Archive for April, 2008

Summer Camp part II

April 28, 2008

We were three counselors and a head counselor for the subgroup of nine mentally and physically challenged female campers from age 25 to 69. From a previous post, you’ll remember that the head counselor was also my summer love. Seeing her lately reminded me of everything that I learned during those weeks which made me the physical being I am today.

 

See, I didn’t just fall in love with L-. My sexual attention was devoted to her, and she knew it, but my heart was all over the place.

 

At the camp, you have three categories of subgroups: autonomous, semi, and multi. Multi campers require constant attention. There’s a ratio of one counselor to one camper. Our nine campers were semi: they weren’t able to express their needs, but once you got to know them, you learned to anticipate them. Along with the simple but magical activities that we invented for them (theatre, crafts, bals- we danced with them by pushing their wheel chairs) we also provided daily care. I lost a lot of weight and had back aches: several times a day, we performed transfers: for example, from the bed to the wheel chair: you have to bend over the person while she’s lying on her bed, put an arm under her back and the other arm under her knees, lift her and place her on her wheel chair, and the maneuver is different for each camper because most of them have different skeletal deformations, so you have to make sure you don’t hurt them. Other transfers were from wheel chair to toilet seat (many many times a day) and back, but the hardest were transfers to the bathing tub because they required us to bend even lower. Those transfers made me love my body for what it had the strength to do. These simple acts made me realize how much I love the human body. It’s so far from what you could think- that I was ever interested in seeing naked women in a position of vulnerability and total dependency. No, never, and you could only understand if you were there. It’s the bond that we created. It’s not because they are mentally challenged that they don’t realize that you are stepping inside their intimacy when you are changing their diapers or giving them baths. And they let you in. And you have to deserve it and prove yourself up to the task.

 

During those moments, I learned to adapt myself quickly like never before. My favorite camper was the eldest: she was 69. Every morning I would wake up earlier so I could pick the camper I would provide morning care for, and I always picked her. See, she probably didn’t remember my name or didn’t really understand the words I spoke to her, but we had the simplest and most pure friendship. Every time I bent over her, she would stick her tongue out and lick my nose and laugh hysterically like if she just caught me off guard. Anyone who would stick their tongue out in direction of my face would probably get a slap before they even got near. But with her, I always felt it coming, and the other counselors laughed every morning- it was our little thing. Campers are not booksmart, but their communication skills are unique. The one morning that she didn’t lick my nose, I knew something was wrong. I didn’t hear her laugh once that day, and it worried me. I brought her to the doctor on the site and she found nothing was wrong. I gave her extra attention for the rest of the day, I played in her hair, I danced with her, and when we went swimming, I was the one who held her. The next morning she licked my nose and I knew it was better.

 

The human body is capable of so many things, and communicating is the most precious. Every counselor could tell you this; your body is a tool you have to use to make campers feel better. What happened with the campers had nothing to do with sexuality, yet, it was tender and affectionate. They looked forward to bedtime when we would stroke their hair and talk to them. For no other people I would climb on stage and pretend I’m a lion while I’m pushing a wheelchair and pretending the camper who’s in it is a mosquito I’m chasing while singing camp songs.

 

The heart is a muscle; once you use it, it grows bigger, it hypertrophies. And when you get back to real life, even if you ignore it for a while, it’ll never shrink back to the size it was before. I carry these women everywhere with me. That’s probably why I’m still so attracted to L-, the head counselor. Because she reminds me of everything I am at my weakest and strongest. And even though I’m not an emo lover anymore, even though I’m sometimes cold and act like a heartless bitch looking for clients, she knows I care. She’s the only one who knows me and sometimes I hate her for it.

alternative to facebook

April 22, 2008

why do porn when you could do real life?

artsy, provocative, elegant, NUDE, celebrating diversity: http://www.beautyandsin.com/home.php

one of my favorite profiles: burmohini
http://www.beautyandsin.com/photo.php?id=538

sex, religion, advertising

April 17, 2008

freedom of expression allows provocation
FLIRT VODKA CAMPAIGN
http://www.peshtera.com/?lang_id=3&prm=products&cat_id=4

translated from Bulgarian:
‘She said she would need a longer time to choose’
Flirt Vodka 2

 

‘Keep the Memories’
Flirt 1 

 

‘Are you ready for your angel?’
Flirt Vodka 3

 

alcohol and religion…
The Bible says that Noah planted a vineyard after the flood. Then got drunk. Later on it says that Noah lived for 900 years.

 

Self-destruction part I

April 17, 2008

 

Step one : pick the one guy who won’t have you
Step two: wait
Step three: forever

Alternative

Step three/plan B: switch to girls and pretend you’re in a homosexual phase anyway.

 Step three/plan C: apologize for something you didn’t do… for that you have to have a heart, and offer it in a gift wrap, and be prepared to have it ripped open, torn in hard but mushy pieces that will never fit together again and will probably bleed all over the place and drown the sorrow you thought was already drowned in tears. That’s if you have a heart.

How plan B did not work:
So this girl I was in love with, like, way too long ago, sent me a horny email.

So I’m thinking: can’t have the penis, try other penises. When great penises don’t come with OK brains, spend time with friends (uh, which also happens whatever health of sex life), and also answer horny email.

Which I totally misinterpreted. Coucou, j’ai rêvé à toi hier soir was more like I’m in town and I want someone from the past to come play with my hair while we talk about the past and maybe drench the pillow with tears and other liquids of non-sexual nature. Geez, you’re already testosterone-challenged, work and make up for it. It’s not that I don’t love breasts and firm butts, because I do, but maybe mine are enough for now. I’d even choose pretty metrosexual boys over that. Seriously, the messed-up version of a female brain is not the reason I dropped in your hotel room wearing the little black dress and no bra or underwear. Girl, suicide will never be an option, stop making people consider it.

Ghosts from the past, no matter how hot they’ve gotten, and how many hours you spent masturbating to the thought of them/having sex with someone from the opposite sex to the thought of them, should stay in the past. 

I still felt this involuntary primal response that makes the heart race and palms moist. But I had to suffer the whole ‘I don’t recognize you. Why don’t we click anymore. You changed. And you’re not even attracted to me anymore’ gna gna gha gha brrr Oh did you say anything? So sorry, I was too busy waiting for you to undress. And after all that emo soup, she asked if I was in the mood. Anything but. Sex is like air; it’s not that important, unless you’re not getting any. I waited for her to freshen up, I kissed her and left. Which leaves me the option to come back later. With tape, earplugs and other goodies. Once she’s cooled down with her lesbian expectations.

      
Plan C… not happening. I do have a heart, it’s just that I like to think that my brains and vagina pump most of my poor anemic blood. Thus it leaves my heart, well, working full-time for useful organs.

daily confession

April 14, 2008

Speaking of desensitization (previous post); well, it does not happen. In a week, the long P and I have covered more than I ever have with previous partners. I don’t know what he’s going to teach me next.

So I don’t know/care to what level he thinks we’re close, because we’re not, but he started talking during sex. I guess it’s his way of keeping my attention in between orgasms. He’s good. If anyone can ask me to cum again, it’s him. And he did. Hot and confident, but not too much. But it made me start to laugh hysterically, with his face so close to mine. Like, I could not stop laughing. He pulled off and I sat upright to laugh. His ‘come again’ made me think of the old asian guy working at the convenience store close to my place. Tank you, come agayne?!  Try to explain that to a new lover. I skipped, and proceeded to come again, while I kept my face buried in the couch arm so I could continue laughing. He tried to ignore it and thrusted harder. Daaaamn, the guy is long and patient. I felt ridiculous so I gave him head a couple of minutes later, but I had to stop because I couldn’t stop hearing the voice in my head. Pleeease, come agayne?! I think my body won’t vascularize the brain and the v at the same time. Of course I went on. At least leave a good last impression… If I ever see him again, I’ll just smile from afar. if I ever hear from him again, it won’t be while doing it. Anyway, I think we’ve had enough for a whole month.

He must think I’m a very happy person. mouths should be kept too busy to talk/laugh when getting busy. I hope he doesn’t think I’m retarded. I know I would.

Emails.

April 13, 2008

The year has been way too heterosexual so far. I hit the jackpot of dramas and their penises. In sexual relationships, tensions don’t hit the heart: there is no such muscle. They hit right in the ego. But the damage is reversible. However, the problem can’t also be the remedy, no matter how good it tastes. You become desensitized. It’s time to look around.

 

A quick call, and my V met the world’s longest P. Note to self: building relationships while I don’t care about the size of their sexual attributes (friendship) can prove fruitful in time. No need to even compare. Longest and… thinnest. Can’t have everything. Like a pen, but more like a 2D very long pen. The thing hurt. Like when you’re too full. That’s what I thought, until my arms started to hurt too, not from the moves that were my shy answer to my new mister does-it-all, but actually the pain came from the three travel vaccines I had gotten previously that day: one in each arm, and one at the thigh. The fact that it did not hurt right away at the clinic should have hinted that it would creep up when most appropriate. Needless to say the band-aids that proved those darlings were a great pretext and proof that I needed to end belly-up…who needs two people on top anyway. Classical does not mean boring, and can be and was source of (multiple) enjoyment. Perhaps I should tip him.

 

To be honest, my mind was somewhere else. It’s a bad habit I’ve been developing this year. When even the longest P doesn’t compare with reading an email, that means the email was sinful.

 

I think the good lovers are those who can grasp what’s going on in your mind. And The Best Lover knew exactly where to hit: an email. Maybe it was the timing (a friend I really cared about just insulted me real bad and I was already starting to miss him), or maybe it was that it was a total surprise, but the simple ‘Coucou, j’ai rêvé à toi hier soir’ (Hey, I dreamed about you last night) turned me upside down. Must have been a nice dream.

 

She knows me enough to know that I thought about her all day the next day, and even though I had to concentrate on studying and thus needed food and caffeine, I couldn’t get anything in. Even my stomach was thinking about sex.

 

And I knew her, that sentence was not to be taken as corny cheezy à la Marvin Gaye. It was daring and proud, it was there and not to be ignored, a bit like her butt. It was more like Coucou, je te veux demain soir (Hey, I want you tomorrow night) or even Coucou, je t’aurai demain soir (Hey, tomorrow night, I’ll have you). Even after a year and a half of not seeing her, she’s the only one I would make place for on my planned to-do list during finals. (The long P has developped a habit of just popping in: the door is usually open. We don’t plan, we just do. We’ll get tired of each other soon. It’s like having prime steak every night; it’s tiring for the mouth and for other organs. No matter how you have it. That’s why we have vegans and chastity underwear).  Maybe I’m idealizing the only girl I’ve ever really been with, or maybe I’m just bored of penises and their owners, all I know is that she was delicious and I could not feel too full with that.

 

We were the two people on top type of pair. So I didn’t answer yet.  I have a Suis-moi je te fuis, Fuis-moi je te suis complex, which is only good for breakup sex. Shouldn’t be bad for one-time reunion sex either.

What is up with Tom Ford?

April 1, 2008

Truly a man’s man, Tom Ford is ex-Gucci now running his own design shindig. That isn’t half as impressive as appearing on the cover of Vanity Fair with Scarlett Johanssen and Keira Knightly (Well dressed, while the actresses were butt naked). If that weren’t enough, his website is perhaps the most impressive I have seen in a while. Although, I must admit it has seen better ad campaigns in past. I was wondering if anyone wanted to venture someone more impressive in the field of sexy? Chuck Norris must be excluded as he is obviously incontestable.