I have some strange news. I met this guy, well, actually I didn't meet him, not yet. But I was trawling on that internet friend site for people I know in B, old college friends, etc. And I found this guy, Jared, his page looks really interesting. I sent him a message. And he responded. I said that I liked his nose. My penchant for large majestic noses baffles my friends. And he responded that he liked his nose, too, that it's a family nose. So we got to chatting, he works as an actor in a big show here. I told him I want to meet him and gave him my cell number. Fuck, if my friends knew I did that they would kill me! So, he called and I'm going to meet him in a cafe. I mean, what's the harm, we talk about the music we like, art maybe, and then I never see him again. So what, no big deal, but maybe I'll like him. Whatever. I'll see how this goes. I don't think I'm making the biggest mistake of my life or anything.

I feel ike I'm launching myself into my new life. I'm going to start looking for apartments this weekend. I need to be free. Only, hopefully to be imprisoned in a different way. Okay, cool it, I have to be slow about things. This is not something to do with just anyone. But what, exactly? Do I want to find my own Rene, my own Sir Steven? I guess what I want right now is to experince something, try out something, to see if an experience would enlighten me more than just reading a book.

I wonder sometimes if I had tried this with Julian, but I really shouldn't think about that, he still has his hooks in me, and he would probably want to be the one beaten anyway. Today, after thinking about the book, I got a piece of bamboo from the garden behind the condo building. It was holding up a plant that really didn't need it anymore, I hope the neighbors didn't see me. I took it inside and washed off the dirt, took it in the bathroom and hit myself with it in front of the mirror. It didn't feel like anything so I pulled down my jeans and panties and hit myself on my ass. And then harder. It wasn't that good, but I kind of got a feeling for how good it could be if someone else was doing it to me. I want to be O. The more I think about it, the more I want it. I want to never wear panties again, to have my clothes made at the specifications of a lover, to be possessed so completely. I get turned on just thinking about it. It makes me feel good about my body to think about being possessed by someone else, to be loved so much, to be thought of like that. Maybe that's a narcissistic fantasy and that's all, but I don't think so.

When I was a kid I had so many fantasies about being taken away, to a different place where the rules are different, where I could act out and scream and express myself without having to be quiet and keep everything inside all the time. Where I would feel loved in a different way, in a more specific, personal, strange way. And when I was older, those fantasies became more complicated, I imagined castles, men and women who were mean and then nice to me. When I was 15 I started creating this fantasy that I would think about every night to go to sleep. I was in a castle, I was held there in chains, and then I escaped the chains and ran out of the room where I was being kept and ran down halls and around corners. I would usually fall asleep after a few turns in the hall. But over the years the room where I was kept got a bed, a bed with curtains, a rug, more details, and I had on different clothing every time. I would pick out my clothes before I was a captive and escaped. And I ran down the halls, not away from the room, but rather to someone, someone I never saw. Every night I looked and looked and then fell asleep. So, now, these things start to come together in an amazing way. Somehow, I almost can't believe it. I am going to have to ask myself hard questions sooner or later, like am I a masochist? But not yet, and even then, maybe I'll find the answers before I have to ask the questions.