Shouldn’t This Be My Story?Multiple Sclerosis

tombuazit

Active Member
How much of my life is bull shit. Most if not all That is all I know. I have done what with my life. I have ended it, on a bed with a 20 year old Japanese girl who looked 12. We couldn’t communicate. What the hell was I doing. Why did I feel bad, why? She was of age, and knew what she wanted, but still I felt bad. I Felt like shit. Why? What is going on in my world.

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I should be doing my Apad paper, but instead I am downloading internet porn and jerking off. What the fuck is up with that. I spend so much time, so much time. What can I do. I know I need to be doing my school work, but instead I am on the net, chatting, watching; or at the bar, drinking, smoking, talking; or with a woman, fucking, trying to fuck, dying. What is wrong with me. Why do I feel the need to try and fuck every woman I see. Succeed or not, try or not, I want to fuck them all. Something inside of me is ripping to get free.

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I drank the other night. I was with a girl that I have really liked lately. A girl who is fun and exciting, she makes me feel horny and deep all at the same time. I had her here, it was nothing we hadn’t done before, but this time; fuck. This time, I had an image of my ex. It just entered my head, and the girl had to leave my bed. What else could I do. Who else could I be. It all came back, suddenly. All that pain, all that hate, all that love, all that hurt. IT all came back, and wanted to hurt something. I wanted to hit someone. I told her to leave, this girl. She wanted to finish what we had started, but I couldn’t, or wouldn’t is a better term. I wouldn’t hate fuck her, and that is all I could at the point. The only thing I could do was a hate fuck, and R gave me more of that then I need in a life time. I still have the marks on my back from my X-mas trip. I know this girl would be really into it, I know that she is a bitch. And that is why I had to ask her to leave as well. I am always with bitches. And I needed to be without one at that point. The sadness and sinking within me, needed to be held, but I wanted to be alone. Nobody can hold me; I can’t even hold me.

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How much of my life is bullshit. How much of my life is death warmed over. Why can’t I fucking be happy with myself? Why do I have to trade in a girl I really dig for girl one I can’t talk too. And why do I dig women who are such bitches? How long can death live? I have been doing it for a while, I wonder why. What should I be doing right now, should I be kicking a ball around, should I be writing a paper, should I be fucking someone, should I be drunk, should I be high, should I be taking care of children or elderly, should I be fighting. What should I be doing? I want to be alive, but I do not know how. I feel dead all the time, and I can cover it for a little while, but it always comes back, and I am forced to face it. I face it, I stare at it longer then I think anyone else I know ever does. Why? Why do I bother to look at the world as it is rather then as my mind tries to see it? Why do I bother looking at myself? Nobody else seems to care to listen or see, they only want to think. Why do I fucking do this if it is torture. Is it because I want to live, I want to be alive, even if I am not. What does She want? I am going to die someday, I feel death hunting me, and I wish so badly to let Her catch me. But alas, I live. I fucking live. I want it though, some part of me, wants it, this breathing, this pain, this body that eats too much, drinks too much, smokes too much, fucks too much, sleeps too much, lives too much. I want it. I try to get rid of it, but for some reason, something inside of me wants to keep kicking. Something wants to live. Fuck me for understanding why? I hate life, as much as I hate you.

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People bother me so, they drive themselves into my heart and drink down my blood. Like worms in my body, pushing themselves into me, only to hurt me, to fuck me and leave me. I am not alive to them, and their lives mean nothing to me. They see me as a thing, a perch upon which to stand. I am tired of that. I am tired of being in a world of the blind, deaf, and stupid. If I could hurt them I would, but would it really be worth it to feel their skin strike the ground? No, I prefer to fuck them I guess, I prefer to let them use me as I use them. I prefer to make them want my fuck, and then take it away. Perhaps it is the only way I can hurt them. Those people around me, who I hate, all of them. I know that the men around me are jealous of who I have fucked, and who I can. I know that most women I fuck want to fuck me again. I know that most people wonder how someone as ugly as me can fuck so much. I know that there is envy, I hope they choke on it. Their fucking envy, their fucking thoughts, whatever they are. Who ever it is I hope those people fucking choke and die on their pettiness.

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I know that I am being crazy, but crazy is what I am. How can I be sane, in this world, this world of misery and politics. Why should I even try to be sane. I just want to fuck you, and make you need it. I just want to hide under my own bed, and play the scared child for once instead of the monster. But alas, I have been type cast, and the monster I will have to be.

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I wish <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:eek:ffice:smarttags" /><st1:country-region><st1:place>China</st1:place></st1:country-region> was here, she always has a way to sooth me, to quiet my pain, my anger. But she is not, she is not even online much these days, with her last year of school under way. I wish that I could talk to her though, but it would be unfair. Unfair to make her hurt for me, to tell her about my memories of my ex. She would feel for me, and I could never want to give her that pain. It is mine, she is too beautiful a person to have to deal with it. I miss her though.

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I do not say this a lot, but I still love my ex. I love her more then ever. It hurts that it is true, but it is. I want her to die choking on pain and agony, but still I love her. “Here comes the sun, little darling, little darling, it feels like you should be here, here comes the sun, and I say its alright…little darling, the smiles are returning to their faces…” I hate the world, and yet I love it. I hate most of all my ex, and yet I love her most of all as well. Nothing I do or say will ever matter to her, so I guess I should just let myself fade away. It has been over a year, I promised nobody more then that. I just want the world to be over, I want to be nailed to a tree and left to hang. Some Bitch would cut me down though. As much as I hate it, I know they would. And I would fucking have to live anyway.

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Fucking myself, and my life, hopefully nobody will have to listen to me bitch anymore.
 
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tombuazit

Active Member
I call it Porn-*

The painting as a whole


Close up on the faces



There are also close ups of the corners on my webpage. I tried a collage of practice paintings that I did for "She." I thought that the practice paintings had turned out well and wanted something to capture their feel. If it is perfect thank the model, who was trusting and patient (and who laughingly named it).

Find cose up's on:
The Porn-*'s own page
or
the main painting page
 

tombuazit

Active Member
Do ever have those moments when someone is laying beside you, and you want to get up to go pee, you have to go pee. But your legs are just numb enough, just painful enough that you know if you try to stand up they might just not work? Your hands you know do not want to move, and your back has started to itich in just that way. If the person besides you knows about your condition, you do not want to try to get up because of that dehumanizing concern, that pity that will take away what you are; and make them unduely worry. If the person doesn't know, you do not want to answer any fucking questions. So you choose to just lay there, even though you really need to piss, you lay there until the other person falls alseep or leaves.

That is Multiple Scelrosis in a nut shell.

Deb, I ussually sleep around 3 hours a night, sometimes 4-5 if I get a good nights sleep. And honestly I find that my painting cuts into my other times. So when I should be studying I am painting. So far it makes me feel that no matter what I am doing, I should be doing something else.
 

tombuazit

Active Member
Also I had a dream with you in it just now. Kind of weird. We were walking through a park (really wide and grassy, but on a hill). And suddenly this guy drives up (in the grass), and jumps out. You say some name, as if you know him, but he doesn’t say anything back. He yells around, but not really anything, just basic yelling around. And then he pulls a big hammer out of his car. Like a sledge hammer, but big, so big that he can’t hold it up, but has to drag it around behind him, and then really work to pick up and swing. He chases us around the park with the hammer, trying to hit you. He slips on the hill though and falls down, rolling, and finally landing with his arms and legs thrown out and the hammer a little farther down the hill. Rather then see him get up, we run away, to a big white house/apartment building, and as we enter a really long hallway, I woke up.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:eek:ffice:eek:ffice" /><o:p></o:p>

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So I thought I would reach out and say high.<o:p></o:p>
 
"do you hate your walls because you want to be free, or do you want to be free because you hate your walls.." Comic Book called Books of Magic.

Fucking spider, fuck you. I just tore all the furniture out of my apartment. Fuck what my roommates or neighbors think. I woke up a few days ago with a big fucking bite on my calf. The next day a big bite on my thigh, and the next day on the other thigh. They itch like fuck. I even have been wearing sweat pants to bed, but the little bastard is still getting on my legs. I saw it today. I seen the fucker, run under my bed. I have since removed ever piece of furniture that is removable and some that are not (ovens are heavy). But the bitch will be out of my house. I have bites on my arms, legs, back, and sides. Spiders are holy to my people, but this one decided that one of us had to die, or move. I will move it. I will chase it into a corner, catch it and move it. If it will not go peacefully, I will be forced to end its life in this world. It is huge. Huge like big huge. It’s a jumping spider, but it has gotten huge off my blood. I will remove it from my apartment, one of us will still live in this apartment tonight, one of us will not.

 
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tombuazit

Active Member
I guess another post can't hurt

I hate to throw shit your way, but I just needed someone to talk to. I am not telling anyone else about this, but I needed someone to talk to about it.

I am not sure if I told you but I went on some meds, and after a time had to go off the meds, I was doing because I had an adverse reaction to them physically, and they started to fuck with my personality and stuff. Since I came off them, I get really tired all the time. Fatigue I guess is pretty common and I had been pretty lucky with the light treatment it had given me so far. Luckily the doctor said that it should pass. The MS is slowing down its attacks on most of my body. So physically I should be great for awhile. I am going to start lifting weights and working out every Tue. and Thu. To get into shape incase the shit decides to act back up towards the rest of my body.
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The negative is that is has started to concentrate on the nerves that go to my eyes. I spent most of last week (5 days) only being able to see shapes moving. The doctor said that if they cannot find medication to slow it, I can expect that the attacks will start much more frequently and last much longer then they use to. The end result of course being total sight loss. They think that this jump was caused by the reaction with the meds. They are interested that it has almost completely stopped all other attacks, and hope to find out why to see if it can help people with other forms of MS. So I am of course scheduled for many tests that have little to do with my own problem. My eye sight is good today, and I am glad for that. But what can I really do.
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It sucks, all the things I want to see in my life, I might never see them. The funny thing is seeing you again was one of the first things I thought of. I am not sure how to handle the news, luckily I was pretty much sightless when the doctor told me, so I did not have to face anyone, lol. I have been kind of down, I hope that it holds off for a few more years so I can finish law school, and have that to fall back on incase. Otherwise I do not know what I will do. Hell I am not sure what I will do anyway. It puts a lot of my life in perspective. How much of it have I spent fucking around, even knowing I had MS? I have dated women who are nothing to me, and hang out with people I who do not really care about. The doctor said that he is sending my information to a specialist in eye nerve stuff (not sure what they call it), to confirm what he thinks. The specialist is suppose to be amazing, I guess she knows her shit. He wants to get a timeline, or at least confirm his. Luckily it is measured in years, but sadly not many. I do not know, I guess I just am in shock or something. I do not know what to think about it all. I wish I could just hold your face in my hands and look at you. I want to see you in your pajamas, in your coat. Watch you get ready to go to work, see you all dressed up to go out, looking hot and tasty. I want to see you sick with dark eyes and runny nose. I want to see life, I wish I could stand beside CDA lake and watch the sunset, and just hold it in place. There is a lot I wish for, but life doesn’t work that way I guess.

It’s funny, I am down even more today then when the doctor told me. Last night I met a girl. I could not see her, but Upstairs Guy assured me she was hot. He thinks she probably talked to me because I was the only one not staring at her (if I was I sure didn’t see her). She is a lawyer, getting ready to move to. We screwed around and this morning when she left she said that she would have to call me because she had a really jealous husband (Uncomfortable shock for me). It was kind of a bitch. She was really cool and funny, and fun to be with. But I have no idea what she looks like besides thin, and I can guess some things by touch. Upstairs Guy took a picture of us talking with a digital camera so I will see that much tomorrow when I talk to him. I guess the point is that why did I waste my fucking time? This girl will lead nowhere else. I want more in life I guess. I mean I can count off what I want to spend my time on, and this bitch is not one of them. I wish you were here so I could have someone to talk to about this, but I do not know if it would do any good. I have to get on with my life right. I just want to crash out forever. I am torn in that. I want to just lay on my bed and feel like shit, but every moment I do that I am wasting time I could be seeing things. I am just pissed I guess, and wistful. I wish history could be changed. All those years I have fucked around. Oh well.Oh well. I am afraid as well I guess. Right now when the vision goes, I can make out movement still, like the mist swirling; it kind of pretty really. But what happens when that goes. I mean on the days I have the mist, at least I can fake it. Nobody guesses that I can’t see them. Hell as long as I stay quiet most people here are so absorbed with themselves, they wouldn’t notice if I was missing my arms. I guess I am afraid what will happen when I can’t hide it any more. When people notice, that on some days I do not wave from far away, or I greet everyone the same, noncommittally, until they speak. I am afraid of a lot, and yet, I on some level I just do not care anymore, and I am more afraid of just being blind.

Sorry for bringing you down. I just needed someone to write my bullshit sob story too. I do not really want to tell anyone else at the moment.

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Hope things are better on your end beautiful.
 
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What do you have? Just a question? What do you have?

I live on the road the never ends, would you like to visit?

I have moved. The new place has been painted and scrubbed down. It is kind of a shithole, but it is cheap and huge. The rooms are big, and the living room and kitchen are immense. I am planning on caulking the bathroom this week, and work on the shower doors. Who knows, it might just turn out great. The new paint really really helped. Thank fate for the Salvation Army.

I am not sure why I have decided to restart my journal, or why I decided to write in it this time. I guess, I am just lonely with my thoughts. I feel like no one sees me, and maybe that is my fault. I am comfortable, broke, and looking for a job. I really need a job.

I passed all my classes, and I am on break until August. My mom paid to have my car shipped, I fear that she choose between visiting me and sending my car. I love having my car, but I feel guilty that she made this choice. I feel guilty that I could not afford to do both. I could not, and she choose to send the car. I wish she had came. I wish that I was not from a poor Rez family that can’t afford to come visit me, and I cannot afford to go visit them. I wish that I…well I wish a lot.

My health has been ok. Hand problems, eye problems, and my left leg has been acting up, but otherwise I have been fine. My left hand shakes sometimes, and this worries me, I worry that someone will notice it. I tell no one really that I have MS, I prefer to keep it quiet. There are pains sometimes in the back, and other places. I still know that I am going blind, but I guess that is ok. I am fine, no worries.

I was dropped by every woman I was kind of seeing, now they are all on the kind of not seeing list. Luckily none where in my school, none of the ones that actively dislike me anyway. I am lucky that way I guess. I have met a girl who I am interested in, but I am taking it slow. I do not know, I have said many times I want a normal relationship, perhaps someday I will get one.

I still talk to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:eek:ffice:smarttags" /><st1:country-region><st1:place>China</st1:place></st1:country-region>, we have not chatted in awhile which makes me sad, but we email a lot. She just graduated from her college, and is thinking about going on for more school. I guess I will have to wait and see how that goes. Its odd to miss someone you have only met in person once.

My life is mostly ok. I am dangerously broke and in need of work and money. But that can be taken care of. I will take care of it, somehow.

I meditate a lot, I think it helps with the MS, I think it helps with many things. At least it is something to do while everyone else in the world sleeps; which I cannot do, not for any length of time. I think that the more I meditate the harder it is for me to sleep, but if I can’t sleep it is the only thing that makes me feel rested. Oh well, life moves on.

I am not sure if I will start back up my journal. Maybe, maybe not. I know that I am glad I have written this piece. I am glad for a lot of things. I still wish for so much, but She only gave me one life, and to not be happy with it, well that would be rude.
 
I do nothing all day but play civilization and apply for jobs. It is a good life.

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On the down side, my car was broken into the other night. They took little, but meaningful things.

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I lay asleep in our world.


Might post more when more happens
 

tombuazit

Active Member
So law school is starting up again. I am in my 3rd week, and it is horrible busy. I am not sure why I came back to this journal. I am missing it more and more. I guess I am glad it is here. I still do not want people from my life to read it. I would hate that. But life is what life is.

I still dream of nothingness, but now it is a peacful and calming feeling. It is a reasurance, that everything is ok.

I am no better with women. Currently the only girl i am seeing has a BF who lives on the mainland. I guess I am only comfortable with long term relationships that can never work out, or become really long term.

I have done so many paintings lately its ridiculous. I love it.

I have missed you all, and I still wonder about your lives. I will be jumping back into that saddles soon enough. I have so much reading in journals to catch up on though.
 
I have been working on a book for a while. And i have just trashed it. I am finding it hard to codefy these ideas into chapter and verse. The Book is based off of 3 main articles I did on the self and freedom, and several smaller papers I did for school on the same subject. I base most of my work on Sade, though Wittgenstein is a huge influence as is ZhuangZi and several exestenlists. I have found though that many people are interested in my theory (a calming of Sade's really). I have had many conversations with people, as well as Chats on the subject in an attempt to get the ideas out there. I will be using this thread to place chat transcripts, bits I write, and reworkings I create on the site. I welcome posts or PM's or IM's that contain questions, though I would request you not go off on your belief, our how you see the world. Restrict your questions to the theory, and how it is presented.

chatting about what philosophy was, I first outlined basic logic as a description of how philosophy worked. then moved into this discussion.

Transcript has been moved to here:

thanks

and here is a follow up email, that needs work, now that I reread it.


Sade's Story from Chat
The story I am refering to above is about Sade being in prision is an essential element. I had already told this friend that story so it is mostly ommited. Here it is for those interested

Sade related in his letters a moment while in prision. His time in that particular prison amounted to 9 years. All of which were spent in a small cell with a single window, to high to reach, and double walled so as to allow some light but no view. This was the only light he had. His only human contact were two guards, that would come in at some point everyday and beat him, rape him, leave him food, and exchange his bucket. His wife and friends sent him many gifts and things to help in his imprisonment, and the guards at times would give him these things, and at times not (luckly ink and paper ussually got through). For the frist 2 years of this experience Sade suffered tremendusly. He tried to fight off his attackers, block the blows, refuse to eat the horrible food, yell, and tantrum over the guards theft.

But in the second year he realized that he would never be let go. He would be trapped here forever because Nobels could not be executed but his mother-in-law would never let the courts realise him. He decided then that if this would be his life he would learn to enjoy it. He taught himself to take pleasure in the sex with the guards, in the beatings, in the horrible food, in his little room. He took away his perconcieced ideas of what the world should be, and accepted the world as it was. This ability, and choice shaped the way his entire life worked afterward. Even when realised from this prision he kept his memory of the ability to be free internally. He worked toward perfecting this through out most experinces in his life.
 

tombuazit

Active Member
just a nice little dream.


I close my eyes and you are here, besides me. We lay reading on my bed, I with my book, and you with yours. It is a comfortable silence that covers us, the silence of two people who are lovers and friends. It is hard for me to keep my hands off of you, even here as we read. But I know we need to finish our stories, and sleep. You have told me how much you like fucking me, how you like my fingers and my tongue. You have told me how much you like my cock, and I in turn, cannot but help but want to please you with it. But tonight you say you do not want it. My hands though do not listen. They roam up and down your body, along your face, ears, neck, and head. I want to touch you, and if you stay the night, I might not be able to stop myself. I struggle, because I want you to stay the night, I do not want you chased away from sleeping besides me, because of my inability to keep my hands off of you. So we make a deal.


It is time to sleep, and it is either take you home, or a night of my hands all over you. But as I said we have made a deal. You take one of my shirts and use it to tie my hands together, then pulling my hands over my head you tie it to the wooden frame of my bed. I lay shirtless, with only my pajama bottoms on, and I am sure I can sleep tied so; and this way I will not bother you. I roll onto my back, finding comfort in your head on my chest, and your arm around me. I close my eyes to try and sleep.

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Your hand moves along my chest and stomach though. I can’t help but think of how much I want it on my face and cock, but you are content with just caressing my chest. I move a little to get more comfortable, and your hand moves up to my face. You slide your fingers through my hair, down my cheek, along my neck, and back up across my face. You play with my face, my hair, my chest. Your hands dancing around me, and I can’t help but want it not to end. I hear you kind of laugh and then pull away from me. I look over at you, and you are looking at me. We share a smile, and I re-close my eyes, thinking that it is now time to sleep. But with you besides me sleep does not come. I hear you get up, move around, but I lay motionless, trying not to think of you getting ready for bed. I try to drown the images in my mind of you removing your bra, one strap, then the other. I try not to think of you sliding your pants down, and revealing only your panties. I assume you will leave your shirt and panties on; but still the thought of you even that bare, makes me think of how smooth your legs would be to my touch. How the scent of you would fill me if I kissed you, or the hardening of your nipples in my mouth. I adjust to be more comfortable, as you lay back down besides me. Laying your head on my chest, your hand again begins to caress me.

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I open my eyes, unable to not look at you, and to my shock you are naked. Completely and totally naked. Your hand snakes into my hair and you pull on it. Oh how your nudity tortures me. I can feel my cock harden, as you gently kiss my nipple. Your hands slide my bottoms down, and you throw them aside, and your hands dance now over my thighs, balls, and chest. But still you do not touch my cock. How I want that, how I harden and need it, but the touch doesn’t come. You slip your legs over me and straddle my waist. With one hand you guide my cock into the crack of your ass, and hold it there. Your other hand slides between your legs, and you begin to masturbate. I don’t know how I can watch this without ripping my hands out of their restraints, but you have tied me too tight. I smile up at you, and you down at me. Your body moves first back then forward, as you grip me and pleasure yourself at the same time. I can feel your wetness pressed against my skin, and the feel and sight of your fingers doing their dance upon your clit locks my eyes open. You lower your nipple into my mouth, leaning over me as you do. I suck it greedily, and nibble it just a little. Your hand holding my cock, moves to my hair, and you grip it firmly, as you press my head against your breast, your other hand still dancing along your vagina. My cock, pressed still against your ass grows harder, as you move your body back then forth. What can I do, but enjoy your nipple, and the feel of you masturbating.

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How long this goes on, I have no way of knowing, when one is in heaven time must stop. Your kisses along my neck, face, and mouth are hard and needy. You move from those kisses to pressing one nipple and then the other into my mouth, over my face. I strain for you. Search for you, need you. Just when I think you are about to climax you stop, and your hands go back to my cock. Playing with it, using the friction of your palms, fingers and ass to make it hard. You raise up, and move behind it, sliding down to take it into your mouth, wetting it all the way to the base, as you deep throat me, and caress my balls. With one hand you hold it as another slips a condom over me. Then you kiss my balls, my waist, and move slowly up my torso, until you are again sliding your tongue across my lips. My cock is in your gentle touch, as you guide it into your pussy, and you suck on my mouth with yours. We both inhale sharply, at this new pleasure, I strain up, as you push down your hands now on my chest. You set on me, around me, on me, for a few minutes, letting your hands caress my body, my face, my hair. You set up, and slide your finger again down onto your clit. You begin to masturbate, only now with my cock inside of you. As your crescendo builds, you begin to move. Slowly at first, one hand between your legs, as the other alternates from your body to my face. Then you grab my hair, and begin to move faster, up and down, forward and back, grinding, and whimpering. I can barely take it. I want to fill you with my come, I want to shove everything I am into you, as you ride me. But it is you that is in control, it is you that takes what you want from me. You ride, alternating between speed, and slow. Long slow strokes and rapid little ones. Your hands both move up into my hair as you lean forward pressing your clit against me, and you pull. Your hands pull on my hair as you ride me, your hands tighten on my throat, as you whimper for more. They grip my arms and press on my chest as you ride. What can I do but try and press up with my ass, try to enter you more deeply; but you are in control. Where are your hands as I come, I do not know. They are touching me, they are touching you. I curse, I come, I shake, I need. Even as I finish you do not stop. Your movements become small, and slow. You lay down upon my chest. Your head and body resting on me, as my cock rests within you. One hand reaches up and touches my face, my mouth. It’s movements are light and slow now, as you touch me in the way a blind woman would. I fall asleep like this, with your weight comfortable on me, and your hand dancing along my face.

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Later in the night I awake, my hands are untied, and you are still upon me. What ever happens………
 

tombuazit

Active Member
pish. Let me tell ya little story about a man named Allah. No really thats his name. he is from Cuba, and is about 60 at the moment. In cuba he was a shoe maker. He made beautiful shoes so he says. He joined the army to fight the United States, he feared that we were getting ready to invade Cuba, and he wanted to fight for his great way of life. But then Castro's brother took over the military, and used it to invade Hatti. Allah refused to go. He told his comanding officer, that he was unwilling to fight and die to invade a country, he wanted to fight for his freedom, and his love of communism. The took him out, placed a gun to his head, and told him to go. He said no, he was soldier to die to keep Cuba free, not to invade someone else. They shot most of his platoon who also had refused. Until they ran out of bullets and time, and only 4 of them were left. they were placed in jail, until it could be decided to use bullets on those 4 or not. He sat in jail for a year. Then one day, a woman came, and pulled him out, she dragged him through the streets of Havana, dirty, naked, chained, and showed him a boat. She said to him and thousands of others. Our great country has decided that it will have no more criminals. We will start over. You have the choice, to get on that boat, or get in a grave.

He got on the boat. And it, in 1979, dropped him off in Miami with something like 70,000 other cuban criminals and refuges. the US balked at first, then imprisoned all the criminals for a set time, and then let them all go. Allah loves Cuba, he is waiting for castro to die, and Castro's brother to die, so he can go back.

just because you are drafted does not mean you have to fight. Maybe if more of US's bastard childern of babyness believed in their country as much as Allah, we wouldn't have only 20 years of peace in our entire history as a country.
 
films and dolls

http://www.hiff.org/

My time is filled with these movies. They are wonderful. Wonderful I say

I will have time to write more about stuff soon, I just wanted you guys to know about the Film Festivel if any of you are in Hawai'i.

How many people feel like dolls, how many people feel like they are nothing more then "here." Feel purposeless, faithless, apathetic, quiet inside. How many people live day to day lives on the outside, but deep down know that they are fake, they are not who or what they pretend to be. How many people know they do not belong where they are at, do not belong here. But see no reason to go some place else, because they would just not belong there either. How many people are thinking everyday about how much they are not who everyone sees them to be. Others see something that never existed, something that could never exist, something that is not the person viewed. Does it hurt to be that lie? Does it hurt to be something nobody will ever know? Could these people ever open themselves to show what they are? Is that even possible, isn't life built on life after life, lie after lie, illusion after illusion, mask upon mask, truth upon truth? What am I saying? Why would I say it, what would I want from it, what is there but us, here, reading it, thinking it, feeling it, being it, living it. What else is there but us, here.

and yet, I still cannot love you.
 

tombuazit

Active Member
I stand looking out the window. What is it that I see? Do I see clouds in a covered sky. Do I see stars nestled in a purple night. Do I see a sun staring out into a bright day. Is she wearing a flowered sundress as wanders the pavement. Is she wearing a tight skirt and tube top as she stares down at flowers. Is she in a jogging outfit, as she runs down the road. Are there flowers. Does it matter what I see. I stand looking out the window. Here I am there we are, we stand looking out the window. Our room is solid, white stone, shaped and carved into my window. I stand by it, I look out it. But I will never be able to go where I look. People walk by hurrying on their way, some stop to smell a flower or two, look into the windows of shops and stores. Each of them out and in life, sometimes they are alone, sometimes in pairs, hugging close and reaching into each other’s lives. Some come in groups large loud affairs of bubbling life, each capering fool, grouped like a pack of dogs, leaping over a piece of meat, dancing backward then forward, side then side. I stand looking out the window. The flowers are in bloom, the frost has yet to kill them, the frost that enrapts my room. I hate the frost, so cold on my skin, it watches out the window with me. The frost will reach out and touch the flowers out my window, touch them and destroy them, drain their color, drain their life, drain what makes them unique. I am cold inside, as I look out the window. I hate the window. It does nothing but show me the world I can’t be in. I am nothing. I stand by the window and watch.
 
What is there right now but your mouth. It engulfs me, ensnares me, pulls me up from where I lay. It is warm and wet, taking in first my head, then my shaft. Your fingers grip my balls as your mouth takes me down to the base. Back and forth your mouth moves along the shaft, first deep, then shallow, I can think of nothing else. I slip a pillow under my head so I can watch you work. Maybe click off a few pictures as you look up at me. Each stroke brings your face up so I can look at it, eyes closed, nose breathing, mouth locked around my cock. Then down again, so I can only stare at the top of your shaved head. I grip my sheets, as you suck my being into my cock. For a time I know no other sensation, then you again start to play with my balls, and that light massage almost makes me come right there. I can feel your other hand’s fingers gently holding my shaft as your mouth slides up then down. I reach down and grip your legs pulling you around so we are in 69. Your beautiful cunt sets just above my face. And I suck your clit into my mouth as you again take my cock so deep into your mouth. I reach one hand down to play with your nipples, and the other up to grip your ass. The smell of your pussy is all around me, and I can barely contain myself, as you take me in deeper and deeper. I slip my finger into your asshole, to feel how tight it is around my finger. In and out, I move it to the rhythm of you sucking my cock. How long do we lay like this. Your mouth like heaven, your pussy so sweet, the feel of your breasts in one hand your asshole with the other. I can take it no more, and I come, filling your mouth. I am torn, my cock is sensitive and I want you to stop, but your continued sucking makes me come more and harder. I bury my face in your cunt, my finger in your ass, and grip your breasts as I come again and again into you. We lay there like that for a few moments, before you roll off of me. I watch you naked and beautiful. The most beautiful person I have ever seen. I take my camera and click a picture of you, and stand. I start taking more, as you watch me, first just laying on your side, then on your front. You stick your ass up like you are about to be taken from behind and I click pictures of you from several angles. Then you roll over, and I click a picture of you laying on your back. You begin to play with yourself, while I and the camera watch. You masturbate yourself to orgasm, and all of it I catch on film. I lay down besides you and we lay waiting for sleep. I want to fuck you still, I want to come in every orifice you have, but I promised, and I keep it.
 

tombuazit

Active Member
more quotes

Ancient Indian Proverb

"Treat the earth well: it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, we borrow it from our Children."




- From the 1927 Grand Council of American Indians

"The white people, who are trying to make us over into their image, they want us to be what they call "assimilated," bringing the Indians into the mainstream and destroying our own way of life and our own cultural patterns. They believe we should be contented like those whose concept of happiness is materialistic and greedy, which is very different from our way.

We want freedom from the white man rather than to be intergrated. We don't want any part of the establishment, we want to be free to raise our children in our religion, in our ways, to be able to hunt and fish and live in peace. We don't want power, we don't want to be congressmen, or bankers....we want to be ourselves. We want to have our heritage, because we are the owners of this land and because we belong here.

The white man says, there is freedom and justice for all. We have had "freedom and justice," and that is why we have been almost exterminated. We shall not forget this."




- Tecumseh Shawnee

"Where today are the Pequot? Where are the Narragansett, the Mohican, the Pokanoket, and many other once powerful tribes of our people? They have vanished before the avarice and the oppression of the White Man, as snow before a summer sun.

"Will we let ourselves be destroyed in our turn without a struggle, give up our homes, our country bequeathed to us by the Great Spirit, the graves of our dead and everything that is dear and sacred to us? I know you will cry with me, 'Never! Never!'"



- From Black Hawk, Sauk

"How smooth must be the language of the whites, when they can make right look like wrong, and wrong like right."



- William Commanda, Mamiwinini, Canada, 1991

"Traditional people of Indian nations have interpreted the two roads that face the light-skinned race as the road to technology and the road to spirituality. We feel that the road to technology.... has led modern society to a damaged and seared earth. Could it be that the road to technology represents a rush to destruction, and that the road to spirituality represents the slower path that the traditional native people have traveled and are now seeking again? The earth is not scorched on this trail. The grass is still growing there."



- From Chief Joseph, Nez Perces'

"If the white man wants to live in peace with the Indian, he can live in peace.....Treat all men alike. Give them all the same law. Give them all an even chance to live and grow. All men were made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers. The Earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have equal rights upon it.......Let me be a free man, free to travel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade....where I choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to think and talk and act for myself, and I will obey every law, or submit to the penalty."



- Sitting Bull Hunkpapa Sioux

"I am a red man. If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man he would have made me so in the first place. He put in your heart certain wishes and plans, in my heart he put other and different desires. Each man is good in his sight. It is not necessary for Eagles to be Crows. We are poor..but we are free. No white man controls our footsteps. If we must die...we die defending our rights."



- Many Horses

"I will follow the white man's trail. I will make him my friend, but I will not bend my back to his burdens. I will be cunning as a coyote. I will ask him to help me understand his ways, then I will prepare the way for my children, and their children. The Great Spirit has shown me - a day will come when they will outrun the white man in his own shoes."
 
I get a comercial/info thing.

The casino I managed, is doing a comercial about the benifits of tribal gaming. I get to be the star. They will be covering my plane trip back home, and putting up on TV's all over the northwest (mostly Idaho and Washington I pressume). I am going to ask about getting a copy emailed to me so I can put it up here, and you will all be able to see and hear me in all my glory:)

ok so its not quite about my art, but it still rocks.
 
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