Sitting amongst the heaps

Piles of a life. Piles of books, condoms, wigs, rope, and memories. The last few months have been tremultuous for me, and yet have been some of the most energized and passionate in ages. I refuse to offer some of these things up to the neon light of analysis, but must write about them, thank the gods for locked posts and pads of paper.I keep wanting to write tales, tell the tales, and yet, I can't. Maybe once I'm on a break in the dance. Maybe once- and then no, the dance goes on.Stares can rip you apart. The wide eyes and dissaproving glares of someone who walks into the most personal and surreal of moments as Zoo did her makeup. The show friday night at Hellfire Club Sydney was amazing, Zoo, Preston and I did the most passionate, hot performance- two demons taking down a factory refitted virgin with rope, slaps, punches, grabs, suspension, and needles through her face that bled like crazy- all to "My Sacfirice" by Creed. Fuck. I am so energized about stage shows. I am so energized about having someone to thug with. Zoo blew me away- fuck that girl is amazing.I hit the wall, I hit the panic wall, I ran. I ran through the club in unlaced boots out into the night from the sauna of a back room, mind spinning and stomach heaving, have to have to have to go. I hit the fresh air and curled up in a ball against the wall, leting myself go deep inside. Somehow my tongue ended up on his boot, on her boot, on bottles of water and slowly I regrounded back into myself. Fuck this, I have to be me, fuck this, I have to have to scream let me just scream let me let me be.Will we look back at paths untaken and wonder what if?I heard her growl in my spine, knew I had to get my ink done.I've wanted to get bear paw prints on my body since I was 12 or 13 years old. I finally have them.After I grounded back down, into him, into me, into her, into all of me, let me be me, give me food. I'd gone from panic and breath and fear and strength into a sugar crash and had to eat NOW. Daddy Nick and Preston took me out for burgers, fries and soda, and we flirted with cute girls there. I grabbed Preston's drink and downed it down before noticing what it was. 32oz of full throttle coca cola later, I was wired. I haven't had more than a few bites of caffeine worth of choclate in a year and a half or so... and no serious amounts in 5 years. I was wired, and back at Hellfire upstairs I la danced, jazz danced, slid across the floor on fire to jazz music for 8 or 9 songs straight like a bitch beast on fire dancing with my cunt forward. I chair danced, swung, flew, and gods yes I really can dance if I just let go.I went back to DV8House, crashed, and in the morning got ready for my classes. Both went excellent, Breath Play and Punching Kicking- but I need to share the punching class.Preston had asked to reearn his black hankie.http://gaycityusa.com/HANKYCODES.htmFor those unaware of the hankie code, there ya go... Black means Heavy S/M. I took him seriously, just as he needed, and gave him what he needed. Before classes began in the morning I fucked with his head, fuck yeah boy, you owe me money don't you? But during class we worked first through psychology of punching and kicking, my history with it, and then safer punching, kicking and slapping techniques with bare fists, hands and feet (or basic boots)- with a guest bottom appearance by Cub who did the pinching segment for his leather brother. Then into tools. The further we got in, the worse I got, the harder I got, til I was hitting him full force with heavy wooden spoons, rubber tubing, fists... slapping him in the face, then punching him in the side of the face, then head butting him til he saw stars... the blows kept coming. He backed away, he came back, he backed away, he came back to me. Then the psychological warfare began and just as he thought he kept his cool at the worst I was willing at throwing at him in public (I threw worse at the hospital on Sunday), the fags in the back row drew in a deep breath and gasped, and Preston snapped. He rushed me and threw me up onto the stage, threw me down, and just as he was about to hit me full on in the face I said what I hoped he needed to hear, what I knew he needed to hear- the truth. Every line had been truth, but some truths are hard and some reinforce the spirit. His fist slammed down into the stage with his knuckles almost bloody and he leaned in, held me up, kissed me so hard. After the class he whispered in my ear and I finished the last round, talking to him while I hit his face til the side swelled up and turned purple just slightly, and he let go. I put him back together and formally gave him his hankie in front of a few of his people and mine.More tales later, back to packing.