So i haven't posted on here for a while. i'll admit, the journey has stalled quite badly.
Things have changed and i have re-evaluated my position. i now have things to protect. Mum for one; the house for another as it represents the final worth of this arm of the family. i have to defend it. To be honest, the Masters i have served would not have interfeared with this arrangement and when i was living on my own and renting, i never felt this kind of defensive stance before.
But for some reason, i feel it now and it is part of what is preventing me from seeking another Master. For some reason, while Mum is alive, i don't want to take risks.
There is much thinking to be done. i have begun to value my freedom even though i still do not value myself.
This all feels very awkward.
The continuation
Now ... where was I? Ah yes, about six weeks ago. My time flies.
J and i had left Sheffield. We were in Folkestone at the time and managed to get our own place. i, however, was down hearted. i needed dominating; i needed to be played with; only from an emotional angle that J couldn't fullfil. i ended up with Master Mike. He had left His girlfriend and had ideas. The Internet is how the connection was made. Him in the Derby area, a good few hundred miles away from me.
After some chatting on line for a while, He came to us. The chat started well and discussions were going smoothly. Something was clicking in to place. Suddenly, without warning, Mike pointed at His feet and i automatically complied, sitting at His feet. It just felt right. i can't really explain how it felt, it was as if Mike had engendered such trust in me, talked so much sense and had hit the nails squarly on the head. He had the right attitude, used the right words and i didn't detect anything dishonest about Him. The only bad point was that during the conversation i expressed my dislike of Mercedes and ... as i found out when it came time to say goodbye, that He had come down in His Mercedes. Oops.
J set some ground rules and i then spent various weekends with Him. It was a glorious nine months-ish for me. Mike was firm but caring and had such an inventive mind and positive personality that the relationship, short as it was, sang. We went places, did things and had a wonderful time together, even to me appearing on TV as a pony, being filmed at one of the Sex Maniacs Balls ... but i noticed that He wasn't logging on to the web cam as often, and He wasn't reading the diaries any more. His girlfriend had come back and they had smoked the peace pipe.
There was no IT work in the Folkestone area so Mike had offered me to use His place as a base to be able to widen my chances of finding something ... and i did ... in Derby. It was also at this time that my relationship with J had fallen apart. So there was i, with no relationship, no home and now no Master as i met Him in a layby with His car full of His gear as He moved out of the area ... and He spoke the words that decollared me. i fell to pieces in that layby and cried my heart to sleep.
i don't know how long i was there for; don't ask. i had to focus on picking up the pieces of my life which had, once more, shattered completely. i used the cheapest bed and breakfast i could find and started a search again. Eventually, another kind hearted Master came to my rescue although i was never collared by Him.
From such a high to such a low was an earth shattering experience. Fortunately, life had already dealt me a number of hands which had seen me being left in quite some nasty situations and i had dragged myself up by my bootstraps many times before. Once the pain was quietly in its little bottle with the cork securely in place, it became just another fight to rebuild the shattered pieces.
J and i had left Sheffield. We were in Folkestone at the time and managed to get our own place. i, however, was down hearted. i needed dominating; i needed to be played with; only from an emotional angle that J couldn't fullfil. i ended up with Master Mike. He had left His girlfriend and had ideas. The Internet is how the connection was made. Him in the Derby area, a good few hundred miles away from me.
After some chatting on line for a while, He came to us. The chat started well and discussions were going smoothly. Something was clicking in to place. Suddenly, without warning, Mike pointed at His feet and i automatically complied, sitting at His feet. It just felt right. i can't really explain how it felt, it was as if Mike had engendered such trust in me, talked so much sense and had hit the nails squarly on the head. He had the right attitude, used the right words and i didn't detect anything dishonest about Him. The only bad point was that during the conversation i expressed my dislike of Mercedes and ... as i found out when it came time to say goodbye, that He had come down in His Mercedes. Oops.
J set some ground rules and i then spent various weekends with Him. It was a glorious nine months-ish for me. Mike was firm but caring and had such an inventive mind and positive personality that the relationship, short as it was, sang. We went places, did things and had a wonderful time together, even to me appearing on TV as a pony, being filmed at one of the Sex Maniacs Balls ... but i noticed that He wasn't logging on to the web cam as often, and He wasn't reading the diaries any more. His girlfriend had come back and they had smoked the peace pipe.
There was no IT work in the Folkestone area so Mike had offered me to use His place as a base to be able to widen my chances of finding something ... and i did ... in Derby. It was also at this time that my relationship with J had fallen apart. So there was i, with no relationship, no home and now no Master as i met Him in a layby with His car full of His gear as He moved out of the area ... and He spoke the words that decollared me. i fell to pieces in that layby and cried my heart to sleep.
i don't know how long i was there for; don't ask. i had to focus on picking up the pieces of my life which had, once more, shattered completely. i used the cheapest bed and breakfast i could find and started a search again. Eventually, another kind hearted Master came to my rescue although i was never collared by Him.
From such a high to such a low was an earth shattering experience. Fortunately, life had already dealt me a number of hands which had seen me being left in quite some nasty situations and i had dragged myself up by my bootstraps many times before. Once the pain was quietly in its little bottle with the cork securely in place, it became just another fight to rebuild the shattered pieces.
Making life better
Well, that's how i tend to think of it. Those who are rather more reserved (and hence very unlikely to be reading this blog) would probably interpret it as introducing good people to sin, vice and the Devil.
i always have looked good in red ... but that's another story.
It was a few weekends ago that i finally managed to sort out a photo shoot that had been talked about for a few months. Husband, like most males, seeming to want a little more out of the bedroom life but content to play things through and not rock the boat. The wife ... well, i didn't know that much about her before they turned up on the doorstep. She did turn up nervous, however, with a little alcohol inside her and carrying a plastic bag of yet more.
Becoming nude in front of a camera was concerning her, but there had been a few steps in the deal that gave her a bit of comfort. They were providing the memory cards and i was shooting jpeg on to them; i wouldn't even keep a copy of the pictures. As for me, i was getting the experience of working with someone and having to direct them to poses. That's what i was getting out of this. The living room had been turned in to a makeshift studio for an earlier shoot, so this wasn't putting me out.
i was concerned, however. The living room was full of all my BDSM gear; we're talking everything from ropes to strait jackets and it might scare her. We stopped in the kitchen for a while, talking and getting to know each other. i seem to have that knack of making people feel at ease. What it is, i don't know. It is just some sort of voodoo that i do and it is so voodoo that even i don't know what voodoo i actually do ... if you know what i mean.
Anyway, it took a little time, no pressure. There wasn't any money at stake. my abilities as a general photographer were already known. Well, the evening just opened up. A little bit of shooting, out the back for a cigarete, more shooting, a glass of wine ... fuck me, it went on all evening.
When it came to the rope work ... she was wet. Those two must have had some prety wonderful sex that night ... or rather, later that morning as it was the small hours when they left.
i bumped in to the bloke earlier today, funnily enough. The grin on his face runs from one ear to the other and i think their sex life has moved in to another dimension. Its got not so much an added spark, but more of a flame. No ... a torch ... and not just any torch either; i'm talking about the type of wodden thing that fills one hand while you have a pitchfork in the other and are running down an ogre.
i think they're now saving for a leather strait jacket!
It isn't the first time i've done that sort of thing for people ... and it won't be the last, either. Yes, i do feel a little empty inside myself, but to have brought that kind of joy to others does lift the heart a little.
i always have looked good in red ... but that's another story.
It was a few weekends ago that i finally managed to sort out a photo shoot that had been talked about for a few months. Husband, like most males, seeming to want a little more out of the bedroom life but content to play things through and not rock the boat. The wife ... well, i didn't know that much about her before they turned up on the doorstep. She did turn up nervous, however, with a little alcohol inside her and carrying a plastic bag of yet more.
Becoming nude in front of a camera was concerning her, but there had been a few steps in the deal that gave her a bit of comfort. They were providing the memory cards and i was shooting jpeg on to them; i wouldn't even keep a copy of the pictures. As for me, i was getting the experience of working with someone and having to direct them to poses. That's what i was getting out of this. The living room had been turned in to a makeshift studio for an earlier shoot, so this wasn't putting me out.
i was concerned, however. The living room was full of all my BDSM gear; we're talking everything from ropes to strait jackets and it might scare her. We stopped in the kitchen for a while, talking and getting to know each other. i seem to have that knack of making people feel at ease. What it is, i don't know. It is just some sort of voodoo that i do and it is so voodoo that even i don't know what voodoo i actually do ... if you know what i mean.
Anyway, it took a little time, no pressure. There wasn't any money at stake. my abilities as a general photographer were already known. Well, the evening just opened up. A little bit of shooting, out the back for a cigarete, more shooting, a glass of wine ... fuck me, it went on all evening.
When it came to the rope work ... she was wet. Those two must have had some prety wonderful sex that night ... or rather, later that morning as it was the small hours when they left.
i bumped in to the bloke earlier today, funnily enough. The grin on his face runs from one ear to the other and i think their sex life has moved in to another dimension. Its got not so much an added spark, but more of a flame. No ... a torch ... and not just any torch either; i'm talking about the type of wodden thing that fills one hand while you have a pitchfork in the other and are running down an ogre.
i think they're now saving for a leather strait jacket!
It isn't the first time i've done that sort of thing for people ... and it won't be the last, either. Yes, i do feel a little empty inside myself, but to have brought that kind of joy to others does lift the heart a little.
Happy as a pig in shit
In Sheffield i had found a dungeon. Well, more appropriately i had found Louise and a flat for two in the bottom of a victorian house. There were the cellars as well. Louise had started a business of sorts and already had people coming around on the tranvestite angle also.
i landed, feet first, in the thick of it. Louise and i became a partnership and that is how things progressed. With basic bondage equipment around and a clear, three roomed cellar, i was able to indulge in actual bondage with proper equipent whenever it was wanted.
This picture is me performing a self-posing test for a self portrait that i was to repeat, later, with lingerie, cuffs, spreader bar and chains ... although i won't post that picture here. You can get the idea of what the place looked like, though. Strong beams held coach bolts that could easily take someones weight. Self timers on cameras allowed portraits like this, before the days of infa-red remote controls.
The people that visited or came to the parties, were just like any other cross section of society. Rich, poor, fun, dour, there was also an occasional thief and trouble maker, but the majority were very honest and some had hearts of total gold with generous souls to match.
This was probably the happiest period of my life. It did, however, come with snags. One was that Louise was lying to me. Eventually, the web of lies crashed down around her and she left. i was never to see her again ... well, not for what must have been fifteen years later and i spent some time with Louise and her new partner; i even went on a mountain walk holiday with them in 2007; and Louise and i made our peace. Louise died of cancer a little short of a year after that holiday. i went on the walk in the countriside where we scattered Louise's ashes and bade her farewell.
However, to return to Sheffield all that time ago and Louise's leaving; J had turned up on the scene. If you follow the Life Of A Stranger blog, then you should have read that J and L saved me from being kicked out of my flat some years earlier because of two burglaries and the landlady's fear of reprisals ... i was kicked out. Well, J and L separated and somehow, J ended up on the doorstep having heard that there was an operating dungeon in the area, and was looking for some fun.
Louise moved out, J moved in and she and i were partners for a little over eleven years. J had work and that meant a good income. The dungeon grew; the equipment grew and so did the fun ... i finally got work myself. For a good few years this is how life continued. Wonderful parties, great people and enjoyable times.
Things were not to last, however. J lost her job and i resigned mine in disgust. Income stopped and we then had to move on.
i landed, feet first, in the thick of it. Louise and i became a partnership and that is how things progressed. With basic bondage equipment around and a clear, three roomed cellar, i was able to indulge in actual bondage with proper equipent whenever it was wanted.
This picture is me performing a self-posing test for a self portrait that i was to repeat, later, with lingerie, cuffs, spreader bar and chains ... although i won't post that picture here. You can get the idea of what the place looked like, though. Strong beams held coach bolts that could easily take someones weight. Self timers on cameras allowed portraits like this, before the days of infa-red remote controls.
The people that visited or came to the parties, were just like any other cross section of society. Rich, poor, fun, dour, there was also an occasional thief and trouble maker, but the majority were very honest and some had hearts of total gold with generous souls to match.
This was probably the happiest period of my life. It did, however, come with snags. One was that Louise was lying to me. Eventually, the web of lies crashed down around her and she left. i was never to see her again ... well, not for what must have been fifteen years later and i spent some time with Louise and her new partner; i even went on a mountain walk holiday with them in 2007; and Louise and i made our peace. Louise died of cancer a little short of a year after that holiday. i went on the walk in the countriside where we scattered Louise's ashes and bade her farewell.
However, to return to Sheffield all that time ago and Louise's leaving; J had turned up on the scene. If you follow the Life Of A Stranger blog, then you should have read that J and L saved me from being kicked out of my flat some years earlier because of two burglaries and the landlady's fear of reprisals ... i was kicked out. Well, J and L separated and somehow, J ended up on the doorstep having heard that there was an operating dungeon in the area, and was looking for some fun.
Louise moved out, J moved in and she and i were partners for a little over eleven years. J had work and that meant a good income. The dungeon grew; the equipment grew and so did the fun ... i finally got work myself. For a good few years this is how life continued. Wonderful parties, great people and enjoyable times.
Things were not to last, however. J lost her job and i resigned mine in disgust. Income stopped and we then had to move on.
Keep young and beautiful
i have to state that i'm not tending towards anorexia or bulemia. i will also admit that i recognise the pressure that is on women to be thin and beautiful. i am also aware, and applaud, the ability for people to feel good in the body they have no matter what its shape or size.
However, I remember when I was young and slim, looked and felt good and got invited here there and everywhere and had a lot of fun as a result. I want those days again. There were energized, they were bouncy, they were fun.
i was hung inverted, suspended by my ankles without boot supports; i used to look good in almost anything. Now, the only reason i look good in a corset is because of what a corset does to the waist!
It was perhaps thanks to cancer that a wonderful man was catupulted to worldwide fame. It is also because of cancer that he was eventually taken from us. Professor Randy Pausch taught, in his time management lectures, that walls are put in our way not necessarily to stop us from doing something, but to prove to us how much we want something. Well, i want my past back ... i want to be fit ... i want to look good in photos again ... i want that energy back ... i want my life back. So i'm going to tackle that wall head on ... and; damn it; i'm going to win. Selfish? You bet.
Health, however, is a fine line to tread between the two and in order to be able to work towards a healthy body, the first thing that is needed is a healthy mind. There is no substitute for good, solid research and a chat with a GP, fitness and dietary experts who have recognised qualifications and many years of experience and reputation under their belts ... this is, after all, your health you're dealing with.
The first thing is to learn about your own body and what is an ideal. This comes down to body function, how efficiently your heart is working, how much fat is in your body and what your ideal weight should be going by your body type, your height and various other things about your own body.
I don't believe in treating my body like a temple, but I do ascribe to the body being a complex chemical factory and needing to be looked after. I won't, however, let my mind and my soul suffer ... it has to be a balance of the three.
For my own body, i'm targetting 70 killos. i started this at 95 and i'm dropping little by little.
Getting off what goes in is only half the story. The first half is controlling what actually goes in to the body in the first place, and this is where the dietician comes in. Most of us are programmed to wanting fast food which is high in sugar and various fats. It's cheap to produce, cheap to buy, easy to sling in the microwave and stuff down our throats. Getting the guts to take on these behaviours and go through the withdrawl symptoms is no joke, but it has to be done. After a while, the cravings do go and, if you can control when you have the sweets as a treat; they taste all the more special when you DO have them!
Some techniques are not to do it all at once, but bit by bit. There is nothing that says as part of a healthy diet, that bad foods have to be cut out completely. There are some easy choices that can be made which kick start the process. One is switching to brown bread. Personally, brown bread just tastes like cardboard so I go for wholemeal which has nuts in it.
I examined my diet ... toast in the morning, bread in my sandwiches and potatoes, pasta or rice for an evening meal. Well, that had to change; that is a lot of carbohydrates. Changing to healthy cerial for most of my mornings breakfasts, and I cut down the quantity in general of what I'm eating. Substituting sweet potato for standard potato and bits like this can also help.
Working it off doesn't mean becoming a fitness junkie and it also doesn't mean having to bulk up and build muscle either. It does take some determination, though.
Regular exercise, three times a week, can take a couple of months before your body begins to actually get itself in to gear for getting fit; it can take this time before you even start to see improvement. Joining a gym can seem expensive, especially in a recession. Personally, i offset some of the cost with the fact that i'm enjoying a nice warm shower three mornings a week at their expense, and i also have access to a steam room, sauna, jacqusi and more, as part of my membership.
i'm currently running 9kmh for 10 minutes; that's equivalent to 0.93 miles ... i'm actually getting close to running a ten minute mile!!! How's that for motivation! It's taken me three months of treadmill work to get to that speed and i estimate being up to the necessary 10kmh in another month. It is an achievable target.
Motivation, however, is the crux of the whole deal. You've got to want to do it. It is by pushing yourself that you go further and develop.
The people who use the weights to bulk up, lift heavy weights but short repetitions (reps) so they'll lift a heavy weight, say 5 times, take a short breather and then do it again. If you want to build strength but not bulk, then you lift smaller weights but higher reps. That also helps motivation as when i come on to a weight machine that someone has been running at 70 kilos and i take it down to 25, then it doesn't dent my motivation because i know i'm doing a different training routine to them.
When a weight becomes comfortable so that you don't feel like you are working, then it is time to up the repetitions, or time to up the weight.
One technique that i was taught is that once you've done your reps, lower the weight one notch and then try and do as many reps as you can manage. When you're doing that comfortably as well, then it is time to up the weight a notch.
But what is the benefit of spending the money on a gym and going to the hassle of changing the diet? Well, like i said ... in my case i want to be beautiful ... but not in the standard, slim supermodel way of being beautiful. i very rarely wear make up, for example. It is one of the things that running the real bondage web site has taught me...
There is a massive gap between what is healthy and what society is telling people is healthy. There is a massive gap between what society tells us is beautiful and what is natures beauty.
i'll never be a supermodel, i'll never actually achieve what i used to be like twenty years ago; but i want my heart to be healthy, i want to be able to enjoy the odd steak out, the odd gorgealicious desert without feeling guilty and having a handle on my overall health.
It is also helping mentally as well. Coming out of the gym i am certainly feeling the emotional benefits of this work. It is like an aura of a job well done. Yes, it is hard work and it is a degree of self discipline to keep doing it ... but that wall which seems to stretch up to the heavens is getting smaller by a few bricks every day and i know that, eventually, i'll beat it.
However, I remember when I was young and slim, looked and felt good and got invited here there and everywhere and had a lot of fun as a result. I want those days again. There were energized, they were bouncy, they were fun.
i was hung inverted, suspended by my ankles without boot supports; i used to look good in almost anything. Now, the only reason i look good in a corset is because of what a corset does to the waist!
It was perhaps thanks to cancer that a wonderful man was catupulted to worldwide fame. It is also because of cancer that he was eventually taken from us. Professor Randy Pausch taught, in his time management lectures, that walls are put in our way not necessarily to stop us from doing something, but to prove to us how much we want something. Well, i want my past back ... i want to be fit ... i want to look good in photos again ... i want that energy back ... i want my life back. So i'm going to tackle that wall head on ... and; damn it; i'm going to win. Selfish? You bet.
Health, however, is a fine line to tread between the two and in order to be able to work towards a healthy body, the first thing that is needed is a healthy mind. There is no substitute for good, solid research and a chat with a GP, fitness and dietary experts who have recognised qualifications and many years of experience and reputation under their belts ... this is, after all, your health you're dealing with.
The first thing is to learn about your own body and what is an ideal. This comes down to body function, how efficiently your heart is working, how much fat is in your body and what your ideal weight should be going by your body type, your height and various other things about your own body.
I don't believe in treating my body like a temple, but I do ascribe to the body being a complex chemical factory and needing to be looked after. I won't, however, let my mind and my soul suffer ... it has to be a balance of the three.
For my own body, i'm targetting 70 killos. i started this at 95 and i'm dropping little by little.
Getting off what goes in is only half the story. The first half is controlling what actually goes in to the body in the first place, and this is where the dietician comes in. Most of us are programmed to wanting fast food which is high in sugar and various fats. It's cheap to produce, cheap to buy, easy to sling in the microwave and stuff down our throats. Getting the guts to take on these behaviours and go through the withdrawl symptoms is no joke, but it has to be done. After a while, the cravings do go and, if you can control when you have the sweets as a treat; they taste all the more special when you DO have them!
Some techniques are not to do it all at once, but bit by bit. There is nothing that says as part of a healthy diet, that bad foods have to be cut out completely. There are some easy choices that can be made which kick start the process. One is switching to brown bread. Personally, brown bread just tastes like cardboard so I go for wholemeal which has nuts in it.
I examined my diet ... toast in the morning, bread in my sandwiches and potatoes, pasta or rice for an evening meal. Well, that had to change; that is a lot of carbohydrates. Changing to healthy cerial for most of my mornings breakfasts, and I cut down the quantity in general of what I'm eating. Substituting sweet potato for standard potato and bits like this can also help.
Working it off doesn't mean becoming a fitness junkie and it also doesn't mean having to bulk up and build muscle either. It does take some determination, though.
Regular exercise, three times a week, can take a couple of months before your body begins to actually get itself in to gear for getting fit; it can take this time before you even start to see improvement. Joining a gym can seem expensive, especially in a recession. Personally, i offset some of the cost with the fact that i'm enjoying a nice warm shower three mornings a week at their expense, and i also have access to a steam room, sauna, jacqusi and more, as part of my membership.
i'm currently running 9kmh for 10 minutes; that's equivalent to 0.93 miles ... i'm actually getting close to running a ten minute mile!!! How's that for motivation! It's taken me three months of treadmill work to get to that speed and i estimate being up to the necessary 10kmh in another month. It is an achievable target.
Motivation, however, is the crux of the whole deal. You've got to want to do it. It is by pushing yourself that you go further and develop.
The people who use the weights to bulk up, lift heavy weights but short repetitions (reps) so they'll lift a heavy weight, say 5 times, take a short breather and then do it again. If you want to build strength but not bulk, then you lift smaller weights but higher reps. That also helps motivation as when i come on to a weight machine that someone has been running at 70 kilos and i take it down to 25, then it doesn't dent my motivation because i know i'm doing a different training routine to them.
When a weight becomes comfortable so that you don't feel like you are working, then it is time to up the repetitions, or time to up the weight.
One technique that i was taught is that once you've done your reps, lower the weight one notch and then try and do as many reps as you can manage. When you're doing that comfortably as well, then it is time to up the weight a notch.
But what is the benefit of spending the money on a gym and going to the hassle of changing the diet? Well, like i said ... in my case i want to be beautiful ... but not in the standard, slim supermodel way of being beautiful. i very rarely wear make up, for example. It is one of the things that running the real bondage web site has taught me...
There is a massive gap between what is healthy and what society is telling people is healthy. There is a massive gap between what society tells us is beautiful and what is natures beauty.
i'll never be a supermodel, i'll never actually achieve what i used to be like twenty years ago; but i want my heart to be healthy, i want to be able to enjoy the odd steak out, the odd gorgealicious desert without feeling guilty and having a handle on my overall health.
It is also helping mentally as well. Coming out of the gym i am certainly feeling the emotional benefits of this work. It is like an aura of a job well done. Yes, it is hard work and it is a degree of self discipline to keep doing it ... but that wall which seems to stretch up to the heavens is getting smaller by a few bricks every day and i know that, eventually, i'll beat it.
Where did the emotion go?
i've had the claim levelled at me that i don't write with emotion. i've been sat down for a while now, trying to work out why. i think the answer is that i'm stretch about as far as i can go and that so much of my life has been spent fighting that there is just no emotion left.
i should be spending life screaming and shouting ... but i'm not. Sure, i have my goals and i'm going out and working towards getting them; but it practically takes six sticks of dynamite up my ass hole before i actually get pissed enough to let rip.
Let me tell you good people; that much dynamite isn't good for the health of ones lower body parts ... if you know what i mean.
So ... where was I?
Oh, yes. living in a council flast somewhere in North East Sheffield. How i got from home to there was a quirk of having to deal with transsexuality and a load of shit in my life, so bondage got buried.
Anyway, it was while whiling my time away in a council shit flat (but it was still a roof over my head) where i felt vulnerable to the degree of having some thief break my door down any minute (the burglaries were still in my head and now that i was living alone again, the fears came back) because the doors were so thin and kick-inable if you know what i mean ... bondage came back to my mind and i wrote, "Broken Spirits."
So, bondage was back at the forefront of my mind again.
Now, how i learned about, "Louise's," i'm not too sure. Basically, it was a TS called Louise, living in a flat with another TV and trying to run a small business providing dressing facilities, etc. for transvestites in the area. So, i thought i'd hook up, and paid a visit.
More on that later, but the lack of emotion thing is, really, to be expected when all things are considered. The guard is still up. It will take someone special to get it let down again and revive the passion. That's going to take someone who knows how to fire dead coals, because emotion has prety much been put on ice.
Even behind the lens of a camera, emotion is a moment to be captured and to do that, one must be able to recognise it, create it even, but yet be distant from it.
The only emotion I can easily manage is anger. That is descructive, however, so I tend to keep it under wraps. Life has lain a few things at my door, I'll admit, but it has snatched away from me the people who have been so dear to my heart. The only thing that is almost uncontrollable these days is when someone who I care about, takes a self-destructive path needlessly ... that really will piss me off as they are forcing me to make a choice ... stand there and watch them suffer through no undoable cause, or else disolve a friendship that means much to me. Now THAT hacks me off.
If you want to know the rest of where my energy and life has gone, then this will give you more of a view but don't view it behind a company firewall.
I live, forever in hope, that I will find another someone special who will put the spark of life once more in the dead coals of my heart, and that life won't again snatch them from me.
i should be spending life screaming and shouting ... but i'm not. Sure, i have my goals and i'm going out and working towards getting them; but it practically takes six sticks of dynamite up my ass hole before i actually get pissed enough to let rip.
Let me tell you good people; that much dynamite isn't good for the health of ones lower body parts ... if you know what i mean.
So ... where was I?
Oh, yes. living in a council flast somewhere in North East Sheffield. How i got from home to there was a quirk of having to deal with transsexuality and a load of shit in my life, so bondage got buried.
Anyway, it was while whiling my time away in a council shit flat (but it was still a roof over my head) where i felt vulnerable to the degree of having some thief break my door down any minute (the burglaries were still in my head and now that i was living alone again, the fears came back) because the doors were so thin and kick-inable if you know what i mean ... bondage came back to my mind and i wrote, "Broken Spirits."
So, bondage was back at the forefront of my mind again.
Now, how i learned about, "Louise's," i'm not too sure. Basically, it was a TS called Louise, living in a flat with another TV and trying to run a small business providing dressing facilities, etc. for transvestites in the area. So, i thought i'd hook up, and paid a visit.
More on that later, but the lack of emotion thing is, really, to be expected when all things are considered. The guard is still up. It will take someone special to get it let down again and revive the passion. That's going to take someone who knows how to fire dead coals, because emotion has prety much been put on ice.
Even behind the lens of a camera, emotion is a moment to be captured and to do that, one must be able to recognise it, create it even, but yet be distant from it.
The only emotion I can easily manage is anger. That is descructive, however, so I tend to keep it under wraps. Life has lain a few things at my door, I'll admit, but it has snatched away from me the people who have been so dear to my heart. The only thing that is almost uncontrollable these days is when someone who I care about, takes a self-destructive path needlessly ... that really will piss me off as they are forcing me to make a choice ... stand there and watch them suffer through no undoable cause, or else disolve a friendship that means much to me. Now THAT hacks me off.
If you want to know the rest of where my energy and life has gone, then this will give you more of a view but don't view it behind a company firewall.
I live, forever in hope, that I will find another someone special who will put the spark of life once more in the dead coals of my heart, and that life won't again snatch them from me.
How did i know i liked bondage?
Another good question; but not a very long answer.
i always loved being tied up and facing the challenge of the escape. As most of the people around me were oblivious to what i was up to, i didn't get very far beyond the self-bondage routines that could be done with a sleeping bag and a skipping rope.
It wasn't until my late teens that i subscribed to a long past monthly publication about relationships called, "One to One." It had a small article on the back page of one issue that put a word to my feelings ... Bondage.
Life got busier as i left for my studies and without anyone else who knowingly shared this passion, it was surpressed for a while. Also, sorting out my transsexual core feelings were more important than indulging in this, more external part of my personality.
i always loved being tied up and facing the challenge of the escape. As most of the people around me were oblivious to what i was up to, i didn't get very far beyond the self-bondage routines that could be done with a sleeping bag and a skipping rope.
It wasn't until my late teens that i subscribed to a long past monthly publication about relationships called, "One to One." It had a small article on the back page of one issue that put a word to my feelings ... Bondage.
Life got busier as i left for my studies and without anyone else who knowingly shared this passion, it was surpressed for a while. Also, sorting out my transsexual core feelings were more important than indulging in this, more external part of my personality.
