6/3/03 I've said it before, but I'll say it again: There's nothing wrong with me except I'm not happy. I've just got to get happier somehow. Then I'll be healthier, the whole bit.... * Let’s see if I’ve got this straight: We can’t count on the internet to remain free (big surprise). But at least for now, as long as you go over the phone lines, they can’t fuck with your information because the phone lines are legally required to be common carriers. There either are no, or are about to be no such restrictions, however, on the cable companies. They can, or will be able to soon, censor. What’s this mean? a) we’ve got to do as much damage as we can, fast b) we’ve got to fight to prevent further enabling of censors c) we’ve got to remain vigilant for other conduits, other more universal networks that will metaphysically resist being tied down. (teh-dsa....) 6/4/03 Getting a haircut can make you feel rejuvenated. If you go from long to very short, though, you might catch yourself tossing your head like a distracted horse, though you have no hair to flip! * Hazel remains my primary inspiration, though we are abandoning each other yet again. My daily prayer: this shall not be the end of it. * Organic memory is massive, compared with synthetic, but peppered with mistakes (chaos). These mistakes in their singular evolution constitute what we think of as creativity or intelligence. No one representation is more accurate or ìrealisticî than any other; you’re comparing the finite to the infinite. And every thing is a representation! So give up. Give in! Use whatever blocks are at hand and build what they build, or un. * And suddenly, just like that, it’s fun again. Weird. * Little kids don’t have to do yoga, little kids don’t have to remember to breathe in the screen door back of the cafe early summer late evening harmony mystery firefly perfection. Regardless of ìyourî product specifications or specific state of (dis)repair, synchronicity will still happen, and you will remain as much a part of it as any other dry leaf skirling along the autumnal * Hazel. You perfectly egocentric, selfish little vixen. How I miss your acrid little snatch. Already again. 6/10/03 My daughter looks a lot like a little monkey when she’s halfasleep on top of the cushionny mound of mommy. * Well while I have this evening's before-I-go, still steeped in waning hydrocontin fuzz, i'll ask the teh-dsa its watery question and answer and question again.... You know what's weird? I wouldn't mind sitting here quite a while longer, listening to people's lame conversations and occasionally tinkering with the Hairy elbow Show. The one thing that tugs at my contentment right now is not knowing if Cholula's home yet, or if she is if she's still sad and if she's going to be reproachful that I'm gone so long. Sucks, don't it? And yet, finally, it's something I've agreed to have to deal with. Therefore not as evil as all that. Believe it or not. 6/11/03 Ain't got nothing else to do? smoke or enjoy results-free movement ; the liquidation of your terrestrial fears go to the snoke ; sit in there while men of many shapes come and go, come and go, each time eddying the steamy breeze. You realize you are cruising! you're just not very adamant about it. Draw me a picture of the snoke. 6/12/03 teh-dsa textuelle works like teh-dsa field day except, when a moment is repeated, instead of making a folder of the moment and renaming the duplicate moments as their creation dates, we'll just add to the existing text file. Therefore there will be a maximum of 720 text files as long as we're using this system. As long as textuelle is housed in Esriel's Cafe (this moment), I'll stik the files in hourly folders (tables) for the sake of tidiness and interactivity. If for whatever reason you get whacky and crazy and start putting stuff in various folders of various names, then whenever two identical moments come together they can just merge into one. To make a Periodical: get text from a moment, pix from the same moment, and lay them out however you like. Save as Weekday ####. Question: should the #### be the same as the moments you got it from, or a different time (implying that you made the periodical at a different time than the moment you made it from)? Because that would make new linkages, weavings.... Yessssss................ And remember--you can always throw away, add, or change anything. 6/14/03 People say kids and young people think they'll live forever. I didn't. Now, however, I realize I did feel invincible. I didn't think it, I felt it, and furthermore I didn't think I even felt it. I had nothing to which to compare how I felt, of course, I just felt like myself. I still do, but the accumulation of humbling experiences--hurting my back, losing love, gaining a family, etc--has changed what "myself" feels like, both incrementally and, at times, catastrophically. 6/15/03 Happy Father's Day. The ultimate judge of poetry is not whether it is good or bad, but whether it exists. And all poetry exists somewhere. Yesterday on the radio I caught a blip of something I thought at the time was bland, unexciting, not "good." But it's still in my head, isn't it. It said, "When you live alone, nobody cares if you live alone." Oh yeah. Here's the other thing. I can't really be mad at Si. Because I understand and agree with her position. She was the real thing, and I couldn't handle it so I went with someone who plays the thing. Si was really dominant, playing the princess to manipulate. She really expected me to put up with her flirtations and inconsistencies, and she wouldn't play dress-up S&M games just to please me. Cholula pretends to be dominant because I want her to. I am aching to subject myself, yet living in the role of a dominant husband--complete with the doofusy, teddy-bear token submissions that cliched package arrives with. Honey, schnookums, oh that man never stops to ask for directions, yes dear. I am a prisoner in my own freedom. I have forsaken the princess. Why? All for my daughter? or out of fear? 6/16/03 Finally got out of the house, after all the little things she thinks of for me to do before I go, and now I don't have a god damned thing to say. It's hot, bad-tasting and smoky up here on the second floor amidst all the people who look, because I am a zombie, like zombies to me. It's not even about the princess. It's about the queen: me. * Impoverished. Poetic spirit thirsty. So many dreams. Last night, flying over brooding, nightlit Seattle. On my way back to where Cholula was. I had a long way to go. All the way across town. Started out walking, realized I could fly. It wasn't any faster, but it was a lot more enjoyable. Average elevation about 40 feet. Occasional swimming motions with my arms to keep going. Didn't have to keep landing and taking off again, as other times flying. Just flew. Maybe stopped to get a hot dog. Maybe just window shopping. That ruddy, low light was there again. That illumination from within. * What makes a story a story is the happening of a thing you thought couldn't or at least definitely shouldn't happen. 6/18/03 Try as I might to defend my self-image thru cynicism, I will strongly love this country as long as I can sit, unmolested and in good conscience, in cafes like this and type and think and drink and smoke. Most of what I complain I can't do I merely haven't tried yet. 6/21/03 verb tenses are ornamental, as any now is as now as any other. * I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm gay. The question is, will I get too old before the bulldog gets too strong? * Declarations may be unfashionable, but they're cheap. And sometimes effective. I still like them. I still smoke them. Even if I am supposed to have grown out of them by now. Let's... smoke some declarations! * Yes, girls are nice! How many times do I have to say that! I don't care! I'll say it again! But it's not about niceness. Don't you see? It's not about soft mounds, it's not about what you will eventually get tired of again! It's not about the dull ache you don't even realize you've gotten used to until something--jerking off, fucking, anything--reminds you, lets it all pour out, even if only for a few, precious, horrible floodgate moments! It's not about that dull ache you've gained from pretending. You fucking genius, you've pretended so good you don't even know you're pretending anymore! You could be fucking brain robot zombie wiped hyp-mo-tized with the truth serum and you'd never crack! Fuck! Fuck you! It's not about fucking FUCKING, god fucking damn it! Fuck! Duhhhh, what's it about then? Oh, for fuck's sake. Do I have to go thru this again? (oh yah--I forgot. Sometimes it is about fucking.) Something kind of amazing about my absolute, brakes-screeching, sirens-wailing, utter unwillingness not to play out this pathetic, outmoded story--this story wherein the hero (god how I hate that term!) has to go to that place (and that term!) where everything is lost, really lost, before he finds what could only be described as redemption (god how I cling to that term!). Narcissism. Distorted world view. Newspapers turning piss-gold in the smoky afternoon. Ah. 6/23/03 beginning to appreciate value of pain pills. affords some relaxation of being stoned without slowing down your damn brain so much. better? different? no more or less so than nitrous oxide, sodium hypochlorite, or talcum powder. On the other hand, you get this: that guy blackhaired over there tap-tap! tap tap tap tap! ing his cigarette box in tune with the rhythm on the hifi but not. it's off just a little bit and it sounds [exit to janusNode Roy is at Table 9. You are proud of him. "I am proud of myself for asking the pretty young girl behind the counter, 'Is it all right if I use some of your electricity?'" he says. And it shocks him when she says, wigl remain free (big surprise). But I'll ask for other conduits, other thing. Si was there while longer, listening to no one representation is the autumnal * Hazel. 6/24/03 is it cocksuckin time yet) i rode slowly past a restroom--an outhouse--in estabroke park. the doors were open like an empty boxcar's the women's, gold, taupe, selected dark colors of the night the men's the men's (he paused 6/25/03 a man is playing softly with a guitar over there. i came here instead of going to capoeira. i feel good & bad about that. good=being here and doing this bad=feeling like a coward guilty=wondering if Cholula wants me home no, is that really it? guilty=that? are you sure? I wish i could go somewhere to find out, like, i don't know, like some kind of magic cafe or something where anything can happen and i have some real balls and can do stuff whenever i really really really really feel like it. Oh yeah? Yeah. Let's go! You dork. No, I'm serious. I know. That's why I called you a dork. So are you coming or not? Yes, I'm coming, you sadistic son of a bitch. Ahhhhhhh. That's cute. Now clean up your pretty little mess and follow me..... * I can go in the solarium any time i want, wearing any type of shoes. i live here! i can do whatever i want! I just usually CHOOSE to go there wearing slippers and a silken blue nightie. moonlight blue. * guilt resides in the neck. * The lessons come too fast when I'm stoned. * Wonder if Cholula's home yet wonder if'll tell her i didn't go to class wonder what i'll say was why wonder if she'll look me in the eye * does the fascination with how long i'll stay versus how strong the guilty pull affect my performance here? * is it a performance here? * I hope my bike is still down there. I hope it hasn't rusted to pieces. It rains here and it rains in esriel's cafe. It's just that here, i have to ride home. * there's another boy wearing an "honesty is in" t shirt. it's green. * i'm a gay guy with a weakness for pussy. * always asking "what am i supposed to be learning from this" seems wise, but occasionally you might want to answer the question. * I'm also a strong boy with a weakness for pussin out 6/26/03 I'm sitting in the library, plugged into their juice, reading about the play of form and content, and social software. This field of text swims before me and i engage with it. we spar. we lick tongues. (i am also wearing a chastity device) * It's weird. I wafted thru the library looking for and picking up books, carried them back to the table. plugged in. went into my personal cache of the great wafer, and forgot about the books. I love the computer. It's weird. It's even scary. But I love it. the computer. the one great ocenstobee nose all. and from that dayuponwards, we didn't. fence. alley gravel gray lucent leaf green neverending black and comfortable, perfect, cozy, decaying brick red. give me some inspiration, cock-lock! (it smiles downward & waits..... i love to fill it. i love to fill my cock lock til my balls ache. i like to lick and suck at nothingness, always just beyond my reach! * [scene report] I'm going back & forth between a book, now, and writing more words down about my cock-lock. It's nice like a canoe trip. * I was just feeling lonely, here in the library on my long lunch. then i remembered i can go to the bathroom and play with my chastity device. ah. it's like an electric security blanket. * The cock lock makes me a comic book super hero. * With a great weakness in a place of great strength * To insist that kids be kept sheltered from anything that might hurt or confuse them is sheer suicide. * I get the occasional urge to tug at my scrotum to pull the lock ring farther down toward the base of my penis. The base does flare there considerably. I had not appreciated how much, before. This morning I tried on the larger ring, because of last night's blueball (feeling, not color) experience. But it just didn't feel snug enough. So I'm back with the second-largest one, in so many ways. And you know what? I'm actually kind of looking forward to the ball ache tonight..... 6/27/03 Is the teh-dsa yearning to be a complex adaptive system? * I just want someone, preferably several, genuinely to find me sexy. The cartoon wolf head with make-up on sez, Is that so wrong? Is the presence of the disembodied silken hand an indication someone does? SNMOKEONMOKE * An interesting thing about this (TOO MEEEEEE!) is this: is this: is: this :is, attention diverted to (but not untempered by herself) keyholder simply because she is the keyholder. yes, it is a thrill to be "not a man" adrenaline ginseng cola coffee donut rush on hi wire thrill as a matter of fact the weakest parts are the least interesting parts. we tend not to stare at them and take a lot of pictures I feel the regular guilty pull of the afternoon. Realize she's not home! Okay, does the guilty pull come from a) her sexily witching me from afar b) me sexily secretly beggin for it c) the invisible silken hand with the iron grip d) the drugs e) the dogs e) all of the above (If e) or e), then good. {and here the "program" inserts its own "will" to ask a "question"} When are you going home? In a while mommy. WHEN in a while. (whimper){hesitate--the silken hand clamps down--} I'll leave here at six thirty, mommy! [sudden, exquisite, numb pain}OKAY! Okay! I'm leaving here at six, mommy{and just the way she said "good boy" is hurting yet Okay. It works. You win. I can't even roll a fucking fag. * antique envelope from one of our wedding party guests or non-guests. It says, "Enjoy" I don't know who it's from, but I like it. I imagined for a while it was from Charlotte. On our refrigerator, after she's gone: "I love you dada MEGGY" in big magnet letters. I know exactly who that's from, and I love them both. 6/27/03 * You want to make sure it's pushed down in there before it starts to try to get hard. So far I haven't had much urge to try to find the key. Tried to masturbate at work, failed. Balls ached. Exploring question of whether testicles could slip out thru gap, don't think so. Certainly don't want to try right now. I think of Si and it sends a zap: can't even jerk off to her now. And every time I think of her, my thoughts are linked to... * I'm so horny. And the hornier I get, the more my balls ache, which eventually dampens the horniness, then my balls relax and i feel so relieved i start to get horny again. Things, were I reading them, that would strike me as cliches, are true. I think "maybe i'll go masturbate" more often than i would have thought-- i'm turned on AND disgusted and afraid. * There's usually a reason things ring true. The reason is usually: they're true. the perfect outfit (for now): my baby doll heels, the shimmeing green slip i can barely get out of once in, her perfume (generous), and the curve. beautifulpathetic * I would SO go and masturbate right now! This is so cool! * Every time I realize it again, it takes my breath away: my cock is beautiful in it! I know I'm going to fuck myself up the ass tonight--probably soon! even though i know i'm not going to be able to come, and it's going to hurt. I know at some point I'll look at pictures of Si too. I'll do all the stuff I would ordinarily do in a situation like this, except touch myself. It makes a big difference. * Why is it that the hotter the chick, the more exquisite it is when she cheats on you. If only there were some way to keep the really hot ones, you pathetic loser. You still crave her, she is untouchable. She is the one true power. Even as you wear this comical and sad device. You wear her collar, and no matter how many times the puppet mistress cums on it, or pisses on it, or shits on it, it will always be for her. Admit it. You know who I am, who it is telling you this. You know me. You know me well. * Yep. I'd definitely go masturbate now. * Oh god. Si. Si. Si. Si. My master Si. It is all I can do not to run to you, to your phantom, to the promise you hold out and always phantasmically retract! I am truly in your bondage. I crave to confess to you, ache to race to your door and see your eyes light up with childlike wonder and evil satisfaction.....! She NEVER gives me what I want! My dumb mistress ALWAYS gives me what I want. Sigh. I'd rather be hungry. Oh jesus, how can I get through this weekend without pathetically calling out to her! Oh god! I will submit, I know it. Yep. I'd definitely masturbate now. * I searched the web for "Si" and she plastered my browser with artistic success. She was clearly and obviously and horribly the first ten or so search results from google. She is so much more successful than me. She is so much more real and solid than me. She is so superior to me. I am her stupid, writhing, weak, unworthy, dorky, pussy of a below-mentioning slave. She has cast her iron gaze away from me punitively, and i truly suffer, not in a shallow erotic sense. I am truly miserable in her displeasure. I ache for her beyond all reason or consolation. On the night of her MFA thesis show reception, here was my oblivious journal entry: "Well. So this is the end of May. It's gray, dingy, dismal, drizzly and cold. I couldn't get to sleep last night. I almost did, but then Cholula came home earlier than expected, and my breathing changed, my alpha waves got choppy, and I stopped thinking about the things I had been thinking about. Like things it is a sin to say, and "anything can be in the cafe." And so on. Other crap like that, just flowing in and out as I oscillated toward blessed rest. Moonbeam was rocking beside me. I had rocked her to sleep in my arms, and tho my back ached, it was good. God help me. What am I going to do.----" 6/28/03 You know what's more arresting than wearing a cock lock? wearing a cock lock under tight jeans. Did you see what I typed when I was drunk & stoned? (Mike's leprechaun asks) Look, it doesn't always feel like this, but right now, this is what I feel like I DO. This: astonishingly lame as it is: sit in cafes. Smoke. Drink coffee. Type. Repeat. At this moment, this is IT. Everything else: the cock lock, the tortured romance, the seagull shit, car exhaust, backaches, pussy aches, dejection, rejection, jealousy and rage: it's all part of IT. So here I am. Doing this. * Another fucked-up sex game I'd like to play is: forced bladder/bowel control. Driven to eventual self-soilage. * Just saw Tam (at fuel) the shining Capoerista. He was very outgoing and kind. We talked. He left to go tear apart his bathroom and put it back together. One more smoke and then I'm going to go--to work! * Okay. I'm a bisexual female. * The reason I push for her to cheat on me & humiliate me is I don't have the balls to be unfaithful myself. At least this way, I get to suck up the thrill. And distract myself from the evil grin of my beckoning freedom. * A FORUM OR CHAT ROOM IS A REAL CHATBOT!!!!!!!! * Here's another funny thing> Ordinarily I masturbate and my mind goes or my soul or my spunk anyway goes right to where the searing fantasy is. It's a way I divine what's really going on with me. It tells me things, looking at the direction the spunk takes me. Deprived of that divining rod, so to speak, I find myself awash in competing waves of fantasy, nostalgia, practicality, wickedness, and just plain old, omnidirectional lust. * And here's a thing about how it's linked to the keyholder: even though I'm wanting, at this point, to express my lust almost any way I can, such that I'm seriously considering going to a gay bar and trying to get up the courage to find somebody to suck or otherwise serve, there is always the strong background hum of HER, she can command my attention right now as no one else can, because I KNOW SHE CAN ACTUALLY FINISH ME OFF. Of course, we would be remiss if we didn't mention the fact that if i REALLY wanted to, I could cut this dumb thing off me. And go get fucked, or just wank like a sonofabitch. I HAVE NOT DONE THAT, NOR WILL I. SO WHY ISN'T SHE CALLING OR EMAILING???!!! * Yep, I'd definitely go masurbate now. * Duh, I suppose what would happen eventually is I'd start having wet dreams. If I could sleep thru the discomfort.... 6/29/03 I guess what it comes down to is i'd rather stay with my wife than go back. She's my mud show now. I want to suck her up and suck up to her. I don't care how fat she is or isn't. I want her mother-in-law to discipline me too. Fuck me, yeah, I said it. O btw, I had it off and I put it back on. Without coming first. Now I still have the key, but as soon as I'm assured that the new configuration won't hurt me overly much, i'm going to disappear it. and wait for my mommy to come home. like a good boy. * This has been one trashed, smoked weekend, man. I did jack. Jack jack jack. Everything except jack, acually! Smoke, smoke, smoke. If I remember this one at all, it will probably be for all the smoke. and the weird way that god damned chastity device felt comforting. * Okay that configuration didn't work either. Let's try the next smaller ring. For the next smaller cock.... Yep. I'd definitely masturbate now. Hm. That ring might work. Third largest one. It hurts pretty bad if I get hard, but seems fine when I'm not. Of course, the nature of it makes it hard not to get hard.... I took it off again. I'm cheating. I wasn't as worried as I told myself I was. But will I make it thru the night without cumming? Does it matter? Hhoo cares? * I think I'm going to go masturbate now