so, i’m sure i know who did this to me – the attempted murderer. he must have snagged a checkbook from me during our last play session. i keep getting notices from the bank on returned checks on that closed account. i’m sure that’s what happened.
All my dreams are gone
and I can’t sleep
And sleep alone could ease my mind.
All my tears have dried
and I can’t weep
Old emotions may they rest in peace
and dream.
– Paul Williams, excerpted from “Faust” from “Phantom of the Paradise”
a massage is supposed to be a relaxing experience for the client. i just did this massage with a client who almost seemed to get more tense as the massage went along. i don’t even think the client knew that that was happening.
strange.
does every sexual encounter have to involve erections? ok, this is going to be weird, but i had this playtime encounter with a man and i didn’t get erect, and yet i had a great time. he seemed a little disbelieving, though, when i told him so, he responded by saying, “the dick doesn’t lie.”
i don’t know. it seems that i have had some pretty satisfying encounters where i didn’t get off, or on occassion even get hard, but thoroughly enjoyed myself. am i weird in this regard?
I used powerpoint to create a slide show of the lyrics to “phantom of the paradise,” this past saturday’s movie being shown at the Trash Film Orgy. The presentation was 491 slides, with each slide representing a line of a lyric, or a blank slide in between songs or within songs.
I watched the film several times over the past week, using an open-captioned version a friend has, in order to synchronize my advancing of the slides with the songs. I had to do a manual advance, because we weren’t sure what kind of shape the print was going to be in, although we knew from our earlier run-through on tuesday that is was in pretty poor shape.
When the show started, I was sitting at the front of the stage, with laptop and lcd projector sitting upon the edge of the stage. I felt like a human karaoke machine, clicking the mouse button to just be slightly ahead of the music, so the audience could have that split-second to read the lyrics and sing along.
During intermission, we had a wedding of two of the trash film fans. Fat Dead Elvis performed the ceremony. OK, they actually were legally married the week before in Reno or somewhere, but they wanted to get married at the Trash Film Orgy, so we obliged them. It was especialy great when we killed the entire wedding party right after they were married.
So, the show went really well, and we have one left – Trash Til Dawn.
monday night, i swam at chuck and gordon’s place to wash off the stress of lazy bear weekend.
tuesday night, i was at the crest theatre testing out the laptop and lcd projector to superimpose the lyrics to phantom of the paradise onto the screen. it seems to work well. when i get out to the car, parked out back, i find that someone has popped one of my tires. it’s hissing from the sidewall, and i didn’t do anything to cause it. i drive home quickly to avoid having to deal with it downtown. fortunately, i live about 10 blocks from the theatre, so it’s no biggie.
next morning, i go out to deal with the tire and i find that it wasn’t just one tire that was popped, but all four. fuck! that’s going to be expensive. i call around and find the tires i need at a price that i can not afford, but have to. car is towed to the goodyear tire dealer 10 blocks away, and tires are changed.
so, when i go to pay for these tires, the credit card i want to use is declined. that sucks. well, i leave the car there and go home to figure out exactly how to get my car back.
thursday morning dawns, and i do two massages, and get to the tire store, able to pay more cash, and put less on plastic, and i get my car back. hooray!
You are a Urinary Catheter. As unpleasant as some
people find you, others consider you to be a
big turn on. You’re not a one-size-fits-all
friend…you’re just a bit too much for some
people, while others feel strangely empty in
your presence.
What kind of invasive medical instrument are you?
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