Past President told me: "You need a new job that pays you a decent salary." Huh, put like that, it seems so obvious. I do need a new job that pays me a decent salary. I need to start seriously directing my energies in that direction.
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Way hot SF Import boy asked to take my picture at the GMSMA program committee meeting tonight, because he thought I looked goood wearing my suit that I had worn to work. I wonder if the camera picked up the fact that I was blushing...?
SF Import also invited me back to his place for a massage. Alas. I had to come home so I could update the GMSMA Treasurer's Report. The sacrifices I make for that organization...
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Today I shared with Staffina, Stafforetta, and Staffalina the recent development that I'm all crushed out on Sarge. Now, the median age of this group is 23, and the predominance is towards heterosexuality. I told them ('there's this guy...'), and I was explaining how it was as if cupid's arrow had struck me right through the heart. A real boi-oi-oi-oi-oing experience. Stafforetta asked, "Who is he? What's his name?" So I told them Sarge's name. Staffina and Stafforetta said, "Really? Him? I know him?"
No way.
Way. He's had dealings with the office.
Stafforetta said, "His number is on the database. I'll get it for him. Call him right now and ask him out." Sooooo not helpful.
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For work, I went to a presentation by the City Planning Commission (the lovely Amanda Burden, Commissioner) on the proposals for the redevelopment of the Far West Side, including the Jacob Javitz Center and the Hudson Yards. Y'know, there were in attendance various and sundry community activists, very much opposed to this whole thing. Because it would bring more cars. Etc. And they're going to have demonstrations. And they're going to file lawsuits. And I have no doubt that my boss will be on the front lines of the struggle.
Y'know, I think the thing is brilliant and beautiful. The meeting was held in the Jacob Javitz Center. I walked over there. Through block after block of dead city. It's pure desolation. The proposal includes green space, a tree lined Eleventh Avenue, access to the river front, a ferry terminal, a transportation hub, new residential construction... a whole new neighborhood. Architectonica is the firm that will be doing most of the heavy lifting on the designs, and I like their work a lot. (They've even identified some iconic elements in the current industrial wasteland that they think are worthy of preservation and incorporation into the new design. Love that.)
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Huh. I just had a wild idea. What if I were to send Sarge a card for Valentine's Day, and sign it "From your secret admirer"? Would that win me points or no? If in fact we do hook up, I don't need to mention it. Maybe it would make his day. Maybe he'd conclude that whoever would do such a thing must either be an idiot or a psychopath. Maybe I'm an idiot or a psychopath.
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Four days to go until the weekend. Things are looking good that the forum I'm putting together for work might turn out to be something of a success. Still, there will come a point where Boss Sunshine will be screaming at me. It's pretty much inevitable.
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I signed up for a bunch of GMSMA educational activities to keep me busy through the Spring.
As follows:
Heavy Duty Bondage
Saturday, March 1
Suspension
Saturday, March 15
Single Tail Whips
Saturday and Sunday, March 29 and 30
and, the Spirituality Special Interest Group
meeting on three consecutive saturdays, April 19 through May 3.
Why am I going to the Single Tail Whips workshop? Why, because there's always more to learn, and always something that ARt can teach me. And, I'm going to bring my new eight foot bullwhip and spend the weekend working with that.
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One last thing, and then I've really got to turn my attention to the Treasurer's report. I've been having this sort of interesting masturbatory fantasy lately. (Fasten your seat belts...) Here's how it goes.
In the fantasy, I've got a hot guy (built, big dick, hot ass) whom I capture and seal in a cage. The cage is a sphere of steel bars. It's suspended from the ceiling, and anchored to the floor with a heavy linked chain. The man is welded into the cage. Permanently. I feed him, I give him water. I provide him with cigarets. I use a hose to sweep his shit from where it falls beneath the cage into a drain in the middle of the floor. And hose him down from time to time, too. He is never again going to feel the human touch. He will forever be eroticism potentialized, but never again to be realized.
But wait, there's more.
After he has been my prisoner, and seen and spoken only to me for a few years (although he's totally lost track of time), I present him with a young man, of perhaps nineteen or twenty years old. With his whole life ahead of him. The young man is unconscious. I have another spherical cage prepared. I tell my prisoner that the choice is his as to whether I weld this younger man into a cage that will hang beside him, just out of reach; or whether I return the young man to the place where I found him, where he will wake up in a few hours dazed and disoriented, but unharmed. My prisoner agonizes. This young man means a confederate, a friend, someone he can talk to besides me. And yet, he will gain this friend at the price of doing to this young man the terrible thing that I've done to him.
"So what's it gonna be, cageboy? I'm gonna get to work. But as soon as I hear you say, 'let hm go,' I'll go do that. I fold the young man's arms across his chest. I bring his knees up under his chin. Behind me I hear my prisoner begin to sob. I put the top of the sphere in place. I put the bolts in that connect the top to the bottom, and begin welding them in place. A winch raises the cage, I put the chains in place. Then I tell my first prisoner, "This is gonna be hard on him when he wakes up. He'll need you to explain it all, and to guide him. He's young. There's so much he hasn't done, and now he's never going to do. He'll need you to tell him and teach him."
Time passes. The two caged men fall in love with each other. They unite against me. They mock me. They give each other moral support. They tell stories. They devise ways of making the time pass. The older man shows the younger man how to keep his body in shape by calisthenics and isometric exercises.
Then, one day, I bring them in their food and water. I pass the each bowl through the opening in the cage. While they dig in, I set up a tape recorder and hit play. The room is filled with the conversation I had with the first prisoner on the day when I sealed the younger prisoner into his cage. I leave the room, turn out the lights behind me, and shut the door.
I think that's the most sadistic fantasy I've ever had. And I've had some pretty sadistic fantasies. Can't wait to share this with Helen, my therapist.
'Night. Pleasant dreams.
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