Vice

So I'm invited to the NZ vice christmas party.... And I don't know if I should to go or not. After spending so many years avoiding situations where I might feel uncool or out of place, this pops up. The Cool of indie cool. Maybe I'm scared I'll like it, maybe I'm still the weird kid. The party will be filled with all different likes of people, most I don't know, so I know I won't stick out. I won't be recognisable, not in that uber cool, well dress flock of extroverts. This may then be my perfect opportunity for me to dress up and meet some people, I'll just be a face in the crowd. If I can get over the crowd factor and try and have a sip of alcohol to let my legs lose I could do it. Come on say it with me now, "I can do it". Then what do you wear to such an event. It's the one time I am not going to look over dressed, no matter how excited I get. But still... FUCK. I promised to try and take every opportunity that came my way, to take advantage of the contacts I have, to finally make a name for myself, to be proud of who i am, proud enough to let the public judge. And why shouldn't I, why should I have to be so protective of what other people think of me, why is it my problem? I'm not a violent, abusive, harmful or vile person, so I shouldn't be locked up, not even in my own head. So I'll plan to go and hope to enjoy the experience, even if thats all it is, an experience...

Inspiration and Giggles

Ten-year-old tourist girl wearing pink Crocs: Smoking is bad for you!
Smoking queer: Crocs are for retarded kids who can't tie their own shoes.


Lou has said: "I know I'm dressed wrong if the businessman turns his head. But I like to think that after an hour of sitting next to me on the train, he'd look. I'd have grown on him."
Lou Dillon

"One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, too rare to die."
Hunter S. Thompson

Queer on cell: I know... I know! Gosh, that is sooo gay!
(bewildered elderly lady looks at him)
Queer to elderly lady (in shrieking voice): Oh my god, oh my god, the faggot said gay!

“Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.”

- Tyler Durden in Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk


Huge man to small child trying to participate in conversation: No, son, we're not talking about your school--we're talking about Bam! You trying to get all up in the Kool-Aid, but you don't even know the flavor.

Sometimes I wish I could be a total fuck up. Drugs, Sex and Rock and Roll. I know its not right to say but don't you see people on TV high, drunk, fucking, stumbling, wearing the best clothes and being oh so herion chic. I don't do drugs (hard) but I've read lots of books trying to feel the feeling. Of complete freedom. When your totally off your face, and your memory is blurred, when even your present day is blurred you have no responsibility. No one expects much from you. It may not be in a good way but you are free of pressure to behave. I'd like to have smudged make-up, tits popping out, ciggy in hand, drink spilt on my lap. I would speak in a soft voice, a sweet smelling red voice, I would move my lips slowly and pout as I talked. I would smoke, a lot. I'd leave butts behind with a ring of lip stick. I'd flick them, or stomp them with my shoe. I would smoke lady cigarettes and have a classy lighter. My handbag would have sequins and hold my life. People would dance with me, laugh with me and kiss with me. I would have a Darling, and a Sweetness, some Babies, I would always say them with my wine laced voiced that was just a bit too slow. My voice would deepen overnight. By the morning I would be a creature. Strewn across couches, drinking hard liquor in the morning. Maybe a coffee but the afternoon. But thats just to wash down the dust. I would snot the dust, the powder, I'd even have a pill or two. If you offer it I'll take it. This version would have straight hair, exstentions, wear lacey panties all the time, I'd either grow or buy some bosoms. If I had the money for the drugs I'd have the money for me. I'd be a high maintenance gal. Long nails and expensive perfume. My phone would go all the time, I'd curse like a Bitch. Your man is/was my man.

But I'd die lonely, young and with some horrible STD's.

Don't expect too much

Never tell someone who is naturally slender that they look really skinny, that they should eat. Unless you know they have a problem. It is so insulting and so hard to hear it all the time. I'm sorry that the majority of the population has to watch their weight, but I am fortunate enough to be able to eat bakery pies and cream doughnuts when ever the fuck I want. I have no worry in my head that I will get fat, or close to it. I don't exercise, other than sex. And it's not like I'm always have jumping, grinding, riding, throwing, exhausting sex. But I don't feel too guilty. I'll do a squat ever so often, usually while I'm brushing my teeth but I'm not sweating over these things. I have to wonder if when people say I'm looking good or healthy that I'm looking a bit more pudgy. Fuck what am I meant to do?! Eat and eat till I hurt. Eat when I'm not hungry. Eat disgusting shit that feels like it sits and decomposes father than digests in your stomach. I'm sure people see it coming. It's not like you just wake up and your much too big. I have such a luxury. I am thankful that I can wear almost anything. It comes down to long thin legs in the end I think. I am completely flat chested, which stops me from wearing certain shirts, but hey I'm a bit of all right. I have a curvaceous lower half, my baby basket. And my skin is soft. Soft skin is one thing that every woman, lady, girl, female, or effeminate person should have. No matter how big, small, round, flat, anything, as long as your skin is soft and inviting to stroke it doesn't matter. And looking after the biggest organ on/in your body is an amazing feeling. It gives you time to look after yourself, and to touch yourself. That five minutes you spend, rubbing your legs, from shin to knee. I do both shins first to leave the best for last. Thighs. You have to rub in all the spots where your prone to stretching and all the lame things that come with aging. But those spots are the most sensitive. On your thigh just before it turns into your hip, slide over the rim of my basket and all down until I get my inner thigh. Its such a pleasure to be a female and to have such a soft and gently curving body. Not for my own personal sexual enjoyment in anyway but as comfort. I am so proud of my sensual body, but I don't see it as a reason to be soft and sensual to the World. I am a woman. I have breasts as small as they may be, I have a fruit (I'm am still thinking of an appropriate word for womans bits. hmm) and I certainly have the pieces needed to make a baby. All of my amazing soft parts, my bodily fluid, my moist and wet places, the smell which is only slight, all of these things are a big privledge for someone. What we are giving is the one thing you put work into every second of everyday. I keep my body beautiful for me, and sometime I like to share it with someone else. But it will always be mine. My feminine body. But I am not going to act like the woman someone wants me to be. I have never been the type to giggle and flirt and a slutty little slut face, I don't get my hair done, I like to watch video games, and I'll have a wrestle with you if your not too hard. I've always been the guys mate, that chick who just hangs out. I've always bitten my nails. Had trouble in skirts. Got scars on my knees. Said whatever the fuck I wanted, in the a very un lady like manner. I don't have trouble with guys talking bout girls, drinking, farting, spewing, and doing all their other rank shit. I feel like when I try and act like a lady I am either at work, when I am just starting and trying to fit into this 'Hello, I'm Deanna....' SHIT or I talking to someone and I'm scared, I'm anxious. When I feel weak and submissive. I am fucking strong and dominating!!!! I am now trying to speak in my normal amazing and clear and medium toned voice. I Deanna from now on will be conscious of how I am talking. Fuck, I'm sure most people would be telling me to starting thinking about what words come out of my mouth rather than how I say them. But thats me, I have a amazing way of talking so clearly and confidently, that I'm charming enough to get away with it.

Initial thoughts

would I be the big spoon or the little one? Am I the masculine one? It would be like being a virgin again. She would have to be delicate in some way; skinny or long hair, tidy nails or long socks, precious nipples or a button mole, a soft scent or supple skin.



I would happen in good lighting. Maybe dusk..Or an evening with a pink glow. Both fresh, clean and sweet smelling. Slightly moist and sticky from creams and oils. Maybe she would wear heels if she had the ankles. We would whisper when we talked. Even when it was loud, but we only hear each other. Her lips would move slowly when she talked. We would dress recognizsbly . We would rub each others bellys and backs every month. We could pick each others shampoo so we could spoon and enjoy the aroma. We would both wake close covered in clean salty sweat. It would taste so refreshing. Who will wear the pants? We would nap together and wake each other with tea..



We could drive then sleep in the car all snuggled up. I'd take her to the Coast and show them hose who. We would eat off one plate. Ant fit on one chair. Watch tv under a quilt. We would have code words and our own language. And always say goodnight. We would wear singlet and Y fronts to bed. And have white sheets. And light candles. And in incense, Maybe she would wear glasses? I could wear hats, would that make me the masculine one?

We would have turns wearing a mask. We could be mistaken for giggling whispering touching young best friends. But our age and maturity would make people rethink and conclude on lovers. We would be soft and cuddle and make love and be warm.


Together...