The Secret Diary of Janey Jones

[Sir_Winston54]

I have this recurring fantasy where my mind is a blank page. I have read nothing. I have not seen any movies or television shows. I stare at him with my big green wet eyes and he feeds me novels and movies every day. I eat up these stories and flicks like a hungry baby. I anticipate each story like a little girl sitting in front of a knowledge gift box with a big red silky ribbon.

Imagine saying to a lover: Let’s pretend I don’t know anything.

And he chooses the stories and books with a motive, so that I only know what he wants me to know. That is kinda controlling.
--

Heroin, I said? Mayhap not.

Perchance adrenalin, white crosses, bennies, methamphetamine of the soul...

Eyes opening, pupils dilating, then contracting to the tiniest of atomic pinpoints like a camera lens set to f.-∞ to view faraway galaxies in perfect focus from the depth of field. The exposure, then, would have to be long, long, long to compensate for the darkness of the soul universe. A lifetime? Or just seeming one? Whose lifetime?

And maybe someday, like Alice Liddell, we find that each labelled bottle is in itself a new life's adventure, all condensed into brightly-colored stereotomic dreams...

 

[sweepthefloor]

Heroin, I said? Mayhap not.

Perchance adrenalin, white crosses, bennies, methamphetamine of the soul...

Eyes opening, pupils dilating, then contracting to the tiniest of atomic pinpoints like a camera lens set to f.-∞ to view faraway galaxies in perfect focus from the depth of field. The exposure, then, would have to be long, long, long to compensate for the darkness of the soul universe. A lifetime? Or just seeming one? Whose lifetime?

And maybe someday, like Alice Liddell, we find that each labelled bottle is in itself a new life's adventure, all condensed into brightly-colored stereotomic dreams...

The aperture of my eye is an apple, or a four leaf lucky clover. I often run to the bathroom mirror and squeeze my eyes tight and open them to watch my pupils respond equally to light and accommodation. The black holes are 5mm in the dark. I am brisk to constrict in the light. My third cranial nerve is intact- that is a relief.

I was ten years old sitting for the artist every Saturday morning for weeks long exposure. It was a lifetime, and the ceilings were so high and the windows so large. I was very light, and the golden brocade heavy on my body.

In the huge portrait my eyes were two different colors, one was more blue and the other more green. I questioned the sanity of the artist.

The artist said: It is not entirely my fault young lassie that your eyes decide to change colors right in the middle of my work.

Take a slow picture of life with our shoe box camera obscura. I see light through a pinhole in the darkroom of my desire.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

I just re-read this entire thread, all 300+ posts. I heartily recommend it to those who have been following Janey's journey. And to those who haven't been, but should have been. Maybe all of us. Them. You.

There is freedom in acknowledging how much of her is in us, in one incarnation or another. Her black may be ours, her white ours, or perhaps her black brings out our white, her white brings in our black. No.

It's not that simple. There are too many shades and gradations and colors. What are the photographic opposites of red, blue, green, yellow, magenta, cyan, black? Are all the parts of her parts of us, and all our parts in her? I say yea. Nay me not. We are one in our separateness, and alone in our crowds.

These months have begun to re-open a mind becoming calcified and hard. As my mind softens and grows younger, will my heart and body follow? Will youthful strength and vigor rebound? Does it matter?

 

[sweepthefloor]

^ It is a long way to the top if I want to rock and roll. I am riding down the highway, going to some show. Is it harder than it looks?

Does your young heart ever bust out in song? I just did without a pitch change. You can hitch a ride to the youth of hearts anytime with a whole-lotta-janey. Thank you.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I just re-read this entire thread, all 300+ posts. I heartily recommend it to those who have been following Janey's journey. And to those who haven't been, but should have been. Maybe all of us. Them. You.?

SW—You are such a great advocate I wonder what is your trade? You make me want to read myself.

It's not that simple. There are too many shades and gradations and colors. What are the photographic opposites of red, blue, green, yellow, magenta, cyan, black? Are all the parts of her parts of us, and all our parts in her? I say yea. Nay me not. We are one in our separateness, and alone in our crowds.

If I am trapped alone in a crowd, I can remember this and will snap my color flash into the faces of others.

These months have begun to re-open a mind becoming calcified and hard. As my mind softens and grows younger, will my heart and body follow? Will youthful strength and vigor rebound? Does it matter?

It does matter. As hard, calcified cerebral arteries re-perfuse the minds matter- youthful strength and vigor are bound to open. The body and heart surely follow, it is all related.

The ideas, words, thoughts, desires and dreams are the stents, and we are the surgeons of ourselves.

 

[sweepthefloor]

My back door is wide open and the heat escapes. The kitchen is cold. There are two locks with no keys. Where is the key? Where is the key? There is only this lock.

The door won’t stay closed. My back door is not secure and the heat breaks free. I forced a screwdriver into my hearts door. My love ran away rising. Only brute force can contain this matter.

I jam screwdrivers in the door to keep it shut, to keep the warm inside.

The heat bolts so I stuff my box with wood and burn it all up. I am not hot. I am just the bold kindling for the fire in the seat of his dark pants.

The screwdriver keeps the safety inside. There is a predator out there somewhere. If this house is a book, the introduction dares all rapists.

I am not afraid when I hear noises. My body stills like an animal, I feel my ears open and turn pink, and then I go back to painting my nails orange shine red on my white hands as the blood drains away from my face.

There are four windows in the door, and the bottom two are busted out. I stapled the open wounds with plastic cardboard. It is not so hard to put a fist through that.

I am breaking down doors and smashing glass windows in the doors of my desires, and when he finds me I will be still painting my nails.

 

[YourCaptor]

Don't get ill in that cold.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Don't get ill in that cold.

Honestly it is not even that cold here. I haven't even worn my winter coat yet. I will take care. The real danger is a door that will not lock. I could be captured if I am not careful.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

Honestly it is not even that cold here. I haven't even worn my winter coat yet. I will take care. The real danger is a door that will not lock. I could be captured if I am not careful.

And the danger then lies in the Stockholm Syndrome... which can go both ways, you know.

 

[sweepthefloor]

And the danger then lies in the Stockholm Syndrome... which can go both ways, you know.

I am just in it for the struggle! If I learn to need/love it then that is good too.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Does this mean he loves me? Does it mean he wants to tie me up with rope?

 

[eastern sun]

Does this mean he loves me? Does it mean he wants to tie me up with rope?

I think it means he's been practicing.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I think it means he's been practicing.

It’s the teddy bear bondage trick! How many victims have fallen prey to his cunning plans? Even his name is villainous. He is from the next town over, and I haven’t done my research.

He says he never tied up a girl before. I am not sure if I believe him.

Doesn’t the bear look so sad? Are the bear’s emotions a predictor of the future?

I am not sure if I am ready to find out. I doubt I want to be body bound up by the hands of inexperienced teddy bear rope rigger man. I went and read Rida’s: ‘Rope Bottom Safety Decalogue.’

I do like the teddy though. I will see him again, but it will have to wait.

 

[eastern sun]

It’s the teddy bear bondage trick! How many victims have fallen prey to his cunning plans? Even his name is villainous. He is from the next town over, and I haven’t done my research.

He says he never tied up a girl before. I am not sure if I believe him.

Doesn’t the bear look so sad? Are the bear’s emotions a predictor of the future?

I am not sure if I am ready to find out. I doubt I want to be body bound up by the hands of inexperienced teddy bear rope rigger man. I went and read Rida’s: ‘Rope Bottom Safety Decalogue.’

I do like the teddy though. I will see him again, but it will have to wait.

It's true, the bear does look sad.

How will you ever know, though, when the moment to allow "it all" to happen is upon you?

When you fall in love with a fantasy, reality can never live up to the flawless quality of that crystallized desire.

To be tied by inexperienced hands is disappointing. It's true. Because you cannot escape the feeling of your own power. And the dreadful responsibility and burden it holds.

But don't underestimate the joy in sharing these adventures with someone over time. Of learning together.

It's hard to find a ready-made man. An easy-bake hero.

 

[sweepthefloor]

It's true, the bear does look sad.

How will you ever know, though, when the moment to allow "it all" to happen is upon you?

When you fall in love with a fantasy, reality can never live up to the flawless quality of that crystallized desire.

To be tied by inexperienced hands is disappointing. It's true. Because you cannot escape the feeling of your own power. And the dreadful responsibility and burden it holds.

But don't underestimate the joy in sharing these adventures with someone over time. Of learning together.

It's hard to find a ready-made man. An easy-bake hero.

A ready-made man! An easy bake hero! These words truly had me laughing inside. The dream is the easy way out. I know I can’t build-a-man, I understand.

I have realized that I put my own qualities, my own nature into the dream. That person is me, but that person is a man, or that person is me if I were a man. It is a set up. It is a crutch, it is a possible failure, it is such a complete love of self that no human is necessary. I have fallen in love with myself.


I will keep dreaming, and when I find a model close enough to the dream: I will surrender. I will let it all happen. Maybe I will learn to love him more than the dream.

How will I know when he is right on top of me? I wish I knew the answer to that. If only it could be as simple as being dragged by my hair to his cave and captured with no choice.

My dream is not so far from the possible, and my particulars not so large.

Yes, my own power—I will stuff it, and see what happens with the Teddy Bear Rope man. I am not madly attracted to him. The only reason I want to see him again is because he tied up the Teddy.

 

[sweepthefloor]

The Teddy does look sad, but she is so cute and soft. She is rigged in the back with a rope braid and I sit on my bed and talk to her. I pull the braid back and the bondage on her arms and legs gets tighter. I talk to her. I ask Teddy: Do you want me to untie you? How did he do this?

She says: No, I think I like it.

Then I ask her: What did he tell you about me, hm?

 

[sweepthefloor]

I am cherry blossom. I am ‘utsukushii sakura’ and ‘leipshin’ and ‘lekkerding.’ (sp?)

And I demand translation because if those words mean anything other than bitch! I am out of here and my wonder twin powers will activate. It will be back to the intergalactic circus for me.

 

[rida]

Yes, my own power—I will stuff it, and see what happens with the Teddy Bear Rope man. I am not madly attracted to him. The only reason I want to see him again is because he tied up the Teddy.

The Teddy does look sad, but she is so cute and soft. She is rigged in the back with a rope braid and I sit on my bed and talk to her. I pull the braid back and the bondage on her arms and legs gets tighter. I talk to her. I ask Teddy: Do you want me to untie you? How did he do this?

She says: No, I think I like it.

Then I ask her: What did he tell you about me, hm?

When the rope is on, it's easy to get confused, to confuse what the rope whispers to you with what the rope guy does to you.

And in that confusion, it doesn't really matter whether you are attracted to him or not. The indecipherable whispers of the rope will just do the magic.

Alas as any illusion, it does not survive the test of time.

And when you have learned to recognize the voice of the rope, and decipher its whispers, you will hear that, when the attraction/connection with the rope guy is not there, the rope is sad. And the magic will be sad too.

Perhaps that is why Teddy looks sad?

(but sad rope is better than no rope )

 

[eastern sun]

I have realized that I put my own qualities, my own nature into the dream. That person is me, but that person is a man, or that person is me if I were a man. It is a set up. It is a crutch, it is a possible failure, it is such a complete love of self that no human is necessary. I have fallen in love with myself.

Me, too.

 

[eastern sun]

When the rope is on, it's easy to get confused, to confuse what the rope whispers to you with what the rope guy does to you.

And in that confusion, it doesn't really matter whether you are attracted to him or not. The indecipherable whispers of the rope will just do the magic.

Alas as any illusion, it does not survive the test of time.

And when you have learned to recognize the voice of the rope, and decipher its whispers, you will hear that, when the attraction/connection with the rope guy is not there, the rope is sad. And the magic will be sad too.

Perhaps that is why Teddy looks sad?

(but sad rope is better than no rope )

This is the poetry of rope.

 

[sweepthefloor]

When the rope is on, it's easy to get confused, to confuse what the rope whispers to you with what the rope guy does to you.

And in that confusion, it doesn't really matter whether you are attracted to him or not. The indecipherable whispers of the rope will just do the magic.

Alas as any illusion, it does not survive the test of time.

And when you have learned to recognize the voice of the rope, and decipher its whispers, you will hear that, when the attraction/connection with the rope guy is not there, the rope is sad. And the magic will be sad too.

Perhaps that is why Teddy looks sad?

(but sad rope is better than no rope )

I want to like him- part of me does not want to get to know him so that I can live in a dream. He has never tied a girl up before, and I have never been bound by anything. So far we are like little kids talking about it. I think I like him enough to be good silly friends with him, and if it does not matter at first anyway...I will go with it.

I am kinda nervous. I keep thinking: maybe if he just ties up my arms, my legs can be free to run away. I know it seems so silly. I don't really want to run away. I am confused. I will let him tie me up at some point in time, hopefully before the sad chance reveals it's teary threads.

At first- I almost didn't believe him that he always wanted to do this. I guessed he was running with a lay ticket. I went to his house and saw his drawings that depict women and creatures tied up with rope in pretty ways. I believe him now. What I don't understand is why he never explored this with women before. I guess it is the same as me never really thinking about it before but liking the way it looks. I just never imagined it for myself.
---
The Teddy looks like me and I snuggle with her every night. I don't want to undo her ropes because I don't know how to put them back on. I keep looking at it and trying to figure it out.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Me, too.

lovers. I have to get over and read your writing. It is like if I wait a week then I get more at once, some kind of delayed gratification.

This is the poetry of rope.

I am going to find out all about this rope stuff I think. I am going to be good and nice.

 

[sweepthefloor]

He kissed me.​

We sat on the couch and he started to kiss me. The only reason I didn't flinch or back away from his lip touch was the underlying thought: He is going to tie me up in ropes one day soon, so just close your eyes, open your mouth and breath softly to yourself.

As I fought a sympathetic jerk reflex that threatened to ruin the whole kiss fest- his big hand found the back of my head, my long locks became wrapped around his fingers, and the pain opened my mouth wider and threatened a tear from my eye that never did fall--- this silenced the reflex, and I survived his tongue in my mouth more gracefully then I thought possible.

And then he let go—and I was relieved. It is the flood of that freedom that makes the tight grip so desirable. What good is running if you don’t know what you are running from?

 

[Curious_in_Cali]

What good is running if you don’t know what you are running from?

Maybe you are just an adrenaline junkie and you are trying to achieve that runners high I often hear about? Maybe I am lazy, but I seem to prefer racing thoughts.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Maybe you are just an adrenaline junkie and you are trying to achieve that runners high I often hear about? Maybe I am lazy, but I seem to prefer racing thoughts.

Yeah, maybe I just like to run. The feeling is good. I have been off my run for a while. I need to get back to it in the mornings. I like to think I am being chased by something so maybe I do like the adrenaline.

Racing thoughts are the worse kind of run for me-- in fact actual running gets rid of them, it is a relief.