Happy Monday.
"Approaching the checkout lane... Passing Starbucks... Leaving the frozen food aisle... A vision unparalleled.
Jesus Christ... the sight. Standing there as tall as could be and perched upon five-inch spikes, she could not
have displaced more than twenty inches of diameter nor one-hundred-ten pounds of mass. Fucking hell. Tall as hell.
Slender... The thinnest arms coupled with a stance of nearly six feet and a pair of eyes like giant Tootsie rolls.
Holy shit this woman was fluid art of the highest form. Extremely well-defined yet thin arms, nearly nonexistent
wrists supporting hands like a giant fictional spider's legs, and just enough disparity between thighs, waist, and
hips to create a remarkable and beautiful female shape the likes of which we have never seen. Fucking hell anyway.
Why did we need to glimpse this? After suffering a near heart-attack, we were able to regain composure and watch
her walk toward the exit for a second or two... Just enough to add epoxy to the already unreal thoughts in our
heads. Fuck. Absolutely unearthly to the last fucking thought.
From top to bottom... Hair to shoes... Vertical prowess unlike any other. She simply stood there awaiting service
from the cashier and with a slight expression on her beautiful face. Dark skin, black hair, dark eyes. silk tank
over a silk camisole. All black. 'Skinny' medium-blue jeans -- low rise -- and black leather shoes with open toes
and criss-crossed straps. Side seams on her jeans aligned perfectly with the outermost radii of her long legs, and
enough of a diameter difference from knee to hip to appear as a runway model and then some. The modern runway
dictates extreme thinness and she was larger by a margin which pushed her into the stratosphere of shape.
Her waist sat high and in wondrous contrast to the extremely narrow upper torso and hips. The upper thighs were
tapered beautifully down to her knees and fit the jeans with just enough tension to allow full flexing of her
muscles. There was a thigh gap from knees to you-know-where which gracefully widened and provided a perfectly
matched comparison to the outside of her long legs. The ilial crests were just visible enough on either side to
form a phantom Venus and the midriff vision of a lifetime. She was absolutely unreal from every angle and with
every motion. Unreal to the last segment of her beautiful skin. The shoe height provided movement both front and
back and side to side and the combination sent our eyes and other senses beyond words. We do our damnedest to paint
an appropriate image but honestly words fail miserably. Her motions were graceful, slight, slow, and stunning in
nature. The side to side movement of her hips as opposed to her knees displayed very uncommon posture. Each lengthy
step provided our eyes with a sea of matching dots and dashes which, when combined, created an incredible flowing
gait and left a wake of passion filling the room. We gazed upon all of her, and even the slightest of change
was exhibited as none other... All of which still burns within us. Flame and pain, blackened and decayed tissue
that previously was our mind's eye. She took all of it and all of us into a place beyond description. Two and one
half minutes later, we died.
Now of course, we need to think about this a while. Or perhaps longer. The idea of seeing such form has been
something right at the edge of our consciousness for years, and when it does happen the damage begins. During the
previous sighting we did lose it for a bit, and since that was mere months ago the difficulty now feels ten-fold.
Only twelve hours ago was this woman within view, and still we are unable to properly operate as a person. Why the
fuck is this so important? Did someone (or something) secretly implant devices into our brains in order to push us
off the deep end? Is that silly? True? Whatever the fuck, we are here and the damage and difficulty in daily life
has become more than we had imagined possible. Of course, this type of vision is out there and we do realize such
wonder will take place from time to time, but the stark truth is that we do not expect it nor wish it. And now...
Fallout."
Addendum
Had I remained in one of the five fucking colleges when the chance was there I would not be in this pot of
simmering shit. Fucking hell, every time I see my words from the past sessions on MySpace I just drop. How the
fuck can I avoid this? How? Do you have an idea beyond the typical platitude-laden sewage which I have heard for
years? Will someone just tell me to fuck off and die (and mean it this time)? My sister will not, bless her lovely
ass. She knows I'll throw everything to the ground and jump her skinniness before she can complete a thought.
Wisdom from MS, circa 2008:
Me: "Ramie, you look delicious."
She may be my blood, but I would still fuck her eight ways from Sunday. Got a problem with that? Fuck off. I feel
what I feel and I made no apologies back then. I make none now. Bad mood? Yes. Do I care? Fuck no. As I said
before... Not a nice girl. Fucking live with it, bitches.
After such a wonderfully positive weekend I am in the fucking toilet again. Big surprise? Not really. I just need
to talk to someone and I cannot at this point. The fact that I have made friends with some individuals on the
Internet and fucked it all up is not such a surprise either. As often as I may rail on about how disassociated and
disconnected a person can be from their online presence, I certainly have created one very close to my actual self.
This was probably not a good idea. I am not the most stable example of a person. After yesterday's visit to the
big auto show and attendance at dinner afterward, I am in a fucking hole yet again. I saw nice cars, beautiful men
and women, and lovely examples of creativity and innovation. Mostly the spokesmodels, however, remained in my head
afterward and even now. This is prototypical Reiko behavior. I am unable to unglue myself from the vision of a
beautiful person, but to see a shining example of a fine looking male before even entering the fucking show is a
first. Immediately after I spied a six-foot female gliding down the street looking soft, lanky, and very model-like.
Of course, that set the stage for my being aroused by every Goddamned tall woman all fucking day. I even caught
sight of a bikini-top clad young Asian girl on her way to a display in the drift room and nearly lost my breath.
She was absolutely gorgeous and shapely beyond belief.
In other words, very troublesome to my thought processes similar to the damned Mojo girl whom resides in my head
at any given time. Fuck, what a work of art. Anyway, I am distracted through the rest of the day and into dinner.
Even the alluring Hispanic large-breasted beauty that served us in the bar could not get all of the tall models out
of my head. Dinner was the point at which I realized my strong attraction to one of my friends there. He is very
beautiful -- eyes to hands to everything. I was aroused on and off throughout dinner (more than three and a half
hours' worth, to be certain). I am simply all over the fucking map with this one. One moment I am lusting over a
tall, blonde female model that is unbelievably well sculpted, and the next I am sitting across the table from a
male that is forcing me to imagine things I probably should not since his wife is next to him looking beautiful
herself.
This past weekend has helped me to realize just how much impact the fall of 2003 has had on me. That time period
was so damaging. I had no idea those feelings would hang on this long. While it is true that they come and go, for
the most part they are just below the surface at any given time. When I sense a return to those types of mindsets
I must prepare myself for a terrible storm. Memories of the pain I had caused back then are still clear. I am
holding mental images of situations as they played out during that uncomfortable and very down time period. Some
are foggy (probably because much of my memory is still reeling from the copious amounts of vodka within which I
bathed) and others frighteningly sharp. Cutting words and painful conversations dominate that landscape at times.
These days the memories seem to hold tougher lessons than first realized. All of this time has passed, yet my mind
instantly exits the present calm and veers quickly into a wallowing sadness when certain situations arise in my
head. I cannot easily remove most thoughts when that takes place. If I am alone, I can reach the danger level in
seconds. Beating myself up (like at this moment) is something difficult with which to deal and others have
attempted to alleviate this, but I must say that the worst is remembering the pain that I have caused others. One
in particular.
legal
about
clodmaster
archive
home
