For Auld Lang Syne, whatever the heck that means.
2017 is over.
Breaking up with Wildcard has led to a unique amount of closure because it was so non-adversarial. I like to think it was even heathy, if painful. The longer apart I am from him, the more I find myself appreciating him as a person and the resentment I was starting to accumulate abating.
It’s been less productive than I’d like these last few months, but I suppose I have also enjoyed a certain degree of relaxation. I would write, but I don’t necessarily feel the appropriate level of simultaneous distance and investment to churn something out.
I both need to have perspective if I talk about Brick (or anyone), because of a certain degree of shielding I do, but also passion enough to fuel something readable. I don’t just traipse in and hammer out every feeling in my head here, because while I’m fairly comfortable with my own vulnerability, leaving a legacy of rambling for other people is something that takes more scrupulous behaviour.
For example if I talk in the moment about how monstrously filled with all consuming desire I am, and resultingly how hard an LDR is, in the moment, the whining will be sincere, but in a public blog leave a particular impression. It is not a good sign when your post launches a flurry of supportive private messages unless it is an actual crisis.
I am doing Vanilla writing outside this blog, but my relationship with the erotic is complicated because I have worked out the uncomfortable truth that part of my behaviour is powered by seeking and having a muse, and talking about the slice-of-life sexuality that makes for my best posts, outside of the angry funny ones.
I am so fucking PISSED at the Montreal BDSM scene, that collapsed into nurturing abusive people. Urban Dungeon found a new sponsor and a new name (Le Triskelion), carrying on post rebranding with none the wiser and a fresh batch of victims.
A bunch of people who should know better claim that he has mad amends, and everyone is too attached to having limited venue space to care about the noxious reputation attached. I regret that I can’t stop this trend of actively self harming behaviour, but the whole thing being foul and rotten to the core makes me simply not want to invest much into it.
Although probably getting doxxed by my so called allies is pretty up there in terms of why Montreal needs a break from Miss Pearl. There’s a certain point when people don’t fundementally respect you as a person you can’t help them.
That’s not to say all is lost- I hear amazing things from Tension. A nice, clean, safe rope space- if only shibari was one of my fetishes! Opale cleaned up and gave HK the boot. But “The Center” and “Le Triskelion” being the babies of people I consider horrible, and the other games in town being mostly oriented around Rope, I am giving stuff a pass.
I’m also planning to move to Vancouver in February. Prepare, I am coming. >:)
I get two kinds of letters as a result of this blog, people trying to hire me for domination services and people appreciating that I put this out there. The latter people make my day (month, really), while the former make me facepalm. If you like the stuff I write, give me money. I love money. But understand I have no business being a professional dominant. The extent I can dabble in sex work is demanding decriminalization, being an ally and writing porn. I’m not a cam girl, findom, etc…
In less than a week Brick visits Montreal. Tuesday he ends up in my large but under furnished apartment. This is going to be interesting.
I have two feelings- the mere thought of his arrival causes instant rampant arousal. Then I get kind of nervous, somehow feeling it won’t be enough, etc, etc… Not much I can do other than trust that it’s good for both of us to get some in person time where I am not all set to shine like I was in our last flesh-meeting.
I love him, but I also am aware that this is very new, and that I am gambling a lot on an emotional connection. So next week is about transcending that. being me, real and mundane.