Well I managed to stay online (on dial-up) more than I thought I would be able to for the last two weeks, but as I prepare to wing my way to a tropical location I can assure you all of two things:

1. I won't be online until the 11th of Jan, and I am looking forward to being unplugged and away from the digital world for a while.
2. I will return. And with stories to astound, amaze and further tease all my readers: CB, Steph and Meghan. ~grin~

But I do have to ask: what is it with the current Sydney fashion trend for girls to wear short-short black shorts and ultra high heels...is porn-chic the new fashion "in"? Why wasn't I told? I am not against the "look" perse, (I am all for the heels ~grin~) but everyone was doing it, and alot of them really shouldn't have been. Some people really do need to look in the mirror before they go out.

So until I return to further tease and have my offers of dinner rejected or ignored: "Be careful out there."

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:01 5 comment(s)

I have a confession: I like to watch.

And before your mind goes scurrying away into a dark place thinking I have revealed some voyeuristic joy, allow me to shed light on your flight of fancy. I am not talking about anything sexual, though I do admit the sight of a woman pleasuring herself does hold a certain erotic attraction. Instead I am talking about the hunting through the reaches of the Net, like a thief I pry through key-holes, partially open doors and enjoy the fragments I get to see of the lives that take my fancy. I am a lurker, an online voyeur too many of your exhibitionist tendencies. For isn’t that what Blogging is: the virtual dance between voyeur and exhibitionist each trying to find satisfaction in stolen glimpses and teasing looks.

We all take the fragments we glimpse online and from those few shards we attempt to rebuild the pot, like an archaeologist we try to piece together a complete picture from the few revealing looks that we have been privy too. And during it all we wonder about what lies beyond the keys on the keyboard that creates the world we hunt. Stalking through the online maze we seek to know more, we think we know more, we extrapolate key-hole images with implied and inferred reasoning and from it draw pictures of the author.

But what we often do is dream, caught up in the heady rush of emotion, we of the online world look for clues in the virtual, to satiate our lack of the real. We create fantasies, like the exhibitionist and the voyeur, to ease our day, to make it all seem lighter and to help us realize we are not so alone. I stalk the web, for there is a strange pleasure in watching the living of another’s life, there is a simple joy in reading about the happenings of their day and the inner workings of their mind. There is a strange compulsion to see revealed the dark places, that in real life remain in shadow but here are given to the light. Here people can be who they truly want to be, and they’ll let you watch…

…and I like to watch…Don’t you?

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:30 12 comment(s)

Had this in draft for awhile, Steph's photo inspired me to post it...

Gently stroking, my fingers danced patterns across the gently muscled expanse of skin, from the top of the low riding lace line that marked her thong to the swell perfectly rising below her breasts, my fingers played a slow game of chase, my mouth showering small kisses across her tummy in a “cat and mouse” game with my fingers, that occasionally dipped to stroke along thighs and over hips. The gentle rise and fall and the pressing, arching of back as my mouth would dip closer to the lace…the begging heave of breasts as I teased along the underside, only to turn south to play across the muscled expanse before me. Following the curves as hips flare into abdomen and rise gently over ribs, and down the center, muscles tense as quiet gasps tell me she is getting tired of this kind of play, slow kisses, gentle bites and trailing fingers tracing, playing, leading a game…whether lying in bed or kneeling before a woman, kissing the tanned soft skin, playing over an area that holds all that would grow with the creation of life…gently dipping following the muscle line down towards her lace covered center, gentle kisses trailing towards her rising hips and leading to where she is begging to be kissed.

There is something strangely tantalizing about the midriff of a woman, something that hints at choice and offers each man his Rubicon, does one head south, or continue to play in the upper reaches, there is something very erotic about current fashions, the midriff bare, that means as you hold her close, deep in embrace, mouths entwined, your hands are free to play along the expanse of muscle, to trace patterns on her hips and gently dance along the line that her clothes create.

To kiss along such a line is doubly so.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

A throw away comment in an e-mail from a friend: “…did you hear, B is divorced and living up the street from me…” I hadn’t heard, and the moment I read the passage I had to wonder whether I was going to end up wishing I still hadn’t heard.

B.

Swedish American…
…and while your over active imaginations digest all you can conjure up to suit that particular stereotype, I will burst the bubble only a bit to say that it was all true: she was the fittest woman I have ever known, gently muscled curves, small, yet ohhhh so sensitive breasts and a tight tummy, that just begged to be kissed…she was/is my first love. The first woman that with mature eyes, and not those infatuated with a pussy, that I really looked upon and could see myself with forever, she was the first woman who with hindsight I can say I was “truly in love with”, and I guess for a time she was also in love with me. But fate often makes a mockery of our hopes and dreams…as it has been said “fate is also not without a sense of irony”.

Do I still think about her?

I think all guys think about there ex’s, the ones that got away, that you wonder “what if”, that you look back with speculating eyes and wonder, not all the time, but every once in a while you run a cross an old memory and think of them with a smile…apt to happen more oft when you are single and lamenting the fact or in those quiet moments after a tension filled fight with a current loved one. I think in these moments ALL men think about “if’s” and love lost.

Me. I am prone to think of her more when I have no-one else to think about, when there is no one in my radar to occupy both my time and imagination…or when I am skiing in some distant country enjoying the rush of wind and the sssshhhh of my ski’s carving two perfect lines down a virgin bowl, I can’t help but think of her and the passion for it she left me. I can’t help but think of her…

I never wished her ill…ok there was that one time, when I turned over a CD and found a note, never before read that she had hidden there, when images of her collided with regret and anger and I wished her harm…but in truth I wished, I wish her happiness, I wished her well…I think as a measure of “real” love, the way in which you part, though bitter sweet, tells much to the quality of the two. Knowing she is now divorced does not sit well for me, it will mean more imaginary visits from her in the dead of night, as my mind is freed just before I sleep, and it only reminds me that I am currently alone, when the ghosts of the past are the ones that give…dare I say a comfort…before sleep takes me. And it means somewhere in this world someone I cared for deeply, and would say still do though in a different light, is in pain and is hurting, someone has made choices, painful choices to correct a situation...and while I cannot be there to offer solace, she will remain in my prayers.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 08:00 6 comment(s)

There are two perfect lines in all of creation, two gentle curving arcs that defy evolution and point to the hand of a master craftsman.

The first follows a slow descending line, starting just below a woman’s ear and following the muscle of her neck to where to slows, curves outward and joins the slightly muscled rise of her shoulder before again descending down her upper arm…on every woman this curve is slightly different but just as intoxicating, the gentle tanned curve, smooth as only a woman’s skin is, soft for the same reason…and as you kiss along this trail…well…mmmm

The second is not found in a woman’s standing form, but is created in her lying side…the curve from which all curves are compared, the rising line from her thigh, the outside line that lifts over her hip before dipping to her waist…a gentle rise and fall, yet each line a perfect arc, joining the next with a symmetry not found elsewhere…the softness and line begging to be traced to be gently stroked, to be held while you mouth searches for hers…

Two perfect lines, both worthy of admiration and the time of touch, kisses and providing lingering visual pleasure.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 09:00 5 comment(s)

So as I head home for a much needed break and some R & R with the family I just wanted to take this moment to let you know I will not be gone for good, I will return. But in the next few weeks I will be dead-tree blogging, first poolside in Sydney and then from under a palm tree on a small island while enjoying a foofy cocktail or two served by nubile locals with a smile and scant clothing.

Which is to say posts will be scattered for the near future, but I am enjoying this space too much to leave it untended for too long. So I wish my three readers a very Merry Christmas and I hope a safe and not completely sober or chaste New Year.

Steph: the offer of an "innocent" dinner still stands. ~wink~
CB: I would be happy to go perving with you ~grin~

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 6 comment(s)

Being on holiday with friend’s means lots of drinking and lots of those deep conversations about the important things in life…it also means lots of potential Blog material. One of those topics was “going down” and while it was discussed I couldn’t help but smile in the memory of not so long ago when someone said:


Now of course she didn’t want to really know where I learnt, just that I had and that she was now on the receiving end. What she was asking was how I got into her mind so easily; how I was inside her head and knowing just what she wanted?

So here is Indiana’s guide to being a cunning linguist. There are only three rules, since I don’t plan to give a blow by blow (or should that be kiss by lick) description:

1. Listen. It is without a doubt the most important thing you can learn, listen with not only your ears, but with everything….as Virgin Slut says her pussy has a lot to say but asks how many men really listen.
2. Don’t give head to get head. Do it because you want to please her, if you don’t enjoy it, then she won’t be able to relax, and if she can’t relax, she won’t cum…it’s that simple. All women are worried they look strange, smell funny and taste bad (they never do)…just like you worry you’re too small, so reassure her, show her you enjoy it, and there is nothing you’d rather be doing…actually it really helps if this is true.
3. Know where her clit is…it’s in the same place on every woman. Now you know where it is, leave it alone, it’s like dessert after a great meal, there is plenty to taste and touch first, before you dive in. (However remember Rule 1. If she gives directions…listen) it’s amazing to me how many of my female friends say men have no idea where the clit is…here is a picture to help those in need of education.(nws)

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 07:00 6 comment(s)

Reading Kiss and Blog, Midwest asked whether she should clear the underbrush, and while commenting I remembered a friend putting down her thoughts about it a few years ago. So from a friend…

Ok - so here's how it went. After suitably tickling the fancy of one very sexily accentuated Australian, I finally decided I should put my money where my mouth is and get the beaver buffed. Removing every single hair on the vagina is not one most women shun for reasons of pain alone. It also tends to bring back those teenage years a little too much - and no self respecting 30 plus year old would EVER - and I mean EVER - want to be a teenager again!
However - I have had a Brazilian before and like the smoothness of the touch of that virgin skin. It’s so smooth and clean and WHITE!!!! The biggest problem I found (which I hope not too many clean skinned pre pubescent girls find) is that it hurts when the guys with a little bit of stubble go down on you. It’s like getting stubble rash on your chin after a heavy pash session in the back of the ute except its 'down there'.

But anyway - I took the plunge and went off to the salon for an hour of torture.

Now, I must admit that my maintenance levels have been a little shabby of late due to problems at home on the romance front and because I’ve been working my butt off to get a job. Some things just have to lapse - so there was a small amount of bushland taking root down there. Imagine, g-string off, legs splayed across the vinyl work bench - waxist poised with surgical precision --- OUCH!!!! Not just once – but many, many times. Imagine getting the hair on your chest waxed but its not on your chest - yup, it’s a little bit painful.

So - after nearly 40 hours - I am still a bit tender - chicken breast would probably aptly describe it but women will do anything to please a man - even if its just the suggestion of the thing!

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 14:00 8 comment(s)

Not too long ago on msn, and simply because sometimes no matter how dumb the questions, you just have to know. . .

Indiana says: Am I actually any good?
She says: yes.
She says: YES.
She says: YES, YES, YES....
She says: but then, my memory is poor. You may have to refresh it...

Scores. Ego stroke and offfer for hook-up in one.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 08:30 0 comment(s)

Or in my case the reason I am single is ME.

And I say this because if I look back at my past failed relationships (i.e.: all of them.) with a brutally honest eye then the only logical conclusion I can come up with is that I am the only thing they had in common. If I look at the kaleidoscope of women from different spaces on the spectrum (and even rungs on the ladder) that have spent both time and emotional energy on and with me, I must conclude that my single status today has more to do with me than it has to do with any of them.

So why?

Currently some media-wanna-be has coined the phrase “Quirkyalone” to give validation to one’s state of singleness. It has much to do with being, choosy, picky and not willing to date for the sake of dating, or sacrifice any of yourself or the “miracle” you imagine romantic love would be…me I think that’s a crap explanation for two reasons: one, Quirky and two, Alone. Says it all really. If your alone, and lets face it that’s why you are lamenting such, then have the guts to admit you don’t want to be, and if the reason is you, dig deeper into that pit called honesty and admit that you are the reason your not sharing your life with someone more meaningful than a cat.

And while I don’t have a cat, and would never own a cat, I will admit that I am looking for someone to share the ups and downs of life with.

We invent all manner of salves to heal a “broken heart” but the truth is often a mirror away, and anyone who ever said “he didn’t deserve me” or “I can do better”, unless in a relationship founded on abuse, really needs to take off the tickets and have a long hard and very honestly cold look at what they bring to the table, because put simply, “realistic expectations” might be the mantra one needs. It’s a fine thing to not sell yourself short, but to set your eye’s too high means you end up falling on your arse…think Ladder Theory, there is more truth their than we care to admit.

And I like nearly everyone has been guilty of this. Some of it is media perpetuated, I have been lied to by Hollywood and like a lamb to the slaughter I have followed along with it…but a good part of it also has to do with the quality of women whom shackled, even if only for a time, their hearts to mine…they were, and I assume remain amazing women, whom I was fortunate to know, and stupidly naïvely let go. The last bit has to do with simple attraction: a certain type of woman, from her dress sense, to her somatotype to her sense of confidence attracts me…and that will never change.

So while I could offer excuses for my relationship status, and throw out those pithy comments used by all and sundry to salve not a broken heart, but rather a bruised pride and wounded ego, the truth is simple I am single because in my past I have loved some very amazing women badly, and the reverse also holds true. It’s no good me sugar coating it to myself, and looking for “excuses” that include “if” and “or” the truth is as simple as knowing that I can’t change another but I can change myself…and in love that means bending for the other, not because they bend for you, it is not about conditions, but rather because that’s just what you do, that’s what love means…we forget that if you have the courage to give your heart tongue and speak of love then with that comes responsibility and obligation.

The battle within me will be taking that wisdom into the dawn, and using it to shape my tomorrow.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 3 comment(s)

When she said "yes", my first reaction was surprise, quickly followed secondly and thirdly, by “I get to kiss her again”, and, “I get to spend New Years with someone I really care about, cool!”

Over a year ago, one of my best friends and I chose paths would put us on opposite sides of the Pacific, which at the time was a cause for some angst, since we were dating each other at the time…so we broke up. A very simple statement that in no-way can reflect the difficulty and sometimes hurtful comments and barbs we fired as we both went through the adjustment to being "just friends". And it was an adjustment. One that we weren’t always good at, we drew our boundaries and then broke them nearly every chance we got…which was a good way of saying that the feelings we had for each other were too deep, and we were still too close, not get closer…so we did…lingering breakfasts, late night bottles of wine, romantic getaways and travel to tropical locations. She was fun to travel with, we traveled well and it was easy being with someone I liked.

So we flirted with the line for 6 months, which is to say we kept dating but knew we had a 'used by' date, then after a final farewell spent on an island off Thailand, we went our own ways. Utilizing the great advances in technology we stay in regular and friendly contact, to which they say time and distance are great healers, they also say that nothing gets you over the last one like the next one…and while I haven’t completely explored all options I have had plenty of time and space. We have become simply, best friends, and I am very at peace with this.

Best friends that if I am honest are untested after this time, especially if one removed the distance, which is where the “yes” came in…deciding to travel over New Year, to take myself off for a tropical respite I was lamenting the “alone factor” that plagued much of my travel before her, so I invited her. I offered the airline fares to enjoy some sunshine and relaxation with me…she had her reservations…I can’t say I blame her, her choices of a year ago limited her current finances, while mine…let’s just say hadn’t…and in most languages and in most situations a guy doesn’t spring for airline tickets around the world unless he has certain…ummm...expectations. And of these she was worried.

And she should be, because I do.

I expect to have a great time, I expect to be able to have her dress up and for us to go out for swanky dinners, I expect to have good conversations, I expect to send her for spa treatments, I expect for us to go dancing, I expect for us to not make promises about a future together we have no intention of honouring, I expect for our friendship to continue beyond the holiday and for us to stay in touch, I expect for us to remain true to each other and not lie about tomorrow, I expect for us to laugh and joke and enjoy each others company, and I expect that she and I will kiss, especially at midnight on New Years Eve.

The rest that you would call expectations, I think of as hopes.

Both without significant partners and therefore only having to consider selves, we have never been good at boundaries, and...well...she did say “yes”.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

For me a date begins and ends with one simple premise: possibilities.

It’s not about conditions, it’s not about limits, it’s about chance, it’s about discovery, it’s about chemistry and being nervous, it’s about questions and answers, it’s about putting on a good front, dressing well and remembering the manners your mother taught you, it’s about decisions, it’s about fun, it’s about laughs, it’s about sharing and observing, sometimes, if the desire, pheromones and chemistry is right it’s about ‘jumping each others bones” and breakfast in bed, and IF, and only IF the possibilities look good, then it’s about arranging to see each other again.

Any social outing without possibilities isn’t a date; it’s “hanging out”, with food.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

My mind whirled as I thought of the implications of the weekends riots at Cronulla, I examined the racial aspect, as many did and will continue to do so…I looked at the tribal rivalry that exists between the “Surfies” and the “Westies”, but what struck me most wasn’t the racially driven violence, for if our history has shown us one thing it is that Australians, all Australians are more than capable of such narrow minded bigotry…it was more the idea that one group, those from the coast, felt they have the right to impede others enjoyment of the sand and the surf.

And I know wave-rage is not new, nor is surf culture and sub-cultural groups trying to defend their turf, but what is ironic to the point to ludicrous proportions is that one group not only took it upon itself to prevent access to the sand and surf, but that other moron Yobbo’s decided to side with them and indulge in what amounts to a media encouraged alcohol fueled bender.

---

For as long as I can remember, a few weeks before the end of school and the coming of the fat man in a red suit meant one thing: the beach. The fortnightly family pilgrimage to the “the Gong” is one of those indelible memories of youth, the sand, the flies, the sticky sand grit coated fish and chips, and those bludging Seagulls so accurately portrayed in “Finding Nemo” for there cries of “mine, mine, mine”, the sunburn, the Surfies, the red and yellow flags are all part of the fabric of my early years…they are part of my culture. And I dare say if you grew up in Australia anytime during or after the 60’s these memories or one’s like them are also yours.

The concept of a Sea change, retiring to the coast, living by the beach, is as Australian as “Meat Pies, Kangaroos and Holden Cars”, it is part of what makes the summer swelter of December and January worth it, it is something as kids we waited for, the Saturday morning wake up, the pestering of Dad, in the hope that he had forgotten what shits my brothers and I had been in the car the weekend before and would take us again…he usually did, because in truth Mum and Dad loved the beach as much as we did. It was something Australians just did, you went the beach you had a Barbie, Dad slept in the shade and the kids got sun burnt.

It was repeated week in, week out, all over Australia. It still is, yet apparently on a number of Southern Sydney Beaches the desire to experience, even for the briefest of times a Sea change is now un-Australian. With cries of “assimilate you bastards”, the Yobbo’s of Sydney descended on Cronulla to drive out those who were doing the exact thing they were being targeted for…being Australian and adopting the summer migration to the Beach.

---

So basically what happened is that one group of Australians went to public place, got really drunk, then had a punch up brawl with another group of Australians who were doing exactly the same thing…and in the middle were the cops.

Sounds like footy games at the SCG when they still had "the hill". And I can’t really think of anything more Australian and sadder than that.

---

But after the weekend, I think I still have a good idea what it means to be Australian, but to be an Australian Male, I have to now admit, the definition I had always stood by obviously needs revision, or there are less men at home than I thought.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 2 comment(s)

When you date someone for a while, they become a big part of your life, but more than that they become a spectre that haunts your world…they are the intangible memory that places its touch not just on the time spent, but the places traveled and the adventures experienced.

A weekend spent in the company of friends in a city not my own recalls memories of our first meeting, our first foray into travel together, and for me it was the first time I took stock and really looked at her with those eyes. And while the seasons have turned, that city and her and now indelibly inked on my psyche…and that for some reason bothers me.

I think the reason is that I finished the weekend feeling empty; feeling somehow unfulfilled, like the person I wished to be with wasn’t there, the person I wished to walk along streets and remember with was a shadow, a wispy memory. This bothers me, since I think of time we spent somewhere else, somewhere I am soon to return too, and I worry that she will haunt my return there, that everywhere I turn I will see her and find myself confronted by memories that, while I don’t wish to forget, I don’t also know if I am ready to see so soon, and so closely on the heels of our parting.

As I type this, I have sent her an e-mail trying with my poor grasp of language to tell her how I feel, and what I dream. I have no idea how she will respond, I have no idea what revelations a week from now will bring, but I do know that my feelings for her are still strong, they are still too complete for me to let go, I am not ready to move on, and yet with time I am…yet the memories of her dancing at the edge of my recall are too vivid and I still feel too much.

So what do you do when a person not only haunts your dreams, your mind but also your memories? When ordering a coffee you look around expecting to order for her, how do you not only let go of a person, but the haunting shadows, the essence of them that belongs in everything she has touched, worn, or brought you in love…

I think the right question would be: How do you fall out of love?

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 3 comment(s)

I guess like all men I have gazed with the glasses of infatuation at an object of recent desire. I’m not talking about those colored amber from the sweet taste of thirst quenching ale, but rather the heart thumping rush that poets refer to as rose tinted. I have had crushes, and once (ok more than once, but it’s been a long time since), I have even placed women on a pedestal of my own making that in truth they did not deserve.

But it has been a while.

These days I am more realistic in my appraisal, I am still quick to find fault, to judge and to ultimately reject on the flimsiest of reasons. Yet today I am able to see people for who they are; warts and all, I am able to make my assessments and able to see beyond some of the flaws, some of the less wise decisions of the past, I think I am able to see the real person. And yes I do still reject based on my flimsy reasons, because like all people I have my list, and as shallow as it may be, it is mine and I desire to be true to it.

I reject people who say they are non-judgmental, that they assess individuals based on there own merits and would date anyone…this is a bullshit statement, we all have our list, and whether you have formalized it into a diary entry, or have that mental checklist of “red flags” and warning signs, you, like me, has a list. And like most men, in this day and age of political correctness my list would be deemed “shallow” by the masses…for this I don’t care.

Yes, “looks” are on my list and yes they are highly placed, not quite at the top but they are close. I mean why would I want to spend the rest of my life with a woman I am not attracted too, regardless of how modern or sensitive that makes me…personally I think to be with someone who I didn’t find attractive would make me a frikkin idiot.

So as I gaze, with very honest appraisal upon a friend, whom I wish would be so much more, I do so with honesty and openness, for she has never lied to me, even as painful as some truths are, she has been nothing but honest. She has shared secrets with me that were previously the reserve of just her girlfriends in her desire to be transparent and nothing but honest. Does this sometimes hurt, damn straight it does, but the honesty, the openness, is refreshingly attractive and adds to her appeal.
It may be that the chance I had with this friend is passed and living in separate countries certainly adds to that dimension. Would I walk through a ring of fire to be with her…you can count on it, will I get the opportunity to really show her how I feel…sadly probably not.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 3 comment(s)

I would love to be able to say with 100% conviction: self. But the truth, like it usually is, doesn’t fall within such defined boundaries and as is the norm is coloured with shades of reasons more than those deemed: simple. I Blog for me, yet I Blog with a stat counter, I have comments turned on, and feedback is the affirmation or condemnation of my writings, and I like you seek ratification through how I touch others, or how they share with me similar steps along the road we know as our lives.

It is strangely comforting to know that there truly is nothing new under the sun, and that there are few places that man has not trod before, nor obstacles that have not been faced and overcome. IF Blogging has one advantage over the older method of pen and leather covered journal it is that the anonymous sharing lets us realise that we are never truly alone, and there are oft times many who really do know how we feel, for they have walked the same path yesterday, just like the many that will walk it tomorrow.

It is all about the sharing. Firstly with self, for there is something tangible about words. The careful setting of thoughts to pen gives them more meaning than the drifting thoughts of mind, they clarify, they order, they even provide for regret and more importantly hope. Then the sharing reaches others and we are united not by standards set by years of commercial advertising and societal expectations but rather by the same words that give us direction. We do not judge on the narrowest of criteria that we use everyday rather we are brought together by shared experiences.

Steph suggested that words never dry up, but they do. I have Blogged wearing a different hat and carrying a different whip and at times found the urge and drive waned as more pressing and “real” events crowded my days. I know writers suffer the dreaded “block” and find that no matter how moving the sunset, how lingeringly wonderful the kiss, words can flee as we try to grasp them and like smoke avoid being caught only to disappear and with them the moment too is lost.

If I enter this room with a concern it is not that my words will dry up, or for a time that I may lose them, for they always return. It is rather that while they are absent I do not revert to the inane or the infantile and seek to entertain with the flimsiest of Blog fodder those readers for whom I begin to see much of myself and much shared in common experiences and dreams. Above all I wish to take to heart the advice of Polonius to his son Laertes and “to thine own self be true”.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 3 comment(s)

What is not to like about them?

Sure they may be painful. Yes I concede they probably make walking hard, not to mention dancing, and I will concur that many a feminist will rally at them for making “women slaves to men’s ideals of sexy attire”, but the truth is: I don’t care, while I am a confirmed “whore for comfort”, a woman will never impress me by dressing in “comfortable clothes”, not to mention the sheer “ogle” factor of heels can’t be denied…they are kryptonite to even the supermen amoungst us.

Don’t believe me watch the eyes of all men in a room as they follow the nice legs in the sexy heels as the click-click by. Include a pair of stockings, a garter belt and perch it all on a pair of high heels and for most men, me definitely included, you have a walking fantasy on legs. The power of this is more so if you know she has dressed that way for you.

Maybe it’s the ‘porn star’ appeal we all recall from stolen glances at our Dad’s Mayfair stash. Maybe, like me, it was Ms. Zelinski, my HS English teacher (major crush), and her black 4" pumps that made English Lit. much more fun than it deserved, or it ever was later on. Maybe it’s the gentle shift in balance that appeals to some subconscious sense; maybe it’s the tilt and thrust, the muscled tension of calves and thighs. Truth is, I don’t really know or pretend to understand the male fascination or mine with them. But I do know this:

Heels are hot.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:05 5 comment(s)

As I said in the beginning: I, at least for a little while, have been lurking the online halls, like a hunter stalking prey, I have been a digital thief stealing glimpses into the lives of those who write about such. Not long ago a HK Blogger asked the question of those who haunted her halls, I didn’t answer; I was a lurker, not one who gave voice to thoughts or one who dared to pen the imagined responses to what I read. I drew back into the shadows, and continued to watch, still I was tempted and the temptation remained, and now with my own offerings being put up I guess I have.

Still I am cautious about making connections, letting people know of my…place…I rather like the quiet, it’s just me and the pixels on the screen. But still, maybe I have lurked enough, maybe it is time to not only enter the rooms made by others, but to give voice to thoughts and then maybe in time invite them to enter mine.

I also wonder at the “how”, how is it that one seeks to keep writing, to find the things within one’s soul that you would be willing to bare and lay on this altar called the Web. Some demons surely are better left hidden, kept chained within one’s mind rather than set free, unfettered and unrestricted in all they touch. How is it that one finds the material that one deems suitable, does one fall to inane and “infantile” subject matter, if this is to be the new millenniums literary form, is it to be classed as “literature” or is it to take rank with titles deemed “popular fiction”?

And having stepped into the room, how fast do I make my presence known? How quickly do I set my tongue free from the shackles of restraint and rally at the diatribe that I read and in turn will, in all likelihood merely contribute too?

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 5 comment(s)

I’m not a big fan of this meme thing, I think for the simple reason that it removes the control I have over what I reveal, and the fear is that I might reveal something that is too telling to my identity behind the hat and whip. But Steph asked me too, so for a short while only and just for her...

What did you do in 2005 that you hadn't done before?
Remained great friends with a woman I had loved, and made love too. (Twice)

Did anyone close to you give birth?
Nope.

Did anyone close to you die?
Also Nope. So I guess there is a karmic balance thing happening.

Did you travel? Where did you go? Best holiday memory?
Yes, I live the life of an ex-pat so I travel all the time. Australia, Thailand (twice), The Phillippines (twice), Singpaore, Korea, Japan and Indonesia.

Best thing you bought?
Lingerie for a lover.

Where did most of your money go?
Making my life more comfortable and chasing my dreams.

What do you wish you had done more of?
Made love to the woman I cared about

What do you wish you had done less of?
Fought over trivial insecurities with the woman I cared about.

What kept you sane?
Friends and diving

What drove you mad?
Being attracted to selfish women.

What made you celebrate?
Lying in the arms of someone I care about deeply, both of us snuggling in post coital bliss and realizing that she would never really be mine the way I would desire her to be, and having the epiphany that sudden realization that I was at peace with that, and the fact that geographically we would go our separate ways but remain friends.

What made you sad?
Exactly the same thing as 11.

How was your birthday this year?
Spent at 30,000 feet in a plane flying to Bangkok, drinking G&T’s with a great mate, where I not only got the new job I wanted, but met a woman who has since become one of my best friends.

What political issue stirred you the most this year?
The 2 minutes silence observed in the Queensland Parliament when Van Nuygen, a convicted drug trafficker met a fate he was willing to gamble against for money.

Where you in love in 2005?
Abso-fucking-lutely.

What would you like to have in 2006 that you didn't have this year?
A great partner who is serious about looking into and planning for tomorrow, together.

What date from 2005 will be etched in your memory and why?
January 16, I realised that my friend J was truly amazing and that she wasn’t a fair weather friend who would dump our friendship when a new guy came along, I realised that she and I would be friends forever.

What song will remind you of 2005?
Live like you were dying – Tim McGraw

Compared to this time last year are you happier?
No.

Biggest achievement this year?
Taking a new position in Singapore

Biggest disappointment this year?
Leaving friends to take a new position in Singpaore

What is the one thing that would have made you more satisfied?
More Sex and more time spent diving.

Best new person you met this year?
Too many great people have entered my life in what is a year of transition for me to reduce this to just one.

A valuable life lesson you learnt this year?
That N and I were/are much better friends than lovers and that to have continued to fight for a relationship more than friends would have only ended in heartbreak, regrets and anger…so I guess the big lesson I learnt was that relationships can end well, they don’t all have to end with regret, pain and anger…and that pain tempered by the shared knowledge of a thing unsuitability is not really pain but more often honest relief.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 12:15 2 comment(s)

I would basically like to believe that most people are honest, and I truly believe they are, however I also believe that most people wish to be accepted, and the need for acceptance for the affirming connection that comes from other people is such that true honesty is hidden beneath a veneer of respectability and need for group identity.

Sometimes people will rationalise a lie with the self delusion of sparing the feelings of another, but the truth is that most people do this in order to protect the image they have in the eyes and mind of the other person. Lies beget more lies, an endless circle where reality is denied and refused a place.

Now it would be great to stand upon my digital soap-box and say that I have never lied, but then it would be a lie. I have lied just as everyone has. It could even be argued that this Blog in itself is a lie, albeit a partial lie, which is kind of ironic, since a lie can never be half a lie, it is by it’s very nature untruth and therefore a lie…But this Blog is my portrait of Dorian Gray, it is an incomplete portrait of the man behind it, picturing just what I want you to see, it is doctored and painted with colours of my choosing and with my brushes. It shows the image I wish to let the world see, which may or may not be at odds with the real me if we were to meet?

Which makes me wonder what happens when Bloggers meet, if they do? Is disappointment the over riding emotion that clouds these meetings as reality and digital perception collide and are found at odds. I have to wonder if people who on this medium so fire our imaginations would appear as tantalising and fascinating in real life…would we fear being becoming Blog fodder?

And what if they didn’t like us as much in the flesh?

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:30 5 comment(s)

I guess the first step in self realization is realizing that you actually have a self to realise and more so that the self you have needs to be treasured and valued, ironically by yourself first and foremost. For if your heart cannot rely on you to protect it, can it ever have the courage to fly free and chase it’s desires…it is the safe refuge of home that makes great dreams possible, the knowing that the task no matter how difficult and the road no matter how long is done with a view of bringing something back.

I think this is the nature of all adventure, to go forth and to bring something back, and whether this thing is intangible, whether it is the mere memory of something great, or whether it has the substance of solidity or even of flesh, it is the bringing home that makes the journey worth the effort.

An adventure without a home to return to is not an adventure it is a tragedy.

In my larval stages it was ok for the adventure to be a sole undertaking, left to my whims and fancies I ventured where I would, trekking the globe and taking from it what I could, possibly leaving nothing with momentary fragments of my memory existing as the lone snapshot to my passing…and while I enjoyed the adventures, I know that I now want to share them, I want to explore more of this world but I no longer want it to be at my sole longing…I want it to be with an other, and by that I mean a significant other.

There are only so many sunsets over tropical vistas and sunrises over the wonders of civilizations that can truly be experienced by an audience of one, before they loose there lustre. There comes a moment in life, a different moment for all of us, that adventures need to be shared…

…and perhaps, just perhaps the acknowledgment of that moment will pave the road to my biggest adventure of all.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 09:30 2 comment(s)

Slowly, perhaps too much so, the rented space that is mine is being transformed from a place to “my place” a distinction that although only 2 letters larger as I type it, for me it will make all the difference in my space. After eight years walk-a-bout, my wanderlust is still not close to being satiated and I have no immediate plans to return to the antipodean paradise that marked my youth and left its imprint so visibly on the man most people see before them.

But home is no longer an easy word to define, not now and not in my future…is home the property I have resting on the edge of the GBR, is it the bricks/mortar and memories of the family home where my parents enjoy their retirements, but I now feel I have out-grown, or is it that world city that I most identify as way of a pithy comment to those who really know nothing of down-under, but want to know where I am from.

I think one of the first realizations I made about the concept of home was when I started my life as an expat nomad, I found myself falling for a girl from Colorado, the implication of course, if it had worked, was where we would call home…and with this came the understanding that the likelihood of dating someone from home would be unlikely, and if I insisted on it, then it would only be a further barrier to relationship success.

So I accepted that for me home would become a transient thing, maybe defined by where “my things” were stored, where I slept, cooked and sought refuge from the world…my home would be the place I identified as my fortress of solitude, as my cave. And I think therein lies my difficulty with the concept of home, for me and the path I have chosen it is about “I”, and while this is a not by choice situation rather more that of failed affairs of the heart, I think that until there is a “we” to supplant and enhance the “I” no place can ever really be a home.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:05 2 comment(s)

I had planned, as much as anyone can to keep this focused on me, to not get distracted by events on the periphery or people of note on the sidelines, but the truth is no person exists as an island, and the movement of people in and out of our lives is what touches and gives colour to the life we lead.

And in this I am no different.

An incredibly lazy weekend spent in the chaste company of one of my best friends was just what we both needed. The ease of conversation, laughs and no hidden agenda meant that I got to somewhat spoil her in her newly pregnant state, and as she contemplates a new year of many changes we both spent time recalling the recent past and how different the life you plan is often the one you live.

For me, the failures of my most recent relationships has left me a little jaded, and the company of a woman I both respect and have no secrets from was a reminder that not all people are of the same mould and that there are those worth time and effort…a reminder I was in sore need of and that reminded me of past regrets, not that she and I aren’t more, for that road would never have been an easy traverse rather it is simply that as she left I was reminded of how the absence of such friends has left a void in my life, that I am not at ease with and have no intention of embracing, instead my lot is to get out and explore…

…life and the infinite possibilities.

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 0 comment(s)