Find me where-ever I hide

1 05 2013

Today is a strange day. A very strange day. Today is a day for epiphanies so I guess some writing should be in order. I said I would write more, but I didn’t exactly gave myself a goal. I think that so far two posts a week would be enough, two posts on anything that crosses my mind, not only BDSM but also games and philosophy and other stuff.

Today I speak of myself though, and I speak of a peculiar place where I found myself the other day and I need to explore. This will be a long post, because I have so much in my mind and I need to write it down. I hope my few and patient readers will be forgiving as usual.

Everything started when at a cash desk a sales assistant recognized me as a customer that made some fuss about something a month ago. We work for the same company so when I approached to pay and she made some funny remarks, I thought she was joking.
She wasn’t. She hates me. She hates me because in her memories I made a big mess in her corner of the shop, while in the end I just wanted a bag from a mannequin but we found the bag somewhere else and I bought it.
In her mind, her version of me and of that episode, was of a mad customer – while in my mind I was merely joking about taking it from the mannequin and in the end nothing wrong happened. She told me that I am an egomaniac of some sort – to which I politely stopped talking after I realized to my horror she was NOT joking.
Beside the simple and easy solution that she was not paying attentions to facts but only to her impressions and my erratic behavior  what I found fascinating is something I already tried to learn from: the imagine we have of ourselves vs the imagine others have of ourselves.
A week before, something similar happened at work and I found out that my behavior is interpreted in a very malicious way.
There will always be haters, there will always be backstabbers, I know. I am merely not fitted to cope with them because most of the time I assume that everyone say and does what they like and believe, which is something of such an absurd and naive epicness that I should probably put myself in a mental asylum and threw away the key.
I do though, as much as possible, try to live by a rule of truth and simplicity. I try not to complicate what is already complicated, I try to find a common ground with everybody because I firmly believe we are all human beings and we should behave in a logical and responsible way. I know that my words and my actions have consequences and I expect the same from someone that speaks with me.
Such is not the case. I felt very bad last week because of this, because I could see how much hypocrisy is involved in social interactions, how many lies and how easily the reality of things is distorted.
What eludes me is though the reason why I can’t see this coming, never ever and why I keep trying to find the best in everyone.
For being a depressing and erratic personality, I seem too eager to give the patent of easy-going to everyone, basically doing the same fucking error of applying my way of thinking to everyone. Which is not the case.

I must remember myself I am peculiar. I must remember I am growing to be more and more INTENSE and PASSIONATE about what I like and believe and that my believes and my thoughts are not the ones of the majority. Otherwise the world would be pretty fucked up I guess.
I must constantly remind myself, every time I speak with someone, that they will be prone to misinterpret everything I say, or must I live my life by my rules and don’t give a fuck about people.
How can I make sure that the idea that I have of me – of a smart, easy-going, sometimes depressed, painstakingly ironic geek with intense passions – is reaching out my every day audience?
Am I so different from them?

In all this I still want cock so badly. I want to be punished badly too. I want to be owned. I want to scream to the world I am a fucking faggot and a wannabe slave and I want to live my life as INTENSE as it needs to be. I don’t want anyone to mess with my INTENSITY and my PASSIONS. These are all the beauty I am.

the real question though is:
HOW?

In the meanwhile, porn is the answer. and music too.





And the body will follow

21 12 2011

I spent months here speaking of myself, of my feelings. I am lost into them like in this labyrinth I created, a realm where I am the owner of my own mind space, a king in a land of emptiness. Still though I find myself on my knees, suddenly, only because of the need to answer a series of simple personal questions, drowned again by the river of thoughts I always seems to have in my soul. Will you be able to help me in getting rid of this coating? this thick layer of dust that piled up upon a more deeper and true sense of self? These are the usual questions that are filling my mouth during the weird dreams of this week… because I never dreamed so much like this week and so vividly. I welcome sleep not like a blessing but like an adventure.
So my mind wonders and I find myself in difficulty, again. Why is so difficult to understand and find out what I like? Is that because of my rigid mind, where everything need to have an explanation and a reason? Or is it maybe because again my inner judge is so much stronger than I thought, taking pieces of myself as trophies for his reign of methodical madness? And how does fit in all this the perpetual chaos that lies in my room, where I wouldn’t even want to live but I force myself to survive?
Surely one answer is because I am scared that I might not like what I like. If I had an owner this would make much more sense, but somehow has a meaning even without that. It’s simply the intense fear of being rejected, the irrational feeling of loss… one would like to know and understand in order to please and serve perfectly, in doing so getting rid of the possibility of that rejection so many times experienced and introjected.
Also is quite difficult to discern because one thing is  what I like and another think is what I need… can I make this choice by myself? Am I allowed, as a would be slave, to make a statement as this?
It’s a funny place the mind of a sub, I swear. There are things that we love, things that we hate, things that we get some pleasure from and thing that we adore to be denied or rules we want to follow, certain menial tasks that remind us what we are… most of the time I simply love to ask permission and that is because sometimes I expect a no.  In asking permission I am giving the power to a “you”.  I am delegating a decision to someone else. This is quite important in a slave psyche I suppose too, a simple dynamic of giving up our own control, a gift we are pleased and happy to give away, sometimes a way too lightly.
Also sometimes one doesn’t want to fix a course of action. To name is to block in the process of thought our memories about that specific item. How can I be sure what what you mean is what I mean? My memories are mine only, my meanings are my secret garden.
But funny enough, I’ve always been very bad in putting stuff in order of preference or give them a value. Why is so? Fear to decide? Even the most simple stuff sometimes puts me in a panic state. And that is why I stutter sometimes, because my mind goes too quick and my mouth cannot follow, stuck as it is in trying to elaborate something I consciously know is a mere meaning of a concept I will never be able to explain.
For we are lonely beasts. Were the mind goes the body will follow, with asynchronous grace.

But where my mind goes, right now, I don’t know.
I need a leash for it. I need thicker restraints.

(Waking Life – if you’ve never seen it, please do. You might understand why I can’t speak sometimes)





This makes for quite a depressing read indeed.

4 10 2011

I am sad, there is no denying it. I am deeply sad. The vague reasons for this sadness have been explored earlier in different posts so let’s not go there again.
There is though a central core of emotion that is extremely strong and very deeply disturbing and that’s the one  have to drag with me every single minute of my life… you know what it is? Simple as it sound: eagerness to serve.
I don’t know if many Doms or Masters realize how deep this might run down in a slave soul. I cannot imagine what being a Master is so I can’t make assumptions, but I would like to explain this sentiment and the deepness of it and how it affect my daily life and my thoughts, both my normal thoughts and my horny ones. I think I spoke of it already but, hey, repetita iuvant.

The first and most important thing is the frustration of not being able to express this eagerness, the frustration of not serving. The desire I have to serve is so strong, so potent, that consumes me sometimes, really shadowing my intellect, dampening my logic and self-preservation. Self preservation… yes you got it. There were times in the past when something clicked inside me and my sense of self-preservation somehow disappeared – even briefly – and I could have done anything, anything without even thinking. Like a part of my brain was shut down and something else was in place, wanting more and more and never having to ask to stop. This eagerness is so strong that it led me to make in the past very stupid mistakes. I know now, I try to control it, but should I try to control it? Or these a sort of raw delight in it?
The core of my sadness starts from here, from a lost hope, from the thought that I will never be able to satisfy this ever-famished beast, a certainty that I will find no one to match this bottomless – no pun intended – frustration, someone to give it form and mold it into something else. The frustration is even bigger because I had a glimpse of its beauty, and when I mean beauty I mean Beauty with a capital B. I had a small glimpse of it and I saw how things could be deep and how the emotions would be overwhelming alongside never-experienced pleasures. I saw it, for god’s sake, I can understand it and I can see how marvelous it could be and YET again I can’t have it… because I am blocking myself, because I can’t find someone… the reasons doesn’t really matter here, the fact that matters is that once you’ve been there and you tasted it you want more and more and more. And I’ve been there for a moment and I know how it feels and it makes me feel very bad that I can’t have more of it again. I was there at a certain point, all beaten and horny and helpless and denied and I was feeling so suave – that is a good word for it – that I thought that there could be no coming back, that every moment would be like that. There was fear before but after the point of no return the fear vanished in a pool of moans. I was only pleasure, I was only a yes. I want to go back there so badly and I can’t and the frustration is directly proportional of the strength of that need.
Hence is a hell of a lot of frustration.

But there is more. There is the frustration for wanting and not being able to because I am stopped by my own fears. By the time I meet a Master, usually I already worked out a whole profile of him. I usually spend the time before the session trying to find out a way to not like him in order to made myself  sure it won’t work. Why I do that? Fear. An almost paralyzing fear. Most of the time I react with irony as that is my easier weapon and my stronger shield – not taking myself seriously allows me to not take anyone or anything seriously too. But logic works the same way. I dismantle in order to put aside. Against this weaponry who will conquer the fort? I am the only one able to give the key and yet I can’t find the strength to give it to someone. I know it and it’s frustrating because I want to give it but I can’t.
Someone maybe should simply take it then? Yes – and no. The thought is even more scaring.

Then there is this: the knowledge I am wrong, even for slave standards. It’s not a game, it’s not supposed to be too much of a fair thing, to serve is to serve and is simple as that. Why so often I can’t? Why I can’t give everything. I know I can’t give everything so I don’t give anything at all because in this game I feel one should give either everything or nothing at all, there is no gray area here. So why can’t I do it the simple way: just serving? This is what most Masters expect and this is where I fail them most of the time: I desperately want to be ready but  I am not.

Then there is that I am deeply romantic: I have epiphanies every now and again about my slave side and all I do is being struck with them, leaving them caressing my mind and soul but never really incorporating them, following them, making them true. It’s like I value those moments of clarity but I value them too much. I insult those little epiphanies – like the one I had today and that lead me to write this post – by simply being passive about them, making them somehow just a little piece of a puzzle I cannot solve with the inaction I represent in this moment of my life.

Also there is this brain of mine. It doesn’t shut, it doesn’t stop. Oh please give me a switch, give a moment of rest, please find me a quiet place where to rest and be silent and still. This brain of mine almost always slips in the cracks between things and words and I cannot recover it from there, it’s leaking everywhere. I can’t help it: I see meta-cognitive stuff everywhere. In my words, in my thoughts, in your words, in your gestures. Everything has a double, triple meaning and nobody is here to slap my face and make me stop once or twice or more… for as long as it takes me to make me silent.

And again this irrational fear: I don’t want to be there, I don’t want to feel like that anymore, all conditioned to serve and please and controlled and then the Master disappears and I feel a pain that has no words, that is like a hole in the stomach, like something I never experienced and I never really understood. But at the same time the thought of that kind of strong pain it is so sweet and terrible that it’s shining there with its meaning, inn-corruptible stigma that I am sick beyond normal, that I want myself to suffer both the beauty and the worst of it all.

This is masochism. It’s masochism at its core.

It’s me denying myself of everything. Because I ain’t no good.





Holiday with no rest

30 08 2011

It’s holiday time. The sun is shining the men are hot and tanned but I am sad.
The first thing to make me sad is probably the fact that I am still heavily pointed at and insulted on the streets. I never really got the impression I belonged here, to my country – Italy -, but every time I come back and I experience the bigotry of  my people, I am really knocked down and I feel sad. I can’t go out during the evening, to just walk with my sh0rts on the street filled with people and shops, that someone will point at me, will call the friends and tell them to watch at me… most of the time it’s quite young people, barely 18 yo, from the south by the accent.
It hurts still, it makes me think even more I don’t belong to anywhere, that my place would simply be a hidden and remote hermitage. I considered, when I was young, to join the rank of the hermits that secluded themselves in pace and harmony. It’s a pity I don’t really believe in god anymore.

Then I am sad because I am thinking. I am thnkinking about all the promises that have been made and never kept, thinking about all the trust I gave and now I can’t give anymore after all that happened.
Sometimes I want just very simple things, like resting my head on broad shoulders or arms strong enough to hold me.
I want to belong to someone somehow but here I am, alone again, dreaming of something that will not happen.

I might need change but I don’t know where to start from. Everything seems so difficult and heavy.
All I have is Borges today with me in this holidays. In his worlds I loose myself and maybe one day someone will find me.

I hope it won’t be too late.
Or maybe that time is already passed and all I have it just waiting for my flowers to wither.
Someohow it feels so. It feels so terribly so.

 





Oh well

26 02 2011

I am going through a lot of very different and difficult periods. None of them is really interesting or fun, let’s simply say I wish I would be somewhere else or someone else, I wish I made different decisions in the past, I wish I would have read different books or visited different dreams. I am not who I am suppose to be, or maybe I am what I could be with what was left of me after years of obscure melancholy. Work is what it is, my sentimental life is generally non-existant, I can number my friend in my right end and all of them are inherited from my high school in Italy, so clearly something must be wrong there.
How I ended up being a sort of manager, me that I clearly lack and sense of leadership, that I despise making decision and giving orders, how I ended up I was saying is a mystery it will take me the rest of my funny life to find out.
I try not to lose hope but I think I might be on the verge of the loss already, swimming in waters that I don’t like and that don’t make me in anyway happy.
A friend of mine said I am a missed concubine… and I don’t think he knew how much truth there was in  his words. Or maybe he did and that makes him even more precious (but so distant stuck there in that country that I left years ago to come here in London)

In moments like this one must have a personal space where to hide, a form of Tiffany’s of Capotean memories, a shelter from the overall ugliness of the world, a wall against our own impending demise.
Mine are all very mental space, go figure, and I find them quite revealing my personality.

The first one is the Muppets. I suppose everybody knows the Muppets and everybody spent hours watching them and memorizing every single sketch as a magical formula against any kind of sadness. If not, my friends, let me tell you that in them you will find not only wonderful music but also the balm your soul is craving for, the medicine to mend your broken heart, the pills to colour your sight of pinks and greens and reds over the rainbow.
Looking at the same hilarious sketch will not wear it, will not diminish its power. Watching the same sweet candy song will not gives you less and less pleasure but always the same amount of warm feelings, if not more when in dire need.

The second place is probably Quantum Physics… for reasons that I still have to understand, the mind-crashing logic of the quantum paradoxes are making me extremely dependent on new knowledge and new ways to understand this really funny place we are bound to inhabit for the rest of our life. The fact that sometimes I even understand what they are talking about maybe also helps.

Then there is computer games. Since I am a free slave (lol what an oxymoron) I can spend as much time as I like on silly games, conquering galaxies, killing dragons, saving random peasants from the brutality of the dark ages. It is very funny to remark that no matter what I do, I try to go for the “good” path but I find i very very hard do displease my companions even if is obvious they are evil and they don’t like my course of very good actions. Somehow, even in computer games, I try to avoid conflicts being quite submissive? LOL there is no real hope then form me.

I suppose this three little places where I go to hide when I am sad, are something that speaks about me a lot. Indeed.
And then there is of course the random xtube video (the one where the sub is too cute and moaning so nicely that you cannot avoid to add to your already immense list of favourites). But maybe that’s more jerking material.
Which, looking at things from the bright side, is something that I can go back to do very often and everywhere. Since I am free again and the only limit to my orgasms is my imagination. Charming!





O! what a rogue and peasant slave am I!

15 08 2010

The smell of incense is strong, floating in the room like mist. It supposed to help concentration an relaxation although so far it effect is next to non existent. I suppose relaxing is not what I am best at, quite the opposite to be true. And trying with incense and classical music is not helping.
I like classical music though, a lot, for a number of reasons and a lot of them are related to nice memories from my childhood.

Today I found myself writing about myself as an object. It was quite fun. I suppose that certain dynamics are involved in a feeling of ownership and feeling as an object is one of them? Possibly. Of course the easy step is to compare object vs human being: one supposedly has a degree of will while the other one is simply passive. Is that passivity the lure? Or is more the thought of being owned totally, like an object that one states as belonging to oneself?

Object or human being, that is the question. The first precludes any will while the second involves action and thinking and maybe even something like stating a preference and claiming to have its own peculiar tastes.
Am I ready for that? Am I ready to give up my free will and be just “used”, giving up control in every possible way?
The answer is, of course, no. Although I might like it as a fantasy, and like it a lot as that, I can’t stand it for real.

Interesting finding, boring post. I like, I don’t like, It’s boring, is not boring.
This is the stuff of human being, isn’t it? Good slaves should say only “Thank you Sir” and that’s it.
I can’t.
I guess that makes of me, somehow, rather a failure.

What a novelty, anyway.

That is a sweet memory. I loved that album when I was young, very young, and foolish and even if I wasn’t happy, the music was just making its magic on me and everything seemed possible and everything was true.
Then what happened? When I lost the faith in the future?
That is the question.
If you’ll ever find that question, you’ll find what holds me back.
You’ll free me from myself.





Simple as drinking, difficult as breathing

9 04 2010

Aren’t we always here, trying to find another question or another darn answer?
Three months and I am back on track. I lost my place and now I am slowly finding it back. It’s magic and you know it when you see it, you feel it with the first whip on your skin… it’s magic and it’s a path and it leads me here again and again.
Drawn to explore, bound to face my fears… the real ones… the ones that make you smell badly and wake you up during the night in a pool of sweat. But even behind them there is always the search, the path to knowing myself more and more and more… and facing what I am with more strength, with the joy of truth.
Am I travelling in places too dark? I am dreaming of ownership too vividly? Who knows.
There is pleasure though and joy alongside with pain. And I am glad to give my pain to him, somehow.

It’s strange the world of the mind, its strawberry fields are vast and morbid. Too beautiful to avoid them. It’s time to start to compromise.

So, looks like I have a owner. It’s distant yet, it’s something just starting.
But to start you have to be crazy and I was. To start you have to be the Fool and brace yourself for the journey that starts with a leap of faith.

Here I am, naked and on my knees, gain.
Waiting to learn, waiting to let me go.
Waiting to kiss and swallow.