Explanation time, maybe

8 08 2010

Although today I feel a bit better, there are still a lot of issues I have to address and I don’t know how to address properly. I had another of my small crises just now so is worth to write down something to calm myself and be sure to understand a bit more what’s going on.

A few of this issues are worth a mention today, as a form of simple explanation of that happened a few days ago and what’s happening now as well.
The first, and probably the uncanny mother of all, is that I think too much. “Thinking too much” goes directly into the realm of logic, quite far from the feeling one, and hence starts to overcomplicate things. Thinking is not “logical” per see though… it might be some for of very fantastical or paranoid thinking – usually, in my case, the latter above the first – but it does indeed proceed with logical steps, highly distorted of course by the sense of reality I might have in that moment… a very easy example is that sometimes, when I’m playing with myself in a painful way, I start to think that I might get an infection or something like that and hence in a couple of minutes I will think I will die of some horrible sickness. There is of course no logical connection between placing some pegs for 15 minutes on a nipple and gangrene BUT that doesn’t mean I can avoid to think the worst. Over thinking comes also in play when, like now, I try to analyse myself.
Of course trying to stop the process of thinking is nearly impossible right now… the amount of pain that I would need to inflict myself to do that, is far from my pleasure threshold so I certainly cannot reach that alone… and I’m not even sure is the right method anyway.
In this process of over-thinking of course I need guidance but I feel sometimes is useless to ask question if the answer is that I think too much or that is my fault. It’s pretty much a tautology asking me to stop thinking when I am obviously obsessed by it. I live in a world where everything must have a meaning and must have a place. I am not apt to deal with the chaos of uncertainty or the chaos of my soul.

The second issue would be my general and constant state of sadness. I might be depressed, I might be bipolar… that would easily solve the issue… a pill or two and I would be fine. But is that all? Or there is something else? My case of constant bad moods is dating up a few years ago… so is that related to the fact I am not expressing my “sub” side or is just related to the fact that I can’t deal with it, that I feel deeply and constantly ashamed of what I am and of what I like? Or maybe is something lost in the memories of time, an episode forgotten long time ago, a small thing that left on my breath a token of constant doom? Questions questions again and I don’t have any answers. And the search for those answer just brought me too far from my usual beaches. Itaca is far from being seen on the horizon, isn’t it?
And when I am sad or depressed and hence I am confused why I cannot explain anything about it, why I cannot talk about it? My over-thinking obsession get stuck and “it doesn’t do any good” to explain sometimes. So again is a path to neurosis?

Now, here, in this precise and effective moment I don’t like what’s happening to me, I don’t like what’s going on, I don’t like the person I am becoming. This should be enough for stopping the whole “slave process” thing, because it’s clear that something is wrong – in the process per see? in my head? in my reaction to the process? who knows?.
The focal point is “feeling” now, against thinking… (or is this a kind of thinking, bad paranoid thinking, masked as feeling?) and that’s the feeling that this is wrong and is not doing me any good. I shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t experience this deep despair, I shouldn’t feel so miserable…
What though really impresses me is the depth of this feelings (being they bad feelings of despair of joyfudl feelings of servitude)… they are not easy to describe because there is no words for certain deepness of the soul… or maybe they comes from a realm so far and different from speech that there would be no sense in describing it… the only things that comes to my mind, beside the impossibility of an expression, is the comparison to an idea of death, death as a metaphor of something unreachable or something that avoid any form of explanation: is not there and you can’t explain, is there and you’re not any more.

I put myself in this stupid situation and I cannot escape and now I have to deal with it but I don’t know how.
I’m just too desperate to think of something right now. And after all this wall-of-text, still everything seems so ridiculous and meaningless.
My joy, my pains, my thoughts, my good days, my bad ones… everything seems just too ridiculous to be true. I am but a caricature of myself.
I wonder where it is the switch to light the room and realize that I was just dreaming.

And what if tomorrow I’ll wake up and all this will be another silly rant and the cycle of silliness will start over again? Isn’t this a bit ridiculous as well? Repetita iuvant, they said in latin. I’m not so sure it’s helping me very much, so far.





So far I accomplished nothing

7 05 2010

It’s when you’re in the wrong pizza restaurant, sitting in front of your mother who just told you you’re growing old, nearby your grandmother that is going totally mental and wants to come to live with you, nearby your brother who’s nut as ever and just after meeting your primary school teacher who still remembers you and ask you if you followed your dream, after you spent the afternoon reading a book you forgot about and that reminds you of your lost passions, is after a day like this that you realize how utterly and impossibly useless your life is and how deeply and strongly you would like to press an imaginary “expel” botton right now.
If everything around you just constantly reminds you of your most intimate and strong failures, of all the love you didn’t give or had, of all the dreams you left behind because you were too busy being sucked by a black hole of desperation, if to all of this you just wake up and you see how a week of flu reduce you, with everyone telling how skinny and horrible you are – maybe not mentioning the horrible part BUT surely with a certain kind of looking upon you that leaves nothing to your doubts, with the doctors telling you this and that and nothing looks really encouraging, if all of this happens and you’re still breathing… well you definetly ask yourself why you had in heritage such a sensitive temperament when, surely, all you need it’s just a door to shut between you and the world.

It would be wonderful and at the same time perfect: a life of absolute nothing with just books and books and books, to live adventure and to read and to build knowledge on knowledge on the only friends you have left… books.
Slowly but at least not “painfully” withering like a flower, because maybe when you were young you were good looking and you were also smart but then time comes and what you have left of the two is a small fraction, each year smaller while memories somehow are growing stronger and brighter, slowly fading away from life because there is nothing in it that at the moment could have even the smallest chance of being interesting… forgetting maybe joy but also forgetting pain…
Well when you went through all this and you also realized that at the end is nothing and you’re making a fuss of it for silly reasons but you still have feelings you’re not able to tame or silence, when you happen to be in this state… trust me, not even music can help you.

Hoping won’t help you anymore. Try something better.
Try to run.





it’s simple, you’re mine and you need me.

29 04 2010

Here I am, on my knees with my orange underwear on. something I am somehow learning to love. Here I am again speaking about what’s happening even if I don’t have any clue about it and more than everything I don’t know where it will lead me.

So, they say, the life of a slave is a life of pain, isn’t it? We already saw how magic and deep the pain can be, we already settled that the ordeal path is not that far from.
What I missed to understand it there are kinds of pain I could never imagine. And one of them is making me sitting here right now writing this short post… the focal point is need. I know I need my Master, I feel it now, deeply. So deeply that it’s a pain, a real pain. When the feeling goes right to the mind a bell sounds and consciousness regain his kingdom and the pain is doubled: the intense pain of that need and the even intense pain of the somehow weirdness of that feeling that comes straight from the conscious mind.
it’s a clash of titans, the need, the willingness to serve and to please, the pleasure of being dominated against the set of rules that we all have stuck inside our head.
it’s indeed a magnificent battle to see. a little less to feel under your own skin. the Ego is powerful and gigantic, while the dark hopes that fight against it are small in comparison but many.

I feel hung. Like the proverbial hunged man I am blind and throw on the verge of something I cannot see or comprend or to a certain extent enjoy. There is something inside me that screams for help and you can hear his voice only when I am not there, only when I am somewhere else. And that something feels and screams in ways I am not used to and I don’t know it’s name.
But it’s there and the pains of that needs it feels all  together quite quite bittersweet, still are pains nonetheless.

I can’t believe, simple as it is. Can’t believe. And again is hard to admit to myself, almost near to impossible to understand. Yes I shall go on for the path is just begun. I can’t say if it’s right or wrong, I’ll find out at the end I guess.

Rescue me, the storm is coming.





On little things like trust

3 10 2009

This week have been pretty interesting. Through training and experiences and also confrontation with other people, I came to realize my place.
The formation of a slave mind, I guess, must be at least difficult.
What I can say happened in my life I didn’t assume it was a very typical submissive dynamic, as it looks like it is.
With this I am not saying that all the subs and all the slave are similar, far from me to think like that… we do share something though, not only the need of obey.
I am very interested in what happens in our mind at a certain point. Like me, right now, that I realized I am what I am – a slave craving for his Master – and looks like other things are loosing their importance somehow. It hasn’t be a sort of epiphany to be honest, it was just very gradual… and the wind of change was an emotional one, when I was angry and sad for someone too distant, feeling his absence like a real pain.
I never had this feeling before and that made me think something was different, something was changed. My crave for worship, my desire for control, were just exposed and took contro. I had to sort out myself to avoid to feel even more pain. It was interesting though, very interesting indeed.
But what made me change my mind and look for this life is of a simple spiritual matter.
So I guess we should define what’s spiritual and what’s not… and here it’s the problem, how to connect BDSM to a spiritual path.
It’s not a problem for me, I can see the connections, it’s a problem to explain maybe. But I’ll try.
A spiritual path is, simply, a very personal experience of something more than the mere physical word. I am not intrinsically saying that there is another world or another plane of existence, for I don’t know that for sure, what I am mainly saying is that this are personal experience of a different type of ones we everyday have. I don’t necessarily believe in God or a certain amount of Gods, I just merely state that our brain can be set to a different pattern somehow and that lead us to see the world in a different way, to even experience it under a completely absurd point of view. Something very similar to what a recreational drug can produce.
I guess we all agree on the fact is a purely biochemical reactions… being endorphins or adrenalines or a cocktail of hormones, it’s a biochemical reaction started by our brain/cortex/whatever since every emotion/reaction/whatever is basically a cocktail of hormones.
That being said, what I felt one day, under a heavy session of flogging, was a sort of ecstasy. I sensed there was something more behind that door.
Ok, we all agree that it’s nice to cum like mad, we all agree that whips are nice, nipple play is wonderful and so on…
But what if that is nothing compared to what can happen when in that state? When the pleasure takes all your body?
They call it subspace and that’s indeed a deep spiritual experience. You’ve never experienced it? Neither I completly, I just sensed it was there but something stopped me before going. I wasn’t ready to let myself go, I wasn’t in the right hands to understand what was happening.
So is that what’s behind the corner? The feeling of ownership growing to be even a feeling of complete possession? The pleasure of pain to the ecstasy of it? I’ll see. I’ll let you know.

In the meanwhile what I have is just music.





12 08 2009

pain is beauty. pain leads where no one wants to go, where anyone is scared to go.
pain is an absence, the absence of horizons, the vast sea of the body unravelled and ready to jump.
as far as I know I’m still nothing and no one in this sea.
but I can see its potential.

this post might be short, but it’s nothing but deeply felt by who’s writing.
for I want to go somewhere and that somewhere is still distant.
for pain will be my companion. I won’t be alone.