Mark

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A project.

As always, anonymous answers allowed and anticipated.

(That's seven a's for those not counting)

However, for the heck of it, to make it more fun, here's a friendly neighborhood meme:

Anonymous commenting - you know the drill.

1. Confess something horrible you've done in your lifetime.

2. Ask me a question.

3. Compliment/insult.

4. Tell me your deepest, darkest desire.

5. Tell me why you friended me (or are here) in the first place.

6. Whatever you want!
Lol, heh, that last one, at least, might be taken on up.


[I have decided to post-date this entry, so that it should always be the next to first to come up, so that all visitors are given a clear invitation to speak, if they like. And, also, so that a visitor can read why others come here, and why I endeavor to keep it publicly accessible. With the additional post-dated "Adult Content Disclaimer," this should go some extra distance toward protecting anyone coming across it (somehow) by happenstance, while still keeping the other information available to those who want to read it without having to reveal their online identity.]

As mentioned, before, I offered to participate, sort of, in the Melted Rubber Humans project.

Pursuant to this, a couple of weeks ago I submitted some sound files, one-sided ageplay scenarios between myself and "imaginary lovers" of sorts. I'd made perhaps 20 of these, but only included four or five. I've not heard back as to whether or not the person involved with the project thinks they will be making use of them.

Nevertheless, not one to let an upload go too wasted, as it were, here they are if you'd like a peek inside my head, and sound of my voice.

Included are parts of my communications with the MRH person with regard to the recordings.

( Read more... )

There's no way for me to tell if anyone downloads any of these. But if you do, and if you end up liking any of them, of course it is nice to know - even if you do not tell me who you are.

In response to this: The Pedophile Who Wants to Get Me Fired, this: All Pedophiles Are not Criminals, or Check Your Dictionary, Please

( Full Text of Both )

And so, furthermore...because I am like that, I will interrupt my reading for a moment (and be so audacious, as well, to intone in its author's voice), "dear reader," to come over here and make a note.

On the surface, and perhaps permanently thereso, but who can say, it is at best but a silly note; underneath, as I said, who can really say.

Anyway, it has been quite some long time since I quoted my grandfather, the minister. It is, I'm sure (or think I am), mere coincidence, that today also marks 40 years from the departure of his son, my father, from the home he shared with me for my first seven years.

I'm sure I've only ever quoted two of his phrases, at least one of those, perhaps both, plagiarized from the Bible. "Truth, thy word is truth," is how he began each sermon or service. That is not the one I quoted in the entry before the one before this. Rather, I quoted the second, with which he concluded, in that portion that is the delight to the ears of any pew-sitting child, each service with the offertory, when he would read, "the peace that passeth all understanding."

If I have quoted that one before, it's been at least several years.

I promised silly, and I promise I will deliver on that promise, too.

So, tonight I decided to read some more Jane Eyre. I was already about half-finished, and the book was due back this past Wednesday, so I figured I would do that rather than sit here on th e Internet. About 150 pages further in, from there at the bottom of page 528, sprang the reason for my stoppage to make this note.

Jane was thinking about one of the characters, a fairly religious man, being a parson and all, when she observed of the guy, Mr. St. John Rivers, that, all "pure-lived, conscientious, zealous" appearances aside "he had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding."

Sorry to have occupied your time with what now appears to me more silliness even than it did at the start. But now that its been written, I will let it stand - after all, you've finished reading it already, anyway.

[I forgive you, father, before you die, in case it's tonight; I forgive you, and wanted you to know, even if I couldn't find the gumption, after 40 years, to locate your number and give you a call and tell you that in person, I do.]

Then, after a bit, while I am out, I think to myself, "holy crap."

It has been a while since I have written anything of any substance.

That is not to say that that is what this entry will be: of substance. However, I do think it will be a substantial update, if nothing else.

Where to begin? Every time, I have asked that question, out loud, journal-entry style, the answer is always the same: start at the start. Where then, is that start, I wonder. At the start, where the hell else? But I am not going to back all the way up to elementary school just for this little entry. No, I’ll pare it down to just the things that matter at the moment.

Holy crap, now I realize how far behind I am.

Well, I’ll refine it down to several more manageable topics, then.

Lessee, gotta pick me some names, first – the list of names serving as a list of topics.

Local girl
SF girl
Another (that name was chosen over a year ago, now)
MRH (that’s not a girl’s name, but the name of a project that will just get a brief mention at the end)

Mkay.

( Read more... )

Alrighty, a long entry.

I’ll wrap it up by just making mention, in regard to MRH, above, that I sent some of my one-sided recordings over to this person involved in a project she (I think it’s a she) calls The Melted Rubber Humans project, which you can Google, if you are further interested.

In short, I believe she is endeavoring to incorporate the sounds of sex, of feeling, of one’s soul, as it were, into musical and video productions – but I don’t know much more about it.

[ETA; the filename, 062008.64804, is all even numbers]

This was kind of quite the day.

I'm hoping I didn't overestimate trust; sometimes, I have a tendency to do this.

I'm hoping I didn't overdo my response to Another (who wrote me a note, last night); most times, I have a tendency to do this.

I've met some awfully amazing people on here.

I haven't had a chance to write about the one in California, or the one in my own city, yet.

Maybe at some point, I will.

God, Another, I miss you.

Vote for her...just cause...

Vote for Her!

'cause she's the only user who has pedophilia on her interest list AND updates with any regularity.

And yeah, also 'cause I like girls, too - okay fine on that one.

And no, ya don't have to tell her that I have this here.

And no, there ain't no reverse psychology, there - if I wanna yap, I will.

I get over 50 visitors a day, from dozens of countries on six continents - none of these say a thing - so go over there and vote, dangit - two clicks, one to get there, one to vote - so be a peach or a good sport!

Also, for the more avid reader, here, I didn't realize until today that this journal entry was never made public, although I found it to be one I rather liked.

Remember that one Barry Manilow song?

Anyway, it started to rain on our walk back from school, this afternoon.

There are only two of these walks left before the long summer vacation.

I like when it rains.

I like this for a lot of reasons, but when it rains on our walk home from school, I like it because when she doesn't have an umbrella, she uses her back pack a shelter for her beautiful shiny blonde hair.

Then, it doesn't hang on her back, low and over her butt anymore.

This is prettiness when you are me, and she is her fourth grade self.

She, whom you've known from the time she was three, and loved forever.

She, who will never fail to make your heart ache, and do everything that could break your soul, but won't, 'cause you won't allow it, if only so you can lay it down at her feet again and again.

Pedophiles don't touch children: the hopeless and the sociopathic do.

On the island, at the light, she grins and looks up with those giant deep brown eyes from under that back pack atop her head, "I'm wearing a white shirt, too."

Her smile is so radiant, her eyes so impish, and giggling in silence, her self and soul, at 9, almost ten, with just a hint of a clue, if at all.

A serene and gentle smile back, with only one tiny glint in my eyes, "it's okay, though, you have another shirt on, underneath."

Our smiles remain, and the moment passes and something is separately shared.

Later, down the street, she struggles to get her dark pink hoodie from the pack, to keep her downy arms dry, too. "Here, I'll hold that for you," I say, taking it from her.

And for a little tiny moment, in the time it takes for her to don the garment of which I am jealous, I am carrying her books home from school, if not playing make believe she was married to me.

I'd gladly carry her home everyday, through any weather.

Whatever happened to Jamie from Florida, then North Carolina, I wonder.

What lovely she was.

The more the merrier, I say. Until this issue begins to affect a majority of the population, stupid and vote-greedy politicians will continue to pass laws which do nothing.

"Some town residents are upset that the husband of Interim Police Chief Anita Merritt is a registered sex offender, saying her relationship with a convicted felon is a conflict of interest."

Same goes for those teen exchanging nakey pics of themselves, or that 12 and 13 year old who were recently caught in a sexual encounter with one another.

Throw the (goddamn, mutherfucking) book at 'em, I say.

The sooner, the better, the more the merrier.

Or as the good Reverend Wright would say (quoting some white dude, I'll add), "the chickens...are coming home to roost."

Such a busy day, here at I-J, today.

More visitors by almost twice, than ever before.

I deleted the OKC profile for the same name.

I will make another one, eventually.

Want to sort some things out first, prioritize some things, etc.

I'm going to miss the trouble-making associated with this name, I just know it. I'm going to miss challenging people to think, even if most refuse the challenge, and walk away as if a victory's been earned via the smote of their would-be white glove, alone.

Definitely.

I am hoping that I am making this decision based upon something else besides my ultimate dreams and desires. That is to say..oh, I just don't know!!

I was going to say, that is to say that I am hoping I am making the decision (to change/delete the name) based MORE upon the idea that to maintain this name is a dangerous game, than upon the idea that to try to find a match with this name is too much a challenge, if not impossible.

But urgh, now that I've said it, I don't at all like the idea of succumbing to ignorance, of succumbing to the refusal to think beyond its 15 characters. Not that some don't think at least a little beyond the end of the name, but even then, very few, much further than that.

Laughing - yes, of course it is scary, and so are some dreams, but both just as harmless. A young poet from Atlanta once friended me on livejournal. Touched far too young, this one, and somewhat shattered and broken from that, too, she wrote in her journal of me: "glorious and frightening."

The subject line was not intended to refer to that phrase, but since I have unintendedly arrived there, I find it to be a better fit than that for which I'd originally intended it.

(A fairly jacked up sentence, I admit)

When I started this entry, it was to be as a commentary upon an uninvited IM exchange that greeted me with my first cup of coffee, this morning.

Her: your name is sickening
Me: it's just a name, you know, letters and words
Me: and besides, really, think about it, what are those words really saying?
Me: they're not saying, littlegirlrapist?
Her: that you're a pedophile...
Me: they're not saying, littlegirlhurter?
Me: have you looked up the definition of pedophile on say, dictionary.com?
Her: you should have said "little women lover" something more appropriate
Me: well, while I do like women, too...see...this name is old..
Her: then change it
Her: to read your profile you seem ok, then your screen name makes you look like a douche bag
Her: i mean seriously....think about it
Me: oh, I am going to - but you know, that’s not going to change who I am - I will still be a little girl lover
Me: but yes, it’s changing
Me: thanks for coming by
Her: you're gross
Me: not really - it just seems so, really
Me: seriously - it just seems so, from that part
Me: that's why I chose the name, in a way
*** Her's IC window is closed
Me: to challenge that idea
*** Waiting for Her to connect

(Laughing yet again - which laughter is not entirely at the tears of a clown - not this time, anyway)

The "compliment" part of the subject line was originally meant to refer to the "to read your profile you seem ok" part of that IM conversation. "OK," after all, in not an unreasonable compliment. However, I think I will take "glorious," instead, even if it comes with the "frightening" part, too.

Littlegirllover: 15 characters, gathered into one word, composed of three; all of those together meaning so much more than "ok," "glorious," or "frightening."

Is that decent sentence structure?

Soon, I will be three OKC personas, but still one man.

Even more importantly than the dictionary.com definition are the actual roots of the word, which are not confined to just the "sexual," but begin at the broader "love" word, which takes in bunches more of things, ultimately, as is the nature of mammalian things, including or arriving at sexual as well, but not eliminating the rest by any means at all.

Expanding upon that idea, and thinking (not to mention writing) for another moment or two: as a woman (or man) would you like it at all if a similar rubric were applied to the one attracted to or who loved you? Would you like, welcome the idea of distilling that attraction down to only the sexual?

You know, like this: Jack was attracted to Jill. Before too long, he fell in love with Jill. This made him a Jillophile. Soon after that, people read in various places that that meant Jack's attraction to and love for Jill was just all about the sex. Jill was not happy about this, because she thought she was more to Jack than just her tits and cunt and ass, she really did. She thought Jack loved her, and that that meant he would never hurt her in any way. Now she wondered if she was wrong. Jill was confused and it made her cry and hurt so much inside.

Anyway, yeah.

As always, thanks for coming by.

starving

[This is from this past Thursday, the 15th. At OKC, you can see who visits your profile. One of these visitors had a pretty enough picture, that I went by her place to try and figure out if there was a good reason for her having come by mine. If one existed, it was not readily apparent. So I wrote her, and we exchanged several emails over the course of the next several hours. Hers are in italics.]

Hi,

I can't see enough of your hair to talk about it - what I can see looks nice, although I'm sure you get plenty of that.

I won't listen to the Libertines until after I leave here.

Do you like Crass?

I like your profile write-up, all of it.

Your picture made me come here; what made you come to mine?

If you answer that and want to, tell me how you answered the sarcastic question, too, as the answers to the others, I think, are probably apparent?

"I went to your profile because a bunch of my buddies on here commented on your journal.

Do your sons ever bring little girls home from school for you to play with?"

Ah, gotcha, thanks for saying so. And, that's not a good sign considering the content of their comments - I will say I'm surprised these are your buddies as they don't seem to think so well as you. But then again, thinking people are hard to find, these days.

On the other, nah. The older one doesn't seem to like girls nearly as much as I do, if at all, yet. The younger has expressed some disappointment, however, that peer pressures and attitudes regarding yucky girls keeps a whole segment of otherwise would-be friends unfriendable.

Nevertheless, even if they did both like them as much as I do, and brought them here, although I am sure I would enjoy them being around the place, they wouldn't be doing that for me to play with them, since that's not at all my thing.

Smiling - yes, I confess, it is nice to think about all the same, but you already knew that.

Mark

"So what age group are you attracted to?"

All of them. As the guy in the McMartin preschool case said, "what's not to love?"

But, long ago, and for a very long time, I was..I don't know, stuck on, I guess, 8. I'm much more flexible, now. They're just lovely, all of them - females - including, I have been more than delighted to find out, under certain circumstances those well over 18.

If you asked, demanded I pick an age, for say some sort of ageplay scenario - I don't know - it would be hard, but might be something like this progression: 8, 6, 4, 10, 12, 14, with the odd numbers appropriately fit between those. In these cases, so much of some things are based upon what she (my adult lover) needs and wants, which is part of the sum of the beauty.

There's a gray area, of course, from 14 and up, and although my imagination makes those scenarios pretty, too, I'd just as soon make the jump to something more solidly at adult, as the emotional-spiritual connection is much more entirely lovely to those two.

Anyway, yes, I like them all. Why do you ask?

"Honestly, I'm just trying to figure you out. I don't really understand how a grown man could be attracted to such young girls.

So, you just make your adult lovers act like little girls? Or do you ever get physical with or around actual 8 year olds?

How would you feel if your children were treated like sex objects?"

I see. Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your candor and curiosity, both.

Believe me, however, when I tell you that I do not think you will have any more luck or success with that than I have - after all, I've got 4 decades of research into the "question" of that attraction. I won't be able to answer that question any easier than you will or any other researcher has.

It just is. You know? It just is. To analogize, think of the thing that "moves you," the thing your mind goes to when you're with your lover, or perhaps, better, by yourself and on the brink of your orgasm, of your freedom, of your release. Do you know why that is where your mind goes - to that location? Definitively? Better, would you change that? Would you renounce it? The answer might well be moot, for the question is likely "could you?"

They hate it, and I do "get" why they hate it, but at the end of the day there is exactly no fundamental difference between the questions asked of me as regards "why" and those same questions asked of homosexuals.

Any of them would tell you, "it just is." And, sure, like me, they can tell you "what" about the same gender moves them so - but not the "why." Because also, like me, if they knew why, and could, they'd probably change it - for life would be easier.

Some of these commit suicide over it, after all.

I had to smile at your question about "making" my adult lovers. The answer is "of course not." Can you imagine one of your lovers "making" you do something, and that being even remotely satisfying or fulfilling to either of you? In any case, it wouldn't be for me. No, my two real life and many cyber life lovers have all been moved by the same thing as me - or else they would never have been my lovers. They welcome it, want it, and sometimes or always, like me, need it "that way." The fulfillment part comes in at "connection," and "understanding," and really is the best thing in the whole wide world. "Can I be nine," my first in real life lover asked of me.

The funny thing in that deal is that such people, such lovers to me, couldn't be any more full-grown women if they tried with everything - there is no fantasy little girl in those transactions: there's just her, and me, and it.

Do I get physical with or around 8 year old girls? No. Do they make my heart ache at times, you bet they do. It's more than the sex about them, though: it's everything. So there is a bit of a disconnect to think I think of them as "objects" period, let alone "sex objects," because I don't. They're people, like my sons, and like me and like you. Also, and so importantly on that, they are, as they exist, no one even close to the kinds of people they are in my dreams. This is why I have long held that the laws proscribing sexual interaction between children and adults are beside the point; that even if such laws did not rightly exist, it wouldn't matter - because she'll never be that one in my dreams - ever.

My adult lovers have come much closer, if not surpassed any of those ones in my dreams - that hasn't changed those dreams at all, though.

Do I think of them, however, little girls, in my alone times, and in that totally impossibly sexy kind of way? Yes, of course I do. Again, it is me. These are pretty times, too - just a different, and more lonely kind of pretty.

Last, I'm positive that somewhere, sometime, someone has treated my children as sex objects (or perhaps something similar) in their head. These things happen every day, and my sons are very attractive. But even if their photographs were involved and not just images from memory, being me, and understanding, this of course does not bother me. My real children, after all, are not devalued by this, are not made any less pure by this, lose neither innocence nor anything else in such happenings, and in a certain and sure sense, are somehow kept a little more safe from one more person. Would I participate in such a thing, by offering their images up in any way, either via conversation or photos? Definitely not - that's not my role.

It is absolutely illogical to think that that all people who are attracted to little girls the way I am - offend. There are way, way more of us than just those who admit it and those who offend. Yes, undoubtedly plenty,as the evidence shows, do offend. A real "child lover," however, simply never does, for who would destroy the very person they love? Fewer, however, I believe, are the numbers of those like me, who in spite of all this desire a relationship, a real one, with a real adult female.

It's the only reason why I'm on OKC.

Anyway, thanks again for your rational approach.

Mark

***
I'd like to believe the journal entry she made at livejournal, five days later, which said something like "I don't think I've ever come to so many realizations all at once," had something at all to do with any of this, but I don't.

Today was bound to be dull, the price for yesterday.

I want to share something with someone.

My friend showed me this website, cam4.com - you can watch people play - but I want something more personal, I guess.

I go over there occassionally and watch, but just for a little while - because it's so impersonal, that I have a better time just looking at my own porn, really.