Sunday, November 29, 2009

Top Ten Questions of Life

As u can see, again the drawing above is from Nanshakh. It represents his original, painted at the time we were in constant contact. Nowadays he's more occupied with a new flame, who seems to answer more to his fantasies and deep rooted desire to become an absolute nobody ruled by a woman driven by the idea of what mainstreamers call "female supremacy". A detail of it has a permanent place on the right side of my blog, as i consider this drawing one of his best. As i did with many of his illustrations, i tempered with the coloring to create a somewhat different atmosphere. In most cases he appreciated my interventions.

Q#00 Why do so many males want to be a slut?
Answer: That way they can safely degrade women even more.

Q#01 Why do male creatures adore silly bimbos and giggling sluts?
Answer: When around elegant women with an attitude, their ego and libido shrink.

Q#02 Why do mainstream femdoms want their subs to act like dogs?
Answer: They r incapable of enslaving humans and handling slaves.

Q#03 Why would u want to show ur cock in ur profile?
Answer: Watching the photo-shopped version of ur little man, makes it grow.

Q#04 Why is hypnotizing, or being hypnotized so wonderful?
Answer: It nullifies in both parties any awareness of being weak.

Q#05 Why r most people so quiet when visiting blogs and social networks?
Answer: They’re stuck with too many contradicting emotions, when on the same page with me.

Q#06 Why r there a zillion more males wanting to be a woman, than females wanting to be a man?
Answer: I can’t afford to reveal this, as all males would be in drag in no time.

Q#07 Why is there a disproportional amount of lesbians online?
Answer: It’s the only way extremely heterosexual machos dare to approach women.

Q#08 Why do so many males keep insisting they’re dominant?
Answer: They confuse messing the place up, with having power.

Q#09 Why do so many females constantly tell other females, they’re in love with them?
Answer: Cos they hate them.

Q#10 Why r most women potentially smarter than males, but actually more stupid?
Answer: They can make any male crawl and do their bidding, but choose to crawl themselves.

Any questions?

Saturday, November 21, 2009


Too long i was at rest
Too long asleep
A restless sleep
A restless rest
A slumber lulled by
A fantasy of peace

There is no peace
But there is war
A war i was so eager to forget
A war at land
A war in the city
A war in the street

I hate this peace
That is not peace at all
A peace so rotten
A peace so soothing
A peace so foul
A peace so comforting

I want to kill once more
To destroy this peace
A conflict i desire
A gun in my hand
A warrior at me side
A coward slain

I hate this peace
This peace of indifference
A planet under siege
A man pimped out
A woman castrated
A child abandoned

I want to kill once more
To erase this peace
A graveyard i desire
A slaughterhouse i crave
A battlefield in blood
A culture collapsing

I hate this peace
This peace of compromise
A farce
A lie
A decomposing dove
A golden calf

I want to kill once more
To crush this peace
To face this torture
To take revenge
To eradicate my error and shame
To lessen my rage

I walked in my garden last night
Heavy rain clouds were hunting a full moon
White clouds they were
Colliding with extreme force
Uniting without battle in harmony
Teaching me how to free my

Sunday, November 15, 2009

The Gardener

Bang! There he was. Big truck. Big trailer. Lots of garden tools, electrical ones as well as those working on gas. Plenty of fertilizer and insecticides. The man himself was big too, with a big smile, and very self-confident. A man of the garden world so to speak. I was informed, he had attended garden school, and graduated summa cum laude as the best of his class. Indeed he was a class apart. His references were impressive. He had worked for the crème de la crème of society, was celebrated by the jet set, and had gathered several trophies during garden contests. He was a gardener all right, if not THE gardener. Not that he did a lot of gardening himself nowadays. For that he had his workers, while he restricted his actions to managing his staff. He watched them like a hawk in heat, not missing anything they were doing, correcting , guiding, and disciplining them, if they dared to deviate from the rules, his rules.

His gardens looked beautiful. His trees blossomed when blossom-time was there. His flowers bloomed, and his lawns were greener than green itself. And no weeds whatsoever! There was order in his gardens. He hated chaos. All that had the capability to grow, had to grow in line. His line. His law. In his gardens, no bugs allowed, no roaches, no spiders, no snakes, no ants, no nothing. He called these creatures, pests, and everybody knows that pests r the pest, and need to be eradicated, erased, and killed. So he sprayed, and sprayed, and sprayed some more. Clean beautiful gardens, that’s what he was after, that’s what gardening was all about. He was the master of it all.

His scrubs were trimmed. His trees were trimmed as well. And not just like that. Oh no! No way! He trimmed a certain shape out of them. I saw one in the shape of a bird. This was not too bad, as he allowed not so many birds in his gardens. Too much bird-shit u know. Can’t have that. Besides, when there is an overload of birds around, imagine the noise they would make during sunrise and sunset. Can’t have that either. It rumored he killed any stray cat on sight, hanging them by the neck from tree branches he would cut off later. Especially male cats were his victims, as they would piss everywhere if allowed to cruise his gardens. Not that he would spare the female ones as they too had that nasty habit of digging holes in his ground. The only ones who were allowed to dig holes were of cors his subordinates, and only when told so. Rabbits, rats, dogs, moles, and mice? Come on, have a heart. Not in his gardens. Preferably he worked for the elderly, as mostly they had no small kids running around anymore. Just picture it: Toddlers playing on his lawns, damaging his grass. Blasphemy!

He had a contract with a large nursery for instant delivery, as many of his plants died after a short while, and needed to be replaced regularly to keep his gardens beautiful.

And then there was this other guy. He would never import flowers and trees that weren’t native to his gardens. He saved rainwater in special containers, masoned according to old customs. The connected drip irrigation was used as needed, and not simply time released. He observed the phases of the moon, and only trimmed plants within a timeframe of five days b4 or after a full moon, depending on how fast he wanted them to grow. He loved animals, and never called them pests. He knew the value of for instance a lady-bird, when it comes to balance the presence of plant-lice. Spraying pesticides was alien to him. He loved the sight of a spider sitting there, waiting for the fly. He enjoyed the movements of the heron standing on one leg in the pond. He loved to see a cat licking the dewdrops off the grass in the early morning light. He studied the skies and behavior of animals, so he would know when rain would fall, and if a breeze would turn into a storm. He never raked leaves from under a tree to clean up the place. He made his borders high enough, so all that came off of his plants could decompose the natural way, giving life again to the living ones. When he touched the soil, the soil touched him back.

In his gardens many birds sang, and left a lot of shit behind as well, just like it occurs in places where no human hand is disturbing the course of events. When he worked in his gardens, or was strolling them at the end of the day, no animals where running away from him, as he was part of their environment, using his skills to empower nature, instead of dominating and crippling it.

His gardens were not only beautiful. They were alive!

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Dada........Promise and Failure

Of cors the superb drawing above is from Nanshakh. As usual i had to temper a bit with the coloring :)

No, i’m not referring to that creep from Uganda, who killed close to 500,000 people, but to an art/cultural movement at the beginning of the twentieth century. Zürich was their city. The place they gathered was called Cabaret Voltaire. Dada developed anti-art, as a way to express its disgust with society in general, and contemporary art in particular, accusing the latter of collaborating with the bourgeois elite, contributing to war, and supporting other cancerous phenomena, by embracing traditional norms and values, instead of revolutionizing them. It’s an art form i feel related to, as i’m in favor of contrast, anarchy, uncommon sense, chaos, irrationality, and constant criticism of the establishment, by putting and keeping same under tremendous pressure, in order to at least embank its insatiable hunger for restricting people’s freedom by developing and implementing zillions of rules, laws, and other systems of repression.

I guess Dadaïsts, in a way, felt related to the work of Voltaire, his satire, and daring opposition to the powerful French institutions of his time, as well as religion. One could argue, that Voltaire was a revolutionary, operating under extreme difficult circumstances, and a champion of freedom and social reform. And yet, he’s also an example of how deep rooted Anti-Semitism is, as he hated the Jews, and considered them barbaric and inferior. The same counts for other giants in art and literature, i.e. Blake, Liszt, and many others.

Dada in its purest from didn’t last long. The movement split up after a while, giving birth to several new branches. From the Paris chapter came Surrealism, which is another art form i’m holding close to my heart.

It’s sad that movements like Dada die, never get accepted by the masses, and never r understood. On the contrary, they r seen as insane, counter productive, and a danger to society. A society which is killing its roots, and destroying the foundation on which it originally was built, by eradicating individual creativity, independence, freedom, power, desire, potential, deviance from the norm, and initiative. It’s an illusion to believe these traits r encouraged by our social, political, and educational systems. Sure, the ‘elite’ of our society wants us to believe they r advocating development and growth of these traits, by telling us how important they r for a sane and just world. But they don't mean it. Bunch of greedy liars, that's what they r, condoned and supported by indifferent, and equally greedy morons.

Aaaahhhhh……….but there’s Neo-Dadaïsm, and even Neo-Neo-Dadaïsm. Such a relief. But i’ll stick to FFD. Much more realistic, and not dependent on the ‘one man one vote’ hysteria. Voltaire was right when he postulated, that democracy was inferior to enlightened despotism. Together with that other notorious one, Donatien de Sade, he might have been a good slave to a Jewish Gypsy woman after all, although she would never have accepted him to her inner circle.

Then Nanshakh wrote:

For all his wit, brightness, shortcomings, and insufferable traits, Voltaire is also somewhat a disappointing character, at least under the daring revolutionary angle. And mind you, I really like Voltaire. But he was not much consistent with his purported opposition to the establishment. After all, while criticising the "ancien regime" (which was the current regime at the time) his first and foremost ambition was to be admitted at the court at Versailles. Where he eventually and reluctantly managed to be accepted, but not for long... One evening, to try to stop his mistress from losing heavily at the game at the queen's table, he eventually whispered to her that the queen was cheating (which everybody knew except his mistress), and so she had better stop playing before losing too much. He whispered it in English, but someone understood English at the table, so they had to run, but run, run very fast to escape. To run and go into hiding. Again. By the way, after that most colossal of all blunders, he went into hiding in Madame's castle, Madame being the King's sister. That residence was reputed to have the most beautiful lambris (wainscotings?) of France. So it's in those most extreme and difficult circumstances that the champion of social reform operated one of his routine retreats, enjoying the very refined conversation of his extremely cultured hostess, and her exquisite table!So much so for the daring opposition of that revolutionary to the French institutions of the time... Voltaire operated most of his opposition under such adverse circumstances, amassing a little fortune in doing so, and enjoying the company of the most illustrious monarchs and aristocrats of the time. Even the first time he was jailed at the Bastille, the governor of the Bastille complained to the Regent after some time that Voltaire's cell had become the most fashionable salon of Paris. Well, maybe in that sense he was exceptional for a revolutionary, he was consumed by ambition and social recognition, but at least, he was really very intelligent and amusing.

All this as a manner of introduction to express my doubts as to the sincerity of the Dadaists. First the need to make one's art within a movement is in itself so conformist from the start. As if one's work could only be valued in relation to what preceded, surrounded and followed it. In fact the need to created a movement, with the inevitable manifesto in most cases, is so boring. And then, they, the dadaists, and then all the neos that followed, and the surrealists and all the others, were about as anti-bourgeois as Voltaire was. Without the wit usually. After all, they were the artistic establishment of the time, and yes, they did sell very well. Ok, they were considered decadent and abhorred by the Nazis and other fascists of the time, but those were really not the reference in art circles then eh! In fact, for art amateurs -and rich collectors- of the time, it was a reference to be abhorred by the reactionary clique. It was not the art condoned by the Francos, Hitlers and Mussolinis that was selling well in the 'right' galleries in Paris, and that art dealers crossed the Atlantic to buy.

So.. all that to say, you are so right, Ayesha. FFD is something to stick by. And to live by for those who can. What else? Only... as long as it won't be a movement I suppose.

Ah, those tribes, how I hate them.

As your post makes me reflect on it, the beauty of femdom, or feminine domination, is that it is intrinsically individual. In fact it's in essence about The one and sole individuality. Hers.

If that can be the definition of enlightened despotism, great, but only on a very personal level then.

And i:

FFD a movement? That'll be the day. Or better not! Like u, i'm totally against any institutionalizing of femdom. Remember the Femdom Heresy group, owned by Sarah, and her views on the matter? She’s one of those, who would like to change the world, by implementing female rules, laws, values, and other vanilla inherited ingredients, defining femdom as some sort of social movement. Still she linked her group to heresy, in an attempt to show her audience how different her ideas were from mainstream femdom. Another one is Rasa von Werder lol, and many others who want to re-educate people according to insights which r only rooted in the teachings of archetypal patriarchs.

And that’s the sadness of the majority of so called revolutionists i have knowledge of. They all need support from others, preferable from large groups of people. Only a few realize that revolution incorporates the complete break with the status quo, and more importantly, taking care not to crawl back when the storm comes to a rest. All the rest is just compromising.

U r quite right, correcting me in regard to Voltaire and the members of Dada. They too couldn’t live according to their ideas and values without the support of others, without conforming to norms they despised, or giving up the search for status, recognition, and security. I can understand it’s necessary to mobilize the masses, in order to bring change to a rotten society as a whole. But only as a strategy. Art should never be based on strategy tho. Neither should femdom! But i’m lenient, feeling empathy for people, who want to resist, whose souls r crying out for change, but r too scared to stand alone, and to go all the way in disconnecting from a world they don’t want to belong to anymore. I can understand their need for comfort via the company of others, for them to control those overwhelming feelings of fear, uncertainty, and doubt, which come with their travels to the ‘promised land’. It’s one of the reasons i’m not totally against recreational femdom.

Enlightened despotism? Let me rephrase that. It’s simply my despotism.

Watch the video! It’s really something! Unite with it. Well, try at least.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Delightful Deceit

Some time ago, when Yahoo 360 was still alive, i happened one day to read Rita's blog. Rita is one heck of a woman. To me she's as unique as Carla, the one i mentioned in "Faces of Love.........", remember? Oh u don't? Ur loss!

Anyway, Rita was sad. Couldn't figure out exactly for what reason tho. There was something about orthodox Christians or something. Maybe she was sad cos these Christians collaborated with the Germans during WW II, in order to help them to make the Jews disappear from the face of this planet. Nothing new there. Since ages they embraced anti-semitism. One of their saints ( a holy man eh), going by the name of John Chrysostom, was a champion in that area. It always baffles me when people who were and r persecuted themselves in horrible ways, quite often have an urge to persecute others. If not mistaken, some 50 million orthodox Christians were slaughtered during the ages, and still they too were fanatics in organizing one pogrom after another to kill the Jews.

I leave it at that, as that was not the reason to write this blog.

My inspiration came from the second video there, namely Sarah Brightman’s “Ave Maria”. I’ve heard many interpretations of it, but this one is special! If u know the song (and which God fearing and tax paying Christian doesn’t?), u know it’s one of those moving traditional religious top hits. In fact i play and sing it myself sometimes, cos i love the melody.

Here r the lyrics. Also in English for the morons who don’t understand Latin.

Ave Maria
Gratia plena
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Tui, Jesus
Sancta Maria
Mater Dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae

Hail Mary,
full of grace,
the Lord is with thee;
blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.

Ah.........u know the Schubert song as well? U really rock!!

Btw, u should know Latin and Greek u know. I mean, as a Christian u shouldn’t only rely on the Saint James version of the Bible eh? Or the translation from Wycliffe and Purvey for that matter. Try it in Greek sometime. Even better to study the Hebrew text u know. Oh u don't read Hebrew either? Tsss...tsk. What kind of world citizen r u dammit? A mono linguistic one? Nooooo, i can't believe that. Not u. U speak more than one no? U r capable to understand the real thing, the true word of ur master. Well i mean all three of them of cors. What u say? U don't? And still u claim to be an aficionado of Christian morals, abiding by them no matter what? How do u know these morals r the true ones? U trust the translators? U trust the ones who taught them to u? U sure? No doubts at all? Ah i see, u say ur driven by them, but now and then u just forget about them, simply straying from the Path of Light, the Universal Truth, when it's convenient to u, when u want to get back at ur spouse, or the opportunity to make some fraudulent earnings is way too tempting to be bothered by some ancient rules. And why shouldn't u eh? Forgiveness is around the corner. Ur God will love u anyway, no matter what scumbag u r. And then........there's always his mom, um, the mom of one of them to be precise, going by the name of Mary, the spouse of Joseph, aka Maria, the one woman on this planet who got pregnant and still kept her virginity. I never understood why that was so important. I mean having to be a virgin when giving birth to one of them triplets,. Must have something to do with morals i think. But since i myself am a saint, i will be lenient on that. So enough of this. Back to Mary, aka Maria. She'll lay in a good word for u, protect u, and save u from eternal wrath, when everything goes wrong, and Yahweh is too pissed off with u to remember u r his child too, and therefore has to love u. Yep. moms can come in handy sometimes. I can tell, cos i'm a mom too.

All this sounds a bit farfetched to u? Well it happens u know. And i know all about it. So relax, go on preaching ur fine morals, and act against them when u see fit. No harm done. Really. Nothing to lose a good night's sleep for. It's all good. And u know what really will help? To tell others how sinful they r. Yes, do it, throw that darn stone. What? Wait! Make that an avalanche of rocks! The more the better. Down with these no good sinners, these assholes of humanity. Will give u an excellent feeling how righteous u r. A true child of the Lord. Nothing can happen to u now. Sheer delight will be urs. U belong to the chosen ones, and when ur body starts to decompose, u will fly away and be the champ of the heavens. Now that's what i would call a future to fight for. Praise the Lord and pass some more stones. Yeah. Hallelujah!

I'm sure tho, as a true seeker of virtue and obedience, u mastered Aramaic. Go ahead. It's fine too, and way closer to the word of the Lord ur God, than all the altered and manipulated ‘translations’ of later ages.

When watching that video, it’s hard for me to believe Sarah is singing about the Virgin Mary. Even when i heard her singing “Ave Maria” in Vienna last year, i had the same feeling. Look at her? Can’t u feel it too? This has nothing to do with a blessed woman, chosen to carry the kid of ur God. It’s about seduction, unbridled sex, passion, lust, and the desire to devour the other. It’s the song of the Siren! It’s an ode to Lilith! Or………Maria Magdalene?


Btw......any idea, what the background of my collage stands for?

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


My heart was crushed
And silently
Fell down in pieces
To the abyss of my soul

I bled black liquid
Meandering slowly
From my body to
The bottom of my life

I screamed in bitterness
Cursing the deity
Who claims to be
The source of love

The crusts of open wounds
Were re-opened
By smiling saints
Trained to torture

My eyes reddened
From tears of anger
Stimulating my rage
And lust to destroy

I ordered my soul
To hate again
To abandon peace
To live renewed

Saturday, October 31, 2009


Fantasy? Reality? A mix of both? U be the jury and the judge, but i like it. It's a kind of a comedy, and yet it's not. It put a smile on my face, and also turned me on. Indeed this vid is miles away from the usual crap.

After watching it, ask urself if it did anything to u (or for u, lol), and if so, what was it? When did u feel the first itching, or didn't u feel anything at all? Which of the actors would u love to be in real life? Perhaps u would like to bring in a third party, and be that one?

R there any of u out there , who would dare (or crave) to come forward here, here in this blog, and tell me about ur feelings, ur fantasies, or who knows.............real life experiences in the realm of fetish and d/s?

Monday, October 26, 2009


Where innocence poisons
A virgin’s vomit
Impotence is sweet
Like the scum of the Earth

Where honesty is preached
Liars r gathering
And heroes

Where corruptive crime
Leaves marks of loyalty
On corroded politicians
The divine is not far

Where love is bragged
In slimy ways

Where did u hide
Love of my life
Eternal slave
When i looked for u

Where were u
Father of my child
The time
I called on u

Where promises r made
Chains must be in place
No space allowed
To move

Where i go
Fear is common now
Where i am
Decay lost its place

Friday, October 23, 2009

The Passion of the Reality Cult

The time my teachers were trying to explain to me, that our beautiful planet has the shape of a soccer ball, speeding in circles (kind of eh) around the sun, and not that of a plank, hanging around in unknown territory, i felt for those poor bastards sailing the Atlantic with Columbus, knowing that somewhere the ocean had to end in a huge waterfall, taking everybody and everything down to unimaginable depths and fairytale abysses. But i also wondered if these pioneers of the oceans ever asked themselves why the oceans never ran dry that way. Maybe it rained a lot at that time? Or maybe they were just like us, not willing to go beyond the truth of the hour? Must be. U too do believe the Earth is a sphere no? U r sure about that! It’s a known fact dammit. Anybody who would say differently, would considered to be an idiot right? But tell me, what kind of a globe is that, with peaks like the Himalayas, the Alps, or the Andes, with valleys, and troughs going down as much as 30,000 feet? And another thing: The floors in my home r very level, as is the water in my swimming pools. I assure u, it’s very real. How can that be, when i’m living on a sphere?

The time i still went with my daughter to visit the animals in the zoo, she quickly learned that a tiger was not a tiger, an elephant not an elephant, and a monkey absolutely wasn’t interested in being a monkey. Of cors i had taken care she never was taught that Santa Claus was living on the North pole, traveling in mid air by sledge at X-mas time, nor that babies were delivered by storks, or popped up from green acres when the time was right. So maybe that explains her fast learning, that things r not always as they appear to us, and also quite often differ from what is stamped into our belief system by ruthless teachers, moron parents, smartass friends, robotic holy men, or semi sophisticated d/s people populating nowadays the velvet underground.

The time the Greeks invented democracy, they firmly believed that Helios (yep u got that right, he's Euryphaessa's son), every morning, loaded the sun in a carriage, and drove this hot ball of fire along the heavens from the east to the west, unloading it at the end of the day, putting it to rest for the night. Next day repeating this procedure…….. forever and ever. That was pure reality to these famous scholars, and fathers of our political system. Of cors we know better now. So we think.

The time Semmelweis proposed, that death caused by childbed fever could be cut considerably by washing hands in antiseptic fluids, he was declared insane, and imprisoned in a mental hospital, eventho he had shown to his colleagues, and the world, that his methods worked! Years later, the medical reality changed, when Pasteur was able to prove the existence of germs.

The time Einstein developed his theories of relativity, Newton’s laws lost their universality. Now, quantum electro dynamics is challenging all beliefs and reality, about time travel, things existing at different places at the same moment, and even the possibility of being dead and alive simultaneously. R u still there? Good. Btw, quite recently an unknown force was discovered in the cosmos, explaining a lot of the unexplained. Yes, my friends, gravity got a big brother now, and has to step aside a bit to make room for this giant. Ahem...... big brother was among us already for some time u know. The realists just weren't aware of this reality. R u still with me? Great!

The time i entered the virtual world, i.e. the sacred grounds of the late Yahoo 360, and now the more elite deserts of Blogger, i found many who wanted me to finally get a life, to refrain from creating drama, to act less childish, and for once and for all to get real. Naturally they, i mean them purified realist eh, had a life, full of splendor and logic, and real to the bone. And for sure they showed that child behavior is of really poor quality and should be replaced as soon as possible by real mature acting. When real Christians r involved in this, they realistically bypass or conveniently forget for a while the words of their lord and savior (if not master, hehehe), spoken some 2 millennia ago, who invited them to become like children again. Real hypocrisy i'd say.

These wonderful realists never cease to declare, that reality is of supreme importance, attacking all they consider a poser, a fake, or a liar. They want the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them the rest of moron society. Their criterion for reality and truth, is what they belief is real, abhorring even the possibility there could be more than one reality, one truth. They even speak of the real truth, to make it clear to the ignorant and fools around them, how serious they r, how dedicated they r, even ready to die for their mission, their quest, their holy crusade, chasing and condemning the ones who dare to deviate from the one and only reality. Reality to them, is forever. Real is real. Like Kraft's real mayonnaise i think. The rest is unreal, period. To them, nightmares r far from real, while a lovely dream is only deception. To them, Dali’s paintings r unreal, while sunrise/sunset is real. To them concrete is solid, their farts r not, and to acknowledge they themselves, the ultimate realists, mainly r build from water, will take some time. Hmmmm, i wonder if they would accept there’s something beyond the visible spectrum, or that nonconsensual femdom is a brutal reality in their sheltered land of vanilla flavors.

The time these driven purists come online tho, they easily switch from one reality to another, and, not surprisingly, without even noticing same. Suddenly there’s a Goddess, demanding absolute obedience and devotion from e v e r y b o d y, not one second hesitating to instantly leave behind her role of timid secretary, abused mom, or mediocre student, in her dull and frustrating land of 9-5. Now, a henpecked husband transforms himself into a cruel Master, relentlessly spanking noisy damsels in distress, without even touching one inch of skin. Macho men hop around in latex pampers, whipped by strict teenage moms afraid of whips. Vanilla authorities r groveling feminized under the boots of submissive housewives posing as Venus in Furs, and aunt Mary (who.....pssst...... actually is uncle John), sitting in front of her state of the art computer, is riding in full virtual riding gear, spurs and all, a hot shot general wearing his virtual hoof-boots with pride.

I wouldn't want to exclude here those realists, standing firmly in their shaky conviction, that feminine femdom, as described and lived by me, is not really possible, and at best only could be a real fantasy, but probably not even that. In their view a slave has always the possibility to say no, basta, i don't want this, etc etc. A slave should be allowed to protect him/herself by safewords, in case the glorious domme would lose her cool, or goes bonkers from ecstasy or something, during their weekend encounter in her tasteful and cozy dungeon. Yes true and real slavery there, and only there. To enslave someone can only be realized with full cooperation of the potential slave. Otherwise the prospect to enslave would arrogantly walk away, mercilessly leaving the domme behind. That's the reality dammit. And the only possible one at that. Sure, the fantasies of these poor d/s realists tell us a different story, but must be considered completely unreal, no matter the real frustration which comes with it, no matter the ongoing longing to fall into the hands of a woman like me. Their cultural prescribed and accepted roles leave them no other option than to franticly look for inconsistencies in my writings, to qualify same as ultra negative, to find the illogical in it, and to eliminate that gnawing feeling deep down hidden in their corrosive limbic system, that my world could eventually exist after all, completely without their consent, without following the rules of their precious patriarchal logic, and without any respect for common sense. (Oh that reminds me: U really should read -again- my blog: "Da rules & da Dommes". More realistic gems there.)

Should i take these people for real? Of cors i should! And i do! Like any other reality, the virtual reality is a reality pur sang. If only these idiots would refrain from harassing and annoying people whose life outside of Cyberspace is more or less the same as is presented by them in here, and who, unlike these twisted members of the reality cult, have no urge to prove how real they r. If only they would stop spamming the place with real stolen wisdom and really lousy poetry. If only they would stop their endless semi-philosophic discussions regarding their adventuress fantasies in bdsm-country , their fetish encounters in their local saturday night club, and their never ending personality growth, triggered by their silly journey not even their beloved bdsm gurus know where. Oh yeah………and also, if they only would skip these boring and banal declarations of real love. I mean, of really unreal, really fake, and really illusionary love. It would certainly make the online experience more real.

Alas, it will never happen. These fanatics of a one-dimensional reality, at best will occasionally be trying to think out of their narrow box, but will resist, at all costs, to leave the damn thing even for one second. The thing is tho, they don't believe they're really in a box. So why should they leave eh?

Sometimes, when sitting all alone at the beach, getting engulfed by Freud's "oceanisches Gefühl", for a fleeting moment i have a dream, a dream so splendid, so real, and so full of .................. ai no.....i won't do that to y'all, and spare u the rest.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

ὑπερβολή femdom

More than once, i’ve used the hyperbola as a metaphor, to describe the dynamics of femdom in general, and my feminine femdom in particular. Of cors i can’t resist mixing hyperbole and hyperbola, resulting in one confusing hotchpotch. Well, in a way eh, as both have the same roots. Cognates, so to speak. To make it even more exciting, i’m actually referring to rectangular hyperbolas, having no problem calling them orthogonal or equilateral as well. Anyway, this caught the interest of one of the more serious ones among my Cyberspace friends. He even stated : “ so true, so accurate, so desirable…….” This triggered the following story.


Once there were 2 mathematicians. One was extremely dominant, and never could take no for an answer. She was the apex of femininity, and yet harboured inside her the best of masculine power as well. In her youth, she had coldly calculated the risks of descending/ascending the right part of the hyperbola, dwelling now in areas, not visible anymore on any chart. The other one, erratically wandered at the left side of the hyperbola. Well.....he could have been at the right side too, in case she had chosen the left side, but since she wanted to be at the right side, and had no ears for his humble prayers, he had no choice, right? It was rare tho, he would descend, to come near the vertical asymptote. In fact, he even feared to travel along the horizontal one as well. Scared to death as he was, to approach any limit whatsoever. Instead he safely stayed near the crossing of both, a land filled with giggling bimbos, loudmouth wannabes, painsluts, and platonic servants, trying to get the attention of the herd on the other side, where married mistresses, sitting provokingly on their uncomfortable hyperbolical thrones, were having tea with poor money dommes, and eagerly mingling with the boring fetish crowd.

He hated all that. As a mathematician, he knew, what those ignorant morons didn’t know, and never would know. Amidst the cacophony of the noisy ones, he alone could sense the mysteries of the hyperbola, its hidden treasures, its delicious dangers, its seductive powers, and its intense enlightened darkness. He alone was capable of grabbing the symbolism of hyperbolism. At times he even had disturbing dreams of a land , colonized by women, who had no interest at all in his desire to be abused, dehumanized, and punished, when once again, he deliberately had forgotten to put out the garbage, or to do the dishes.

Alas, when waking up from nightmares like that, he franticly clung to that silly vanilla axiom: “Dreams deceive”. Nonetheless, he stayed restless, unsatisfied, and not fulfilled. He vowed, someday he would find the one he was looking for.

A miracle occurred. He found one indeed. Well, so he thought. One he was able to convince, that she was a femdom, a mistress pur sang, one who was eager to punish him for small errors, or for no errors at all. Paradise! And yet……..a gnawing residue of doubt was eroding his happiness. And so, the search went on. And on. And on. Time and again, he did the math, but never was able to act on the obvious, on the only right conclusion. Quod erat demonstrandum became an irritating nuisance, and had lost its powerful & compelling meaning.

And the first one? Oh that one? She’s not so busy anymore with doing math and so. One day tho, she may try to revolutionize the principles of the hyperbola. But only during a lost moment.

Friday, October 16, 2009

At the end

I can't even remember when i heard this music for the first time. All i know is, that it went through me like a double sided sword, and made me very emotional. Since then i listened to it (and played it myself) a zillion times, under very different circumstances in all kinds of places. And although the melody stays the same, i feel more and more enriched, empowered, engulfed, and saddened by it, every next time i'm letting myself float on the waves of this incredible expression of Mascagni’s soul . That’s why i made sure to hear it for a last time, when i depart from this life. At that time, there will be no tears, no mourning, and no speeches. Only an intermezzo.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Faces of Love.....the Faceless One

When still in my wild years, i visited Muzo, and spend some time there with men who i consider to represent the best of the male species. No luxury, not much safety, and certainly no fancy candlelight diners in that region. But we danced, drank, and made love endlessly.

One day, when i came out of my quarters at dawn, a group of fiery men was waiting for me. One of them approached me, embraced me, stroke my hair, and lay, without saying any words, a small package in front of my feet. It contained a trapiche emerald, of a beauty i had never seen b4. I cried my heart out, as i knew what this gift meant to them. I still carry their faces in my heart, and will cherish that gem till i die, and after.

Once i wrote this in Stef’s blog, telling her i gave this emerald her name. I did so, cos i loved her way of writing, the way she looked at life, and also cos she was as crazy about boots as me.

The men i was talking about i loved too. More or less the same way as i loved the 5 men who saved me years ago from getting killed by our mutual enemy. Like the Colombians they were willing to give all they had out of love for me. It’s a kind of love so intense and passionate, it’s hard to describe.

I existed b4 her,
Although i came later.

I carried her,
Cos she gave birth to me.

I kill, torture, and deliver pain,
For i am seeking peace.

I am the paradox in chaos
And crave simplicity.

U can’t comprehend my being,
Yet u want to be my slave.

My existence is infinite,
Still i will end my life.

And u Cmala r me,
While i am u.

This poem i wrote for Carla (aka Cmala), a woman i met in 360, as i never met a woman b4 in this medium. She struggled, fought, and put herself to discussion as i never had seen here. Although she had strong beliefs, she never would impose those beliefs on others. She's unique among the unique ones. She's not here anymore. She chose a different path to express herself. But i still love her.

My daughter called me yesterday. Not cos it was my birthday, not cos she needed money, not cos she was falling apart, and certainly not cos it was one of those commercially sugar coated romantic days like for instance the day of those 2 martyrs going by the name of Valentine, whose adventures later were converted to celebrate romantic love, the sale of chocolates, jewelry, and the yearly slaughtering of a few forests to cover the demand of Hallmark cs, but just to say hello. I love that little brat. Well….um….she would firmly disagree with the latter, as she’s a grown woman now, challenging me already in different areas of life. But, we still love to go out together, play the piano till exhaustion, quarrel about algorithms and the value of males. Once she was in me, one with me. Now she’s as independent as a human can be, although i’m still tempted to guide her once in a while. The bond between the 2 of us is strong, rigid and elastic. In short, i would give my life for her.

Her father was what some people would call, the love of my life. At least i thought he was. He was strong, full of life, and adored me to no end. The way he touched me, triggered an incredible passion in me. We did the craziest things together, and i felt a love as i had never felt b4. But i was very young at that time, still in my teens, and soon would feel differently. In the end i was too strong for him. My personality frustrated his machismo. He couldn’t handle my dominance. He was just a male with a great body, strong arms, and a formidable libido, but too weak to commit to the woman he once vowed to be a slave to. So i dismissed him. My love for him is gone. I loved many men and women after him. Or better put, had passionate sex with them, and not so much feelings of love.

And so i could go on, telling u about my love for chess, and the one man known as Steel, living in my Labyrinth, with whom i’m playing this marvelous game. He’s a very tall and passionate man, almost psychotic. A man with a physical strength as i have never seen anywhere. He would not hesitate to crush anybody’s skull who would try to harm me, and yet he’s a man living in chains, afraid he could kill me if he wasn’t. I love him.

I could tell u again about my love for leather, boots, and rubber. I could go on telling u about my love for whips, and the fury that comes over me when whipping a man or woman till exhaustion. I love slaves who can endure these whipping sessions with me, and crave to go with them into the singularity when their endurance makes place for an all consuming addiction, not being able anymore to go on living, without being whipped by me. The feel of a single tail in my hand, the sight of a longing slave, hanging from the ceiling, awaiting the explosion of my hunger to take him or her to the next level of ecstasy and love making, is something nobody should try to take away from me, as it would equal a traumatic suicide!

I love so many things, not in the least myself. Some people (here), believe my ego is blown out of proportions. I guess mostly cos their own ego is so tiny and small. Little do they know about me making love to myself, having sex with myself, the lust it triggers when i touch myself, the satisfaction and peace that comes with same.

And yet....there’s another love, a love that surpasses all i described till now. No matter all the passion i had and have with others, no matter the intense love i feel for myself, there’s one beyond all that. Or better, there was one. It was the love i had with Shirah, the one from my blog: “HaMa’eiven Yavin”. She’s dead, died in my arms, and yet she’s not. She’s living somewhere. In the afterlife, in my belly, in the sky, in the trees, in the……. I feel her close to me. I sense her far away. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. But i don’t think so. When i look at my hands, her blood is there. I can hear her cry. I can hear her laugh. I can feel her pain. My heart breaks when i remember her dying eyes still trying to lock onto mine, her weakening body seeking a last hug. When i touch myself it’s like if she is touching me. When i brush my hair, it’s as if i’m brushing hers. I can remember everything we did together, the short time we were existing only for each other. She knew what i thought, felt, or wanted. Still does. I could read her mind even when she was asleep. Just looking at each other was enough to know what love is. Raw and bloody like fresh slaughtered meat, pure, naked, tender and soft like a new born kitten. I wanted to be so close to her, that i once asked another woman to put us face to face into heavy inescapable bondage. It was so strict that we couldn’t move at all, only able to look at each other, breathing each other breath, glued together for hours, our bodies slowly becoming one, our souls merging.

When i’m visiting her grave, i can’t leave, although i know she can’t be in it. Without her i feel as if part of me is not at home, although i know she’s there. A love that’s devouring me, and yet is making me walk on clouds. She was taken away from me, but i will get her back. I will find Shirah. And we will love again. Maybe tonight.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Les précieuses ridicules et les bourgeois gentilhommes d’Internet

I never spoke to monsieur Poquelin face to face, and yet i’m certain he would roll over in his grave from laughing, the moment he would lay eyes on this blog. Like me, he loves to ridicule and mock the ones whose beliefs, wants, and behavior, r so determined and predestined by their cultural settings, that they only can pretend to be, or to become, someone they’ll never be. Not that these people would ever acknowledge this, oh no. They take themselves very seriously, convinced they’re examples of virtue, pillars of society, and carriers of culture. Of cors, they’re the ones with completely open minds, and an unequalled zest to rigidly embrace, absorb and support, rusty new ideas ad infinitum… ………till their brain falls out from their ignorant moron skulls. One of their greater assets, is to contaminate their environment with clichés and plagiarism in the politest of ways, and overflowing from slimy love for their willing audiences.

Take for instance the ones so close to us, i.e. the ones residing on our friends list of the ever expanding virtual social networks. In short: our friends. Not that all of them really would be friends eh? But then again, who would dare to define friendship? Well……..they do. Oh yes. True seekers for the ultimate definition, that’s what these champions of morality r. With a never ending stream of hollow and empty words, larded with the simplest of graphics, and an avalanche of windings, they come and tell us about true friendship, never ending love, absolute trust, real honesty, and sickening tolerance. Ad nauseam, they spam the place with sugar coated crap, stolen from other spammers, or so called love & hug poets. Without knowing the first thing about us, they never stop to declare their love for us, never cease to tell us they’ll always be there for us, and never refrain from winking, hugging, smiling, pinching, and stalking us on a daily basis, at times from hour to hour, sometimes unloading a bulk of hugs in one time, giving tribute to that immortal evergreen: ‘Oh oh oh oh, I’m the Great Pretender’.

Considering the endless complaints in Cyberspace about fakes & posers infesting our once pure cyber world, one should think, the good people would ignore, delete, and remove these creeps. But…….it seldom happens, as good people often happen to be true friends as well, joyfully spamming the place themselves, while happily exchanging sweet nothings with other members of the SpamClan. Heartwarming that, and a great escape from the grim reality at home.

It’s even worse! I met many citizens of Cyberia, who got a nervous breakdown, or an attack of diarrhea, once they discovered their true friends weren’t friends at all. The signs were there, the flags were up, the sweet breezes of hoax were preceding the storms of deception, and thundering voices were whispering: “He’s a liar, she’s not ur friend, she will abandon u, he will leave u to the sharks”. But why listen? Better deny what’s right in front of u, right? Then, blame the crooks ......…….. feel victimized, and in need to leave this immoral Valley of the Dolls , to recuperate far from Yahell’s Place, in an oxygen tank full of fresh air. Sneaking back in again later of cors, preferable with another exotic or trite alias, longing for some repeat business. Yep, a new trend in masochism is dawning, stimulated by the IT era. Rofl!

Then there r the Content Junkies. Not that they would add to the world’s knowledge databases, deliver intriguing questions, or shine from sparkling originality. They have better things to do. They want us to know about what’s boiling inside them. They feel like a volcano. They want to erupt. They want to share, share, share, not only with their true friends, but the world as a whole. But no drama eh? No, no, no, absolutely not. No drama! Not ever! Period!! What u say? Melodrama? Well, perhaps. But only if u tell them that they're growing, making progress in conquering their dark side, and that they r what they pretend to be. To exist, they need ur support, ur loyalty, ur unconditional love for their nonsense, and certainly not ur criticism. That’s what true friends r for no? So it is written, and so it is done.

Now and then, it itches me to go on a page like that. Of cors with only honorable intentions, and true curiosity, to find out about what’s cooking there. Often the blogs in ContentJunkieLand contain a lot of exploring, searching, and discovering of the True Self of its owner. Not that the owner would restrict him/herself to his/her own ego or stirrings of the soul. Come on. That would be selfish no? To be selfish, or egocentric in ContentJunkieLand, is against the rules, against holy protocol, and out of the question. To share, share, share, that’s what it’s all about in that country of milk and honey. And what is the best way to share? To generalize of cors, to give away freely what’s only urs, and to ram it down the throats of ur loyal supporters, who hungrily await to get back what they gave u. Dumping one generalization after another, yeah, that’s the thing to do! Claiming ur statements have universal value. Or not claiming that, but nevertheless creating the illusion that u do. Who cares? Well, i do. Me the minority. The truth? Logic? Discussion? Proof? Content? Hahahahaha! From what planet r u, asking stupid questions like that? It’s all about ego-tripping. Yep, that's what it is. It’s completely unimportant if people would read ur stuff or not, to grasp its essence, to know if it’s fiction, non-fiction, or plain garbage. The only thing that matters is sharing, feeling close to each other, even if that would be in the sewer.

Don’t ever dare to go on pages like that with the purpose of asking questions, and certainly not on those where ur presence could give the mispoche hanging out there, the idea u could be criticizing the sacred words of the queen (hmmm, or king) owner. The results will be devastating, even earth shattering, if not resetting the Earth’s axis. It will be no picnic, i tell u. And i can tell, as i went through minor disasters like that many times. Not that i would go out to criticize. Far from that. I’m not the type for that. Too civilized i guess. But….. just asking sweet and innocent questions, without any second agenda in sight, is already creating havoc, at times even making rookie white knights climbing their crippled horses, to revenge their angered virtual Dulcineas. And the owners themselves? Oh, it varies, lol. Some try to keep their cool, and lose it anyway. Some end up calling me names, curse me, or put a spell on me. I even had one, who sent me a Voodoo doctor. Others vanish from the face of the Earth. Some call their Mom. Or r they only pretending?

To conclude, here’s a nice one from another giant who loves to ridicule and mock the clones of society: Herr Heine.

Doch die Kastraten klagten,
Als ich meine Stimm' erhob;
Sie klagten und sie sagten:
Ich sänge viel zu grob.

Und lieblich erhoben sie alle
Die kleinen Stimmelein,
Die Trillerchen, wie Kristalle,
Sie klangen so fein und rein.

Sie sangen von Liebessehnen,
Von Liebe und Liebeserguß;
Die Damen schwammen in
Tränen Bei solchem Kunstgenuß.

What's that? U don’t understand German? What a shame. Consider criticizing me. Or beg me, to upload a translation.

Sunday, October 4, 2009


They came for me,
A wounded shadow
Tortured and abused
Crippled and lost

There were five of them.
Like thieves in the night
They stole me
From the enemy

The same roots we had
Entwined in Earth
With branches to embrace
The sky and hurricanes

Resting in strong arms
I felt at home
They cleared the way
Avoiding death

They came for us
To hunt us down
We killed them all

My trees r no more
They fell
Others will arise
To claim their land!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

I like women who..........

no matter their age or body shape, radiate sensuality, elegance, and class

never compromise, nor compete

love to seduce, and be seduced

rather skip a few meals, than refrain from buying crazy footwear

can’t stand formal riding clothing, but love to wear jeans and rubber riding boots instead

know how to handle fire arms, but also r skilled to fight without holding a gun

refuse to dance in less than 5” heels, preferring 6”. Exception: Bare feet

feel relieved when the bull kills the matador

believe that pms gives them extra rights

without any problem can contradict themselves, feeling great about it too

r addicted to leather, rubber, boots, whips, very wide belts, and steel collars

love to make males crazy from lust, then dismiss them

never follow fashion trends, but can’t stay away from fashion weeks

abhor cruelty toward animals

can passionately enslave a piano, or another instrument

have a drive to excel in anything they undertake

can sit on their hair, cut it short, and feel sexy either way

r lazy to the extreme, and still accomplishing a lot

get a thrill from driving fast, and never r caught for speeding

r hard as nails, able to spread infinite cruelty, and yet display tenderness and care

love to be silly, throwing all logic out of the window, and walk in the rain till soaked

have no desire at all, to rule the world

always r ready to laugh or cry with me, while holding hands, or being whipped by me

know that pantiliners and tampons r a curse, no matter what the commercials

Monday, September 28, 2009

The Witty People

It’s amazing how many witty people there r online. Especially in guestbook sections one can encounter this breed by the zillion. Always cheerful, alert, sharp, and of cors full of………wit. And mind u, they r never as cynical or sarcastic like urs truly. Oh no! They would hate to be like that. On the contrary, these people r always in a good mood, absolutely positive, and ready to get u out of the rut if ur in it. Not that they would care about ur rut, but they just can’t stand to be in the company of others who have a bad day or so. So out of the rut u go. Instantly. No bad things allowed. Period. U really feel down and out, miserable, and in tears u say? To hell with u! They don’t care. U r a danger to their mood. U r a pest. That’s what u r. How come u even dare to tell u feel off! Life is way too short for being down. Up u go, whether u like it or not. Down is out. Wit is in. Even when it’s lousy, slimy, or stinky, it’s in! Keep that in mind loser!
Wit goes up to a next level when it appears in a blog. It’s called humor then. Not that i would know, or diagnosed it as such, but i was told it was. Not all humor is created by the Witty People themselves tho. Oh no, far from it. Respected scholars, scientists, and statistical gurus found that at least half of it belongs to other jokers. It seems to be hilariously witty and laughable common to steal, steal and steal some more. U say that’s wrong? Muahahahahahaha!!! Come on, where have u been? This is the 21th century people. The century of progress, and shaaaaaaaaaaaaring. As long as it is witty, gets a good laugh, and is dripping from humor, who’d give a shit about giving credit to the witty one who came up with it in the first place, who wrote that joke, story, or lyrics. Old fashioned crap that. Today's morals r much better. Way more witty too. The internet is free u know, u can take what u want. It’s urs. All of it.

Some of the Witty People, r a class apart. Not that they would be more classy than the ordinary witty ones, or their talents would earn them a separate classroom in the school of life, but cos they r exceptional sensitive to wit and humor coming their way as a reaction to their witty productions. Not that they would object u being witty on other people’s sites, no no no, they even welcome that, and would eagerly join u in outwitting a third party. But on their page? Geeeez, who do u think u r? A Witty One? Don’t u ever dare to criticize these chosen ones, or u will be sorry! U will be condemned, and censored in awfully cruel ways. Ur messages, comments, no matter how witty or humorous the may be, will be removed, deleted, crushed, and trampled by them instantly, and to make things worse, u will be removed from their list without mercy! So consider urself duly warned now. Don’t go where i went, and will go hereafter again and again. I’m a lost case u know. I’m addicted to provoke and tease the Witty People. I’m their prisoner so to say. I can’t help myself anymore. But u can! U r still free. Be wise, and never disturb the Witty People with ur silly wit or state of the art humor! Just adapt, and agree. Oh, and praise them. Tell them how wonderful they r. Yes, flood them with praise. Swamp them with adoration. Make them a pedestal, a throne, a sewer. That will do it. That will secure ur stay on their crappy site.

I can’t resist to tell u about a not so recent adventure of mine regarding the subject at hand. But i won’t tell u the name of this Witty One, cos it was Jenna, a former Yahoo 360 friend, who later became one of my critics, and although she once told me she wanted to be my slave, never had the courage to meet me r/l. Anyway, at that time, she posted a story about world history in a condensed form. Beer and the invention of the wheel, were the most important landmarks of mankind (as if anybody didn’t know!). The intriguing part was this one: In the end there were two (only 2 eh) kind of people, namely conservatives and liberals. Conservatives r of cors the productive ones in society, while liberals r only goofing off, and living from the good thing these great conservatives were providing for. In short: Conservatives? Yeah......applause! Liberals? Yuck…..r u kidding me?

Btw, to keep things in their right perspective, i should mention that Jenna embraces conservatism. Also that she’s constantly trying to be witty. Something we rarely see with conservatives these days.

While the story by itself was quite entertaining, witty and humorous, it wasn’t hers. She….. um….. well ….. ok …….. borrowed it

Here’s my second comment on it, as my first one was removed very quickly, as was of cors the second one, rofl.

Caramba, i could swear i posted the following already! But as Yahoo's ways r a bit inscrutable these days, here's a repost, as i know u wouldn't want to miss this for the world. Ok, okay, a tiny part of it (sigh).
In their relentless quest to at least be seen as conservative sons and daughters of the ancient ones, nowadays conservatives want to produce at least something too. Lacking the creativity of named ancient ones tho, they created copy/paste, and r copying/pasting ever since.
The liberals? I’m not sure, but according to modern day scriptures found by conservative archeologists in the hidden cellars of the Watergate Barn, they too r desperately copying/pasting, but only material that was copied/pasted by the conservative ones already.

U might ask: “What on earth r these liberated conservatives and conservative liberals copying/pasting all the time?” The answer is: “Stuff from The Other People”.

Of cors without even having the slightest idea of who The Other People r!

Witty huh? And was gone (sob sob) 

Keep on smiling folks. Behold, be careful with ur humor tho!

I really love this vid, hehehe.

Friday, September 25, 2009

In the Name of.............

It’s said a lot: In the name of God, justice, national security, Jesus, the Fatherland, friendship, peace, the king, the Holy Ghost (er….. Spirit, ), love, science, the other ( as defined by Finkelkraut), honor, the law, human rights, nature, progress, freedom, ……….well u name it.

I’ve decided to dedicate a few words to this phenomenon. I picked some of the subjects mentioned above, to pester u with my thoughts, spread out over several blogs, all recognizable by the same intro-collage (a real beauty this time), but carrying a different number. A video (at times more than one) expressing my feelings and illustrating the prose i wrote, will also be uploaded.

Of cors, i could have done all and everything in one giant blog, but knowing how busy, impatient, and lazy some of u r, i refrained from such action, honoring at the same time ur limited span of attention.

R u still with me? Ok, here goes # 1.


From early childhood i remember i had lots and lots of friends. After school, my parents’ house was almost always filled with them till dark. I was taught what friends were for, and how i should cherish them, no matter what, as friendship was golden. And so it happened i did a lot of foolish things in the name of friendship, even blundered occasionally. Many times i covered for them, when they were totally wrong. Many times i fought their battles, when they were lacking the courage to defend themselves. Many times i took the blame for their unruly behavior. Yeah, I was one of those who came in and stayed, when all others were leaving. I did all this with a conviction worthy a better cause, as i learned during the years that friendship often was not a two-way street, and more than once is kept alive out of egoism, fear, and dogma.

Passing on to my teens, i wrestled with my upcoming sexuality, which differed considerably from what i was taught about it by good willing authority figures, experiences told to me by my friends, and my disgust for the vanilla world, where too many had made it their calling and quest, to gently force me to accept their way of living. The more i battled and criticized these guardians of culture, these carriers of ultimate wisdom, the less gentle, and more violent they became. My friends tried, in the name of friendship of cors, to convince me too, that i was on the wrong track. Slowly but surely they left/abandoned me. I was no fun and too weird, i wanted too much from them, i worried way too often, and was slandered when i showed them how rotten their friendship actually was, when the heat was on, or when they truly had to sacrifice something in the name of friendship.

Long b4 my eighteenth birthday, i mingled with people who belonged to what some r calling the velvet underground. Troubled vanillas usually use the term "kinky" for members of that world, especially when gossiping about people with my sexual preferences, or others whose sexual behavior they r afraid of. To my surprise, i soon discovered that, when it comes to friendship, the kinky ones actually don’t differ much from the vanilla crowd. Hypocrisy all around. Yes, sure, of cors u r my friend, but only when u scratch my back. And mind u, u must always be there for me. So that’s what friends r for? Really? Gee, i hate friendship. I’m sick and tired of it.

More years past, i traveled the world, met zillions of people, went through glory and hardship, suffered physically as well as mentally, experienced passions i never thought possible, tried to live in the name of friendship again and again, honoring an avalanche of definitions of same, and mostly fell flat on my face.

Then, one day, in my mid thirties, completely tabula rasa, i innocently wandered into Cyberspace. Such horror! The place was infested with friends. Like cockroaches they inhabited even the remotest corners of the ever expanding virtual universe, i.e. social networks ruled by greedy vanilla corporate empires, screaming “I love you”, “I will always be there for you”, "I will have your back", and all the other clichés (including stolen sugar coated poetry) i had to absorb r/t ad nauseam already. Yuck, yuck, yuck! And u know what? It was applauded, as if it was real, as if it was meant, as if it had substance. Well maybe this caricature friendship is uplifting to some, is what some seek in their life, but it’s not for me.

Sure, i met a few men and women in here, who had thoughts like i had on the matter, and that was great. But they too were mostly unable to keep up with me. Granted, i’m not an easy one. I love to provoke, to put people to the test, and to challenge even the most sincere and strong ones. Guess that comes with my territory, huh? But mostly our friendship wrecked, cos i rocked their boat too much, cos in the end they too were looking for harmony, for a rosy world without conflict or antagonism, where lovers and friends r resting in each others arms, even when they want to go out jogging. Caramba, even within the realm of femdom they expected that! Yep, that’s what recreational slaves want. That’s their utopia. That’s what friends r supposed to be. Not that they ever would admit this, or even would consider the possibility, lol. For that they were way too angered by my behavior, and never expected me to criticize them after so many exciting exchanges of thought, after having been on the same wavelength for so long. Suddenly not agreeing, was too damn shocking. The ordeal to discover i was not the friend they thought i was, made me an enemy.

Oh btw, ever noticed that ur friends rarely stand by u publicly, when there’s a conflict or collision with others? Only when u and they belong to the same clique or something, some bravery is shown at times. For the rest u r alone. Gives significant substance to: “I will always be there for u” no? Rofl. And let me tell u: Beware of those who vow they will have ur back, as they never will.

So what to do? I still felt friendship could be of value.

Albert Camus once wrote: L’amour est injustice, mais la justice ne suffit pas (love is injustice, but justice doesn’t suffice). And so it is with friendship. Contrary to what many preach and believe, love and friendship r twins. That’s right......twins! That's what i had learned during my travels. Maybe not identical ones, but still twins. Ok, u wisecracker: cousins. Both should be driven by passion, and not by dogmas, rules, rigid expectations, or boring cultural paradigms. That way, love and friendship, and also friendship and love, can be fantastic, something to pursue for the rest of ur life, something u never would want to be without.

Welcoming also (not only accepting ), that friendship and love, and also love and friendship, can be harsh, utterly annoying, devastating, and incorporating even the desire to kill ur beloved one(s) and dearest friend(s) sometimes, will be the icing on the cake. Admitting, that i was able, capable, and wishing at times to destroy even the closest soul mate, soul slave, and soul sister, set me free from all the superficial nonsense about love and friendship that the adorers of harmony and coercion tried to implant in my belief system.

Yes, i will be there for my friends. But not in the name of friendship! And yes i will slap them, mock them, and make them feel miserable, when i believe they deserved it. But i will not call them names. I will not belittle them. I will not humiliate them. I will not dismiss them. I will not slam the door into their face. And i certainly will not abandon them.

Come to think of it...........friendship and femdom r twins as well.