Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Cherry
Monday, August 18, 2014
The Most Fun
© Milton H. Greene |
You know I read that Marilyn Monroe had the most fun with one of her photographers, Milton H. Greene. Although she had been photographed by other professional and talented men, Milton could capture her exactly how she was beautifully because he cared for her and honestly she counted upon him as one of her closest confidantes and friends. She had grown so comfortable with him shooting and working with her that nudity and controversial subject matter became everyday ordinary between them. It was a unique professional and personal relationship because the two depended upon each other and their life wouldn't be the same without each other. They had a deep bond that no one could replace, only each other. Marilyn trusted Milton. His wife summed their relationship up beautifully in a single quote...
I was never jealous of Marilyn. Arthur [Miller] was always jealous of Milton, which was interesting in a way. Arthur had another life. Why should he be jealous? I didn't need Marilyn, but she sure as hell needed Milton, and he needed her, because both of them were never the same after that. These two people should have been together through thick and thin. Nothing... nothing should have put them apart. I was smart enough to realize that, it would have been a whole other life for both of them."
- Amy Greene
I think the most influential and supportive people in your life motivate you because they see you the way you are... not how they want you to be. And they simply support you as you are.
My favorite people motivate and support each other and there's no room for interference or intercepting because of jealousy or pettiness no matter how long or short it's been between seeing each other. They know how hard and busy life is and realize how good it is to see each other succeeding or just see each other in general. And are happy for the small moments of hello's and etc. You try to keep those kinds of people around in life because they are worth it.
Here's a story from one of my ebooks about motivating someone to grow and expand themselves. It is another that is a second version and it's amazing that the second versions are sometimes the best versions. Being the best version of yourself to anyone means the world and lets others trust you.
Are you a person that hinders others or do you motivate everyone and support them? Is there anyone you have fun working with?
Enjoy!
Kisses, m.
Friday, July 4, 2014
Generosity
Discipline
(2-11-2011)
Dylan Montgomery never got what he wanted in life. This was mostly because he didn’t know how to get it. Always afraid of what might happen if he were to be denied so he never asked. Dylan wasn’t a bad looking fellow; in fact most women would find him attractive and quite charming. He had always been sweet and pleasant. But Dylan often found himself overlooked. Because there are men who go after what they want with a fervent desire rather than stand aside in fear, and he wasn’t one of them.
Until he met her.
May.
The introduction was quite brief but his attraction to her couldn’t be missed. The new friend of an old friend that insisted her hand forward and tried to get him to talk. Instantly he could feel her attraction for him and felt himself step back inside. Dylan had never been shy or what some might call introverted but he couldn’t help catching his own tongue when he they met. It sounded like a dream when she said his name. In response he couldn’t help but say hers. She’d smiled back widely when he said her name, May.
Although he didn’t know why she picked him, Dylan knew from the first time he laid eyes on her that she could give him what he wanted. She was exactly the kind of girl that would do it. A little bit of sweet with a lot of daring. If only he could bring himself to ask her to…
“Spank me!” His screams beg for it as the leather strap cracks before laying into his bare ass. “Darling, give it to me. I need to be punished. SPANK ME!”
Dylan wasn’t like the other boys growing up. He hadn’t any desire to misbehave. Only a desire for what came after the trouble. The reprimand. The harsh swift paddle against his bare skin meant business and he couldn’t resist. This urge developed into an insistent predilection. But whenever it came time in a relationship to tell a woman what he wanted he shied away from the very notion and walked the other way. Except when it came to May.
May wasn’t persistent like other women he’d pursued, but she always made sure that Dylan knew of her complete adoration at every chance. It was often a mere touch of the arm, a wink or a smile but he knew that she would do whatever he wanted if only he could bring himself to ask it. Dylan could only think of the others who spurned and rejected his vulnerabilities before he could ever let them in. And he always let them leave.
For weeks Dylan avoided her direct gaze in their common haunts. Embarrassed by what he secretly wanted in private. Amidst a sea of their closest friends he would find himself staring at May through the cracks and nooks but unable to face her. The very thought of what he wanted from her tormented him inside. Between two friends or more he would not allow for their closeness or flirtation. Often May would smile to encourage him further. But Dylan couldn’t manage to react fully to her encouragement. The moment would quickly pass with his tongue tied in knots.
“Give me more.” May loosens up the leather strap and waits for him to insist once again before giving a little more. And he does. “More!”
When the cat and mouse of things had become quite hard for him to bear, Dylan decided that he needed to take an action. An action that seemed too bold but completely necessary. Dylan extended an evening invitation to May who agreed. And things proceeded smoothly until he began to think of what he really wanted to do and say. With those thoughts their intimacy had quickly become a moment that flushed his face leaving him to catch his tongue once again.
Dylan knew May to be armed with an interesting knack for sensing a person’s tension. It wasn’t a shock that she continued to remain close to him. Dylan understood that it was her only desire to encourage him further. It couldn’t be denied that she truly enjoyed Dylan thoroughly.
Her remaining closeness kept his heart racing. And the racing of his heart sent his pulse into a frenzy. At last he decided to react instead of ducking behind anything to avoid the obvious. With a swift and direct hand he raises and smacks her across her backside before telling May exactly what he wants. The firm hand of discipline that only she could give him. With a slight twist in her smile and lean of her head, May leans into his right ear with a whisper that tells Dylan she’d have no problem giving him what he wanted.
“More? I’ve been very bad, May. I think I need more. Give me more. MORE!” Lashing after lashing continues by the course of her extended hand.
May tells him “let me” before tying Dylan’s hands far above his head. Both his legs spread and waiting for the sting upon his bare skin. Dylan feels overjoyed as their moment is brought to realization by the swift sharp slap of her hand.
Dylan Montgomery was getting exactly what he wanted for the first time in his life and all he had to do was ask for it.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Moonlight
(1-23-10)
Never ending movement continuing for all eternity. There is no stopping. Swinging and swaying. Back and forth movement of the night. The rhythm has a hold of my soul and will rob my spirit from eternal rest. Sinful, but there was no better earthly pleasure than the dancing. In the realm of death it is a prison that holds my bones hostage.
The first night he came to call was very warm. Air was thick and wet. One of those humid evenings where a person’s skin just crept with electricity. There wasn’t a peaceful soul in those parts for days. As a matter of fact, that warm evening when the air was so heavy, you could feel the restless growing like an untamed beast. Same little song was playing on my Daddy’s Victrola. Same ol tune I used to frolic and skip to as a child. The only light in the whole house was a candle on the kitchen table. Too hot to sleep. Too restless to sit still. Dancing in the dark by the pale moonlight. Daddy was asleep in the rocker on the porch. Mama was watching from the kitchen. That’s when he showed up. No more than a shadow at first. Then a man emerged from nothing and took hold of my arms. Gripping. Leading. I couldn’t resist following. We were dancing. Spinning ‘neath a full moon. Daddy never stirred. Mama just sat there. The specific features of his face escape me. Even in death the details of that night are no clearer. We danced and danced, until the music stopped. There was nothing but shadows once again.
For days and days, this mysterious figure arose and appeared at random intervals and odd occasions. Every time we danced it felt as though I was losing control of myself. More and more he would press me further. As he lead, the movements became stranger and stranger until I couldn’t break free. Lost in the movement. Trying to remember my way back. I’d never been so intoxicated by the dance before. Without warn the warm nights grew quite cool from the arrival of the crisp autumn air. The enigmatic stranger remained elusive and unseen. Somehow his presence seemed connected to the season. For several days I’d longed for the heat to return. When it did not, I remembered how to dance alone easily forgetting the shadow that controlled me beneath a summer moon.
Autumn brought the change of colors with its brisk breath of air. The electricity in the air was nothing more than a bit of static. Quietly the earth prepares to slumber as the days diminish into longer nights. Nightly bonfires soon brought the joyous dances around the blaze. The movements near the fire seemed intensified by the colors. Spinning seemed to have a dizzying effect. Dangerously feeling the effects of vertigo, I pushed & pulled against the warmth of the flames. Thin orange slivers reach out from the inferno almost like the open fingers of an inviting hand. The harsh chill hits my skin with a slap as the sweltering heat beats against it with equal force. The Hot ‘n’ Cold playing tug of war for my affections.
Dancing precariously on a thin line between heaven and hell I continued beneath a black sky filled with tiny sparkling stars. Wildly my rhythm intensifies. I’d lost my shoes. My hair is loose and untamed. Spinning with my eyes closed… Stopping against something. Arms gripping. Locking. Leading. Once again I knew the dance and followed blindly without control. Growing with speed. Gripping tighter. Lost. Dancing madly. The darkness seemed to take hold deeper and stronger than before. Never wanting it to end, I gripped tighter, fiercely returning the phantom’s hold. Almost infuriated the dance changed spinning and turning closer toward the flames. Warm fingers caressing my skin, touching my hair, teasing me with the heat. Like a slight of hand and change of partners the shadow released his hold, sending me dancing into the flames. Alone with my new partner and his deadly fingers. Blue with orange tips. Spinning. Dipping. Burning. Gripping. Unable to break free. Enveloped in the blaze. Dancing to my death.
Wicked desire has created a prison to punish the whims of the flesh. Movements that hold my bones in perpetual rhythm. Haunted by the spirit of song without eternal slumber. Dancing in my bones by the pale moonlight that rests against a blanket of twinkling stars.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
To Wait Anyway...
“If you know you have to wait anyway, why not make a decision to enjoy your life while you’re waiting? Why not be happy...? - Joel Osteen
Tub - c/o tylershields.com |
Open.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Submersion, Synchroncity and Still Life
I am afraid of drowning.
I don't advertise it.
I don't make a thing of it.
I don't even let it stop me from swimming or diving into the deep end of the ocean.
There's a lot of don't's and you're probably wondering what it all means.
It means nothing. Only that you still love wasting time, mine and yours. I still love having fun with you because of it. ha. Are you having fun yet? I am.
Diego Munòz |
This is one of my favorite images, I've used it here and here. Needless to say it reminds me of a bit of darkness that takes place in an old story, that I wrote and later published here, This story in turn reminds me that I was inspired by a video that looks and sounds like this...
And if you're still not following me here's the story that I wrote followed by an image that captures the very essence of the story.
Still Life
(September 25, 2009)
Floating. Weightless. Sinking.
There are a million thoughts in my mind as I’m descending further toward a watery grave. The loose pieces of white sheets dance in the aquamarine expanse that surrounds. The long black tendrils of my hair reach up to grasp and the last remaining spark of golden light that penetrates the water’s surface.
It’s not clear to me how long I have before hitting the bottom, or perhaps even, how long I can continue to hold my breath. There are so many uncertain feelings in my gut. Would this time be different? Had I pushed him too far? Would he really let me die? As I descend deeper and deeper, the pressure becomes heavier and it’s now a struggle to hold my breath. These last moments are becoming quieter and darker. The small glint of golden light is diminishing and the sea around me becomes bluish darkness.
Killing me had always been a threat that neither of us took seriously. Artists. Painters. We we’re so passionate, emotional, misguided, highly wounded and intense individuals. Both to blame so very often. Even after he dropped me off a building, hit me with a car, and took a knife to my face, I still believed in his devotion… as all was in the sake of the craft and I was never in any harm. The beauty of the moment - the creation of a single timeless instant to be frozen for all eternity. After the anger there was always such impractical beauty. Researched. Polaroided. Cataloged. Painted. Hung in the museum, the gallery, or the rich man’s wall for all to envy. This time I’m afraid he’s quite determined and madness has taken over. The madman fitted me with a pair of cement shoes which seal my fate. This will be over soon.
No point in struggling. That will only ensure that I’ll drown sooner. I’m wrapped tightly in 50 yards of white canvas bound by ropes from my shoulders to the base of my calves. Mummified in an eternal moment at the base of the ocean. The fool wanted to see the beauty in my death so he never wrapped my face. “There will be no need to gag you,” calmly he tells me as his hand brushes my cheek and pauses. Look him in the eye for answers. “You won’t scream or you’ll suffocate faster.” There are none as his gaze breaks away. He lifts me and carry me to the edge of the dock. “I can’t change this. You understand? This is the epitome. The final boundary - death. You must see the beauty in this. I love you.” Laugh. Kiss my forehead. Let go.
I’m falling. Watching his face from beneath the surface as it scrutinizes my descent.
Holding my breath is becoming unbearable. It’s quite apparent to me now… there’s no return. Pretty certain I’m reaching the threshold of my limits. Open mouth, release a bubble of air. The time is almost here. I’m fading. There’s no more strength. Take in water. Soon… open eyes and mouth, pale white skin, blood red lips, and aquamarine darkness against white canvas. Breathtaking beauty, researched, photographed, cataloged and then painted. Still life.
Tied Up by Tyler Shields c/o Miller Gallery |
Instantly I'm reminded how much fun it is for me and not for you.
It's still nothing like Fight Club.
Conflict. Solution.
Unlike me...
You mind people pointing fingers & them thinking how much yours looks exactly like someone else's. (*It may be a copy, but its still an authentic copy. You do have your own flair, darling. Be a love. Brag more. Some men really should. Others shouldn't. No shame in the game. kisses.)
You mind giving credit to another person.
You mind so much that you keep making a thing of it.
You mind that you are really crazy inauthentic. (*it's ok. it won't kill you. ha)
There's a lot of minds in there and it's a shame that you still aren't using yours.
I'm not afraid to use mine... why are you? It won't hurt. Ok. It might hurt you a little. Worth it.
Use your mind not your reaction.
Enjoy the story, the images, the video and only you can let your imagination run wild... unless you're afraid?
Kisses, m.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Revisiting The D Chronicles - (Men): Clean Up!
Zachary Quinto - Muddy photo credit: tyler shields c/o tylershields.com |
Every now and then, there's nothing wrong with getting a little dirty. Dirty can be quite sexy. But maybe it's time to clean up your dirty act? Here's another delicious "D" man for you to taste. If you'd like more then head on over to Amazon. Enjoy!
Kisses, m.
Dirty
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
White
(Ooh White Lines) Vision dreams of passion
(Blowin’ through my mind)
Walking the line. 2012. |
“Wow Jemma, that script looks massive. Big part? Little part?” The sidestep to avoid.