I am the storm.
I’ve been away from home this week, visiting my friend Eve, and it’s been so lovely.
I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. But he sounded so good, so desperate. It was the begging that got me. It gets me every time.
“Fucking hell …” “What?” “The bloody thing says it’s not paired to my phone.” “Maybe put your phone closer to your butt?”
“It’s the way you look at me,” he whispered. “The way you look into me. You’re so calm and warm but there’s something else there, something under the surface. That flicker in your eyes, like lightning. It’s primal. You’re primal. Queen of the forest, I want you to hunt me, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
He asked if he could wank. I said no. He immediately accepted my response. No begging or bargaining, no negotiations or sulking. So of course I told him to take it out and touch. Sexting is so fucking hot.
She’s on speakerphone and we are laughing and chatting as I fiddle with an editing app on my phone, cropping the picture she’s just sent me. “Are you done editing it? Show me! You should call it ‘A Little Slice of Heaven’ because that’s what it is.”
Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
What is it about Sunday mornings that makes you want to linger in bed?
I can’t deny the surge of power that affixing a phallus to my body gives me but the feminist in me rages.
Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and all I’m reading and hearing is frustration and resentment about the day. I get it; Valentine’s Day is wildly over commercialized, rather heteronormative and has a dodgy history. I also think that in a world literally gone mad, a day dedicated to love cannot be wrong.
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. – William Shakespeare
At last, from across the ocean, my hands behold this tiny symbol, this bit of steel, this piece of him.
And I’ll dance with you in Vienna I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise The hyacinth wild on my shoulder My mouth on the dew of your thighs
A woman watches her body uneasily, as though it were an unreliable ally in the battle for love. Leonard Cohen
Ever mine. Ever thine. Ever ours.