Tag: BDSM

Books

“Before I sputter out”

GuillermoLeave a comment

Life is good
And I feel great
’cause mother said I was
A great mistake

Novocaine for the soul
You’d better give me something
To fill the hole

Exhibit A: Two books by Brian Greene
Exhibit A: Two books by Brian Greene

I’ve a problem. I’m a book addict. I have hundreds of books in my house, and I’ve only read about a fourth of them. And I still buy books, even though I have several unread tomes here. Today I purchased two books (The Elegant Universe and The Fabric of the Cosmos both by Brian Greene) – coupled with the Steve Martin book I purchased yesterday, the text book I purchased over the weekend, the BDSM erotica novel I purchased the same day, a novelization, and the book by Michio Kaku I purchased this morning because carpe diem, librum venator (NOTE: I don’t know Latin; I used Google translator for the second half of that phrase). I’m a book addict and my addiction is worsen when my emotional control has been compromised, which it has been compromised for over a year now. And I don’t see a solution to my problem because the only solutions that are available aren’t solutions, really. So I return to filling the void in my heart by filling up my bookshelves, which are overflowing as it is.

Exhibit B: The Good Book
Exhibit B: The Good Book

Another book caught my attention at Barnes & Noble this afternoon – I find myself unable to muster the urge to come home to nothing these days. A.C. Grayling has compiled (written?) a book he called The Good Book: A Humanist Bible. But because the Brian Greene books aren’t for leisure, I put off purchasing the book until a later date (or when I succumb to my itch).

I love the smell of new books. And I love the smell of old books. There’s something intoxicating about the scent of books that eases me into a sort of high that makes me forget my problems if only for a second. I just know that if something doesn’t turn around for me, I’ll be blowing my paychecks (minus the money I put aside for Shaun) on books until they bury me alive.

 

Doldrums

“I’ve got too many answers to find”

GuillermoLeave a comment

I’ve got too many questions in my mind
I’ve got too many answers to find
Can I give up all I’ve imagined?
Am I imagical enough for this to happen?

Because I like you, I like you, I like you
And like can lead to like like and like like can lead to love
As sure as the stars above, I’d really like to kiss (fuck) you.

Exhibit A: Twitter's a culture, right?
Exhibit A: Twitter’s a culture, right?

I got Twitter-married this weekend. Not only did I get Twitter-married, but I got Twitter-married to erotica author and editor, Alison Tyler. Now, I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this than I should, but just let me have this one, okay? Be honest, this is as close as I’m going to get to the real thing. And that’s a thought that is both depressing and…well, it’s just depressing. Because I’m a thirty-year-old whose biggest relationship accomplishment is…what? Obviously, I don’t count a Twitter-marriage (because I’m not mentally sane, but I’m not Catcher-in-the-Rye-toting insane).

Exhibit B: What's more fake than Fifty Shades of Grey?
Exhibit B: What’s more fake than Fifty Shades of Grey?

As a child, I dreamed about adulthood. A romantic out of the womb, a socially awkward kid who grew into a socially awkward adult who uses phrase like “out of womb.” Chuck Klosterman said it best in his book, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: “I want fake love.” I want the sort of love that we’re conditioned to believe in through RomComs and Sitcoms. And not only fake love, but I want a fake life. I want the sort of life you get when you flip on the TV and see how easy it is to move from high school to college to career. Fuck it, let’s thrown in the entire Americana imaginary life–give me a house with a perfect lawn and a white picket fence with the perfect couple smiling and waving as their perfect kids go off to school so they can go back into the house and break out the BDSM gear. Is it too much to ask for the sexy librarian with the whips and rope?

When I was younger, I used to state that I’d have little life crisis to prevent a mid-life crisis in the future. I surpass them all, as well as, my quarter-life crisis which was pretty anticlimactic as I can’t recall what happen.

Truth is, even though I say I want the girl-the-next-door, or the sexy librarian, or MayKay, or English professor, or the philosopher, or the kinky erotica writer, or the Catholic, or the one I fought for and lost on several occasions, what I want is just someone to love me. And to love someone because they love me and because it’s right and because it doesn’t matter how many times I stumble. Because if I have to fight for a person to love me on a year-to-year, month-to-month, day-to-day basis, is it really worth it? No one’s ever had to fight for me. I either loved them or I didn’t. Simple as that.

Books · Music

Let’s go to a Tea Party

Guillermo1 Comment

It’s probably because Kerli seems to live in Second Life in real life that I like her so much. Or maybe it’s how she infuses bubble gum pop with the Victorian goth ensemble. I don’t know, but I truly enjoy her music. The station I created for Pandora, however, I can live without. No matter, I’ve crammed her songs into my phone to keep me busy while I work.

And now that I’ve segued into the subject of work, I have to say that meeting Jose Canseco – yes, the Jose Canseco – has left me disillusioned. Not that I ever was celebrity crazy, but he was a figure-head from my childhood. It was how my brother and I bonded when he wasn’t shoving me into closets, causing massive years of anxiety.

But the greatest disillusionment comes not from my short experiences of Canseco, but those non-experiences of one Geoff Vlcek. I’m no stranger to this name – G. Vlcek wrote to Wardell Starling of the Edinburg Roadrunners. Unlike Canseco, Starling replied to Vlcek’s request.

Currently, Canseco plays for the United League Baseball team, the Laredo Broncos. And I’m sure we all know the reason he’s playing for a minor league team and not that of a major league, but we won’t get into that. I delivered the letter myself – like the one I delivered to Starling – because it’s my job that the players get mail. However, this was the first time a visiting team gets fan mail. And like Starling’s letter, this one also contained a baseball card and a request that it be signed.

Now, I get it. Baseball players – any celebrity, really – has the right to turn down a request for an autograph. They don’t owe us anything. But Canseco took the asshole route. Rather than sending the card back unsigned, he left it in his locker. I retrieved it, sadden that my childhood hero could be such an asshole. Rather than hunting him down with it to Harlingen, I’m going to return the card to Vlcek with a letter of apology. Not on behalf of Canseco, but from myself.

But the season’s almost over, leaving me pondering the what-nows. I can always go back to writing for extra cash to survive, or I can hitchhike across Texas, looking for work. Or I can do what I do best and read. Which I’ve done a lot of, and plan to do more of. Especially now that I’ve purchased my decadent late summer/early fall reads.

Erotic reads for a decadent mind

The moment I saw the cover for Please, Sir back in May, I knew I had to have the book. Of course, then I learned about the book released that same month by the same editor dealing with erotic tales of female submission. And, while I do like vanilla erotica, the decadent stuff is what really piques my interest. Having already read the first story in Please, Sir, I know this book is worthwhile.

Off to go read the second story. Probably with some Kerli playing in the background.