A Note From The Writer

Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Monday, January 31, 2005

It's In Full Swing !

Welcome Guests and Blog Punters !!!

You've arrived at The Carnival Of Sins - Seven Deadly Sins Edition. Many thanks to Alexa and Postmodern for joining me in celebrating talented bloggers everywhere.

It was wonderful to read all the submissions and I must thank all the people that submitted.

The Carnival is in full swing !! Hope you have all paid admission fee - which is to link to this page. The website that has the most unique visitors coming to the Carnival will receive a 'one of a kind gift' donated from ultra trendy blogger champions. You have to be in it to win it - Link now!!

Already some bloggers are setting up stalls (you can set one up by clicking the link in the sidebar under stalls) Raymi and Tony and Garrison and many others more to come to show off how skilled bloggers really are !

Waking Vixen has a competition on her site and the prize is a set of hot pictures emailed to you ! I mean hello ! I will be entering that one.

Alexa is just applying her lip-gloss as she is running the Kissing Booth. A special prize will be awarded to to the best kisser (you do a virtual kiss in her comments) Also The Kinky Librarian is giving one lucky reader a chance to play a starring role in one of her fabulous erotic fantasy. Garrison is even having a comp for a phonecall.
Let me tell you lady this is hot hot hot ! He picks up the tab and you get the wisdom of The Church ! Also the wonderful Raymi is donating a drawing for the "I don't need a blog award button to know I'm fabulous" that will be emailed just to the highest bidder. Plus, we have lots more celebrity prizes that are still to be announced. For every hit on the counter we get from your site mentioning the Carnival this equals one "bidding dollar" We all see the counter that I set down the bottom, and I will also be offering bonus "dollars" to those that visit sideshow alley or donate other "prizes" for the "Celebrity Auction" ! So get cracking !

Please support other bloggers and link to this page and enjoy the festivities.

Please feel free to wander to any of these posts mentioned below in my final choice for the Seven Deadly Sins. Don't forget to go and play some games in the sidebar as well !

The Carnival Of Sin Management

The Seven Deadly Sins Posts

Thanks again for all the submissions *blog swoon*
It's really good to see writers being proud of what we do - any blogging with passion is good blogging. Alexa started the Carnival to really spread the word about other great blogs out there and I'm very proud to be a part of such a great idea.

Tell your friends and leave comments here to support creativity and kinship between bloggers.

Here are our main attractions - thanks for bringing colour to blogland....

Pride - images not work safe - wonderful post on piercing
Envy - this site is work safe - short story done right
Gluttony - this site is work safe - drug binge gone wrong
Lust - this site does contain sexual references - Real Pussy Talk
Anger - this site is ha ha funny - Mango's vacation from hell
Greed - this site does contain sexual references - Indian Overdose
Sloth - this site requires thinking - Sleep Is No Sin

The next stop for the Carnival is Feb 7th 2005 , Host ; NY Escort's Confessions.

If you wish to partake in the next Carnival then please submit your blog here

Saturday, January 29, 2005


Had my doctors appointment today and had the six month PCR test and I'm 100% negative.
I was offered to cease treatment but that would lower my chances of clearing virus to 30%.
If I continue for the next six months of Combination Therapy then I will have a 50% chance.

However, in order to stay on the drugs I need to have another "chemo related drug" that requires three injections a week and has a nasty side-effect of chronic bone pain. It means even more blood tests and more appointments and it also means that I will be having the full strength drugs which is great but daunting - I wasn't coping so well as it was. I had my new injection today and I visted the cancer ward and saw some really disturbing things and very sad. I started to feel faint and tears started forming, but I need to be brave. I've got emails from people saying get out of your past and into your future - my future is my story. I am who I am. In time, I will be out living life and getting famous. Right now though, I'm really quite sick. I find blogging is a great way to keep my brain working and also a great way to practise writing. I'm sure you will agree that my actual writing style has progressed quite well and this blog is only four months old.

I know that my life will always be a beautiful love story that I share with you. I love to write and with me - there is no memoir - it's all of me. I've always remained true to myself and thats why I'm not lost. I'm not living in the past - I'm writing it down to share my lessons of love with those that want to buy my book. I don't know the details of my future yet but I'm planning for it to be bright.

A lot of memoirs that I'm going to write will not ever show in this blog either - you will have to buy the book lovelies. Trust me, I know what I'm doing.
Just enjoy the ride.

I hate being sick - it's so passe.


Thursday, January 27, 2005

Cold Water

Musical score - Cold Water - Damien Rice

Long into the night, the rise and fall of our voices could be heard from behind the thin plaster walls of the Motel. The Ex wanted to know all about the betrayal and all about Marcus. He couldn't bare to doubt my emotions so he focused on the lust. He asked me to describe how nice his cock had felt inside me. He demanded to know when was the first time we slept together and how many times I had climaxed. I didn't want to talk about the details but it was the only way he could rest.

"Have you ever thought about him when I'm inside you?"
He reached up and and slipped the satin strap from my shoulder and kissed my shoulder, asking with his eyes.
"Yes." I said softly. It was strange to be so honestafter all the lies, bittersweet at best.
"Does he make love to you as good as I do?"
His hand dipped between my legs and I moaned softly and a smile played on his lips.
"No" I lied.
"Have you thought about being together -" he asked but I raised a finger to his lips to silence him. All I wanted to hear was the soft petals of raindrops, falling from the sky.

"Make love to me" I whispered tothe darkness, his hands swept over the gentle swell of my breasts. His sweet breath tickled the back of my neck, my nipples hardened, my thighs
blossomed apart to recieve his teasing strokes. A single tear slid down my face, make it all go away.
My hands encircle his neck, pulling his lips to reach mine. I kiss him as deep as love goes.
"I love you, I'm sorry" Is all I can say. He scatters kisses upon my shoulder blades and I buck my hips towards his firmness, pushing down with delicious. He lays me down on the bed, the sheets are slightly spattered with rain blowing in through the calico curtains.
"I just can't keep on the gear - you gotta do something babe. You gotta." I resume feeling his body, tracing my fingernails down his soft downy groin.

I taste tears, but it feels so good anyway. Tenderly he snakes a hand around my waist, lifting me onto him in one creamy scoop. So easily he slides in and we fuck so softly in the quiet, making a physical vow to only be with each other. It was the only way, I wrap my legs around him and pull him urgently into my swollen desire, but he teases me, slightly pulling out gracefully of my wet and throbbing need. I sigh even though it feels like heaven.
Gratefully, he builds pace and we move in perfect unison , it's always this good but this seems better than I remember. I feel my climax curve as a delicious orgasm shudders down my spine and renders me totally free, flooding the sheets. Pink and slightly sweaty I reach for him hungrily as we tussle between the sheets, kisses much more urgent and needy. Hours pass and many more times I orgasm, sometimes with tears streaming down my face.
I am breathless.
I am beautiful.
I am his .....Again.


There is no hero in my sky.



Darkness fades as my eyes flutter open and slowly adjust to my surroundings. I wonder where I am. I recognise the seashell curtains, I then know I'm in the bed of the "other man". I feel a twinge of guilt and indulgence as I reflect on The Affair and its progression. How I could feel so at ease with leading this double life?

Leaning over Marcus, I brush up against his tanned body which is lusciously wanton, almost ensnared between the periwinkle blue sheets. He smells so good. My mind languishes briefly over his lusty landscape; so warm and sensual yet so sweet is this forbidden fruit. I strain to make out the evil red glow of the digital clock. Ten pm.
Fuck ! I can't believe it - I'm five hours late !

That's just great , this will be the fourth time this week that I'd be sneaking home later than the original plan or booking that explained my absence. Not that my other life was going anywhere - I could always find the motel room I shared with The Ex. I imagine however that this time there would even more questions . More of the same denials and accusations, which would only make us more determined to lie better next time.

Sighing heavily, I pull on my discarded panties, fishing under the bed for my sundress that I wore especially for my new lover. Fumbling in the darkness for my missing shoe, I soothe his hair back from the slight dampness on his forehead. Sensing me close, he reaches for me in the darkness. I press a warm kiss to his upturned face and again my insides do backflips. I creep out of his unit with the love butterflies still fluttering inside me, for the entire walk home.

The Ex was sitting in almost darkness. Only his scowl was illuminated by the dull glow of Letterman, the tinned laughter doing nothing to detract from the suspense of the situation. I steeled myself for the waves of guilt as I walked in the door, smiling THAT smile. My guilt made my clothes seem invisible, in so many ways I felt naked and dirty. I swore he would smell the slide as I walked past him into the kitchen. The Ex was clever he knew me so well -he says better than I know myself - but that's what I let him think. I'd learnt by having an affair that the less you said - the less you were lying. I went to the pantry, letting my hands skim over the dusty top shelf until I felt the small barrel and the retracted plunger - ready to go. I smiled even though I had done this at least a thousand times before. Heroin would make it all go away.

I flipped the light on as I marched over to The Ex, ready for him to put up a fight about giving me a shot this late at night. I was sick though and I needed it. He had already had his - that was the only way I could get out of the house and not have him panic that I was leaving him.
However, I couldn't hit myself up so it was the one thing I really needed him to do for me - he did it so well. I needed to get high.

Rolling his eyes, he plucked the syringe from my fingers and tapped my vein, jabbing it into my flesh with annoyance. Tonight was different - maybe he had already started to realize that it was over between us, that it was just about the drugs now. I had slept with so many men and he didn't mind - couldn't I do it for me? Couldn't I spread my legs and let a love live between them?
Blood oozed from my arm and I turned my head sharply as he pushed the heroin into the vein, the brown slipping down the needle. Biting on my lip, I felt the heat and warmth flow through my body and I slumped back in total release.

The Ex threw the needle on the floor disgusted so I closed my eyes to our truth. I don't want to talk about it all just yet - I have no more excuses. It's all too hard thesedays - he was my addiction as as much as the dope. I am tired of fighting Junk. I'm tired of fighting him.
I just want to be a normal 23 year old girl. I want something else for my life. I slump further into the seat. I was going to die on this shit.
It had been four years and it wasn't getting prettier.
Ten minutes pass, then five more that seem even longer.

"Are you fucking someone else?"
The Ex speaks to the television, his voice almost murderously light and tense. I raise my eyebrows and exhale deeply, wrenching the shoes from my feet as I lay back on the couch. I take my time to formulate my answer as I light my second cigarette in a row. I look to the ceiling for inspiration as I exhale the smoke.

"No" I say , only mildly suprised.
I wasn't willing to talk about this tonight - besides I didn't know how I felt about Marcus.
I look across to him to show him my lie and make it all smooth again, but he knows my plan and cannot bear to look at my face. The same face that he loved so much but saw so little underneath.

"You're lying - What's his name ? Just tell me please !"
He takes a huge slug from a mug of red wine magically squeezed from the empty cask. I loved how he did that, it was so.. Self-sufficient.

"Not tonight please - I've slaved on my fucking back all day!" I change the channel and wished that the subject would also change but no such luck. Tonight he wanted the truth. Sigh.

Then I had a stupid idea. Heroin only gave me more confidence that I needed to bolster me up and I went with it. I thought maybe the truth would set us free, everything about us needed some cold reality. I had it in bucket loads to give away. I knew I wanted out. Maybe he did too?
I knew what had to be done but I too, was afraid. I was nothing special for loving another man.
I needed to deal with The Ex first.
Even thought I knew how delicate and co-dependent The Ex was , I still loved him very much and wanted to stop treating him like a fool. He was many things; a liar, cheat and manipulator but he never amongst fools.

"I'm not in love with anyone else - if that's what your asking."
I smiled but it fouled in the air between us. None of it seemed real anymore - I'd become a whore even with my own boyfriend. I didn't have a soul to share with him - I had fallen out of love and it hurt to be a fraud.

"You think I'm a fool ? Babe, I know you're seeing someone - I've heard things from other people. I feel it." he said.
"Look at me please" I begged him although I didn't know if I could hide my eyes anymore.

"I can't baby - I know some guy has his dick in you and that you like it. It's all over your guilty fucking face !" gleaming tears budded from his blue eyes, melting like sapphire down his face.

"I still love you" I whispered, closing my eyes in pain. It was a confession not a revelation and it wounded him deep. I lowered my eyes and started to cry out my skeletons.

"All I asked for is the truth - you've stolen my heart forever and I'm falling fast" He held out his hand and we grip hands so tight that our knuckles went white. I stared into those eyes of pain and my heart broke in time with his.

"How long?" He looked at me for the first time and I saw no hate only Pain.

"Three months." I knew he wanted to know everything - but he also didn't.

"It's just sex though - right?"
He searched my eyes frantically, when his hope met no reflection he made a strangling sound, gazing steadfastly at the floor as tears splashed into his wine.

"I don't know...maybe more ...I just don't know"
I realized that this was not the right answer as soon as I said it.

The room started to cramp around me as our faces deformed in the cruel light that tension brings.

"Does he know about the Junk? Does he fucking know about me? Does he know what you fucking do for a living - Wake up to yourself ?!" "Fuck!!"
He slammed the wardrobe door and grabbed his jacket.

"No ! He doesn't - it all just happened and I have been feeling so tortured - " I pleaded
He snorted with derision, stalking around the loungeroom now, gathering momentum.

"Do you want to be with him ?? So you want to throw all of this away - Our hopes, our dreams our life" he screamed as his hands swiped the counter of photographs and knick knacks. I watched in silence as they danced in mid-air and then shattered on the tiles.
Then he was gone. Of course I followed him.

It's raining cats and dogs outside so I have no idea where he is. I just know he is going to kill himself for real this time. I just know how it is with him. I've pushed him too far and now he has nothing to live for. Should I just let him go ? Save myself and wash my hands of this man? Go back to being a teenager and having fun with my friends and my old life I loved ?? Leave him to the fate of a heroin addict - turn my back on him and run for my life ? Could I do that?
No. It couldn't end like that - I'm a loyal fool.

Therefore, I'm pounding barefoot alongside the busy road, screaming into the wet, my eyes aching from peering into the darkness. Cars beep and swerve as I scamper up the highway ignoring the wolf-whistles as I bolt down towards the main road. First I see lights and then I feel chaos. Where is he ? That's all I can think and I don't think of Marcus anymore. I feel one half of me is bloody and raw and I have to stem the bleeding. He is my best friend, the one who knows me. He won't be hurt and he won't die because he can't - that's the end of it.

I have to stem this hurt I made - I must find him!
Screeching tires and horns startle me as I spin around breathless, my dress slick to my body and my hair laced onto my face from the cold rain.
I gasp when I see him, standing in the middle of the road, lurching drunk in front of cars. Oh my god. My legs are wobbling as I run but I must reach him in time.

I'm screaming so loud and not one single person cares they just keep driving through the midnight rain. Cars whiz around his sagging silhouette, hopeless tears getting lost in the raindrops.
He walks into the oncoming path of a car and the whole world...Stops.
I close my eyes and touch god with deep hope. My breath floats in my throat and the horns and the lights fade ..Beat passes and beat resumes as my eyes fly open. He is still there.
I vomit into the gutter and the world starts spinning faster, rocking under my feet. Regardless, I start to negotiate the traffic to rescue him, I want bring him back to our home alive.

I say his name , over and over but it's not working. It's not fucking reaching him at all.

"Baby ! I love you - Please it's not worth it baby - It's over ok??? OK????"
I approach him slowly, I see his nose is bleeding and so is his left hand. I'm trembling but it's not from the cold. I'm frightened but not as much as him.

"Do you want to die?" It was not a dramatic question. He was that lost.
"Why not" He shrugged to the heavens like it hurt to mention them, stars like daggers that only made it harder to pass.

I offer my hand but he refuses to take it. I beg him take it but he seems only cold and vacant.
A truck hurtles past him and he wobbles in the wind, drunk and upset.

"No-one loves me anymore. You were the last one. The Last One ! Imagine that ! So now, I just want to die bubby" He ages a thousand years in the orange glow of the streetlights yet to me he can only be my little boy lost.

"NO! You can't leave me baby! Please listen to me, we'll work this out - please just come off the road!" It's still not getting through and he seems only more certain.

"It's over. Look at me! Look at me!!!" I plead at him, ready to put myself in front of the speeding traffic. I challenge him -

"If you go - I GO !" I grit my teeth and step out into the road. I surprise even myself at my passion.
Is this love or obsession? "Don't think I won't - Don't you fucking dare !" Tears and more tears.

The Ex doesn't look directly at me yet he yanks me back from the bus that whizzes by, mere inches from where I was standing. He then takes my outstretched hand and in that moment I am totally for him. I'm totally for "us". I don't know how I will move on from this - or escape this hold but maybe time will tell. The planet of regret will keep on spinning for one more day and many more nights.

"You look like a drowned rat baby."
He smiles and leans in to kiss me, as the traffic whirrs and buzzes around us, and the rain seals the deal like confetti, when everything has a chance to be clean and pure again.

"I want to know everything - no more lies ok?."
"No more lies" I agreed.

That was my biggest lie yet

Wednesday, January 26, 2005


I'm so horny. It must be the heat , but I won't make excuses. I just want to ..you know...

I'm going crazy as all day long I think about sex. (I love that song) It's just after a workout and I really need to be banged. I can't even type anything else as nothing is this important. Blogging Season begins tommorow. Until then ...

moody blues


Tuesday, January 25, 2005


This week Heroinegirl is going undercover visiting all the blogs on my blogroll.

Heroinegirl is hosting The Carnival Of Sin for the beautiful Alexa for NY Escorts Confessions. The central theme of my hosting week is going to be the Seven Deadly Sins. I will be handpicking the best submissions and the cream of the crop will feature on NY Escort Confessions January 31, 2005.

Postmodern Courtesan will also be hosting on Febuary 14 2005. So yes, it's a joint venture with Alexa, Post Modern and HG at the moment of press.
Alexa is very keen for more female hosts that could enrich our panel. (I'm thinking Kim, Dacia, Trixie, Mistress Matisse and Boy and His Toy for starters ! )

Now - I know that my readers are delightful sinners but for the innocent I will publish the list of Seven Deadly Sins. It can be as naughty and sinful as you like, it's not censored !- submit your best

Click on the sin for a more in-depth review. Related topics are listed below for a idea to get blogging. I will also be looking into a few of my favorite sites and seeing what entries I have found to be exceptionally original and writing that stands on it's own two feet.

If I find something I like - I will let you know in your comments and then you email me back to accept your traffic ! Easy Peasy chicken greasy !

Embrace your sins

Pride is excessive belief in one's own abilities, that interferes with the individual's recognition of other forms of beauty. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity.
Blogging examples could include sexy bitches, snobs, loverats and dirty sex confessions, physical features that you are proud of. It could also be things you are ashamed of.

Envy is the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation.
Blogging examples could include penis envy, celebrity crushes, dreams and goals. Raymi crushes, bi-sexualilty, peeping toms.

Gluttony is an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires.
Blogging examples could include excessive masturbation, sexual experience or indulgence.
I'm thinking Jason Mulgrave. I'm thinking Fat Eye.

Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body.
Blogging examples could include crushes on work collegue, affairs, shoe fetishes, Darling Maggot.

Anger is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. It is also known as Wrath.
Blogging examples could include rants, passion about subject, revenge, debates, Mommy blogs. ( just joking)

Greed is the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual. It is also called Avarice or Covetousness.
Blogging examples could include childhood dreams, addiction, group sex, money, power

Sloth is the avoidance of physical or spiritual work.
Blogging examples could be about blogging addiction, bad habits, laziness, celibacy.

If you don't have an entry that fits into one of these 'sins' then feel free to submit anyway.
I'm off to visit all of the blogs on my blogroll for a start - I know my blogroll is all about sinners.


Sunday, January 23, 2005

Tiger In The House

"Hey Mum.. How's Dad doing? "

I'm making obligatory conversation with The Stepmother on the telephone. It's easier. I can hear the television blaring in the background and it still sounds lonely for some reason. Ever since we grew up, it just gets quieter in that house.

It's the family code isn't it? It's the secret language for "How's Dad's drinking habits this week?"

The stepmother sighs audibly into the phone as she covers the mouthpiece and whispers;
"He's better - he's really trying. He works really hard love" she makes excuses for another ten minutes as if I'm hearing it all for the first time. Unfortunately it's not the first time I have heard the lines. I've know them and use them myself sometimes, less now that I'm not an addict like he is. I'm going to keep hearing "I like to drink and I don't have a problem" or "You're my child - don't tell me what I need". I will have to tolerate the emotional brush-off for maybe a few more years. Maybe it will be all of my life. Why ?
Because my Dad's a drunk. A really bad one.

We all cover for him. We all pretend that we never hoped for more. The Big Secret is that no-one knows how to make Daddy take control of himself. I guess asking him to look after us is considered a parental pipe dream. It was unspoken lore inside our home, that Daddy always had to drink, that was how he would cope as he was very stressed and tired. Sometimes he was "better". I know what "better" means. Better doesn't mean that he has stopped drinking. Better means not punching walls, not harassing everyone. "Better" will never mean sober.

The Stepmother and I have this exchange every time we talk. It's my way of easing my sense of guilt since I gave up on Dad getting sober when I was sixteen. She's still hoping though. Since leaving home around the same time, my parents haven't been sincerely interested in my accomplishments or much of the details that actually make me - me. I feel the same way about them, so it's even. True, this ignorance always serves for awkward moments and creates gaps in the fairytale that make the whole family thing an almighty fable. Maybe when I was a little girl it was easier to believe that I was difficult to love , naughty or just "wrong". I tried to believe in that rather than stomaching the truth. I could no longer trust my Parents. That I actually needed to be my own parent - with no shining example to imitate it wasn't easy. But it was still something that I had to do in order to be who I am today. I still want to make them proud.
Sad but true.

Apparently your father is a 'protector' - what a joke. I feel ashamed saying that aloud. But at times it seems that my Father has become a joke to me.
However, I don't suppose you could tell me - why am I crying then?

Tell me why my father can't handle midday without a beer but he can waste three childhoods in the same bar, with the same shrug of the shoulders. I must mean more than this - I must believe this. No matter how I remember it. Release the pain - but will it save my Dad?

Even though I want to write my story in all it's sordid detail - it will unearth many family secrets that have bound our family together in pain and shame. I wonder if we will all drift apart forever? When my truth is spoken I'm certain that telling my parents exactly how I view them will fracture the feelings of loss and pain , all over again. I may break many hearts as with no real foundation of love to hold our hands together, I take a gigantic risk of being shut out of my family forever. It's how we keep the secret alive - it's not supposed to be painful. (not only for me, but for others I care about and love.)
Sometimes I want to forget about my past completely. I have even moved on lately and ceased contact with my parents. I was a shell, commuting to the nine to five job to catch the shuttle and watch reality TV and try not to think too much about who I really am.
Maybe by miracle (or by curse) I am fortunate to know my bigger plan. I 've been aware of my special talent from a very young age. I'm a healer in a way that is endless and totally natural to me. Last year I had an amazing insight on my survival spirit. I remembered that I made it. The sun on the horizon was there all along - It was me.

There comes a turning point in one's life that you finally accept that parents are people just like you and me. I have crossed that road yet I still don't exactly know where they "fit" in my life. I love them so dearly and so passionately - yet they play endless charades and games. I'm always left guessing what's the purpose of playing games ? Where is the joy in playing chance with people you actually want to care about?

Of course, I hope for better relations as we all get older. Dad still refuses to attend counseling or even mention the word "alcohoholic". I know my story of beating Heroin has been called inspiring to some people - but the only person I wish to be inspired by my strength is my Dad. Granted, he's much less grey and frayed now that I'm better but he will never admit that he is also sick. I've been watching him die for a while now. I still cry fresh tears and I also wonder how this is possible, given the tears already shed.

The best thing going for him ? He's my Dad. My silly, weatherbeaten, broken and loving Father.

I've had to accept they will always be poor as they don't know any different. I used to think it would be up to me, 'the educated one with all this wasted talent' to become rich and famous to look after my Parents. Hey - it's written into my life contract. But why? I'm going to call a family meeting and I'm going to take a copy of this blog. I want everyone present and I'm laying it all out for them to see. I am not the one that has ANYTHING to hide. Then I am going to let them know that this is the past and we need to move forward. I'm sick of playing "God" in the family. I've always been the tired little girl in the big man's shoes. It's time for Dad to make a claim for me - I'm sick and I want my Daddy to care. I am ready to face that he might not be able to. But at least I will know that I tried. At least the pain can finally be dealt with and I can let go of some dreams of my Daddy getting old with me and nursing his grandchildren. Because if my Dad doesn't stop smoking and drinking then he risks dying before he ever gets his first grandchild. It's his choice, his biggest one maybe and I'm not confident he won't screw it up.

It's finally official to me that almost all humans will encounter vain, grasping and manipulating characters who have a inflated sense of status, displaying little regard for others in their lifetime. How sad that these people have been my parents. But it's not everything. I still found the love of my life and he is ten times the man that my Father is. Don't sell out to Daddy replacement syndrome - it's not always true.

My Stepmother and Father are probably the most glorified characters in my life yet I don't know if that sits so well with me anymore. I struggle to place the good memories in a safe spot when the pain stains are so big, almost cancerous to other parts of me that are new and budding. I never kept any bruises or signs of trauma on the outside - but inside me I still hear the screaming. Time has faded most of the marks but you should see the state of my heart. The abuse and manipulation is knitted into a blanket of broken heartstrings, that cover the years of pain underneath. I take a peek underneath the blanket and all I see is monsters.

Living with Dad's drinking was like having a tiger in the house. The whole family was on eggshells and the home just felt dark even when the sun was shining. Most of my childhood, I was too embarassed to have friends over, fearing that all hell would break loose when Dad had a binge weekend. They were the worst.
I always had to monitor Dad's drinking, pouring out rum and cokes since the age of nine for dad's afternoon tea. If I didn't pace him - it would always end in a rough night for everyone. Dad was normally so easy-going when he was tipsy or tired but after the rum - everything we did was wrong. He thought he could hide his drinking from us, from the young kids. We all knew Dad had a drinking problem, before we knew that he was sick. It was the tragedy that was the glue to all the secrets. The stepmother had no idea to help him. She made no attempt to save her children from the Tiger In The House. She loved him and so did we. It was easier to hate each other and hate what life had become. His addiction has robbed him of ever truly knowing his children, all of us are desperately in love with him - but we have no real clue about why he is destroying himself.

We have nothing but tears to explain how he couldn't see what we saw as children - it's really hard to accept he chose his mates and piss over me. Then my sister. Then my brother.
Now it's over and the damage is done. Let the real drinking begin.
Daddy don't die. Stop drinking.

Every single time I see my father he has a drink close by or he is already drunk. I cannot imagine the state of his liver - he has been a heavy drinker since I was born. Sadly, I've watched his mental capacity diminish over the years, his drunken behavior has also started to become more unpredictable. It's not always the same "song and dance anymore".

I remember being in my nightie at night as young as five years old, waiting with my younger siblings in the cramped confines of the car. The Stepmother parked the stationwagon outside the pub, strategically placing the car in the enterance. I looked inside the yellow light of the hotel and saw the animated and flushed face of my Daddy. I felt ashamed. He never has that much fun at home. I started to wonder what was so special about this place that Daddy spent all of his time here. What did it have that I didn't ? Only as an adult, do we find the courage to find the truth.

It was not uncommon to have to sit there for 30 minutes before Dad came staggering out of the hotel. I remember that he always smelt like stale booze but seeing that was all I ever knew , it smelt so good.
Every night we did this, it was my job to run into the hotel and help my Father stagger to the car. I used to feel special when I helped him down the stairs. I felt it was my duty to help my Father get home in one piece. I thought all the other kids did the same thing. The barmaids all looked on and smiled very sadly but the next night they still gave him beer.
It was always his choice.

Other times he would just never come out. In tears, The Stepmother would drive us home and I would stay up all night worrying about my Father. Then the tiger was back and the hair would prickle on my neck as I heard the front door slam and I heard my father bump into the walls and yell for us to all wake up and "do the fucking dishes". Daddy sometimes brought back home a guilty accomplice and a bunch of wilted roses, which Stepmother would hurl into the trash and I would find her fetching them , the very next day. Even though the petals were damaged, she still hoped for the buds to bloom - just like our family.

Us children were often drawn into heated arguments, most of the time I just wanted to be left out of it but I was playing shrink to both parents from the age of seven onwards. I still play referee and I hate it. I agreed with Dad because he was my Dad. I also wanted to be on the Stepmother's side - she already hated me enough and it only made her more bitter towards me if I sided with my Father. I want to love my dad for being a good person I respect - not because he is holds the title. To be honest - he is yet to prove that I know him at all.

When I really think about the time Dad has wasted in bars, instead of taking his little girls to the beach or maybe taking my little brother fishing - I start to realize how grown up we are.
Now I just go on my own and I dream about what never was, but will be with my own children.
For now, it will have to do.

Get well daddy.
I can't wait forever.


Saturday, January 22, 2005


Sorry for my unexplained absence !
I don't actually think anyone noticed/cared/overdosed whilst I was gone so I will slip back into class, reeking of cigarettes with a hickey on my neck and a smug look on my face.

Alas, nothing that rebellious has happened.
I'm a terrible mudda to you all *hug* I haven't been well. Treatment may be stopping. I have had more health complications this week and have ceased treatment (again) This has meant I have had my futon couch surgically attached to my ass. I 've not been outside of it's quilty embrace for more than a 2 min toilet break and to find the remote (which is normally under my ass even though I always say I checked there?)

Maybe watching my new cable channel package whilst overdosing on after dinner mints has something to do with my lack of blogging.
I'm having a torrid affair with my cable connection. I thought it was over when I realised the Movie channel was really as lame as I thought before I never paid twenty dollars on it. As a treat to myself , I upgraded my package so not all the "cool" channels are grey fuzz anymore. I can actually see what people are saying rather than pretend it's Radio Oprah or Guess what movie is playing that your tight-ass will never let you watch!!.

Yes, I'm a strange one. Sex and The City Episodes on every hour on the hour, my new cable channel is a housewife's wet dream. Oprah on demand as well as DR Phil and of course SATC and all those lame shows I cannot admit to watching as my celeb status is yet to rise. It also came with MTV, so I have been "hittin up with yo stylin , bring it to yo cribs and pimpin rides with the blingety bling hoes" of course in Australia no one talks like this. If you did, you would get your head caved in with a very blunt spoon. Although, us "aussies" also have ways of talking so that you have no fucking clue what I am actually trying to say. Case in point ;

Shazza, Aww me bonza sheila ! Be a top missus get your spunky hubbie a coldie from the esky, then pop on your thongs and put some snags on the barbie

Translation for humans outside my homeland

"Sharon, my beautiful lady! Darling wife could you pass your attractive husband a beer from the portable fridge? You might want to wear flip-flops whilst cooking sausages on the barbeque.
Let's do the reverse - I will attempt to try and write like my overseas friends.

Awesome! I am freaking out how amazing this vacation is going to be ! This spring break my buddies from college are going on a SUV road trip, if we pass any hot and dreamy guys we are so totally to wiggle our fannies ;) Neat Booty!
[This conversation may be entirely made-up as I actually do not really have real life friends per se - but I know a lot of "awesome bloggers" that say that I'm cool. Suck it.]

So this is what the same sentence could mean if I was not privy to MTV and blogging.

THIS IS THE MOST COOLEST THING EVER - I am so totally frightened right now about how out of this world this family holiday is going to be. When Spring finishes, my msn contacts from the private girls school are going on a emergency (it sounds medical to me) trip only on the roads. If we pass any hot and dazed and confused men we are 100% going to wriggle our vaginas at them. Organized baby shoe !

This is how I would say this

Yay !Around the September holidays, my mates from uni are gonna head up the coast for some four wheel driving. Should be stacks of fun !If we perve on any hot fellas , I'll be sure to wiggle my ass. Fucking awesome ass, I reckon.

Plus, we both graded/recieved our yellow belts with a green tip ( which is actually just a piece of green tape I can stick on the end - oh the joy) At one point I was sparring with a hot hunky black belt (after two and a half hours of intense training that nearly made me cry) and I started to dry gag. Apart from being mildly disgusted by my face that was red and mottled from wretching, he excused me to sit down for a few heaven sent minutes outside. I wanted to give up so badly. Even BF was mouthing at me to "Sit Down" which was even more appealing for me "Quittus Regularitis".

In addition, the doctors HAD told me that I may have to cut back on the cardio-vascular stuff until my blood is more 'oxygen friendly'. Indulge me if you would be so kind as I try and illustrate (poorly and with a litany of spelling errors).
Seeing I just watched "Too Fast and Furious" on cable (see what I mean about movie channels) If we said our bodies were like cars as I put my respiratory system next to yours - Yours is the Ferrari and Mine is the equivalent of the fat guy falling off the moped half way up a speed bump. Yes, this girl aint what she used to be. As I type this, everything hurts right now. I went outside a had a spew (awesome) and then got back into training but BF is the real hero - he has heatstroke and properly will die sleeping tonight. He is asleep now, he looks so sweet like a little angel that is middle aged and has big bags and a lot of snoring is going on. (no farting though - still no response from Down Under)

If Bf was to pass in his sleep. A girlfriend should know what to do if this happens. Imediately wig out. Cry for ten thousand years and make every song "This is his song". Do all the respectful things. Then "maybe" hack into his msn messenger and find all those hoe's he's hiding. I got a feeling that "hotpinkpantiesonyourbed" is not all about Age Of Empires and playing battleship.

Then I would go and use his expensive razors to shave my moot and I would probably throw around a few of the Big Three. (Piss, Cunt and the "firestarter' You Fuckin Moron)
Just kidding. I would be very sad and lonely and all that jazz. I'm just trying to be funny and in doing so have probably just earned myself a "Dear John" letter, which would normally end with, "Don't blog this letter either, I'd like it private if you didn't mind." We all know what I would do in this situation.
Report the facts darling. I'm a blogger not a gossip!
Moving on from death ( that shows how sleep deprived I am) and back to me, thanks.

All up, after three and a half ( Oh the pain) solid hours of gruelling fighting and running and piggybacking and doing loads of crap that makes everyone sweat blood and bone - I think I passed. I know I was pretty puffed in parts but we shall see. I know I did my best and I didn't quit *so does the Finger to all the quitters - I so rule right now*

Mind you, tomorrow I will have forgotten about my love of fitness and I will resume pestering TIVO to invest in Australia and I *may* not turn up to another four interviews and appointments. The motto is simple kids - If you're just crap at something, just call it. In fact you should really give up and save the agony of other people. It's hard work making you a baked dinner to convince you how really tried at "insert latest fad" but for some reason "mention some airy fairy shit to say here other than you are the laziest son of bitch in the free world" it's just not your time."
For instance, this week I have heard this exact speech from BF when I finally accepted a few "home truths". Ok, so I'm not really ever going to become as skilled ( I think I said better actually) at cooking like Jamie Oliver, I probably would not win Survivor ( what about my hair straightener and what about chocolate !) and I probably left it a little bit late to be Julia McMahon's latest date or even a plastic surgeon. Even though, I do watch all the gory bits in Nip & Tuck and I do think its just like sewing a really raw chicken, I think I might need that thing they call "rich parents and fuckloads of miracles".
Maybe if I was eighteen. I think famous writer can delude me for a few more years yet ;)

BF let me down gently. Even though, I secretly is worried about the price of fame in the relationship. Just look at Jen and Brad or the entire mob of Spice Girls (probably a better quasi comparison). My blog is more famous than them. Oooh.

In my quest to be totally awesome, I'm currently reading Branson's book and yes - I think I would make a fabulous air hostess.
I don't think I am a mogul, it sounds too canine don't you think. Although, I do think Branson is hot - why o why do I love old men. Don't tell anyone.
Especially my Dad's perverted friends from the local pub (Big Red is his name)
Air Hostess. Sigh. Those uniforms are so 'chanel style on a superficial budget" I used to work with many of the Virgin FemBots as worked close to the headquarters - very nice girls that have white teeth, big boobs, buns and sensible shoes.( I only perved from behind.) Unlike men, we do not spend years mastering the "glimpse" of the forbidden white triangle. Don't act all fucking innocent either - the jig is up fellas.

Plus the GIANT red jacket is normally a good clue, that you are behind a FemBot in the lunch line.
Plus they also travel in packs and wear fuckloads of make-up and most have names starting with an S. I think this is a secret plan for Branson to populate the world with attractive fembots that all hate Donald Trump.

Of course, I just keep all this stuff to myself (hey being in a mental home is so 1994)
I normally just cry into my coffee and soggy toast thinking about my own appearance.
I become bitter that although my toothpaste promised "instant" whiteness so many moons ago, my smile is bordering on werewolf or that man at the end of Thriller.

I brush about seven times a day (shutup) so they are not so yellow anymore - just lemony - ewww.
I think that is a great cue to leave and brush my teeth for bed. I'm going to see the dentist about doing something like they do on "Makeover Somethin-Somethin" not veneers - that's only after the book deal. *Mooo Ha Ha Aww Haa Haa * [very werewolf if you ask me] HG

Who is this man - what does my name mean on your site it's in the link bar at the side. Thank you strange visitor - I would say thank you for the link but you probably don't know what the hell I am saying. Maybe you do though - so thank you.

The money is still there and I am just waiting to see if Greg from Cal is donating the prize. Then, we will spend the Paypal on extras for the site. Tag Board, Photo-Album and some nice new sections on Heroinegirl. Thank you to the three gorgeous beings that donated - I am truly grateful and you will see the results very soon. I just need to figure out what I am doing about Heroinegirl - The Brand. As we all know , it's going to be big. That's what I tell myself all the time and I just received a lovely offer from a prominent LA agency in my inbox, which is nice to know that I'm creating some buzz.

Exciting times ahead and we will go together.

From the gutter to the stars,

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Forever seems so long

Just a thought...

Remember I mentioned one of my two best friends before (the one who suggested the dips and chips instead of the wine) well now I will tell you about the other one. Since both of these ladies are very wary of the internet , I can't show you their faces and will have to make up some more silly names.
I just know I will get an email saying "Ewww, why did you call me suellen - it makes me sound fat and spoilt like a Nancy Drew girl" - even though our generation doesn't really know who Nancy Drew is.

"Sophia" has been my best friend since primary school and will probably always be my dearest until we grow grey and tired and finally come to rest, clutching each others wrinkles. My lord - I have put this friendship through its paces (she gets cross if I mention it anymore though as she knows that behaviour is behind me and thinks I need to also stop thinking that) this girl has put her career on the line for me, opened her arms to me and defended me ever since that fateful day in primary school in Grade 5 when she asked me " I wonder what those biscuits taste like?" Of course, we all know this is a hint to offer said treat and I am so glad I did, as that was the start to the most fuffilling and beautiful friendships of all time. At the moment, Sophia is overseas - doing what all mid twenties girls should be doing - fluttering around London looking fabulous and planning a raunchy respite from the cold - Spain I believe? Anyhow, it's been hard being apart. As we get older we start to realise that time is much better spent with those that truly accept us and nurture our sense of spirit. Frankly, at 26 I am leaning towards spending more quality time with those I have history with, and making amends with myself. I pride myself on being a wonderful friend and have always placed human relationships high in my achievements. I'm supported and loved by many fabulous and inspiring people, old and new. But tonight , my sophia is hurting, therefore I am.

She's not coping so well in London and I wish I could be there for her like I promised that I could.
Sophia is gorgeous and full of fun and light and the lack of sun and friends is making her a tad bluey. We all knew this was a risk for the self confessed beach bunny but as her girlfriends we also knew that she would never truly be happy until she went to the UK and did her thing.
(pashing lots of lads with cute accents)

In a strange country she has fallen into a run of bad luck and personal emotional trauma that I wish with all my heart that could've be avoided. I won't go into details because it's not my right to but I wanted to explain it's not just a case of "homesickness". Things have just been 'complicated"

I am hoping that it did not pain her to ask me for assistance becuase I know how wonderful it felt to assist her in any way I could. She is a very proud person and has instilled me with so much knowledge on how to be a respectful friend , that the ink did not have time to dry on the cheque.

I am wiring her a substantial amount of my savings, to get her on her feet again and hopefully rekindle the traveller spark that suits my ray of sunshine so well. I trust her completely and the money was in a term deposit , it won't be immediately missed. I say this not to garner praise or even recognition, I share with you it's meaning. You see, she knows the story of my life, most words appear in duplicate a shared history to shape us and guide us to our successes and ease us through our failures. It's never to late to realise you have not been the best friend lately, maybe you have indeed 'let things slide'. That's up to you to ponder, tonight I dedicate this to Sophia.

She will remind all of us that our friends are so special and to never let them go. They will be the last man standing - not you.
Friends forever ? It's something to believe in...

From Sophia tonight....

Now if Spain is good we can each buy a house there with
our respective partners you the writer slash movie script writer!!
And me
the occassional jet off to do a movie. Or maybe just teaching my own
watersports company. And we can go on picknicks in the country side take
our kids swimming and for gelatti life will be great. With a Seista in the
afternoon (did you know they do this!!) and then exotic foods and wine (for
me) for dinner!! Life can be great it's what you make it. Although that
might be boring for you... but would love to grow old together and have
kids near the same time would be fun!! why not.

I can tell you right now that I'm crying...but this was my reply to her ;


This made me cry...you just described my heaven.
I love you and I miss you so much..
I am right beside you honey - you can do this.
Take my strength and do it with no regrets.

Love you and praying for you (just so it all goes fine - which it will)
She says(kinda jokingly) that I never blog about her and that she can't have a place in my movie of this blog (lol we love to fantasise it's a girl thing) unless I write about her.
Little does she this kind-hearted angel know; she will always play the starring role in my life.
(alongside BF who is on a motorbike looking impossibly hot in the opening credits)

Just think, only thirteen months more of treatment and then USA together !
(We are doing a road trip together or backpacking Europe.) I hope I can still blog. That's key.
Yes, the trip will probably be totally unorganised and will most probably become a comedy of errors, no doubt you will be reading along and plotting tacks on a map and scratching your heads as you realise we are heading in the wrong direction - again. Mistakes happen in life but my friends have only made them easier to forgive , not harder. They are good to me.
They are good for me.

To my readers ...

I look forward to sharing the rest of my life with you, on the blog.
It's all about moving forward and rediscovering beauty , all over again.
Every single day for the rest of my beautiful life.


Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Memoir Deluxe

At 10pm precisely, The Shogun knocked briefly before entering the marble bathroom, making an approving sound whilst he scrutinized my reflection which glittered in the mirror. I turned towards him whilst I fastened a pearl drop earring, so desperate to meet his expectations. I felt so desirable that the bronze powder seemed to tingle on the pales of my inner thighs. I was dripping in precious jewels and the air smelt divine with decadence. My cheekbones could almost cut the silence as I stalked over to him and beyond, never meeting his eyes yet sensing his eyes taking all of my silk inside him.

"Such a beauty - such a lady tonight"
He kissed the top of my hand and my cheeks flamed red, like they always do.

The Madam had spent weeks arranging my debut into the high-bookers and her efforts to transform me from highway hooker to courtesan had to be deemed miraculous at least.
I had a dietican and also a stylist assigned to make me presentable to the "premier clients". Countless appointments to hair salons, manicurists and fashion boutiques had inadvertently made tonight almost a relief to be over and done with. I'd done all the preparation and permitted them to alter anything about my appearance (minus the plastic surgery that was offered as a cherry to get me to stay)

I'd also abstained from using Heroin before the booking, a few valium would keep withdrawals at bay then I could go home and be hit up. I had done a brief refresher in Japanese as the clients required this. Security was tight and I was not given any details of the client or explained his standing in society. I was not alone, a few other girls were also coming along to recline on the lounges like a human selection of glamazon sushi, hoping to be devoured and worshipped for their own unique flavor. I knew that I was the most attractive though, otherwise I wouldn't be here tonight, I would be working at the motel instead.

After The Shogun took his cut from my paypacket, the remaining sum would be enough to provide a week's worth of heroin (at most) for the Ex and I. Still, it was a holiday in my mind. A rare and valuable opportunity to dismount the crazy running wheel that I had somehow been peddling for months now.
I never encouraged promotion of myself for top-end bookings, it required more effort and discipline of me than I was caring to lend. I never took the Art Of Courtesan as something that was my calling, it was merely a means to an end. The idea of spending continual nights with a client is not appealing to me. I like to wake up on my own and not have to deal with "The ArT' before my morning grind.

In most agencies (including this underground one) drugs were not tolerated ( although it did depend on your looks or worth to the Madam) For instance, management knew that I used foundation to conceal my trackmarks and everyone knew that meant you had your drugs prior to work and give it enough time to fade it's effect. They also knew my dependancy on getting money for a hit ensured I was tied to them and would not fail to show to work. In Australia less legal brothels the reasons they oppose junkies working is not entirely health based. It's because we can't be trusted not to steal their clients. It's all about money.

The Agency was a lie within a greater lie, telling the whole world with this double life. I was still a junkie, just in jewels. The fancier things had to be, the more secrets that had to be kept and the more I had to lie.
The bigger clients brought some moral conflict to surface. It was obvious that the price I named for my body and its sexuality was only spare change to a millionaire - I often wonder what I would pay for my body to be left alone if I also had as much money as them? Would I outbid them - definately. I am priceless. Prostitution is not for me because I can never not make this thought run through my mind when they are on top of me. It's a game that is so hard to make sense of and not one I even need to play around with.

Coming from a poor upbringing, it almost seem traitorous to give the "richies" the one thing I had retained for myself. The one thing that I thought they could never have. But they got it - I sold it all and when it was done , so was I. I went back to the Average Joe's and I never regret that for a second. It was an Average Joe that put his feeble career on the line to help me out of the prostitution game , it was never the elite clients I saw.

Reclining into the lush leather recess of the black stretch limousine I admired my new nails, small crescents luminated under a lick of translucent pink now buffed into a perfect oval , it seemed so surreal that I could be so rotten under the polish. My heart was beating so fast I almost felt like the driver would detour to the hospital. Flustered and jittery, I dabbed at perspiration that trickled from my pits with a lace hanky, my breath shallow and shaky. I manage to save it staining the charcoal duchess satin fabric which I wore in a sleeveless, simple yet elegantly designed sheath. Driving into the casino entrance, the neon lights covered the windows with makeshift graffiti that slid off the inky black boot as we dipped into the underground entrance to the Casino. I felt by my side for my gemstone encrusted clutch, tucked it under my arm and smiled as the car door opened. Like a jewel returning to the fold, I reached for the hand that led me, to find my imprint into the velvet case night.

With the muted shades of chandellier dancing across my shoulderblades, I glided across the plush Versace carpet that curled around the hallway to the private elevator. Gold. As far as my watering eyes could see, luminous and towering ornamental structures. In the far distance I could make out the faint strains of a piano competing for soundwaves over the gushing sound of the gigantic waterfall dominating the Hotel Lobby. I felt like everyone was looking at me at whispering that I was the hooker they had seen on the highway, merely five days ago. I pushed this to the back of my mind and resumed my performance as a Courtesan.
I need the money from tonight and I had to believe in myself or they would never buy it either.

For all my modesty was worth, the intense glow from such grand displays of wealth assimulated into an "emotional gold-rush"- a common girl like myself could barely contain her amazement - yet I was required to remain low key to save drawing attention to myself. Flanked by his minders (not mine) I attempted to meet the stockier ones eye and give a warm smile but then realised this was culturally improper. Instead we stared ahead in stony silence as the elevator cruised towards the heavens, the numbers climbing higher as we teleported to the Pleasuredome of a paradise lost.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

some things

I have taekwondo tonight and grading next weekend - aghhhh! I haven't forgotten my sixteen step pattern so I figure that I'm ready (barely) to get the green tip on my yellow belt. If I don't, the BF will be higher rank than me and then he will tear me a new asshole. This cannot happen. I just checked and I can only do six push-ups of the thirty, so I have some serious karate kid montage workouts in the rain to do.

Postmodern and I are having a discussion about a comment I read earlier that said "Postmodern is not a prostitute, she is an escort. She is mature and a higher calibre. "

For the record, I find Olympia to be an articulate and insightful lady, her blog is a daily read for me. Notice how I can compliment without putting down other sex workers ? Anyhow, you can see it all on Postmodern's blog. Lord of Doom, this is the Po Mo I mentioned in comment passing. We are big fans of each other, it's only a stray comment that ruffled my feathers. Olympia has sent me a lovely email lending her support to my health challenges and I believe she is not half as snobby as she thinks she is ! Hee. Hee! I still wonder if she looks like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction.
(sidenote- love charlise's new hair on the Golden Globes)

Darling Maggot (resident pervert) has also asked for a return to some sexy posts - I don't think I have even begun my sexy posts yet ;) But ok, I will kill two birds with one stone and post about a high class booking that I did (I did many) this one stands out as perhaps a no-frills dedication to the high-end market. Usually, I don't post regarding time spent in employ at the Agency as so many other blogs cover the 'glitz and glamour' of the bigwig clients.

Monday, January 17, 2005


Just taking a quick study break and writing down my thoughts on safer sex, the unit I am reading . My parents have never given me a safe sex talk. Safe sex is obviously a personal responsibility, so where did it go wrong for me? How could I have been so ignorant and reckless with not only my health but others? Admittedly, most people don't actually know their STI status and it's not a point of how often you test but rather When was the last time and what have you done since then ?

Healing my life has involved facing my damage. Physical health being one of those areas which screamed out for cure and education. The gift (yes I did say gift) of having a contagious condition is the reconciled knowledge of safety and hygiene. The light switches on.
I also understand the concept of universal responsibility to protect your own health. The shame has become less as I am no longer burdened by the guilt of being infectious ( of course this does not mean I am not exceptionally cautious and mindful of my conditions) I have realized that it is also YOUR choice to always (always) be aware of risks and for you to protect yourself. As some of you know, I am no longer allowed to have BF's child over and this will most probably go to Court. Given that I am testing negative at present, as well as undergoing treatment and I have ceased risk behaviors (including sex work) I'm hoping that we can have his little girl on weekends.

I believed that a little family conference would air everyone's concerns so safety measures can be put in place and everyone is aware of the risks in a language they 100% understand.
But this is still not happening. I feel like I should just let this woman win, if only for Lil Girl's sake.
Even though the Ex wife has calls me diseased scum, I understand her concerns for her child. I have been open and honest and have offered for her to inspect my home and make sure we have first aid materials and separate toothbrush holders. But shouldn't everyone be this careful with Children? Can she even say the same measures are taken in her house?

it has been the only negative outcome of disclosure. We are going to the lawyers again tomorrow and hopefully mediation will be achieved. My worst fear is that she will not have her Daddy - because of me.
That is not worth any relationship, in my eyes. It's been at least three months now and she is showing no signs of letting her visit. Time to let the courts decide - or maybe just give in and move out? Choices ... Sigh.


I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me ?

I hardly ever sweat so when I do, I know that it's extremely humid and disgusting. As I type, I can feel sweat forming on the back of my knees, there is no breeze in the air to cool myself down with ( it must be at least 38 degrees celsisus) Australia is HOT ! Beautiful and spacious and green - but HOT!

This weekend past, I resumed my treatment so I've been at the mercy of some rather inconsistent side effects. In other words, I have become a raving loony again. My treatment interferes with Serotonin -( seeing that most people that read me are some kind of mental then we all know what this means ;) )

I think it will be at least another full week before my body 'hunkers down' and accepts the drugs all over again. Sometimes I feel my spirit is refusing to yield to the strong chemicals, my tests have shown an unnatural instability that no doctor can explain. The mind is a very powerful thing and I have always had a strong grasp on my inner self.

I am considering meditation to will my body to accept the Drugs - but is that fruitless? Is there a scientific explanation to why your body just says "Fuck you, I have had enough!" and then starts rebelling ? Can I unlock this rebellion by thought alone or drown it in even more drugs and affirmations?

What if in time , they show that Interferon causes bone cancer, fertility problems or mental dysfunction? If the sickest I am is now, whilst actually treating the Hep C - then is it really worth all these potentially devastating side effects? Will I wonder why I never listened to my body and let doctor's brush it aside just because it is not heard of?

How many times do I hear "It's just your serotonin" or "It's not you - it's your meds"
Makes me think that maybe my brain and I are not on the same team anymore.
Have I done the wrong thing and sold my spirituality for science?

OoooH it's raining !!! I'm playing Beck - Loser and going to dance in the rain - and make my neighbours really frightened of me (again) I hope Nip & Tuck win in the Golden Globes !!

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Update 2

Well yesterday I was super independent. Rather than rely on BF to drive me to appointments, I was ready to tackle the doctors and specialists on my own. I caught the bus and got out in the sunshine and it felt very good to be out of the house and around other people. There was a very rude bus driver outside the hospital whom when I asked if he was going to my destination, he shut the door on my face as he said "What do I look like - a timetable?" Goodness, it seems public transport is just getting very slack in the customer service department. I would prefer actual robots drive the buses officially, at least they can be programmed to be more helpful and on time, regardless of caffeine intake.
Furthermore, I was given the wrong directions by three drivers (behind the shops love) for the busway, actually 1200 meters away. Slightly wary, I headed off to 'behind the shops' and of course - no busway. Instead, a housing estate. NO signs or paths. Just the fucking Burbs.

Being me (determined and obsessive) I knew it had to be here somewhere so I just started walking and walking and..walking. I was too lazy to go back after 40 meters and then the more I walked the more I had to go forward.

After fifteen minutes of walking in back random streets, it become my Tour Of duty. I found myself crouching on the kerb, straining my ears for the whooshing sound of the bus express way. In my city we have underground tunnels for commuters (this is only two years old) and the buses fly so fast through the stations, it's actually kind of a rush. No, they don't even stop unless you flag them down, so you have five seconds for you to read the title and think - fuck is this me, wave your arms like your flagging an ambulance, and normally its back in the tunnel. It's a little bit daunting if you don't do it all the time and also when there is a bus doing flyby's every 5 seconds. After walking in a huge square, I finally found the station and of course saw two of my buses whooshing beneath the bridge. What added stung to it, was I probably should've waited outside the hospital for the 20 minutes instead of trying to do it "express". I kept thinking about the other people at that same bus stop who were now happily hurtling towards my destination.
So I did arrive late to my disability officer appointment, burnt from the sun and slightly fatigued. I see a disability officer because I have to in order to receive sickness payments from the Government. I brought with me a signed exemption from work from the previous medical appointment but the lady asked/insisted " Did I want to do a two year training course on finding a Job?"
No way ! I mean how hard is it to open a paper, ring a few dudes and put on a nice dress and smile. I don't need two years for that, besides I always find my own work (when I'm ready, hehehe)
In short, I stated very clearly that I have my original job to return to ( I don't know how many forms we got signed to prove this) and my main focus is getting my body well again. It took a lot of documentation and signing of documents to satisfy that I actually was at risk of liver disease and my treatment was impeding upon my work performance. So now I have a twelve month exemption from work - which is comforting and boring all the same. I am going to have to set some serious goals for this time, I'm thinking studying and volunteer work. I was planning on going to UK and now everyone is going on trips overseas but I can't until middle next year. Very fucking annoying.

I received my Liver Function tests back and guess who is HepC negative (normal liver function)
Yes moi ! So that was a welcome boost and I resumed my injection last night and I feel a bit fluey today but nothing serious. My teeth are totally healed and no pain whatsoever ! Best money I ever spent.
I am even going back to get a full clean, and more examinations on a few suspects in the back row.
My sister is still living out of home and The Stepmother has not been in touch since Xmas.
It's really awkward at the moment, I get paranoid that she has found my blog ( I can deal with that) but it's still awkward if she does.
I signed onto my msn this morning and all my contacts have been deleted.
Some cum-rag from the internet cafe (remember at Xmas) signed on as me and deleted and blocked my entire list and changed my name to "DON"T FUCKING LEAVE DETAILS IN E CAFE"
I mean some people do not have a life. Fucking gamer nerds. I'm hoping he won't be back as it links to everything I have - not gmail, but it wouldn't be hard to trace. Basically it must be signing in automatically, so I have to actually go in and uncheck the box.

It always happens to me, last time I went to same cafe , he sent everyone in it an email saying I was coming out as a lesbian and even sent individual emails to the girl ones.
That took ages to explain. I was sure that I signed out this time, but maybe not.
So I have one person on my msn - BF. So if you don't see me on, you can add me.

Ok off to the Coast for a play-date with BF and a swim in the ocean.
I am so white that I am hoping for some color - not lobster red as usual

Have a great weekend :)
Memoir to come later

Friday, January 14, 2005

I need your loving (like the sunshine)

The last day the I ever saw The Ex's face , the wind blew strong scattering raindrops like diamonds against the windowpane. I didn't know it was the last day I would see him but maybe he did, it was beautiful all the same. Sadly his life was over before I ever knew it was time for goodbye. So soon?
Right Now? That's it ? That's it.

I loved everything he was, plus the hope of what we could've been, minus our addiction. Maybe I just made this all up just one day too late but I thought our hearts held first class tickets to the land of happy ever after. Even after his death, I always hope for it to get better, waiting for that one day when it goes back to the way it was, when the joke is on me and I never lost at all. I will wait until forever for nothing possible, just because it's not time to forget you.

Once I am healthy again, maybe our fight could be counted as one of the major triumphs of love and survival?
Regardless of my recovery, it won't bring you back and don't I know it.
It's just never quite the same with me here and you, flying above with the angels, just beyond the castle made of cloud and sparkle.
I close my eyes as I feel something warm trickle down my cheek.
"It's just the rain ..she says.. brushing her tears away."

So much happened before this horrible day. I might add The Ex and I were not together at the time of his death.
We must travel a year prior to this when I met someone else, a client in fact. I met Marcus whilst working in a grubby little motel on the south of town. Marcus was aged in his early thirties, attractive and athletic build, probably attributed to his passion for surfing and a healthy life. When we met, I gathered he was rather shy and awkward in my presence. I filled the gaps in conversation with my own special brand of warmth and ease.

Unfortunately, he was also the type of client that methodically plans the finer details of the booking; the style and texture of my lingerie , the dialogue that we exhange during sex and of course the precise order of events that would comprise his precious thirty minutes of 'ressurection'. Marcus became highly aroused as he spent hours posing me in enticing positions, my legs splayed on the limp and dusty mattress, as he watched my fingers play between my legs. I always found these clients particularly tiresome after a long day working and with the Heroin fading away, so did my patience. I tried to play nice for the majority of my regulars, but it was was only money that made me go back for more. Requests from my clients were rather vanilla; clothes pegs on nipples, peeing, smacking, fantasy scenes, bdsm, high-heels and red toenail polish and stockings and lingerie, almost standard requests in the Game. (Golden Showers less common, more expensive and very hard to do whilst on Heroin as your bladder is supressed) Even though I could tell Marucs was not entirely pleased with my attempts to ignore his gentle probing, he still touched and caressed me, sometimes going so deep inside to find the affection and intimacy that I never know existed.

I noticed something different happened whilst 'entertaining' Marcus - I came.
I hardly ever orgasmed with a client, mainly due to my spacing rather than any client's lack of talent. However, Marcus could manage to make orgasm every time , some times continually. much to my rising indignation. It appeared that I was ripe for a sexual revolution. Being the cool cat that I am, I suspected early that he had developed feelings outside the professional relationship. Blurring the lines between professional and private was always a fear my boyfriend not myself indulged in.
Dating a client was something I was opposed to - almost a personal turn-off. I never thought I could date a client - it just seemed so pathetic and last resort. "What man pays?" I would ask myself.

Well, only some of us know the answer for sure but I digress from my story. I knew I liked him - how?- why I slept with him and did not ask for the money, something I had not done for three years. I found myself creeping around at midnight, meeting Marcus on secret missions to escape to his beachouse where we made hot and passionate sex, gasping in shock as my screams of total ecstasy rose over the crashing waves. Inside my body, I was technicolour and my cheeks blushed from the burden, I never knew I could feel this good. I decided to wait for a while and see how "the relationship' progressed before I told him the whole story - The Heroin, The boyfriend, The Mess.
I'm sure he would understand and love me all the same, maybe even help me escape.
It was a small flicker of hope, the last one left.

When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness; instead keep your head up high and gaze into heaven for that is where your broken heart has been sent to heal.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

on the radio

Underwear Goes Inside The Pants by Lazy Boy

Why is marijuana not legal? Why is marijuana not legal?
It's a natural plant that grows in the dirt.
Do you know what's not natural?
80 year old dudes with hard-ons. That's not natural.
But we got pills for that.
We're dedicating all our medical resources to keeping the old guys erect,
but we're putting people in jail for something that grows in the dirt?

You know we have more prescription drugs now.
Every commercial that comes on TV is a prescription drug ad.
I can't watch TV for four minutes without thinking I have five serious diseases.
Like: "Do you ever wake up tired in the morning?"
Oh my god I have this, write this down. Whatever it is, I have it.
Half the time I don't even know what the commercial is:
People running in fields or flying kites or swimming in the ocean.
I'm like that is the greatest disease ever. How do you get that?
That disease comes with a hot chick and a puppy.

The schools now: It is all about self-esteem in the schools now.
Build the kids' self-esteem, make them feel good about themselves.
If everybody grows up with high self-esteem, who is going to dance in our strip clubs?
What's going to happen to our porno industry?
These women don't just grown on trees.
It takes lots of drunk dads missing dance recitals before you decide to blow a goat on the internet for fifty bucks.
And if that disappears, where does that leave me on a Friday night with my new high speed connection?

Masterminds are another word that comes up all the time.
You keep hearing about these terrorists masterminds that get killed in the middle east.
Terrorists masterminds.
Mastermind is sort of a lofty way to describe what these guys do, don't you think?
They're not masterminds.
"OK, you take bomb, right? And you put in your backpack. And you get on bus and you blow yourself up. Alright?"
"Why do I have to blow myself up? Why can't I just:"
"Who's the fucking mastermind here? Me or you?"

Americans, let's face it: We've been a spoiled country for a long time.
Do you know what the number one health risk in America is?
Obesity. They say we're in the middle of an obesity epidemic.
An epidemic like it is polio. Like we'll be telling our grand kids about it one day.
The Great Obesity Epidemic of 2004.
"How'd you get through it grandpa?"
"Oh, it was horrible Johnny, there was cheesecake and pork chops everywhere."

Nobody knows why were getting fatter? Look at our lifestyle.
I'll sit at a drive thru.
I'll sit there behind fifteen other cars instead of getting up to make the eight foot walk to the totally empty counter.
Everything is mega meal, super sized. Want biggie fries, super sized, want to go large.
You want to have thirty burgers for a nickel you fat mother fucker. There's room in the back. Take it!
Want a 55 gallon drum of Coke with that? It's only three more cents.

Sometimes you have to suffer a little bit in your youth to motivate yourself to succeed in later life.
Do you think if Bill Gates got laid in high school, do you think there'd be a Microsoft?
Of course not.
You got to spend a long time in your own locker with your underwear shoved up your ass before you start to think,
"You'll see. I'm going to take of the world of computers! I'll show them."

We're in one of the richest countries in the world,
but the minimum wage is lower than it was thirty five years ago.
There are homeless people everywhere.
This homeless guy asked me for money the other day.
I was about to give it to him and then I thought he was going to use it on drugs or alcohol.
And then I thought, that's what I'm going to use it on.
Why am I judging this poor bastard.
People love to judge homeless guys. Like if you give them money they're just going to waste it.
Well, he lives in a box, what do you want him to do? Save it up and buy a wall unit?
Take a little run to the store for a throw rug and a CD rack? He's homeless.

I walked behind this guy the other day.
A homeless guy asked him for money.
He looks right at the homeless guy and says why don't you go get a job you bum ?.
People always say that to homeless guys, like it is so easy.
This homeless guy was wearing his underwear outside his pants.
Outside his pants. I'm guessing his resume isn't all up to date.
I'm predicting some problems during the interview process.
I'm pretty sure even McDonalds has a "underwear goes inside the pants" policy.
Not that they enforce it really strictly, but technically I'm sure it is on the books.


Heard this on the radio and just felt I had to find the lyrics and muse.


I survived !

I did it ! I had my root extraction yesterday and I feel wonderful today. I wish I got it done sooner now than have all the toothache pain. I know ! You all told me this !

I am really relieved I won't be living with that constant throbbing pain, I have stitches in my gums and it looks really gross though. Regardless, I'm just glad that I took my head out of the sand and started to deal with the neglect of doing hard drugs - it's harder and scarier than you think. Doctors scare me as I always worry they will find something else wrong with me (and yeah the pain plays a part as well!) but I think I am finally over it. I'm glad I went private, this way I was treated like a person not like a number. Not only was the dental technicial a "superfox" she was very skilled and spoke very softly. There was a lot of tugging but I just closed my eyes. I giggled when the spit vaccuum got caught lip and the needles were not an issue for me at all. Bf held my hand the whole time and drove me home and nursed me back to health. He is very nice, even carrying my pink handbag when I was in shock as I left the surgery. The shock part was the worst, felt very faint when it was all done - but not during.

Now hopefully I can go back on the Interferon tommorow and continue fighting against the Hep C. I am getting a virus count today so I am really hoping it did not return over Xmas. I actually managed to clear the virus from this treatment (which means that I am allowed to do it for a full twelve months fully compensated by the Government.) If the virus has resurfaced, then I will deal with this and try and keep positive. I am more confident since braving the dentist that I do have a say in my bodys health, with constant supervision and attention to my body (like going to check-ups and dealing with health issues) . I start work (part-time) in three weeks and resume study on Monday, so I will be writing Memoirs on the weekend. Work on the second blog has been delayed until I do my chores. Hee Hee. We are up 498 votes - nearly there !