Monday, December 28, 2009

Doodoo 5


. . .





Two days ago I had another strange dream. I was living in an orphanage with my mother. She looked just like my real mother, but in this case she was a little person and my adoptive mother. All the other kids were also little people, but I was my regular size. For some reason, everyone was dressed in brilliant shades of indigo and cerulean. The kids were all singing an unfamiliar song in a language I couldn't understand, and there were subtitles in my dream which I couldn't read. My mother was in a rocking chair, holding me in her lap. I was sobbing and telling her how much I loved her and how grateful I was that she had adopted me. I think it's a guilt dream. My brother and I keep having to postpone visiting our mother, and it's been a while since I've seen her. Well technically she visited me in June, but I was knocked the fuck out from leg surgery and so loopy that I don't remember any of it. We've been talking a lot more recently, which pleases me. I always worry that I won't have anything to say or report to her, but I've found a fool-proof topic: cooking. I have her to thank for my interest in cooking, and I've realized there's always bonding to be done over variations on hollandaise sauce.

Swollen. . . Turgid. . . Tumescent?




Since the last time I posted about the gay fantasy books I planned on reading, I've finished the trilogy. I have mixed feelings about the Kirby Crow Scarlet and the White Wolf series. The overall story was interesting enough to keep me reading but certainly not riveting. I recommend them as good shit books. Keep them by your toilet to peruse while you relieve yourself. What's it called when you masturbate while taking a dump? I'm sure there's a word for it. The sexual tension between the main characters in the first book was drawn out and well played. Their love is almost believable. It made more sense than the Twilight books, and I guess that's good enough for me. They didn't have sex until the second book, and I thought it would be a hot reward after waiting so long, but it was awkward. Previous encounters mentioned noticing someone's rigid "sex," "members" other such typical romance book language that attempts to validate erotica. When the time came for Scarlet and his wolf (not a literal wolf, thank you, that's a whole nother genre) to. . . consummate their relationship, bitch brought it to the gutter. She busted out words like "cock" and "cum." I felt disappointed that she remained classy for so long only fall right into cock talk. Not that it wasn't hot, it just wasn't cohesive to how the rest of the story was told. I only had a couple other problems with the books. First of all, there were contradictions in descriptions everywhere. One sentence a man looks nothing like his evil brother, then two sentences later they bear a striking resemblance that is uncanny. I blame the editor. Then Ms. Crow (yes, miss. it may surprise you to know that the majority of gay romance and yaoi authors are female) nuked the motherfucking fridge. She went straight up Anne Heche-Celestia and threw in an alien twist at the end. Why? Why did you have to do that? Isn't it enough that a giant Viking king is fucking a magical elf?

Doodoo 4