This site is madening at times.  You take the time to choose, selective few enticing slaves, (I've sent four serious e-mails in two weeks, two frivalous ones) ones who list themselves as compatible, ones who say they are eager and seeking.  Three deleted unread, and only one of the frivalous ones is returened with any chance of being friends.  I will never understand .. women .. submissives ... slaves ... seems a waste of time more often than it seems a helpful tool.

well here we are again.  The experiment ended and I am no longer holding onto a slave; one who did well, but just couldn't live up to her promises.  I gave her every chance, I took what she offered, but she could not be what I sought.  So I am single again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJIuYgIvKsc&feature=g-all-f&context=G29b77d1FAAAAAAAABAA

Insomnia is a horrible thing.  When you are alone with your thoughts while the whole world is sleep it seems there is little reason for hope.  Desperation sets in and you think of writing poetry or worse things.  You blog ...
Well Tonight is one of those nights for me.  Its late, the world is crashing down around my ears, as my inner monologue tears me to pieces.  This is the kind of night, when a slave might be more than that ... might be my own personal one to listen too. 
(Call me a false dominant if you want, because I am human.  To all those who would call me fake ... you know what you can do.)

I have more than a few friends in this lifestyle.  It always amazes the double standards in such an open-minded lifestyle.  I could point at countless details from pro-Dommes to enforced servitude of straight men by bi-male masters and virtually everything in between.  I swear though if I get one more nasty letter from a beautiful lesbian because I looked at her profile… I’ll scream.

You know of all the fetishes I see on here water sports seem the less thrilling; and there seem to be so many people into it … Different Strokes I guess.

      Another crackpot theory, from another crackpot blogging ranter.

      I have a theory about on-line people, if you’d care to indulge me. It goes something like this:

People on-line are rude behaving to others as they do to Waiters

            (unless they are employed as one)

People on-line are free from the social responsibility of polite conversation

People on-line are free from the social repercussions of their actions

      These freedoms allow them to ignore what they have learned, and become who they are.  The vicious, the cruel, the commanding respect without offering it — all these are symptoms of being able to log-off and delete the account name, only to return in a few minutes with a new (or prepared) alternate account and belittle their own performance.

      Respect is earned, by giving it.  Without respect given, even slaves know they cannot give respect in return.

I hope everyone had a

Happy Leap Day

      It’s the middle of the morning again.  I awoke too early.  Now after being an insomniac for so long, I find myself sleeping at a reasonable time, but awaking at a ‘gawdawful’ hour for no reason.  It is easy to entertain oneself quietly on the computer for hours, waiting for the day to catch up … so here I am.

      Maybe it’s a brain addled by an erratic sleep pattern I’ve never been able to pin down; but there is a vicious streak in me at times, that is not mean — but strong, not cruel or sadistic — but unbridled and flies in the face of the words put to me by others.  It is childish rebel part in all of us, that when someone tells me not to a do a thing — makes me want to do a thing more.  It is so tempted by the words of all too attractive model/lesbians seen all over this site … temped to hit on them, even though I know the mail will be deleted (because they are largely men pretending) …

      It’s the bad part of a non-pay site I guess.

… so here i sit at 5 AM …

… somewhere in a lonely hotel room

there’s a guy starting to realize

that Eternal Fate has turned his back on him

its two am  …

… the intros to old songs running through my head …

… its two am, (its two am) the fear is gone (the fear is gone)

i’m sittin’ here waiting, (i’m sittin’ here waiting) the gun’s still warm (the gun’s still warm)

maybe my connection is tired of taking chances …

… and i wonder what the hell i am doing here …

… yeah there's a storm on the loose — sirens in my head
i'm wrapped up in silence — all circuits are dead
i cannot decode
my whole life spins into a frenzy …

… whats truly disturbing is i can feel what little mind I have left slipping away — i am not going crazy, i have not lost it — it just feels like it …

help i'm steppin' into the Twilight Zone
the place is a madhouse
feels like being cloned
my beacon's been moved under moon and star
where am i to go
now that I've gone too far

… on the road, 1,200 miles from home with nothing but an empty six-pack, a box of long stale cigarettes and my mind to keep me company … 

help i'm steppin' into the Twilight Zone
the place is a madhouse
feels like being cloned
my beacon's been moved under moon and star
where am i to go
now that I've gone too far
soon you will come to know
when the bullet hits the bone
soon you will come to know
when the bullet hits the bone

        Maybe it’s because I haven’t really known love since her.  She was the kind of woman who can spoil you in love.  How it started?  I don’t remember.

        I was there in a house that seemed like a cross between my Grandmother’s and Her Parent’s home.  I was invited to stay, and she knew I’d be there.  I arrived sometime in the mid morning; seeing as her parents live 800 miles away, I guess I had left very early.  I was asleep in a bed.  I awoke when others arrived at the home.

        It was weird.  When they returned, I rose, changed once more back into the clothes I had traveled in, and walked into the living room.  I saw her cousin sitting in the chair I just received from my Grandmother’s house.  I sat down in front of the fire place.  Tending the fire, I heard her come in. I stood, and turned and there she was.

        Dressed in a pink strapless dress, a little see-through (for some reason — perhaps how I knew it was a dream) I could see the shape of her breasts, and her nipples were noticeable.  She looked at me, with a bit of remorse … no not remorse, perhaps sorrow at a lost chance at love, but one who had long ago acknowledged it.  She said something, with a half-smile. 

        The words were lost, because that is when I awoke.  Damn dreams of her, still haunting me after 10 years.

        There was nothing but the silence of the night to distract me from my thoughts.  The silence and the all encompassing smell of the nights activities that filled the little room in which I laid.

        I lay in bed as the hours of the morning passed.  The luscious sleeping form next to me a gift from Heaven, to reward me for some deeds in a past life; or perhaps she was a Succubus a seductress sent from Hell to tempt my soul.  If damnation is so sweet, I have fallen …

        I gently slipped my fingers across her cheek, tender, almost tickling her relishing the feeling of her delicate soft skin, on the back of my fingers.  I had spent the night in her arms. Our lips embraced; our skin finding common ground and loosing individuality.  I had never wanted to be so close to anyone.

        I was afraid to move; afraid that if I disturbed her, like dream she would fade, and I would be alone once more.  I stared at her as she slept.  My eyes drinking her beauty, as she shifted in her sleep, I pulled the thin sheet from her naked form.

        I could feel my body, though exhausted from the night, becoming aroused once more at the sight of her.  Her beauty tempting me to sin again … and again …

        I brushed my hand over her side, again as soft of a touch as I could manage.  Her body reacted, but she did not stir from her sleep.

C’est la vie!

For those few who visit here, that I am not in contact with by other means, I wanted to you all to know The cold I had has all but past leaving a nasty cough and nothing else in its wake.  I never did wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Years; probably because I spent those holidays half drunk on cough medicine and pain pills. 

So for all my acquaintances that visit here,

Happy New Years …

Welcome to the Year of the Rat

Well, I’ve met a few new people; some of them are even cool.  So we’ll see where things go; eventually.  Maybe I move too slowly …

It feels flat.  I can’t explain it more than that; the world just has this feeling this morning of being flat.   Like I was watching it on a monitor or a TV rather than living through it.  Part of me is certain it is the effects of this cold, the tiredness, the thick feeling of the stuffy nose, and stuffed ears.  There is something more.  That voice that is always present in the back of my head that allows me to loose myself in the words of music, to relish in the passion of music that has touched me, isn’t listening.  It is there, but it isn’t listening.  Even as I play the music, and shuffle through song after song, trying to find one that awakens it to listening once more to the thoughts and words in my head, is just missing.  I am trying music, music with imagery that I know, music I understand and have always moved me; but today, there is something missing.  It is a new year, a new day, but there is something missing in the words and sounds I’ve relished in the past.  I supposed I could try other avenues to touch that voice and stir it to being, but music has always been our connection. I am guessing it the increased pressure when I cough that is throwing off my sense of balance of things.  It’s not so much like being dizzy, as it is almost like slugging through the snow, even though there is no barrier or presence.  Why did I come in here to write this anyways?

Work as if you have no money.

Love as if you have never been hurt.

Dance like no one is watching.

Sing like no one is listening.

And live everyday as if it were your last.

Every time I read this I think they are great words to live by… so many others read them and take something, if not a great deal.  It is almost inspirational.  So few live this way, or even come close …

If I thought anyone was reading, I’d offer to discuss it further ... but this is just to remind me of how silly people are when they think no one is watching.

I read page after page of profiles.  So often not sending notes, because there are so many fakes, so many ‘taken’ women (still looking half heartedly it seems) and so many ‘lesbians’ on here it isn’t funny.  Makes you wonder if there are any women left on this site.  So many men pretending, I sent three notes in the past few days, to women, who would’ve been perfect if they hadn’t turned out to be men.  Is it even worth a <sigh>?

To my all too few friends here ...

Happy Turkey Day

     Is there anybody out there?

     Can they here me? 

     Is there air up there, with their heads so high in the clouds looking down upon us?  Seems so many people on this site, are so self-indulgent and self-promoting, they forget to be people …

Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea ... and ideas are bulletproof.


Sex and Race, because they are easy, visible differences, have been the primary ways of organising human beings into superior and inferior groups and into the cheap labour on which this system still depends. We are talking about a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen, or those earned. We are really talking about Humanism

For all my friends:

I (and mine) am safe, right now.  Though half of San Diego is aflame; these fires are not ravishing the part of San Diego I live in (yet …).  Though I am not a religious man, more of a lapsed Catholic, or as my brother likes to refer to us a Recovering Catholic; know that many of the people I am familiar with and work with are in my thoughts (not so much my prayers).

That said I hope this early Autumn is treating everyone else better.

 I wonder …

I was chatting with this lady who was telling me how she serves her man.  She was going into graphic detail, which was unnecessary but I think it was a bit of bragging on her part.  She went on to tell me how her man likes her to do so, and I figured okay here I am just being used.  She continued to tell me how her man doesn’t work; she works full time and keeps him in a lifestyle he enjoys.  She was telling me how she wants to find another woman to share that burden with, even if she had to share him.

Now, I am as free-thinking as the next man.  This sounds great, but I doubt it would ever really work for a long period. Something in me says it would be great to sit back and be cared for by a slave, or two; working full time for my enjoyment.  I wonder how many people really live like this.  If I didn’t know her off-line and hadn’t known her for a couple years; I would think she was a he pulling my chain.

I wonder if there are more women like that.  Can I find a couple?  Would I be able to enjoy myself like that?  I wonder …

      Long nights sometimes plague me.  It seems I have seen more than my fair share of dawns through the wakeful night than I would ever have wanted to see … well alone anyways.  I sit here after another uneventful night; I fell asleep early, hoping to get a good nights rest, only to awaken within two hours to have a just a little un- too-rested night awaiting the dawn.

      As I sit here, awake, with little on my mind, but how tired I will be tomorrow … I’ve been going back through my E-mails; deleting some, laughing at others, and wondering, when common courtesy became uncommon.  I have sent a few E-mails to a few people …

      I am as human as the next guy; a photo of an attractive lady catches my eye.  My experience has taught me many things; including that a book judged sole on its cover is not a book worth doing more than enjoying the liner notes. Accounting for fakes and rude people is just so difficult a part of the on-line chatting/dating (whatever else you want to call it) game.

      Maybe it’s just me, but a polite E-mail should engender some response.  An E-mail with little thought and little care … must be the common approach that works … I say works like people actually read this stuff and don’t just refer to the pictures …

      I spent more than a few minutes writing a prolonged rant to a new friend earlier.  In doing so I went back over it more than once to make sure it was at least understandable … to my sleep deprived brain …

      Is it so much to ask that people more than two or three people, take the time to try to communicate rather than just look for the fake picture of the day?  I guess I am more of a fool than even I believed …

      C’est la vie …

      On another note … AOL is a virus which must be purged from my computer … I should know better ... but alas, I still download version after version to keep current with its functions only to watch it degrade my other programs with its insipid violent infiltrations.

      Like a falling star, searing its memory into the night sky, a kiss, a touch even the written word can be misleading.  Jade is beautiful, jade is protective against the haunting spirits of the east ... jaded is what hearts can become if one is not careful.

      Who coined the term “Blog?”  Why do we use it so readily?

      I want to coin a term.  Heck from the time I was 11 to the time I was 14 I thought I coined the word Dudette.  I even heard it used in a movie, that came out at the time.  I was so thrilled with myself.

      The problem with coining a term is simple.  How do you get enough people to use it? I guess the guy who came up with “Blog” had a lot, perhaps even enough, people to do so just reading his.

      I was chatting with my brother the other day; we were talking about some random celebrity as being a MILF.  Now I know this term has been in existence since the early 90’s at least.  I told him she’s not really just a MILF.  She’s more of a MALF … Mother America would Like to … well you get the picture.  Then and there I decided I wanted to coin a new term.  You know how likely that will catch on.  Later over at a friends house I brought it up, they all laughed … You never know until you try.

      Okay, so that was pointless, and rambling. Not very funny and not really what I thought of as way to say anything.  There is more to that then I think most will get.

      I guess I seek what so many seek; a way to identify like minded individuals with whom one can make a connection.  If I could easily find such a way, and market it … I’d make millions.  Magic formula for meeting people that you like … the dream of everyone who has ever spent and hour in the lines at that DMV.

      On a more serious topic:  I met someone while chatting on-line.  She seems so perfect on the surface.  Cute, rational, intelligent … a slave heart willing to surrender to all I desire … but then that is just the fantasy of on-line.  The world is one’s oyster, finding the pearl is just seductive.

      I know she’s not who she appears to be.  The jaded dark heart of a man burned by on-line meetings, burned by one to many women who pretended to be what is wanted, only to be lying ... to me … to themselves … to both of us …

      Hope is a four letter word for a reason.

        What’s with demanding to share fantasies before you’ll chat with someone anyways.  Are you just hard up for your own ideas?  Are you just looking for cheap thrills?  Grow a pair and chat with someone … you never know you might make a friend, might meet the love of your life.  Or more likely you might learn something.  Oh no not another learning experience.

        Having returned home after another night out on the town trying to learn more of people … I sit here unable to sleep.

        It seems I am odd, odder than most.  I go to a club full of people and find none, none worth talking to more than five minutes.  None worth the time I would give if they were a bit more interesting.  Doesn’t seem to be me ...  I am the one who gets bored.  Bored of the tired excuses of life.  Bored with the people who think so highly of themselves they are above a simple amount of respect for others offering them respect.

        I guess I am adding this to this journal because it seems so often on here that every letter I send, respectful and acknowledging the difficulties of learning who someone is, in little more than a few words meant to entice, meant to tease and arouse interest. 

        I don’t get the people on here.  A respectful e-mail is how a would be Dominant should approach a would be Submissive.  Demanding respect seldom works.  Demanding is disrespectful, and the sign of a crude unintelligent mind. 

        Maybe I should just forget the people on here, seems fully two-thirds of the ladies I have chatted with, here are fakes.  The remainder seem more interested in their own hallow fantasies than sharing anything with someone.

        Domination and Submission is a shared experience.  Sharing Respect for one another is the only way to begin such a relationship.  With out respect it is abuse.  Without respect limits are pointless, safe words are pointless.  The whole idea becomes one long joke.

        Maybe just be the alcohol talking, but I’ll be damned if this whole thing doesn’t seem pointless.

        Five maybe six people may read this … making this about as useful to me as another night out at the clubs.  The same half-dozen people who have shared enough respect with me learn we aren’t seeking the same things, so aren’t really right for one another. 

        Guess it’s another pointless internet rant …

Literacy for the win …

      Another morning of CollarMe Games. (sigh)

      I look back over the words I have typed here in my journal.  It seems the sarcasm and ire has been more rampant lately than expected.  I guess a few people can really spoil the fun of many others, even when they aren’t trying.

      Well let me see…

      I have met three wonderful ladies from here.  Spoken to a few others.  It has been a good 9 or 10 months since I created this account.  I know few people stop by to read, and that’s okay.  Aren’t journals more for the writer than the reader?  Maybe I should just start a blog someone where.  It’s not like there aren’t a few hundred thousand people already doing the same thing.  “100 billion bottles washed up on my shore …” So true in this age of disconnect and distance from those a few feet from your own door. 

      I was chatting with a friend, not on here but on the demon that is AOL; she has had a long friendship with a man she had met on there.  In being prudent she refused to give him her number, and refused to call him or entertain the idea.  Months passed, three to be precise.  She lives in a town of about 45,000 people and he it turns out lives in the very next town over.  It took them three months to learn they shared the same optometrist … Could you imagine?

      Another internet story of the distance created but this magic box.  I guess I am unconventional.  I find that more tragically humorous than I should. (or so I’ve been told.)

      Oh, NO! I am becoming a blogger.  This will be my last entry for some time, unless something note worth happens.

Poetry and Dominance are not exclusive.  Being a poet does not mean you have a weak soul; being a poet does not mean you cannot be firm and demanding not only from life, but from every part of life. 

Ranting Generalization to follow, but I bet you'll think it is about you:
I find reading journals and expectations of many of the submissive and slave women on here humorous.  Otherwise sane attractive women who desire a man who is everything of their dreams; whether they seek someone who is completely perfect, fulfilling every aspect of their fantasy; or they expect the dominants here to sweep them off their feet, over a computer with power tone of word, and commanding presence … over an impassionate computer … I love the aspects of people that allow them to delude their own minds, thinking their view of the world is the only view which is rational and important.  I love people.  They never let you down.  Whenever you want to feel better about yourself you need not look far to find someone who is so far from your own world, often in your own city, that is just plane crazy.  When you just feel that moments of pleasure by seeing someone’s typed words that confirm your high opinion of yourself and low opinion of everyone else … ahh that moment of clarity, that moment of better you than me … I’d wager most people reading this (not that anyone views my journal) think that I am really messed up … its so funny, because you feel that way about everyone else too … just as everyone else feels that way about you …