highish

highish.  coming down and everything is quiet, mellow, and slow.  Even the sound of the birds chirping seems to be broadcast at a slower speed.  Its nice.  My thoughts are slow and pooled around me stuck in molasses.  Its nice to watch them wading by.  Like the cover for frog and toad.  row row row, slow slow slow.  This may be the first time my thoughts aren't running wild in my head.  They are all stoned now and look like meg and stewie, deflated.

anyway, there were lots of thoughts going on at the same time when I brought the comp out.  Like high sex, phone sex, swinging sex, and the ultimate safe sex, where the other person lives in another state and neither of you are flying out to meet the other-ever.

i was also thinking of dmx cuz i was listening to up in here and the lyric about looking at the roof of the church, made me think of gang bangers.  I knew kids who got shot, and kids that got shot and died.  I was attracted to that lifestyle at first.  I knew it could never be a long term thing cuz having kids that have to grow up without a dad cuz he got shot up is a fucked up thing.  A for life fucked you up forever kind of way.  I would never want to see my kids live that kind of lifestyle or be hurt because of it.

Makes me think of the ways that I'm fucked up for life.  I know i am but I'm not necessarily wishing it never happened.  Everything that happened helped shape me.  I made the best out of every situation and turned it into an advantage.  I happen to love the person that I am, and yeah it sucked my dad was more into coke than his daughter but fuck that looser.  I'm glad I only saw him a few times after the age of 4.  He was fucked up white trash and he did me a favor by not coming by. 

Want to know what I'm focused on right now?  Getting hotter.  I think I'm hitting my sexual peak and am always on the prowl for sexual attention.  I'm not out fucking anyone or even talking to anyone, but god I love to see the way guys check me out.  It sucks to feel anonymous.  Sucks to feel like you're invisible.  I'm not anymore, and everyday I'm getting hotter.  (that's the lie I'm telling myself and you're not allowed to burst my bubble).  Getting high in the am, cleaning up the house and tripping.  Getting high keeps me from being bored and pigging out on junk or vegging in front of the t.v.  By the time I'm done cleaning I have to get ready, of course I do because I always have to be looking good, you never know.  After that I eat a small lunch and my high is gone.  I go about the rest of the day back to normal.  Dinner and done.  Lost 5 lbs so it's working.  Lets call it the I want to be fucking hot diet.

I want to be hot in all ways.  Like if a guy watches me eat he should get hard.  I should be able to eat anything and make it look and sound hot.  The way I drive too, and I already know I'm a hot driver.  So itching to race someone that can race like me and not like a dumb ass.  don't drive all herky jerky.  don't step on it and then have to hit the breaks.  Weave and flow and tune in.  You should never have to hit your breaks.  I've only ever once raced a guy that drove like me.  SO HOT!!  I need that too.  I need a job I can hop on the freeway for.

Just checking to see if this shit works

High Ass Fuck

sorry if the title misleads you. i won't be telling you a tale of a night getting fucked in the ass and high as hell. I am high as fuck and in the mood to write.

There are a few issues. the first is that i was never really a fan of having a guy go down on me cuz they were all really really bad at it, i didn't like it. but now i really really want it. Why do i want it? is it because he's not in sync with my tits anymore? he used to be able to make me cum just from the way he plays with them. He can't anymore. we've lost that magical connection where the moment i desired it he did it. he was so tuned into me as far as my tits went that i didn't need anything else.

But he's not anymore, and now i'm getting desperate! and why is he not tuned in anymore? did i change the station? the sandpapery feel of his stubbly chin and lips on my delicate skin is an immediate mood killer. i cover them up and no sooner is my shirt down to my belly he's pulling it back up! he's also handling them so rough it seems. Maybe i'm just feeling this now because I really really want a girl in my life. which was first the rabbit or the egg (too close to easter and I'm high so that's how i fucked that one up)?

All i know is that i'm dreaming about bitches all the time. I love seeing hot chicks on t.v. the kind of chicks i like, with piercings, tattoos, and sweetly/sexy/trashy makeup. While dreaming about it i have started dressing the part. why can't i be one of those sweetly/sexy/trashy chicks? I'm a good girl, i wouldn't steal, shoot heroin, or be in and out of rehab. that's the sweet part. (and i don't want any of that drama!) I'm sexy as hell because I know I am. I know I could lose a few lbs in most guys eyes, but that isn't all guys. I don't want to be one of those super scrawny chicks. you know what i'm talking about. the point just on this side of anorexic. i don't like hip bones and scarecrow arms. and trashy makeup is hot as fucking hell. tattoos... fucking... make.. me.. wet! thats what i want now. a tattoo.... so hot!

i know i started talking about him, but hot girls are more fun to read about than bitchy writing. i love spending time looking up youtube videos looking at the hot girls putting on makeup. Y? because all i want is a hot sexy trashy bitch visiting me while the kids are in school.

a hot chick like a whitney and sara. ok so two hot chicks. the two types of sexy bitches i like. plus whitney has to be the best fuck ever or so many chicks wouldn't have gone all fatal on her ass. and come one, if you have one hot chick you might as well have a trifecta of hot chicks. having two hot women's lips on my body, their hair tickling my body. and don't get me wrong, i don't just want to feel those things, i want to do them too. but for now, let me just enjoy receiving.

I want to get fucked soooo fucking good that i won't be able to see straight. I know a girl who is a great finger fucker. i didn't even have to move and she was just, fucking, on it! i'd love to do it again and this time fuck her finger just as good as her finger fucks me. let me grind against you, writhe beneath you, bite, and groan, and gasp. gently bite and suck on my neck. god, like that chick at mi6. so fucking hot!

I want to stop fucking dreaming about it and start fucking doing it. fuck i want to do it right now. that's what i'll do tomorrow. i'm going to get all hot and then i'm going to fuck some hottie. I promise. tomorrow is friday the 13th so all the really dark hot girls are going to be out. i'm going to smoke and go party. maybe fullerton. who knows, but i promise you that it will be good and i will write the details and share. xoxo

fuck fuck fuck

not high right now but maybe i should be. i think i need to be high in order to say what i really want to say. otherwise i over think it, i censor it, i keep it bottled up. will he ever read this? i don't know. i worry that he'll be hurt, he'll be embarrassed, he'll be mad.

but what about me?!?! i'm frustrated, i'm horny, i'm in need! i need to get fucked the way i want to get fucked. i need to get fucked by someone that can just do me so fucking good. get fucked by someone that knows exactly how far to go, when to stop, and how to make me fucking melt. i need someone that can get me out of my head.

do you know what i'm talking about when i say that? touch me, lick me, fuck me so good that i forget about everything else. all that exists in the world is just u and i and that thing you happen to be doing to me in this moment. isn't that what we all want?

i may sound a little greedy telling you what i want, but i'm not. i'm a giver, a pleaser, and certainly a teaser. i know i'm good in bed. i know i give good head. i know how to work it just right. but i'm tired. tired of always being the one giving and never the one receiving. when i do receive i'm tired of being disappointed.

i hate the thought of being a crappy fuck. fucking hate it! but i'm at the point where i'm going to give what i get. i don't know if it's going to work but i'm barely hanging on right now. i'm fucking desperate for some amazingly awesome fucking sexual encounter.

The Assignment

I opened my email today and found an assignment waiting in my inbox. I hate assignments. Mostly because I hate being told what to do, but also because I don't have very good control over my emotions. If I'm angry and in a dark place, please don't ask me to write about puppy dogs and rainbows and expect that it's going to be a happy tale.

This time the assignment is asking us to write like we were able to conquer the fears that were plaguing us last time, which is great for me since I have. The sender also let it be known that smut was a plus, which made me wonder if she had a window into my mind.

I want to say that peeking into my mind must have been like wandering through catacombs. There are lots of dark passageways, murky pools of water you must wade through in order to get a good look around, and the rooms! Ah, the rooms where my many personalities lurk. Last week the lost, sad, insecure little girl ruled the roost. This week, well, this week's escapee is my dirty little whore of an alter ego.

More often than not you'll see a devilish smirk on my face when I'm in this zone. I think a lot, and talk very little. I'm very much in my own head when she's in control. I can't walk by a mirror without admiring my curvy figure, black hair, smokey eyes. In this mood, I lust after myself. In this mood I own the adjectives striking and exotic. I don't stomp about in my heavy doc martin boots, I slink like a cat. I see things that usually go unnoticed. I feel the eyes on me. I don't just see them looking at me, I notice that the moment they look at me, they hold their breath, they pause mid conversation, their eyes widen ever so slightly.

I don't always command such a reaction. It's only when she's in control. Wait. This is weird, it's weird to be talking about myself saying she. I may be one of many, but right now as I type, I am the one in control. I've seized the reins and have literally locked the others away for now. I'll tell you quite proudly that I'm un-fucking-stoppable. I am the baddest bitch in this house and there is nothing and no one that I can't have.

Let me loose! Let me roam, and prowl, and hunt. Let me slink about the club with the self satisfied smile on my face and fucking hunt!!! Take me to the Abby and watch me work. Watch me as I effortlessly find myself dancing with a beautiful girl. Watch as she puts her small delicate hands on me. Her pale hands on my waist as she bites her lip and looks up at me. Watch as I kiss her. Watch as I awaken something primal inside of her. Watch as I cast my spell. It's dark and crowded on the dance floor, but still I know her face is flushed. I can feel the warmth rising off her cheeks. Watch as her hands slip up, from my waist to my breasts. She has forgotten where she is, and that her friends are watching. She has forgotten that she doesn't even know my name.

Even if she could remember all these things right now, it wouldn't matter. She wants me. She wants to feel me, she wants to taste me, and as her lips leave mine and her busy little hands search for my breasts and her hungry little lips are not far behind, I strain my neck so that I can bite hers. Lucky for you, right now you reside inside my head. Lucky for you you get to feel my teeth against her neck. You get to feel her sudden exhale on my breasts. You can even feel how my nipples tingle as they constrict.

Doesn't that feel good? You can feel it, right? Enter my head, it's ok. You hear the music? So loud, and yet at the same time so far away. It's her breath that's doing it. The hot quick puffs alternating from her mouth and nose, and the feeling of her lips on my skin. Soft plump lips gently sucking and searching. Her fingers desperately tugging against the collar of my shirt so she can run her tongue over my nipples.

Feel the softness of her skin as my hand slips up her shirt. Her body is hot, and my hands are cold leaving a trail of goosebumps behind in my wake.

Sorry to leave you stranded!! I should have finnished writing instead of wandering off to have sex. Now I can't pick it up where I left off no matter how hard or long (it's been a few days) I try. The bad ass bitch said fuck u peeps I'm tired and slunk off to bed. I don't know when she'll be back, but since I do know she's only interested in the now, she's not going to come back and finnish this. Instead she'll be daydreaming of vampires, or steam punk, or wild orgies, or all three.

Promises

I'm here cuz I promised myself I would come. It's 4 minutes shy of midnight as this post gets started and so It still counts as Wednesday's post.

I promised myself I would come here everyday. Promised that I would get something anything onto the screen. I make myself a lot of promises. Sometimes I keep them even when I don't want to, like now. Mostly, I just say aww fuck it! and do something else instead.

You know like losing weight. There's only one way to do it, eat right and exercise. Staying on the sofa is so much easier, and dark chocolate is so tasty! So hard to keep that promise. Especially when getting high during the day leaves me with the munchies all afternoon and evening. So here is another promise. Next time I get high during the day, I have to prep only healthy snacks to munch on before I take the first toke...

Our weed walks are really interesting. Sometimes I psychoanalyze her, sometimes I psychoanalyze myself, and sometimes we laugh so hard it hurts. It's funny to see the parallels in our lives, and also the differences. Makes me feel better to know everyone has shit to deal with, but you do, and move on.

Here's another promise that we made. No bitching when we walk. While we were walking down the street high as hell and laughing our asses off, I realized that the only females I ever see walking down the street and laughing like idiots are teenagers. Everyone else uses their daily walk with a friend just to bitch about the latest unimportant, uninteresting crap that happened since they last saw each other. We vowed we wouldn't and we promptly broke that promise.

It's ok though, as long as we stick to our promise more often than not it's all good

Third day in a row! Lets hear it for the new record!! Had the most amazing sex last night. I was faded, and after the first orgasm I realized that I was still really horny. Usually I'm too sensitive to go again so quickly, but it felt good and since he needed time to recover I just laid back and explored myself.

I'd never really taken the time to get to know the territory down there. Weird huh? Especially with all the sex I have, and all the solo sex on top of that I should be a pro. I'm not. It's a sensitive spot and I usually just go with the tried and true.

Last night I let my fingers slip between my pussy lips and feel the silky delicate parts of my sex. Let my finger tease my clit, felt as the slippery wetness spread, and my finger followed to parts unknown. Felt how perfectly it all fit together. I took my time and enjoyed every moment of it, imagining what it would feel like to have a girl with some serious skills touch me in all the right places.

After a while thoughts drifted back to the hubby and I wished we could fuck again. Then I realized that there was nothing stopping us but my own inaction. I worried it would go bad. What if I lost interest? What if he did? But my fears were unfounded. We both found our second wind and round 2 was just as good.

When round 2 was over, I was still filled with naughty sexual fantasies and realized I was aching to write, and so that's how I found myself up till 3 a.m. writing about it.

And now, with only 3 hours of sleep I'm here again. Doing what had been impossible only a few days ago.

Clocking In

They say it takes 10,000 hours to become a master of your craft. What ever that craft may be. So this is me plugging in my time for today. I took a little me time today. Usually when my honey is home from work I get to just follow him around like a puppy dog all day. This time I went about my regular routine of cleaning up before going on my walk with a friend. She didn't want to walk today, but I wanted desperately to get out of the house and chat with someone I don't see all the time.

Plus I wanted to get faded and reflect on my own thoughts for a little bit. So I did, and I did. Hearing some of the crazy drama she's seen makes me feel better about my own. Everyone goes through crazy and boring shit. I'm not the only weirdo. I just have to write. Sit down here and pluck away at the keys till it starts pouring out of me again.

I can write myself happy, sad, or horny depending on what I'm writing. Usually I go with my mood, but sometimes I can go against it. It's a bit like pulling teeth, but when I'm in the writing groove I can pull it off. Too bad I'm not there yet. Right now, I feel all over the place, and right now my writing is all over the place too.

Sorry you had to come here and read this less than inspiring post, but like I said I'm just punching in the clock. Now it's time to clock out.

I used to blog a lot. I can't even begin to tell you what went wrong. Did life get boring? Have I turned shy? Maybe I decided it was time to keep some stuff private. I don't know the reason. What I do know is that it has become almost impossible to start doing it again. I have deleted numerous posts that have contained anywhere from one to two sentences to several paragraphs. I've even deleted all content from several blogs.

I miss writing. I miss sitting down in front of my computer and letting my fingers help me work through my shit. Old shit, new shit, awesome shit, scary shit. Something from my past nagging me? Just like a masseuse working on a troublesome knot, my fingers help me work it all out. I always came away feeling happier, calmer, and satisfied. Lately the opposite is true.

Writing sucks right now. It feels like writing and I have been intimate for so long. Writing knows all my deep dark secrets. You know, the ones you regret sharing. You know what happened next. It became awkward. After awkward comes the break up. Is that what this is? Are we at the break up stage? Or will I cling to this relationship like a virgin will cling to the first guy she bangs?

Here's another question, why are there so many questions in this post? Usually I ask and answer as I go. Usually I figure it all out by the time I key in the final period.

I searched the spa for hot chicks and secluded areas for a quick hook up. It was slim pickings in both areas. Perhaps designed to prevent a wild romp under a weeping willow. The only area suitble for a hot and heavy makeout session was a cold pool tucked away and surrounded by plants and bamboo fencing on 3 sides. People hopped in and quickly hopped back out again in search of warmer waters. I wadded in chest deep and while my friends chatted about who knows what my mind wandered into the gutter, picturing a tanned blonde in a white bikini slipping into the pool behind me. She comments on my tattoo (angel wings which I don't have yet) and by magic of this being my fantasy there's no need for chit chat. My hand is on the small of her back pulling her toward me and hooking my thumbs under her bikini. We kiss as she presses her warm body up against mine, her hand following the
contours of my body up to the nape of my neck as goosebumps break out in her wake.

at the spa today, only my second time ever, though last time was with a girl who's panties i was trying to get into (even though she didn't wear any) last time was also a lot more private, we had the place to ourselves, and enjoyed the spa naked. this spa on the other hand is completely packed! makes me wonder how much fun or relaxing is going to be happening. On another note there are mostly middle aged unattractive women so that blows my fantasy of a random hot spring hookup. So what am i to do?

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my relationship stands on thin ice. Things seem safe and secure on the surface. But below are where the sharks live. Below is a stock pile of pain and suffering. Below are card catalogs of insults and trespasses.

Every so often something happens to flip the world upside down. Reality turns into a screaming match. Reality for a while becomes hell. Becomes the realization that this is all just a lot of shit. That other place, up there, is all a lie. Down here everything has sharp teeth, and seeks to tear the flesh. And down here is where it's real. Down here lies the truth. Down here you can see. Down here the masks are gone. Down here, he's just a man like every other. Down here all I feel is hate. Hatred of those eyes, and that lying mouth. When I'm down here all I want is OUT! All I want is to be done with this relationship for good. That way I can clean it up. Throw away the catalogs, throw away the memories, and start all over.

"What's wrong?" "There's something off about you lately"

What am I supposed to say to that? Do I reply in my native tongue, (sarcasm) "How observant of you!"

What is wrong with me? Why am I here when I'm not sure I want to be? More and more I think that this love I feel is for a person that never really existed. A love based on lies, on deception. Aside from that there is this desire to find myself. To be who I want to be. To do me, without worrying about him.

That's an easy enough thing to do right. I mean in order for me to do me, I don't even have to leave. I can do me and still be here. All the inevitable fights over my new priorities are in the future, not to be chewed over now in the hypothetical. Let the chips fall where they may, let me seek out that which makes me happy.

Old musty smelling books, big comfy chairs, cute girls with dark hair, dark eyeliner and the soul to match. Girls that I needn't worry about the hypothetical future and love triangles. Girls to flirt with, make out with, and touch just for fun.

Writing stories, escapades, sordid love affairs of broken people.

I don't even know how many times I've been here. Not here, my blog, but, here, this place in my head. The place that says it's time to move on. The place that says the love has dried up, the desire is gone, the only thing keeping me here are the tears they shed. The tears and the sadness I feel responsible for keeping at bay.

We fight, we say things, I think both of us knowing that the end isn't near. The end has come and gone. We deny the truth. We pretend we don't know the love we feel for each other is merely a ghost. We reach out to each other with fingers that know the way, but with a heart that's sleeping.

How long can we live in this hell? Feeling feelings that are long gone and wishing they weren't. Drying tears with promises that things will be ok. With fears of hurting not each other but the ones we love the most. Do we play this game we promised we would never play? Back when we promised to love each other just a little more than we loved them. Back when I was young and dumb and in love? She's just a ghost too. Just like the feelings, just like the desire, mere memories being played over and over, an old record being played on an old phonograph. Things long gone, just like this relationship.

being in a funk sucks. things have just seem a little off lately. not just somethings, everything. sex, smiles, interactions, everything. i look at him and will myself to feel more than this vague sense that somewhere deep down i love him. i know all, but feel little. i've been unplugged, disconnected, distracted. are there any other ways to say you can't FEEL? perhaps, but u get the picture. I feel like a robot. Maybe this is what you feel like when you come off of feeling like pinochio, (I've got no strings to tie me down, but i was a puppet none the less). i had a few smoke induced revelations last night. some new things to consider. ugh! there are always new things to consider. can't i be less self aware? can't i be a little less curious (curiosity killed the cat u know. I know, I know) maybe cats have suicidal tendencies, if so, i guess i'm more feline than i thought.

The Call of the Night

I need to write. I NEED it. I need it to keep me sane. I need it to put my thoughts together, to help me deal. The problem is that I'm distracted.

I'm distracted by the beautiful views, the crisp cool air, the clean blue skies during the day. They are beautiful to behold, but the elicit barely more than a smile, a brief daydream into the past.

The night sky is another story altogether. I'm distracted by the millions of twinkling stars at night (did you know there are other constellations besides the big dipper?) Distracted by a sky so black it seems a living thing intent on consuming me. I stand outside in the cold night air, a kink in my neck and stare. Stare at the stars I had almost forgotten about. Stare with that suspicion that there are still more to be seen on just the right night, at just the right time. Millions more, brilliant twinkling stars, begging me to stay and watch. To lay down on the cold dirty concrete, near the bags and boxes of debris we've collected, and watch.

The call of the night comming from within me. Encoded on my dna durring millions of years of evolution. By every ancestor leading back the evoulutionary lines. Every ancestor walked in daylight with different views, mountains, or valleys, or rivers or even wide open seas. But at night every one of us has looked upon this sky. This night sky almost unchanged since that first creature crawled out of the sea. To watch and wonder and dream.

In this place I am home again.

centralization is almost never a good idea. It doesn't work well in nature, doesn't work well in business. for some reason we are drawn to it. thinking it will lead to cheaper, better, faster.

What do we get in return? workers, businesses, and politics that don't care. Each individual worker is lost in the monster company. each individual consumer is just a number. tainted baby formula, toxic drywall, lead laced toys. what else do you get? greedy mega monsters that want their hands in everything. Realtor-Broker-Escrow-Servicing bastards who seek to get every cent they can. It's faster! we are all in house! But it's not faster, in fact, it's also more expensive. no one wants to take responsibility, nor tell off someone who made a vital mistake because this person sits in the next cubicle. loss of business isn't possible, so there is no need to do your best. Shit, no real need to try at all. In the end everyone is a number, and none of those numbers count for anything at all.

FWD:

I hate shopping for clothes. H-A-T-E it. I'm at that akward size where you're too fat for skinny clothes and too small for plus size clothes. Fight as hard I can I just can't make it budge enough. My waist is small but my ass is big. Pants that fit my butt leave a gap in the waist. Right waist, misshapen butt. Big boobs, big arms means that regular sized tops are too tight. plus size tops are either completely with out form, or at plus size specialty stores way too big in the wrong places. I really really hate shopping. It's a big blow to my self esteem and way too frustrating. There are pleanty of fashionable plus size women, who shop at specialty stores that cater to their body type. There are many many more for the skinny people. But nothing for those in between. Do I need to resort to seeing a tailor? take these in here, here, and here, let them out here, and leave everything
else as it is? Sounds expensive.

Rolling My Eyes

R we in the 50's? On The Talk, they unvailed the must have gifts for women. Among the ites were a labler, with pink tape, a special steam iron, and diamond earings. Really? These are the must have's? These are certainly not the things on my wish list. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm lacking a domestic gene. I don't know what I want for christmas but I know what I don't want. They also had TiVo on the list. You know how we women get when we miss our stories! I mean come on!
This brings up the question, what should have been on that list.
1. Boots, sexy, lucious boots (hold the fur, this isn't Alaska)
2. A book. Yes a book by my favorite author shows that u know a little about me.
3. A big, flashy, fake, jeweled ring. A ring that makes a statement. A ring that says "here's ur way of striking up a convo with me."
4. a spa day!
5. A maid (for just one day would be enough)

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Why do certain things from the past haunt u forever? Sometimes they slink away into the darkness, but the tip of their tail can still be seen, swishing back and forth, biding it's time. sometimes these things pounce on you at very expected moments, like during a heated argument. Other times they sneek up on you, like during head. A brief almost playfull, swat across the face with it's giant paw, claws, thankfully, retracted. Just a "Hey, I haven't forgotten. Don't you forget either."

If there is a way of putting these bitches to rest, I haven't lived long enough to find out. All I know is that for now in a dark corner of both our minds it licks it's chops and swishes it's tail, biding it's time.

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