So it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on my knees. Joni Mitchell is playing on the stereo, as appears to be customary now when we have sex. Each of my hands is placed on her hips, steadying my balance, and I’m beginning to work my own like a piston.
The seamstress is making agreeable noises. I can feel her muscles tighten around my shaft, and the familiar quiver that means her orgasm is coming soon. Keep going – maybe a little faster. I feel like I’m in porn.
There’s a mirror in the room.
It’s not very well lit, this room. Nowhere in the house is – it’s an older house, relatively small and without central heating, but a nice one. I think back on it, now, fondly. It’s not even the seamstress’ room, either; it’s usually her brother’s, and still would be were it not for the fact that he now lives elsewhere and it’s become the de facto room in which we sleep, and cuddle, and fuck. In any case, the only light is from a bulb without a shade hanging loosely from the ceiling. It casts a faint yellow glow around most of the room.
There’s not much to it, but as I rear back to deliver the last few blows, I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
I really don’t like the way my body looks. I never have and I never will; there are all these weird bits that I’m never going to sort out. But, at that moment, on my knees with my hands on her hips and my cock deep inside her… and the semi-shocked, semi-concentrating look on my face… I look better than I have in a very long time.
I’m doing well.
As the seamstress screams an oath and begins to have her third orgasm of the night, I give myself a wink and a double thumbs-up…
Tell me who would you be? Would you be me? The woman in me? Would you like to be under my skin? I will let you in, yeah yeah yeah
Hello, internet! Do you want to know what I just found out about Billie Myers? Have a guess. No, go on. Not about the fact that she’s bisexual; I knew that already. Or that she used to be a nurse. Or that she criticised Obama for failing to mention marriage equality in a speech. Or that she has a remix album. Or that she’s from Coventry. No. None of them.
What I just found out is that she sang Kiss The Rain.
I genuinely didn’t know this. I remember the song being on NOW That’s What I Call Music! 38, but I don’t remember ever being into it. What I was into was her 1998 follow-up Tell Me, which reached number 28 in the charts and was also probably responsible for my entire sexual awakening.
I shall explain.
This is the sort of screenshot I’d expect from a normal Soft Porn Sunday!
I was 13 in 1998. Having tried to convince myself for the past two years that I wasn’t actually interested in sex had proved to be a fruitless endeavour. I was now getting more interested in my body and what made it tick, and certain words or phrases (or ideas) did so. Making love was certainly one of them, as opposed to the shorter, four-letter words that the rowdy boys in my year used as punctuation. I was also aroused by various odd ideas like being encased in a sex machine or staying at school overnight to have sex with the girl I sat next to in French.
And Tell Me by Billie Myers.
For those of you that don’t know, Tell Me is a song about sex. More specifically, it’s a song in which Billie envisions as herself as the person with whom she is having sex, while having sex with them. In it she entreats the person (who doesn’t have a specific gender) to tell her
Oh, how does it feel Making love to me like you do?
and even freely admits that
Naked, oh, I like you naked And when I fake it, you like me more
To a thirteen-year-old, this was nothing short of a revelation. A song about having sex, by a woman who’s probably at some point had sex, who clearly enjoys sex, and is comfortable enough to admit so. What is she, some sort of goddess?
Billie’s audition to be the next Max Headroom was met with mixed reviews.
I’ve been watching porn for a long time now and I still don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite as sexually charged. The video is – there is no other word for it – HOT. There is a kind of plot, I suppose, but the majority of it is disconnected shots of moderately sexual activity happening in various places (centred around a strip club, which is where the video’s prologue starts). Throughout its 4:50 runtime, we get:
– people getting frisky, both with Billie Myers, and each other – people getting frisky, both in pairs and in threes, and occasionally in groups – occasional shots of an Indian goddess doing a belly dance – The Matrix-like spacey black outfits – Max Headroom-ish kaleidoscopic backgrounds – women wearing nothing but a bra – strippers wearing very little on their lower half – everyone being really sultry and nobody actually giving a fuck – a couple towards the end possibly actually having sex on the bar
Hey, this new TRON remake looks good.
Billie spends the entire video in various states of undress, possibly doing a striptease herself (or is it a sort of “exposing my vulnerability” thing? Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it), and in fact the final shot is of her, slightly abashed, putting her clothes back on and fading out.
It’s all very clever, very tantalising, incredibly sexy, and it’s underscored by the song itself, which is great in its own right. Add the lyrics to the excellent music and there’s very little doubt as to why this was my gateway drug back in 1998.
*
Don’t cover your modesty, Billie. You have nothing to hide.
“I wonder what this song is called?” said my dad, jocularly, as Billie sang “tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…” while gyrating on Top of the Pops. “Hnnnnnnnnnnnngh,” I said unhelpfully, before realising he’d made a joke. “Anyway, I’m going to make dinner. Do you want to help?” “Would I have to stand up?” “…I expect so…”
Since I’ve been struggling to think of things to write, I’m once again grateful for the existence of Five Things. MPB has been unwell for a while, which means that the meme appeared to have stalled for a while. It’s back tomorrow, and there’s an accidental crossover with an upcoming Kink of the Week, so I can be a massive troll and take part in both memes before the link parties open.
ILB, you crafty little rascal.
Anyway, so, clothes. I can do that. I wear clothes.
1) My Look
I don’t really have what could be termed a ‘look’. Throughout my life I’ve stuck to casual wear as often as possible – ranging from tracksuits to combat trousers. I wear T-shirts most of the time, as well, as opposed to shirts – which I wear to work – and I’ll generally put on the first thing I can find, without making some sort of attempt to co-ordinate.
I also don’t tend to source my clothes from any particular place. I hardly ever buy any – I sometimes get a few for Christmas. Some of my favourite clothes have been in my possession for as long as I can remember, and some I’ve owned since I was 14!
If you’ve met me at Eroticon, you’ll probably have noticed that I turn up in a flannel shirt. Rose once tried to talk me out of wearing it to Erotic Meet, so I didn’t. I tried to stop her, but she overpowered me!
2) Not My Look
I strenuously resist, and will continue to resist, fashionable clothes. Despite knowing people who work in the industry – and I even went to a Viktor & Rolf exhibition once – I’ve never become attached to the idea of being a fashion victim.
Throughout my adolescence and young adulthood I made a conscious effort to not appear fashionable. I wore the most outdated things I could find and, if something suddenly appeared to be ‘in’, I stopped wearing it. Until the age of about 12 or 13 my garment of choice was an oversized Super Mario Bros. 2 tee, often coupled with blue shorts.
I’ve never been cool and have no desire to be, so why try?
3) Rock ’em, sock ’em
In an attempt to placate the vague implications of participating in KOTW.
When I was a child I never wore socks. I once asked my mother why African tribesmen in TV dramas never wore footwear and she said something about having tough feet due to walking through deserts. While I’m not sure that was actually true, I spent years attempting to toughen my feet by going barefoot while playing my adventure games in the garden or alleyway behind my house.
Green socks. I’m not even sure if I own any.
Which is ironic, really, because socks are my favourite clothes. I don’t have any special ones – they’re mostly black, grey, or blue. But I like the way they feel – they keep in the large amount of heat one loses through the soles of one’s feet, they are pleasantly soft and comfortable, and the few times I’ve had sex wearing them, it’s always been pleasant…
I’ve also appeared in ES Magazine wearing nothing but pants and a pair of socks! (I’ve tried to tell my family this, but they didn’t believe me.) It’s not a fantastic likeness, though; a quick glance at the issue reminds me that I look more like the bloke on the next page whom GOTN is trying to seduce.
4) My Colour
I don’t have a colour, as such.
Some people do. My fiancée wears nothing but black (yes, I know black isn’t a colour); my youngest cousin favours vibrant colours including bright green hair and yellow nail varnish. My uncle wears Hawaiian shirts. I don’t really do any of those.
Most of my clothes are blue, grey, blue-grey, dark green, or khaki. It’s not a deliberate attempt to do anything, but it does tend to suit my mood. I’m struggling now to think if I’ve ever owned anything yellow. I don’t like red (the colour; I don’t care what I wear), but I once owned an oversized red jumper with a white stripe down the middle.
Which I’ve just realised is the Austrian flag. Fantastic.
5) …and a sex thing.
Basically in order to fit this into what is ostensibly a sex blog.
I’ve very rarely had sex with any clothes on, although it’s occasionally just happened. My favourite trope, despite this, in soft porn is for people to have sex with some of their clothes on – often just their shoes – and my favourite look on a woman is for her to be topless but still wearing blue jeans!
Before I had sex for the first time, my girlfriend and I used to engage in dry sex – that is, the movements (and some of the noises), but with clothes on. It was fun, cheeky, and now that I think about it, probably quite cute.
“Do you know what the problem is?” she said once, as we lay in a tangle. “No,” I said, worried that she genuinely wasn’t enjoying herself.” “Clothes,” she said simply.
AKA: “Did I Really Waste My Birthday Money On This?”
My apologies, first of all, for taking two years to do this one. That is to say that this flick was released (if you can call it “released”) two years ago and I didn’t know it existed until very recently. I should pay more attention, or something.
Anyway. It’s been more than a decade since Surrender Cinema made anything. The fact that this film exists at all is a marvel – considering that the first Femalien was made in 1996 (and largely considered one of their best) and followed by the poorly-received Femalien 2 (1998) and archive footage re-release Femaliens: Seduction of the Species (2017). This is, in name at least, the fourth in the Femalien series, almost a quarter of the century after the first one came out.
Fuck me, I’m old.
As this excellent review by Jason Coffman says, this is an entry in the Femalien series which doesn’t carry the Surrender Cinema label (or that of its predecessor studio Torchlight, or successor Twilight) – rather it was released under the banner of Full Moon (its parent company), and more specifically as one of Charles Band’s Deadly Ten, a collection of low-budget horror movies which are Full Moon’s usual fare.
It also has nothing to do with Femalien. The plot itself involves a planet named Thanagar (DC are getting a lawyer), on which a research team have landed; they are joined, eventually, by delegates from the high council of Altaria (Pokémon are getting a lawyer). While the researchers’ professor Dara’Tel Quenthosz (Denise Milfort) starts going mad with power, things are thrown into a spin, and it’s up to those who have retained their sanity to sort things out.
I’m aware this sounds like an MST3K movie plot. The question on everyone’s lips, I’m sure (mine, at least), is that most prescient: “where’s da seks @???”)
Appearance:Femalien: Cosmic Crush (2020) Characters: Marion Ovudo & Jeetz Axelrod
As opposed to the first two films in the series – and, yes, it feels odd to write that – there genuinely isn’t a lot of sex in Cosmic Crush. There’s plenty of nudity (some of the characters may as well not have any costumes in the wardrobe), but very little actual sex. It’s a part of the plot (insofar as the Thanagarian Pleasure Pod, yes that’s a thing don’t question me, is a part of the plot), but the majority of the sex is implied – light petting and a little foreplay and then a quick fade out. For a while, I was wondering if I had bought a cut version of the DVD!
One of the actual sex scenes happens fairly early on in the film, however. Our main character, Marion (who’s on the mission because of her father or something, I dunno), begins the film in a relationship with Jeetz (who’s on the mission because he is). The opening scene, which is ostensibly about the team making a bumpy landing on Thanagar, cuts to Marion and Jeetz every now and again. They can’t help with the landing because they’re…
…busy.
Doesn’t look like the most comfortable place to have sex, really.
Our first inkling of what they are up to comes just after an entreaty to “hold onto something!”, so I suppose they are doing so (in fact, I suspect that line wasn’t entirely serendipitous, but you never know with this sort of thing). It’s a very quick shot, of course, but it leaves no doubt as to what they are doing.
A few cuts between crew later and we are treated to a slightly longer, slightly more explicit snatch of sex scene. Marion (Janson) is riding Jeetz (Borresch) in a little sleeping cubby that seems to be designed particularly for people to have sex in the astride position. I fail to see how anyone could actually sleep in one, but then again, I’ve had sex in a cubby two metres tall by one and a half wide and then fallen asleep in it, so maybe it’s not impossible.
Baby, I can see your halo. You know you’re my saving grace…
To the film’s (and the actors’) credit, the sex here is pretty good. It’s certainly energetic, with lots of bounce. Borresch might have this sort of semi-inane, semi-manic grin on his face throughout, but Janson is giving a good performance, even throwing out some piercing softcore moans (a departure from the norm, since Surrender hardly ever used anything except music for their sex scenes) at points. Throughout one shot, she even appears to be artistically lit, which probably isn’t intentional but I’m going to pretend it is.
The scene could end when Marion bumps her head on the roof, but it doesn’t. She shakes it off, smiles and then just carries on shagging. Good for you, honey.
The entire thing is underscored (as is the whole scene, including the bits in the cockpit with the crew) with some electronic thrash metal, which I suppose is meant to indicate the hazardous landing, but it works quite well for the sex too. It’s not exactly in time with it, but then it doesn’t really need to be. Since the sex lasts about fifteen seconds, anything else would be jarring.
But then that’s the other thing: fifteen seconds. If that.
Marion has just hit her head and is recovering from something she really should have foreseen.
On paper, this all sounds good. The “busy workers oblivious to people having sex nearby” trope is certainly one of my favourites, and it helps that this whole setup establishes some of the characters and basic scene. Janson herself is incredibly pretty, and she’s certainly thrown herself into this rôle (I could give or take Borresch, but Jeetz is one of only two male characters in this, so I’ll allow it).
What it doesn’t excuse is how brief this is. It’s even the longest sex scene in the film, given its propensity for more inoffensive nudity and sex implication as the machine trundles along.
Do you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?
I’ll point this out here and now, though. I’m being unfair. I bought this DVD on the assumption that it would be a full-on softcore flick on account of the fact that it’s called Femalien and it’s by the same company. There’s no indication that it would have been one otherwise. It really shouldn’t be called that – Cosmic Crush on its own would have done. But it doesn’t advertise itself as softcore, being as it is one of the Deadly Ten.
I’m not owed, in my hubris, any sex scene that I just assumed would be there. And I suppose, essentially, that I’ve learned a lesson here.
Wow, it’s been a long time since I last took part in Five Things. Again, it’s a meme I’ve been aiming to keep up with; it’s just something that falls off my radar every now and again. The cue for this week, however – favourite places – was certainly something that rang a bell for me.
Before I go deaf like Quasimodo, let’s do the meme.
I’m tempted to put my blog down as one of my favourite places, but I’m not sure if you can count this as a place! Anyway, I’ve chosen to categorise these, so here are:
1) My favourite place to holiday is…
The city of Bath. I’m not quite sure why I like Bath so much; I have no connection there via friends or family, but I always feel at home there. It’s a beautiful city, there’s always lots going on, easy to get around (because it’s so small!), and I’ve both visited and even worked there a fair few times. I keep wanting to go back and even made a special trip there once just so I could visit the thermae.
I was once fully intending to move to Bath as soon as I could. Sometimes I wonder what happened to that plan….
2) My favourite place to eat is…
Anywhere, obviously, and I’m very fond of eating at my desk. I have a few favourite restaurants – the Italian place at Victoria Station, The Diner in Camden (where I once spent a lonely hour eating dinner alone in the middle of Eroticon), the local Indian my uncle seems to keep in business by himself – but my favourite place to get food is the tiny eaterie just around the corner from me called La Baguette. It’s not really anything more than a sandwich shop – it has tables, so looks like a café, but I’ve rarely ever sat there. However, I am a simple ho, and can’t ever resist one of their sandwiches, so although that’s not my favourite place to eat food, it’s my favourite place to get it.
And now I’m going to need to go there for lunch, aren’t I?
3) My favourite place to read is…
In my parents’ lounge. Their place, SH, is lovely. It’s small, well-kept, warm, and – importantly – quiet. Despite the fact that it’s only a street away from the last house they had (the on I grew up in), it’s still much more peaceful. There you can’t hear the shrieks and cries from the local primary school, nor can you detect the rumble of the big A-road that goes through our London borough (you can hear it from here – we’re right next to it!). Sitting in a comfy chair in their quiet, warm room is the perfect place to get lost in a book, or indulge in some handheld gaming… as long as my dad doesn’t have the TV on.
4) My favourite place to masturbate is…
In my computer chair.
This is how I learned to masturbate, at university in front of my computer. I don’t often need a lot of stimulus to get hard (although it takes me a while to get off!), but I find that – rather than using it to help – I’m using visual media to enjoy masturbation more. I can get into a situation or story easily enough, but there’s only so much actively engagement I can take! People have used their talent in acting or writing or directing or… whatever… to make arousing media, which I’ve paid money for, so why not enjoy it!
I can also masturbate lying down, or sitting on the toilet, but I don’t find those as easy (in fact, my back pain and disability mean that I can’t lie supine for very long). My computer chair is comfortable (enough – although I need a new one!), and because it’s what I’m used to, it’s what works best for me.
Not that I haven’t masturbated elsewhere, of course!
5) My favourite place to be is…
Part of the cue and I genuinely don’t have an answer to this.
I like to be with my friends and really miss the weekly pizza-and-movie nights we used to have. I don’t mind where we are, to be frank… it’s just that I like to be with them! That’s where home is, right? With the people you love?
Let me know your favourite places. I’ve been inspired by this!
Why do you write like you’re running out of time? Write day and night like you’re out of time? Every day you fight like you’re running out of time Keep on fighting in the meantime…
I like books, and I like log cabins, so I ought to be in this picture.
I am a lazy blogger, but one of the things I like to turn out is a good meme.
Some of the memes I find difficult to write as I have little to no interest in the subject(s), but I have been trying to do this meme every week, even if sometimes I find the questions hard to spin out answers for. This one should be easy, though, since it’s about writing. I’ve written stuff.
1. When you need to get serious, good writing done, where do you go?
I do practically all my writing at my desk, so I don’t really have a place.
What I do have to have when I’m writing is an atmosphere – preferably a silent one. I don’t write well when there’s noise, and as a lexical person I can’t write alongside songs. If I want to have anything on, it would have to be classical music, but I prefer to write in a silent, calm room.
It also helps if I have a drink and/or snack with me. Usually tea, of course.
2. Where do you look for inspiration to write?
You can’t wait for inspiration… you have to go after it with a club.
A lot of my writing is based on things that have happened to (or, more commonly, around me). I’ve got a good long-term memory, which manifests in posts about things that happened in sixth form or thereabouts – which you will probably have noticed if you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time. So, if I’m really stuck, I’ll plumb the depths of my memory.
It doesn’t always happen like that. Every now and again I’ll come across something related to sex, love, dating, etc. and I’ll make a mental note: sometimes the best content comes out of nowhere!
3. If you could add anything to your office what would it be?
I don’t really have an office. I write in my living room, because that’s where my desk is.
I could benefit from: – a much tidier room – a clearer desk – a repaired light (the bulb has blown) – a clear side table
But I think I need to attend to all these myself; it’s not really something I can add!
I also need a remote for my DVD player. There’s only so much you can do with play and stop.
4. Are you an app calendar/planner kind of person, or do you still prefer a physical planner?
Raised eyebrow here at the use of the word “still”.
I am very much the kind of person that prefers something physical, and I am pretty much wedded to getting a new academic year diary every August. It’s comforting to be able to handwrite something in, it’s an easy reference, it doesn’t rely on battery life, and – apart from anything else – I can use it to log my wanks.
I’ve had a number of ‘phones that have a planner function – I’m using Android at the moment, which has a few built in, and the BlackBerry had a really good one – but I’ve never used one for anything more than morning alarms and “Doctor Who is on” reminders…
5. When you jot down notes, do you use pen and paper, or put it into an electronic device (eg. tablet, smartphone, etc.)?
As above, I much prefer pen (or pencil) and paper, and in fact I have a pot of random pens and a pad of Post-It notes for that very purpose.
Every now and again (because thanks, brain) I get an idea somewhere that isn’t practical – on the Tube, at a party, in the middle of a conversation at work – and I’ll have to resort to using my ‘phone. Even then, it will be nothing more than a couple of keywords, and I’ll still e-mail it to myself, so I’ll have a backup reminder.
It’s also cute that you think I jot down notes. I just open the compose window and go, you know that.
Bonus: March 15 is National Shoe World Day, a holiday that illuminates the need for quality footwear for millions of people around the world who go without. What quality pair of shoes would you pick to gift to someone?
It’s very difficult to buy shoes for me, because I’m a staunch vegetarian and don’t do leather (or silk, so I have to check fabric shoes as well). I have one pair of breathable rubber black loafers for work, one pair of multi-layer fabric trainers for the gym, and one worn pair of my favourite shoes – Converse All-Stars – for everyday wear.
I originally bought these because they’re not leather… and I’ve never looked back.
While I’m tempted to go with Converse for that reason, I realise this isn’t too practical as they are susceptible to rain, wear out quickly, and are tied by shoelaces, and not everyone can tie shoelaces. I’m finding it increasingly difficult to do so as my disability catches up with me.
What I would gift, then, is something practical, hard-wearing, easy to put on (slip-on loafers or fastened with Velcro) and – of course – vegan. Since my local branch of Shoe Zone recently closed down, it’s hard to find that sort of thing any more!
Say I love you, girl, but I’m out of time Say I’m there for you, but I’m out of time Say that I’ll care for you, but I’m out of time Said, I’m too late to make you mine, out of time
An appropriate picture since I’m the King of Cake.
Wow, okay, it has been a while since I did a blog post.
Time has not been on my side. I have spent two weeks caring for a fiancée with incredibly debilitating COVID-19 (worse than when I had it; I just slept most of mine off). The art project I’ve been doing has been pretty stop-start as a result of this, and although it started well, I genuinely don’t think I’m going to finish it before the deadline. I’m also still looking for a job and, every now and again, have a trial day somewhere that fails, or get given a start date somewhere that ghosts me.
I genuinely want to blog – it’s one of my favourite things to do, even here partway through year fifteen. However, with everything going on at the moment (even though it seems like I have a lot of free time, I genuinely don’t), blogging has had to fall on the back burner.
It’s fitting, then, that one of the few snatches of time I’ve got to knock out a post is on a Tuesday, when there’s a handy meme to get the fires burning. I don’t know if there’s a theme with this one (it appears to be “savour”, as evidenced by the image), but it genuinely allowed me to get my geek on.
1. What did you last savour and when?
Three Batman-themed OREOs. Just now.
OK, I will explain. There are now OREOs with Batman’s face on them, to tie in with the upcoming release of The Batman. They don’t actually taste any different from normal OREOs, nor do they cost more. But I am a gullible fool, and yesterday I was having a Batman marathon thanks to a box set I got for Christmas, so in the evening I saw a pack and bought it.
J’onn and his one true love.
I’m still not going to get over the fact that they’ve never made Martian Manhunter OREOs. I mean, he’s the superhero who actually manages to savour them.
2. Athletic, mind-blowing sex or slow, sexy romantic sex, what do you want right now?
Can’t slow, romantic sex also be mind-blowing?
In any case, having not had sex for about six or seven years now, any type of sex would be good for me. I’ve put on a bit of weight and lost the use of my left arm since, though, so I’d be a little nervous about not being that good any more!
(Is my excuse, anyway. I’d probably just get her to orgasm via oral and then see what happens.)
3. You are being interviewed and asked to comment on sex work. What do you have to add to the discussion?
Nothing that hasn’t already been said, although I have plenty to say about sex work.
I was once stopped by a madam in Soho who offered me girls, and when I politely declined, boys. She also said that I didn’t actually have to have sex – she could offer massages with or without happy endings to savour – but I again politely said no, thank you, I was in a bit of a hurry anyway, but thanks for thinking of me.
I couldn’t fault her sales patter – offering viable alternatives according to the customer’s needs – but I think she was as surprised as I was that I stopped to talk to her!
4. Should sex work be decriminalised?
Yes, and it should have been already.
I’m astounded that it hasn’t been. From what I can tell, criminalisation is dangerous, the Nordic Model is overly regulated, and because there are so many different types of sex work (full-service isn’t the only type – do you count a porn star or an erotic masseuse as a sex worker?), it would be impossible to introduce a law to protect them all.
Decriminalisation is the only way, and it’s only really because of the social stigma that this hasn’t been given a higher agenda. I’m saying this now: if I ever become an MP, it’s the first thing I’m mentioning.
5. Fill in the blank. Don’t…
…throw fruit at the computer. Don’t what? Don’t throw fruit at the computer. Don’t what? Don’t throw fruit at the computer.
Who do they think I am? Some kind of fool?
(If you know what this is, I love you.)
Bonus: Are you bored with people who are successful and unhappy? Why?
No; people who are successful and unhappy are fascinating. It’s interesting to see exactly why people can be emotionally down when economically up, and it’s also a refreshing antithesis to the “greed is good” philosophy of the ’80s and the already-rich silver-spoon élitism of the Tories.
I’m more bored with those who are successful and happy, or even worse, successful and smug about it. Even if (and this is overall not the case) they have actually worked for it, the way they overtly savour their wealth is sickening.
Of course, a lot of the most interesting people I don’t know have no idea what they want to do with their life. There are a lot of cultural riches to be found within the average Joe, and so many more than you will find behind the vacuous smile of someone so often in the spotlight.
I opened the door The place was crawling with dwarfs I said, “what is this, some kind of orgy?” But she just smiled at me as she picked up a dwarf and greased him up Then she started wanking off Dopey…
For want of content your perusal, I’m once again doing this meme. Yes, I too was slightly disturbed by the title of this one. I have, incidentally, once been in a production of Snow White and Several Dwarfs (we had eight), but I’m fairly sure that’s not what this is about.
My fiancée is fairly short; let’s go with that.
1. What is one thing your significant other could do to you to rock your world?
Sexually, or generally? This is one of those open questions, so I’m not sure how to answer that.
If we’re talking sex, then the thing that affects me the most is having my nipple sucked while I wank myself off. I like having sex, of course, but since that isn’t happening, this is as close as we’re going to get. Not that this has happened, either.
On a more chaste, but no less intimate, note, they could let me spoon them in bed. We used to do this all the time, but it doesn’t happen any more.
2. You have been granted the super power you always wanted. How will you abuse that power? Why?
I’ve always wanted to be able to fly. Ever since I was very young, that’s been one of my desires – as a child, I was obsessed with the concept of freedom. Being able to take off from the ground and go anywhere was a way of escape.
I’d abuse this power by going places. I’ve always wanted to visit Japan and probably never will, so that’s the first place I’d go. I’d also be able to visit all the people I know abroad, like my hairy friend in the USA and my cousin in Australia. I’d also do a few good deeds, like Moe at the end of The Homer They Fall.
Of course, I’d save a packet on commuting too.
3. For sexy play, would you rather be tied up or tie someone else up? Why?
On the few times that I have indulged, I’ve always been the one doing the tying up. I can’t stand being constrained – it does odd things to my brain – and, anyway, I don’t like pain, and the tight knots experienced practitioners use always look painful.
4. What is your best physical and non physical asset?
My best physical asset is, unequivocally and without doubt, my eyes. They’re a lovely shade of medium blue and shine ‘just so’ in the light. They even look pretty when I cry, which is a feat all on its own. I’m not happy with the rest of my body… but I have good eyes.
My best non-physical asset is probably my honest, unwavering heart.
5. Referring to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, if they were naming new dwarfs beyond the seven, what would your name be and why?
Trivia time! Disney had a long list of dwarf names before deciding on seven; he rejected a lot of alternate adjectives before making his choice.
I think I’d probably be “Pretentious”. You don’t really need to do much except reading my blog to see why.
It’s the second week of 2022 (possibly – time has very little meaning any more) and the first time I’m doing this meme. Hmmm, that isn’t as snappy a sentence as I thought at… wait for it…
…at first.
When you’ve finished rolling in the aisles and being carried out helpless with mirth, would you mind reading the rest of this post? Cheers.
1. First app you check in the morning?
This is Twitter. I don’t have any other apps on my phone – I use Facebook, but rarely, and primarily on my computer, and I don’t have any other accounts – ie. I don’t use Instagram, Snapchat, TikTok et al. (edit the preceding sentence according to the year). I routinely check Twitter, since it genuinely is my only link to the outside world.
I’ve got WhatsApp too, which I guess is an app of a sort, but I’ll check Twitter first.
2. First kiss location?
In her bedroom, on her bed, just after asking her to be my girlfriend. I’d never been kissed before, and I had no idea how to do it. It was messy, deep and surprising – I didn’t even imagine that there would be so much tongue – but so, so good.
She kissed me again afterwards, which was also a surprise!
3. First major purchase over £1,000?
I don’t think I’ve ever bought something that cost over £1,000 (not even rent – the rent here is £950 per month and the deposit was paid by my grandparents)… and, even if I wanted to, I would never be able to afford that!
My biggest purchases have been video game consoles. My Switch set me back a couple of hundred.
4. First song choice in a karaoke song book?
For someone who can’t shut up once he’s started singing, I’ve got very little experience with karaoke. I know all the lyrics to the greatest hits of James, so I’d go for those (as long as it isn’t Sit Down), and I’d sing anything by Smash Mouth by virtue of them being my second-favourite band. But, generally, I’d sing anything.
The first and only time I’ve ever tried karaoke, I sang Gangnam Style. No, I can’t read Korean, but I knew the words phonetically… to a point, at least.
5. First internet screen name?
Benvolio. We were studying Romeo & Juliet (and I was reading Doctor Faustus, in which he also appears), and it seemed an appropriate enough sobriquet.
6. First break-up reason?
Oh, well done on opening up that wound.
This is still unresolved, and won’t ever be. I think the most simple reason is “dumped me for someone else”, but I’m fairly certain there were multiple other reasons for what happened. She was reading The Ethical Slut before breaking up with me, and I’m pretty sure that was a contributing factor.
The fact remains that I was being cheated on (and I knew it was happening and didn’t say anything on the assumption that it would end soon), and as a result, I find it incredibly difficult to trust my partners, especially if they have a celebrity crush.
It’s a silly thought, but it stems from how my first relationship ended. One word from anyone else and they’d be out the door.
7. First concert and how old were you?
Green Day 2002. I was 17.
I’ve been to a lot of concerts (I almost saw Staind before Green Day, but Music Man also promised the ticket to his then-girlfriend), and prior to this I saw a lot of classical music at the Barbican. I am assuming that you mean rock concerts, though, and therefore The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party at the age of 12 probably doesn’t count.
It took me long enough to get to a concert. I had tickets for blink-182 the previous year, but then 9/11 happened and all the flights got cancelled. Then Tom broke his back. I eventually saw blink-182 in 2004… I was going to go with my girlfriend, but – well, see above…
8. First crush?
My first crush was a very quiet girl who sat in the most inaccessible corner or every classroom. I had a crush on her for a very long time, actually, and until the end of school, I still sneaked a few looks at her. We eventually became friends.
At the time, I gave all my crushes code names. Hers was The Zebra Project.
Bonus: What was the title of your very first blog post?
It was “I really don’t understand some people.” The first sentence was:
It’s so unfair, sometimes. I try my damn hardest not to get so upset about everything and yet some things just whistle by.
2001 ilb
Most of my earliest blog posts were angsty teen rants from a boy who desperately wanted a girlfriend – more intimate and love-fuelled posts than I had in my paper diaries, but still on a public space and intended to be read. My early blog posts weren’t good reads, but looking back on them, they do provide something of an insight into the teenage male mind, and maybe that proved useful…
First post of 2022 and it’s a meme. ILB, you predictable bastard.
In any case, this is my attempt at taking part in the new Five Things meme, with thanks to Julie from MPB for coming up with the concept. The prompt is “journals, diaries and planners.” I can do that, I’m sure.
When I was in my teens, before I stated blogging, I kept a journal. I wrote it, diligently – almost religiously – every single day. Occasionally my entry would be a couple of sentences (on two occasions I wrote “too tired to write”, read: “too lazy to write”), but more often than not, I managed to fill the whole page. So here ae five things about my handwritten journaling days.
1) My journal was written purely to entertain.
From the instant I started writing, I knew that the intent was for my journal to be read. Once it got out that I had a journal, I knew people would want to read it, and I knew that I liked to write. My aim wasn’t to keep secrets, nor was it to mention anything too explicit. I wanted my writing to be read and I kept that in mind.
2) Once it was read, it became wildly popular.
Maybe “wildly popular” is a little hyperbolic, but for a while, it was one of the few things any of us brought to read on residential trips, holidays, etc. – and I certainly took a few of them. Since I didn’t mind my journal being read (and it was written for that purpose), I was quite pleased to let it be passed around the group and let everyone read my words. (This may come as a shock to you, but some writers are self-obsessed, wanting people to actually read their content. I know: amazing, isn’t it?)
3) Other journallers were confused by my attitude.
Our year 9 History teacher once asked if any of us wrote a journal; three hands went up. His question was about reading – did any of us let anyone else read their diary? Both girls who had also raised their hands confessed to letting each other read (they were best friends who, at this point, lived together), but that it was private. I said, truthfully, that my journal was an open book (quite literally, heh…) and that I would willingly read bits out if people wanted me to. Neither girl understood this, but they both ended up reading it.
4) I wrote my journal with an incredibly specific style and structure.
This is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else ever do. Every journal entry had to have:
(i) A title – usually a pun, or a sentence, or a couple of key words… like a blog post does. This would range from “Xmas Day” (my very first entry) to things like “Venture On In!” (a Venturer day out) or “Droit du seigneur” (when we’d first done sex ed in school and I was amused by it). I did this accidentally at the beginning and liked it so much I carried on doing it for all three journals I managed to fill.
(ii) A quote of the day. This was something funny, clever or memorable that somebody had said throughout the day. My favourite was “I shall never make soap”, but that takes a bit of explanation to justify.
(iii) In later years, I’d add a statistic or fact (one that I knew; I was too lazy to look anything up) relevant to the day’s events. This went after the quote and was rarely a replacement for it…
(iv) …and/or a “moral learnt”, which was later still and only really appeared in “Journal III”, the final one. This was intended to provide a bit of humour – everything I write is meant to be humorous, really – but throughout the year it became more and more bitter and self-deprecating.
(v) Cross-posting appeal. My first diary was a little longer than my second, so I would write each entry twice: once in my first journal, and then again – word for word – in my second. Towards the end of my third, I started a LiveJournal, and when I didn’t have anything new to add for a journal entry, I would print out that day’s LJ entry and stick it on the page.
5) It wasn’t just a journal.
Because I’m… well… me, although my main intent was to write an entertaining, humorous, self-deprecating account of my life, my journal was used for more. Every now and again, snippets of fiction that I was working on, bits of a playscript (I finished the play, eventually, after photocopying journal pages), song lyrics I’d written, schematics for a droid I wanted, or emotional short-form poetry.
I started my journal when I was 14. At 16, I genuinely wasn’t sure who I was or what I wanted to be… but I was pretty certain that I could write anything I wanted. About anything. In any form.
