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Apparently, today is for rambling
7/13/2005 7:59 am Last Read: |
My brain is tired and so are my fingers. Last night was far too late a night, again. I know I'll be able to ramble on endlessly, but perhaps at some point in this I'll find a reason I'm posting at all, aside from some unasked-for addiction, a need to put words onto paper. Or a screen, as may be. I can't really feel these words, they're coming out so slowly that each one is like a drop within drops. What's that, you might ask? Watch when a drop of water hits more water. It makes a pretty splash and little tiny drops. I've always felt a little sorry for those drops. I mean, they don't really make drops of their own, nor do they make pretty splashes. Heck, then don't even really make rings around themselves. Everyone notices the big splash. Such a catch phrase, don't you think? Someone who makes a big splash, a stunning effect, more than your average joe, who dances around our star. Our poor joes. Joes. Little droplets. Ha. So anyway. Our little joes dance forever around their star, tiny droplets who exist for but a brief second in time. No one will ever remember them like they do the star, but the star will not be nearly as striking without the average joe behind it. And that leads us to our new question... Striking? That's what a lot of us do here, right? How many of us are open to it, how many of us share what we have completely? Do we have joes and Stars? Perhaps a female Domme, in her liquid-shiny latex, 6 inch heels and face of a Goddess perched upon a body that men crawl and weep for. Surrounding her are her slaves, men who kneel and cower, awaiting her every word. Would the lights show in her skin and hair so clearly if they weren't flourescents she was so perfectly posed beneath? Would her glory be freakish, or unnoticed, if there hadn't been men willing to bow before her and call her "Mistress?" At the same point. A woman, wearing silks in rapid motion, twirling 'round and 'round. She glitters with dust and sweat, the collar around her neck grayed with it. Is her special allure the fact that her Master bade her dance for the men around the table? That she must continue, regardless of her exhaustion, until he allows her to stop? Or is it titillating to know that if he is displeased, he might command her to another man for the night, instead of being rewarded with His embrace? Ah, who knows? I'm just rambling. Have a nice day.  Damn I can't draw a Kilroy.
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