{Strands}

I cannot begin to tell you how shocked I am. Here, your courageous anti-hero chugs along, surviving through losing his job, establishing what looks like the beginning of a reproductive family, and computer crashes, he gets hits in the wallet. Like Al Capone, the collection agencies have started going after me. All because the new loan holder is ass backwards in making forms available.

Silver lining though, it the new place I am working is helping with the increase in pay, ways to possibly change to permanent full employee status, and opening their doors to see if they can help me out of this financial situation. I do my best to respond like one of my characters would, with genuine gratitude, but I am skeptical. I do not believe I am awake. This could very well be a very odd dream resulting from bad pizza.

I think I have stagnated long enough. It would be really nice if I got to work again. I have a few ideas and sone people to talk to. Maybe soon I will have more to show

From my earliest memories I pull out a single dream I had in the summer of 1992. I think I had finished reading HF Saint’s Invisible Man and went to sleep with a feeling of accomplishment for finishing my first 300+ page novel.

I was in an amusement park, being handed a balloon by a monochrome clown when my mother and dad came by. She took me by the hand while he handed me a corndog and we walked toward the flume ride. I was too short at the time, so I watched her purse and his jacket while they waited on line. As they moved forward, they grew younger and I got bigger. I started to complain that I was big enough now, but no one listened. No, that’s not right. I would wave my hands for attention and people would look at me, but seemed to both see through me and off of me at the same time. I then noticed that my voice had changed. Not deeper. The words I was saying didn’t make sense in the order I said them, and some of the words were just not even applicable.

Then it happened. An it that was both unexpected and, to this day, still makes my mind skitter a little bit.

A woman dressed in an evening gown saunters toward the bench I sat on. She had one of those dresses Jessica Rabbit wore. Joining her from the side came a muscular man but not bulky, wearing a suite made out of netting. It made his muscles look tensed and contrasted with his skin mesmerizingly. The continued to walk toward me as I protested having to wait. Closer and closer they came until they ere mere feet away when they stopped. She looked at him, he looked at her and tore off his shirt by flexing his chest. He took her hand and pulled her forward, talking through me. As they passed behind my body, I think my mind was pulled with them because I floated above my childlike frame, or what was supposed to be me. In my shape was a melting mirror that seemed to be fading away.

My parents, wet from the ride, came by and took up their stuff from around my dripping body and left. No one paid attention or even marked that I was there. It was like I didn’t even matter.

What frightens me and gives me nightmares is knowing that there is a possibility that when I am done, voluntarily or no, there will be no sign I existed other than a wet stain someone has to clean up.

I have been going through my picture archives and found the artist reference posture pictures of the Asian volunteer models and it got me thinking. I was able to find not only the white American equivalent, but several sites that offer pose references of various model types. I am sad that there were no bondage related reference models.

So, guess what?

I would like to collect a series of high res pictures of men and women in various poses and angles while bound, especially suspended.

I am not normally a clothes whore, but I do like what I like and have been told that when I am concentrating, I have a good eye. That being said, I have noticed that my fanciful tastes in costumes for shoots, barring budgetary concerns, revolve around complicated garb that is a sort of bondage in itself.

Megan Fox on set of her new movie

To this, I add the picture to the left of Megan Fox. She is in a corset and skirt, spread open at the front, like most whores when the West was to be won. The layers and accessories compell my fantasies to walking into a saloon and seeing a smiliarly dressed woman lounging against a wooden bench, sweating in the summer heat. I would approach and she, adjusting her cleavage, would becon me to her favors instead of another. A few coins of pure gold and I would have her first bent over the foot of the bend for appetizers and then truss her up like a prize calf before indulging in the main course.

What if I had the money for the costume and setting, I would post it on Model Mayhem.

The fine people over at Suicide Girls have done a tribute to Fight Club, one of my favorite movies, that they are offering free to the public. I mention it because it is beautifully shot and inspires me.

The set can be found at this link.

I created several things I would call Stupid Web Tricks which I have posted now to my site. If you are interested in seeing them, take a look here.

Jay Wiseman came into the TES talking on his phone and I was dumbstruck. I mean, he was here and breathing and dragging a bag of books. I did my job as BOD and totally fanboy’d out, whipping out my copy of Erotic Bondage Handbook for him to sign.

I haven’t even opened it to see what he wrote.

Watching him is like seeing Jesus speak for Christians.

Boring little update to WordPress that makes the backend all shiney.

Re-up’d my existing galleries and starting to streamline my editing process… Will have the queue cleared out eventually. The new edits should be slightly larger and branded by my copyright without the sample stamp…

More changes to come.