I am so Wet…I Blame it on the Rain!

The Rain Scene in 9 1/2 weeks is…one of the hottest scenes ever filmed.

(click link below to view scene)

9 1/2 weeks sex scene in rain by poisonhart

“Love like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots keeping itself alive.” -Paul Coelho

“I love you because no two snowflakes are alike, and it is possible, if you stand tippy-toe, to walk between the raindrops.” – Nikki Giovanni

“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” – Roger Miller

“The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.” – Sherwood Smith

“If people were rain i was a drizzle and she was a hurricane.” – John Green

“I had gotten so used to the taste of rain that I forgot what the sun tasted like. Bittersweet.” – Anne Patrick

There is just something about the rain…about being wet in general…it’s like slippery sweet sex…(and yes those last two images are me) xxx c.

We Who Seek to Marry Heaven and Hell

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.

The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God.

-The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, William Blake (1793).

As of late, my play-life has taken more of a central role in my life. The pendulum has swung from a research oriented professional focus to more visceral explorations…again. Therefore today, on William Blake’s birthday, it seems fitting for us (ALL of us) to begin to explore that shift a bit further.

Blake is arguably the most important, influential, and provocative poet/visual artist/mystic of the Romantic Age. His work (for me) expresses the duality of human thought and experience through what was the language of the time: religion, politics, and philosophy.

His work sought to explore and breakdown the barriers between such dialectics as:

heaven and hell,

good and evil,

humanity and divinity.

I feel that Blake’s art reflects the work that so many of us continue in our daily lives, all of us who walk the lines between divergent yet inextricably linked concepts. We too explore the junctions and fissures that construct and inspire our life choices…sometimes with the success of insight, other times with great consequence and sacrifice. Still, our exploration continues…like Blake…our understanding is merely the beginning…and expression is the process.

Cheers to those of us who are brave enough to walk the lines….with great curiosity and faith.

(and yes, “explorations” will continue in the following blog entry…this was not a cop-out…ha.)

Xxx

Conchita.

(photo credit to: MLMLME.com for TheVanillaParty)

A Poem: Reliving (You)

Why is it that I relish the time that I am alone

to savor our intimacy,

let it run through my imagination,

allow it to tickle my deepest senses?

Releasing my mind,

I slip into that secret space between

consciousness and un-…

where I can feel your hand sliding

along the curve of my thigh,

taste you neck warming

to my open lips.

These memories enter me as you do,

slowly.

I piece the experience together  like an almost forgotten sensation…

the first time you smelled a rose

and brushed its velvety petals

to your lips,

feeling its caress.

I let my tongue wrap slowly

around my finger,

and feel your tongue.

These sensations fill my fantasies.

The raw energy.

The harsh grip of your hands along my pelvis.

As we begin,

the only barrier is my body’s resistance,

which quickly turns to acceptance.

Images become fluid scenes

that seem to slide

into one moving feeling.

Now, your thrust has a sharp clarity

edging on pain…

deep inside.

The kind of pain

that can only be described as

ecstasy.

These moments, as I lay alone

I am thinking of you, of us…

and more than that…

I am reliving how I love

your touch,

your lips,

your taste,

YOU.

(Conchita, 1994)

*image by shutterbugbourdoir.com for pastease.com

A Goodbye…to Summer

It seems before she came, she went…this summer, as hot as we burned together, her touch is always too fleeting…I hope you had the chance to enjoy a few moments in her golden light. Yes, Winter is coming…with her cold tongue and lashing wind.

Doesn’t sound so bad that way, does it? Oh well, not to me at least! lol…I invite enjoy these last few days of summer, and the lyrical and very well written poem below, xxx c.

 

End of Summer

BY STANLEY KUNITZ

An agitation of the air,

A perturbation of the light

Admonished me the unloved year

Would turn on its hinge that night.

I stood in the disenchanted field

Amid the stubble and the stones,

Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me

The song of my marrow-bones.

Blue poured into summer blue,

A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,

The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew

That part of my life was over.

Already the iron door of the north

Clangs open: birds, leaves, snows

Order their populations forth,

And a cruel wind blows.

(images care of http://www.shutterbugbourdoir.com & http://www.Pastease.com)

For my Friend…on his Birthday.

Gio and I have ben friends more than 20 years now, since we were in our teens. It’s rare that a friendship is both so intimate and so enduring, and I cherish “us” for those qualities and so many more. I could go on and on about the characteristics that qualify great friendship…but I think you know…it’s been said before and anything I might say would only be a reflection of your own experience i am sure. So instead I will offer some words from one of our favorite poets, Pablo Neruda…who we would read aloud to each other late into the night in that tiny colorful apartment on, “5th and B”…Funny how romantic love and sustained friendship (love) share so much in common.

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”  - 100 Love Sonnets

I love you Gio, today, tomorrow and always, your conchita.

The RIGHT Good-Bye…

I have learned…that no matter how much you want a-thing to continue…

to endure the process, the transformation from one type of relationship into another…

often it is just not to be.

Sometimes…wishing one another the-best…and walking away,

with love in your heart, is the best recourse.

I have learned…to say, “Good-bye,”

to you.

xxx c.

(Liechtenstein & Beikman images)

This Weekend: Get Closer to Your Higher (or Lower) Power…Just DANCE!

I praise the dance,

for it frees people from the heaviness of matter

and binds the isolated to community.

I praise the dance, which demands everything:

health and a clear spirit and a buoyant soul.

Dance is a transformation of space, of time, of people,

who are in constant danger of becoming all brain,

will, or feeling.

Dancing demands a whole person,

one who is firmly anchored in the center of his life,

who is not obsessed by lust for people and things

and the demon of isolation in his own ego.

Dancing demands a freed person,

one who vibrates with the equipoise of all his powers.

I praise the dance.

O man, learn to dance,

or else the angels in heaven will not know

what to do with you.

-St. Augustine

Leave it to a Catholic saint, considered one of the church’s greatest thinkers of all times, to hail dancing as a form of salute to our higher power…more accurately even…to declare our very existence.

It’s a nice thought…but somehow it seems when I take a turn on the dance floor, I am calling to a darker power…

Still, no matter how your motives, dancing is expression it it’s most primal…and as such, perhaps our purest vehicle of communication.

With that…may you dance through your weekend…whether you call to the god above, or the one below…just dance!

xxx

c.

Walking Away…Never Gets You Far

Heart

It is difficult to let go.

Our moments burned into memory

that once fluttered through consciousness,

soft as butterfly wings,

now burn

like a hot poker.

- Conchita

(OUR) Wild Night!

This Saturday was one to remember…yes, it was a WILD NIGHT: we celebrated, we danced, we partied, we laughed, we kissed, we gave lap dances, we sang, we drank, we talked, we shared…but more than that: WE LOVED ONE ANOTHER…and that is the memory I (we) can hold on to FOREVER! Cheers to Wild Nights! xxx c.

Wild nights! Wild nights! 
Were I with thee, 
Wild nights should be 
Our luxury!

Futile the winds 
To a heart in port, 
Done with the compass, 
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden! 
Ah! the sea! 
Might I but moor 
To-night in thee!

-Emily Dickinson

Enchained (A Poem)

My only surrender

will be to the pain

that bores and twists its way

through sinue.

Your touch, would only reveal the vibrations of my unseen torment.

I am my own prison.

My sentence reflects the crimes 

that weigh on my soul.

This is why I will not, will not move.

I will stand.

I will stay.

I will fight the battle, not to win,

not to free my soul

but to remain.

My will is not to be free.

For freedom is not purity,

it is the opposite.

And that is unimaginable.

I will be…forever.

-conchita.