once again
my inadequacy shows
say too much
say too little
love too strong
and let go too quickly
my desire consumes me
my compassion conrolls me
in the end
i am left feeling
when all i want to be i numb

It was just for a moment
A chill ran up my back
To the nape of my neck
And it embraced me firmly.

The music played
The lyrics spoke of friends
And a kitchen
And dancing

And for a brief moment
I felt it

I remembered

I remembered how it feels to be satisfied

For a brief moment
I remembered happiness
And how it fees to be content

And then,
Like everything else in my life
The moment passed

I cant remember it all but I remember a few things
they were all there
all the young people
all around me
i was suppose to be the leader
and then i realized i wasn't
i was just one of them

we went for a drink
the adults
but i didn't drink

and then i came home
and washed the tub
and i was naked
and they came back
they came to the door
and I hid
but only for a little while
because it was beautiful outside
and the sun was shining

so i got dressed
at least i had clothing on when i got there
we sat, all of us, near the ravine that lead to a river
I propped my back up against a tree
too early for it to provide any shade
but the sun felt good on my face

the boats were coming in
one man on a boat was talking about replacing windows
his boat went down the river

and then it happened

there was shade
in a moment
the apple blossom tree bloomed
it bloomed over my head
it bloomed all around me
i was now it its shadow
and although i noticed it was cooler
i didnt seem to mind
because it was so fragrant
the canopy of white and pink and lil' red specks
and the sun barely passed through the leaves
but when it did
it sparkeled on my skin

and I looked up
and looked out from under
and i said to a faceless colleague
please take my picture
it happened so fast
capture it for me please
for this too may pass

take may picture so i can remember
capture this moment forever
freeze me here
its too beautiful and too mercaulius

and it was
because i awoke to my waiting world
and isnt spring
not here
not yet
but last night
i dreamed
and the tree was in color
and everything else was black and white
and i never dream in color
except for last night

If it weren't for lust I don't think life would be worth living

Passion and lust are about the only things that keep me going anymore
And why shouldn't they?
Why shouldn't I live my life filled with passion

They tell me its not right
I'm no longer a child
You hear it over and over again

and yes I lust
i lust over what i can have
and i take it
i lust over what i can not have
and burn
and obsess
and sometimes i move on...
at least for a while
and other times...
I grin in the middle of the day just to think of the object of my desire

I wish i had more time to allow it to comsueme me
i think i would be better at everything if i lived in lust and passion
but the world is so afraid of emotion
they want notheing to do with it
no me
i will live in the extreem and see where it takes me
If I crash I can at least say i lived

The Gift Part II

I have tried to write this at least a half dozen times
I have been thinking about this for months
Scattered notes are in my journal regarding this
I want to be honest about everything
I want to purge, to confess
I've done nothing wrong-- I feel, I live, I am human
I know those who are mentioned here will never find this post
And if they do, they too would admit it is all true
So please don't judge me too harshly as I share with you the most intimate gift I ever received.

Have you ever seen "Mr. Holland's Opus?" Do you remember Rowena? I have a Rowena in my life. Rowena is my muse. Rowena and I have a connection --- sensual but never sexual. I could tell you how beautiful and inspiring my Rowena is, but it really doesn't matter in the grand scope of things. Everyone has their own Rowena.

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I have been going to The Alley to shop since I was about 15 years old. This was the place before hot topics, before there was emo. This is the place that not many kids dared to go into. This is the place that you could like Metallic or Depec Mode or Motorhead or the Sex Pistols or Romons--- well you get my point! I mean, Hot Topics didn’t even exist back then!

The Alley is a mixture of fashion, music and art-- very emo and dark and just my idea of a good time.

We walked into The Alley as a family. The first thing I noticed, other than the blond androgen being with 50 face piercings, was the shirt that said "I have the pussy so I make the rules". Classic. I would have bought it but I can’t wear it to a school or business meeting or anything--but when I go back... I will buy it!!!

I walked around the store and commented on almost every item. I could buy out the store-- I love it all. The Gothic and suggestive fashions, the body jewelry, the concert tees, the buttons and patches and boots and art---- OH MY GOD!!!! This store is so me, even after 20 years.

Rowena had been staying with us for about 2 1/2 months at this point. Taking him to the Alley was a big deal. This place was really a part of my growing up. It was in the big city, plus, the fact that it was in "boys’ town" let him know we were okay with his sexuality.

My birthday was just around the corner. I have to admit I was excited and disappointed all at the same time. We had arranged an over night stay at one of the local museums with a bunch of young people. Not the way I planned to spend my b-day. I was actually more looking for someone to chaperon me-- but alas it was not to be


As the time approached, our house guest, who was all of 17, got rather-- um well let's just say he smiled a lot. I knew he had something up his sleeve for my birthday. I did question him and he said in no uncertain terms that he had a surprise for me. He wouldn’t t tell me what-- but that it was good. I could tell by his evil grin something was not what it seemed.

The next day, my husband calls and tells me he won’t be home directly after work. He is on a mission for my birthday. I told him it was not necessary to go to any big deal for my birthday.

Our guest has a very specific gift he wants to get you. I told him I would pick it up. Very strange. You see the Hubby always seemed a bit jealous of Rowena, so for him to go out of his was and make a trip to pick up something for him... it was all so odd. The two men sharing secrets about me. I wish I could fully convey to you the feeling that went through me as all this was happening.

I was scared, sacred to think that they would bond together more so that I had bonded with either of them. I was exited, exited to think that they were working together for a common goal. And this was my birthday gift and I do so love to be suprised. But it all seemed too much. The undertone of every conversation oozed with emotion and lust and passion you could feel it we all could feel it and yet we all just giggled about it.

My birthday hit at midnight at the museum. We laughed and joked and my guest informed me my gift would need to wait until we arrived back home. It would be too uncomfortable to give it to me in public.
I knew at that moment what he got me
I knew where my husband went
I was amazed

When we were at the alley, I was admiring the whips. I thought no one noticed. There were several there, whips and riding crops. I was alone in that room-- or so I thought. The young man must have seen my smile as I examined each item. He must have watched how I touched them. Even as I think back to standing there surround by the leather and "gear" I wouldn’t have noticed if a bomb when off. I was in the Alley with the whips and the hand cuffs and I was smiling and warm and in my old world, my own world.

He must have seen me
He must have felt it
I can’t believe he asked my husband to get it for him-- for me
Is he naive?
No he's not
Is my husband that open minded?
He must be



It is sick and twisted and soooo hot to think these men would give me such a gift. The two men I love the most worked together this past year, so I cold receive an incredibly personal gift.

A very special gift from someone who barley knows me, but understands me more that I care to believe.
A gift of understand and respect from my husband, who can accept me for the sensual woman and I am, and allow me to be me.

I haven’t "used" it. But almost every day, once everyone has gone their separate ways I look at, hold it, admire the leather and work on the handle to break it in a bit.

My body burns to think I am this understood.
Most people spend their whole lives hoping some one will "get them"
Many people are never accepted for who they really are
Some people are lucky enough to find one person who understands them
I am lucky enough to have two
And a new whip
And memories to last a lifetime.

The Gifts... Part I

"I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs." -- RENT

Yes, that was me. When I was 15 years old, I received two very special gifts, my first whip, and my first set of cuffs.

Karl gave me the cuffs, at least I think they were from him. Many of the guys begged me to take theirs, but I liked Karl, so I took his. They weren't real cuffs, but they weren't the silly ones with fur. These were modified cuffs, modified just for me. You see, the safety switch on the side was filed down, almost flush with the edge of the shackle. With that little modification it was hard to tell that they weren't military or police issued. I wore the handcuffs on my right wrist. Occasionally, they would get in the way during drafting class or welding, or electric shop, so I had to put them on the front loops of my Levi jeans, just off to the right side.

Steve gave me the bull whip. It was beautiful. The whip was used, but lovingly cared for. The grip was wood and flawless. As a matter of fact the handle showed almost no ware compared to the brown, braided, 8 foot-thong. When I received the whip, the cracker was very warn. I told myself I would replace it, but I never did.

As I recall, Steve wanted to make sure I had a whip with a wooden handle, so that I could "mark it off" as one would a bed post. I never did such a thing. More often than not I could be seen wearing the whip. I would wrap it several times around my waist. I had a 24 inch waist at the time, so a good portion of the whip would still hang down my thigh. When I walked, the wooden handle would hit my thigh... ahh I remember it soooo well.

As I think back, the interesting thing was I had not slept with either of these young men-- as one may think when reading this.

These gifts were not just about my sexuality. They were about who I was and I how I was perceived by my friends. I had a fascination with control. I wanted it all-- like a perfect dominatrix, and then other times I wanted to be totally submissive.

This was true in every aspect of my life--- my sexuality was just starting to develop-- but the gifts were just outward symbols of the power struggle that went on inside of me as a teenager. Funny, today I still struggle with my place. How much control? Total? None at all? In between is still the hardest for me.

I remember being a very intimidating figure in the halls of my high school because of this apparel. Leather jacket, thigh high black suede boots, Levi jeans, a whip and hand cuffs. Today, you couldn't walk into a school dressed like that.

I remember my sheet metal shop teacher looking at the boys (who ran away from me)and saying "In 20 years, you'll wish for a girl like Mouse.

So here we are 20-some years later. The handcuffs are hanging from a reading lamp in the living room. The high-schoolers' needed them for a prop. I was the only one who had some with out fur. The kids thought they were real, because they didn't see the quick release lever.

The whip... ahhh... the whip is a whole other story.