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![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) naamah_darling | |
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Would you all help me with a secret project? I am trying to get a wider picture of something here. I promise I am totally sympathetic to the cause, and won't quote anyone without their permission or portray anyone in a negative light. If you know anyone who is a tentacle fan who might be willing to answer some of these, please point them here. Anonymous commenting will be on for the next few days. Replies will remain screened unless you tell me I may unscreen them. If the idea of sex with tentacles appeals to you, I would appreciate your input on any or all of these. What kind of tentacles do you prefer, if you have a preference? Biological or mechanical? Dry/slippery/slimy/oily? Rough, smooth, textured? A random swarm or attached to a person, demon, monster, sea creature? Are they sentient or attached to a sentient being or not? Suckers or no suckers? How many tentacles are we talking, here? Describe your ideal tentacle! What is it about the idea of sex with tentacles that appeals to you? Why do you think it appeals to other people? Are you attracted to the idea of violent, possibly nonconsensual, sex with tentacles, or to the idea of soothing smooth jazz sex with sensitive yet strong tentacles (tendercles)? Is there a sweet spot in the middle? Main country of residence? Orientation? Feel free to be vague about this. Lord knows I would be. I'm just curious. Gender? Please don't feel like you have to keep this to either female or male. Gender you are in your fantasies? Do you prefer to think about being on the giving or receiving end of the tentacle, or both, or neither (as an observer or directing the action)? When and how did you become aware of your thing for tentacles? Do you have a favorite naughty tentacle piece of art (movie, manga, woodcut, etc.)? What naughty tentacle works would you consider necessary to understand the genre? What would you recommend to an enthusiastic and curious newcomer? Is this a geek thing or does it have more mainstream appeal? Are you a geeky person? Do you own a tentacle sex toy? If so, what do you think of it? Did I forget to ask anything? If you want to ramble about the subject and talk about anything I didn't specifically ask about, feel free to do so! May I quote you? If you don't explicitly answer yes, I won't. What name would you like me to use, and how would you like me to represent you if I need to do so? (As in: "I'm Percival, a 22-year-old art student and renfair dork." "I'm Miranda, and I'm a singer/burlesque performer.") Have at! Again, replies are screened unless you tell me I may unscreen them! Please pass this to any of your lovely tentacle pervert friends! Tags: halp, q and a, sex
Current Location: Arcadia, MO
Current Mood:  curious
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hartmans | |
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The past Wednesday was mrw42 and my four year anniversary! Our relationship has gone through a lot of changes over these four years. There have been so many changes in that time: living together, our wonderful little Zoe, the other kids continuing to grow up. There have been changes in our relationship too: more security, deeper knowledge of each other, and more shared experience. While the sense of wonder has changed too, it's still present and as strong as ever. We also have made it past our first spot of trouble. Not surprisingly, Zoe's birth and moving in together created a lot of changes. I think both of us were feeling a lot of insecurity, and I was feeling that we were not spending enough time together. In the past few months, we have built the communications skills to move past that and at least for me to overcome the resulting insecurity. I still wish we were able to spend more time together, but I think that may be true for most people who are as busy as Margaret and I.
I couldn't imagine my life without Margaret; I'm so happy we found each other! Tags: relationships, status
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flewellyn | |
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So, I saw at Shakesville a video and transcript by a deeply conservative, apparently Catholic, fundamentalist, asserting that if you use condoms, you will not be Raptured. This guy calls himsel the "Third Eagle of the Apocalypse", and insists he is "Co-Prophet of the End Times". Several responses come to mind. First off, "Third Eagle of the Apocalypse" would be an awesome name for a heavy metal band. Or else an album. I could see Manowar, or maybe Mythic Slaughterbeast, putting out an album with that name. Second, what the hell is with the fundie hate for contraception and disease prevention? Is their manhood so threatened by the idea of not putting their "holy spirit" in every possible woman that they have to ruin everything for the rest of us? (Rhetorical question. Of course, the answer is yes.) But last, and more importantly, those silly fundie Christians who misread their Bibles! There's nothing about a "rapture"! What they're waiting for is the RUPTURE. That's when God will take all the people, of all faiths, who believe that they are God's speshul snowflakes, and that this gives them license to behave badly towards others, and assume them bodily into the heavens. Not Heaven, but the heavens. As in, low Earth orbit. They will not be given any special means to survive in hard vacuum, however. That's why it's called "the Rupture". And it can't come soon enough. Tags: humor, politics, wtf mate?
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![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/syndicated.gif) wilwheaton | |
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http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/wwdn/~3/-UAhR4Ey2R0/remembering-the-irrational-immortality-of-youth.html I didn't have to look at the weather forecast to know that a storm is on the way; I could feel it with the first step I took outside this morning with my dog. As I stood on my patio and watched the steam rise off my coffee and swirl up through golden shafts of golden morning sunlight shot through a cloud-filled sky, I remembered a day like this one fifteen or sixteen years ago. I'd just gotten home from Nice, where I'd lived and worked on a film called Mister Stitch for a few months. It wasn't the most pleasant movie in the world to work on (the other lead actor was an unprofessional nightmare) but the time I spent there working on it remains some of the best time in my life. I'd been acting since I was a child, but it wasn't until I lived in Nice and worked on Mister Stitch that I truly felt like an artist. I was fundamentally changed by the experience, seeing the world - especially entertainment - differently than I ever had before. The day I got back from location, sometime in mid-January of that year, my friend Dave picked me up from LAX, and we went directly down the road to Manhattan Beach, to wait out the terrible rush hour traffic which stood between the airport and my house. After ten hours on an airplane, another 120 minutes to crawl 40 miles up the freeway wasn't exactly an appealing notion. We parked in a mostly-empty lot and walked down toward the water. There was a winter storm on its way, driving powerful waves ahead of it that were so huge, they crashed up against the bottom of the pier and occasionally broke over the end of it. Wrapped up in the irrational immortality that's endemic to 22 year-olds, we walked dangerously close to the end of the shuddering pier, angry waves boiling beneath, and dared the Pacific Ocean to reach up and touch us. I don't recall specifically what we talked about - I'm sure I regaled him with slightly-exaggerated tales of glamor and excess and artistic awakening along the French Riviera - but even now I can I clearly recall the terror and exhilaration I felt whenever foamy, freezing sea water splashed up through the spaces between the planks and soaked into the tops of our shoes. Since I grew up and became a husband and a father, I've gone out of my way to avoid anything more dangerous than driving on the Los Angeles freeway system, so I can't imagine defying a Pacific winter storm like I did when I was in my early twenties ... but standing on my patio in my late thirties, not really defying as much as tolerating the morning chill, I was grateful for the memory. 
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sk4p | |
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Originally published at sk4p.net. You can comment here or there. Incomplete. That’s what I feel of late. Buddha taught that satisfying one desire doesn’t help; there are always more.
I had a lot more enthusiasm about the whole magical revival and undertaking … but then stuff happened and a lot of my heart just went out of it. I do have a nifty new set of tools, but … they lay idle on the nifty new altar. It was a fine idea. It got me going for a while. But here we are.
Part of the problem: there are definitely things which I want but feel are unattainable. That’s frustrating. But a bigger problem is still direction.
A year ago at the end of this month, I realized my dream. I graduated. To make it all even more real, I did the whole ceremony thing in May. And here we are and I am aimless.
What am I doing with my life? What is my life for? Three months ago, in September, I was giving serious thought to further magical studies and pursuits. But now … I dunno. I was badly disillusioned by events along the way. I ignored that while working on my tools, but now here I am.
I’ve been studying Buddhism lately. That feels increasingly worthless too. On the first of the month, a few days ago, I reflected on how it was the anniversary of Crowley’s death. I thought, “Ah yes, Crowley’s mahanirvana” (entrance into ultimate enlightenment at the time of death). But then I thought, “Crowley wouldn’t want to be in nirvana; he would come back for more adventures.”
He describes it in the Gnostic Mass when he speaks of the reincarnating dead as those whose will is “to achieve the labour and heroism of incarnation”. Well, says the Mahayana practitioner, of course we reincarnate to help others escape from suffering as well. But what happens when we all escape? Endless bliss? Meaningless as a lie … We’d all say “That was awesome!” and do it again, jumping into the pool of samsara and experiencing life again.
Life? Life isn’t just information processing or the use of energy to create ordered systems. It’s something more. Life is the interface between entropy and extropy. If there were no friction, there would be no life. Some passive dull awareness, but no life. No vitality.
So yeah. Nirvana’s a lie as much as heaven is (though at least one isn’t required to sing hymns). Awesome. Life is here and now. Life is in the awareness and the struggle between good and evil — whatever one has chosen them to be. It’s about friction and resistance, the Second Law and the formation of structure.
But what do I want to do? Magick’s largely a fraud. The religions are opiates and lullabies. What’s left? Love and passion seem promising avenues of exploration and entertainment. That D&D campaign I was talking about a week or so ago may be fun (it will have a chance to get off the ground when my players’ schedules free up). But what’s The Great Work? (Why must there be one? Because my life seems spectacularly unsatisfying without it.) Tags: me, spirituality
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lanning | |
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Would someone please tell me what the hell a regarded thespian turned actor is? Has thespian acquired some meaning of which this cranky, aging English speaker is unaware? I'm drowning in this stuff lately. Example: concerning. As in oh, yes, self-enucleation rates among LJ-readers have tripled! This trend is very concerning. No. This trend is very understandable alarming, or distressing, or upsetting, or frightening, or shocking, or startling, or any of a dozen other adjectival synonyms. Concerning is a preposition meaning about or with regard to. That it has been encouraged to trespass into the realm of the adjective is alarming, distressing, upsetting, frightening, shocking, startling, etc. Tell it to go home. Next week in our series of pointless rants: Apostrophes Are Not Always Your Friend, or Won't Someone Please Think of the Contractions?Current Location: work
Current Mood:  cranky
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