Does anyone else think this man would make an excellent spiritual leader, wacked out on steroids?
Was that a wiggle or a struggle?
Friday, April 6, 2007
Fiction again for You
I live in Boston, if you can call it living. You see I am homeless, and have been since the VA kicked me out of the hospital back in ’99, 8 years ago. I’ve done my time, served Uncle Sam and the powers that be, all I got from it was the rotating door of rehab, outpatient programs, and $600 per month. Maybe because I killed babies, or so they said; maybe because I burned villages, or so they said; or maybe Sam just wanted to forget my generation existed because we were an embarrassment then, and remain so today. However, politics is not what this story is about, oh no.
You see, I saw her sitting on that bench all alone, such a young, proper lady in that business suit, deceived by her crying. Normally I would never approach the elite, or homeowner, but with tears she looked so vulnerable. Plus, it was such a very cold night to be alone, the gossamer smoke billowing from the row houses around the park. So I sat down next to her (even across the snow my footsteps did not crunch, I learned to walk softly and carry an M-16 at some point) and asked her problems. She wiped the tears away and went to leave, but I asked her to stay. Then I told her about my daughter in Ohio, or so I thought. I explained how someday I would see her again and because I was a drunkard, I had the foresight of tattooing the address to my chest. That is not so unbelievable coming from a veteran bum, is it? Instead of dog tags, I used my flesh as steel, just as General Grant told his men to do so long ago at Vicksburg. We talked, and talked, her problems became insignificant in the wake of my flow. "I used to worry I had no shoes until I saw a man with no feet." I love that line. Time grew thin and she had to get home, husband, babies, she’ll look better after a night’s rest, etc….me, I need to get to the shelter, but first a nip.
Cheap whiskey always tastes better on a cold night, a companion that warms the body and soul. The problem is the booze can disorient you, and this happened to me on many occasion. Finding shelter was difficult this evening so I decided on the next best thing, a heating exchange grate from the highrise next door. I need to sleep this off, and at least it will be warm.
Ahhhh morning, wintry Boston mornings are quick to awaken even the most hungover bum, and I have just enough money for a bagel and coffee. As I cross the street I see my date from the night before and smile, she looks busy talking to the police, I hear "her name and address are tattooed to his chest," and I look back to see no footprints in the snow.
You see, I saw her sitting on that bench all alone, such a young, proper lady in that business suit, deceived by her crying. Normally I would never approach the elite, or homeowner, but with tears she looked so vulnerable. Plus, it was such a very cold night to be alone, the gossamer smoke billowing from the row houses around the park. So I sat down next to her (even across the snow my footsteps did not crunch, I learned to walk softly and carry an M-16 at some point) and asked her problems. She wiped the tears away and went to leave, but I asked her to stay. Then I told her about my daughter in Ohio, or so I thought. I explained how someday I would see her again and because I was a drunkard, I had the foresight of tattooing the address to my chest. That is not so unbelievable coming from a veteran bum, is it? Instead of dog tags, I used my flesh as steel, just as General Grant told his men to do so long ago at Vicksburg. We talked, and talked, her problems became insignificant in the wake of my flow. "I used to worry I had no shoes until I saw a man with no feet." I love that line. Time grew thin and she had to get home, husband, babies, she’ll look better after a night’s rest, etc….me, I need to get to the shelter, but first a nip.
Cheap whiskey always tastes better on a cold night, a companion that warms the body and soul. The problem is the booze can disorient you, and this happened to me on many occasion. Finding shelter was difficult this evening so I decided on the next best thing, a heating exchange grate from the highrise next door. I need to sleep this off, and at least it will be warm.
Ahhhh morning, wintry Boston mornings are quick to awaken even the most hungover bum, and I have just enough money for a bagel and coffee. As I cross the street I see my date from the night before and smile, she looks busy talking to the police, I hear "her name and address are tattooed to his chest," and I look back to see no footprints in the snow.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Deevolution
Why do men jam their hands down their pants and drink beer while watching college players dribble these?
<======= Granted I would never trade my man in for another, but come on, you are 39 years old and for the last month (as every year) you relive the four years you spent in an ACC school. Get a grip already, take off the t-shirt and come to bed when I request your presence.
-The Holiest
Saturday, March 31, 2007
My First Tag
5 Things not yet in my blog (Thanks for the tag) >:D<
1. I am blonde (but not dumb).
2. I think all vegetarians would rather eat meat. Don’t you think hard core veggies look like ass?
3. I play piano at a fairly high level.
4. I wear contacts and glasses, but not at the same time.
5. I like to say "God, Guns, and Guts made this country, lets keep all three."
5 Tags – Gadfly, kinkyfarmwife, Cherrie, Shay S-spot, Madame X
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
A Fictional Blurb
He instructed me to write this, and in the same breath told me it would be the last thing I wrote. Encountering such honesty made me seriously consider what to put on paper, as, I assume, it does any condemned person. I have no real possessions so a will is useless. It would seem my time is short and whatever I type should be powerful and succinct, so I’ve decided on a warning.
It started at the mall, where I worked, he brought a Teddy Bear into the shop. It was such an innocent gesture. I flirted, we went to a coffeehouse, my first ever, so smart and refined. In hindsight this should have been a warning, why would an older man want me? His behavior was never improper, always treating me with respect while asking about my life at home. He knew I planned to leave that shelter as soon as I saved enough money and this seemed to impress him. As the weeks passed we grew closer and an offer of a security deposit was tendered. I was flattered, maybe even a bit infatuated. So the day arrived and after the heavy lifting we went to dinner at an upscale restaurant where I was told of a surprise. This is the last thing I remember.
I awoke in a darkened room, naked, chained to a cold steel table. This room was lit by a single lightbulb and he stood over me. Clothed, holding a transparent bag of fluid that bent the light, he explained "this will keep you hydrated, it contains no drugs to dull the senses I wish to access," and a needle slid into my arm. After that he told me the story of David, saying Michelangelo carved this sculpture from a flawed piece of stone, and like David, a masterpiece was hidden inside of me - and he then showed me the scalpel.
It started at the mall, where I worked, he brought a Teddy Bear into the shop. It was such an innocent gesture. I flirted, we went to a coffeehouse, my first ever, so smart and refined. In hindsight this should have been a warning, why would an older man want me? His behavior was never improper, always treating me with respect while asking about my life at home. He knew I planned to leave that shelter as soon as I saved enough money and this seemed to impress him. As the weeks passed we grew closer and an offer of a security deposit was tendered. I was flattered, maybe even a bit infatuated. So the day arrived and after the heavy lifting we went to dinner at an upscale restaurant where I was told of a surprise. This is the last thing I remember.
I awoke in a darkened room, naked, chained to a cold steel table. This room was lit by a single lightbulb and he stood over me. Clothed, holding a transparent bag of fluid that bent the light, he explained "this will keep you hydrated, it contains no drugs to dull the senses I wish to access," and a needle slid into my arm. After that he told me the story of David, saying Michelangelo carved this sculpture from a flawed piece of stone, and like David, a masterpiece was hidden inside of me - and he then showed me the scalpel.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Upcoming Fiction
In a few days, after some refinement, I am going to post a piece of fiction. It won't be for everyone (or most), but remember it's just a story.
-The Holiest
-The Holiest
Monday, March 26, 2007
Razor
Barbering is an intimate skill and to be correctly done requires some preparation. Towels, clean razors, shave cream, soap, a subject, and hot water - the solvent of life. In a few days I’ll shave his head bald, hairless, clean, and sexy and towel the hot water from it after a good rinse. He always gets frisky after a shave, and I’ll enjoy that too, but not before a drive. It’ll be in the Mercedes, flying down dark country roads with wild, reckless abandon; going nowhere too fast, clutching the steering wheel as the warm spring air ruffles my hair. Alone, I shall cleanse the image of a cancer-ridden little girl that died on my watch, so long ago.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Valkyrie
He sits on the edge of our king bed, muscular back heaving under a burden of tears I can not see and whimpers I can not hear. His life was not like mine, he was a soldier once, but not before we first met. We were both 15 and terminally in love - inseparable. He was and is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. His blue eyes indented within a hardened, symmetrical face, but those eyes say so much. They keep his secrets, even if the scars speak loudly. The old wounds along his right trapezius, the long closed holes in his right ankle and thigh, I often wonder the stories they tell. I know from my life they are knife and bullet wounds, and I so yearn to ask but dare not. At one point they were packed with blood and bone, but returned with fertile detritus from some rotting jungle in Central America. He paid a price so I could go to college, medical school, residency, etc. You know what I wish the most? I wish I had been there when they brought him home and that my healing hands put his pieces back together
Friday, March 23, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
How Long?
Over at http://mypinktaco.blogspot.com/ I read that the average life of a sex blogger is six months, well I do not consider myself a sex blogger yet, I surely enjoy your sex blogs. Keep me reading....
- The Holiest
- The Holiest
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
CH Part 2
So let’s finish our CH story before the Holy One goes off on another topic.
One night there was a house party, long after those that knew CH had become comfortable with his bizarre behaviors. It was crowded as most were in those days and the beer was flowing, but CH was nowhere to be seen. Then there was a commotion, and a group of "sorority" sisters fled yelling incoherently - as they also normally did in those days. After the party we all went upstairs to hang and crash, this was when the drugs and heavy alcohol came out. So we were sitting there, altered, and three athletes stormed into our room with one asking "Who was the fucking sicko that jumped from the bathroom and cracked a nut on my girlfriend." The moment was still, and we all looked at each other and simultaneously said "CH", we even told them he was right down the hall. Now let me remind the reader that this was at ~ 4 am on a warm fall evening, the hallway was dark except the light from our room, and these three horsemen vanished into the blackness after their prey. This was soon disrupted by another light, and then screaming, then the three men bolting past our door terrified, and lo and behold what was behind them but CH, buck naked with a hardon in one hand and a claw hammer in the other.
In the end CH dropped out of college and got help in his hometown of Atlanta, he returned to finish his degree and is now happily married with wonderful children, still living in the South.
This is a true story, if you recognize the initials and/or evening drop me a line and we can reconnect.
One night there was a house party, long after those that knew CH had become comfortable with his bizarre behaviors. It was crowded as most were in those days and the beer was flowing, but CH was nowhere to be seen. Then there was a commotion, and a group of "sorority" sisters fled yelling incoherently - as they also normally did in those days. After the party we all went upstairs to hang and crash, this was when the drugs and heavy alcohol came out. So we were sitting there, altered, and three athletes stormed into our room with one asking "Who was the fucking sicko that jumped from the bathroom and cracked a nut on my girlfriend." The moment was still, and we all looked at each other and simultaneously said "CH", we even told them he was right down the hall. Now let me remind the reader that this was at ~ 4 am on a warm fall evening, the hallway was dark except the light from our room, and these three horsemen vanished into the blackness after their prey. This was soon disrupted by another light, and then screaming, then the three men bolting past our door terrified, and lo and behold what was behind them but CH, buck naked with a hardon in one hand and a claw hammer in the other.
In the end CH dropped out of college and got help in his hometown of Atlanta, he returned to finish his degree and is now happily married with wonderful children, still living in the South.
This is a true story, if you recognize the initials and/or evening drop me a line and we can reconnect.
Friday, March 9, 2007
CH Part 1
The question becomes one of belief. Yes, this sounds like a college professor asking questions because it was exactly here, in college, that I met Charlie H. (CH hereafter). CH was a tall slender southern lad, with a normal cock; I wish I could say it was enormous or above average, but indeed it was simply adequate in every way and shape. Your thought might be – how do you know if you never slept with him? CH and I spent many evening studying together before and after our first real episode.
We were in a building (whose name I dare not speak but it had Ivy), studying on the ground floor, when CH left for a bit. Not surprising before midterms, except I heard a faint rap on the window, looked out, and there stood CH buck naked motioning for me to open up. So I did and CH plunged inward upon our table and began to pose down like a bodybuilder, then he began singing “Which Way America”, finished the tune to everyone’s amazement and lept out. Clearly there was something wrong with Charlie. After this behavior his appearances became stranger. For instance he adopted the peculiar habit of arranging every piece of furniture in his room at the center, and taping charcoal to the white walls in geometric mosaic patterns.
His onanistic pleasures also increased, he would simply start jacking off whenever and wherever he felt like it. You might be watching SportsMachine and CH would say “Do you mind if I beat off?” and he would take out his 5 iron and have a wank. It was all very strange. One night there was a party….
We were in a building (whose name I dare not speak but it had Ivy), studying on the ground floor, when CH left for a bit. Not surprising before midterms, except I heard a faint rap on the window, looked out, and there stood CH buck naked motioning for me to open up. So I did and CH plunged inward upon our table and began to pose down like a bodybuilder, then he began singing “Which Way America”, finished the tune to everyone’s amazement and lept out. Clearly there was something wrong with Charlie. After this behavior his appearances became stranger. For instance he adopted the peculiar habit of arranging every piece of furniture in his room at the center, and taping charcoal to the white walls in geometric mosaic patterns.
His onanistic pleasures also increased, he would simply start jacking off whenever and wherever he felt like it. You might be watching SportsMachine and CH would say “Do you mind if I beat off?” and he would take out his 5 iron and have a wank. It was all very strange. One night there was a party….
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Metricized
First, you may think her Holiness does not have time for daily rituals, but wait, I do. Between the kids, work, sex, and the other business, I find time for regular running with my two hounds, Jack and Carter. Both are large Golden Retrievers, and when I say "large" both are over 90 pounds (should I convert this to kg for my non-US readers)? Would ya’ll like me to use the metric system? I am sure hubby would love for me to report his cock size in centimeters, that’ll make it seem huge. This gives me an idea, ahhhh, fuck it, from now on all measurements will be metricized. Except standard knowns, like my A-cups.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Blissful Mom
10 Things Mom Doesn’t Know
I shave my bits.
I could hear her and my dad.
I do not cook much (she would be ashamed).
I am successful.
I enjoy S&M.
I’ve had threesomes.
I am a survivalist.
I own guns.
I like pornography.
I am blogging.
I shave my bits.
I could hear her and my dad.
I do not cook much (she would be ashamed).
I am successful.
I enjoy S&M.
I’ve had threesomes.
I am a survivalist.
I own guns.
I like pornography.
I am blogging.
20 Questions
An innocent (insipid) interview with the Holy One
1. Where are you from? US Upper Midwest (the central plains).
2. Do you have a name? Visile or L. :)
3. Age? 38.
4. Education? All the way.
5. Relationships? Happily taken.
6. Children? Yes and no more.
7. Where were you born? Northeastern Ohio.
8. Favorite Color? Blue, like my eyes.
9. Favorite Meat? Lamb.
10. Do you cook? Yes, although rarely.
11. Heritage? Polish.
12. Favorite Area of the US? California.
13. Jewelry? Very simple tastes, but gold is always nice.
14. Cars? A sporty one, a minivan, and a suburban. Sexy and practical
15. Favorite season? Fall
16. Favorite sport? College basketball, it’s March!!!
17. What time do you go to bed? 11 pm
18. What time do you awake? 6:30 am
19. Are you a feminist? No.
20. Are we going to see more interviews? Yes (or ask a question, I'll answer it honestly)
1. Where are you from? US Upper Midwest (the central plains).
2. Do you have a name? Visile or L. :)
3. Age? 38.
4. Education? All the way.
5. Relationships? Happily taken.
6. Children? Yes and no more.
7. Where were you born? Northeastern Ohio.
8. Favorite Color? Blue, like my eyes.
9. Favorite Meat? Lamb.
10. Do you cook? Yes, although rarely.
11. Heritage? Polish.
12. Favorite Area of the US? California.
13. Jewelry? Very simple tastes, but gold is always nice.
14. Cars? A sporty one, a minivan, and a suburban. Sexy and practical
15. Favorite season? Fall
16. Favorite sport? College basketball, it’s March!!!
17. What time do you go to bed? 11 pm
18. What time do you awake? 6:30 am
19. Are you a feminist? No.
20. Are we going to see more interviews? Yes (or ask a question, I'll answer it honestly)
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Oh Dear
It has been a few days and no new posts, although I doubt anyone cares. I have a good reason, I've been writing other text. Maybe this was not such a grand idea....could this become the world's shortest blogging time? I doubt it; I guess I'll have to give you a story, it might be interesting to read about my old friend Charlie H.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Switch
"I’m a switch," he said.
Are there sweeter words for someone like me, an explorer, to hear? This was one of our earliest sexual conversations, and at that moment I realized he was mine and I was his. (More on this topic later).
Are there sweeter words for someone like me, an explorer, to hear? This was one of our earliest sexual conversations, and at that moment I realized he was mine and I was his. (More on this topic later).
Noticed
You may have noticed I do not listen to music, especially if music is a large part of your life. I should explain, I do enjoy music, I simply do not let it clutter my mind. Indeed, my personal world is happily devoid of iPods, mp3 players, and other electronic toys save for a bare bones cell phone that I only use for emergencies (sex toys are exempt under this heading). The din of work and family is enough to reassure me that I am alive.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Why?
The exact question I asked myself last night. I honestly do not intend to spend my precious free time online, but having a blog could be fun. Apart from the serious learning curve associated with layout and content, I will try to keep everything here as truthful as possible. Anonymity is only useful if one is lying to someone (e.g., a spouse or readership), plus, no one is truly anonymous on the internet, even the best proxies are not very good.
-L
-L
Sunday, February 25, 2007
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