Sometimes I think nobody reads communicatrix - dot - com except old boyfriends and people interested in the "trix" part.
Instead they find insanely long diatribes about poop and happiness and the importance of sorting out your poop if you want to find happiness and they leave.
Of course if I hammer on Microsoft or talk about my sex life or blog like a drunken pirate they can't get enough. What's an earnest middle-aged blowhard-evangelist of personal change to do? I want the eyeballs but I want them to care.
Caring eyeballs, that's what I want.
So for all of you who came here expecting sex and gossip and more sex I'm sorry, kids, despite the provocative name (which I'm not living up to) there's no leather and latex, no whips or crotch floss no NSA breathless confessions or Dear Penthouse Forum, You'll Never Believe What Happened to Me letters...
No gigantic cock sexy cheerleaders XXX porno MILF-granny-hot carl-dirty sanchez girl-on-girl action.
No pointy leather boots bustiers edible underwear nipple rings ball clamps butt plugs face masks or restrictive clothing here.
But if that's what you're into I hear Carly has a corset...
With apologies to Robert Bruce, the really good poet who inspired me, and all other poets who actually get how to work in this form.
Poetry Thursday is here. Neil Kramer (Citizen of the Month), from whom I heard about Poetry Thursday, is here. Carly Milne, who is hot and actually does own a corset, writes about lots of good stuff here. Finally, really, really good blogging & poetry at Robert Bruce's site, knifegunpen, here.