A picture of me. I am an over 300 lb., 44 yr. old, Mentally Ill mess. I am also a fairly terrific writer, of poems, prose, and other tails. I have two very faithful and loyal friends…one of whom I haven’t spoken to in 2 yrs., and the other who lives across the country and lets me take shameless advantage of him, money-wise. What I don’t have is any let’s-go-have-coffee-for-hours friends, or wanna-come-over-and-watch-bad-horror-movies-all-night friends, or even hey-whatcha-doing friends.
The internet is my friend…but I am not its friend. I make friends and contacts easily…and lose them just as easily. Either from them dissappearing, or me. This is an issue with the world of the internet. If you feel the slightest bit crowded, or uncomfortable, it’s easy to just slip back into the crowd. Also, I ramble. And raise Wild Tangents for a “living”. So, back to me…
I have not had sex…well, technically, ever. I can count: Rape at 14, 18, and 19. Uncomfortable pseudo-sex (I felt like a rubber sex doll, just lying there while he did whatever it was he wanted to do) with my job-corps boyfriend/fiance/husband of about 3 years, less than one of those married, before he divorced me by letting the Sheriff hand me the divorce papers. Not that I blame him…much. I’m-bored-and-depressed-and-I-don’t-care-anymore sex with a squatter I met in a park full of homeless guys. Almost-sex with a “nice” guy from work (fast food) who turned out to have a penis the size and shape of a tuna-fish can, and a week later was shacked up with my roomie, who was my size but somehow managed to sleep with every male she met, at least once. Unhappy unfinishable attempts at sex with my “Master” in the only S&M relationship I’ve had…so far. And of course the usual sex with me-myself-and-I.
Huh. That’s the first time I’ve actually written it down like that. Pretty pathetic. Even more so than I thought. Hmm.
Well, that’s sort of what this blog is about. There are many things I cannot have. Apparently sex is one of them. But there is -nothing- I can’t write about, nothing that escapes my pen/keyboard. I may start out with silly stories not even good enough for “Harlequin”, but I hope, with practice, I may even get to “True Confessions” level! >.<
Seriously, as the sign says, this is my exploration of my “sewer self”. I have 2 sets of “tarot” cards, illustrated by Jasmine Beckett-Griffith and written/captioned by Lucy Cavendish. I love these cards. I never fail to find inspiration, comfort, or even a well deserved mental spank, when I read them.
One that continues to come up, recently, (4 times in 5 readings) is called the Sewer Mermaid, and her purpose is to show you/me that you have been treating a vital part of yourself, your sensual/sexual side, unhealthily…confining it in the dark of your inner sewer, instead of in the light where it belongs. So, this is my attempt to explore that sewer, carefully, baby-steps at first…and maybe…someday…my beautiful Mermaid can come out into the light and show me how to make love…and how to love.