. . : Dopamine Junkie 6.0: Ripe with Text : . . |
|
|
The power of words
is all I have.
This is your chance to escape Before you fall down my rabbit hole. ..::ACHTUNG::.. The Dopamine Junkie Chronicles depict sexy text imagery. ..:Dope J's Wishlist About Dopamine Junkie
Dopamine Junkie Chronicles: Click below to support.
Blog Pro
|
Monday, December 27, 2004
Home for the Holidays clickstream Natural Selection Acts on Quantum World Vice Guide to Everything Motohiko Kotokuta Pimps and Dragons Eccentric Genius Soulwax: What's your Vice? PsycPort Gadget Fetish The Clanging Symbol Tokyo Girls Quotes on Insanity Malthusian Relativity Neil Gaiman's Journal Floating Bed Growing Up Sexually: A World Atlas Synopsis of the Alien Master plan
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Post Holiday Stupor [ excerpts from Christmas correspondence ] The post Christmas stupor hit hard this year. Aided by liquor, the high energy super fast vibrations created by a family of female energy. Since Papa died, it's Mama and us 5 daughters. We celebrated Christmas Eve with my mother's sister and her 2 daughters. It was raucous. A ruckus. Imagine that choir of women, lovely asian women from 52 down to 10 years of age, inebriated with laughter and warm gigglies of togetherness, no patriarchal figure to admonish us to behave with more ladylike grace - therefore without censorship the cackles and giggles and certain shared explosion of donkey laughter continued - harassing the waiter, bartender and even the chef, who did well under our scrutiny - knowing that there was no stopping this force of female grace that entered their orange county asian fusion modern art mostly overpriced seafood restaurant. A table full of females in different shades of red lipstick, singing in 3 or 4 part harmonies the hits of Hoobastank, Usher, The Darkness (oh god-the wall of piercing high notes!), N'sync, Hillary Duff, an assortment of Tagalog pop songs, Christmas carols ( with passionate fob accents ) and whatever else we made up ourselves. From there we moved on to the stone hearth of Disney's Grand Californian Hotel, where our Secret Santa gift exchange provided Reality TV-like fascinating entertainment to the other weird families who spent Christmas Eve in a Disney hotel. Christmas Day morning we got up to check out of the hotel and to have brunch at "Storytellers" cafe where Chip and Dale and other characters from Brother Bear (I didn't see it) were there. We harassed Dale (apparently he's the stupider looking one) by singing the hook from Usher's "Yeah" and then he responded by breaking into some spontaneous dance moves. "Dale must be black inside," my sister whispered to me. We came back from Disney's Grand Californian Hotel, so we could spend some time with my mother's parents. I threw together a quick Christmas dinner so my mother could sleep before her shift at the hospital: farfalle, chicken, parsley, garlic, butter, tomatoes/paste, mascarpone. I also made a little tiramisu. Nice reds and greens for Christmas. This in addition to some other dishes of shrimp and salmon and such. It's funny, my family always despaired of me ever being "domesticated" when I was younger - I had no interest in cooking whatsoever - which in addition to my surly, dominant nature - created the shared family anxiety that no one would ever want to marry me. I'm tired now. My body wants to be still. I went to the gym for the first time since before I left for NY. My intuition, the council of undersouls is leaning more towards a reclusive year's end. Although if I did go up north this week, I think I'd need to go here: Harbin! I ask the council and the straw poll shows a majority vote for stillness and solitude, rather than debauchery. I feel I must prepare with great care and cognizance for my 30th year around the sun - at least marking in human years. Small and tightly laced, the Dopamine Junkie
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Ephemeral Confluence on the East Coast
A story of warmth amidst the bitter New York cold, An effort of ephemeral confluence Two actors – he by profession, I, by respiration Slip quickly and easily into a trusting familiarity Into the kind of passion between two people that lights too easily, the flame burning so brightly and quickly that it evaporates just as wax melts off a candle. I think about my new lover, who slipped So quickly, smoothly, deliciously and deeply Into my Focus Sensitivity, beauty, virility, attentiveness so ripe and complete Both my anima and animus engage in sudden full attention To this parallel universe of possibility He turns the locks to show me a glimpse behind that door Yet I felt apart by necessity, as a defense My inner romantic seduced by the storyline My subconscious already scheming to interject New York into my trajectory To wrestle with the emergence of childish wistfulness To detox of the lovely chemicals, to soothe the sudden ache I pin down this butterfly hope Capture it in words and ideas Or as he likes to call them “moments” How often have I been objectified in this fashion The lovers who disassociate from my embrace To admire and adore me from “over there” Because perhaps it was true Perhaps they knew They would never really be. Here with me. So I’ll allow myself to obsess over the fantasy To appreciate with fond reflection and doting word To sit with and beside the moments of Perfect entwined contentment In a cab, on a couch, in a bed Movements #1 – infinity Quickly established routines Of morning music and green goodness Indulging in the full awareness: _New York City and the Lower East Side _5 flights of stairs to a temporal Home _the bitter cold and the warmth within _the fleeting and the fullness of time Darlin and sweetness and unmentionable thoughts A step aside the normal trajectory To inhabit infinity and ephemera With bittersweet consciousness
Thursday, December 02, 2004
The Text of Sex: Quotes to Elicit Desire I. [ Girl slumped back onto couch, wiggling thighs. The boy looks over. ] Boy: "What are you doing with your legs there?" Girl: "Nothing." Boy: "Looks like you're agitating their intersection." [ Girl blushes ] II. "All six feet, one hundred and ninety three pounds of me . . . does what he's told." III. "Does imagining me in a locked leather collar, leash, harness and locked bondage mitts feeding between a Domme's legs really excite you, or are you teasing?" IV. ". . .will do everything in my power to make you cum even harder." V. ". . . all over your angelic face." VI. "What is your wish, little one?" VII. [he does the thing that makes you narrow your eyes.] VIII. "I'm glad you said please." IX. "Your postulants may see a Little One with sharp nails, stinging tongue, stinging whip. I see a little one who curls up in heartbeat shelter, working hard at dreaming herself awake." X. The thread is never lost. It twines and binds small, discreet twists into the skin, always maintaining the connection. It enters the ear to transmit a pulse [a breath, a whisper] into the softest space.
|
