PlacLifeLover's Blog

~Computer Theater~

placlifelover — Thu, 28 May 2009 11:30:49 +0000

Why does computer stuff have to sound soooo dramatic? I mean, take this as an example:
„Once started, the system restore cannot be stopped. Do you wish to continue?“
What gives?! It’s so freaky and scary, that it completely deactivates me and thoughts of consideration cross my otherwise windy head. I’m like a little kid – If you say something is bad for me – I want it ! And if you warn me not to do something – it makes me want to do it ! So when you hand me warnings like „If you do this we take no responsibility and you alone shall bear the consequences of your actions. “ I feel guilty AND stupid and I also get confused, to top it all off. So Mr. God-Damn-Gates of the Whatever-soft – Hello there! Make a decent system, that is suitable for creeps also!

Let Her Tell You Something’

placlifelover — Wed, 27 May 2009 19:46:30 +0000

I love,no,adore prostitutes and all who’re willing to sell their very flesh for whatever reason. The idea of their twisted,dirty way of life makes me want to talk to them,ask them millions of questions,which are all dully similar. I want to see them,even stare at their bruises as they craw away to the nearby corner. I love it. Their emotionless expression,their badly chosen clothing and hair color.It’s not just prostitutes though – all kinds of whores amuse me. Young girls,who don’t seem to be familiar with shame at all,not even slightly,and they’re willing to lick the cocaine right off of the tip of your dirty shoe,even though they’re well aware of your intention to kick them right in the ‘kisser’.
Slutty girls are fine,but what really makes me squeak is the idea of a boy,carelessly selling his skin to whoever wants it. Best thing ever – they don’t even need the cash that desperate…
Ah,boys,boys…Girls,don’t dry,I love you as well,but I must now confess that my most common fantasies are about charming teenage gigolos,not aware of the existence of the little something we people like to address as ‘pride’. Pride and Prejudice…
This love of mine is probably what led to the events,that you are about to read all about starting…now!

Chapter 1: Her black eyes,my dark thoughts.
- part 1-

The hall was so creepy…cold and dirty it was now empty ahead of me. I’m currently at a whore-house,you see,so the scenery wasn’t that unexpected.Mistress ‘Visage“,as she kindly asked me to address her,was not only a man,but also a stinky one. Someone had to notice her. I,of course,was that very persona. She had left me all alone in that dark place saying only this : ‘Walk down this corridor now,precious,and don’t even turn around to look for me. I promise,that wherever you walk in,you will be taken care off however you wish and will most certainly come back to me satisfied when your time runs out.’
Great. I wanted a girl for the night and now who knows what I’ll come across. Damn it,this tension made me so excited! I felt the need to run right in the darkness,but alas, it was lacking the room for such an attempt. Don’t misunderstand- that did not stop me from doing so. Also it led to my falling down on the floor,breathless and hot. Why the hell was I suffering from heat when it was in fact so damn cold in this place? As I was trying hard to comprehend the situation I was in,my eyes noticed a crack in the nearby door. Naturally it didn’t take much time nor thought for me to get up quickly and walk right in with a twisted laugh. My eyes were closed while I was still giggling,but when I opened them once more I…
-Oh,you’re my lover for the next hour,I suppose.
-That much is obvious.
I was only hearing a voice,while watching a pale back,dressed in an outfit I was not able to determine yet.
-You’re not the kind type,are you now? Oh well,I can’t afford to mind.
-And you shouldn’t want to.
At that moment silence pierced the room and after this short pause,that seamed to last for days,now the white back stood up and slowly turned towards me. My mind was now in chaos…
-Hm – ‘it’ smiled – what be thy wish,my Lady?“To talk! Only to talk!“ my mind repeated,but my lips remained shut. It was a beautiful girl. More beautiful than anything you could ever imagine,unless you were somehow in my body at that very moment and were able to see for yourself what I was now facing.
Dark hazel hair.Curled slightly at the ends.
Black eyes.Red lips. Pale white skin – the kind you’d love to color in strawberry gashes. Leave not even the tips of her long fingers’ tips unkissed,nor her lovely hands uncut.Tall,but no more than 175cm.
A blue miniskirt,a white jacket,that poorly covered her upper body,leaving that cute and perfectly flat belly clearly visable.Naturaly for this business,that same jacket had feathers of some sort.Bare feet.So simple,yet so matching to her lifestyle. You couldn’t help but be pulled right into her skinny arms’ grip.
-Well?Will you say something,or am i supposed to do whatever I please with you?
-N-no…
Let me brighten your thoughts – I was never one to remain silent for more than a couple of seconds and here I was now speechless as a fish.Meaning I was only opening my mouth in a weird „O“ and swallowing the heavy air.
I finally managed to pull myself together and spoke with pride:
-Let us talk.
-Oh,so you’re the perverted type after all.Dirty words satisfy you the most,right?
-No! I want you to talk to me about your life.
I was telling the truth,you know. I often wondered what it would be like if I were to one day have a conversation with a whore in a real hotel and all,but now was actually the first time I ever really did it. Sex would be fine to,of course, but I would only be able to enjoy it fully if I had had the chance to have my questions answered. So,yes,it didn’t bother me to have actual intercourse with my subject of analysis. I didn’t even care about the gander,but the beauty was naturally expected.As luck would have it, tonight I had probably hit the jackpot.Ah,if only I had known…

Never Looking Away

placlifelover — Sat, 16 May 2009 08:13:01 +0000

…but also never shreding even a single sound.

Не затваряй очи.Не премигвай дори.Добре,може,но само този път…
Набюдаваш как живота безмилостно се приплъзва по клетките ти,търсейки път навън, напоняйки ти,че колкото и да не ти се иска,нямаш друг избор освен да му се подчинняваш. Вярно е,можеш съвсем самичък да го спреш с няколко прости движения,но тъй като цял живот си си бил страхливец не виждаш смисъл тепърва да си изграждаш смешна фасада на смелчага,на герой,макар и такъв,който никой никога не би и няма да уважава.
Колко хубаво би било ако можеше светът да си съществува без да те забелязва,мислиш си. Но той и сега не е толкова заинтригуван точно от твоите глуповати изрази на безгрижност. Ти обичаш да си навсякъде,да виждаш всичко,да го усещаш и все пак да оставаш безкрайно дистанциран от реалността и времето. Нека си тече – все така плавно секунда след секунда,после минута,час,ден…два. Сенките отдавна са те приели в обятията си и няма да те пуснат никога вече,дори и един ден сам да пожелаеш да се отделиш от тяхната сигурност,придружена за жалост от крайно абсурдна самота. Сега не се дърпай,не упорствай повече – на никого не представляват интерес твоите грижи и неволли,още по-малко ще ти бъде зададен някога вече въпроса,кънтящ вечно в главата ти, а именно проклетото „защо?“ . Кртко и ясно,нали така беше? Е,отговоръ също ще позакъснее с нпколко поколения.
Сега очитети вече не трепват,клепачите са забравили да изпънляват друга функция,различна от неволевото мигане и то само,защото е неумишлено.
Виждаш как нещата се случват. Предвиждаш последиците,не не ти е работа да се месиш,нали? Не очакваш и ти да бъдеш предупреждаван,нито предпазван. Все пак възмовността да присъстваш без всъщност да оказваш каквото и да било влияние върху събитията те прави нещо като…може би е твърде рано да се стига чак до такива надменни и дори пресилени,ексценрични и безсмислено егоцентрични заключения,но все пак думата,която мислено вмъкваш след многоточието е именно „Бог“.
Да усещаш,че имаш способността,влиянието и нужните знания да промениш нещо,но да не го правиш. Да си наясно със себе си,с това колко си слаб и незначителен,но все пак недостатъчно безличен,че да бъдеш изтрит с лекота. Това е усещането да си човекът на пейката в парка,този в метрото,на улицата,който винаги е там съвсем сам,вперил поглед безизразно сякаш прево в теб и същевременно без да те забелязва проследява всяко движение на есенниете листа. Ти не винаги ще го намериш,нито ще го усетиш,но ако все пак някакво си 56 чувство ти поскаже накъде да насочия погледа си в точния момен,за да го видиш,то тогава остатъка от живота ти ще бъде пропилян в размизли – „Защо не можех да съм като него…?“