I’m back from Havana and New York. It’s freezing in my part of the world. I’ve been keeping the fire going and splitting logs – with a SPLITTER – which is fun.
I used to think a splitter was a little device made of metal and black plastic, a thing you use to separate an electronic signal into two more or less equal streams. It still is, though they’re not used much any more: there are better technological fixes for that.
But no-one’s ever going to improve on the splitter you use on wooden logs. Essentially it’s an absurdly blunt – and very heavy – axe. When you hit a log, and you get the splitter into the wood grain, and the splitter goes through the log, and the two parts of the log each fly off in different directions…
Well, it’s better than using the other kind of splitter to wire both the lounge and your bedroom for sound, but it’s not remotely as good as sex. That should help you to triangulate the splitter-using buzz.
It’s not ecstasy but it’s pretty good, wielding a big heavy splitter till the wood starts yielding. (As it will without shielding.) And the moment when the big log turns into two smaller logs, each one flying through the air, well, that’s not as good as an orgasm. But maybe it’s up there with a sneeze.
I smashed my cellphone the other day, too. It fell out of my new Jeep – portrait of the dom as a consumer, this post is – and that turns out to be further to fall than from a normal car. So it died. I’ve got a new phone, but I’ve lost a few numbers.
Maybe that’s a good thing. I keep acting on obligations I feel to people for historical reasons, when I don’t really enjoy their company, or anything else about them. (Having posted this, I’m going to have to make contact with all the people I do care about, cause I don’t mean you.)
Oh God, I know what you mean! I’ve gone from thinking I couldn’t live without my phone to wishing someone would just steal it already, so I could lose all those “historical obligations”!
Well, a phone is a great blessing, most of the time. You use it to play Tetris or something, and ignore other people in trains, buses and lifts.
If you’ve just tied or reddened the skin of a bad girl, or boy if you prefer, you can whip out your phone and take pictures. Some of the shots, and movies, I’ve taken on my phone are (I think) beautiful and sexy. They don’t go on the internet, though.
Getting calls from people you don’t really want to talk to is the drawback. Maybe we should have phones that do everything except make or receive phone calls?
I don’t have the axe kind of splitter but think I still have one of those little metal and plastic ones. And I have your number and you have mine.
Well, you do replace the names that matter. But there were people’s phone numbers in there, whose names and persons I could not remember.
Including girls, which is a great shame in me. (Though I am certain I’ve never forgotten someone I’ve fucked. But the “flirted a couple of years ago, and never got round to following it up” phone numbers are worth losing.)
For you, Gretel I wasn’t thinking of a splitter, so much. More like a spreader.
Ah well, it’s a bit of a forced decluttering, and that’s not a bad thing. I’d expect that if you’ve lost anyone who matters, they’ll be in touch.
Yes, a spreader would be rather more appropriate.
If “appropriate” is the right word in the context.
Well, a girl can never put her ankles too far apart, which is why the spreader bar was invented. Pity you can’t order rum babas (whatever they are) at a spreader bar, though.
A spreader bar is always perfectly appropriate, like a little black cocktail dress. They mean the woman is certain she looks great (cunt display! wriggling! writhing muscles!) once the dom has attached one to her spread ankles. That’s more romantic than chocolate and flowers.
And there’s no way of looking less good, once you’ve gone the spreader bar route. The only downside is that, in my experience, a male dom will take them off very early in any fuck. Because they hurt the dom’s shins. By “the dom” I mean “me”.