The Life

One of my concerns while contemplating the move here to the hinterlands was, "Will I ever get to play again?" The odds were stacked against me: no dungeon, no handy bar scene, no masses of kinky men. 'Edge assured me, "You're a Top; they will come to you wherever you are."

Well, life offers its little compensations, doesn't it?

I've discovered something unexpected.

During the months of July and August, it was play-play-play-play-play-play-play-play! I'd have conversations like, "the only time I'd be able to fit you in would be late afternoon on Thursday, but we'd have to wrap things up by 7pm at the latest because I'm meeting a boy at 8pm and I need to get ready for him." Looking back on it now (How many men did I chain up?) I can't figure out how I did that. In my mind's eye, the events are like the sex scene in a Clockwork Orange.

Last week, I met up with Master Lambertville at the Raven, and we brought a guy back to his well-appointed dungeon. At the time, I don't think I appreciated the event for what it was. I mean, it sort of just happened. I hadn't plannned on playing, and certainly hadn't planned on such an intense scene. But once I got into Top-headspace I was just there.

In the wake of it, I feel sated. Thinking about it brings back an small adrenaline rush. This Friday, I'm meeting up with a very hot and lusty bear at the Philadelphia Bondage Club, and I'm going to whip him. So I'm starting to prepare myself for that intensity.

And it feels like it's coming on too soon.

There's a certain Emily Dickinson quality to my llife here in the hinterlands. Small things have taken on a new intensity. Yesterday, after the gym, I stopped at the Starbucks in Doylestown. I got myself a latte, then sat on the porch, smoking a cigar, reading Chandler's The High Window, and scoping out the straight teenage boys. But it felt like An Event. It was meditative. I was in my body. Be Here Now. I can still recall the slight chill in the air, invigorating rather than uncomfortable. The feel of my muscles after the workout at the gym (I did shoulders and triceps). Sipping the cigar, and smelling and tasting the smoke on my own moustache. The smootheness of the latte.

It wasn't what I was going for. I swear! It was, "Oh, I have some time. I'll stop at Starbucks," and not some Zen exercise.

I'm not regretting the Top-o-rama of the summer. At all. That was a lot of fun. But as opposed to that glorious smorgasboord of plenty, this is wonderful too. Food is a nice analogy. Now, it's like, I sustain myself on bland porridge. But every so often, there's some piquant, exotic little feast. Flavors that linger on my palate for weeks afterwards. And I'm appreciating the little feasts more for their singularity, but also, I'm appreciating the porridge more, too. The comforting, familiar blandness. The smooth creaminess.

A scene is all about overloading your circuits. It's Ker-POW!! Diving deep. And I think all of us misunderstand our capacity for that: we can accommodate a lot more than we think we can. The soul seeks that intensity of living, and it will draw on whatever source it can.

It's like the leathergods are keeping you on your toes. Once you worship at their temples, you belong to them. They don't forget about you. Not only is the pilgrimage never over, but you never even get a chance to depart from the road and take a rest for a while. Always always onward. It's always just a little bit more than you can handle, regardless of what form it takes.

Anyway. This blog came out of nowhere. I'll think about these things some more.

---