In Xanadu did Kublah Khan a stately pleasure dome decree

Wednesday, November 22, 2017


Legend has it that when I was just learning to speak, I was much attached to the word Stuck.
Anything that wasn’t working, wasn’t quite right? Stuck.  No other words. No explanation. No more to the sentence, just... Stuck.  For a very long time. I still feel echoes of that, I think. I love the way the word feels in My mouth and My body. It feels like cock and cunt and other good gutteral and clear AngloSaxon four letter words. Stuk!  When I was studying another language, I really enjoyed the word that sounded like Shtook.

I keep mulling or starting blogs and not getting them written. Here’s an idea that might help.
Here are some ways in which I feel STUCK right now:


Now I am on a train headed to Thanksgiving and it is hard to tap into feeling shtuck when I’m being tossed around so vigorously I can barely type on the phone. MagLev! Seriously, when are we gonna get a damned maglev in this country? Forget the fucking visionary hyperloop, just give us the maglev the Japanese have had FOR-EV-ER!  Sigh.

I’m travelling wearing a cashmere wrap I got at TJmaxx, which was made possible by a generous gift from boy m... who gifted Me the OTHER piece of cashmere (a camel throw that matches My sofa) I lusted for that night, thereby making the wrap budgetarily possible. Folks, always shop places like TJMaxx the weekend before Black Friday. I’m telling ya, so much great inventory. I also wanted a huge oval French cast iron enamel dutch oven in a beautiful robin’s egg blue (sure sign that color must have peaked). But Princess really wanted *cuddly* things; the LeCreuset didn’t make the cut.

I’m still getting to know Princess, she is a playful part, far more innocent in being selfish, definitely sensual in a soft cuddly puppy way. She wanted cute insulated boots for winter, and I caved, then wearing them and feeling My feet really warm, I remembered how cold I often felt as a little kid, especially My feet, riding a school bus two hours a day through the Midwest winters. Yeah. I remember thinking about how My seat wasn’t the one where the heater was, and trying to get closer to that seat, and it only helped sometimes.  Funny how the selfish Princess wants help Me recall forgotten things. It is hard for Me sometimes though, her wants feel huge and endless and unmeetable. Extravagant. I feel the conflict of what I WANT and what I have internalized as the limits of what I DESERVE. There is a big gap.

So boy m gave Me the beautiful cashmere sofa throw, and on a cold travel day I’m wearing the beautiful cashmere wrap as a result, while I ride a train whose ticket was gifted to Me by a boy new to the blog.  My boys lately have the same initials so I will call him david, which has the great virtue of being his name. It turns out the train station I was going to to visit friends for turkey is also *his* station. When I asked for advice about bus lines because I found the waited-too-long train ticket spendy, he quite surprised Me by offering to procure it. he will provide car service to the friends’ house half an hour away, and we will have a few hours when I head back.  It almost feels a little meant to be.

And then yesterday I learned john will be somewhere in the area. So suddenly I’m feeling very good about this part of the country.

But wow, cashmere and a train ticket generously and honestly and quite purely gifted by two different men, who can afford to do so. Why does hearing that make Me feel... kinda dirty?  It is entirely on My terms, yet I feel somehow tainted.  What a great first world problem to ponder: My numerous submissives are so wonderful I feel like a whore.

It will be interesting to see what questions the friends ask about all this not-needing to take Me to the station. They have invited david to come in, and I would be pleased actually if they liked each other. We all need more good friends, and david is a lovely, sweet, funny person with some impressive skills he enjoys sharing.

Still an as-yet-unnamed part of Me, a piece that is intensely judgey and disapproving, says this all is too much. I shouldn’t accept much less need gifts. I should be self sufficient. I should not lust and crave and long for - much less have and enjoy and speak of enjoying - these beautiful and sensual things.  Pleasure is bad, temptation is everywhere and that’s how the Devil gets ya; easier for a camel to walk through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to enter Heaven. Poverty, misery is virtuous.  It’s funny how I can hear these messages and conflicts more clearly of late. It’s odd to hear those messages in My head when I don’t think I think them. But clearly SOMEBODY in there does.

I went to visit john recently and had a completely wonderful time. Just thinking about it, I feel so happy. Being with him brings up so much joy from somewhere deep. It’s funny that this time, though, I almost don’t want to write about it. It’s too happy. It feels... dangerous to talk about being so beautifully, luxuriously, improbably, historically... belatedly...happy.  For some reason the word “belatedly” makes Me suddenly want to cry, sitting here on a train, surrounded by strangers.

Belatedly happy.

The disapproving part of Me is active here, and also warning Me: being happy makes you a target. If people see you happy, they will take it from you. That too is a new, visceral childhood connection. Lots of connections lately now that a joyful and selfish and uninhibited Princess is around.

And then last night, WinterFire registration opened a few days earlier than usual. I had planned to think on the train about What To Do about WinterFire and the hotel. Then suddenly the site was live, the rooms we disappearing and I had to act under pressure which
Is sometimes not a good look for Me.  Host is more expensive but only king and double beds. Overflow is a walk in the cold and schlepping and feeling like I never have what I need, but has kings and queens and is 10% cheaper. Should I please Myself with the king and forego the posibility of sharing, or get 2 smaller beds and feel like it is a missed oportunity, knowing I’ve never found a roomie before, and if I did they might want to sleep at whatever moment I’m able to play with j?  And the larger issue... just how much am I willing to keep spending to be with this far away person who will probably remain far away?  For the price of a WinterFire hotel, I could buy 2 plane tickets.  But the idea of not being together when in such proximity gets an immediate, visceral rejection.

In short... it was Grade A  analysis paralysis.

In the end I said fuck it and pleased Myself, I did the un-frugal thing and postponed to another day the larger possibly unknowable questions. In the end, it is a mini vacation and that is an important part of how I tolerate the job anothwr few years. I cannot sustain a perfect level of frugality, there must be joy, there must be pleasure. The alternative might not literally be death, but feels too much like it. We love a ginormous bed, and we shall have it.

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