Just Avoiding Life.
 
There are moments (hours) where I feel unmotivated (I'm laying on the hallway floor) and need something (but not alcohol anymore) to -- I don't know, filleth my cup. This blog runneth over with mediocre nonstop rambling, sort of how actual life is around me.
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I'd Rather Be Flayed (Hyperbole, Not A Kink!)
Posted:Mar 2, 2019 7:55 am
Last Updated:Mar 16, 2019 5:59 pm
203 Views

I recently pruned and edited my posts to make it a bit more anonymous. Not because I'm afraid of someone discovering my salacious and arousing posts (Someone's got to have a fetish for annoyed cousins and socially awkward stream of consciousness)... I'm afraid it will be hated. Reviled. Ridiculed. Repulsive. Recumbent. Restitution. I might just be thinking of "R" words. A blog centered on all those specific adjectives would be much more interesting, though.

I started writing with an idea in mind, and I will probably expound on it if I should finally achieve that threesome with two men. I have actually "crossed off" a couple of items just last night, but I use quotations because I never really did sit down to finish that list. I thought about it often, but my willingness to try anything and my need to be thorough would result in a list that rivals my last husband's criminal history.

I just want to make sure I'm not missing out, as well as keeping my ability to make snap judgements in check. I want to find out more about myself without also compromising the morals I have and the rules I've drawn up. It seems like this would be the least likely place I could look for readers and objectivity of content -- alas as I have noticed throughout life, people who live on the fringe or outside of society's sexual acceptance seem to be more accepting than the rest of the world. This is both a boon and a drawback. I can't gauge my ability on viewer count since most of my writing doesn't center on sex as a topic. On the other hand, I know (...shit well now I hope and pray as well) my Uncle Dave won't see me at the next family reunion with the knowledge that I am so sexually sheltered and organized that I've made a post in order to rectify that.

Right now I might have had less than a couple hours of sleep and my brain is about as fragmented and empty as my net worth. I cannot promise when I read this tonight or tomorrow that I won't remember half of what I wrote. Some of it is because of the reason I lost that sleep, but I am convinced that is another post or two entirely worth its own space. Regardless of the fact that last night might have been a one-off, the resulting ideas and need to just let that shit OUT will necessitate some serious thought. The obligation I made to myself to be open, consistent and generally O-fucking-kay with criticism or comments is becoming more difficult with each update -- and I'm pretty sure if this were Tinder, everyone would still be trying to decide which way to swipe while being drawn to the plane wreck that my life has revealed itself to me. I'm just lucky I don't fly.
2 Comments
My Roommate Can't Stand My Music
Posted:Feb 23, 2019 3:29 am
Last Updated:Mar 3, 2019 8:52 pm
411 Views

Everyone has different tastes. Genres, moods, ideas -- music is universal and in that way it is also unique to each listener. No one is going to find their perfect match in music preference, but my roommate and I are pretty close. It helps that he's also related to me, but I don't think it's a huge factor.

You'll find me listening to Tech N9ne, Rittz, Tom Petty, weird female swedish singers who look like young men, but mostly artists who live inspiringly under the Rhymesayers label. This isn't the music my roommate hates me for. It's -- yeah this is embarrassingly typical -- the love songs I play at 80% volume on repeat. For days.

This is not indicative of my regularly scheduled programming, not at all. I've usually played one of 3 or 4 playlists that involve a lot of hip hop and , some metal, an entire playlist of guitar solos (Eruption!), and then... seven playlists consisting of various love songs spanning decades, moods, and genres. I have a playlist for being lonely, being overwhelmed, being horny, being horny and alone and overwhelmed... I mean, I get specific. My favorite playlist not created by me is titled something like, "Sex Playlist (For All The Sex I'm Not Having)" ...I mean come on, it was made for me wasn't it?

I have a playlist specifically made for when I want to think about specific people. I have a playlist for when I want to think about anything but specific people. I have... you get it. My roommate gets it -- sometimes I listen to the same 4 Lil Peep songs for an entire day thanks to his speaker in the kitchen. It's endearing; someone so tough and streetwise moping about to terribly sad songs about drugs and ratchet bitches (cocaina).

I do him one better. I will repeat a single song 5 times before switching to another, and then do it a few more times before I go back to the first song. Sometimes I will adjust the tempo of my silent, pathetic tears to match whatever ridiculous lyrics happen to be playing. For this reason I am not allowed the aux cord to the speakers. I have to have my own speaker. I must ask if I can play music, and it must be vetted by whoever is in that particular room. Halsey's "Bad At Love" is banned due to a January situation where it was on YouTube in the living room no less than 15 times in one day. (I can't help it, she's a hard crush for me.)

I stay in my bedroom with my depressing or uplifting or enthusiastic or sexual or hungry love songs. I play my music on repeat. I'm not embarrassed. If you find a sex partner who is great and makes you orgasm at least a few times each session, why try a new one? Tried and true, I'm going to wade through the difficult and long journey of dating in my late 30s with K-Ci & JoJo at full volume. Sucks for the rest of you.
1 comment
She Abandoned A Project? So Unlike Her.
Posted:Feb 23, 2019 1:29 am
Last Updated:Mar 2, 2019 7:23 am
425 Views

It isn't that I didn't have something to say, or maybe that I had something to say that didn't fit here. Please -- this is a sex-centered site. If you are patient and use enough lubrication, anything will fit here. On that note, this particular post has no topic and no real direction. I'm simply feeling antsy as fuck and need to do something. Strap in, buckle up, apply directly to the forehead -- do what you need to get through this shitpile of a post.

I'm an okay specimen - Attractive enough to avoid curious gazes at my face, but not so bangin that I get curious gazes at my face. I land squarely in the Gazeless Zone that I so dearly adore. Receiving attention is definitely not my strong suit as far as grace and dignity. Throw a compliment my way and it might as well be a 200 lb jealous ex-girlfirned - I'm not escaping unscathed. I've been working on the simple yet effective, "Thank you! I really love your -insert reciprocative compliment here-!" Sometimes I can pull it off, sometimes it comes out more like "Gross, I hate my mouth, it looks like a Snapchat filter is glitching." Either way, I'm trying guys. Please don't swipe left just because I have food on my lip and the booger I couldn't find after sneezing has stationed itself on my chest. Maybe I have a great personality.
1 comment

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