I've been in a strange mood for weeks now. Lost seven days from work because I couldn't function.
My comment wasn't about women in general. I was talking about oral sex in the context of male homosexuality ala The Crying Game when I said I prefer to have oral sex from women...either that or not waking up enough to care whether its a man or not.
...and if anyone who wants to 'lie there, inert...' while things are done to them it's me.
Then again, there's Nick Nolte in Night Watch and, arguably the best necrophila scene of all between Kate Winslet and Joaquim Phoenix in Quills...then there's a movie...have to look up the name...in which a mortuary attendent is having sex with a female corpse and she wakes up...talking about hysterical running away...but it goes on from there to use this as the basis of a relationship that forms between the two.
Not that I'm into necrophilia, I'm just using it as the ultimate in 'women who just lie there, inert.'
OK, I'm in a strange mood. Flittering back and forth between sanity and madness. Funny thing is that thinking you are sane is the best indication of madness.
when the mind wanders about>> next time I must read your notices looking more for the messages underneath: sorry I'd forgotten about that. But I appreciate you letting me do a little brainsports when reading your texts. Thanksalot
It rains and rains and rains 1st May-Manifestation (organized here in Germany by the Unions)was a fiasco. Tomorrow I'll portrait a young Romanian- I hope I will get her as nicely pictured as she is in real life. If it won't rain, we will shoot in a quiet port if it rains: at the Railway station with lots of on-lookers (I hope she will cope) if this wont work, I'll take my flashes to her place. All in a bicycle! I suffer (and love it haha)
I no longer have the stability to ride a bycycle. I've fallen over seven times in the last few months...things fall apart, the centre cannot hold...all a bicycle would do is get me going faster when it dumps me on the concrete curb.
I am thinking of getting a cane. Actually, what I have more in line is a crudgel. Enough to steady me on rough terrain but also enough for me to beat some punks in before he figures out who the real bad guy in this situation is.
I saw one once that had a flashlight in the handle and a taser in the cane. Old guy, wandering the night...a little flashlight just like to bring them in. All you have to do is poke them in the gut with your cane, make the connection, then he goes down and flops like a fish.
My problem is the old 'flight or fight' thing. Used to be I was damn good at flighting. It kind of became my speciality. But I fall down. I can't run...if I can't flee then I'm forced to have to fight...unless your gonna let some punk kid you've got short stories older than have his way with you.
I'm sorry, I'm an old man, not a dead man. Vengeance is Mine, saith the Philip!
I am old and crotchety. What a word. You know, being old on the whole just sucks. Things hurt that didn't used to hurt. You become totally aware of Your Body, Your Self. Old is kinda like two guys doing the wink-wink, nudge-nudge at the watercooler and talking about you saying,
"Hey, did you hear about Phil Jarrett?
"Yeah that's the guy with more balls than brains.
"Well guess what?"
"Ok, don't guess, I'll tell you about ole Flip...
"...he's getting old."
Then doing all the shushing and swishing in the air like he could take the words back if he could just disrupt the sonic pattern of your voice.
"You gotta promise not to tell!"
Sure you do.
Not till I got you on the other side of that door and the deadlock is thrown.
Good, solid doors with deadlocks...shit that would take a beating with a sledge hammer and shrug it off...a place you can secure from the inside and never half to worry about anyone getting in...like those panic rooms, only you wire your whole room like one.
First anyone has to do in their life is to find or make a place that is totally secured and his alone.
You want a completly shielded environment free from any chance of an electronic invasion.
You want deadbolts, two at best, three never hurts, sunk into deep frames on the door jambs. Door itself should be riveted steel...1/4 inch best.
You'll want to have a hole you can duck down into a totally secure environment shut off from the outside by air locks and filters and bottled air...belt and suspenders....
And you'll want guns. Lots of guns.
In the US at a yardsale I saw boxes of Zombie Killers for the first time. Special bullets with a plastic casing and a soft lead green bullet that packs a punch and eats your lunch.
Actual ammunition meant for zombie killing. You want a low powder cartridge to give you a slower...not faster...speed coming out of the barrel. Then you got the tip. What you had was a free floating ball that, when the shell is discharged and speeding towards the target...in this case, right smack into the center of a pale, flesh-eating Zombie. That ball...painted green for Zombie Killers...is pushed to the back end of a small tube by the centrifugal force of the bullet going from absolute zero accelerating to 1200 feet per seconds or so after coming out of a five inch barrell.
29 percent of the people in the US believe that an armed revolution is not only inevitable but will be a good thing, as well.
Almost 1/3 of people in the country are prepped and primed for an armed revolution.
For various reasons I can't have a gun in my house...nothing to do with anything legal...I've had my patriotism questioned...and justifiably so, I hope. Patriotism is to Politics as Superstition is to Rationality.
I came along in the Sixties and I can tell you, even at the heights of our Radicalism we never...never had a third of the people ready to accept and fight and armed revolution.