Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Clarity

Well, me and Shawnelle got into last night.

Seems like not only all the folks on the Metro force saw the video, some Feds did too and so they want Shawnelle to do some undercover work for them, luring other couples to join in some swinging.

She's so fucking stupid at times, really. It's not illegal now, no, she says, but fucking may become illegal or the capture of the fucking may, or maybe some unforeseen copyright issues may arise and the feds want a register and a headstart and in the meantime they'll pay for the bandwidth. Just want to monitor the situation, they say.

I'm sure they do want to monitor the situation.

Fucking perverts. Have shit on people.

Fuck Shawnelle, grow a brain. Was she always this naive? Am I just blind?

There's some percentage of us out there getting together and doing some very righteous leading edge fucking. Bending the envelope and slipping it in the best orifice on offer. The Authorities don't like this. They don't like people fucking in the first place never mind out there, ya know, full on, full view, full time. Fuck in a dark room with the windows closed lights out. Keep that part of yourself to yourself and keep your self away. Leave the fucking to the beautiful people.

It's the theory of containment. Stay in your place. Don't venture forth. A cards and flowers universe. Where the moaning comes out muted, diseased, and self-defeating. As pain.

See if people really knew their potential, what they have in their pants, the authorities would be in trouble.

So would the Bosses.

If any of us took action on even ten percent of the sex that goes on in our head the world would be a better place. Nothing would get done.

See.

She's still thinking about it - whatever the fuck the offer was, I mean the shit people are asking others to do these days is getting fuck rank weird and they're getting away with it, yes let me give you my time and brains for nothing but some sort of goodwill borne of fear - despite the fifty-five rational arguments put forth by me I don't want to, but I may have to, kick the shit out of her, clear the way for some fucking clarity.

She is a professional psychic not an undercover porn cop, our sexing-out a reflection of our love, not a for lease tool of social control. She just sees the money.

Who knows what dark hand is at work here now out to sabotage her more than fucking likely, discredit her, Shawnelle always showing up the gumshoes, knowing shit, where the bodies, are what the motives are - she's got enemies within the justice system - your honor, the lead investigator is a known internet based pornographer - who knows who is out to get your ass, the better angels selling you out for box seats at an event of unprecedented monotony.

Controlling fucks.

See, they know that fucking is power. A display of fucking is a display of power. I felt that yesterday as I made my way round town. People were looking at me different. I Am The King. And I'll discount the cowering runaway shitlettes, they will always exist, little fucking mice scurrying around looking for a hole or a church or a rotary lunch.

Smiling, approaching, generally engaging me most were. I'd say it was envy if there were any shame in me. But no there is none.

I felt power.

An electric walking talking big on.