Identity

A few thematic descriptors....

out·rid·er (n) 1. A guide; an escort. 2. One that goes in advance; a forerunner. 3. A mounted attendant who rides in front of or beside a carriage (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th edition).

out·li·er (n) 1. One whose domicile lies at an appreciable distance from his or her place of business. 2. A value far from most others in a set of data: “Outliers make statistical analyses difficult” (Harvey Motulsky). 3. Geology A portion of stratified rock separated from a main formation by erosion (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th edition).

out·law (n) 1. a. A fugitive from the law. b. A habitual criminal. c. A rebel; a nonconformist: a social outlaw. 2. A person excluded from normal legal protection and rights. 3. A wild or vicious horse or other animal (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th edition).

...alas, reflecting varying degrees of inclusion.

So, Eros

Feeling connected to fellow humans often eludes me. Nevertheless, I persist...with some success. Recollection brings a few illustrative moments to mind.

Sunday Morning Cocoa

Early Morning Cribbage

[Alas, another posting left unfinished {sigh}]

My "Uncoventional" Perspective

Today I fired off a bit to someone who asked about a current community in which I participate and to which I contribute:

Opportunities to converse without protective censorship brings me to cuddles and more. My socio-sexual verve shines under the policy of explicit consent. However, my physiological and psychological limitations curbs the desire to join a snuggle group...not forever, just for now. So I've chosen to attend regularly in order to give folks the chance to relate to me over time and grant myself the opportunity to step out of my head.

So I wonder, "What's so unconventional about that?" Well, touch is the fundamental theme of most events within this community...but I rarely desire touch despite my need for touch or my expertise in touch. Yet, beyond the chronic physical discomfort of my daily existence, I experience profound pleasure while attending our events, regardless of desire, need, or expertise. For now, that's my best elucidation irrespective of lucidity, heh.

Leah's Lovely Hands

Received a massage today...very overdue. More later.

Official Narrative...

In the interest of "getting it out" I shall begin.

The new stepfather's nephew introduced me to episodic oral sex sometime between my fourth and fifth birthdays. The folks figured that leaving me home with the resident 18-year-old relative worked out pretty well.

[to continue]

Idiot Children of Shiva

Recently participating in a ceremonial party showed me that much of this id's rage directs toward "guys" (i.e., men in name only) regards the stupid, mindless, idiotic crap that has prompted them to touch me. That is, my recollections offer incidents of their "benign intention," thinking that not wanting to "hurt" leaves no damage, but of no accompanying fear for my safety. Such carelessness complicates my fondness for the bastards.

Past as Prologue, eh?

Born female at a military installation in sunny Merced County to parents from the flood plains of the Grand River Valley. Soon lived with successive relations as the cur who sired me mucked around Okinawa as an airman. According to legend, precocious psycho-motor development compensated for disinterest in suckling and established a compulsion to perform. Stories from the dam who whelped me tended toward overcoming injury and sorrow with great regret. Regarding the four elemental emotions...

• Mad was champion

• Sad was disgusting

• Glad was dangerous

• Scared was anathema.

Cessation of existence offered the best remedy to nihilism and narcissism, but purported conditions thereafter promised the same agony yet worse. Reaching beyond my grasp emerged as the best hope for survival. Recreation became wreck-creation, which delivered satisfaction without hope. Consequently, ecstasy remained elusive, while the mind sought all things exquisite.

Logos Before Eros?

Well, not really. By and large, we relate before we conceptualize, in utero and without thought as traditionally defined. However, communicating through the blog platform requires expressing perception as words rather than touches. Ergo, LogosEros here...yet eroslogos within.

For glosses on eros and logos on which I base my expression of perception, please consult the comment section for this posting. Cheers!

Getting Out of My Head...

Please consider an example of "in my head."

Thus far my existential adventure has run rich. The smooth periods flow like ambrosia. The other periods cough like my early Japanese hatchback toward the end of its life.

Now kindly allow me to attempt "out of my head."

What a fucking joke! Gift of life, my ass. Survival seems mighty overrated. Tell me again, why ought I keep breathing? Give me all four F's of the limbic system, pretty please...pretty pretty please.

Well, such is my best at expressing the essence of rage and sorrow while seated behind a keyboard. My difficulty? Dissociation. My brain here. The rest of me somewhere else. "Brainy, brawny, and busty" promises great delights for one's self but instead performs party tricks for an audience.

So, perhaps unloading my memory of bothersome reruns will help me to set aside the intellect and allow sensations to emerge. At this late date, smarts won't help much. Gotta simply clean house. Wish me luck...if you so desire. Cheers!