TMI Tuesday Substitution

I found this random list of questions and am going to answer them because this week's TMI is all questions that I either can't or don't want to answer. Nothing against them, but it's not my week.

1. What is more difficult for you; looking into someone’s eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someone’s eyes when they are telling you how they feel?

Wow, those are both tough. I'm not great at telling people how I feel, and I feel like everyone else probably feels the same way, even though I know that's not true. But I guess hearing someone else telling me how they feel while looking into their eyes would be slightly easier. Particularly if they don't seem to mind.

2. Think of the last time you were REALLY angry.

The past week had a few moments. One day in particular. It wasn't pleasant. But technically, this "question" didn't say anything about telling you, just that I should think about it. What kind of sadistic question is that, anyway?

3. You are on a flight from Honolulu to Chicago non-stop. There is a fire in the back of the plane. You get enough time to make ONE phone call. Who would you call?

Superman? I don't like planes. I guess I'd call my parents and tell them I love them. Boring answer, but true. It'd be hard just saying that to them, and not to other people I love, but I knew them first so they get the call. Sorry everyone else.

4. You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) I don't know. Possibly not, not because I don't want to burden people, but because I don't want to deal with the shit that comes of people knowing you're going to die. Or I might parlay it into pity. I'm not a saint, never claimed to be.

b) Possibly kill myself and get it over with if it looked like I was going to die painfully. Grim, but possible. Or I might try to do some of the things I've always wanted to do. Or I might be responsible and try to get my affairs in order. Or I might spend all of it in a haze of depression. I mean, hell, I know I'm going to die soon enough right now, and it doesn't exactly give me motivation.

c) Terrified. At least, I think I would be.

5. You can have one of the following two things: trust/love.

I don't think you can really have one without the other. You can have a type of love without trust, but that's not the kind of love I'd like. And trust implies a certain species of love, not romantic but fellow-human-love. Yes, I'm weaseling out of the question. But I really can't think of a way I'd like to have love without trust, and I like love a lot.

6. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

I don't like to work places like that. But I work in the theatre, and that means that the curtain rises when it does and if I'm not there, bad things can happen. Which is why I try to be early, because I'd have to try to save the dog. I think I could dive into the canal, pull the dog out, and be on my way in a few minutes, and if a few minutes is going to make a difference, then either I deserved to get fired because I was late before with bad excuses, or it's a terrible job and I'm better off without it. This is not saintliness, I'd like to stress. I'd save the dog, but I'd do it quickly and try to make it to work at a run, wet clothes and all.

7. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I'd like to go to Egypt when things have calmed down. Or Russia. I'm not much of a traveler; I'd really like to go some of these places as part of something which made me feel less tourist-y. Like if I got a job in Russia, or joined an archaeological excavation in Egypt. I'm bad at being a tourist.

8. Think of the last person who you really knew that died. You have the chance to give them 1 hour of life back, but you have to give one year of your life. Do you?

Yes. Not saintly; brutal calculus. That last hour of their lives, they could make better use of since they'd know it was their last hour.

9. Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend?

Maybe not. A friend with benefits, sure. I put out like crazy in the benefits department. But I sometimes wonder how good a friend I really am.

10. Does love = sex?

I'm not sure what this question is asking, really. If it means, "Does having sex presuppose love between the partners?" then absolutely not. I think sex is a great expression of love, sex without love tends not to be as good as equally-good sex but with love, and of course sex doesn't create love.

11. Your best friend dies, what would you do?

ANSWER Be sad. You want a detailed analysis, you're out of luck. I'm not great with death.

12. When and how was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt?

I try not to lie, which means that most of what I do is simply not say things. And I do that a lot. I'm good at certain types of communication, not so good at others. Before Sveta, I hadn't told anyone (besides people I'd already told) I loved them and meant it for a long time. Modern society seems hell-bent on making sure we're tactful, and that's no bad thing. But it does cripple our ability to tell people things that probably need to be told. It's figuring out when that's true and making it happen that are the problem.

13. What would be harder for you, to tell someone you love them or that you do not love them back?

It's hard to tell someone you don't feel that way, but I find it easier than telling someone I love them, mostly because I don't give out "I love you" lightly. See above.

14. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?

Orgasms. Followed closely by chocolate and red meat. The Trifecta of Doom, I call it. I've tried to give up all three in the past, and while I've quit things which were supposed to be hard in the past, I can't get over the big three.

15. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them?

I tell my family that all the time. But pretty much only them. I'm not a big "I love you" person. Perhaps I should be.

16. If you had to go back in time and change one thing, if you HAD to, even if you had “no regrets” what would it be?

I have the opposite problem: I have too damn many regrets. Because this has been too serious, I'd like to go back and make my young self stick to music lessons so I could be a rock star now.

17. Imagine. It is a dark night, you are alone, it is raining outside, you hear someone walking around outside your window. Who do you call?

Superman? No, seriously, I'd probably call one or the other of my parents if it seemed like a call-someone situation.

18. Would you give a homeless person CPR if they were dying?

Absolutely, because thanks to advances in modern medicine, one no longer has to be shy about giving CPR because it no longer has to involve mouth-to-mouth. You no longer have any excuse. Okay, so that really only applies to cardiac arrest, but how often do you see a homeless person drowning? I would probably go "Ick ick ick!" all the way through giving mouth to mouth to someone disgusting (although just who said that homeless people should be the gold standard of disgusting? In the current economic climate, pretty much anyone could be homeless). I never liked having to move the tongue out of the way for drowning victims. What can I say? I'm weird.

19. Are you old fashioned?

In some ways, very. In others, probably not.

20. Which would you choose, true love with a guarantee of a heart break or to have never loved before?

Superman? Damn it, rule of threes, I get a pass on that one. I guess I'd take true love, if the heartbreak is losing my true love tragically. If it's heartbreak because I love someone and they don't love me or leave me for someone else or something, that sounds pretty shitty.

21. If you could do anything OR wish for anything that would come true, what would you wish?

I'm not going to make the Steve Martin joke again. In all seriousness, with full knowledge that wishes don't turn out how you'd like, I'd wish to die happy. Whether I died instantly or way down the line, I'd like to die truly happy.

List of Things I Am Not

1. I am not dead, killed by earthquakes or hurricanes.
2. I am not receiving a tremendous amount of job satisfaction of late.
3. I am not surprised by #2, nor should you be because I seem not to receive tremendous amounts of job satisfaction often enough.
4. I am not giving up on blogging.
5. I am not inspired.
6. I am not breaking up with Sveta.
7. I am not entirely pleased with how I handled her last week home.
8. I am not in the mood to talk about that further.
9. I am not feeling overly sexy.
10. I am not getting laid with any degree of regularity.
11. I am not saying that I deserve to get laid at all, but I am missing the comfort of regular visits to nookie town.
12. I am not up to seeking out new partners, and my old partners are either MIA or not worth bothering with.
13. I am not as busy as I've ever been, which doesn't explain why I feel like I've got no time.
14. I am not sleeping well.
15. I am not going to do more filler just to keep my post count up.
16. I am a bit sorry that it came to this, but see #5.

Flash Fiction Friday - Developments

She and the camera were inseparable. She longed to document every moment in still, always seeking the perfect angle, the instant, the action. But she never saw herself; it was as if she were simply part of the background in every shot.

I saw us growing older, negative by negative: our joys, our sorrows, lovemaking, fights, reconciliations, celebrations. I saw her hair grow or cut as the days passed, but I never saw her face; the camera she saw through obscured the view.

Maybe she didn’t exist in my world. Maybe I was on film, and she was merely the instrument of my being. The viewfinder made the universe small.

---

Ivy rushed into my office, face flushed, panting. “I’ve got it, chief!” she said with triumph. “The perfect angle!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wanted a story on sex in the work place...”

“Okay, pitch it,” I said, unconvinced.

But she just grabbed me and dragged me bodily into the bathroom, then started ripping off my clothes. I put up token resistance when I saw the camera in her hand, but she made it clear she wasn’t trying to blackmail me.

In a short time, I was between her thighs, wondering why I hadn’t done this before, and she was taking shot after shot, before taking shot after shot.

---

These are both not terribly good or terribly polished, and they really don't deserve the picture, which would have made me hard if I had the requisite parts for that. But I'm out of gas. This week has been... interesting. Anyway, in barely under the wire, but in nonetheless.

I'm so tired right now, all I can say is Flash Fiction Friday.

TMI Randomness

Because I like random questions. Also, because I'm kinda busy this week, and getting busier. From the TMI blog via HEDONE.

1. When you go to a party, would you rather show up accidentally underdressed or overdressed?

That's actually a really good question. Underdressed (not undressed, which was my first impulse) is annoying because I look like a slob, but overdressed is annoying because I might be called on to participate in activities for which I'm overdressed, like swimming or volleyball or something. Either way, I'd stand out, and I don't like standing out at parties. I guess I usually avoid the whole thing by not going to parties, but in the case of having to make a decision, I guess I'll go with overdressed, because I clean up nicely and I'd rather people thought I was overdressed than a slob.

2. What is something you have won and how did you win it?

I won a history award in high school simply by being good at history. I didn't even know I was nominated, and then at graduation suddenly I got this award. It was nice, particularly because the teacher who put me in for it was a good teacher and I felt like it was his way of giving me a gift.

3. Do you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle, end, or top?

I squeeze from all over until a certain point, at which I start to roll. Perhaps too late.

4. What is something your parents used to say to you that you promised yourself you would never say–but now you catch yourself saying frequently?

I think it's less a specific thing and more a general attitude. I swore I would never look down on people because they were younger, never take shortcuts around the facts, that kind of thing. And yet I do it. It's just the way of things, I suppose.

5. What 3 lies did you regularly tell your parents? If applicable, what 3 lies do you tell your parents now?

I used to lie about certain aspects of my sexual life to my parents. I know, most people do, but in this case it was different because I was lying specifically, since I talked with my parents about sex when I was growing up. I'd lie about always using a condom. I'd lie about who I was with. I've lied about other things as well. Also, I lied to them about drinking and smoking too. I still lie about some of these things, if they come up. My parents are very, very anti-tobacco, and they'd be very disappointed in me, even now, or maybe disappointed in themselves for not stopping me.

6. What is something that you intended to do today but didn’t? Why not? Will you do it tomorrow?

Wake up earlier and get some things done. I was a wreck this morning. I'm still a bit of a wreck now. I'll likely be a wreck tomorrow too, so while things may get done, they'll probably get done late.

7. What is something that people do in traffic that really bothers you?

Honking. Contrary to popular belief, cars are not equipped with disintegration beams which activate when you honk, allowing you to pass through traffic. Nor are they provided with magic speed-up beams. Basically, honking should be reserved for emergencies, scaring away deer or other animals in the road, and possibly one brief blast of frustration when someone does something extremely stupid and dangerous. That last one is something I don't like, but do anyway.

8. Whose autographs have you collected? (You can stop at five, in case you’re an autograph hound or celebrity stalker).

I don't have any autographs. I've never really met any famous people in a context of autograph.

Bonus: Where do you go to find solitude, tranquility, or connection to a higher power?

Books. I'm not being flippant.

The Blargroll

I really hate blogrolls. Not on other people's sites, but on my own. Because I can't decide who to put on them. I mean, I want to put a blog up that I read, but there are also blogs that, while I don't regularly follow, I'd still like to give traffic. And then there's the ones that I follow but not avidly, and don't really feel like making a big deal out of them. And then others which really don't need my help in the followers or traffic departments. Sure, I could put on my blogroll that I follow some blogs, but really, who doesn't?

Still, everyone else has one, and I had one until I felt guilty about it and deleted it. So I'm bringing it back. It's down there somewhere. Perhaps you see your blog on it. Perhaps you don't. If you do, it means that I read your blog and care enough about it to tell everyone. I'm not looking for quid pro quo or anything. If your blog isn't, maybe it's because I don't know about it. In fact, let's assume that's why. Because I don't want to be insulting, and not every blog is my cup of tea, and I'm only one woman with a limited amount of time to read blogs let alone write them, and so if you're not there, it's a horrible oversight and I'll probably get around to putting yours up eventually. Not insulting.

See, this is why I hate the damn things. Because I feel like I should include everyone, and if I do that, then it's meaningless. You're all special.

I don't want to institute a "most recent N published blogs" rule, although I did think about it. But it's not really a solution, and I want to highlight a few blogs who may not publish ever ten minutes. Hell, I don't publish every ten minutes.

Don't expect the blorgle (I'm only able to stomach it if I mispronounce it) to grow to encyclopedic length. Don't expect it to have all the blogs I read on it. Don't expect much of anything. I hate blahgroles. Blarg. On a roll.

Dreams

"Lexi, Lexi, wake up!"

I was in a cloud. Or maybe I was in a puff pastry, eating my way to freedom; either way, his voice was destroying the fluffiness. I tried to lash out at him and managed a weak shudder and a groan, eyes still closed, the last vestiges of dreamland winging away to some other, more deserving girl, one who never lied and brushed her teeth three times a day and didn't call people names. I hated that girl right then. If she'd been there, I would have tried to kill her and probably would just have flailed around and groaned some more.

"Lexi, seriously, wake up, it's an emergency."

That got my attention. "Wha?" I said. Coherent, that's me.

"Wake up."

I finally mustered the muscular control to raise my eyelids slightly. Mike was sitting on the side of my bed looking suitably concerned. "Okay, I'm up," I said. In truth, if the house had been on fire at that moment, I would have traded my current state for the sweet embrace of death by smoke inhalation in a heartbeat. Mike was lucky I couldn't think straight.

"I'm going to explode."

This was the first inkling I had that maybe, just maybe, this emergency wasn't quite as dire as Mike thought. Because he'd been about to explode a bunch of times before and he'd never actually done so. "Mike, what the hell..."

"Seriously Lexi, my cock is about to explode. I had this dream about you and when I woke up it was like I was harder than I've ever been."

"You know, most guys would just jerk off and let me sleep."

"I can't. It wouldn't be right. I'm serious, I was dreaming about you and I woke up right in the middle."

"Middle of what?" I was keeping him talking until I could wrest control of my arms from wherever it had gone, so I could strangle him for waking me up because he was horny.

"You were taking all your clothes off and then you rubbed yourself all over with oil and waggled your butt in my face and I couldn't touch you, I just had to watch."

"This couldn't have waited?"

"You don't want to get fucked with the hardest cock ever? Ever? Because you'd be missing out. I guess I can go find some other way..." He trailed off.

Truth was, now that I was somewhat awake, I realized it was still dark out, and the house was sleeping, and I felt a stirring that suggested that, while my brain might really want to kill Mike and then go back to sleep, my body had other ideas. Not to mention the fact that I've never been good at getting back to sleep.

"The hardest ever?"

"Yeah. I mean, look." He stood up and I had to admit, it was pretty hard-looking. "It's been like this for a long time too. Every time it touches anything it's like it's about ready to go off."

I thought about it for a minute, looking at it. Then, finally, I rolled onto my back, kicked the sheet off, and said, "Okay, climb aboard."

I closed my eyes, not because I wanted to blot anything out or even that I wanted to go back to sleep, but the strain of keeping them open was too much, and in the dark it wasn't that easy to see anything anyway. So I felt his weight settle between my legs, felt the head of his cock run over my pussy lips and then slowly press in, felt him ease down onto me until we were wrapped in each other. "It's pretty hard," I whispered. "Think I'm likely to get anything out of it beyond an explosion?"

"I'll try." He didn't really thrust, he just ground himself against me, kissing me now, my breasts pressed against him, his arms wrapped around me, pulling him closer. I felt each electric tension as he pressed and then relaxed, not moving in and out, just tensing and then relaxing. And despite not intending to fall asleep, despite actually enjoying myself, remnants of the groggy state infiltrated my brain and turned the feelings into something more. They wove into my dreams, the pressure and release, until I wasn't sure whether he was still inside me or if he'd cum long ago and I was just remembering him there.

I came and jolted awake, and he was still there, moving a little faster now. My body had run away with my mind; it was like that falling sensation you sometimes get before you jerk awake again, except in this case it was a sudden release. I moaned; he kissed me and started thrusting now, once, twice, and then pressing deep and suddenly my focus was entirely on my abdomen, my hips, where a swell of heat rose and I felt every inch of him inside me pulse and spray jism into me.

"Was it worth it?" he asked after a moment, still inside me.

"No, of course not," I said. "You woke me up for that?"

Then I rolled over, cum sloshing inside me, and said, "Still hard? I'm not going back to sleep after that."

Flash Fiction Friday - Morning, Noon, and Night

We sat; she smoked while I wished she wouldn’t, a post-coital ritual that I couldn’t stand. “I suppose we’ll have to wake him up sometime,” she muttered, almost to herself. Her voice grated, rasping and signifying decay. I couldn’t stand myself either, for sitting there.

Her kisses had tasted like ashes. Surely no man was worth this, no fuck, no matter how intense, no matter how he made me scream, how the curl of his finger brought me close without question. And yet we sat at the kitchen table and waited for him to wake and want us again.

---

“What did we drink last night?” Gen asked groggily, cradling her head.

“You just can’t hold your liquor,” said Bonnie across the table, taking a long drag. “Here, have a bit of pep.”

Their fingers touched as the butt was exchanged, and the electricity was still there. “I can’t believe...” began Gen, maintaining the contact, savoring it.

“No, me neither,” Bonnie sighed. A pause, and then, “You were terrific.”

“Thanks,” Gen giggled, blushing, as she remembered. The curl of her lip caught Bonnie’s eye, and the two shared a private smile, cigarette forgotten, hands clasped.

---

You aren’t there. Sometimes I see you sitting across from me as I eat a lonely meal, a curl of smoke, a shadow, but you aren’t there. I have to tell myself this. You are gone.

Maybe you were never there at all. Maybe I’ve always been this way: alone, naked in the growing darkness, talking to myself. Maybe we never met, or you never existed for me to meet. I wanted to believe that I loved you, and maybe you loved me.

And now I have myself believing it. I can’t even say goodbye. You aren’t there.

---

First, let's get this out of the way:

That's Franz von Suppe's "Morning, Noon, and Night in Vienna" if you're not the type who plays videos or can't see the video or whatever. Doubtless some of you have heard it as part of Baton Bunny; Warner Brothers cartoons are a great source of classical education, aren't they? This song, and that cartoon, have shockingly little to do with anything. Just thought you should know.

This wasn't a cheerful picture. Not that I'm complaining, but the lack of cheeriness may, just may, have been reflected in my contributions this week. Or maybe it's my own lack of cheer.

I don't have a lot to say this week either, and I don't have a joke to close out with, so I'll just say that the rest of the gang are waiting over at Flash Fiction Friday headquarters and you should visit them too. Or if you are one of the gang, or would like to be, get over there and put your name in so I can read yours. It's so easy.