Disgrace
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| Groupies... Sleep is essential for creative people like Dutch. |
The discussion keeps coming up again and again. Why are professional DJ's so expensive? Because they can, some at least. Others don't want to work that often and quote astronomical fees. Especially for Back to the Eighties parties. Yikes! And you know what, it works. Inbox empty. Maybe you think it's absurd DJ's get paid a lot of money but it's their job is to entertain hundreds of people at once.
Errhm...
Librarians in popular culture part 3
Last time we learned how to spot a fake librarian. Leather is the answer. Today we have another puzzle. Is this lady a librarian, school teacher or something else. Like a failed gardener for instance. Just look at that dead plant to the left. All the leaves have gone. A little bit of water every now and then would have helped.
Don't think she is a librarian, the books in the background are nothing but wallpaper. She's probably no teacher either. Apart from the fact there is just one desk, which is so elitist, what teacher has to write herself a reminder on the door not to come late again.
So neither a librarian or a teacher. Nor is she a gardener. What is she then? My guess is that she works as a physical therapist, helping old people learn how to walk again with the help of a cane. Correct me if I'm wrong.
Librarians and the power of reading
It's the inside that counts [yes, that goes for books too. D'oh]
Total depravity in pink
Corrupt and conquer those Vanilla's
Barbie loves the colour pink. No spoilers so far. In case you haven't seen the movie, do it. It's highly enjoyable. Still no spoilers but be careful, from here on there will be spoilers, like the fact Ryan Gosling plays Ken. After all some girls prefer blondes.
We last met Barbie when Philomena Cunk interviewed queen Patricia, formerly of the Other World Kingdom. Forget the OWK, forget the Kendom, what I wanna know is what the world Barbie lives in is called. It's either Barbie World or World of Barbie. There's also an outsize chance its name is Pinkalonia but I really hope not. Anyway it's a weird place. Barbie's house has no walls, she drinks coffee but she doesn't [cup is empty] and all her friends are called Barbie too. And Barbie wakes up happy every single morning, which given the outlandish use of the colour pink, is hard to believe. Oh and all the Ken's are called called. Yes Ryan Gosling too. The only unique character is Allen, Ken's buddy. Must be a tough life to be the only non-Ken male in Barbie World. Also rather odd but each Barbie has her own Ken. Imagine me getting lost at the annual mistress-slave convention and looking for My mistress. How far do you think shouting 'mistress, mistress' wil get me? Barbylonia is a complete mystery to me. Don't worry both Barbie and Ken [all of them] are equally clueless. And that's not all they're clueless about.
And a cane
The story you are about to read is true. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent. [And the lady you see in today's image is so not of my former secondary school teacher, Mrs. Hayek.]
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| Yes, that's teach, mistress Hayek |
Most lads had to take the entrance exame multiple times, not me. Guess the teachers immediately understood what made me stand out. Looking back I am terribly proud of what my secondary school did for me. It was a long, harsh journey - but one that made me the man I am today. Back then I felt different. If you're a rebellious teenager, everything is stupid. Especially the alphabet and boobs. Don't worry by the time I was 14 I'd grown over my dislike of books. Funny how that happened. Once my interest in books spiked, my grades began to suffer. My secondary school prided itself on preparing us for elite universities. No-one was left behind. Something which is hard for a 15-year old boy who has developed a sudden crush on books and refuses to study. Desperate times, desperate measures, which is why they brought in a special needs teacher. It only made things worse. In fact, it corrupted me for life. Mrs Hayek's teaching methods are also the reason you're reading this blog now.
Bye bye simple skirt
Now that's what I call a Leather Goddess!
After two posts on librarians [and more to come] you probably figured Dutch likes to read. My default go to is Vogue, especially in a language I don't master. French for instance. Don't get your hopes us, even though I know how books work - they have pages inside, or so I've been told - I'm not gonna study French anytime soon. Japanese, yes. The Iberian languages are pretty cool too. For some reason when my friend visited Rio de Janeiro, the cashier at the local supermarket began bombarding him with questions in Portugese. Apparently Brazilian Portugese is different from Portugese as spoken in Portugal or Angola. Not that he speaks any of it. Twist of fate.
It's the leather that gives her away
Librarians in popular culture part 2
Yes it's summer and what is everybody doing? Reading books of course. Next to the swimming pool, at the beach, on the plane, the list goes on and on. But did you know there are fake librarians amongst us, women more interested in disciplining you than advising you on the most enjoyable books to read? That's what the world has come to. But how to spot them? Tough one, agreed.
'That's mistress Librarian to you young man!'
Librarians in popular culture part 1
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| Don't judge. |
Remember the image of librarian by day, dominatrix by night? Of course you do. So what do you think of it, does it make sense? And don't say yes and no, because that's what I'm about to argue.
At it's most basic who we are is more or less constant across time and place, meaning if you're a guy and have dominant personality, you'll forcefully look for ways to surrender to the woman of your dreams if that's your thing. The dark days were your sexuality defined who you are - or should be - are long behind us. If only.
So why can someone not be a librarian, dominatrix, mother who has a love-hate relationship with baking cookes cookies [but not with the kids] and an adventurer at the same time. Stop typecasting everybody. It's nonsense. Just be careful with lady librarians who read books about shibari bondage.
Librarians and the power of reading
It's the inside that counts [yes, that goes for books too. D'oh]
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| Mistress Saint Lawrence engaging in some outdoor fun. |
Dark dungeons are definitely my thing. So is sunshine. Wrote this a while back on a Sunday with the sun shining. Selling sunset is not. Wondering if your next house is big enough for that dungeon upgrade is so first world misery. I don't even have a dungeon at home. Mostly because I'm single and it's impossible to tie myself up. Even if I could, what's the point?
Thank goodness for that
What else is the point?
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| Her joy sucks me in every single time. Not only devoted to her craft but awesome too. And overwhelming beyond perfection. [Please pray for me that I can resist being honest and add to it saying just how hot mistress looks. Even from behind my keyboard I'm in enough trouble as it is already.] |
The whole age thing has not only corrupted relationships and society but worse also proper femdom. Gone are the old days where mistress and slave instinctively understood the essence of forging a connection. As soon as the internet was born, flirtatatious [fake] [fin]doms [real ones] took over. Since when is [lack of] age an indicator of personal gravity, let alone the ability to click between two people?
Keti Koti is Surinam for Broken Chains. Officialy slavery was abolished in the Dutch colonies exactly 150 years ago. In reality it takes forever.
Please don't ever say "for us this is real." Just be grateful, truly grateful. To choose the life you want.
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| "Hulde der Koloniën" Central panel on the royal golden carriage, the colonies paying tribute to her majesty [1898] |
Let's start today with a long list. No, not a boring one, an import one. Here we go. Surinam; Trinidad & Tobago; Puerto Rico, Virgin Islands; Anguilla; Honduras; Colombia; Venezuela; Brazil; Chille; Mauritania; Ghana; Angola, South Africa, Benin, Nigeria and of course New Amsterdam. We all know what happened with that last name.Frank Sinatra made an entire career out of it.
After this I plan to put my time machine in permanent storage
What is love?
You know when you see her.
Made a mistake today, a big one. Forgot to tell someone I love her. Yes she knows, but this is no ordinary day for her and she needed to hear that from me. And how proud I am of her. Always struck me as odd to say you're proud of someone. It's their achievement but if that's how it works, let's do it. And whenever I think of her and what she's done, a big grin fills my face. My heart is about to explode, guess that's a good thing. [It is.]
All done for tomorrow. Ironed a shirt and some cotton handkerchiefs. No worries I also carry paper ones. I'm a pro, which means I also have a couple of sticker books in my bag for little Miss great granddaughter. Yes, it's a funeral. If you've been following this blog for some time you know I have a way with words, but no worries. I'm more of a hugger.
“In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.”
― Maya Angelou
Today is exactly 11 years since we first met. And what a journey it has been. Despite the fact we both went our seperate ways. Or did we?
In 1977 NASA launched Voyager 1, a space probe. Sixteen days earlier its twin, Voyager 2 was sent on its way. Don't expect any logic in the order in which they were launched. Life is not about making sense. In May of this year, Voyager 1 had travelled some 24 billion km away from earth. It is the most distant human-made object from Gaia ever. And the amazing thing is, we can still hear it. Everybody else hears nothing but static but the scientists at NASA continue to pick up the data Voyager is sending home. Amazing.
Obviously we have grown more distant but every now and then we still talk. No not in words, we're much more advanced than that. She and I share an intimate static, a tongue just for the two of us. Don't be jealous, one day it'll happen to you too. All it takes is time and honesty.
In 2012, the year we met, Voyager 1 left for interstellar space, the region beyond the influence of the stars. If atoms had free will, this is where they would be, out of reach. In reality it is mostly empty with an average of one atom per cubic centimeter. Sounds like a lot, but no. Also these atoms have no free will. Kinda similar to falling in love. We have no say in it, no control over it, it just happens. Usually when you least expect it. Isn't that beautiful? But when you're number is up, embrace it with all you have. We did. Those of you who have been following this blog for a while now, know there is this little traffic jam between my heart and my head. Took me some time to say I love you, then again, those are just words. Guess what she said. "I knew." Smart never sounded more sexy.
No pain, no sadness, just gratitude and happiness. Maybe we'll meet again, perhaps we won't. So what? Forget about what if. I never wondered. There is no next life, this is it.
To be honest, I started writing this post a while back. And finished it several weeks after our anniversary. Nobody will ever know, let's keep it between us. Nope, Dutch is not late to the party, most of the time I'm the light of the party. But no matter how much you love or loved someone, life is in the here and now. Two years ago Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer, stage IV, AKA final phase. Doctors initially tried to ward him of receiving treatment. What's the use? We disagreed. A small miracle happened, today the tumors in his lungs are about 1/100th of the size they were back then, that day we walked into the hospital for the first time. Of course heaven is always just out of reach, so intestinal cancer it was. Against the odds, surgery proved highly succesful. Dad was back on his feet, up and running, a week later. Once wrote Dad has been to hell and back before, this was mere a trip to the supermarket, so to speak. Still. Last week we went to the hospital again, doctors being worried about some of the scar tissue. Haven't slept in days but everything turned out fine. Imagine.
She's not my first love, but eleven years on, she matters beyond words. I once said to someone I loved, I'll go last. Let me finish up here then I'll cross over and find you. Seen it over and over again, two people blessed with love for all eternity. The more decades they share, the luckier they are. Don't we all want that? Then one of them passes away. Seemingly unfazed, their other half takes care of whatever is left to do before they pass away rather sudden for someone in such good health. Health is not just your body. Nothing more healthy than to give and return love. After decades, what's the point in soldiering on allone Nobody enjoys wandering through an empty desert. In one of my first posts I wrote about Baucis and Philemon, a couple from ancient Greek mythology. For their hospitality, the gods rewarded their wish to be together for as long as they could. Upon their death, they became trees. But even trees have to go some day. "Goodbye my love." "Goodbye my love." Harsher words have never been spoken. This is it. The here and now is all we have. And if you're truly lucky, whatever happens, good or bad, you deal with it together. Even if the outlook is grim, facing it together is a privilege. If it happens to the two of you and you can, you're blessed.
Mum passed away exactly ten years ago this summer. In the days leading up to her death, I had this recurring dream that my love would fall out of the sky, in the car seat right next to me. Somehow everything would be allright. That did not happen, but one crucial night she saved my live. Not sure if she keeps up with my blogging adventures, but I never told her this in person. Whenever Dad and I are at the hospital, I see mostly elderly couples. His burden is her burden and vice versa. Remember how I wrote about Harm Me To Hurt You. It's that kind of connection - done right. Yes, we both dabbled a bit in kink but it's not why we love each other. Once told her: the woman? Always. The woman and the mistress? Even better. Just the mistress? Never. She smiled.
Mistress is always right? Nonsense. Cannot disagree with the woman you love? What is she to you then, some sort of kinky crash test dummy? If you love her, speak up. Send her to see the doctor. Sorry, I mean, we should go see your GP because I'm worried about you. I'll drag you if I have to. Always remember, whatever comes next, we'll do it together. And yes that includes holding hands when it's crunch time at the doctor's office. D'oh. Disagree with her when you have. That's love too. What if you have kids together? And we all know proper parenting means Mom and Dad are equals. Rises way above any kind of silly game you can come up with. If you hope to spend the rest of your lives together, there's more than femdom. She was always ahead of me. Basket for our mobiles so we can have proper family dinners. Excellent. Yes, that's my girl too, the woman who, if she could, would have her phone surgically implanted in her arm. She even offered to go camping trip with me. Imagine. I just smiled, outside and inside. Very much not her thing but she wanted to try it. By now I imagine she's writing the ultimate guide on how to win any man's heart. When she does, it's gonna sell out in seconds.
Most of the time people are just stupid individuals, I am. Initially there is little difference between being hit by a ton of bricks and struck with love. But when it happens to two people at the same time - me still not being aware of the transitional proces I'm being in - and she calls you one morning, wow. And then again. Oh, did I already call you? Twice she tells you the exact same thing, that she loves you. I was in bed, floating. A little later the phone rings a second time. Same thing all over. I'm happy to have survived so much bliss. The night before a 'friend' slipped some MDMA in her drink. My Angel doesn't remember a thing. It's both beautiful and sad. If two people are so deeply connected, this should be a shared memory. It wasn't. Her precious gift to me to cherish forever.
On the other hand, the absurd amount of trust she put in me, a stranger at the time, is breathtakingly overwhelming. How can any man live up to that? A beautiful burden, yes, but nevertheless a burden. Don't worry it's a happy burden.
Love is crazy and if it isn't, you're probably with the wrong person. Ours is. Then it ended, the chewing gum way. Try to tear it apart. We kept on talking, kind of irregular but who says time is linear. I remember one special night when the doctors had given up hope on Mum. Being me - and exhausted - I technically messaged her on t+1: 'hey. today. anniversary.' Trust me, seeing my phone flicker up just moments later is unlike anything else. Especially that night. And no, I didn't tell her. But right there and then something she said a while back, came to mind. "When my Mom passes away, I'll be very sad." That night we talked about the weather or something. And Ascott I think.
Another time after we broke up, she fell ill, seriously ill. After a day or so without any kind of reply I was worried. That's not her. Passport ready on my desk, staring back at me, so I bought a last minute ticket. About 90 minutes before I was about to leave, she texted. Friends just dropped by with soup. Some may find it odd. Just remember this: your ex doesn't tell you she is gravely ill - and worried about 'the fam' - if she doesn't want you in her life. Anyway, I threw out the ticket.
Don't worry, this is no some half-baked attempt at getting back together after all this time. She went her way and I went mine. If you truly love someone, you do leave a piece of your heart behind. Beautiful, isn't it? Imagine two people falling in love. Hard. One night she shows it in such a way that the brakes come off for all eternity. Impressive? Yes? Never a burden. Still you keep on wondering how you can live up to her expectations. Quick reminder, this is a story about two people, hopelessly in love. Her happiness is all that matters. Don't worry, she and I share an unique rhythm to connect. It just flows naturally. It's good, as in really good. Don't worry, it's gonna happen to you too one day. Just be yourself. And say hello when you see her.
There is no such thing as 'they made it'. What does it even mean? Two people married for 50-plus years and nobody knows whether or not they were happy. But hey they made it. So what? I love her. She loves me. This time zero assumption or arrogance. To love each other and being together are necessarily the same thing.
Back in 2013 Mom couldn't go on anymore. Our Mother passed away shortly after seeing her granddaughter one last time. Mum waited for her. To this day I wonder what seeing her granddaughter must have meant to her. As for us, not all lovers spend a lifetime together, no regrets. OK, would've been nice, very nice. And yes, in those days before Mom died, there was nothing I wanted more than for her to be by my side. I needed her by my side. All it took was just one word. But that wouldn't be fair. One night, before we fell asleep, she asked: 'what will your family say when you bring home a black girl for Christmas?'
It's difficult to translate emotions into words. What I really meant back then was
not for her to fall out of the sky to give me strength, but to meet Mom. "Hi
Mom, this is Her." And everything would be alright. Only last year we found
out the secret hell Mom's life had been. Now I crave the impossible even more.
The day she died Mom said something beautiful. "Just love each other, it's all
there is." So true. Real love, long, short, today, tomorrow or yesterday,
whether you're together or not, lasts forever. I know she loves
me. And I love her. It's one thing to love someone and another thing to tell
them you do. Apart from the memories, the best thing perhaps is that I finally
understand it's better to say you love rather than to assume they know. So I
started telling those I love, I love them more often. Here we go:
I love you.
"Would you care to repeat what I just said?"
