he's alive

I sent an email under an alias. He responded. What do I do? He's alive. I think he's fucking with me. I don't know what the fuck to think. He knows there is no training. Why would he inquire? He's curious. He likes the name. The name is seductive. I knew he'd like it. He's alive. What do I do now? He's fucking with me. He wants to play.

Seth...it's time.

We've been friends for 2 years now. We've had those sudden moments where we would like to kiss, but have refrained. I say I love you and mean it. We have lain in bed together in underwear, talking, laughing, sleeping. I have drooled on your chest. You have walked into my fart cloud.

But you were always you.

Steady. Unchanging. Calm. Me, I was all over the place. I was the flag you were the staff. I was the one that wanted us in the wind. You would have never agreed to it. I am at least glad you told me your name.

love and sanity

while reading The Body by Boully those words came to me. I am also thinking how i will miss my script on the page.

Paul...?

I'm leaving soon. My flight leaves tomorrow. I considered the way in which I could leave NY. I considered writing you, inviting you for drinks, and conversation. But I only knew that I would reach out to you by email, only once more. I tried looking for you on Craigslist. I tried luring you back into conversation with me. I even tried insulting you, I think. I tried to find another you, a replacement you. At the mere mention of my nipples the trolls came running. Someone warned me, replied to me, be careful of the attention you seek. And they were right. They are not you. And you are who I am looking for.

Gillete (memory)

Holding it to my wrist in the bathroom, thinking to myself "you're a coward you wont do it." wondering how many had that thought right before they split their skin. A friend told me cut downwards not across. A friend? She was joking. I don't think she realized I was not. The light was on, the walls had long since warped from ivory to yellow. The bathroom would be my first casket.

"and not only when it works in our favor"

on how to be an honest politician.

What happens to your emails after you die.

Is there a clean-up committee? Or do they leave it to your poor grieving family?

pushing pushing pushing

and suddenly gushing gushing gushing

The obvious must be stated so that the obvious is stated.

I see a picture of him, his thick black moustache and wish I could spread my legs and feel it tickling me. And so the fantasies about Serj begin...

He walked thru a door back stage at Jimmy Kimmel and I said, "Oh what's up Serj." He nodded, kept his eyes on me. I spoke again, I met his friend Peter at a reading at NYU. He spoke immediately about Peter and our dialogue began. I was surprised at how easy it was to speak to him. I don't know if we had a connection, and frankly I wasn't looking for one. I liked his music, I even found him attractive. But I wasn't looking to suck his dick.

A year later, however, I lived to contradict myself. At his house, we'd been talking quietly about his Wu Tang collaboration. I told him I never liked the song. He kissed me on my forehead and gathered the take-out containers. It sent a pulse through me. By the time he returned my nipples were hard as granite. I tried to hide them, standing up, turning away, crossing my arms. He didn't know what was going on at first. He gave me one of those arm-neck hugs and asked how my screenplay was coming along. His breath was on my neck and it was warm. Our bodies were touching. When I spoke I stuttered. He looked at me and turned me to face him, and my nipples betrayed me. He saw them and let me go. I was embarrassed. An eternity of silence passed. And then I saw his erection. We stood there looking at each other's secret that had finally been revealed. And I could no longer hide how badly I wanted his cock in my mouth.

I was sucking his dick before my knees hit the floor. It was rock hard and beautiful and it tasted good. His hands fondled my breasts and flicked my nipples as I sucked. It made me want to suck him more. I swallowed what ever was coming out of him. I looked up and he was looking at me, watching, thrusting ever so slightly, my lips and tongue were bringing him to climax. And then I tasted him, his entire load, it flowed into my mouth and down my throat. I kept sucking, sucking all of it out of his throbbing dick, I sucked and sucked until he screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs, but he kept thrusting, kept looking at me, he moaned and groaned and screamed some more. And then he fell to the floor, his body quaking, dick glistening from my saliva, eyes open and in a trance. I thought I sent him into a coma but then he grabbed me, tore off my panties, lifted me by my hips and slid himself into me. It was an easy slide, it made a gushy sound when he entered. He thrust upward and I downward. I new I would come soon. I took his hands and put them on my breasts, forcing him to squeeze as I drove my pussy down on him. He squeezed them, he pulled my shirt down and lifted his face to my nipples. We thrust together, he sucked, I moaned in pleasure. My orgasm was in route. I looked down and saw my cream leaking all over his flesh. I pushed my hips down and the walls of my box squeezed down on his hot, hard meat. He let my nipples fall out of his mouth and he threw his head back and came inside of me. I came too, bouncing up and down on him until it felt so good it hurt. I collapsed down on him and we fell asleep, our sizzling bodies on cold linoleum.

Goodness gray shoes!

Everybody think everybody else has another thing coming. The chosen are the lucky ones. The chosen are the lucky ones? There is flesh for sex in the after life. And the messiah is still in route? No the messiah lives in Brooklyn.

Randomness

Dick or cock?
Will I ever find a white man that loves my big brown areolas?
Will I ever fall in love again?
Can I be abstinant for the rest of my life?

The only thing I can answer with certainty is that I prefer to say dick.

I am lonely

Therapy today. Just because I cried last week does not mean I am in love with him. I arrived at that conclusion myself. I am looking for (P). My therapist told me I could have someone real. And that he abandoned me when the situation became real, once my husband found out about him. And it's all true. But there is no one like him. It was such a thrill and I am wishing I could have that back. It was all so fucking thrilling.

After the stress subsided...

...I was please to see her hair came back on it's own reconnaissance.

Listening to System of a Down

Funny how one song opens the door to another song. First Aerials, then Tentative, then BYOB, and then Question and then EVERYTHING!!!

Behind the fridge and back again

I've achieved a new level of warrior. I've seen a mouse in my house 3 times in the last 24 hours. I'm not sure if it's the same mouse or three different mice. Either way, I don't like it. And every night I can hear the mouse/mice digging into the cereal box, and actually munching away. It's loud and frightening and even obnoxious. Well, last night I pulled the fridge out and removed the box of cereal and threw it in the garbage chute. The mouse had eaten a perfect hole in the box. I was expecting to see a few cereal flakes on the floor but it looked like half the bag had been emptied out. And much of that was halfway under the 40 year old linoleum. I was appauled. And I was still scared out of my mind because I thought the mouse/mice might be under the fridge and come scurrying out when I started sweeping. I had to take a moment to prepare. I considered leaving that shit where it lay but knew this was where the problem lay. I couldn't take another night of burrowing, crunching mice in my apartment. I took some big deep breaths and I went in. I swept the garbage into a pile then tore the linoleum up and dumped that down the chute. Now I was free to sweep up the 20 pounds of cereal. I did it. And I ended up cleaning up everything that fell behind the fridge since I've been living here. I found some blank dvds and a jar of hand cream. I'm pretty stoked about that. And the best part. No more crunching mice at night. I know they'll still come looking for cereal but they'll be nothing there. Now all I have to do is get over my fear of mouse traps and I'll be good to go. I know that's weird but I don't want to get my fingers clamped in the trap.

Breakfast was great

I did a funny/weird thing. I got up this morning and curled my hair and put on make up before I met up with my friend. I wasn't sure how he would respond to seeing me sort of dolled up, but I kind of did because he has done/said some things in the past. Today, he looked a little surprised and then he said he liked my hair. But I didn't get any googoo eyes or dazed looks so I guess my plan didn't work. What am I saying? What am I doing? I don't know. I think I want him to be attracted to me. But we are friends. It's probably best that way. I remember last year when it started to warm up for summer and I came to work looking kinda cute. He was visibly stunned. I ignored it. I don't know why. It was like he didn't know what to do seeing me as attractive, I think.

Anyway, we had a great time at breakfast today. It took a few minutes for my son to warm up to him but not long. We went to a matinee afterwards, the movie was okay. Then we listened to music in his car and he gave us a ride back to the train station. It's great because I like him, I think, and he doesn't know, I think, and we are great friends. I've never had a guy friend like him. He's just the coolest. Not to say he's perfect because he's not. But I had such a good, chill, laid back time with him today and he totally knew how to get my son to warm up to him and they sat next to each other in the theater, for a while. I think I'm a little high off our session today. Hope I see him tomorrow at work.

I feel like a school girl. I don't know if that's right or good. I feel like it's sort of foolish to like him too. I wish you could answer me back, dear blog. I will undoubtedly talk about him in therapy. It's funny the emotions that I go through behind the scenes, and he doesn't even know. I actually hope I can convince myself to not like him. I don't want to be that chick, the one that likes and pretends not to know her nipples are hard or her g-string is showing in order to get attention.

Frightening

And the hits just keep on coming. More guys responding to my post. I can tell they want some e-sex. It's disturbing. Only a handful of guys will I reply to.

I'm on my way to have breakfast with my friend. I want to ask him why he flirts. I want to put him on the spot because that way I'll get the real answer. The truth. Perhaps I will stop telling him I love him. But I do. But I cant. We are born to contradict ourselves.

Good morning blog

I woke up and had 33 new emails in my inbox. I put one little plain simple post on Craigslist. And now there are a lot of men that want to IM me, apparently. I don't know but after reading them I got scared. I don't want a relationship with them and I don't want to make sexy talk with them, definitely not. I know what it is. I'm looking for (P). (P) is a man I met on Craigslist. Ironically, we were sort of erotic pen pals. But we never met, we certainly never had sex. (P) was/is(?) a writer like me. He blew my mind every time I got an email from him. It's funny because I have his email address. And I know he peruses the Missed Connections every night, so I know I can contact him if I really want to. And I really want to. And I really don't. It's so complicated.

Writing for my Internet audience who does not know who I am. I am married, separated for a year, headed for divorce. My marriage has long since been in the toilet. I stopped wanting to be intimate with my husband a long time ago, although I continued to do it, even after we were separated. I haven't been physically intimate with anyone besides my husband since I've been married to him. I did, however, find someone online, (P), who became my erotic pen pal, as I mentioned before. I wrote a short story about my sexual frustration and posted it on CL. Of all the men that responded (P) was the most literate, respectful, intelligent, easy going, and the one that I wanted to continue corresponding with. And yet what brought us together was the tension we felt in our lower parts, so we sort of slowly built up this sexual tension until it boiled over and we were writing our full on, hard core fantasies to each other, with each other. It was the most exciting thing I've done in a long time. We'd write fantasies with each other in them, we'd write fantasies, handing them off to each other. It was like Tag Team Fantasy. It was incredible. And then my husband found something I'd written to (P) and accused me of sleeping with him, which wasn't true, because I never saw or spoke to (P). If he was standing next to me on the corner I wouldn't know it. But it sucks because now I have this fucking scarlet letter on my head, let my husband tell it, and it's just not true. It's not true.

So my husband found (P)'s email address and emailed him accusing him of sleeping with me. (P) told my husband that we will never have a communication again.

I don't know why I'm on CL again. It's like I'm looking for (P) even though I know exactly where he is. It's like I want the same excitement over again and I know exactly where I can find it. But I don't know if he will respond. I'm hoping he will, knowing my circumstances have changed. He told me he would always be there for me, he would be my pages whenever I want to write. Of course this was before we were found out but a large part of me wants that to be true. He will probably read what I have to say but not respond. He loved my writing. He loved my stories. He might not be able to resist after a while. I don't know. Maybe I can break him. He was so thrilling. I miss him immensely.

You will find that I write about men from my past, men that I hope will be in my future, men that I do not know, that do not know me, that know me and don't know I like/love them, actors, musician, ITS technicians.

Niceties

What more can I say.

Writing for my audience of one...

...and it's not me, it the mouse behind my refrigerator burrowing into the box Honey Nut Cherrios that's been back there for 3 months. Finally.

Oh how crushing it is to...

...find out someone you might be interested in is married. And yet you feel dignified because you would never adulterate with them and you are glad they are in love. And you are still lonely on Saturday nights and most other evenings.

And we empty our brains onto the internet...

...only to be saved and forgotten. That way the FBI can find us if they need to.

I am listening to OneRepublic...

and leaving a trail of bread crumbs to my identity.

We'll never overhear this

"The Leaning Tower of Pisa is not leaning anymore."

Rock is a woman

She'll rattle your brain around and leave you on your knees begging for more. She'll rock your body, rock your body, lock your body, shock your body, knock your body.

Am I ready to say that I'm in love with him...

I started to cry in therapy the other day, but then I stopped myself. I was talking about him, which I've been doing a lot lately. He keeps saying he loves me. It jump starts my heart every time and I try to make it mean something else, something other than what I want it to mean. He is an amazing person. He is funny and generous and adorable. He's 10 years younger than me. He probably doesn't know how much he means to me. I don't know. I think about him in ways that inappropriate, but they arouse me, and make me uncomfortable. I just don't know what to do with him except be friends with him. I want to know him for life. I want to live with him and love him. I don't know if there is anything else in between. We should be friends for life. No matter.