I’ve been sitting on this post for a long time with just a couple short notes. I wrote them down while I was high, thinking they were great ideas that I didn’t want to forget about after being out of my mind fucking for a few hours then asleep for seven. I even pulled out the computer to jot them down, because they seemed so important to record. I often I have a thought I like when I’m high that I then fail to remember at all when I wake up the next morning. All I can remember is that I was excited about the idea. Nothing about what it was.
The thing is, these little ideas I get when I’m high, although often kind of clever, don’t usually go anywhere. When I’m high I see this clear, logical argument leading from the observation to truly novel insights. When I wake up, the logic dissipates. Maybe there’s some kind of logic that only works when I’m high, or maybe there’s no logic and it only seems so while I’m high. Since once in a while I have an idea that stays interesting the next day, I think it’s the latter and that sometimes, high logic can randomly result in an interesting thought.
One of these ideas felt like it had something to do with a story I’d read online earlier that day. But I pulled the quote from the story without noting what I wanted to say about it. It’s still an interesting idea, and maybe these thoughts below are something like what I thought was critical to report on. The other idea is totally true but not profound, as I would have thought when I stopped to write it down. But again, I see a connection to a theme I think about a lot.
So here’s the quote I pasted in for the first one:
Put another way: Sex should momentarily rob you of your intelligence, said Dr. Stephen Snyder, a sex therapist based in New York City and author of “Love Worth Making.” It should make you a bit selfish and maybe even regress a bit, he said.
“Good sex makes you dumber,” he said with a chuckle. “And great sex makes you really, really stupid.”
(from “What Sex Therapists Wish You Knew,” New York Times 8/21/2024)
It is absolutely true. I do and say things that are completely out of character. She utterly loses her mind. I mean with her it’s almost like there’s no intelligence at play at all. Not quite none; she can still hold it together enough to tell me not to come inside her, for example. But she always stays close to mindlessness, and for brief moments it entirely goes away. It just comes back when she thinks she needs to protect herself.
Here’s the other bit I jotted down:
Little Slave Girl wouldn’t be here if Master weren’t completely dependable.
I’m pretty sure I was thinking a couple things here. One is just that if I wasn’t faithful, or if she had any doubt that I was faithful, we wouldn’t be having the crazy sex that we have. I wouldn’t be allowed to call her “Little Slave Girl” and she would find it kind of appalling, probably, and very much a turn-off.
But now I wonder … I think I was connecting this all in my mind to the worries I brought up in Misogyny, which is my least favorite post of all because I felt like I didn’t say what I need to say. Not that I expressed it badly, but that I don’t really know what I feel, so it’s impossible to describe it. So maybe this is an opportunity for redemption! Here we go.
I am afraid I give the appearance, here on this blog, that I treat her badly. I’m a feminist and I don’t want anyone to take any kind of non-feminist or anti-feminist message from what I write. But I say demeaning things that sometimes turn her on. I spank her naughty little butt to make sure she knows her place and she squirms and squeals in pleasure. I fuck her hard and deep and tell her not to bother making me stop or slow down because I’m using her and abusing her however I want, and she gasps, overwhelmed with desire. I’m not playing a character and neither is she; it’s us, doing what we’re doing. But that’s all it is, by which I mean, it’s not us being what we are or even being what we’re being. There’s no being–we are not these things. These things are just things we do and they only work because we trust each other and we’re comfortable losing our minds around each other.
That might be the closest I can come to saying what I feel. This is not who we are, it’s just what we do.
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