creating this halo effect of sorts.

He's looking at her and says... "God she loved taking it to the face..."

 

[y=mx+b]

I of course don't know this woman. So I cannot say for certain if she does or not.

And I found myself wondering if the man she is with, her husband, the father of her children knows that she loves the feeling of ejaculate shooting across her face and eyes.

One would hazard a guess that he does.

But... what if he doesn't?

What if she's over that stage in her life?

What if she actually didn't like to take it to the face and was only placating my co-worker just to get it over with? I mean... it's not like she's still with him. She's clearly found someone else that better understands her and her needs wants and desires.

 

[y=mx+b]

But then... what if she does
And the guy she is now with is totally oblivious to the fact and she's too ashamed or afraid to bring it up?

What if she's tired of having gone vanilla
And longs to once again be made to feel like whore?

 

[y=mx+b]

Without naming names... 2 out of 2 mentality askew men where I work absolutely fucking goddamn hate this fucking cock-sucking song

Understand why it's popular to some and perhaps it's all what they need to be all "fuck yeah... I just may be bulletproof and capable of getting through this!"

But um... no. Go fuck yourselves.

Thankfully this little number is getting more and more air play. Because 2 out of 2 mentally askew men really need that *something* to not talk about... but know. Because the shit is real and will always be real. But it is what it is and it's best to just keep moving forward.