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I met Aimee in 1988, I think it was. We worked together at a birth control/abortion clinic. She and I got on very well & we both liked to get high. High, back then, meaning pot. I did enjoy cocaine in those days too, but since neither one of us ever produced any, we would come to Mom's place after work sometimes and smoke a joint or 2 in the backyard by the pool. Mom was completely fine with my friends and I smoking pot, but I knew intuitively ONLY pot. Well ok tobacco & booze, had I wanted, but I did not. Both of us had been single, young, and this had been 3 years before her son Cody was born.
I'm not sure why we never kept in touch, or what happened, just that one day when I went to work, Aimee was no longer working there. Aimee had said it was because she couldn't handle the abortions, but I recall hearing a rumor that she got fired for stealing---a rumor that her mom, my former friend Linda verified. I had been in nursing school back then, which meant for 18 months, I had worked a full time job Mon-Fri, then went to nursing school Fri nights 5p-10p plus Sat & Sun 7a-4:30pm. Mystery solved. Outside of work and school, even at 23, I had no life & that schedule wore my ass out.
That's why I didn't keep in touch with Aimee after she & I were no longer coworkers. Fast forward to Sept 2004, I just about 40 yrs old, living in a 2 story town house, that at the time had been living alone. I had an IV meth habit to replace the pot which I long since stopped, along with cocaine, but more along the lines of what I called a "binge" user. I think I'd been off speed 5 wks, and just gotten a job with Methadone clinic #2, as usual barely managing to hang onto my town house with it's massive rent for me anyway, of $1100/mo by myself. I had had a shitty fucking day at work that day, another humiliating day of training, which I hated. Once I learn my job, I'm the fastest & the best, as long as my heart is into it, that is if I manage to survive the training.
I had thrown away a portable cooler that no longer worked, and coming home I saw a woman going to pick up the cooler I discarded & decided to warn her that she'd best drain the fucking thing of water before putting it into her car unless she was in for a literal "car pool" haha. We ended up talking a while, I knew she was a hard core user, and always feel at home talking to other addicts. This is why I attract them into my life and vice versa because with addicts, I don't have to feel the strain of trying to pretend to "be normal." At least, in the sense of being able to appear employable, and professional for obvious reasons. Still, had she not recognized me and said anything, I'd have never known who she was. "I know you from somewhere. You're name is Tanya, right? We worked together at a birth control clinic." I had worked at 2 birth control clinics, by when she told me her name, instant recognition.
We picked up our friendship, just where we left off some 16 years ealier. From then on, Aimee was in and out of prison, and since we had been neighbors, that's when I met her family. Her Mom Linda, a tweaker like me, her Grandma, Linda's Mom Nana, in her 80's at the time, and Cody, her son who had been 12 when I met him. I liked Linda immediately, and all the addict social hang out friends so long as I remembered to always watch my back, money, and my shit, haha. So while Aimee was in prison a year here or there, the place became a tweaker pad and a local hang out place for me too, after losing my place. Aimee & Linda had seen me go through alot & remained my friends from using, then being clean for 2 years, then back through my relapse, that is until Oct 15th. Sigh.
Long story short, that day was no different from any other hearing Aimee complain about something being stolen. I'd learned to tune it out. Sometimes it was true, others not cause she can't remember where she puts shit, so I wasn't even paying attention, then I hear whining, crying that $238 was missing from Aimee. Next thing I know, Linda keeps repeating over and over only 2 people could have stolen it me or her. I was freaken pissed as hell I'm probably the only person over there that DIDN'T steal, the only one that has a job, always being honest in terms of not ripping people off cause that shit pisses me off. Still, I didn't react nearly the way I would have back in 2005 or 2006---verbally violent big time. They asked me to pick up shit for them when I got mine, I did. Then I went back out to get more shit---that was owed to me since the dealer was short in my order.
I thought it was odd that Linda would be calling me asking me to go back to the house after that, but I thought, ok fine, so I did. At the house, is when the shit hit the fan and Linda just would NOT stop accusing me of stealing so I'm in shock and disbelief. Aimee is crying, she's accusing me too, so I said, "Fuck me. Ok fine we're gonna settle this shit right here, right now! I will NOT be called a goddamned thief." I insisted to Aimee we go through every single article in my purse, paper by paper. Once she agreed her money was not there, I then insisted we're going to empty all my pockets, then off came the shirt, off came the bra, the pants, and all that was on my person was the shit I'd scored for my personal $60 --my weekly maintainance, but that was it.
At this point, Aimee said, "Ok you can put your clothes back on. I'm sorry, T. I believe you already, I'm convinced." Linda on the other hand, did not want to hear, or see my proof, she walked away, but came back and said, I could have put the money in my bank account. I got on my cell phone and they verified no deposits other than what work did every Friday, that's it. Linda said it could show up tomorrow. I said fine I'll keep showing up to prove I DIDN'T FUCKING DEPOSIT A GODDAMNED THING! I insisted Aimee & I go through my car, of course no money, and of course Linda isn't interested. "You're a lousy liar, so I know you're telling the truth. I know how you act," is what Aimee kept saying. Linda was hell bent on accusing me and just as I thought she would, even if I came and proved no deposits were made, she would find some other bullshit excuse. Sure enough, Linda didn't want to hear my proof, and simply said, "You would of left it at home."
LOL. "Of course, Linda. And if I were to tell you to search my goddamned house, then you'll say, I could have left it up my neighbor's ass or stashed it in the gutter." Of course it wasn't completely lost on me that if Linda is so damn broke, she sure as hell was spun WAY too tight the next morning. Where did she all of a sudden get money for 3 grams of speed? That's how much it takes to get her that spun, her habit is 3 times mine even though mine is the needle and hers snorting. I didn't bring this up to Aimee, because she would not and does not want to believe her mom would steal from her. Maybe she didn't, but then why else would she insist upon making such a scene? All I know is that I know for a fact I didn't take the money. Thieves are there all the time. They could have, or maybe they misplaced it and forgot where they put it, I don't really care.
I was deeply, am still a bit hurt and offended, but disbelief more than anything. So, 6 years of friendship with Linda, gone just like that, she fucking turned on me. I'm not officially booted from the house, as Aimee says no I'm still her friend, and not to worry. I'm glad Aimee feels that way, but I certainly will not go back there. Whether Linda took the money herself or she's just so spun and brain dead she's convinced herself I did, in spite of evidence to the contrary, I don't know. I won't go where I'm accused of being a thief, if for no other reason than self preservation. Linda sure fucked off the only real friend out of all the vultures that hang there she ever had. So, it's pretty much a solo gig for me then. No more occasional social life. Kinda sucks.
I'm not sure why we never kept in touch, or what happened, just that one day when I went to work, Aimee was no longer working there. Aimee had said it was because she couldn't handle the abortions, but I recall hearing a rumor that she got fired for stealing---a rumor that her mom, my former friend Linda verified. I had been in nursing school back then, which meant for 18 months, I had worked a full time job Mon-Fri, then went to nursing school Fri nights 5p-10p plus Sat & Sun 7a-4:30pm. Mystery solved. Outside of work and school, even at 23, I had no life & that schedule wore my ass out.
That's why I didn't keep in touch with Aimee after she & I were no longer coworkers. Fast forward to Sept 2004, I just about 40 yrs old, living in a 2 story town house, that at the time had been living alone. I had an IV meth habit to replace the pot which I long since stopped, along with cocaine, but more along the lines of what I called a "binge" user. I think I'd been off speed 5 wks, and just gotten a job with Methadone clinic #2, as usual barely managing to hang onto my town house with it's massive rent for me anyway, of $1100/mo by myself. I had had a shitty fucking day at work that day, another humiliating day of training, which I hated. Once I learn my job, I'm the fastest & the best, as long as my heart is into it, that is if I manage to survive the training.
I had thrown away a portable cooler that no longer worked, and coming home I saw a woman going to pick up the cooler I discarded & decided to warn her that she'd best drain the fucking thing of water before putting it into her car unless she was in for a literal "car pool" haha. We ended up talking a while, I knew she was a hard core user, and always feel at home talking to other addicts. This is why I attract them into my life and vice versa because with addicts, I don't have to feel the strain of trying to pretend to "be normal." At least, in the sense of being able to appear employable, and professional for obvious reasons. Still, had she not recognized me and said anything, I'd have never known who she was. "I know you from somewhere. You're name is Tanya, right? We worked together at a birth control clinic." I had worked at 2 birth control clinics, by when she told me her name, instant recognition.
We picked up our friendship, just where we left off some 16 years ealier. From then on, Aimee was in and out of prison, and since we had been neighbors, that's when I met her family. Her Mom Linda, a tweaker like me, her Grandma, Linda's Mom Nana, in her 80's at the time, and Cody, her son who had been 12 when I met him. I liked Linda immediately, and all the addict social hang out friends so long as I remembered to always watch my back, money, and my shit, haha. So while Aimee was in prison a year here or there, the place became a tweaker pad and a local hang out place for me too, after losing my place. Aimee & Linda had seen me go through alot & remained my friends from using, then being clean for 2 years, then back through my relapse, that is until Oct 15th. Sigh.
Long story short, that day was no different from any other hearing Aimee complain about something being stolen. I'd learned to tune it out. Sometimes it was true, others not cause she can't remember where she puts shit, so I wasn't even paying attention, then I hear whining, crying that $238 was missing from Aimee. Next thing I know, Linda keeps repeating over and over only 2 people could have stolen it me or her. I was freaken pissed as hell I'm probably the only person over there that DIDN'T steal, the only one that has a job, always being honest in terms of not ripping people off cause that shit pisses me off. Still, I didn't react nearly the way I would have back in 2005 or 2006---verbally violent big time. They asked me to pick up shit for them when I got mine, I did. Then I went back out to get more shit---that was owed to me since the dealer was short in my order.
I thought it was odd that Linda would be calling me asking me to go back to the house after that, but I thought, ok fine, so I did. At the house, is when the shit hit the fan and Linda just would NOT stop accusing me of stealing so I'm in shock and disbelief. Aimee is crying, she's accusing me too, so I said, "Fuck me. Ok fine we're gonna settle this shit right here, right now! I will NOT be called a goddamned thief." I insisted to Aimee we go through every single article in my purse, paper by paper. Once she agreed her money was not there, I then insisted we're going to empty all my pockets, then off came the shirt, off came the bra, the pants, and all that was on my person was the shit I'd scored for my personal $60 --my weekly maintainance, but that was it.
At this point, Aimee said, "Ok you can put your clothes back on. I'm sorry, T. I believe you already, I'm convinced." Linda on the other hand, did not want to hear, or see my proof, she walked away, but came back and said, I could have put the money in my bank account. I got on my cell phone and they verified no deposits other than what work did every Friday, that's it. Linda said it could show up tomorrow. I said fine I'll keep showing up to prove I DIDN'T FUCKING DEPOSIT A GODDAMNED THING! I insisted Aimee & I go through my car, of course no money, and of course Linda isn't interested. "You're a lousy liar, so I know you're telling the truth. I know how you act," is what Aimee kept saying. Linda was hell bent on accusing me and just as I thought she would, even if I came and proved no deposits were made, she would find some other bullshit excuse. Sure enough, Linda didn't want to hear my proof, and simply said, "You would of left it at home."
LOL. "Of course, Linda. And if I were to tell you to search my goddamned house, then you'll say, I could have left it up my neighbor's ass or stashed it in the gutter." Of course it wasn't completely lost on me that if Linda is so damn broke, she sure as hell was spun WAY too tight the next morning. Where did she all of a sudden get money for 3 grams of speed? That's how much it takes to get her that spun, her habit is 3 times mine even though mine is the needle and hers snorting. I didn't bring this up to Aimee, because she would not and does not want to believe her mom would steal from her. Maybe she didn't, but then why else would she insist upon making such a scene? All I know is that I know for a fact I didn't take the money. Thieves are there all the time. They could have, or maybe they misplaced it and forgot where they put it, I don't really care.
I was deeply, am still a bit hurt and offended, but disbelief more than anything. So, 6 years of friendship with Linda, gone just like that, she fucking turned on me. I'm not officially booted from the house, as Aimee says no I'm still her friend, and not to worry. I'm glad Aimee feels that way, but I certainly will not go back there. Whether Linda took the money herself or she's just so spun and brain dead she's convinced herself I did, in spite of evidence to the contrary, I don't know. I won't go where I'm accused of being a thief, if for no other reason than self preservation. Linda sure fucked off the only real friend out of all the vultures that hang there she ever had. So, it's pretty much a solo gig for me then. No more occasional social life. Kinda sucks.
To trust someone is to make yourself vulnerable to their human nature.
What does it mean to betray trust?
Is it what's in the heart and the mind?
Is it the actions in real time?
Secrets don't make friends, and they definitely don't make lovers.
Can you fix trust if it breaks or is it like the mirror that you will always see a crack in?
If desire is overwhelming, am I a fool to believe I can keep this up without you fiending to pretend?
Is it healthy to play poker when the deck is stacked against me?
If you dream in phallic fantasy and see your future endlessly stimulating infinite prostates-- for your career and for your happiness, then cigarettes aren't my bane, and I am killing myself quicker than I know.
What does it mean to betray trust?
Is it what's in the heart and the mind?
Is it the actions in real time?
Secrets don't make friends, and they definitely don't make lovers.
Can you fix trust if it breaks or is it like the mirror that you will always see a crack in?
If desire is overwhelming, am I a fool to believe I can keep this up without you fiending to pretend?
Is it healthy to play poker when the deck is stacked against me?
If you dream in phallic fantasy and see your future endlessly stimulating infinite prostates-- for your career and for your happiness, then cigarettes aren't my bane, and I am killing myself quicker than I know.
Here are things I've discovered about a particular branded form of Ritalin (methylphenidate) called Methylin ER. I made this as a post in OD but it was decided that most people don't really care about all of the details.
For backstory: about a month ago I saw a psychiatrist and was prescribed Focalin XR (dexmethylphenidate, about 150% the potency of racemic methylphenidate but with practically identical action), as he suspected the source of my other problems (anxiety, erratic sleep/wake pattern, lack of motivation) may be adult ADD. I really liked the Focalin XR at a dosage of 20mg every morning. I really don't think I have an attention disorder - Focalin does to me what I expect stimulants do to the general population. That being said, it really does seem to help me accomplish things and be more active, which in turn helps with a lot of the problems that prompted me to seek professional help through a counselor and eventually this psychiatrist.
However, Focalin XR is a name brand drug that cost me XX dollars per bottle (60x10mg, a little over one month's supply depending on use) - after insurance did its part. Being a poor college student without a job currently, when I went back to see him three days ago I asked if he could give me some sort of generic racemic equivalent. He prescribed Methylin ER 20mg tablets which ring up at a much nicer X dollars per month supply. I wanted something I could take once per day, which is why he prescribed extended release methylphenidate instead of IR to be taken twice or three times a day. I tried to inquire about the difference in potency between dexmethylphenidate and racemic methylphenidate to see if he could prescribe a higher dose, but I didn't want to sound like a smartass and so I didn't press the issue when he made it clear that he doesn't know very much about the drugs he's prescribing me.
So now I've done some lengthy research about this particular extended release formulation, as well as trying out the medicine, and I'm very disappointed with it. As I mentioned before, 20mg of methylphenidate is weaker than 20mg of dexmethylphenidate, which is very noticeable to me subjectively. Were that the only issue I had with it, I would be particularly bothered, as it is still effective. However, two other things make this drug very frustrating. With Focalin XR, the effect profile on a time scale is bimodal - meaning that part of the beads in the capsule are instant release, and another part of the beads are released after the first peak begins to subside. For me, the duration of the main helpful effects lasted 8 hours, with another 3-4 hours afterwards of coming down to baseline, making it effective for 8-10 hours. That worked out okay for my needs. This Methylin ER is significantly shorter. Several sources say that Methylin ER has a peak at 3 hours and the total duration of action is between 5 and 8 hours, which fits with my subjective experience. This to me is not exactly what I'd call "extended release". I know there are several other options for extended release methylphenidate that last longer (Concerta is one example), but I'm uncertain of their cost.
My final complaint about Methylin ER directly concerns the formulation, and this is probably what is of most interest to the board. With the Focalin XR, there were days when I would take only 10mg in the morning, and there were also days when I slept late into the afternoon, such that taking an XR would keep me up later than I desired. This left me with several extras. On a couple occasions during the afternoon I would open the capsule and crush the beads in a shotglass to a fine powder, before mixing it with a beverage to ingest. This provided a much shorter duration, which was very useful on those occasions. I did not crush the beads to snort, just because I don't like having a nose full of wax/binders/god-knows-what. Eating crushed Focalin was helpful to me on the occasions that I needed an instant release.
So when I got these Methylin tablets, I was hoping that I might be able to crush them if needed to provide a more-instant release (although these are still significantly shorter in action than Focalin XR). I looked online to find that it's not simply a coating to facilitate extended release, but some sort of polymer binding. Without reading too deeply, my impatient DIY side decided that I'd find out exactly what the deal was. So I cut a pill in half and tried my best to crush one half. In the first place, the pill was extremely plastic-y and simply could not be pulverized well. Once I had gotten it down to semi-coarse granules after about five minutes of smashing and grinding, I added some water. And it immediately formed a viscous gel, just like I had read about the (now-old?) "abuse-proof" Oxycontin (not like the very-new Purdue OCs which harden instead of simply gelling). Goddamnit.
I did further reading and indeed, Methylin ER contains hydroxypropyl methylcellulose 2208.
So finally, to get to the main informative "for the record" point of this post,
Methylin ER is unsuitable for snorting, or crushing and eating. It contains a polymer matrix formulation similar to Opana and other opiates that prevents it from being directly water soluble. There are methods using acids like citric acid to break down the polymer, but these take a long time and are generally done by people desperate for a rush (opiate addicts). If you're seriously considering spending a significant amount of time trying to circumvent the extended-release formulation on Ritalin, maybe you need to look at your priorities first. Or find a meth dealer
.
For backstory: about a month ago I saw a psychiatrist and was prescribed Focalin XR (dexmethylphenidate, about 150% the potency of racemic methylphenidate but with practically identical action), as he suspected the source of my other problems (anxiety, erratic sleep/wake pattern, lack of motivation) may be adult ADD. I really liked the Focalin XR at a dosage of 20mg every morning. I really don't think I have an attention disorder - Focalin does to me what I expect stimulants do to the general population. That being said, it really does seem to help me accomplish things and be more active, which in turn helps with a lot of the problems that prompted me to seek professional help through a counselor and eventually this psychiatrist.
However, Focalin XR is a name brand drug that cost me XX dollars per bottle (60x10mg, a little over one month's supply depending on use) - after insurance did its part. Being a poor college student without a job currently, when I went back to see him three days ago I asked if he could give me some sort of generic racemic equivalent. He prescribed Methylin ER 20mg tablets which ring up at a much nicer X dollars per month supply. I wanted something I could take once per day, which is why he prescribed extended release methylphenidate instead of IR to be taken twice or three times a day. I tried to inquire about the difference in potency between dexmethylphenidate and racemic methylphenidate to see if he could prescribe a higher dose, but I didn't want to sound like a smartass and so I didn't press the issue when he made it clear that he doesn't know very much about the drugs he's prescribing me.
So now I've done some lengthy research about this particular extended release formulation, as well as trying out the medicine, and I'm very disappointed with it. As I mentioned before, 20mg of methylphenidate is weaker than 20mg of dexmethylphenidate, which is very noticeable to me subjectively. Were that the only issue I had with it, I would be particularly bothered, as it is still effective. However, two other things make this drug very frustrating. With Focalin XR, the effect profile on a time scale is bimodal - meaning that part of the beads in the capsule are instant release, and another part of the beads are released after the first peak begins to subside. For me, the duration of the main helpful effects lasted 8 hours, with another 3-4 hours afterwards of coming down to baseline, making it effective for 8-10 hours. That worked out okay for my needs. This Methylin ER is significantly shorter. Several sources say that Methylin ER has a peak at 3 hours and the total duration of action is between 5 and 8 hours, which fits with my subjective experience. This to me is not exactly what I'd call "extended release". I know there are several other options for extended release methylphenidate that last longer (Concerta is one example), but I'm uncertain of their cost.
My final complaint about Methylin ER directly concerns the formulation, and this is probably what is of most interest to the board. With the Focalin XR, there were days when I would take only 10mg in the morning, and there were also days when I slept late into the afternoon, such that taking an XR would keep me up later than I desired. This left me with several extras. On a couple occasions during the afternoon I would open the capsule and crush the beads in a shotglass to a fine powder, before mixing it with a beverage to ingest. This provided a much shorter duration, which was very useful on those occasions. I did not crush the beads to snort, just because I don't like having a nose full of wax/binders/god-knows-what. Eating crushed Focalin was helpful to me on the occasions that I needed an instant release.
So when I got these Methylin tablets, I was hoping that I might be able to crush them if needed to provide a more-instant release (although these are still significantly shorter in action than Focalin XR). I looked online to find that it's not simply a coating to facilitate extended release, but some sort of polymer binding. Without reading too deeply, my impatient DIY side decided that I'd find out exactly what the deal was. So I cut a pill in half and tried my best to crush one half. In the first place, the pill was extremely plastic-y and simply could not be pulverized well. Once I had gotten it down to semi-coarse granules after about five minutes of smashing and grinding, I added some water. And it immediately formed a viscous gel, just like I had read about the (now-old?) "abuse-proof" Oxycontin (not like the very-new Purdue OCs which harden instead of simply gelling). Goddamnit.
I did further reading and indeed, Methylin ER contains hydroxypropyl methylcellulose 2208.
So finally, to get to the main informative "for the record" point of this post,
Methylin ER is unsuitable for snorting, or crushing and eating. It contains a polymer matrix formulation similar to Opana and other opiates that prevents it from being directly water soluble. There are methods using acids like citric acid to break down the polymer, but these take a long time and are generally done by people desperate for a rush (opiate addicts). If you're seriously considering spending a significant amount of time trying to circumvent the extended-release formulation on Ritalin, maybe you need to look at your priorities first. Or find a meth dealer
.
Was it karma? I think so.
Was it God? No, just a prick with nothing better to do, but God does work in strange ways.
It's the energy. It's the thoughts that linger in gray space. It's the tip of the iceburg apathy that sinks the ship.
It's ignoring the sickness til the virus spreads to everything you hold dear.
When tragedy strikes, who gets you to come undone?
What makes the temporary inconvenience bearable?
I wished it was me until I realized it never could be.
You let her own your ego and give yourself to ghosts to negate your responsibility.
It feels good to hurt me. It's ecstasy to ruin what you always wanted to.
Was it God? No, just a prick with nothing better to do, but God does work in strange ways.
It's the energy. It's the thoughts that linger in gray space. It's the tip of the iceburg apathy that sinks the ship.
It's ignoring the sickness til the virus spreads to everything you hold dear.
When tragedy strikes, who gets you to come undone?
What makes the temporary inconvenience bearable?
I wished it was me until I realized it never could be.
You let her own your ego and give yourself to ghosts to negate your responsibility.
It feels good to hurt me. It's ecstasy to ruin what you always wanted to.
HERE LIES MY SMILE ,THAT YOU TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
AND HERE LIES MY HEART THAT YOU TRAMPED IN THE GROUND
AND HERE LIES MY BODY ALL MANGLED AND SORE FROM EACH NIGHT NOT SLEEPING BEING SLASHED TO THE CORE
AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST ,
TIS MY SPIRIT YOU SEE
FOR THIS YOU RIPPED OUT SO YOU COULD BE FREE
bY ME [/FONT]
AND HERE LIES MY HEART THAT YOU TRAMPED IN THE GROUND
AND HERE LIES MY BODY ALL MANGLED AND SORE FROM EACH NIGHT NOT SLEEPING BEING SLASHED TO THE CORE
AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST ,
TIS MY SPIRIT YOU SEE
FOR THIS YOU RIPPED OUT SO YOU COULD BE FREE
bY ME [/FONT]
First, some confessions. Feel free to skip.
So here's to hoping that Goose turns out to be a good guy (if he turns out at all - I have not heard back from him, although to be fair he did say he will be working long hours the following week). I'd be happy to keep with him and not find other guys for the same purpose as a second-best thing to a loving relationship.
But even if he did not love me, at least he showed the capacity to understand me far more so that anyone I'd met yet (as far as sexuality goes). He has crystallized in my imagination some very specific qualities I seek in a man: I am very attracted to power, and that does not necessarily mean muscle. Here is a scrawny guy who managed to obliterate me, and it is through his paradoxical nature that he managed to make me rethink my sexuality.
But the key here is that power to me is the expression of strength or influence that is tempered with an equal capacity for understanding or empathy. Very few people seem to be able to wield power as such.
There is a small amount of kind-hearted people who have lots of heart and little strength, and these are wonderful to have in one's life and I might even make love to them because of that, but they don't turn me on at my core.
There are also countless people who may at first appear powerful due to being physically built, for example, but who do not have a heart. Their words and actions quickly betray this and expose their lack of power, at which point their attractiveness begins to steadily decline, sometimes even inverting and turning into something revolting.
I forgot to add here, that this power dynamic seems to be suspiciously qabalistic! Here we have a model where will is executed by oscillating from one side (Chesed, or Mercy) of the tree of life to the other side (Giburah, or Severety).
Goose may not have loved me one bit (I do not know how he felt or feels), but he definitely knew how to express power as I define it - so much so as to prove to me that neither physical appearance nor depth of character are things I need to find a man attractive.
Since we're on the subject, I may as well get into another small and interesting conclusion I came to. There is a tendency in the gay world to describe men as "straight acting" if they do not give themselves off as gay. I am frequently described as such because most people can't tell I'm gay easily. But I do not like this term. It feels very disempowering: to be acceptable, your best hope is to act like a another (straight) man. Being yourself just isn't enough.
Now, while I am not attracted to overtly feminine guys (for the same reason, I suppose, that I am not attracted to girls), I actually don't mind it if a guy is obviously gay. What this guy has shown me is that, as a matter of fact, an obviously-gay guy who is still overtly masculine is actually extremely sexy, far more than a "straight acting" one. There is nothing feminine about Goose, but he immediately comes off as gay. Yet at the same time, he is very confident and radiates with masculinity... and smells like it too (after we finished, he fell asleep, and I just lay beside him smelling his hair. It felt as though he was oozing with male sex-hormones.
All these subtle little things became highlighted for me by this guy's power, and so became apparently in spite his unassuming first-impression.
We'll see how things go, and I'll try to update here for those concerned...
NSFW:
I am very aware of the fact that all is not a rose-garden in my house. There is a very potent self-destructive streak that runs through almost everything I derive worldly pleasure from. If it isn't algolagnia, then it is anaesthesia. And that is just today, long after I stopped the speedballs and other insane risks I took in the past.
This same destructive streak reminds me of the day I lost my virginity: it was the Easter of 2003 I believe, and I was flirting with a very expensive heroin habit. At the time, my self-esteem was so low I was bewildered by the very fact that some random guy who isn't in his 70's actually wanted to fuck me.
Just as with Goose, it didn't take us half an hour of chatting before we decided to go for it. And also the same was how he picked me up (from the very same street, may I add) and we drove off to a distant place. With this guy, we simply wanted to go to a place where we'd be out of public sight, so we drove off to the country and parked in some obscure location. He conveniently "forgot" to bring condoms (and lube...), yet I was more than happy to let him fuck me just like that and, as if to add insult to injury, insisted that he cum inside me.
The three years that followed were miserable. I was too anxiety-laden to bear the idea of having to wait two weeks for test results. I also couldn't get myself to touch anyone out of fear of what might get passed to them. I was lucky that toward the end of that period, there were introduced new tests that give results in 20 seconds. So I finally went and got tested, and to my relief I was clean.
But the point remains that in the heat of the moment, perhaps out of desperation, I took pleasure in the gigantic risk involved with my decisions.
And it did not stop there: there were several encounters during which I found myself being bare-backed by a guy. It seems that because I so intense all the time I give men the impression that I want to be fucked real bad. But at least, on all these occasions I managed to stop them before things went too far.
So it appears that my only way of enjoying loveless sex is by flirting with death. Given that it seems the only other thing that give me joy in life comes in the form of a general anaesthetic, I get the impression that I am probably still suicidal at some unconscious level, even though I no longer think about doing it, and anyway believe that I am too weak to be able to do it on my own.
I do not see any way out of this besides finding someone who is capable of reciprocating the visceral quality of my love. But I am not holding my breath.
One random confession I have to make is that throughout my encounter with goose, I was on a moderate dose of adderall which is the one drug that seems to make me inhumanly (or perhaps very much humanly) horny and of course can lead me to make stupid decisions with false-confidence. I am of course not blaming my risk-taking on it, but rather declaring taking it as just another component to the overall riskiness of the situation. The fact that we smoked weed at his place probably didn't help... although it certainly made me aware that I have a fetish for deepthroating stoners while they toke
This same destructive streak reminds me of the day I lost my virginity: it was the Easter of 2003 I believe, and I was flirting with a very expensive heroin habit. At the time, my self-esteem was so low I was bewildered by the very fact that some random guy who isn't in his 70's actually wanted to fuck me.
Just as with Goose, it didn't take us half an hour of chatting before we decided to go for it. And also the same was how he picked me up (from the very same street, may I add) and we drove off to a distant place. With this guy, we simply wanted to go to a place where we'd be out of public sight, so we drove off to the country and parked in some obscure location. He conveniently "forgot" to bring condoms (and lube...), yet I was more than happy to let him fuck me just like that and, as if to add insult to injury, insisted that he cum inside me.
The three years that followed were miserable. I was too anxiety-laden to bear the idea of having to wait two weeks for test results. I also couldn't get myself to touch anyone out of fear of what might get passed to them. I was lucky that toward the end of that period, there were introduced new tests that give results in 20 seconds. So I finally went and got tested, and to my relief I was clean.
But the point remains that in the heat of the moment, perhaps out of desperation, I took pleasure in the gigantic risk involved with my decisions.
And it did not stop there: there were several encounters during which I found myself being bare-backed by a guy. It seems that because I so intense all the time I give men the impression that I want to be fucked real bad. But at least, on all these occasions I managed to stop them before things went too far.
So it appears that my only way of enjoying loveless sex is by flirting with death. Given that it seems the only other thing that give me joy in life comes in the form of a general anaesthetic, I get the impression that I am probably still suicidal at some unconscious level, even though I no longer think about doing it, and anyway believe that I am too weak to be able to do it on my own.
I do not see any way out of this besides finding someone who is capable of reciprocating the visceral quality of my love. But I am not holding my breath.
One random confession I have to make is that throughout my encounter with goose, I was on a moderate dose of adderall which is the one drug that seems to make me inhumanly (or perhaps very much humanly) horny and of course can lead me to make stupid decisions with false-confidence. I am of course not blaming my risk-taking on it, but rather declaring taking it as just another component to the overall riskiness of the situation. The fact that we smoked weed at his place probably didn't help... although it certainly made me aware that I have a fetish for deepthroating stoners while they toke
So here's to hoping that Goose turns out to be a good guy (if he turns out at all - I have not heard back from him, although to be fair he did say he will be working long hours the following week). I'd be happy to keep with him and not find other guys for the same purpose as a second-best thing to a loving relationship.
But even if he did not love me, at least he showed the capacity to understand me far more so that anyone I'd met yet (as far as sexuality goes). He has crystallized in my imagination some very specific qualities I seek in a man: I am very attracted to power, and that does not necessarily mean muscle. Here is a scrawny guy who managed to obliterate me, and it is through his paradoxical nature that he managed to make me rethink my sexuality.
But the key here is that power to me is the expression of strength or influence that is tempered with an equal capacity for understanding or empathy. Very few people seem to be able to wield power as such.
There is a small amount of kind-hearted people who have lots of heart and little strength, and these are wonderful to have in one's life and I might even make love to them because of that, but they don't turn me on at my core.
There are also countless people who may at first appear powerful due to being physically built, for example, but who do not have a heart. Their words and actions quickly betray this and expose their lack of power, at which point their attractiveness begins to steadily decline, sometimes even inverting and turning into something revolting.
I forgot to add here, that this power dynamic seems to be suspiciously qabalistic! Here we have a model where will is executed by oscillating from one side (Chesed, or Mercy) of the tree of life to the other side (Giburah, or Severety).
Goose may not have loved me one bit (I do not know how he felt or feels), but he definitely knew how to express power as I define it - so much so as to prove to me that neither physical appearance nor depth of character are things I need to find a man attractive.
Since we're on the subject, I may as well get into another small and interesting conclusion I came to. There is a tendency in the gay world to describe men as "straight acting" if they do not give themselves off as gay. I am frequently described as such because most people can't tell I'm gay easily. But I do not like this term. It feels very disempowering: to be acceptable, your best hope is to act like a another (straight) man. Being yourself just isn't enough.
Now, while I am not attracted to overtly feminine guys (for the same reason, I suppose, that I am not attracted to girls), I actually don't mind it if a guy is obviously gay. What this guy has shown me is that, as a matter of fact, an obviously-gay guy who is still overtly masculine is actually extremely sexy, far more than a "straight acting" one. There is nothing feminine about Goose, but he immediately comes off as gay. Yet at the same time, he is very confident and radiates with masculinity... and smells like it too (after we finished, he fell asleep, and I just lay beside him smelling his hair. It felt as though he was oozing with male sex-hormones.
All these subtle little things became highlighted for me by this guy's power, and so became apparently in spite his unassuming first-impression.
We'll see how things go, and I'll try to update here for those concerned...
true story guise
so my lil brother (HS age) has a friend that apparently doesn't have the best home life (he hates his mom, and "society" - his words). i live in indiana, and his grandparents live in georgia
here is the plan he thought up (and implemented): steal mom's money, steal mom's van, load up with supplies, and head to georgia!
unfortunately, he got pulled over in carolina 10 hours from his destination for going too slow on the highway. having some marijuana on his position, he now has four months probation
i lol'd
so my lil brother (HS age) has a friend that apparently doesn't have the best home life (he hates his mom, and "society" - his words). i live in indiana, and his grandparents live in georgia
here is the plan he thought up (and implemented): steal mom's money, steal mom's van, load up with supplies, and head to georgia!
unfortunately, he got pulled over in carolina 10 hours from his destination for going too slow on the highway. having some marijuana on his position, he now has four months probation
i lol'd
Where'd this shit come from? Suddenly I have all these suspicions of others.
Its following the standard pattern. The seed of doubt has been planted and I am snowballing it into some (un)real ridiculous shit.
It started off small with one instance. Now today and especially tonight I have somewhat convinced myself that:
1) The chick I'm exclusively sleeping with has found a piece on the side.
(its weird... I really DON'T think this but I still suspect it)
2) I think the two folks that I have become close with and have been hanging out with are steppin' away
(enough time hasn't passed to validate this)
There are a coupla other things that pop in my head but I try to simply blow them off.
Maybe its just because I am not thinking clearly since I'm getting over that nasty head cold.
Maybe I'm just tired.
I wonder if those other things that have popped in my head are simply seeds for future paranoia?
I dunno. I'm just going to go to bed and see what tomorrow brings.
Its following the standard pattern. The seed of doubt has been planted and I am snowballing it into some (un)real ridiculous shit.
It started off small with one instance. Now today and especially tonight I have somewhat convinced myself that:
1) The chick I'm exclusively sleeping with has found a piece on the side.
(its weird... I really DON'T think this but I still suspect it)
2) I think the two folks that I have become close with and have been hanging out with are steppin' away
(enough time hasn't passed to validate this)
There are a coupla other things that pop in my head but I try to simply blow them off.
Maybe its just because I am not thinking clearly since I'm getting over that nasty head cold.
Maybe I'm just tired.
I wonder if those other things that have popped in my head are simply seeds for future paranoia?
I dunno. I'm just going to go to bed and see what tomorrow brings.
(Continued from previous entry)
"Why are you laughing?" he inquired calmly. I thought about it, and could only say that I did not really know. I double-checked myself again, just like I did when we were in the car. Here I was with a stoner who calls himself "Goose" who managed to single-handedly, without using any aid, to conquer my body and mind and subjugate them to his will and whim, and was now holding me in such a position of weakness because he simply can. This was as real as it was ridiculous; it was happening. And I told him how I felt.
This continued for a while, and I felt such an altered state of mind (toke of cannabis notwithstanding). I felt as though all social norms have broken down, and that the only rules that exist are the rules that he made. I genuinely and sincerely felt that I can do anything I wanted so long as it was ok by his rules and his rules only. He confirmed this by repeating that he makes all the rules and that I'm fucked if I don't follow them. It occurred to me that perhaps he is psychic, which at the time was plausible given his apparently superhuman strength. Whimsical as these thoughts may be, the go to show just how deep into surrender unto his will I have gone, and just how believable this power was. It was as if for these couple of hours I had become a convert to a new religion whose deity was now in total control of my pain and pleasure.
I believe that after that, repeating that I am to go by his orders, he simply let me go. And the difference was clear: I have been broken and am now completely at his command. He then proceeded into yet another ranting soapbox about how stupid people are, which he managed to get into through the conversation we had following his question about my laughter, teasingly pausing every now and then and interjecting with a tangential story and the odd silly fact that I found myself laughing hysterically about, but this time I wasn't restrained: I had to lie down and listen, because this seemed to be what he wanted and he didn't command me yet to do anything else. This lasted for the duration of a cigarette which he smoked while talking, now with his hands free.
He was finally done, and finally ordered me to suck his cock. I felt ecstatic, as though I got the reward I'd been so patiently waiting for all that time. I do not think I had ever enjoyed every single moment of sucking a dick as I have then. It didn't take him long for the moaning to turn into screaming, and I knew something big was going to happen. And indeed, he pulled me by the hair to his belly and placed my mouth directly under his dick, and proceeded to spray a most gorgeous creamy load into my mouth, which tasted better than any other that I had tasted.
After that I tried to coax him into trying to cum again but he was clearly exhausted. After much discussion (he was blown away by the fact that we were going at it for at least four hours and that he came three times yet I wanted more...), he finally asked me to let him take a map and not to be afraid to wake him up and see if he'd rested. I ended up patiently waiting beside him as he drifted into deep sleep. I couldn't get myself to wake him up as the hours passed, but I also couldn't get myself to sleep in all the excitement, and found myself waiting until late in the next morning when he woke up to the alarm and drove me back home. He was obviously still very burnt up as he still resisted any implication of going at it again that day. It appears that I, too, was very burnt up (or shocked, probably both) that I felt completely brain-dead on the way home.
But despite all this, in the end, I can easily say that this was the most satisfying sex I'd ever had. I am still completely bewildered that I actually found this formerly-theoretical man who actually knew how to utterly dominate me simply by being himself and using his bare hands.
He did drop several references about "next time" on the drive back, which definitely has me sizzling in excitement as I write this. I really hope this works out... and doesn't turn into another instance of Lucky (see entry from a year ago), who managed to shatter my heart enough to turn me away from humanity for a good part of the following year.
But anyway, I do hope I get to learn more about this "Goose" who changed my life soon, as I know very little from our conversations which did not involve him endlessly ranting, but I doubt I will as I think he uses obscurity as one of the tools in his arsenal of power...
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!
"Why are you laughing?" he inquired calmly. I thought about it, and could only say that I did not really know. I double-checked myself again, just like I did when we were in the car. Here I was with a stoner who calls himself "Goose" who managed to single-handedly, without using any aid, to conquer my body and mind and subjugate them to his will and whim, and was now holding me in such a position of weakness because he simply can. This was as real as it was ridiculous; it was happening. And I told him how I felt.
This continued for a while, and I felt such an altered state of mind (toke of cannabis notwithstanding). I felt as though all social norms have broken down, and that the only rules that exist are the rules that he made. I genuinely and sincerely felt that I can do anything I wanted so long as it was ok by his rules and his rules only. He confirmed this by repeating that he makes all the rules and that I'm fucked if I don't follow them. It occurred to me that perhaps he is psychic, which at the time was plausible given his apparently superhuman strength. Whimsical as these thoughts may be, the go to show just how deep into surrender unto his will I have gone, and just how believable this power was. It was as if for these couple of hours I had become a convert to a new religion whose deity was now in total control of my pain and pleasure.
I believe that after that, repeating that I am to go by his orders, he simply let me go. And the difference was clear: I have been broken and am now completely at his command. He then proceeded into yet another ranting soapbox about how stupid people are, which he managed to get into through the conversation we had following his question about my laughter, teasingly pausing every now and then and interjecting with a tangential story and the odd silly fact that I found myself laughing hysterically about, but this time I wasn't restrained: I had to lie down and listen, because this seemed to be what he wanted and he didn't command me yet to do anything else. This lasted for the duration of a cigarette which he smoked while talking, now with his hands free.
He was finally done, and finally ordered me to suck his cock. I felt ecstatic, as though I got the reward I'd been so patiently waiting for all that time. I do not think I had ever enjoyed every single moment of sucking a dick as I have then. It didn't take him long for the moaning to turn into screaming, and I knew something big was going to happen. And indeed, he pulled me by the hair to his belly and placed my mouth directly under his dick, and proceeded to spray a most gorgeous creamy load into my mouth, which tasted better than any other that I had tasted.
After that I tried to coax him into trying to cum again but he was clearly exhausted. After much discussion (he was blown away by the fact that we were going at it for at least four hours and that he came three times yet I wanted more...), he finally asked me to let him take a map and not to be afraid to wake him up and see if he'd rested. I ended up patiently waiting beside him as he drifted into deep sleep. I couldn't get myself to wake him up as the hours passed, but I also couldn't get myself to sleep in all the excitement, and found myself waiting until late in the next morning when he woke up to the alarm and drove me back home. He was obviously still very burnt up as he still resisted any implication of going at it again that day. It appears that I, too, was very burnt up (or shocked, probably both) that I felt completely brain-dead on the way home.
But despite all this, in the end, I can easily say that this was the most satisfying sex I'd ever had. I am still completely bewildered that I actually found this formerly-theoretical man who actually knew how to utterly dominate me simply by being himself and using his bare hands.
He did drop several references about "next time" on the drive back, which definitely has me sizzling in excitement as I write this. I really hope this works out... and doesn't turn into another instance of Lucky (see entry from a year ago), who managed to shatter my heart enough to turn me away from humanity for a good part of the following year.
But anyway, I do hope I get to learn more about this "Goose" who changed my life soon, as I know very little from our conversations which did not involve him endlessly ranting, but I doubt I will as I think he uses obscurity as one of the tools in his arsenal of power...
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!
So I've been clean for 19 days but my apartment still looks like a junkies den. Clothes are scattered all over, there is dust, dirt and trash strewn about and then... there are those fucking flies.
When my dog died on 07/18/10 I was hardcore in my addiction. After his passing, I entered a fog of 'nothingness' and began using even harder than previously. I neglected everything but the get high.
A horrible stench pervaded the air at my place a couple of days after his death.
Then came the flies... HUNDREDS (maybe even a thousand) of them. They gravitated to the lights and windows and I did nothing but accept them and the stench who's source is still undetermined.
After a few days more, I could no longer take those fucking flies and grabbed a bottle of Raid Flying Insect killer. I sprayed and sprayed.
I can still hear the buzzing of the multitudes caught in their death throes. It was loud and was exponentially louder due to the quantity of flies dying at once.
There were so fucking many dead flies on my windowsills, floor, nightstand and kitchen floor. After a few days I vacuumed most of them up.
Many still remain.
Why am I choosing to live in filth when I am clean?
Where is the motivation?
I AM lazy but past experience has shown that when I am clean from drugs, my living environment is VERY fucking organized, sterile and clean.
Besides the flies I cannot bring myself to pick up my dog's toys. Its painful. He LOVED toys and they are strewn on the floor randomly. There is one place under the dining room table where he would place them and I just can not bring myself to disturb them.
I'm not proud of my unnecessarily disgusting living environment and I know people will judge me as a scum bag. I know better though. There is something beyond laziness that is preventing me from cleaning this mess.
Yes, the vast majority of those flies are gone but some still remain.
Judge me as you will. I need to remember this disgusting shit so I can figure out my patterns in the future if I choose to embrace the junkie lifestyle again.
When my dog died on 07/18/10 I was hardcore in my addiction. After his passing, I entered a fog of 'nothingness' and began using even harder than previously. I neglected everything but the get high.
A horrible stench pervaded the air at my place a couple of days after his death.
Then came the flies... HUNDREDS (maybe even a thousand) of them. They gravitated to the lights and windows and I did nothing but accept them and the stench who's source is still undetermined.
After a few days more, I could no longer take those fucking flies and grabbed a bottle of Raid Flying Insect killer. I sprayed and sprayed.
I can still hear the buzzing of the multitudes caught in their death throes. It was loud and was exponentially louder due to the quantity of flies dying at once.
There were so fucking many dead flies on my windowsills, floor, nightstand and kitchen floor. After a few days I vacuumed most of them up.
Many still remain.
Why am I choosing to live in filth when I am clean?
Where is the motivation?
I AM lazy but past experience has shown that when I am clean from drugs, my living environment is VERY fucking organized, sterile and clean.
Besides the flies I cannot bring myself to pick up my dog's toys. Its painful. He LOVED toys and they are strewn on the floor randomly. There is one place under the dining room table where he would place them and I just can not bring myself to disturb them.
I'm not proud of my unnecessarily disgusting living environment and I know people will judge me as a scum bag. I know better though. There is something beyond laziness that is preventing me from cleaning this mess.
Yes, the vast majority of those flies are gone but some still remain.
Judge me as you will. I need to remember this disgusting shit so I can figure out my patterns in the future if I choose to embrace the junkie lifestyle again.
NSFW:
NSFW:
Spent two hours last night writing my first blog and was tired that I hit some key that wiped everything out. So here I start all over.
I have been back in my home town for two nights and three days. I was very thankful last night for somewhere safe, drug and hassle-free to stay. See the night before a "friend" said I could stay at his place (which is filthy, unsafe and not drug free) but had changed his mind after he became intoxicated. I was told somewhere around 2 am that he changed his mind. So after wandering around town I returned to his home only to find him wanting me to join him in bed. Wasn't much surprised.
To start at the beginging of tale will take us to 08/20/09. I did a 2 bag shot of D (heroin), and had a bad reaction. My throat closed and I couldn't speak. I had chest pains and started sweating profusely. My ex at the time was to cop a large amount of crack and coke out of town so he didn't want to call anyone (911) or take me anywhere (hospital) because it would have f'd with his coping. He did end up staying, but left me laying in my room for 17 hours. He sent a friend to cop for him. I am fairly new to D and had thought I had shot some bleach with it. The next day I was at my brother's and sister-in-law's house and again I did a shot of the same D and had the same symptoms. They called 911. Tried to explain to the ambulance techs that I did not overdose, that I must have had a reaction to something it was cut with. But again, I had trouble speaking. They administered naracane (not sure of spelling), not once, but twice. AHHHH! By doing that it took what little bit of comfort I had away! I was discharged and brother and wife took me back to their house. My ex could not show his face anywhere because police respond to overdoses and he is wanted. My sister-in-law said I was to either go into rehab and get help or family was to disown me. her name is Colleen and we were friends before family for about 20 years, but I was soon to find out she wasn't the friend I thought she was. She had called all of my family, most were on vacation at the time. There was no reason to upset my parents. She arranged for me to enter rehab that Monday with the understanding that everything would be taken care of. I lost my home on the 21st because my ex failed to tell me that he hadn't paid the mortgage in some time. He had been smoking up the money. So Colleen said I could stay with them upon my return from rehab until I got on my feet. But after rehab and staying with OD for a couple weeks we made the trip home and during the ride I recieved a call from Colleen stating that there was a change of plans, they were having marital problems and I couldn't stay there. She knew I had no other options. Spoke to my family and they didn't offer for me to stay with them. I was blown away. Devasted. I thought we were close. I had always taken care of them. Paid there bills, took care of problems their animals etc. It's deep but I will not get into it. So now what. I was so embarassed. OD drove two hours + and had really nowhere to drop me. I've always had my shit together. This was a first. Anyway thats what caused me to pop that benzo and drink that beer. OD WAS NOT RESPONSIBLE!!! I was. I chose to f ck up. I reverted to old thought patterns and behaviors. So now my clean time starts all over. I can't explain my family's reasons for not offering. Maybe they think I'll figure it out. Maybe they don't realize that I really don't have anywhere to go. I'm too proud to ask. I don't feel I should have to. I've been taking care of myself for a very long time. Long before a child should have. My dad is an alcoholic. A somewhat functional one now after 40 some years. I took care of my family (5 bros an 1 sis) since I was 8. So that's why I'm confused by their not returning the favor. I can't let that get in my head. They are who they are and I can't change it. This is no longer my "hometown" or the family I thought they were. I have nothing but my children and my two days of clean time. Time to start all over somewhere else. Where and how. Not quite sure. Would like to hit a meeting tonight. Will be my first here.
I have been back in my home town for two nights and three days. I was very thankful last night for somewhere safe, drug and hassle-free to stay. See the night before a "friend" said I could stay at his place (which is filthy, unsafe and not drug free) but had changed his mind after he became intoxicated. I was told somewhere around 2 am that he changed his mind. So after wandering around town I returned to his home only to find him wanting me to join him in bed. Wasn't much surprised.
To start at the beginging of tale will take us to 08/20/09. I did a 2 bag shot of D (heroin), and had a bad reaction. My throat closed and I couldn't speak. I had chest pains and started sweating profusely. My ex at the time was to cop a large amount of crack and coke out of town so he didn't want to call anyone (911) or take me anywhere (hospital) because it would have f'd with his coping. He did end up staying, but left me laying in my room for 17 hours. He sent a friend to cop for him. I am fairly new to D and had thought I had shot some bleach with it. The next day I was at my brother's and sister-in-law's house and again I did a shot of the same D and had the same symptoms. They called 911. Tried to explain to the ambulance techs that I did not overdose, that I must have had a reaction to something it was cut with. But again, I had trouble speaking. They administered naracane (not sure of spelling), not once, but twice. AHHHH! By doing that it took what little bit of comfort I had away! I was discharged and brother and wife took me back to their house. My ex could not show his face anywhere because police respond to overdoses and he is wanted. My sister-in-law said I was to either go into rehab and get help or family was to disown me. her name is Colleen and we were friends before family for about 20 years, but I was soon to find out she wasn't the friend I thought she was. She had called all of my family, most were on vacation at the time. There was no reason to upset my parents. She arranged for me to enter rehab that Monday with the understanding that everything would be taken care of. I lost my home on the 21st because my ex failed to tell me that he hadn't paid the mortgage in some time. He had been smoking up the money. So Colleen said I could stay with them upon my return from rehab until I got on my feet. But after rehab and staying with OD for a couple weeks we made the trip home and during the ride I recieved a call from Colleen stating that there was a change of plans, they were having marital problems and I couldn't stay there. She knew I had no other options. Spoke to my family and they didn't offer for me to stay with them. I was blown away. Devasted. I thought we were close. I had always taken care of them. Paid there bills, took care of problems their animals etc. It's deep but I will not get into it. So now what. I was so embarassed. OD drove two hours + and had really nowhere to drop me. I've always had my shit together. This was a first. Anyway thats what caused me to pop that benzo and drink that beer. OD WAS NOT RESPONSIBLE!!! I was. I chose to f ck up. I reverted to old thought patterns and behaviors. So now my clean time starts all over. I can't explain my family's reasons for not offering. Maybe they think I'll figure it out. Maybe they don't realize that I really don't have anywhere to go. I'm too proud to ask. I don't feel I should have to. I've been taking care of myself for a very long time. Long before a child should have. My dad is an alcoholic. A somewhat functional one now after 40 some years. I took care of my family (5 bros an 1 sis) since I was 8. So that's why I'm confused by their not returning the favor. I can't let that get in my head. They are who they are and I can't change it. This is no longer my "hometown" or the family I thought they were. I have nothing but my children and my two days of clean time. Time to start all over somewhere else. Where and how. Not quite sure. Would like to hit a meeting tonight. Will be my first here.
Your decisions are rooted in what your body thinks it needs to do.
Systems evolve to fit the system around them, and in them.
It doesn’t take an infinite number of monkeys or typewriters. It only takes a few thousand monkeys that survive.
Nature expects a high failure rate.
Systems evolve to fit the system around them, and in them.
It doesn’t take an infinite number of monkeys or typewriters. It only takes a few thousand monkeys that survive.
Nature expects a high failure rate.
New Years Eve
Thanksgiving Eve
maybe one before?
Last time: Oct 12
Before that: Sept 17-19
Before that: Aug 6-8
Thanksgiving Eve
maybe one before?
Last time: Oct 12
Before that: Sept 17-19
Before that: Aug 6-8
Most of the time when I cook I like to pretend I'm on a cooking show and I talk to my imaginary audience. My cat just looks at me funny when I do it. Does anyone else do this?
Right now I'm stir frying squash, zucchini, green peppers, garlic, and tomatoes. All garden fresh. YUM!
Right now I'm stir frying squash, zucchini, green peppers, garlic, and tomatoes. All garden fresh. YUM!
post on other drugs: help havent pissed in 7hrs. made me crave a hit in the worst way. it been 6 or 7 weeks since i've had any. thought about it alot. damn near every day.
I sense good things on the horizon but I don't want to jinx it.
I used to work at a very popular/busy family owned pizza shop for about 10 years back in the day. After that I worked for one of my former co-workers that opened his own shop.
This former co-worker is buying the original shop and is bringing me on board as staff. The place has gone down hill and its time to get it fixed and lucrative again.
This works for me because I really don't want the stress of learning a new job. Yeah, I have IT experience but I've been out of the game for a while. My rustiness makes me less of a candidate compared to others and I would need to work extra extra hard to get back up to speed in the computer game.
The pizza arena is something I know well and am good at and it pays very well in the circle I run with.
This will give me the opportunity to go back to school as well. I only have 32 more credits to go for an Associates in Human Services (Drug and Alcohol option) and I would like to re-take the classes that I dropped out of the last time around due to my habit.
I know I can increase revenue there. Check this out... there is a huge hispanic population in my area and no one is targeting them for business. I'm going to suggest having menus made in Spanish and bulk mailing them out. To accomodate this we should hire at least two bi-lingual folks to run the registers, phones and delivery dispatch. i think if someone is comfortable with ordering in their native language, they will be more likely to make it their regular spot.
We'll see what happens...
I used to work at a very popular/busy family owned pizza shop for about 10 years back in the day. After that I worked for one of my former co-workers that opened his own shop.
This former co-worker is buying the original shop and is bringing me on board as staff. The place has gone down hill and its time to get it fixed and lucrative again.
This works for me because I really don't want the stress of learning a new job. Yeah, I have IT experience but I've been out of the game for a while. My rustiness makes me less of a candidate compared to others and I would need to work extra extra hard to get back up to speed in the computer game.
The pizza arena is something I know well and am good at and it pays very well in the circle I run with.
This will give me the opportunity to go back to school as well. I only have 32 more credits to go for an Associates in Human Services (Drug and Alcohol option) and I would like to re-take the classes that I dropped out of the last time around due to my habit.
I know I can increase revenue there. Check this out... there is a huge hispanic population in my area and no one is targeting them for business. I'm going to suggest having menus made in Spanish and bulk mailing them out. To accomodate this we should hire at least two bi-lingual folks to run the registers, phones and delivery dispatch. i think if someone is comfortable with ordering in their native language, they will be more likely to make it their regular spot.
We'll see what happens...
Okay, so yeah it has been about 5 years since I have last posted...Crazy shit right? My first blog post is a short biography(of misery) that I wrote on a coke binge during 8th grade. Since then, my life has been a roller coaster. This portion of my story is going to be from the end of 8th grade to the end of highschool. If you are just reading this for the first time, please read my 1st blog entry first.
So at the end of my last story I was a strung out fiend in 8th grade at an all boys catholic highschool. All night coke binges continuing into the school days were not uncommon during that year. Somehow by the age of 14/15 I became addicted to drugs. Everyone else grew up and moved on, and I was stuck.
During the second semester of 8th grade(and 5/6 months into drug counseling), I decided that this life style is obviously not working. I got clean of all drugs, got put onto anti depressants, and finished 8th grade. I decided to return to the small private school I had gone to my whole life besides 8th grade. The thought of getting a new start at highschool and leaving my past behind was amazing. I finished drug counseling after 9 months total, clean and ready for highschool. My relationship with my parents increased and I felt like I was okay again, like things were gonna work out.
I dropped the girlfriend I I had been dating on and off since 6th grade. I also had last my virginity to her(and her likewise) a month prior. We did a lot of drugs together and had a rough past, so leaving her was necessary to move on. I dumped her a few days before highschool, she went insane(almost suicidal) over it, and I moved on.
Highschool. I come back to the school I went to for almost my whole life, and felt amazing. Everyone had the "popular kid who parties a lot" idea of me. During the 8th grade year, I was known as the crazy drug fiend to everyone, and was an outcast. This was the best feeling in the world. On one of the first days of school, I meet a new freshman, Sarah. She was the best looking girl in our class, and was overall everything a guy looked for in a girl. We flirted, went on a few dates, and then I asked her out. My life seemed complete. Hottest girl in the school, popular, and healthy. I was ecstatic both in and out of school, just high on life really.
After a month of dating me, she broke up with me. It tore me apart. I downed a quarter of a handle of rum and cried myself to sleep. Most relationships that lasted a month wouldn't do that to anyone. This was different. I don't think that I loved her by any means. Looking back, Ive realized something. I loved the thought of being with her. Being wanted by someone beautiful was the greatest feeling. I wanted to be "that guy", the coolest kid who gets the hottest girls.
A few weeks later. Most of our school is at a fall dance at our school. It sucks, the fire alarm goes off, everyone wants to leave. My parents were out of town, I lived across the street in a mansion. I yell party, the whole school comes and I open my parents' liquor cabinet to everyone. Half the senior class was at my house, the hottest senior girl asks me if i want to hook up, and the party is bangin. It felt awesome, I thought the rest of highschool was going to be like this.
I get good grades throughout the year. I become great friends with everyone at the school again. I date two or three more girls by the end of freshman year. I play lacrosse, I was out of shape and didnt end up starting much. On the team, I meet Corey and Collin, two juniors. Corey and Collin were two guys I looked up to so much at my school. I chill with them through other people a few times during 2nd semester of freshman year, and somehow they liked me and we all became best friends.
I once again, felt awesome. I was playing poker weekly with all the juniors and seniors. I was on the lacrosse team and was liked by most. I was a freshman with two junior best friends and a few senior friends. This was probably the happiest part of my life. I felt like I ran the fucking school. I threw the most parties, cracked the most jokes, had the most older friends, hooked up with the hottest girls. That is all I wanted to be. Besides the fact that Collin and Corey were juniors(Although the age difference is really just 6-12 months), being friends with them felt different. I felt a sense of brotherhood, we all would have eachothers backs no matter what. We showed up at every party together, and if we werent at a party we were just together. God, if I only knew where all three of us would end up today and what happened in between.
I finish off freshman year with good grades and without heavy drug use. I dated several girls, had a good first varsity lacrosse season, and good friends. By the end of freshman year, Corey randomly one day decides he wants to buy a quarter of bud from our friend. At this point I hadn't bought bud or drugs in a while, I was clean and had moved on in life. All three of us end up buying bud. We end up smoking pretty often, usually 3 or 4 times a week. We all love smoking, and ended up smoking everyday together.
So at the end of my last story I was a strung out fiend in 8th grade at an all boys catholic highschool. All night coke binges continuing into the school days were not uncommon during that year. Somehow by the age of 14/15 I became addicted to drugs. Everyone else grew up and moved on, and I was stuck.
During the second semester of 8th grade(and 5/6 months into drug counseling), I decided that this life style is obviously not working. I got clean of all drugs, got put onto anti depressants, and finished 8th grade. I decided to return to the small private school I had gone to my whole life besides 8th grade. The thought of getting a new start at highschool and leaving my past behind was amazing. I finished drug counseling after 9 months total, clean and ready for highschool. My relationship with my parents increased and I felt like I was okay again, like things were gonna work out.
I dropped the girlfriend I I had been dating on and off since 6th grade. I also had last my virginity to her(and her likewise) a month prior. We did a lot of drugs together and had a rough past, so leaving her was necessary to move on. I dumped her a few days before highschool, she went insane(almost suicidal) over it, and I moved on.
Highschool. I come back to the school I went to for almost my whole life, and felt amazing. Everyone had the "popular kid who parties a lot" idea of me. During the 8th grade year, I was known as the crazy drug fiend to everyone, and was an outcast. This was the best feeling in the world. On one of the first days of school, I meet a new freshman, Sarah. She was the best looking girl in our class, and was overall everything a guy looked for in a girl. We flirted, went on a few dates, and then I asked her out. My life seemed complete. Hottest girl in the school, popular, and healthy. I was ecstatic both in and out of school, just high on life really.
After a month of dating me, she broke up with me. It tore me apart. I downed a quarter of a handle of rum and cried myself to sleep. Most relationships that lasted a month wouldn't do that to anyone. This was different. I don't think that I loved her by any means. Looking back, Ive realized something. I loved the thought of being with her. Being wanted by someone beautiful was the greatest feeling. I wanted to be "that guy", the coolest kid who gets the hottest girls.
A few weeks later. Most of our school is at a fall dance at our school. It sucks, the fire alarm goes off, everyone wants to leave. My parents were out of town, I lived across the street in a mansion. I yell party, the whole school comes and I open my parents' liquor cabinet to everyone. Half the senior class was at my house, the hottest senior girl asks me if i want to hook up, and the party is bangin. It felt awesome, I thought the rest of highschool was going to be like this.
I get good grades throughout the year. I become great friends with everyone at the school again. I date two or three more girls by the end of freshman year. I play lacrosse, I was out of shape and didnt end up starting much. On the team, I meet Corey and Collin, two juniors. Corey and Collin were two guys I looked up to so much at my school. I chill with them through other people a few times during 2nd semester of freshman year, and somehow they liked me and we all became best friends.
I once again, felt awesome. I was playing poker weekly with all the juniors and seniors. I was on the lacrosse team and was liked by most. I was a freshman with two junior best friends and a few senior friends. This was probably the happiest part of my life. I felt like I ran the fucking school. I threw the most parties, cracked the most jokes, had the most older friends, hooked up with the hottest girls. That is all I wanted to be. Besides the fact that Collin and Corey were juniors(Although the age difference is really just 6-12 months), being friends with them felt different. I felt a sense of brotherhood, we all would have eachothers backs no matter what. We showed up at every party together, and if we werent at a party we were just together. God, if I only knew where all three of us would end up today and what happened in between.
I finish off freshman year with good grades and without heavy drug use. I dated several girls, had a good first varsity lacrosse season, and good friends. By the end of freshman year, Corey randomly one day decides he wants to buy a quarter of bud from our friend. At this point I hadn't bought bud or drugs in a while, I was clean and had moved on in life. All three of us end up buying bud. We end up smoking pretty often, usually 3 or 4 times a week. We all love smoking, and ended up smoking everyday together.
Why do I feel this way?
Distorted and Confused
My heart lies inside my chest
Broken and Abused
The world has nothing left in it
For it died when my heart was torn
There used to be a purpose
But now there's none to live one for
Distorted and Confused
My heart lies inside my chest
Broken and Abused
The world has nothing left in it
For it died when my heart was torn
There used to be a purpose
But now there's none to live one for
You say our love is strong
You say it will never die
I say most things don't last that long
But I'm willing to try
You say I'm wrong to think twice
That our love is Truer than Fate
I say "Blind Faith has a price
Prepare yourself before it's too late"
You say we'll always be together
Nothing could bring us under
I say few things last forever
There's always room for a blunder
You say there could be no mistake
We are among the truly blessed
I say it's a chance i'll take..
But I'm ready for the test
You say it's too perfect to end
Nothing this good could ever hault
I say there's no reason to pretend
This perfection is our biggest fault
You say you'll never leave me
You swear our love is undying
I say shit happens constantly and
One day I'll be all alone and crying
You say you'll be with me always
And never leave my side
I say I'm counting the days but
I wouldn't have missed the ride
You say till death do us part
You promise and you vow
I say your bound to break my heart
But I'm glad we're together now
You say you don't want anyone else
There's no reason for you to go
I say I'm protecting myself from a
Future I already know
You say it will never die
I say most things don't last that long
But I'm willing to try
You say I'm wrong to think twice
That our love is Truer than Fate
I say "Blind Faith has a price
Prepare yourself before it's too late"
You say we'll always be together
Nothing could bring us under
I say few things last forever
There's always room for a blunder
You say there could be no mistake
We are among the truly blessed
I say it's a chance i'll take..
But I'm ready for the test
You say it's too perfect to end
Nothing this good could ever hault
I say there's no reason to pretend
This perfection is our biggest fault
You say you'll never leave me
You swear our love is undying
I say shit happens constantly and
One day I'll be all alone and crying
You say you'll be with me always
And never leave my side
I say I'm counting the days but
I wouldn't have missed the ride
You say till death do us part
You promise and you vow
I say your bound to break my heart
But I'm glad we're together now
You say you don't want anyone else
There's no reason for you to go
I say I'm protecting myself from a
Future I already know
This life that I lead
and the lessons I've learned
I think about this
As I shoot and get numb
Never Again
This way will i turn
No Longer
Can I fight the yearn
What am I doing
This is not me
I know so much better
I long to be free
Tomorrow I'll quit
I will just be strong
I know I can do it
It wont take that long
I wake to first thoughts
The craving wont go
I caved in a little
I fucked up..I know
A little a little
To then alot and alot
Why am i doing this
Why can't I stop
Give me a new drug
Or a different pill
Then I can stop it
I know that I will
Life is so short
But my days are so long
Why am i still doing this
When I know that it's wrong
I'll cut off my fingers
And all of my toes
Then I can't touch it
Or walk where it goes
Maybe then
My mind will think
And my eyes will see
Death seems the only way
To set my soul free
and the lessons I've learned
I think about this
As I shoot and get numb
Never Again
This way will i turn
No Longer
Can I fight the yearn
What am I doing
This is not me
I know so much better
I long to be free
Tomorrow I'll quit
I will just be strong
I know I can do it
It wont take that long
I wake to first thoughts
The craving wont go
I caved in a little
I fucked up..I know
A little a little
To then alot and alot
Why am i doing this
Why can't I stop
Give me a new drug
Or a different pill
Then I can stop it
I know that I will
Life is so short
But my days are so long
Why am i still doing this
When I know that it's wrong
I'll cut off my fingers
And all of my toes
Then I can't touch it
Or walk where it goes
Maybe then
My mind will think
And my eyes will see
Death seems the only way
To set my soul free
When the blood starts filling my needle
That's by far my most favorite part
Because I know in seconds
I will feel his rush
And my beloved Mr.Roxy high is about to start
The relaxation is nothing but unexplainable
Every part of my body Tingles in delight
I wish I could keep that feeling forever
Of when me and my Roxy first unite
I can't explain it too well if you've never fealt it
Even the best orgasm
Can't compare at all
He gives me the painlessness of heaven
But the higher I go up
The harder I fall
Although the feeling is so blissful when I am with him
Roxy has turned me into a monster
When I'm craving him more
I rob and steal and do things
I've never done before
I became his whore
And the object of his game
Is looking to score
Those few hours of happiness
Have caused me years of hell
If you haven't met him
I recommend you never do
He has destroyed my body,mind and soul
I've been engaged to him
For 10 years of my life
The only way to leave him
Is to DIE as his WIFE
It's doom alone that counts.
I like to curb the odds on failure. I imagine that's what xtcxtc did. You don't have to win. You just have to not be last.
I should lay the favorite. I'm a bad gambler because I think I'm smarter than I am.
I wish I could see the odds of my own life. I'm a fool to try.
I like to curb the odds on failure. I imagine that's what xtcxtc did. You don't have to win. You just have to not be last.
I should lay the favorite. I'm a bad gambler because I think I'm smarter than I am.
I wish I could see the odds of my own life. I'm a fool to try.
(Continued from previous entry)
---
(...)
[Note: About an hour after we reached his place and started playing around]
Suddenly, I found myself twisted on the bed with my back to him, his legs bent and locked around mine, restricting their movement, and his arms pinning mine down beside him on the bed and stretching them above my head so I was uncomfortably contorted. It seems he stunned me with a sudden move as I don't remember how exactly did it all happen. I took a moment and then noticed that he simply held me like that, silent and still, except for both our excited breathing. I tried to struggle free but his four-limbed grip tightened and I started feeling a bit of pain in my tendons, all over my stretched and locked body. I froze for a moment with him after giggling nervously and then tried to surprise him by pulling my arms down to escape his grip. It worked for a moment, but I quickly found myself surrounded by both his arms, with which he garbed each of my wrists and, despite my struggling to break free with all my strength, I found my arms crossed in front of my chest and pulled back from behind, causing one arm to limit the other's movement. I heard him ask, "where do you think your going?" as I once again tried to freeze and surprise him with a move.
This time, it was all but futile, and the result was my yelping in pain as he tightened his grip on all four enough to cause my joints to ache, and then relaxing just enough for the sharp pain to abate but not enough so that the burn of stretching was still there. This time, his grip was hard as steel, and even at the slightest move of my arms or legs he'd press to the painful level for a moment - long enough to hear me cry out again, and back to the same position.
All of this, he did in complete silence until now, aside from the question that he asked. By then it was clear to me: he was demonstrating his power over me, and doing so with all the confidence in the world. This guy's strength astonishing, considering he is not much more built than I am and, from what I gathered from our car conversation, a year younger than me (!). On top of that, the skill with which he exacted his moves suggested extensive experience in some grappling martial art (he said that he had none whatsoever when I asked later, though I seriously doubt it). I was feeling increasingly weak, helpless, and losing control over everything.
"I'm gonna show you who's in charge here..." he said as he swiftly slid beneath my torso while maintaining his grip, and in no time had me in the same cross-armed position now resting on his belly, my body arched, and my cock throbbing furiously against the air overhead, his in turn throbbing against my lower back. Once again he pressed just enough to hear me scream then relaxed a tiny bit. He made a point of stretching my legs as far apart using his own. I was rendered immobile, completely exposed and vulnerable, and there was absolutely nothing that I could do about it.
"You're not going anywhere..." he said, "and there's nothing you can do about it!" - to spell out my feelings, and as if to demonstrate what he said he let go of me, so that I instinctively found myself trying to escape, only to find myself the next instant swiftly entangled in a different, steel-tough grip, again headed by a spike of pain. He did this again several times in what looked like a very unbalanced wrestling match. After a few tries I finally gave up.
At some point either here or between the next few events, he paused while keeping me locked in an awkward position, and proceeded to rant on random subjects! I have no idea how he managed to get on the subject, but all I know is that I was stuck in a hold for a very long time listening to his stoned rants, especially how he repeated the insignificant details. One definitely significant detail, however, was his accidentally mentioning his real name: Tom. I guessed this was part of his power game and went along with it. I am sure he was aware that I was facing his cock by the way I was positioned, and knew just how bad I wanted it. I believe that after the long-winded discussion, he ordered me to suck him off but after a while interrupted me for some reason and went back to keeping me under his hold.
"You're not going anywhere..." he repeated. I do not remember how I was held exactly but he did have one arm by the wrist and no matter how I moved it, his grip made it so that my arm became more and more contorted. He pointed out that if I keep struggling I will cause it to break, which was evident to me. I had no choice but to stop. "See? You can't go anywhere without my permission." All I could do was breathe heavily... he kept bringing his face close to mine, and every time I tried to raise mine toward it I was pushed down forcefully. After several failed attempts, I whimpered that I would do anything to kiss him now. He pretended he didn't hear and ordered me to repeat.
I repeated myself as ordered, but he just smiled a little and, once again, he let go momentarily (perhaps playing on my hopes of reaching his face for said kiss), only for me to find him straddling my crotch and pinning my arms far above my head in a classic submission hold, which he stretched until he was satisfied with my reaction to the pain.
At this point I was in some sort of an ecstatic trance, having never felt such utter and absolute helplessness under the immediate, complete control of another person. It was a mystical experience in a way, a very liberating feeling...
(...)
I then remember myself beside him on the bed and restrained again in a most awkward and rather painful contortion that got only tighter and nastier anytime I tried to adjust my body to become less awkward. I was screaming again, in equal parts pain and bliss. He eventually shifted the hold to make my body more stable while still, but it was still awkward. What's more, one of his legs passed just over and in front of my crotch, missing my dick by a hair, and try as I tried, I could never rub it against that leg. "Look at how pathetic you are. You're trying to rub your dick against my leg but you won't be able to..." he said in a matter-of-factly tone. At this point, all I could do was laugh. "And you're not going anywhere," he repeated once agian. "If you try to move the right arm, you'll dislocate your shoulder, and if you try to move your left hand you'll break your wrist..." - I most definitely felt on the edge of both, exactly as he described... "... and if you try to move your right leg, you'll dislocate your hip... and the left leg is stuck beneath my weight..." he was absolutely right. "And I guess this means..." he paused as his voice became slightly more arrogant, "that you are fucked. Right?"
I laughed. "Right."
He giggled, and repeated, "You are totally fucked - figuratively now, and you're going to be fucked both literally and figuratively next time! [we had agreed not to have intercourse this time as we were both out of condoms, and besides his roommate was there and he didn't want her to hear my screaming]"
He then just stopped in silence, no doubt himself being as turned on by his power and control as I was turned on by my lack thereof.
"So now you know who's in charge here, right?" I could only say yes.
"So who's in charge?"
I just whimpered. He momentarily tightened his grip and I screamed.
"Who's in charge?? TELL ME??"
"...you."
"That's right. And who makes the rules?"
"You do..."
"That's right," and he proceeded to explain in his now-characteristic matter-of-fact way how I am fucked if I don't follow the rules and how I'm fucked if I do.
"So in the end, either way, this means that you're fucked!" he sarcastically remarked. "It means that your what?"
"That... that I'm fucked." I giggled nervously. At this point I was unable to tell the difference between funny and intimidating. At the same time, I was reaching states of sexual arousal that I had never, ever experienced before.
"That's right".
More silent stillness. The powerful effect here was that he caused me, through my own and apparently freely-chosen actions, to prove to myself just how powerless I am against him. This was further cemented with his dialogue in which it seems the final result is always my admission - again through my own, apparently free, will - that I am completely helpless and fucked.
I then broke into laughter again.
(Continued next post)
---
(...)
[Note: About an hour after we reached his place and started playing around]
Suddenly, I found myself twisted on the bed with my back to him, his legs bent and locked around mine, restricting their movement, and his arms pinning mine down beside him on the bed and stretching them above my head so I was uncomfortably contorted. It seems he stunned me with a sudden move as I don't remember how exactly did it all happen. I took a moment and then noticed that he simply held me like that, silent and still, except for both our excited breathing. I tried to struggle free but his four-limbed grip tightened and I started feeling a bit of pain in my tendons, all over my stretched and locked body. I froze for a moment with him after giggling nervously and then tried to surprise him by pulling my arms down to escape his grip. It worked for a moment, but I quickly found myself surrounded by both his arms, with which he garbed each of my wrists and, despite my struggling to break free with all my strength, I found my arms crossed in front of my chest and pulled back from behind, causing one arm to limit the other's movement. I heard him ask, "where do you think your going?" as I once again tried to freeze and surprise him with a move.
This time, it was all but futile, and the result was my yelping in pain as he tightened his grip on all four enough to cause my joints to ache, and then relaxing just enough for the sharp pain to abate but not enough so that the burn of stretching was still there. This time, his grip was hard as steel, and even at the slightest move of my arms or legs he'd press to the painful level for a moment - long enough to hear me cry out again, and back to the same position.
All of this, he did in complete silence until now, aside from the question that he asked. By then it was clear to me: he was demonstrating his power over me, and doing so with all the confidence in the world. This guy's strength astonishing, considering he is not much more built than I am and, from what I gathered from our car conversation, a year younger than me (!). On top of that, the skill with which he exacted his moves suggested extensive experience in some grappling martial art (he said that he had none whatsoever when I asked later, though I seriously doubt it). I was feeling increasingly weak, helpless, and losing control over everything.
"I'm gonna show you who's in charge here..." he said as he swiftly slid beneath my torso while maintaining his grip, and in no time had me in the same cross-armed position now resting on his belly, my body arched, and my cock throbbing furiously against the air overhead, his in turn throbbing against my lower back. Once again he pressed just enough to hear me scream then relaxed a tiny bit. He made a point of stretching my legs as far apart using his own. I was rendered immobile, completely exposed and vulnerable, and there was absolutely nothing that I could do about it.
"You're not going anywhere..." he said, "and there's nothing you can do about it!" - to spell out my feelings, and as if to demonstrate what he said he let go of me, so that I instinctively found myself trying to escape, only to find myself the next instant swiftly entangled in a different, steel-tough grip, again headed by a spike of pain. He did this again several times in what looked like a very unbalanced wrestling match. After a few tries I finally gave up.
At some point either here or between the next few events, he paused while keeping me locked in an awkward position, and proceeded to rant on random subjects! I have no idea how he managed to get on the subject, but all I know is that I was stuck in a hold for a very long time listening to his stoned rants, especially how he repeated the insignificant details. One definitely significant detail, however, was his accidentally mentioning his real name: Tom. I guessed this was part of his power game and went along with it. I am sure he was aware that I was facing his cock by the way I was positioned, and knew just how bad I wanted it. I believe that after the long-winded discussion, he ordered me to suck him off but after a while interrupted me for some reason and went back to keeping me under his hold.
"You're not going anywhere..." he repeated. I do not remember how I was held exactly but he did have one arm by the wrist and no matter how I moved it, his grip made it so that my arm became more and more contorted. He pointed out that if I keep struggling I will cause it to break, which was evident to me. I had no choice but to stop. "See? You can't go anywhere without my permission." All I could do was breathe heavily... he kept bringing his face close to mine, and every time I tried to raise mine toward it I was pushed down forcefully. After several failed attempts, I whimpered that I would do anything to kiss him now. He pretended he didn't hear and ordered me to repeat.
I repeated myself as ordered, but he just smiled a little and, once again, he let go momentarily (perhaps playing on my hopes of reaching his face for said kiss), only for me to find him straddling my crotch and pinning my arms far above my head in a classic submission hold, which he stretched until he was satisfied with my reaction to the pain.
At this point I was in some sort of an ecstatic trance, having never felt such utter and absolute helplessness under the immediate, complete control of another person. It was a mystical experience in a way, a very liberating feeling...
(...)
I then remember myself beside him on the bed and restrained again in a most awkward and rather painful contortion that got only tighter and nastier anytime I tried to adjust my body to become less awkward. I was screaming again, in equal parts pain and bliss. He eventually shifted the hold to make my body more stable while still, but it was still awkward. What's more, one of his legs passed just over and in front of my crotch, missing my dick by a hair, and try as I tried, I could never rub it against that leg. "Look at how pathetic you are. You're trying to rub your dick against my leg but you won't be able to..." he said in a matter-of-factly tone. At this point, all I could do was laugh. "And you're not going anywhere," he repeated once agian. "If you try to move the right arm, you'll dislocate your shoulder, and if you try to move your left hand you'll break your wrist..." - I most definitely felt on the edge of both, exactly as he described... "... and if you try to move your right leg, you'll dislocate your hip... and the left leg is stuck beneath my weight..." he was absolutely right. "And I guess this means..." he paused as his voice became slightly more arrogant, "that you are fucked. Right?"
I laughed. "Right."
He giggled, and repeated, "You are totally fucked - figuratively now, and you're going to be fucked both literally and figuratively next time! [we had agreed not to have intercourse this time as we were both out of condoms, and besides his roommate was there and he didn't want her to hear my screaming]"
He then just stopped in silence, no doubt himself being as turned on by his power and control as I was turned on by my lack thereof.
"So now you know who's in charge here, right?" I could only say yes.
"So who's in charge?"
I just whimpered. He momentarily tightened his grip and I screamed.
"Who's in charge?? TELL ME??"
"...you."
"That's right. And who makes the rules?"
"You do..."
"That's right," and he proceeded to explain in his now-characteristic matter-of-fact way how I am fucked if I don't follow the rules and how I'm fucked if I do.
"So in the end, either way, this means that you're fucked!" he sarcastically remarked. "It means that your what?"
"That... that I'm fucked." I giggled nervously. At this point I was unable to tell the difference between funny and intimidating. At the same time, I was reaching states of sexual arousal that I had never, ever experienced before.
"That's right".
More silent stillness. The powerful effect here was that he caused me, through my own and apparently freely-chosen actions, to prove to myself just how powerless I am against him. This was further cemented with his dialogue in which it seems the final result is always my admission - again through my own, apparently free, will - that I am completely helpless and fucked.
I then broke into laughter again.
(Continued next post)
This is from a private journal entry I wrote in hopes of helping integrate the very transformative incident that happened on the night of October the 14th. I edited out some paragraphs that contained too much intimate detail that should really be left private, and wouldn't hurt the story much if removed. I'm sharing the following with everyone because I'd like to know what you think of how this works.
After this, I will never view my sexuality the same way again, and am currently trying to figure out how this power dynamic works. The effects of it were truly eye-opening and even therapeutic in a cathartic way.
Of course, the dialogues I included are not complete, and I patched them together from what sticks most in my memory. They still retain their essential meaning and effect, however.
[What follows is a detailed account of kinky but softcore gay sex (no intercourse involved). Don't say I didn't warn you!]
"So which part of my body did you want to taste first?" he asked plainly.
I took a quick, nervous glance up and down his body, not daring to meet his eyes, even though they were focussed on the road.
"Uh... It all looks tasty to me..." I eventually managed to mumble.
"How about my fingers?" he asked and didn't wait before he extended his right hand in front of me. I immediately grabbed it and started sucking on it with the passion of one reunited with a lover. In a sense, I was, as it has been more than a whole year since I last indulged in a man's body and was craving it insanely.
"Nice, you're good at that. Wanna try my cock for a bit?"
"Mmm..."
I assumed he was talking about what we were going to do when we get to his place as I saw him take out a cigarette and light it. But after the first drag, he started undoing his belt and zippers. I do not know how he managed to juggle that with smoking and driving, and I started worrying if we were ever going to get to his place at all. He whipped his cock out, already semi-hard,
"Suck it." he ordered casually, and I found myself hypnotically wiggling out of my seatbelt and stretching to reach it. He helped me out by gabbing the back of my neck and forcing my head down to his crotch. I was shivering with excitement and despite the circumstances, I made love to him, then and there.
"You taste so good..." I finally said after gorging myself on it for a long while.
"Thank you."
"As does your precum...", I continued as I thoroughly enjoyed licking the mild-tasting droplets already forming at the tip. I have a thing for precum and it turns me on like hell. I kept working his cock as it got slightly harder, but after a few minutes I felt his fingers firmly grasp my hair and carefully pulling me away... I was unsure whether to feel sad for being pulled away from this work of beauty or whether to be excited for having the man attached to it command me by the hair and being careful to gauge my pain threshold for hair-pulling.
"We're gonna have to save it for later. Gotta focus on driving so we can make it in one piece!"
After a long pause of silence, I asked him about his name.
"So are you really called Goose?"
"That's what everyone calls me because I laugh like a goose's honk. You'll know when you hear it." He teasingly refused to tell me what his real name was.
We were on our way to his place in St. Thomas, a small town south of the one I lived in, certainly far enough from my place (in the extreme North) to be considered a long drive. I double checked myself... here I was being taken by a boy calling himself Goose whom I have never met until a few minutes ago. I knew almost nothing about him aside from a few details about sexual preferences from the little online conversation we had before we decided in the heat of the moment that he is to come right now all the way to my place to pick me up (as I don't drive). I knew that he was a rather slim, naturally-smooth guy with the horniest expression I've ever seen adorning his sharp-featured face. I learnt that he's into domination, which is (at least aesthetically) not very common for a smooth twink like him, the latter type I am generally not too attracted to in the first place.
And yet here I was, already entrusting him with my life and safety - I was now on the highway, too far from home to escape and make it, and his domineering magnetism was already showing through.
We talked about random things... I asked him about his craziest experiences, and while he was describing a situation that I cannot remember but with which he somehow wanted to know how I'd react if my balls were squeezed and yanked. I believe I told him without thinking much of the matter that I'm not sure but didn't mind finding out someday. No sooner than I finished talking his hand darted from my steering wheel to my crotch, catching me off guard, and felt up my pants to find my balls. The next thing I know I was screaming with pleasure and pain at once as he gradually tightened his grip, which he kept on for a few seconds until he sensed that the pain has exceeded the comfort zone (measured by the increasing intensity of my cry), at which point he stopped. I had nothing to say and just giggled nervously instead.
Needless to say, I knew I was in for something different from any that I'd experienced yet. Any second thoughts I had were completely abolished, for better or worse. Despite knowing nothing about this guy, and despite him being very untypical for a dom, I was already feeling a very powerful chemistry with him.
(continued in next entry)
After this, I will never view my sexuality the same way again, and am currently trying to figure out how this power dynamic works. The effects of it were truly eye-opening and even therapeutic in a cathartic way.
Of course, the dialogues I included are not complete, and I patched them together from what sticks most in my memory. They still retain their essential meaning and effect, however.
[What follows is a detailed account of kinky but softcore gay sex (no intercourse involved). Don't say I didn't warn you!]
"So which part of my body did you want to taste first?" he asked plainly.
I took a quick, nervous glance up and down his body, not daring to meet his eyes, even though they were focussed on the road.
"Uh... It all looks tasty to me..." I eventually managed to mumble.
"How about my fingers?" he asked and didn't wait before he extended his right hand in front of me. I immediately grabbed it and started sucking on it with the passion of one reunited with a lover. In a sense, I was, as it has been more than a whole year since I last indulged in a man's body and was craving it insanely.
"Nice, you're good at that. Wanna try my cock for a bit?"
"Mmm..."
I assumed he was talking about what we were going to do when we get to his place as I saw him take out a cigarette and light it. But after the first drag, he started undoing his belt and zippers. I do not know how he managed to juggle that with smoking and driving, and I started worrying if we were ever going to get to his place at all. He whipped his cock out, already semi-hard,
"Suck it." he ordered casually, and I found myself hypnotically wiggling out of my seatbelt and stretching to reach it. He helped me out by gabbing the back of my neck and forcing my head down to his crotch. I was shivering with excitement and despite the circumstances, I made love to him, then and there.
"You taste so good..." I finally said after gorging myself on it for a long while.
"Thank you."
"As does your precum...", I continued as I thoroughly enjoyed licking the mild-tasting droplets already forming at the tip. I have a thing for precum and it turns me on like hell. I kept working his cock as it got slightly harder, but after a few minutes I felt his fingers firmly grasp my hair and carefully pulling me away... I was unsure whether to feel sad for being pulled away from this work of beauty or whether to be excited for having the man attached to it command me by the hair and being careful to gauge my pain threshold for hair-pulling.
"We're gonna have to save it for later. Gotta focus on driving so we can make it in one piece!"
After a long pause of silence, I asked him about his name.
"So are you really called Goose?"
"That's what everyone calls me because I laugh like a goose's honk. You'll know when you hear it." He teasingly refused to tell me what his real name was.
We were on our way to his place in St. Thomas, a small town south of the one I lived in, certainly far enough from my place (in the extreme North) to be considered a long drive. I double checked myself... here I was being taken by a boy calling himself Goose whom I have never met until a few minutes ago. I knew almost nothing about him aside from a few details about sexual preferences from the little online conversation we had before we decided in the heat of the moment that he is to come right now all the way to my place to pick me up (as I don't drive). I knew that he was a rather slim, naturally-smooth guy with the horniest expression I've ever seen adorning his sharp-featured face. I learnt that he's into domination, which is (at least aesthetically) not very common for a smooth twink like him, the latter type I am generally not too attracted to in the first place.
And yet here I was, already entrusting him with my life and safety - I was now on the highway, too far from home to escape and make it, and his domineering magnetism was already showing through.
We talked about random things... I asked him about his craziest experiences, and while he was describing a situation that I cannot remember but with which he somehow wanted to know how I'd react if my balls were squeezed and yanked. I believe I told him without thinking much of the matter that I'm not sure but didn't mind finding out someday. No sooner than I finished talking his hand darted from my steering wheel to my crotch, catching me off guard, and felt up my pants to find my balls. The next thing I know I was screaming with pleasure and pain at once as he gradually tightened his grip, which he kept on for a few seconds until he sensed that the pain has exceeded the comfort zone (measured by the increasing intensity of my cry), at which point he stopped. I had nothing to say and just giggled nervously instead.
Needless to say, I knew I was in for something different from any that I'd experienced yet. Any second thoughts I had were completely abolished, for better or worse. Despite knowing nothing about this guy, and despite him being very untypical for a dom, I was already feeling a very powerful chemistry with him.
(continued in next entry)