Stream of Consciousness

I enjoy the stream of consciousness I get; I want; I need when I blog. Sounds like the beinning to another one of my addictions, doesn't it? For me, blogging offers a fun writing break from the arduous task of writing about smut related topics. Whew.

What? You think writing pornographic prose isn't arduous?

Okay, you got me there.

Let me start over; let me rephrase: When I'm blogging, little puffs of white smoke aren't suddenly trying to escape from any of the uh, wait a second; let me count: 2, 4, 5, 6&7. Yeah, seven. Seven open holes in my head; circling above my head; whispering SOS signals to the writing Gods above: Please help her. Send her the perfect adjective, adverb; slip it into her fried-egg brain to help her describe, describe, describe that line, that paragraph, or that character's thoughts that she's working on.

On the other end of the spectrum, when I'm composing a story; something that the Big Dog editors will be reading; someone like Rachel Kramer Bussel, or Alison Tyler, well, then I'm striving to find the perfect prose, you see. This week, as I took a time out from working on a story, and blogged my thoughts to you, I also jumped over to my daily bread; my daily worship; my fucking hot, cup of java and logged onto Alison Tyler's blog.

As always, I found cool and interesting stuff over there, and I learned that sometimes the Big Dog's that work in the world of smut might occassionally need to take a break from some of their more serious fiction writing details too.

Why do I know this you ask? Am I mentally telepathic, you're wondering?

No, silly. This week, Alison Tyler mentioned me in one of her blog titles. Yeah. Little me, that lives way over here in the N.E. section of the midwest; transplanted from the wild, wild west; where AT lives. Ironic, isn't?

Anyway, because you tune into this blog, I wanted to share the Neve Black comments that I'd posted on her blog with you:

This is from Neve Black's comment yesterday: sequestered in my house with a lusty, and much younger, hot man with a cock and tongue that's aimed to please. We take sucky-fucky breaks only for things like, food, water and batteries.

And for some reason, the cadence of that line stuck with me all afternoon, like a little song lyric playing endlessly in my head. Reminded me of one of my favorite stories in Naughty or Nice, which is bizarre, because there is nothing in the story that is like this sentence. The story is Dominic Santi's Mulled Wine—all right, so there is sucky-fucky in this story, and there is a hot man with a cock and tongue... but the big difference is that there are two hot men, and peppermint sticks, and mulled wine, and the piece is just so incredibly dirty that I am fanning myself right now simply on recall.

BTW: The panties above, shown in a size six; our called The Stream of Consciousness. Love it.

Ciao

NB