Wednesday, March 27, 2013


               ~ IDYLLIC: ORATIO OBLIQUA~

Yesterday morning, or perhaps last night, Celeste will wake up dead. 

It will take quite some time before she will take note of this. 

Celeste will have just ventured out, the evening before, with her BestFriendForever, Ashlynn Jameson, to seek out a new restaurant and bar, Le Colisee.

Dave will not appear too excited about this, and Celeste will worry that he may be upset by the time upon which she returns---especially if she should so happen to have spent far too much time catching up with her long-time friend, with whom she will have not seen in a little over an academic year.

Ashlynn has been on a study abroad exchange of some sort---premised upon Classical Literature and Ancient Mythology or something like this. 

Ashlynn's long-winded, bubbly digests are quite familiar to all. 

In fact, they register quite regularly as a “cc:all” expose to her steady circulation of friends, as well as the many more recent admirers she will have gathered along the way.

Mykonos....Athens....Barcelona...CATalonia...(as Ashlynn has never fail to educate her fellow, feathered ilk).....

All this...and even more, still, ...and, yet, always all the best parts....divulged solely for Celeste's pervy perusal and private consumption...

And so now, Celeste will be able to unearth even more....always more..about her darling girlfriend's heady endeavours and their lusty conclusion.

Ah, for example,......Tomas, the hunky, highly adroit Catalonian, with whom Ashley has only just memorialized a Great Escape to Venezia ....

A sweet, but sordid, escapade, culminating with tentative, then turbulent, finger-filled dalliances to the tune of that silent symphony on the muddy waters of a midnight gondola ride...

A tasty bon appetit, indeed, for el senor,  fanned beneath her popularly peasant skirt....and how Ashlynn would squirm re-living how she would try her best to ignore the rocking and swaying of that small, floating apparatus so many millions of light-years away from the crunchy granola of her more usual endives...

Like Hendry's Beach off the Pacific Coast......or a stolen moment of picnicking a la va va voom on checkered, gingham blankets..or were they Freddy's Burgers napkins...? 

Ashley will have developed a learned disdain for  those comparatively milder throws of passion----long-gone and tossed out to sea--- amid the persistent flow of tides along the edges of humanity.... 

Celeste is more than willing to subsume this all the while...... emptying recollections of fuzzy, fading remnants of her own times passed...... 

Like losing her Bon Genre Jeans to the Pacific Coast in a newly naked embrace, 

Her soaked front pockets bearing down, impeding resistance, reuniting with Donnie's t-shirt, their having become saddled with quarters readied for a midnight sack of colorless bra-and-panty-laundry and Donnie's short sleeves. 

All this in salute to the elements, yet little more than a mere pittance to Mother Nature, herself. 

But, no, no.  

Celeste will quickly return to the seedy seat of novelty, smack dab in front row, where things were a LOT less pedestrian.

You see, Ashlynn was a LADY in Europe. 

That being so, it was only polite, then, to allow her beau, Tomas, to have a gander at her prized and pretty pink possession, and  unthinkable to lie concealed indelicately beneath some nondescript fabric of commodity.

Ah, yes, Celeste will be most eager to relish all of these naughty delicts abroad, in real time, after all that she has devoured at length before her computer screen. 

Things were going to get real. 

Celeste will reach out, compelled by her quest to fully expose those secret treasures of abandon, in concert she hopes, with her long-time beau . 

She has lived for the date of this reunion, it seems, and a lustful re-mixing of the familiar: the  widening of Ashlynn's complicit, dazzling hazel-green eyes, her full breasts thrusting forward out of habit, as she embarks anew, weaving her delicious narrative to life.

David will not know what hit him.

 Certainly, yes, Celeste has been yearning  for this sort of gathering for much more than a fortnight.  

And now she wants to collect . 

Her attention will divert, at moments, upon........

 The thought of Ashlynn's cheeks, which usually tend towards rosy when she is just about to spill the raciest of spoils.  

The impish dive  of Ashlynn's heart-shaped head, as she lowers her gaze mid-sentence;

The corners of her girlfriend's lips, when they curl conspiratorially;

Their interchange will commingle, as they often do, laced with sheepish smirks of self-censorship and bouts of sheer, bemused embarrassment;

False modesty will peel away as Ashlynn's hushed giggles tell all. 

Together, they will find it increasingly troublesome to fight back the tears of merriment. 

Time and again, they may attempt to stifle and compress Ashlynn's naughty narrative at irregular intervals, shielding themselves from spectators' wandering eyes and wondering ears. 

And, of course, the waiter will come near making his proverbial rounds-----mostly mid-bite.  

Just like clockwork.

Just to see if “everything's alright.” 

And it will be. 

And so very much more than 'alright.'”

Celeste will encroach progressively as the night waxes on, building upon each succulent recantation of her muse. 

Celeste will catalog all manner of happenstance this evening,  hoping to unleash her very own  brand of sex magic, just this once, but precisely where and when she should.  

She will attempt to widen the circle . 

Just for one.

Or, well, her party of one. 

Ah, the sweet, unassuming, ever-so-devoted David.

Now, ordinarily, Celeste would have had no difficulty casting forth a reasonable reproduction of her notorious pal's far-flung charisma. 

But her rehearsals were largely confined to solitary pursuit. 


Yet, here, Celeste will assume certain studied positions, on this once upon a night. 

It is a given that she will start out well enough. 

She will advance with all the more purpose between the unforeseen hours of this endless night.  

Celeste's impending desire will mount bit by bit, eager to rejoice, relive, and suddenly give rise to a fait accompli. 

She races full speed ahead without regard for what could have otherwise resulted from certain derisive acts of jamais-vu.

Celeste will have hastened the destiny which stirs so immutably within, in spite of herself.  

By definition, Celeste has had plenty of ...well, practice... gleaned from that steady stream of salacious digest------- awash with the magnetic agony, ecstasy, and octane-laden discourse which spawns over-easy from randy wild-child, Ashlynn. 

Celeste has been au courant  for such a very long time.

More often than not, perhaps, this feverish intoxication could have topped off, occasioning itself to die a warm, slow, heady little death. 

Until this one night,  her fantasies would have remained burrowed within the exclusive domain of private life: 

Slipping through solely during hidden, unspecified stretches of time;  

Shrouded within and beneath her stark-white bedroom linen;

Finding their welcome respite,  peacefully atop Celeste's personal pleasure chamber. 

Normally, she would have flicked about, pressing persistently with her tiny, finely tuned digits---- until she stopped.

However, this time around, not so much. 

On this other day or night, something else will have come to pass instead....and rather remarkably so.

And all because, and perhaps only because, at the culmination of this very grand soiree and pleasure-filled reconnaissance...things really won't seem all that different. 

Not at first . 

And, yet, after all this, somehow it all must cease to be.

Because Celeste will wake up dead.


(Rough Edit)
WRITTEN by Sandra LONDON on MARCH 19th, 2013.

Follow The Grind

Friday, March 15, 2013

~TGIF: Gesundheit, Nietzsche!!!~

There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy.”

                                        “Without music, life would be a mistake.”

                              “I love those who do not know how to live for today.”

Follow The Grind

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

20 Random Thoughts: Whereby Whimsy Wanes Supreme

1) I am amusing myself with how much my obstinately agnos-like interests are piqued by the impending announcement of new Papal Sovereignty. Have NOT slept a wink since opening procession...Seriously, I had no clue I would be so very, very curious!

2) I'm secretly hoping that it is Leonardo Sandri < I read a brief bio about 14 of the candidates on AP the other day and liked his worldliness. I think that's why, anyways. Oh, and like S.L., L.S.....umm..never mind ;).>

3) Are we seriously having a pollen palooza or something? My sinuses have been on strike since about November. =(

4) What is it about Prague that has taken such hold of my heart? It ain't about a boi. That place is just...MAGICAL.

5) Um, why do beachside properties call my name?

6) How is it that I can spend hours looking at furniture online, in person, in print...for no apparent reason other than 'Tis sooooo PRETTTTTY!!! eeeee!'

7) I might as well buy a boat some day. Or, a pony. I'll settle for a mini-pig.

8) Why do I miss school/university?

9) Why do I NOT miss the price of tea funded by private school loan disbursements?

10) Dude, I have no idea why Nymwars and virtual world lawsuits are so endlessly fascinating.

11) Was it not awesome that Rand Paul went there, yo. ALICE IN WONDERLAND, for the WIN!!! =)

12) When will I have the time to read all these new books about, well, ...time? a minute..!!!

13) If a maid would simply show up at my door, I'd pay them. ;)

14) Why is my birthday wishlist compiled largely with things I think Sir Fyo would like to eat, chew, destroy, or scr...well, whatever, but why?

15) What is it about successive numbers in a series that keep me waiting for 12/13/14? Oh, the finality of it all!!!

16) Why did this 20 things thingie seem like a MUCH better idea my head? <smile!>

17) Um, are we there yet?

18) Oh, did I remember to remind you that I failed to mention on Sunday's show that I'll be doing aural audio-book stuff, namely, reading ALICE IN WONDERLAND, ART OF WAR, and HUIS CLOS <aka NO EXIT by Sartre>...or maybe THE TRIAL by KAFKA ;)

..chapter by chapter...petit a, probably next weekend?!?! 
Well, to begin, of course...

19) Do you care? Did you know sometimes I read with no clothes on? lol

20) No worries!!!


Je Fais Do-Do Maintenant,

p.s.: Pictures to be added later

Follow The Grind

Monday, March 4, 2013

On ThoughtCrimes And ActionSpeech

Almost Twins on Twitpic
"Almost Twins" Photo Series by Jimmy DiBlanket

Ahh,To Each His/Her Own 'Parole'....

What got me started in the train of thought which will comprise the diatribe which follows first began with a random glance of a fleeting image of words in a News Headline on some major search engine's news feed, "_______ arrested after posting on ---insert social media platform here---". 

The arrest was premised on the spontaneous blurb on said platform of an allegedly self-reported, possibly unlawful happenstance by the person in question.

Of course, this is not the first time such a story has appeared in viral media outlets, but this particular occasion did transport me, semi-indirectly, back to memories of being knee-deep in conceptual discussions in a graduate course on deep textual analysis and the historicity and provenance of text. 

You see, some of the world's most revered French authors, renowned in space and time for their masterful turn of a word, phrase, or literary form first made their mark in literary circles by first writing short, episodic series---most often fiction, but sometimes not, in local news publications. 

The longer the submission, the higher the pay (as the editors paid by the word or by the line for publication). 

The longer the series, the more 'regular' and steady the livelihood.

Popularity ensured lengthy episodics (and drama will always have an audience at the ready.)

Fast-forward to today's fast-paced world, where everything seems to be in reverse. 

People are more than happy to tell you everything, ANYTHING, with no apparent theme---be it in an endless stream (or 140 characters or less ;) ). 

And for FREE, even!   

Now, on certain platforms, a modern day 'writer' must work within given constraints (like,say, 140 characters or the length of an image or width of a text-box). 

And now EVERYONE can be a writer, by the very act of WRITING. 

One is free to press on and write. as one's self, one's "self", or on behalf of others with or without definable points of reference.

The collective sharing culture of the Info age steers all manner of informational writing, whereby all levels of writer and writing may, sheepishly, blur the lines between info and entertainment and trend towards what is most "sensational", 'current', and 'popular' with respect to the attention-addled masses--- that captive audience whose consumption is sought and which,on average, is likely to result in, say, 30 seconds' screen-worth of a given offering. 

Any given 'share' will therefore rarely amount to more than a planche of debris on the info superhighway.

So, let's examine present day multi-user, interactive social platforms--- which continue to increase their virtual foothold and pseudo-omniscience which, despite their built-in limitations, otherwise provide for a free-for-all as to what is or can be shared. 

A typical user's 'feed' will serve the uninitiated with either what 'appears' to be:

-> a stream of disjointed, sporadic thought processing

or, instead 

-> a bouquet of narcissistic redundancy: 

"Visit my site now!"

 "Click Here!", 

"My Site, Here. LOOK!" 

"nOW. sITE. vISIT. mY." 

"My.Me.Give" ;)

In the 'real world', this form of sharing would be, at BEST: 

-> commitment-worthy anti-social, raving lunacy, 

-> waaaay-too-friendly, 

-> or troublingly, perhaps diabolically manic 

subject to very special buses and happy rooms...(Ah, if only!)

Reality notwithstanding,  the culture and mores of the virtual world are engendered by the social platform itself. The new multi-universe breeds a collective sense of normalcy for regularly random intervals of "overshare"---a loose assortment of either trivia, repetition, or fleeting sentience. 

Now, speech is used (or can be used) to share one's:




or emotion. 

Additionally and/or alternatively, speech can also share:


"polite fiction", 






Um, and irony.

(On behalf of one's self, one's "Self", or of others.

One person's whimsy can be read, on its face, as a social ill borne of depravity. 

This, in spite of the veracity, intent, or provenance of a given message, its authenticity, or authorship. 

Without a deeper narrative (or supporting characters), the original purpose of a message can be lost, misinterpreted, or transposed into whatever the recipient may happen to associate with it, whether they be the intended audience or not. 

Or whether the true intent was ever successfully drawn from the text.

Words are things; 

Words are symbols with meaning built into them, by, well, definition. 

Moreover, they are fluid by nature (and by will) ;

They are not static, fixed entities. 

It is because of the very 'life' of words that they remain open to interpretation, engagement, and debate.

Humanity is what is defined in the gaps...... the omissions; in the pursuit of provenance and consensus.

Why, even comedy depends mightily on this very fluid embodiment---

As does:





conversation (in which one may participate, observe, recount...or overhear)...

As does thought.

In my view, 'social sharing' is the penultimate "overhear". 

A windfall of vacuous truth. 

Akin to 'hearsay'. 

And, legally, normally, that doesn't count. 

(Well, unless you're a certain notorious cellmate on the other side of the steely bars in Chicago. Why, then, statutory exceptions can be made. Just for vous.)

Without more, though, most words (and, by extension, thought) are not actionable. 

Or, rather, should not be.

Not in a free world. 

Now, as a society, it is generally for the common good that we penalize 'overt acts' of speech, such as: 


fighting words,

yelling "FIRE" in a crowded room, 


because of their likely tendency and pre-conceived expeditious INTENT to incite moral panic. 

However, token overt acts aside, most thought amounts to 'not that much' . 

Thought is a behemoth which stands alone on the world wide web. 

With no known owner.

Choose Your Own Aftermath,

Follow The Grind