*DISCLAIMER* What is to follow is utter wank. It's not written for you, or even for me really. It's just there. Your opinion on the following is not requested. If you choose to continue reading I would actually rather you didn't make me aware of that choice.
I ran before I walked and still will laugh before I cry
Built myself up in the image I saw in other peoples eyes.
Getting old on the outside feeling young as ever,
Climbing trees and hide and seek – aren’t grown up things to do
Red wine and cigarettes, flat shoes for long nights out
Watch the sun rise talking all this shit through
Still chasing the dream and trying to live the life
Sometimes the picket fence gets in the way
I wanna grow up but wanna stay in the game
Can’t I have my cake and eat it too
Try to see yourself without the mirrors
But keep getting caught in others eyes
Trying to work out how it fits together
Puzzle pieces tacked in place with lies
Getting old on the outside feeling young as ever,
Climbing trees and hide and seek – aren’t grown up things to do
Red wine and cigarettes, flat shoes for long nights out
Watch the sun rise with a friend who loves you
You put yourself out on the table
Sort through what is them and what is you
Trying to work out how it fits together
It’s not a very easy thing to do
I want to paint a picture of the girl
A photograph of who and how and why
Compare the dream to the reality
And see which bits I want to modify
tick!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Hello World It's me, Jess
it's been a long time hey? How've you been? i've been great:)
I've almost got my head around this 2010 thing. The first few weeks I wrote 2009 without even thinking, then I went through an adjustment period where I got the ten bit but kept writing 16/1/010. Yesterday at work though, for the first time I wrote 23/1/10 - with no stumbling or having to think too hard. Quite proud of myself!
So I broke my new year’s resolution the other day. Climbing my back fence late on Saturday night to see what was on the other side I slipped and got myself a nice little gash in the side of my ankle. Didn't get stitches - probably should have - and have been dealing with manky swollen ankle for the last few days. Swelling's gone now, went for a run this morning - back in the game!
I've also been working on my 'things I will do one day' list - as in actually crossing things off not adding to it (which is my usual style)
Here's the items I have been working on - (yes I know it's the easy ones!)
Me < 60kg - WOOP WOOP!! I do seem to be stuck at 59kg though, might have to drink less:)
Be a non-blonde again - complete! My hair is officially dark intense red and it looks freakin hot
Get rid of the green tinge from my hair - green completely gone:)
Write an erotic novel - I started this, sort of.
I've almost finished booking my belated honeymoon - can't wait. Need holiday. NEED HOLIDAY. The weather the last few days has made me ache for Bali a little bit too, that suffocating humidity and hot rain just rubs me up in all the right ways:) I love the smell of summer rain and the way that sort of humidity intensifies everything makes the air feel heavy, like you can touch it. I've had so many great memories in Bali over the years, they all always come rushing back in that drive from the airport on the first day I arrive. The taxi is always freezing cold and I open the windows and let the smells and sounds of Bali in. The humid smell, the clove cigarettes the floral frangipani's and incense from the millions of offerings, that sweet smell of hot fruit a little bit past it's best and that undercurrent of shit that is so uniquely Bali and is always there but somehow isn't too offensive.
I love the noises as well, the cars beeping, the pounding reggae mixed with red hot chilli peppers, jack johnson and a constant thread of faint traditional gamelan in the background - klongklongklong ka klong klong klong. Plait your hair? Manicurrre? beautiful girl! You come look my shop?
One of my first memories of Bali was arriving late at night on my first trip with the parents and my brother and sister. That night was a bit freaky, the hotel grounds were dark and the pool looked a bit scary because you couldn't see how deep it was. I was eight years old and my first impressions were not so great - the shit smell seemed a little bit more offensive that first trip and shortly after being put to bed I discovered rat poop and a snake skin in my fold out bed, and I really really hate snakes. The holiday did improve though:) I remember loving the food and the heat, I got very sunburnt and got my hair plaited and at night we'd go out for dinner and running through the wet grass out the front of the hotel I could feet tiny frogs squishing between my toes:) I remember dancing with my Dad at the Bali rock cafe late at night on the open air dance floor while it pissed down with rain and no one cared.
many many Bali trips have passed between now and then. I've had Bali as a troublesome 15yo hanging out with my sister for the first time as adults, I turned 18 on my first ever sans parentals Bali trip with two of my girls. We booked our flights and the first few nights accommodation and after that we just winged it. We woke up when we woke up and spent days lolling and lazing around with a little bit of shopping and a few temples thrown in for good measure. We ate when we were hungry - sometimes second lunch just had to be had, we had massages and went partying to the wee hours of the morning, we had afternoon nanna naps and had no plans and no schedule and it didn't bother us that we didn't know where we were sleeping the next night. We were young and free and empowered and it was our holiday and our world and all goodness.
I've also done trips with just my Mum, I'm a very good travelling companion (if you're paying) We've had big Bali hullaballoo family trips with aunts and uncles and noise and crazy where we would make an empty restaurant bursting with our arrival. More recently though it's been trips to Bali with hubby that have been the norm, occasionally with a little bit of family thrown in - because as soon as one person says Bali - everyone else says 'Me too! Me too!'
This trip will be different from all the rest, we have luxury digs booked. True honeymoon villa on the beach with private plunge pool and butler on call. Breakfast served on our deck each day and complimentary massage etc tec. It will be good:) said villa is also located 100m from our favourite bar, so there will still be lots of fun and drinking and stealing the microphone from the band and making them stay open just for us until the sun comes up. We will try to refrain from the early morning hotel room visit from last night’s barman asking if we would like to pay our bill now, though.
So, 6 nights in private pool villa in Bali, 4 nights in crazy party ping-pong Bangkok, 2 nights in chilled Chang Mai, 5 nights just outside of Phuket and then 2 nights in Singapore on the way home. Ready now! Yes please?
I've almost got my head around this 2010 thing. The first few weeks I wrote 2009 without even thinking, then I went through an adjustment period where I got the ten bit but kept writing 16/1/010. Yesterday at work though, for the first time I wrote 23/1/10 - with no stumbling or having to think too hard. Quite proud of myself!
So I broke my new year’s resolution the other day. Climbing my back fence late on Saturday night to see what was on the other side I slipped and got myself a nice little gash in the side of my ankle. Didn't get stitches - probably should have - and have been dealing with manky swollen ankle for the last few days. Swelling's gone now, went for a run this morning - back in the game!
I've also been working on my 'things I will do one day' list - as in actually crossing things off not adding to it (which is my usual style)
Here's the items I have been working on - (yes I know it's the easy ones!)
Me < 60kg - WOOP WOOP!! I do seem to be stuck at 59kg though, might have to drink less:)
Be a non-blonde again - complete! My hair is officially dark intense red and it looks freakin hot
Get rid of the green tinge from my hair - green completely gone:)
Write an erotic novel - I started this, sort of.
I've almost finished booking my belated honeymoon - can't wait. Need holiday. NEED HOLIDAY. The weather the last few days has made me ache for Bali a little bit too, that suffocating humidity and hot rain just rubs me up in all the right ways:) I love the smell of summer rain and the way that sort of humidity intensifies everything makes the air feel heavy, like you can touch it. I've had so many great memories in Bali over the years, they all always come rushing back in that drive from the airport on the first day I arrive. The taxi is always freezing cold and I open the windows and let the smells and sounds of Bali in. The humid smell, the clove cigarettes the floral frangipani's and incense from the millions of offerings, that sweet smell of hot fruit a little bit past it's best and that undercurrent of shit that is so uniquely Bali and is always there but somehow isn't too offensive.
I love the noises as well, the cars beeping, the pounding reggae mixed with red hot chilli peppers, jack johnson and a constant thread of faint traditional gamelan in the background - klongklongklong ka klong klong klong. Plait your hair? Manicurrre? beautiful girl! You come look my shop?
One of my first memories of Bali was arriving late at night on my first trip with the parents and my brother and sister. That night was a bit freaky, the hotel grounds were dark and the pool looked a bit scary because you couldn't see how deep it was. I was eight years old and my first impressions were not so great - the shit smell seemed a little bit more offensive that first trip and shortly after being put to bed I discovered rat poop and a snake skin in my fold out bed, and I really really hate snakes. The holiday did improve though:) I remember loving the food and the heat, I got very sunburnt and got my hair plaited and at night we'd go out for dinner and running through the wet grass out the front of the hotel I could feet tiny frogs squishing between my toes:) I remember dancing with my Dad at the Bali rock cafe late at night on the open air dance floor while it pissed down with rain and no one cared.
many many Bali trips have passed between now and then. I've had Bali as a troublesome 15yo hanging out with my sister for the first time as adults, I turned 18 on my first ever sans parentals Bali trip with two of my girls. We booked our flights and the first few nights accommodation and after that we just winged it. We woke up when we woke up and spent days lolling and lazing around with a little bit of shopping and a few temples thrown in for good measure. We ate when we were hungry - sometimes second lunch just had to be had, we had massages and went partying to the wee hours of the morning, we had afternoon nanna naps and had no plans and no schedule and it didn't bother us that we didn't know where we were sleeping the next night. We were young and free and empowered and it was our holiday and our world and all goodness.
I've also done trips with just my Mum, I'm a very good travelling companion (if you're paying) We've had big Bali hullaballoo family trips with aunts and uncles and noise and crazy where we would make an empty restaurant bursting with our arrival. More recently though it's been trips to Bali with hubby that have been the norm, occasionally with a little bit of family thrown in - because as soon as one person says Bali - everyone else says 'Me too! Me too!'
This trip will be different from all the rest, we have luxury digs booked. True honeymoon villa on the beach with private plunge pool and butler on call. Breakfast served on our deck each day and complimentary massage etc tec. It will be good:) said villa is also located 100m from our favourite bar, so there will still be lots of fun and drinking and stealing the microphone from the band and making them stay open just for us until the sun comes up. We will try to refrain from the early morning hotel room visit from last night’s barman asking if we would like to pay our bill now, though.
So, 6 nights in private pool villa in Bali, 4 nights in crazy party ping-pong Bangkok, 2 nights in chilled Chang Mai, 5 nights just outside of Phuket and then 2 nights in Singapore on the way home. Ready now! Yes please?
Monday, January 4, 2010
The Dark Room
As I waited in the bright room my heart had already begun to quicken. I was nervous and excited – all in a good way. I had only been waiting for a minute or so but I was aching to get in there, I needed this. I didn’t sit on the large comfortable chair available, I couldn’t sit still, I stood near the door, waiting for the signal for me to go in. This out of all of them, was my favourite game.
I wondered what it was going to be like, I had only done this a few times before and had not yet had any bad experiences, a couple of awkward giggle moments sure, but most of my visits to this room have involved fifteen minutes of absolute gut wrenching bliss. I know some of the others cheated, they liked to peek through their blindfolds to see what was coming next and try to become more involved in the process, but not me - I liked the rules the way they were. I didn’t cheat – kept my blindfold on and my eyes squeezed shut so as not to ruin the mystery, the excitement, the anonymity, the naughty - everything your mother told you not to do - aspect of it. The stranger, the dark, the danger.
As I waited for the music I took stock of myself. My hair was tied in a loose pony tail high up on my head, my feet were bare, my skin was soft and smooth and smelled faintly of lavender from the body wash in the change room. I was wearing a white silk robe and there was a slight dampness between my legs that was more related to the anticipation of what was to come than my recent shower. As I shifted my weight restlessly from one foot to another I felt the muscles in my legs tense and then relax, I was proud of my body, I wasn’t particularly tall and was definitely not long like girls in magazines but I was firm to the touch in most places and soft and supple in others. My stomach was mostly flat but with little muscle definition, my breasts were small but round, the perfect handful, I had been told. My skin was brown from the summer and days spent at the beach and my nipples were small and erect; standing to attention most of the time - but today they could poke an eye out.
As I heard the music start my heart rate jumped, my skin burst out in goosebumps and the dampness was joined by a pleasant swelling. It was time to go in.
They say bats can see, by sound. That the tiny noises they make bounce back to them off the surrounding objects and thats how they create an image of the environment they are in.
I’m no bat, but I can tell you thats exactly what my brain was attempting as I walked into that room. I put my blindfold on first, i opened the door, took three steps forward until my feet registered the change in flooring. The cool tiles gave way to soft, warm, rubber matting. There I stopped, and dropped my robe. As I stood alone in the dark room, blindfold on - I tried my best to make my bat senses work. Was I alone? At first I couldn’t sense anything except my own thumping heartbeat and shallow breathing. My body trembled slightly with anticipation.
Then I heard it. The quiet thud of a door closing softly. Calm slow, steady footsteps, coming closer. One, two, three, four, five, six. I swallowed and let out a tiny gasp. Not knowing what would come next, knowing I was naked, vulnerable, that i was completely open to anything this stranger might do to me, that I had signed away nearly all my rights as I walked through that door.
I waited. I knew they were close but I couldn’t hear anything, my own sharp breathing was drowning out any quieter, more subtle noises I might have heard. I could smell something, I could smell the lavender from my shower, I could smell my own faint umami excitement, but there was something else.
I was trying to pin down the smell when I felt it, a faint disturbance in the air near my neck, maybe a slight change in temperature or movement of air that indicated in the following nanosecond I would feel a touch. I almost jumped when they first made contact. Fingers gently brush along my neck on both sides, under my ears, rising up the back of my neck as they met together, confidently around the base of my ponytail. These hands deftly released my hair from my ponytail, letting it cascade gently around my shoulders. Those same hands together clasped my right hand and gently threaded my hair tie over my hand onto my wrist.
Every movement they made was so steady, so sure, like this was the thousandth time they’d performed this ritual. I tried to feel what these hands were like, they weren’t rough, I’d guess they were larger than my own but it would only be a guess. Their most distinguishing feature was their capability. These hands untied my hair better than my own did.
I stood still. Waiting for what would come next. I was eager to get on with it, to experience whatever it was that was coming. I wiggled my toes, impatient, wondering why they were taking so long, these confident hands. Then I felt them again, these hands. A jolt of electricity through my arms as the gentlest touch on each forearm guided both my hands up to the back of my head. Those two beautiful capable hands placed my hands one on top of the other on the back of my own head, pressing gently to indicate thats where they would stay.
Those same beautiful hands were suddenly at my calves. Gentle pressure, guiding my legs further apart. I stood there. Hands behind my head, legs apart. Aching for more of these hands. Hands that could guide my body with the gentlest of touches, making me certain I would do anything these hands wanted of me. Anything.
As I stood there waiting once more I listened to the music, strange rhythmic electronic music, a background hum indicating that the session was still in play. When the music stops, so must we and this experience would be over.
Then the hands were back, low and steady at the back of my legs. Starting just above my knees gently moving up, I wondered at first if this person, the owner of these beautiful capable hands was in front or behind me, but I did not wonder very long. A change in position of the hands and my pelvis instinctively swayed forward and the most delicious sensation overcame me as a soft tongue snaked into my wet folds and soft lips gently sucked the hood of my clitoris. I let out a gasp and felt myself rise slightly on my toes and lean backwards. Eagerly angling my pussy towards this wonderful person.
The hands moved higher up the back of my legs, fingers gently clutching the flesh where thighs meet ass. The tongue continued; insistent, rhythmic long strokes alternating with gentle sucks of my clitoris. I felt the hands firmly clasp my ass cheeks, pulling them apart as I pushed myself into this glorious mouth with more insistence.
I clenched my thighs and I could feel it, I was close, I was going to come. I started gyrating my pelvis against the mouth as the mouth met my enthusiasm, licking and sucking, burying itself further into me, then focusing just on my clitoris, sucking rhythmically. I was just on the edge, ready to fall into the oblivion of orgasm when the music stopped.
Suddenly the space where my glorious mouth and beautiful hands had been was just air. My own hands left their place at the back of my head and swept the air in front of me, hoping to find this stranger that had so quickly and capably taken me to where even my own hands took far longer to reach. But they were gone. It was over. I bent down to collect my robe, removed my blindfold and made my way towards the light.
Back in the bright room I collapsed on the chair. My wetness still swollen and throbbing from the closeness of climax. I wanted to touch myself, to rub gently where that mouth had been and take myself to orgasm, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to feel my own inadequacy, next to the skill of those hands, that mouth, that stranger.
I had to see them again. I had to find a way.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Thank Christ it's all over!!
MERRY XMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!
I’m exhausted, every muscle in my body hurts and one of my eyes is really itchy.
I blame the festive season for all of this and am very pleased that it only happens once a year. I can’t handle all of this partying - but at least I have no serious injuries.
I like most aspects of Christmas. I like the family stuff - mine is pretty cool and we usually keep it fairly relaxed and low key (oysters, Harvey Wallbangers, French champagne, cold meat and salad and lots and lots of very good wine) I love the food at Christmas time because even if it’s a fairly casual everyone always brings their best so it’s always all good. I love the presents too – this year I got everything I requested, an iPod dock, a big F’off chopping board, shopping gift vouchers, books, new makeup, pretty garden stuff and sexy undies (well I didn’t ask for those but hubby can’t help but get me a bowling ball each Christmas)
Now don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t like partying – I love partying (although I’m sure you know that) I just don’t appear to have a sensible, and that regularly results in lots of pain and occasionally proper injuries. I’m sure all of you now are thinking back to your own memories of me going too far – there are many: the trampoline, spring in the valley, any time we go to the Carlisle, the chin, the nudey booth, rolling down the hill at Lake Ave and many many many more.
I bet you are all waiting for me to launch into my New Years Eve story, wondering what limb I managed to break or if maybe I finally knocked out my two front teeth when falling flat on my face or that I somehow accidently stabbed myself with my stiletto while pole dancing in the street.
Not True. No Injuries, no pole dancing, no horrible awkward vague memories of saying something ridiculously inappropriate. I remember the whole night. I was practically a lady (not really). I was loud, I was dancing, I was talking to strangers and we stumbled back to the hotel room at about 5am – but there is no lasting evidence of my night and I had lots of fun.
I thought about making a New Years resolution but at first couldn’t think of one I could keep. I thought about ‘not to get too drunk’ but that’s very subjective, what is ‘too drunk’ anyway? And how do I make sure I get drunk enough without getting ‘too drunk?’ There’s a certain point - and when I get there I don’t even know I’m drunk, I just know I’m brilliant and awesome and the smartest and best looking person in the world who can do and say anything I want without consequence. I didn’t even bother thinking about ‘not get drunk again’ may as well tell me not to breathe or eat (no I’m not an alcoholic *she writes as she takes another gulp of her vodka passionfruit*) I then thought about basing my resolution around some sort of fitness goal, like lose another 5kg or enter a triathlon this year or be able to run 7km without stopping before the end of the year. Bah – screw that. I then thought about the obvious – ‘spend the whole year without getting any serious drinking injuries’ – I like the idea of this one, I think I may attempt it. I like this one for two reasons:
1. It actually involves no sacrifice on my behalf and will only help me
2. It’s not really something I can control (unless of course we go back to the ‘don’t get too drunk’ thing and you know where I stand on that) So I won’t feel like I failed if/when it happens.
To clarify – bruises and scratches are ok, sprains, cuts, gashes, concussions, breaks, fractures, anything requiring stitches, anything requiring a hospital visit are NOT OK.
This also only covers injuries attained when drunk and that are directly my fault – eg being hit by a car after two glasses of wine does not count.
So that’s my New Years Resolution.
BTW – there’s a bar down Wolf Lane in the city, off king street near the Belgian called Wolf Lane (surprisingly enough) It is great and wonderful. Go there.
I’m exhausted, every muscle in my body hurts and one of my eyes is really itchy.
I blame the festive season for all of this and am very pleased that it only happens once a year. I can’t handle all of this partying - but at least I have no serious injuries.
I like most aspects of Christmas. I like the family stuff - mine is pretty cool and we usually keep it fairly relaxed and low key (oysters, Harvey Wallbangers, French champagne, cold meat and salad and lots and lots of very good wine) I love the food at Christmas time because even if it’s a fairly casual everyone always brings their best so it’s always all good. I love the presents too – this year I got everything I requested, an iPod dock, a big F’off chopping board, shopping gift vouchers, books, new makeup, pretty garden stuff and sexy undies (well I didn’t ask for those but hubby can’t help but get me a bowling ball each Christmas)
Now don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t like partying – I love partying (although I’m sure you know that) I just don’t appear to have a sensible, and that regularly results in lots of pain and occasionally proper injuries. I’m sure all of you now are thinking back to your own memories of me going too far – there are many: the trampoline, spring in the valley, any time we go to the Carlisle, the chin, the nudey booth, rolling down the hill at Lake Ave and many many many more.
I bet you are all waiting for me to launch into my New Years Eve story, wondering what limb I managed to break or if maybe I finally knocked out my two front teeth when falling flat on my face or that I somehow accidently stabbed myself with my stiletto while pole dancing in the street.
Not True. No Injuries, no pole dancing, no horrible awkward vague memories of saying something ridiculously inappropriate. I remember the whole night. I was practically a lady (not really). I was loud, I was dancing, I was talking to strangers and we stumbled back to the hotel room at about 5am – but there is no lasting evidence of my night and I had lots of fun.
I thought about making a New Years resolution but at first couldn’t think of one I could keep. I thought about ‘not to get too drunk’ but that’s very subjective, what is ‘too drunk’ anyway? And how do I make sure I get drunk enough without getting ‘too drunk?’ There’s a certain point - and when I get there I don’t even know I’m drunk, I just know I’m brilliant and awesome and the smartest and best looking person in the world who can do and say anything I want without consequence. I didn’t even bother thinking about ‘not get drunk again’ may as well tell me not to breathe or eat (no I’m not an alcoholic *she writes as she takes another gulp of her vodka passionfruit*) I then thought about basing my resolution around some sort of fitness goal, like lose another 5kg or enter a triathlon this year or be able to run 7km without stopping before the end of the year. Bah – screw that. I then thought about the obvious – ‘spend the whole year without getting any serious drinking injuries’ – I like the idea of this one, I think I may attempt it. I like this one for two reasons:
1. It actually involves no sacrifice on my behalf and will only help me
2. It’s not really something I can control (unless of course we go back to the ‘don’t get too drunk’ thing and you know where I stand on that) So I won’t feel like I failed if/when it happens.
To clarify – bruises and scratches are ok, sprains, cuts, gashes, concussions, breaks, fractures, anything requiring stitches, anything requiring a hospital visit are NOT OK.
This also only covers injuries attained when drunk and that are directly my fault – eg being hit by a car after two glasses of wine does not count.
So that’s my New Years Resolution.
BTW – there’s a bar down Wolf Lane in the city, off king street near the Belgian called Wolf Lane (surprisingly enough) It is great and wonderful. Go there.
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