The Art of Masturbation

The title of Rob's most recent video. 

There's these overlapping, swimming images, alternating between aproximately four different videos. 

I sent most of them ages ago. One I had no memory of, another was much more recent. 

There's one where I'm wearing tight and very fucking short jean shorts and a lace top. One where I'm sitting naked, or almost, and pouring coconut oil onto myself. Another where I'm in fishnets and yet another where I'm just on the bed with a tank top. 

The background sounds are an intoxicating mix of me whispering desires and needs into a mic, my breathing and Mezzanine, a Massive Attack song.

The videos are often in split screen, sometimes it's a video box over the main view. Some clips border on black and white with an industrial steel blue feel to it, others a sort of Polaroid, slightly overexposed and warm toned. They have a filter of soft fairy lights. But there's this glitch. The glitch is brilliant, it's intentional, the video skips, the audio clicks and it repeats almost imperceptibly. I love the glitch. He's inserted it into numerous places. It makes the whole thing unique. It's industrial and harsh and contrasts the soft and sexy images. It gives it an imperceptible edge. Maybe it reminds me of his attention to detail and the fact that it wouldn't be there if he didn't want it there. I think too that It almost mirrors his personality in a way. This warm exterior with unexpected playfully harsh undertones.... Maybe we both have that. 

When I record a video for him I don't watch it. I will sometimes roughly edit them down so they're not too long, but I generally can't stand to watch myself. I can watch myself live, I can watch myself no problem, but once I lose touch, once I get closer to coming, I get embarrassed. I don't want to see myself cum in a video. 

He sent me the video the other day. I'd seen a version at a moment when I couldn't watch. But Saturday I took my time with it. I actually managed to distance myself from it enough that it turned me the fuck on. I came hard, it had been weeks since I came. It was delicious. 

I'm so fond of the videos he's made, I feel sort of bad that I can't show them to anyone. Don't get me wrong... I'm not posting them anywhere public. But man, I wish I could. They are awesome. 

Answers

The poetry of abandoned places, consumed by time and devoured by nature. There is a village in Africa where the desert is slowly taking back what was once her territory. Sometimes I feel like we are all just waiting, like the village, to go right back to nature. Back to whence we came. My body gets tired though. It is decaying as we speak. We all are. From the minute we are born we start decaying. We are simply moving toward closing the circle.

What makes it worthwhile are connections, emotional growth and what chemicals we manage to release into our systems and how often. That craving for oxytocin, the love chemical. It's probably the strongest chemical we have. I'm no scientist but I doubt there's anything stronger and more lasting than oxytocin. 

So the short of it? We're all here to get drugged up before we die. The important thing is who we get drugged up with. That's what counts. That and how many times we can get drugged up. Some people aim for the lowest count, others aim for the highest. 

Sometimes it's inevitable, sometimes we can choose. There's no right or wrong. Just cock and pussy juice running down my legs. That's all that really counts. 

The ancient civilizations all had it right with their female deities. The ancient Venus. The large bellied and large breasted, faceless and limbless statue.

Provocateur par excellence. The embodiment of sexuality. She IS sex. (She is what the warrior in me wants to become). The ultimate objectification of woman like the phallus is the ultimate objectification of man. That is the meaning of life. Therein lies the answer we've all been searching for. Reproduction. But not just any reproduction. Reproduction with the goal of more connection. Oxytocin. 

Missing Luck

I fell at Christmas. Almost a month later my wrist started really hurting and making horrific noises when rotating. 

I went to the hospital to get x-rays but they didn't find anything so I went to the emergency ward and they gave me the option of a cast or a brace.

I obviously chose a brace. It's my right wrist, so that's a ton of fun. I can still do minor things like writing and painting, thank god. 

The other day, I got a cold sore, it was so much worse than normal. The day after I broke out, the whole side of my face started hurting, pain, burning sensation, pulsing and even just to touch the skin or hair around my ears was agony. 

This morning I wake up, cold sore almost gone, but I've got blood in my ear. Scary fucking shit. So now I'm at the doctor's office. 

Waiting. 

Stupid.

...

She can't tell what's going on. She can't even see my eardrum it's so swollen. So, meds to take the swelling down, then we'll see. 

Gah... Feeling sorry for myself. Joy.