I went from having a weird semi-writer’s block last week to having a complete full-blown lack of inspiration. Did you notice the complete stop (not to mention the period) at the end of that sentence? I was hoping that writing about it would free me up, but so far that hasn’t happened. That it started when I joined The Black Seals is pure coincidence, I hope. I haven’t really posted anything new there, since I was hoping I’d concentrate on my novels once that area is set up. There again, please was meant to be posted there, but I decided to duplicate post both there and here, just so I could get some more reviews. Nobody has reviewed it there yet – sometimes I wonder if people are afraid to review me because I’ve started getting a little more brutal with the reviews I give – all well meaning and nice, but I’ve just become a little less tolerant of poor work. It’s partly to do with the fact that I’ve become disappointed with the quality of the reviews here, and decided to start bringing up the level on my own. Not a single person has noticed that the poem was a chain of haiku! There are a lot of kiddies around here now, and I’m not going to stoop to their level. This is an adult site, so I’m going to treat everyone like an adult.
So this has become a fucking rant. I don’t like swearing, but sometimes that’s what it takes. (I also wanted this to fall distinctly into adult writing. Gotta have the obligatory fuck. It’s all the rage now.)
Sometimes it takes talking about sex. (You knew that was coming, didn’t you?) I was poking around Flickr for some avatar pictures for future work and possibly some inspiration. I thought maybe it was time to find some artistic male bodies. I was so disappointed. Everyone thinks that all we want are muscles and maybe a peek at genital hair. Well, I’m not into muscle, frankly. (I guess that might explain why most of the avatars I post are women. They are meant to represent my main character, which is often some vestige of me.) I’ve decided that I like light, shade, character, and innuendo. Rarely do male nude portraits have any of that. They are all about showing his body. I want to know what is inside, to see character in his eyes, to feel his heart, to touch his soul. So many of them cut off him off at his nose. There is character elsewhere, but I wouldn’t expect to find any in his six-pack.
Where does that leave me? Back where I started, looking for character, for inspiration, for hope – hope that I’ll kick this funk.
Maybe I should blame it on my bee-sting. Last week, I got stung while I was running. I had to stop for a barking Scoobie-Doo who had taken far too much interest in me for my safety. Moments after his owner had him under control, I felt a sharp pain in my shin. I assume that it was a bee. If it had been an adder, there would have been fang marks, and I’d probably be in the hospital now. (Yes, there are adders in the wood in which I run.) Anyway, by the time I finished my run (4 miles later), it had swollen, and I was getting pins-and-needles type pain all over my shin. I kept an eye on it for the next 2 days before it was back to normal.
I guess I’m normal now – for me at least – except that the bee has sucked my soul out of me. I want it back.
(reprinted from WritersCafe.org from 2008)
This morning was one of the coldest of the year here. My black Nike tights, the ones that should have been a forgotten item of apparel by now, came out of the drawer again, along with my white Nike thermal top. That’s right, cold is black and white to me and branded discreetly with little Nike wings on my ankles and left breast. That one was hidden under my blue Nike sweatshirt, which is my almost daily companion, hot or cold. In case you are wondering, my shoes are Nike, too. I’m a mobile Nike advert. You can’t see that which isn’t Nike, my underwear, and I’ll leave that to your imagination.
I expected it to be the usual cold 5-mile Tuesday morning slog (Wednesdays and Saturdays are my long days), but this morning I was greeted by a hot air balloon, hovering about 30 ft over the field that I was passing. It couldn’t have been more than 50 yards away from me. I think they had stalled there, as the air was perfectly calm. They must have been freezing their tootsies off! (I’d warmed up by then.) It would have been fitting for the balloon to be branded Nike, but no. Coincidence didn’t run quite that far today. It was a bright red Virgin … you know, Richard Branson, et al. Is he a virgin? One wonders. Maybe he was when he formed his company. He was probably barely out of short pants then. Anyway, it was a surreal sight at 7:15 am on a brutally cold, sunny, frosty morning. Cold seems colder here in the UK than it does elsewhere because it is so damp. It was really only about 25 degrees (F). About a mile further into my run I spied another balloon – no, not Nike either. This one had an ITV logo and had stalled in the next field over by the time I passed it again on my way back. The Virgin had fled to the local glider club’s airstrip about a half mile away.
That bit of excitement was a nice distraction, so I ran well today, but it also got in the way of my intended topic for this week’s missive. I was in the newsagent the other day, and I allowed myself to peruse the top shelf. For those who have never been to the UK, that’s where they keep the men’s mags. I’ve never understood why men are so obsessed with udders so large that women lean forward when they walk. I’ll stick with my lightweight, aerodynamic design. I’m rambling again. What intrigued me was all the talk about improving your sex life, satisfying your lover, punishing your girl (she’ll love it, they say – not me, thank you), 3-ways to prolong your sex, 10 ways to improve your sex, and 5 ways to attract your ideal woman. There was one story that spurred me on to this topic, and I (in my dotage) have completely forgotten the title. I think it was on the April Loaded. Their website is already onto May, and I couldn’t be bothered to trek around to find it again.
Of course, I didn’t read the articles, but they started loads of fantasies spinning around in my head, as such things do. Why this obsession with finding the perfect act, the perfect position, the attractions? It seems so simple to me. The single thing that attracts me to a man is that he is relaxed and self-confident without being too full of himself. He should be attentive to my needs without being overbearing. He should open doors for me, not because I’m a woman, but because it is polite to do so. This type of man cares about his appearance, but not too much. Individual features don’t matter. Applications will be considered; post them in my forum, but be advised that if you have resorted to that, you probably have already disqualified yourself. That means you are desperate.
How do you satisfy me as a lover? Simple:
1. Sex. Be adventurous and unpredictable, but not gross. I prefer being on top of you, but variety is a wonderful thing … and you know what, it doesn’t matter if either of us doesn’t orgasm, it’s the fun of getting there that pleases me. We can always try again, and we will hopefully.
2. Sex. I want to see you, to touch you, to be touched by you, and to be seen by you; that’ll start my ticker going. Talk to me, but keep it clean, and don’t distract me from what you are doing, and I won’t be offended if you tell me what you want. I may just do the same. Let your tongue do some of the talking and the walking, too.
3. Sex. A little moisture doesn’t hurt anybody – saliva, the other stuff, food products.
4. Sex. If you are interested, let me know. I don’t care if you are obvious, but if I’m not in the mood (when am I not in the mood?!), I’ll tell you. Don’t be afraid to initiate contact, and I won’t be either.
5. Sex. Touch me. Have I said that before? Touch me as often as you want, wherever you want, but don’t embarrass me in public.
6. More sex. I think I don’t need to go any further. You probably have the idea by now. Oh yes, don’t forget to kiss me. I want your tongue in my mouth (as well as the other places), and I want to taste you.
Damn, do I want it now! Where are you?! (You can find me in the shower.)