Dearest beloved,
I love you today and every yesterday.
I love you tomorrow and every next year.
I love you now and before and ever after.
I love you then, there, everywhere.
All at once.
I love you day and night and dusk and dawn and twilight and just before daybreak.
I love you in the moments as I gain slumber.
I love you in the moments as I leave.
I love you in and out, past and through.
I love you head to toe, dread to heel.
I love you when I wake and when I lay.
I love you in my dreams, in the night and the day.
I love you through and out, through and through.
I love you with me and worlds apart.
I Iove you inside me
I love you on top of me.
I love you next to me.
I love you most in front of me.
I love your ers and ums, your darting eyes, uncertainty.
Your need for certainty.
I love the me who loves you.
I love you and it sinks deeper into me everyday.
I love you in my memories, minted and yet to be made.
I love you day and night, months and years, all my weeks.
I love you every hour, on the hour.
I love you every second I am me.
I love you fast and slow.
I love you as dew loves rain as rain loves sea as sea loves cloud.
Inevitably.
Inescapably.
Indefinitely.
I love you in all three panels of the diptych.
I love you in heaven.
I love you on earth.
I love you in hell.
I love you everywhere I am.
I love you everywhere Iām not.
Everywhere I've been.
Everywhere I will be.
Utters of I love you on my every passport stamp.
Train ticket.
Bus fare.
I love you on paper.
I love you in the air.
I love you thirty-four thousand feet in the sky.
Every time I'm thirty-four thousand feet in the sky, I love you.
Every time I'm not thirty-four thousand feet in the sky, I love you.
I love you through space.
I love you in song.
I love you in numbers and letters and characters I can't pronounce.
I love you in ballads before our time and poems from centuries past.
I love you in four character chengyus that explain entire phenomena, lifetimes of wisdom wrapped up in just four characters.
The domain is infinite and so is the range.
Every x is I love you.
Every y is I love you too.
0 notes
His and mine and ours
Skin as dark as laid asphalt, so abundant with richness, with opacity. Head in chest in arms in neck in elbow in thighs in calf in toes in lips in tongue in vagina in cervix in curled toes in bedsheets soaked through with passion and hunger and lust. His penis in a condom in my vagina my tongue in his mouth his fingers through mine his scrotum in my mouth my tongue caressing his cock his marble gaze into mine my nipples in his tongue his hands on my ass my arms around his neck his hands on my hips his hands on my waist my teeth in his skin his sweat on his sheets my blood on his towel his semen in his condom my fluid on his mattress his sweat on his forehead his chest his back his torso my forehead my chest my back my torso. Our sweat everywhere. His groans in my ear my heaves in his walls my screams in his mattress his cock in my vagina his cock in my vagina his cock in my vagina his cock in my vagina our orgasms in each other.Ā
0 notes
In lieu of āI love youā,
Safe travels.
Hope lifeās been treating you well.
...
Have you read Proust?
Have you read Ulysses?Ā
Sweet dreams.
...
You go be serious, Iāll go be silly.
0 notes
I was staring much too close as per museum guidelines at one of Pollockās pieces when I welcomed into my consciousness the thought of how paintings represent distinct moments in time.
The exact moment of first contact between paint and canvas, the exact moment the last drop of paint dries, the exact moment the signing pen lifts off from the artistās signature and renders the painting complete.Ā
It felt all too akin to the exact moment two pairs of lips meet for the first time, the exact moment one falls in love, the last text exchanged by a pair of lovers who only used to be. Iāve often wondered if falling in love happens instantaneously or little by little. It must be little by little at first, all surmounting to a moment when it becomes solidified, definite, yes, I absolutely, unequivocally, without an ounce of hesitation in mind, am in love with you. The moment the paint becomes OK to the touch; hardened, solidified, exiting its previous liquid state into a new way of being. Solid. And once solid, one could never take it back to its previous form. So too, could we ever tuck love back into the tube?Ā
0 notes
Another Poem About You
A mid autumn child
where our similarities start
When you arrivedĀ
the leaves were still a pulsating redĀ
endeavouring attachmentĀ
still hanging, still hanging
By the time I graced this earth
theyāve lost their battle
branches barren and dry
leaves crisp, brittle.
You leave the sweetest,
most complex aftertaste
still bringing tears to my eyes
upon so simple a thought
A muse years afterĀ
I last had your tasteĀ
Itās so sweet
Knowing that you love meĀ
Though we donāt need toĀ
Say it to each other, sweet
If my memory hasnāt betrayed me
you taste of an uncertain turmoil
kind, tortured, velvety turmoilĀ
The complexity of an expertly blended scent
slightly psychedelicĀ
Unsavoured
Unfavoured by the unversed
Tis not an obsession
I wish it were
how much more poetry Iād write
how many more pages of proseĀ would grace these leather bound pagesĀ
my Tumblr drafts.
But obsession it is not
Attachment it is not.Ā
not a fervent battle against the reaper
but dying peacefullyĀ
smiling six feet under
alas one that lives is more than all that has passed
So I sit glancing out into the first week of October
Wondering how many more poemsĀ
How many more yearsĀ
How many more OctobersĀ
shall be spentĀ
yearning a lost you.
you introduced me to a side of myselfĀ
Iāve only the pleasure of meeting
Through your acquaintance.
Patience, kindness,Ā
Though I sometimes wonderĀ
If I am simply good atĀ
imitating those I admire.Ā
They say people are like passengers on a train
going only one way
sharing segments of your journey with many
Some will stay many stops
Few til you rise
But what are the rules
for stepping off the trainĀ
with them?
As Celine did
for Jesse
for Vienna.Ā
āEveryone has a Josh...ā
I was once told.Ā
But Iām certain
thatās reservedĀ
only for those in the positivesĀ
with Miss Karma.
Have you ever loved so hardĀ
It was equal parts gratitude?
For the love
Too for everything elseĀ
It is a feeling rivalled
only by being by their sideĀ
I love thee not for thine
DecorationsĀ
for what thy does for me
for how thy makes me feel
I love you
For all that you areĀ
And all that you are not
I love thee for thine totality
for All that youāve ever beenĀ
All that you are
All that youāll ever be
All that you could ever be.
Every single iteration,
in every single timeline.
But what good is such great love
When you are not here?
Poetry fodder.Ā
I am certain I will love othersĀ
I am certain I will love more
of what I am most certain
I will remain loving you.Ā
-
Food, company, time, memories. Wishing you only best; I shall have nothing less for you, for you whom I love. Happy birthday.Ā
0 notes
I like old things
Clothing thatās hung in closets other than mine
Tarnished jewellery
Lovers who know what Iād order off a menu
Friends with whom to remember the past.Ā
I like leather
I like oudĀ
I like top notes that read of an oriental spice rack.
I like high thread count cotton
and silk
and linen and wool
I like ordering San Pellegrino
with a splash of lime and leaves of spearmint
In restaurants on the San Pellegrino
house plantsĀ
loftsĀ
and high ceilings
I like Vietnamese noodle soups
bun rieu and bun bo hue
tea flavoured dessertsĀ
hojicha and jasmine and rose
I like hydrangeaĀ
always carrying the most weightĀ
like that one person
in a first year group project
too, ranunculus, lavender
I like flying many hours to hold a lover
I like being held.Ā
I like the colour green.Ā
Mint green, forest green, pistachio.Ā
My grandmother also likes the colour green.
I like wild salmon and halibut and purple rice and a simple salad of olive oil and lemon juice.
I like the plant and veggie balls from IKEA.Ā
I like fall,Ā
walking through its chilliness by myself in new cities of residence.Ā
I like buying unique objects.
hand made ceramics.
Painting nude self portraits
singing in contralto.
dancing to sultry R&BĀ Ā
shaking my booty
a booty Iāve had to learn to shake,
Learn to love
I like powder days and blue bird days
I really really like Lululemon.
I like perfume, sophisticatedly blended
I like the one named after me, Lucedar Wood.
I like he who blended it.Ā
I love him too.Ā
I think Iāll like New York.Ā
I think Iāll like Paris.
Even though I liked neither all the times Iāve been.
I really like Norway.Ā
I really miss D.C.
Something draws me back to Hong Kong.
a gorgeous Norwegian lover,
A Rusty bit of heartache.
I like nude beaches
and jumping off mastsĀ
skinny dipping in the ocean
and making grown men tap.
I like men who pick up the phone when I call.
I donāt like men who do not respond to my texts.
I like men who give thoughtful gifts.
I like men with long hair and glasses.
I like men whose minds eclipse mine
though Iāve only found one so far.Ā
I like women with short hairĀ
who donāt wear any make up
though a little mascara doesnāt hurt,
you know who you are.Ā
I like volumes and volumes of filled out journals and sketch booksĀ
medium nib Kaweco fountain pens
Ink wells
and wax seals.Ā
Hand written letters,Ā
love or otherwise.Ā
Books, especially the ones with pencil marked prices on the top right corner
of the first page
Books that were a little slutty in their lifetimes,Ā
rummaged by many
opened by more.Ā
Philosophy.
Of Seneca and Aurelius and others Iām embarrassed to say I donāt know enough of.
Ruby WooĀ
Caberanet francs and spicy mezcal margaritas.
Especially the one made by Crybaby on Dundas,
A Pina Colada by Mother on Queen.
I like Toronto a lot
Somewhat begrudgingly.
I like being superstitious
Believing that every time I see a Harvard sweater or someone with locs it in fact means that youāve been thinking of me.
I like celibacy
And sobriety
And being fiercely independent
Assembling IKEA furniture by myself even when the instructions have that X over the cute little figure assembling furniture by itself.Ā
Being softĀ
when the occasion calls for it.
I like spider guard into lasso
It reminds me of pulling in a lover close with my leg
and jumping guillotines.
Too similar to excited embraces after a long period of apartedness.
I like spending hours in a museum
pondering scenes in paintings
Iām certain Iāve seen in a dream of mine.Ā
Yves TanguyĀ
and Matisse
and Seurat
and Degas
and Kandinsky
and Monet.Ā
I like mid century modern
And chairs from the Qing dynasty.Ā
The lines of T.S. Elliot and Lu Xun and Ezra Pound
Vivaldiās four seasons.
I like Peter Cat Recording Co.
and Khruangbin
and Polo and Pan,
the way I discovered them with my good friend Johanne at a Steve Jobs themed party
her dancing to their hypnotic beats in burgundy velvet
in a remodelled row homeĀ
in Columbia Heights,
pre-pandemic.Ā
I still like all the friends Iāve lost
Love, even
Lovers still.
I like the way French sounds
And the way I sound in it.
I like frequenting restaurants owned by friends
And knowing that Iāve got at least 6 more loves left in me.
I like Chinatown produce
Sometimes it goes bad right after I buy it
But thereās something real about buying produce slightly past the peak of ripeness
And something wholly unnatural about buying green bananas already in body bags.Ā
0 notes
My love is slutty
OPEN in neon red and neon blue
My love is easyĀ
Liking 101, Infatuation 114Ā
Prerequisites not requiredĀ
No caviar, champagne bars, Michelin stars
Ā Ā Spend a day laying on the grass with her
Ā let her rest her head on your thigh
Ā Ā Ā She likes being horizontal
My love is naive
Or perhaps just forgetful
Perhaps intentionally disregards the consequences
Perhaps has a positivity bias
Throwing herself
At everyone, for anyone
As if she werenāt the most prized possession
Available to only the highest bidder.
No, she is like tissues,
Kleenex
A mundane offering to anyone and everyone who may need it
For you and you and you and you too.
Because I have plenty
and you have none.Ā
I once loved a man who guarded his loveĀ
who doesnāt tell his friends he loves them.
But in my houseĀ I love yous dress my every windowsill
Adorn my every granite countertopĀ
Line my every mantlepieceĀ
Is free and abundant and profuse
like oxygen
like fallen leaves in autumn
like sunĀ
in a desertĀ
water
in the sea
Scarcity breeds value
and my love is worthless
is cheap
is branded green and yellow and Dollarama
is the stuff on the clearance rack of a suburban outlet Ross
is a Walmart love
A Great Value love
A made in China love
Give a little
Get a lot
Great Value, cheap, inferior, generic
[Oxy]moronoic
Great value for money
Give a littleĀ
Get a lot
Maybe love is like companyĀ
More the merrier
or perhaps diamonds
precious not because she is rareĀ
but because sheās a controlled substance
Maybe people wouldnāt value love the way they do
if everyoneās love were like mine
Or perhaps simply I am a slut
Easy
Naive
Cheap
so my love had not in its destiny to be anything butĀ
But Iād gladly be easy naive and cheapĀ
To live a life filled with love
To rarely not be in love
To see love everywhereĀ
in every corner of everyoneĀ
and everything
To love
To be love
To embrace love and be embraced by love
To live in a rose tinted world for most of oneās life
Maybe thereās nothing wrong with made in China
Maybe there are others like me
Who too do not guard their love
Who too offer it like Kleenex.
Maybe.
And maybe when I meet themĀ
We will throw so much Kleenex at each other we become mummies
and never run outĀ
despite all the crying for having found kin.
And we will live in a cushiony white embrace forever
Infinite KleenexĀ
0 notes
He who loved me most in a past life reincarnated himself as flowers so I could fall in love over and over and over again.
At every street corner
Abundantly, preciously
0 notes
In life there are people you wish you wouldāve met when you were older, more mature. And people you wish you couldāve met when you were younger, more reckless, more naive. You wish you could take the lessons from the latter to the former, but itās always the other way around.
0 notes
And then one day you find yourself scrolling through Tumblr, playing the first ever Spotify playlist you ever made when you were sixteen, trying to catch a glimpse of what it felt like to be a teen. And then you realize how deeply, deeply ok you are, how you have become the person you had always wanted to be, the person you wished could have been your big sister when you were longer. You look at yourself and your surroundings and realize that you are an emotionally stable, healthy, functioning person in your 20ā²s. You realized that you turned out to be the person your teenage self subconsciously wanted to be. That despite all of the terrible things that have happened to you, despite all of the parental neglect and childhood trauma and abusive relationships, and unrequited love, you, as its written in your name, rose from the mud the most magnificent flower there ever was.Ā
It never felt like abuse while I lived in it because I didnāt understand what abuse was and I was in denial about it.Ā
0 notes
To All The Men I Thought Iād Loved/Maybe loved/maybe still love. And you.
Letās begin with the first one.Ā
Jacob. Jake. āJacketā. āJacā. John Sabel IV.Ā
French and Chinese, adopted by German and Chinese parents. Hawaiian. Tall, athletic, gorgeous. Perfect teeth, lips full like the bolster pillows stacked in my yoga studio, my yoga studio where I took him once and he scoffed at the middle aged men being nice to him asking if he enjoyed the class. Jacob, the name of the original biblical snake. And a snake he was indeed. I fell in love with him one summer in Vancouver when he was going into his fifth year at the University of British Columbia and mine, third. I told him I loved him one night when he was sleeping over and for one reason or another threatened to leave. I hadnāt even loved him yet but I thought that I had to say it to make him stay. He said it back and I think he meant it. Broken, damaged love that it was, I think that he meant it. Actually falling in love with him took place over the course of several months and a lot of manipulation. Emotional manipulation to attach me to him, to make me feel like I needed him, to make me feel like I would be nothing without him. But I didnāt know that at the time and even two years after the break up I still uncover things he did in the relationship that deeply, unconsciously affect me to this day. I thought I loved him. I thought I loved him as recently as a week ago when I made him call me so that I could tell him that I want to be there for him because IĀ ācould only ever love himā. Maybe I do love him. Two years after the break up Iāve still not escaped his emotional manipulation. I want to say that I loved him, that I really did, but I really did not. And he didnāt love me. If I can just admit that, which I just have, if I could just admit that to myself but I couldnāt because that would have meant that I wasted all this time emotion and energy and that it wasnāt even love in the first place that caused theĀ suffering. Little did I know that love doesnāt cause suffering at all. But continuing to lie to myself and to delude myself has only continued hurting me much past the point it should. I didnāt love him and he didnāt love me. I canāt stop deluding myself and others. Itās abundantly clear to others and I have simply been lying to myself. Of course we had good times. And times when we were both deluded into thinking that we were in love but gosh, thatās not what love is. Gosh, we were not in love. I did not love him and he did not love me. Perhaps in the lacklustre way we had conceived love to be at 19 and 22 but god, we were not in love. Just lust.
Rob. Robert. Bobbert. Robert Arthur Rust.Ā
I told Rob that I loved him over Wechat messages five months since the last time weād seen each other when I was in Vietnam on one of those cliche Southeast Asia trips. He is Norwegian and American and 6ā²4 and built like Poseidon. I met him one summer in Shanghai at a hole in the wall sake bar. My job then was to take care of a bunch of British interns and one week I told him that all the interns had the shits because of the food in Shanghai and we both had a good laugh about it. I asked him to go to Hong Kong with me and we kissed on top of Victoria Peak and god did I ever romanticize the shit out of that kiss. He was beautiful. Is beautiful. All the men I love or thought Iād loved are beautiful. All he gave me was uncertainty and thatās what made me so attracted to him because Iād equated uncertainty with love because of the way my mother was with me when I was young. After I told him that I loved him he said,Ā āWhy would you say that?ā, and promptly rescinded the message over Wechat. I donāt remember what he sent in place of it. I bought him a Vietnamese Hawaiian shirt because I thought I might see him because he too was coming to Vietnam at some point. This was right before the pandemic hit. We just missed each other. He has good taste in memes. I donāt love him. I donāt even like him. I think I simply tolerate him because of how attractive I find him. And how good the dick was. It was goddamned good dick. Some of the best Iāve ever had.Ā
Zhaoqi. No nicknames with this one. Or maybe ZQ.Ā
I didnāt love Zhaoqi. I donāt know why I had to tell it to him to confuse him. Well, because I really believed that I did at some point. But again, there were parts of him I didnāt like, didnāt fully accept, and for some reason I thought that non acceptance and love could coexist. It doesnāt. I texted him that I love him and he asked,Ā āin what way?ā. Which I thought was an odd question to ask but actually totally valid. Actually another man I told I loved asked the same thing. I donāt know how to answer it. Like, I like you as a friend but I also want to fuck you? I donāt know why I put a question mark thatās really all it is. I guess itās easy to see how I confused that with love.Ā I have a lot of love for him dearly as a friend but I donāt love him.Ā
Robbe Pappen.Ā
Robbe and I met at a jazz bar in Chiang Mai. I got way too drunk and asked him to choke me on the side walk and to fuck me right then and there. Like the Belgian farm boy he is he refused and took me home like a gentleman and fucked me there. I didnāt remember much of it, just the bottles of beer that I spilled, the stupid joke about fish goingĀ āblu blu bluā as the reason for why the ocean is blue, but in terrible French.Ā
Pourquoi la mer est bleu?
Parce que les poissons commeĀ āblue bleu bleuāĀ
He found it funny and congratulated me in telling a joke in French. He was so kind, so pure, so unscathed by the āblight of the worldā, was how I put it in a longer piece I wrote about him. I thought I loved him and heās definitely more grey area than any of the other guys. He was like a child to me, and I guess itās hard to not love a child.Ā
Kabir Virji.
The one I traumatized the most. The one who talks to his therapist about me. The one I claimed to have,Ā āpower bottom energyā, when in fact he only likes girls. You couldnāt blame me, I went to his dorm and drew wings on his eyes in black and gold. The one who asked me if I was his girlfriend and I said no. The one who thought we would hook up again. The one whom I thought I loved the most. The one whom Iād hurt the most. The one Iām most sorry about ever telling him that I loved him too. The one who came home with me one night and told me that he loved me five times in one day and who slept on the floor with me during that weird floor sleeping phase of mine and the one who is my twin flame. And the one that I told to look up what borderline personality disorder was because I had it. The one I have the hardest time facing.Ā
Ben
Everything about you was everything bad for me.Ā Ā
But I know better than to speak in superlatives. So many things about you were so bad for me. Your insecurity. Your indecisiveness. Your infidelity. Your wisdom. Your singular ability to help me understand myself. Your lust for me. My lust for you. But your insecurity, mostly.Ā
Santiago Perez
Santi and I had sex one night and the next day he told me that he wanted to be friends. I went home and asked him if he was attracted to me and he said,Ā āas a friendā even though he was wiping the pre cum off his cock and ejaculated sub ten strokes. I saw who he truly was and then took molly the next day and was convinced that he was the first last and only person Iāll ever love. I wanted to help him even though I could barely help myself at that point. I know not to do molly alone again because of that. He told me not to tell anyone but I told everyone. You are part of my story and I need to use my friendsā emotional labour to help me unpack this. Heās definitely traumatized because of me but like Tingting suggested, Iāll just think of it as reparations for all the trauma women as a whole collectively endure from men. She called meĀ āLady Karmaā that night and Iāve never loved a nickname more. He made me realize that I donāt actually hook up with my guy friends and then lose the guy friend, that I am the problem, that I am the one that abandons the friendship after hooking up and itās bad, after hooking up and it doesnāt lead to more hooking up, after hooking up and it doesnāt lead to a relationship. But also that these men werenāt really my friends at all, that all the friends I thought I had were merely experiments I probed for the possibility of a partner. That I was, unequivocally, the fuckest of boys.Ā
And you.Ā
I hoped that I would love you before I did and I knew that I would. I loved you when I didnāt even love myself.Ā āI love youā flowed out of my tongue like water out of a container too small to hold it. I will never forget your reaction when you heard me say it for the first time. Pure bewilderment,Ā āIs this actually happening right now? Is this real life?ā. I wish I had that moment recorded but all Iāve got is my foggy memory. We were both high as fuck and completely enamoured by what had just unfolded.Ā āI love you TOOā. I canāt believe I found it this young. I know what love truly is because of you. And I donāt want to love anyone else and I donāt want to even have or be with anyone else I only want you. Iām sorry that I had to go around and fuck up all of these other peopleās lives and my own before I truly knew that you are all that I would ever want but thatās the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Youāre the only person that I want. It has been you. It has always been you. Perhaps because I saw you through the lens of somebody who also loved you that it had such a big imprint on me, but as soon as I saw you in that video of Clairaās I knew that you were going to be mine. I remember sitting in the water station in the trail behind my house grilling you about wanting to talk to me then never talking to me and you later saying that thatās when you knew that you had fucked up. I remember the first selfie you ever sent me, in your purple headphones with you chubby cheeks, god I love you so much and I have never felt this much love for anyone without being under the influence of drugs this is all just pure love for you baby. Youāre the first man Iāve ever sent love letters to. My friend told me that a good measurement of love is whether or not you can spend a week in a cabin with them and from the start Iāve thought that my dream scenario would be just you and me in an apartment barely talking. And god, that tongue of yours. I love you so much. I only know love because of you. This isnāt chemically induced, itās not hormonally induced, itās not anything induced. Itās not divine, itās vastly, vastly human, and itās the most beautiful thing in the world. Itās so earthly and itās not anything grand or intense or dramatic, it simply is. I could go on and on about how much I love you but you would want me to go to sleep. Sometime I doubt whether or not I love you because itās not the love I know, because itās not intense or passionate or paraded, but I know that you love me because you are so patient with me and you care about all the bullshit going on in my life when it serves no benefit to you. You give me so much of your time even though itās the most valuable thing to you. Iāve been so blinded byĀ āimposters, pretending to be, pretending to knowā. That poem I wrote really is art, it came from the heart and it came from love. Maybe I do know a thing or two about love. Maybe I was right when I said that I donāt know much but I know that I love you. Maybe I do know that I love you.Ā
0 notes
Artemis: Whatās on ya mind b
The Fowl: I would like my thoughts masturbated.
Artemis: Jesus Christ
The Fowl: But itās just you and me, Artie. We only got each other to help each other out.
Artemis: Fine, Iāll give you a thought job.
The Fowl: ehehehehe
Artemis: Hit me
The Fowl: What is the meaning of being alone?Ā
Artemis: The opposite of codependency. Being ok on your own. Being ok with getting yourself off, physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually.
The Fowl: I donāt like it
Artemis: Well get used to it. You know that youāre the only one youāve got right? Well, youāve got me too but weāre one and the same.
The Fowl: But I can just go find another Really Good Looking Boy Iād Like to Fuck to be my sounding board and theyād be happy and Iād be happy and itāll be a win-win situation.
Artemis: *Glares at the Fowl*
The Fowl: What?!
Artemis: *Continue glaring*
The Fowl:Ā
Artemis:
The Fowl: Alright alright fine. That sounds.... unwise. But whatās the alternative? I need my mind fucked and licked and penetrated.
Artemis: Jesus whatās it to you?
The Fowl: No oneās given me an orgasm in eight months.
Artemis: Sigh. Me neither.
The Fowl: :(Ā
Artemis: :(
Maybe itās time to just get yourself a dildo bro.
The Fowl: Youāre probably right.
*left chat to search to dildos*
*The Fowl returns*
Artemis: How was it?
The Fowl: There were a few prospects but none of them had balls :(Ā
Artemis: Thatās ok weāll go dildo shopping with Lorilei when we see her.
The Fowl: :) Indeed!
Artemis: Are you still mentally horny?
The Fowl: :/ yeah.
Artemis: You need to get back to reading.
The Fowl: Yeah I should.
Artemis:Ā
The Fowl:
Artemis: Alright fine hit me. What other parts of your brain do you want jerked?
The Fowl: When will we be ready for commitment?
Artemis: When youāve committed to yourself.
The Fowl: I think Iāve done that already
Artemis: Iām unconvinced. Maybe in a year.
The Fowl: In a year, if Iāve shown that Iāve committed to myself for a year then I can look outwards?
Artemis: Letās see where we are in a year first.
The Fowl: Is that a yes?
Artemis: It most definitely isnāt. I think you need at least two years.Ā
The Fowl: In two years I will be 24 in human years. Thatās when I thought weād be ready to date again back when I was 20 in human years.
Artemis: Thatās right.
The Fowl: Wow, thatās exciting! I wonder who if will be!
Artemis: I think you already know.
The Fowl: Shiva?
Artemis: Yeah. Probably. Most likely. Who else would you commit to lol?
The Fowl: Well you never know....
Artemis: I think we both know that I do.Ā
The Fowl: *Blushes*
Iāll be turning 25 by then. Thatās scary.
Artemis: Lol you still thinkĀ āagesā areĀ āoldā
The Fowl:Ā
0 notes
The first year was definitely the hardest. We couldnāt see each other because of the pandemic, and not being in his presence gave me a lot of insecurities that dissolved as soon as I saw him for the second time on his first visit to Vancouver. I always doubted his love, and he really gave me every reason to, but also every reason not to. I doubted it because he had major communication issues; he would take hours to reply to my texts, would rarely pick up my calls, and when he was busy would go days without having time to call me. But in retrospect he gave me a lot of his time, which was his most valuable resource, and spent hours listening to me ramble about issues I was having with the other men in my life without an ounce of jealousy, blame, or annoyance.Ā
Many things were different from the second time I saw him compared to the first. The sex was probably the most noticeable. He hadnāt seen anyone since weād last seen each other a year ago, which I only found out when he came to visit. He claimed that it wasnāt because he was holding out for me but because of practical reasons of living with his parents during the pandemic and having low testosterone due to his unhealthy living habits. The sex we had in L.A. changed sex for me forever. He introduced to me a completely new way to orgasm. We fucked for what felt like hours in the August heat of Southern California to the hum of an ancient air conditioner, to old school Kanye, to jazz, to the contrived homeliness of an airbnb. His dick split me in half and my pussy felt tender, stretched and raw. He just kept going. If my parents were even an ounce more loving than they were I wouldāve told him to stop or at least to slow down but the person who gave birth to meās narcissism bred in me a relentless desire and spirit to please and to never give up pleasing.Ā
He wasnāt very good at dirty talking, but the way he spoke to me in L.A. demonstrated familiarity with the craft, and although he didnāt have in him the depravity I was so familiar with, he still let it be known, with words, that he was indeed enjoying what I was doing to his cock.Ā
The sex we had in Vancouver was very different. On my end, it held more love. It was love-making. For him, it seemed more goal-oriented. He didnāt fuck me for as long, so my pussy didnāt suffer the way it did a year before. But he isnāt one to go for multiple rounds so it left me rather unsatisfied. Last year, at least, there was no way my pussy couldāve taken more. Vancouver sex felt more intimate, but because we had recorded a large portion of it, it also felt less intimate, like a third party was watching. I guess in a way there is, our future selves. The frequency at which he looked at the camera was displeasing to me. I wonder why he peeked at it so often. I myself like to pretend that the camera isnāt there. I donāt like having eye contact with myself.Ā
Thereās never enough foreplay with him. Itās hard when I am so voracious for him and am generally O.K. with getting to the point.Ā
0 notes
I had found myself in an American diner in the middle of Oslo peeling crawfish with a man from the north of Norway who lives on an island, population 400. Not only was I merely peeling them, I had too, without provocation, peeled a few for him.
0 notes
Itās summer. You know what that means? It means that my favourite season is just around the corner. My favourite season of reflection. Things are happening for me to look back on as we speak. Iām excited. I will reap what I sow soon.Ā
0 notes
Iād run through nearly a thousand dollars worth of RMTs, chiropractors, physiotherapists, and all they kept telling me was that thereās nothing wrong with me.Ā
0 notes
Las Vegas is everything I despise about this world. Ostentatious displays of wealth, replicas of objects of actual substance, manufactured culture on the bastardization of actual culture. Instead of building on the land, with the land, the magnificent desert itās in, it decided to replicate Venetian canals and Parisian architecture... To what end? How devoid of soul must a place be to completely reject all that is, to invite all that isnāt, foreign objects, all to please people, to make a profit? The metaphor extends too literally to the people there, filled with botox and silicone. The natural beauty of the desert is jaw dropping, but most who visit Vegas revel on the strip, amidst cigarette smoke and in front of digital screens, playing a rigged game to earn fake survival tokens. My father always told me that you only cannot accept in others what you cannot accept in yourself. I always held that I despise ingenuity because I value authenticity, but because of what he says I always check myself. Perhaps I hate Las Vegas because I too desperately try to be something that I am not. Perhaps if I accepted myself for all that I am, that I too would be able to accept Las Vegas for what it is, even if what it is a denial of itself. Perhaps Las Vegas had to do what it had to do to survive in the desert. Out in the middle of a barren desert, it created an international tourist destination that brings in revenue for its land and its people. So what if itās all superficial? Perhaps my distaste for Las Vegas andĀ āfakeā people in general simply stems for a deeper distaste for myself, for the way I try to appear to come from money, be of upper class.Ā
Iālll admit that Iām fake as fuck. Practicing ways to introduce myself to appear a certain way, putting on various amounts of makeup to appear certain ways to certain people, adjusting my behaviour to appear a certain way. But perhaps that I understand that I ought be fit for all occasions is my nobility. That I understand what different social situations call for and can differentiate between them and adjust my behaviour and appearance accordingly is not fake, itās versatility. Iām not putting on a show or being deceptive when I first meet people, it is merely a showcase of the shinier parts of myself. That is still myself, full and raw, like seeing the side of a sphere where light hits. Itās not an act, itās not superficial, itās merely unnecessary to show everyone every side of one self upon first meeting them.Ā
I am authentic, for I deliberately try to show the less than shiny parts of myself, and that requires a lot of bravery and acceptance of oneself. All of life is but a contradiction. The same way there exists no right or wrong, there also exists no real or fake.Ā
āEveryone has a role to play in the theatre that is life.ā
ā
If I stopped asking myself, what would Blair Waldorf do? What would insert rich girl on instagram do, and simply asked myself, what would the best version of myself do? What would 8-year-old-me do? What would 80-year-old-me do? 80% of the time, the answer to all those questions would be: having a good time doing something else.Ā
I recently came back from a trip in Vegas to attend Electric Daisy Carnival, a three day electronic music festival, one of the biggest in the world. The trip was funded by a a brigade of Chinese gangsters. They put me and Lize up in the Bellagio, took us to the festival in a party bus that costed more money than my rent anywhere Iād lived, each way, for two days, bought tables at pool tables.Ā
The first party we went to was at Encore Beach club. Ironic, I thought, because Las Vegas is in a desert. The people there were so perfectly... middle class. They enjoyed generic club music that pumped out of loudspeakers, the illusion of wealth and power golden bottles of champagne and centre-stage tables exemplified. We started out at a table in the corner, but then moved to a table in the centre of the club. The head girl of the group later told us that she upgraded us because she was, āfeeling a little poorā, at the corner table. I guess she needed to be in the middle to feel... herself.Ā
My conservative estimate is that 85% of the people at that club were NPCs. Walking to and from the bathroom, I was being eyed down by various men, who stared at me the way I too stare at men I want to fuck. Human being really evolved way too fast. How is it that weāve deluded ourselves into thinking that we are intelligent when all we do is run around in circles to trying to maximize our mating potential?Ā
Cambridge was such a stark contrast to Las Vegas. People wore plaid wool coats and baggy denim and collegiate hoodies, clothing of actual substance, rather than cheaply made sparkly rayon that wouldnāt last ten minutes in a delicates cycle.Ā
What is this obsession of mine with ivy league colleges and final clubs and secret societies and country clubs and class? Truly, what is with my obsession with this? That isnāt me, why do I want to be it so badly? Insecurity, without a doubt, but why this brand? Why is it expressed through this?Ā
All this negative energy inside me, why? I ought occupy my time otherwise. Yesterday was my birthday and I am such a silly girl.Ā
I love Joshua Benjamin not because he is in a final club. I love him because he is the most considerate, intelligent, conscious individual I know. He is not great because he is in a final club, his greatness is independent of anything that he could ever be associated withā college, company, job title, degree. I would follow him to the end of the world without a single penny in our pockets. I really would. At the end of the day, finding a partner really boils down to whether or not they are nice to you. And Josh is so nice to me.Ā
My dad called me a few days before my birthday and asked how I would be celebrating and I said I that I hadnāt planned anything. He told me that Iām finally starting to, ę“»ęē½äŗ, which roughly translates to understanding life. Josh called me on my birthday and asked me how Iām celebrating and I told him that I didnāt plan anything and he said that thatās the best way to do it. I told him what my father had said to me and he said that one more similarity and he would just become my father and we could only be emotionally intimate.
Late fall 2021
0 notes