now I have to learn to pout my lips

Today at work I recieved an e-mail from the cute girl from Lick. She asked if I was on Friendster. It was a bit of a reminder. “Oh yeah! Freiiindster…” I don’t know what it is about that community. Something about it is infinitly forgettable.

Ian is on his way over now. The plan is to hopefully fetch him some fishnets. After we’re to pick up Dominique then go off to the photoshoot. There’s a bit of trepidation in this. Nothing much. His site isn’t particularly interesting, but as well the fellow continues asking me to bring lingerie after I’ve stated that I don’t have ANY. (I’m hoping a corset will count) My biggest consolation is that no matter how dull the pictures turn out, there can be nothing worse than the ones from January. It’s like an ace in the hole. The thought of having two people along will likely be nicer than as well than only one like for the last two. This way there’s someone to talk to. *grins* Afterwards, I don’t know what the plan is to be, but I’m sure we’ll think of somehting. We’re imaginative people.

Ah well – off to practice Jezabel.

letter to gavin

Mishka’s over tonight. She’s talking about her boy, Allan. I took her to fetish night a month or two ago and now she’s caught up in him. Seems to be some communication issues though. Her candor is more than hilarious. “He’s not what I expected” “why? what were you expecting? You did find him at fetish night” “I expected him to be an asshole” Now she’s in the other room borrowing my toothbrush.

You’ve been haunting me tonight. The spectre of your thought won’t let me alone. I was accidently off-line for a few hours and now I feel I must have missed you, though there’s no letter. No voice anointed words sweetly waiting to sink into my eyes. Calm, of course, conquers, but I’m feeling a little less gorgeous. *grinning* I know when I meet you, you’re going to be a little bit more than I think you to be because I’m seeming to not even ponder upon it. I catch myself in the mirror and there’s just a moment where you’re there. Tableau as stylized formulated as an old oil triptych. And now with sound, though hollow over distance.

*missing you*