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Saturday, Feb. 22, 2003 / 12:29 p.m. ~On Writing As Catharsis, and Other Recent Search Engine Hits~ Hey, I've been pimped. As one of a favorite five. Darryl, your writing blows me away, consistently. You say everything I want to say. You are my voice, politically anyway! Thank you, I love your writing...... This? It's Only a Diary. I swear. And it's evolved over the past 800 something entries. Do you know that someone clicked on over 100 pages night before last??? Someone in Canada. I told Mark about it and he said how great it must be to have the power to hold someone's attention like that. But I think whoever it was was really bored and suffering from insomnia. And whoever it was has not been back, so there you go. I try not to do this, really, but I'm going to share some recent search engine hits. People were online looking up these word combinations last night and today and saw my diary listed and clicked here instead. Talk about power! What were they searching for, these interweb addicts? These possible 'newbies', or possible seasoned search pros? "Wide Open Vaginas" - that's a favorite. So much so that I believe I labeled an entire entry with that title. "Writing as Catharsis" - this is my favorite because I believe this, I believe in all the times I've sat with pen in hand, or hands on keyboard and pounded away until whatever it was flew out of my system, the blood oozed out through fingers and spilled into puddles of words. And I always felt better for it. I never cared at the outcome, not until later, or until some self conscious event, or a comment, or a laceration to reopen the wound. Catharsis it is. Thanks for stopping by, you searcher of catharsis. "Sweaty Vaginas" - you think this entry will gain me some more hits? Was that the intention? No, I said I don't like to do this, but I feel compelled. We'll get to the diary portion in a minute. Vulvas have sweat glands, and they do 'sweat', but vaginas? Sweaty? What an odd subject to search for. What was the desired result? A wet one? How would one discern between arousal fluids, normal 'juices' and 'sweat' in just a photo? Was this person looking for photos? And what did I write that led 'him' to this? Or did 'he' mean 'sweat' as chefs mean 'sweat' when they saute vegetables to bring out the juices? As in 'sweat' the onions - but onions are roots, not vegetables, but then carrots are roots and they are vegetables. I know, they are root vegetables. Does one only 'sweat' root vegetables? Vegetables is hard to type, I think. Try it. Here's a good one, "Water Stream Masturbation" - yes, that's fun with water alright. I recommend. I think the 'stream' should be more like a 'jet' though. Pressure is important, as not enough is just not enough, and too much is painful. Reminds me, I shared my Xandria catalog with Brandy the other day. Brandy, formerly known as 'the new girl', and I went to lunch the other day, and we passed the local sex shop/incense shop/whatever and she asked if I'd been in there. I buy my incense at health food co-ops usually, so no, I hadn't. Then I started in on vibrators and dildos and how what's really good is a clitoral stimulator (holy moly, if this entry doesn't get hit on forever as THE entry, I don't know what - I may have to one day delete it!), that all women don't necessarily want to shove large pieces of rubber into their vaginas, but may want to achieve orgasm through the only organ on the human body designed solely for pleasure, the clitoris, thusly desiring a clitoral stimlator, not vibrator, not dildo, not fucking double dong, or whatever crap is out there. I think Brandy is digging the catalog and I hope she treats herself to a toy. Not that toys are necessary, but they can be fun. But don't ask me, I am asexual, I'm all past sex. Over. Done. Unh huh. Really. Now here's a good one, "Masturbation and Massage", but again, how did these people end up HERE? Why here? This is not what they were looking for, is it? Enough with the search engine hits. Today is warm, very, Spring-like, unseasonably, too warm, and windy, windy, windy, the kind of windy that makes you sick of the sound of wind chimes. Yes, I love my chimes on my porch, but to hear them continuously chiming? Uh, no. The cats are dying to go out on the porch, but after Gladys' recent near-death experience from eating whatever is out there, I know I cannot allow free access. I must stand guard, be ready to say NO over and over. I can do this. But not yet. Now is coffee. I just ate oatmeal, and I don't normally eat oatmeal, but sometimes I eat something because I know it's beneficial to my health, so there you go. Oh, here's something else, I dare anyone to fall asleep with Turner Classic Movies on the TV and NOT wake up to see a silent film being shown in the middle of the night. I dare you. Happens every single time. More, more, Roadiepig, I ate the salad leftovers the next day. It was a smaller salad, as the lettuce had wilted, and it was not horrible, but it was not very good either. Alas, the end to the forgotten salad saga. And what's the deal with nightclubs? Stay home, people! Nightclubs are filled with smoke and pheromones and alcohol, a deadly combination even without all the pyrotechnics. I recommend dancing to loud music in your living room, and leave the pepper spray in your backpack. Light a candle if fire turns you on. Turn on MTV or VH-1 or one of the millions of digital cable music channels for background video images of men with really horrible hair. And if you must flirt, well, look in the mirror and enjoy your clitoral stimulator. That's all I've got to say. Cost of the War in Iraq
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