{"id":453,"date":"2004-05-02T01:26:00","date_gmt":"2004-05-02T01:26:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2004\/05\/02\/thursday-evening-elegant-daisychain\/"},"modified":"2004-05-02T01:26:00","modified_gmt":"2004-05-02T01:26:00","slug":"thursday-evening-elegant-daisychain","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2004\/05\/02\/thursday-evening-elegant-daisychain\/","title":{"rendered":"thursday evening: elegant daisychain"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Sophie and I parted ways at Broadway and Commercial. I walked away without a backward glance, though I admit I thought about it. Not for any reason but habit, so I would like to break the aute-response. I had&nbsp;my ghodmums&nbsp;evening to go to. I would finally after almost a year hear the final version of the DMQ.&nbsp; I have a picture I took of her reading it to me on my birthday. Not entirely appropriate, but apropos. I decided to bring her elegant flowers that reflected her grace in words. The flower stall at the Skytrain station has an odd mix of exotic flowers which I took full advantage of. I settled on two, then paid the woman to step aside so that I may arrange them and wrap them in ribbon as I desired them. Plum and violet blue and beautiful desirable. Exactly as I wished I could be.<\/p>\n<p>On the train I was useful to strangers, one of which I think wanted to know me. She was pretty in a feminine tomboy sort of way, with a green knitted bra-top and baggy cutoff corduroys. I wanted to make earrings for her. Little men that would hang from her ears like the fellow&nbsp;I used to have dangle. Not as lost in fantasy as I was in anticipation, I left at my stop and proceeded to Lick with a quick drop by for batteries. I arrived first. No-one else was there, nor would be for another twenty minutes. The girls a the door spent a few minutes trying out stamps on me for later, but I decided that I would rather sit in the sun at the terraform park than sit in the dark with strangers. I had a book to read and pictures to sort. They didn&#8217;t seem to offer anything, all lost in pre-event conversation. <\/p>\n<p>In the park I continually checked my watch, seeing if enough time had passed yet. It was like time had pulled like old fashioned taffy. It would snap at any moment. I would have waited that &#8216;just&#8217; too long and missed something in my eagerness. I finally left after twenty minutes of eating cold stones. I could say my reasons have to do with physics, but it&#8217;s more likely the heat of fusion burning skin.&nbsp; There was that fear what happens when you are alone and going to a strange land. I sat by the empty fireplace the first fifteen minutes after re-arriving because I couldn&#8217;t see my table in the dark. I had hoped to see them as they came in, but I found them when&nbsp;the Lady of the Evening&nbsp;got up to greet an old friend. Everyone I expected to know there were&nbsp;sitting fancy already. Spike and Elaine, and&nbsp;the fetching&nbsp;new roomate all arrived together. Being welcomed and knowing I belonged was a wonderful&nbsp;sensation. A slipping into place.&nbsp;When the raffle began we were the loudest table. <\/p>\n<p>The show officially started with a slender girl on the low stage with chocolate cake.&nbsp; We missed the very beginnig, as there was no fan-fare or call for attention. It was brought to my attention in time for her to peel on the condom and insert herself into the cake. It wasn&#8217;t particularly interesting, but the concept was amusing, as was the first half of the congress. She orgasmed excitedly with a spurting can of spray whipping cream. Then it went on too long as she proceeded to do it all over again. The conversation picked up again and it was a relief when she cleaned up. Cake was handed out, and I must admit &#8211; if I had known the girl onstage, I would have been for more likely to accept a mauled piece.<\/p>\n<p>Silva was the first recitation. The DMQ: the Do Me Queen. &#8220;People keep&nbsp;passing&nbsp;this off as a&nbsp;piece of fiction&#8221;. It was a winsome piece, full of humour and honesty. My favorite passage is in the first page of text, the first ten minutes of speech. <em>&#8220;I&#8217;d push needles through her nipples and then wrap one end of a piece of heavy string around the needles and the other end around my wrist. The I&#8217;d fuck her with my fist; hard and deep, until the blood from her pierced breasts mixed together on her belly with my sweat.&nbsp; I liked that. I liked everything I did to her. I really, really, liked to fuck her. I could bury my arm inside her halfway to my elbow &#8211; and, when I did, like my friend Rita, from the elbow down, I was home.&#8221;<\/em> Her piece was about love and where it comes from. About relationships and how they sometimes just don&#8217;t work. She made us laugh. Everyone that night made us laugh. Everyone had something with&nbsp;joyfulness in it. Everyone was a perfect performer.<\/p>\n<p>We didn&#8217;t hang out much afterwards. We were all tired and all of us had beds to go to. I walked them to the Van, taking pictures as I did so. I also accidently stole her script, for which I hope she&#8217;ll forgive me. I was glad to see her. Amused to be her daughter for the evening.&nbsp; Happy to know that I&#8217;ve been healing.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Sophie and I parted ways at Broadway and Commercial. I walked away without a backward glance, though I admit I thought about it. Not for any reason but habit, so I would like to break the aute-response. I had&nbsp;my ghodmums&nbsp;evening to go to. I would finally after almost a year hear the final version of &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2004\/05\/02\/thursday-evening-elegant-daisychain\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;thursday evening: elegant daisychain&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-453","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/453","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=453"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/453\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=453"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=453"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=453"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}