Thursday, July 7, 2011


The perspective of us is shocking when truly appreciated. Everything we've been through together, everything we've lived together-- and apart-- is the stuff of fairytales.

This time last year we created our first home out of a dingy studio apartment, happy just to have someplace of our own to be.

This time two years ago we were sleeping on the streets of downtown making art to make a buck, dependent on the sympathy of strangers to keep our heads above water.

This time three years ago, we hadn't even met.

So much can change in so little time and yes, those little cogs grow wings before anybody can do anything about it. It's going by so fast. When I try to swallow the enormity of the distance traveled, I find that I can only squint and choke. It's too much at once, too hard to believe unless lived. If you told me then where I'd be now I know I wouldn't believe it.

We''ve come so far, haven't we. And it's only just beginning.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Hiatus, too long, too soon

Been awhile since I've had anything relevant to post and of a mind to post it. Too much has happened to interrupt that good momentum and now I'm worried if it'll ever start back up again. Bad luck, you could say. Things dying and loved ones getting sicker and the everpresent pressure of not enough.

But I'm not the only one sick of it.

Anyways, back on track. I never mentioned how startlingly sexy it was of him to tell me he wanted special at-home only outfits for me to wear for only him to see. Uniforms, he called it, and I melted a little. A lot. Alright. Been fantasizing like hell, there, I said it. The main issue is, as always, money. We lack the funds to play out some of these fantasies properly, as seems common for those of this, erm, lifestyle. It's frankly depressing and I'm willing to bet I've been letting it get to me far too much than I should, but there it is. There's so much we want to do-- regarding this and other things, personal needs to be met that can't because of stupid things like how much money comes in-- and it's difficult to put all that aside sometimes. And it's not the frustration of delayed gratification so much as it's legitimate health requirements that simply cannot be met at this point in time because the world puts too high a price on it. It's not, hey, I want that sparkly pink dildo NOW, dammit-- it's hey, that would make me feel whole, damn, I wish we could afford that.

I'm sad, I suppose. Sad for him, sad for others, sad for various people. Nostalgic and sad and feeling guilty about how I'm handling it, I suppose. At least now I've got those pills for when the dreaded monthly comes about-- last time, it hurt too much to be touched and lasted twice as long as it should have, which was both maddening and worried me a bit. I hate the thing as it is, but then it goes and interrupts our playtime? Fuck that shit, where's the OFF button for this thing, I'm not using it anyways.

Also, I really do want a fancy pretty formal outfit thing. Even more so now, somehow, vests and white gloves and stiff collars and well tailored everything. I'd like to be part of the decimation of it even as it struggles to be put back together, fighting to recompose even as the will to do so weakens under every heavy-handed caress.

Mmmn, yes.