The Scene

I've been playing in the New York fetish scene for awhile now, I really like it. You should all probably know that about me. I'm a dominant, which means I am capable of and have a penchant for using bdsm equipment, but of course do not go around randomly domming people (unless, of course, they're trying to get me to do something ridiculous, like sit on the floor at a play).

So, don't be scared. And please don't ask me all kinds of inane questions about it, unless you think you're a submissive yourself.

Ode to "Drinking Out of Cups"

Disclaimer: This is a video on Youtube which is utterly hilarious and/or ridiculous, and these are not my words.

What does this guy think he's an Indian?
What is he, a goddamn asshole, what the fuck is he doin’ ?
Not ever…no way.

Now he's…. Johnny Hammersticks.
Hammering away like he's – friggin - Tommy Noble.
What the hell's he doing?

Thinks he's…thinks he’s got it going bossa nova. No way, No-ho – way.
What is this garbage?... What is this?

Oh, I'm… king of the trees, I'm the Treemeister. I count on them. What sometimes I pry got like this steetalist.

Yeah right. Yeahhh right. This guy's a faggot. This guy's some sort of… faggot Indian in the tepee.

Ooh, this guy thinks he's Captain Knots. Thinks he’s Captain Tying Knots. When everyone need some knots tied, they go to him BULL SHIT. BULL SHIT theys - bull -

This woman's such a bitch. Thinks he’s… Miss Sand. Drinking outta cups…. Bein’ a bitch.

How bout her fist. How ‘bout her fatalusk. Barrrnd. Patterscompailll little kid in the background fuckin’ goin’ crayyyzaaaaaay.

Who's this guy? Mista Balloons. Mista Balloon Hands. Mm- No way. No way, get real. Like those things.

Mr. Walkway. Mr. Walk down me, I'm the walkway, lead me to the building. Fuck you.

5643, yeheahhh right! Here’s some stupid bitch. Who paid for that floor? Not me, no way. Never payin’ for no floor ever again. Not once, not never. Nope -Who's chair is that?

Who brought that goddamn chair here? It's not my chair. Not my chair, not my problem, that's what I say. No way. Stupid dresses. Stupid flowers.

Lighthouses rule. You don't like the lighthouse? You suck. What is this, Seahorse Captain? What is this, Seahorse Seashell Party? Who didn't invite me?

Why didn't I get invited, Seahorse Seahell?  What is this? Get real. I'm in love with seahorses. I'm in love with them, they're so beautiful and cute, I'm in love with the seahorses.

They're fuckin’ unreal, I love them. They're like all the clocks. I love ‘em. I love seahorses….and I love looking at 'em…and I love seashells. I love seashell things. I love things with seashells and seahorses on 'em.

Like blankets,
And towels,
And little bags,
I love 'em.

Seahorses.
Foreva.

Realizations

Sometimes, I'm glad no one really reads these things- because I'm about to dish out some corniness. Hold onto your hats, people who are actually reading this and are about to embarrass me just with the knowledge that you have, in fact, read it.

Anyway.

Hardly made any money today, but it certainly was a day of love. Almost everyone I came in contact with said something to the effect of "I love your ass" and it was really cool - it's like the stars were aligned or something.

I don't know why but I suppose this brought out a constant fear of mine: Death. Cliche', I know, fear of the unknown, everyone dies, blah blah blah - but it is utterly terrifying to me, the fact that, as Ted Dansen says "We're switched on and switched off. I don't want to be switched off."

I really don't know how to settle this fear. It's not like spiders, like if I wanted to, I could avoid it. I can't avoid it, man! I have an expiration date and I know this.

The only thing that gives me any kind of solace at all is the research on NDE's. That gives me some kind of delusional hope.

Please for the love of whatever is out there (if anything) do not write me messages about this. It'll freak me out. I just want to tell you about my weird phobia and get it out there, cool?

cool.

-But really, if there's nothing, if we just pop in and pop out, what's the point? if we go through 100 years or what not, learn an unbelieveable amount of things, come in contact with copious amounts of people and situations, we just throw that away? hmm. that seems like a lot of effort on creation's part for not much of a reason. Just saying. Going to go watch "drinking out of cups" now, that seems like the right thing to do.

Uneventful Day

Today was rather calm, did a bit of shopping around chinatown - apparently no one knows what a hula hoop is down there. I found myself miming it for roughly 15 people before I finally gave up. If anyone knows where to find a weighted hula hoop besides Chinatown, let me know!

I watched Public Enemies- fantastic Depp movie. I now understand when women say how dreamy he is. I never quite got it before because unlike a lot of people, I don't have a closeted drunken pirate fetish. But don't worry, guys. Depp is dreamy for the ladies, but there's still lots of "shoot 'em up- oh wait his eye just fell out" moments as well.

There's this moment in the movie where Depp is watching a Clark Gable film, "Manhattan Melodrama" and Gable says, "Die like you lived- all of a sudden."

Who says I lived all of a sudden? I took almost 10 months to come out of there...

Anyway. I've been googling things like "Quarter Life Crisis" lately- although I don;t like the semantics of it. I think it should be called "Quarter Life Questioning" because I feel as if there are so many things left unanswered that, damnit, should be answered!

just a for instance, the whole life/death/does anything come after/yes I've read the bible but it's just an ancient book that was written by no one who could talk to me about it today/who says they weren't just making it all up to control all the wily people/and so on.

Near death experience stories are kind of fascinating.

I should go to bed.

Italian

I am rather Italian. In fact, it's all I've got.

I look southern Italian. Now, here's my predicament:

I'm not sure whether I'm white or not.

It's an interesting predicament, and some of you may say I'm mentally disabled for thinking this - but I'm not, really - because I've gotten a lot of mixed reviews. Some people think I'm white and some do not. Some sound bytes over the years:

"Yeah, this bracelet may be gaudy. I shouldn't ask anyone Italian, or Black, or Argentinian. I should just ask a straight-up white person."

"She's not white, she's Italian."

"Oh you're Italian? y'all are like N***ers in Europe! That's why the rest of Europe treat you the way they do."

and so on and so forth. Yet, whenever I'm faced with those boxes...like the ones on the SATs? I have to check the "Caucasian" box. Because I came from Europe...and I'm not hispanic...

Are you starting to see ...where I'm coming from?

I love the race discussions. My friend J sits in front of me, she's black. My friend E sits next to me, she's clearly white- fair, blonde. They're discussing their experiences and what it means to be their invividual selves, and I'm sitting in the middle, a giant question mark, a shrug.

I don't really have an opinion about this one way or the other - I just find it fascinating.

Just something to clear up about Italians, that I know for a fact...the Jersey Shore is not a good representation. Please God, don't refer to me as any of those girls on that show. Please pretty please. Those girls are fine, I have no ill will toward them - but they're uneducated. Extremely uneducated. Another misconception: We do not need to wear Bedazzled shirts. If you see me walking around, chances are, 9 times out of ten, I will not be wearing a bedazzled shirt! My shirt will not have any kind of rhinestone on it anywhere.

I love the derogatory terms toward Italians. My favorite? Garlic Eaters.

A. Who in their right mind doesn't eat garlic? it's delicious.

B. Ooooh, you called me a what? Garlic Eater? wow. that hurts. He actually insinuated that I eat Garlic. The nerve. No pizza for you.
:)

My Little Advice Post

Here's what my profile looked like on POF a few months ago. It's quite poetic. And helpful, if you happened to follow me here and want to know what has been going on in that noggin' of mine.

"Okay, so it's safe to say I'm done with this. Tried it for a few months and it's really not for me. It may be harder to meet people in real life, but I'm going to try as long as I can avoid this.

I'm sure a lot of you are fantastic guys. I'm sure you're just on here for the same reason a lot of people are: you're busy, you're sick of the bar scene, etc.

So don't go to the bar scene, guys. Go to a coffee shop, or the park, something. Now look down. Right there, at your balls. see your balls? you have them. Act like it. Honestly, even if you're the creepiest guy - ever - if you come up to one of us somewhere, we may not be attracted to you but wow, we respect you. We respect you because you had the nerve to come up to us an strike up a conversation about something.

So if some guys have the balls for that, then you certainly can have the balls to message a girl, right? something other than "whazup nice eyes"? We know when you're being creative, and when you're not. Be creative - it's the best way to get us to respond. The best way to do that is to read our profile and mention something about it. anything will do, really. Just not our boobs. Don't mention those in the first convo.

So if you message us, and get past that first bit of chit chat, do that thing again where you look at your balls and remember that they're there. Ask us for our number. Then - and here's the kicker! - don't text us. I know, misleading. We started out with text on the computer so it seems like a natural transition, right? wrong. Nothing says either wuss or lazy ass like a text. Once you have our number, you call us. with your voice - or you're dubbed as "that guy who is too afraid to hear our voice".

In fact: never text unless you're running late, or you want us to know how cute we are in passing. Do Not use text as primary conversation unless you want to be diminished in our eyes. We know you like texting, we know you think it's easy - but you are trying to get US to go out with you, and the best way is through your voice.

Well, I've said my piece. I'm not bitter, nor am I unattractive or angry. I'm just a normal girl trying to make sense of this weird technological divide which I think has made dating worse for us, not better.

The next time you're in a public place and you see a cute girl, just go up to her and say this: " I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help but notice ___________. (The book she's reading, the drink she's purchased, anything you can inquire about). If she doesn't smile even a little bit, if she hesitates while looking around for some kind of escape, well you struck out on that one. She has a boyfriend, manic depression, or a bladder issue. Move on to the next.

The point is it doesn't matter if you get that girl or if your ego is bruised. The point is, you took one for the team. You acted like a real man. And someday, a girl 200 times better than the ones that turned you down is going to see that. And you won't have to say, "I met her online."

Confused Fish

So I'm on this site, Plenty of Fish. It provides endless entertainment, and the occasional cool person.

The most recent profile confused me.

Seemingly successful, handsome dude. Lots of emoticons. He writes something like, "I'm taking a break from the bar scene. I keep meeting the wrong kinds of girls."

Then- not 2 paragraphs later! he writes:

I totally respect all you girls who like to wait a little while for sex- or until marrigage - but that's just not me. I like to get this part going quickly."

wow, hello douchebag.

that's just not me? I know you're a guy and you'd like to bone as soon as possible, but no girl worth her salt is going to jump into bed with you on dates one, two, or three (okay, maybe three). Maybe the fact that you've been looking for skank hos who sleep with you on the first date is the very thing impeding you from finding "the right girl".

The right girl is going to want to get to know you first- no matter how cute you are. And let's face it, the girls who will sleep with you on the first date, you lose respect for anyway.

Hi! It's Me.

Who is this person? You ask. You're sitting at the computer or scrolling through your Iphone - you're certainly bored. It might be 2 in the morning. You're wondering why you've even reading this and whether it'll be entertaining at all. Well, that still remains. But I can tell you some of the things I've seen, which would give you a clearer picture as to who I am:

I've seen the skyline at morning, noon, and night.
I've seen 2 guys blow each other.
I've seen people enter the world and I've seen people leave.
I've seen nothing within the realm of supernatural, and I'm dying to.
I've seen some parts of Europe, and one guy jack off to the back of my dress in a specific part of Europe.
-A homeless guy, on the subway. See, it doesn't just happen in New York.

I've seen the dark side of people, found that it's not much different from the light
that the light side can be equally scary as the dark
I've found that "deviance" can be beautiful, pure

I've seen people who have it all figured out
And people who are complete messes
And the people who are complete messes
are more honest.

I've seen people who like to start all kinds of issues, intrigue, and soap opera plot lines
And the people who stand to the side and wait for it to be over.
I've found that your chance of survival is much greater
if you join those by the wall.

I've seen people who hate each other for no reason
and love each other for no reason
and people who make lists of all kinds of reasons
for why they should love or hate.

I've seen four grown women
eat bull penis
at a japanese restaurant
a dare over too many pitchers of sapporo.

I've seen family celebrations,
all-night drinking fests,
intimate moments,
a dog's tiny black nose,
the bluest sky of july under a veil of chlorinated water,
breeze backdrop white sand lullaby...in front of a navy ocean
walking side by side.

But really, I haven't seen anything yet.