Archive for October, 2015

Seeing Purple

Saturday, October 31st, 2015

Apprehensively, I stared out the window. It was there… out there, somewhere. It was waiting.

Yes, it was unmistakable. It was coiled and ready.

Staring outside, I felt so forlornly the foreign foreboding in myself… and the bleak night air. It was in the trees, so fatigued, thin and feeble against the stern winds, and in the omnivorous clouds, so smothering, dark and ominous. It was in the necrotic cacophony of the shrill, ghostly, wind-warped screams of the highway traffic- a grim symphony that traveled so far on this, the darkest and loneliest of Halloween nights.

It seeped and seeded itself in everything, all around, everywhere. It shrouded me and the house in a cloak of gothic submission.

In the vast intimidating distance, the purple twilight filled the blackened sky. Up far above, purple lightning flashed between heavy clouds.

I opened the window to breathe the air. As the darkness creeped in, I felt it press heavily upon my pallored skin. It was cold, so very, bitterly cold, but also clingy, wet and humid. It felt like I was standing at the door of some arctic furnace.

I released my gaze to wander on the concrete sidewalks below. No kids remained. It was late, now. Too late for them, although a small trove of dropped lollipops was evidence that they had been here, at this empty house, earlier today. The last group was forced to hurry home to escape the incoming tempest. One must have dropped a handful of the purple pops on her way out and not had the chance to go back for them. Poor kid.

I was shocked out of my somber ruminations when I heard a tapping, as if someone was gently rapping, rapping on the front door below. The incessant hollow knocking of my unexpected visitor pierced the gloom and illuminated the enveloping emptiness. Surprised and concerned, I gently peered out the window at the front door below.

There… stood a solitary girl, sullen and shivering in a purple overcoat.

Shocking. Who was this?! Who would be out there, now, braving the storm that was coming? Who could this forlorn figurine- this unfortunate, somber, lonely figurine- possibly be?

Shocking. She was too old to be a lost child, but too young to be a lost adult. She had a purpose, here.

I called out to her, and she slowly turned her head upwards to meet me, her faint gaze barely matching my own. She whispered a quiet, melancholy response that was overwhelmed and carried away by the swirling winds’ necromantic howls.

Try as I might, I couldn’t make out who it was. Her hair was shrouded by her purple hood, and there was little light with which to make out a flash in her eyes.

But I could see something: it must have been raining already. Cute streaks of purple adorned her beautiful, makeup caked cheeks. But… no, it couldn’t be raining! There were no puddles! And the window was still dry. This girl was… she was…

Crying. She was crying and in pain. She needed me… for something.

I slammed my window shut and bolted, carefully, downstairs. The power was out, so I made sure to not touch anything unwanted on the way down. All that I could see was what was allowed by the purple auras shining through the house from the twilit outside.

I hesitated before the door.

If I opened it, I thought, I would invite trouble in. With the storm coming, was that wise? With everything in my life the way it is now, was that smart? But… what if this girl was someone I knew? Someone I loved?

I righted myself and turned the handle. I turned it slowly, deliberately, and with heavy trepidation.

But turned it I did.

The door opened with a feral, ferocious jolt. A powerful column of arctic air pushed it open ahead of my wishes, and shoved the girl, still crying, into my cold-bitten arms.

“Tom…” She sobbed in betwixt weakening whimpers. “I… LOVE… you.”

It was Taylor!

Shocked, but relaxed, I kissed her forehead and stammered a stunned comfort. “Tay… Tay… I love you too, dear”. I sighed. The door was still open, and Nature was freezing us both in each other’s warming arms. “Tay… what are you doing here?”

Outside, the dark front’s pressure and overpowering purple overcast pressed down upon us both.

“Oh, Tom…” She stopped talking- as there was no need to. Her tears finished the story as they painted their purple rivulets down her prettily scrunched face.

“There, there, Taylor. I love you, dear.”

“No. No…” She sniffled- forcefully. “No… you DON’T.”

“What do you mean? Of course I do. You’re my Taylor.” The door was still open, and Taylor’s tears were freezing on her cheeks, creating wet icicles. I kissed them, to make them warm.

“What… are you doing? Stop.” She fidgeted. “STOP.” I refused. “STOPPPPPP IIIIITTT!!!!”

As purple streaks of lightning alighted the dire skies above and crashed down with pagan fury in the yard, Taylor pushed me away. Free from my grasp, she stood in front of me, aloof and affronting with spiteful pride.

Shocking. I’d never seen her like this. Not ever. “Taylor?”

“You… don’t… LOVE me.”

A wrathful Nature buffeted us both with gales of ferocious shears. The frostbitten air pierced our clothes, making us both naked.

Outside, the winds howled, louder than ever.

I advanced to her and reached out. She withdrew. As my hand got close to her… it turned, grabbed the door handle, and slammed the door shut. Hard.

“How DARE you.” I calmly started. “How many years have I watched over you? How many years have I supported you? How many times have I kissed you? Helped you? Confided in you? Poured my heart out to you?” I stopped, and gathered myself. “How many times have I let you into my soul?”

“Why… aren’t you with me?”

“What? With you? You mean, like physically? Because… I don’t know. I’m not ready.” I sighed. “Maybe you’re not ready, either.”

“You’re supposed to be my man. You’re supposed to be there for me and my family, and you’re not.” She inspected me. “Are you immortal?”

Um, okay. Weird transition. “I don’t know, really. I mean, I’m a person, like you, I guess. I mean, mostly. I mean I might be mixed with something else, like, I don’t know, an angel, or a demon, or…” I stopped, and then resumed again, reservedly. “Or an alien, or something. I don’t know. But I’m like mostly human. So I guess not.” I looked at her, quizzically. “What does me being immortal or not have to do with our relationship, anyways?”

She fidgeted, shifting her weight between her feet. “Could you… help my mom? With her cancer?”

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“So?” She looked up, sternly. “Why haven’t you tried?”

“Um, I don’t know.” Actually, that was a very good question. This time, it was my turn to fidget. “Maybe I was waiting for some kind of communication? I mean, you could have asked. You know, and said please.” I smiled, invitingly.

“Tom…” Taylor advanced and reached out. I walked forward and clasped her clammy hand. As my hands closed around hers, she slipped it out and slapped me on the face with atrocious force. As she hit me, purple droplets flew off her angry cheeks and showered me.

“Tom, this isn’t cute. Not at all. This ISN’T FUNNY. My mom is hurting right now, we all are, and you have a JOB TO DO. You’re my man and you’re supposed to HELP MY FAMILY.”

I was stunned. Uneager to escalate, I apologized. “Oh, sorry.”

“And ANOTHER thing.”

Uh oh.

Her syrupy cheeks were purple with rage.

“You’re really slutty, you know that? I mean, it’s ridiculous, Tom. You have sex with EVERYONE and it’s obvious that you can’t stop. You’re an addict. It’s obvious that you’re addicted to sex and black magic and jerking off and porn and evil and public exhibitionism and everything else and everyone can see it but you and that’s WRONG.”

Slutty, huh? Oh REALLY? I wiped her warm makeup off my cheeks with my sleeve and glowered at her. “Please. I’m not an addict. I’m a dictator. I hold your life and career in my hands, and I may do as I please with both.” I smirked. “And that goes for your friends, too.” I smirked again. “AND your enemies. So don’t piss me off, K?”

“Sometimes you act like a desperate whore.”

“I’m the smartest and most powerful man on Earth, Taylor. You are nothing to me. Your money is beneath me. Your EVERYTHING is beneath me.” I smirked again, this time with royal force. “Well, except for Meredith. She’s cool. You should learn from her, Tay. She knows how to keep her cool. She’s better at that than you, at least.” As I said this, I instinctively put my hand on my hip, and my fingers touched the scars Meredith left me. I could feel them easily, even through my clothes- they were purple indentations that were odd, obvious and unsightly. I so hated having to hide them to avoid questions. I’ll need to hide them from Tay now, too, I guess.

“And ANOTHER thing.” I continued, with a concentrated scowl. “Who’s the slut, here, really? I’m not the one that parades around in short shorts every day for the paps and skin tight stripper outfits every night on stage for the fans.”

“You’re the ONLY person I sleep with, and everyone knows it, Tom. And you know, that is DESPITE your attempts to make me as slutty as you. I’m a good girl. I’m not you and never will be.” She sighed. “I don’t know. It must have been the way you were raised.”

Hey- how DARE she?!?! “Okay. THAT’s it. You’re leaving and leaving now!”

I grabbed her left wrist and opened the door with my other hand. She quickly reached out with her free hand, grabbed the enormous bucket of candy by the door, and dumped it on my head. A shower of grape lollipops, gumballs and Starburst forced me to close my eyes, and I let loose her held hand. Taylor took advantage and pushed me. I slipped on some gumballs and fell backward, on top of the pile of candy.

Taylor jumped on top of me, sending the lollipops flying in all directions.

“TAYLOR. WHAT…” I spit Starburst at her. One smacked her in the eye.

“OW. FUCK YOU, TOM.”

“Sorry, I…”

“Fuck YOU!!!!” She slapped me.

I reached into her hoody and yanked her hair.

“OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW fuck you fuck you fuck YOU FUCK…”

“Taylor! Stop!!” As I pulled on her hair, I could see it clearly, now that it wasn’t obscured by her hoody. It was darker now, with a shade of purple in it. So… she wasn’t blonde anymore. I wondered what that meant.

She bit my hand.

“OW BITCH!”

I pinched her arm as hard as I could. “AHHHHHH!” She released my hand. I then grabbed a handful of Starburst and shoved them, still wrapped, into her mouth.

“FTHFTHUKKK YOOOOO!”

She spit them back at me.

With one hand, I shielded myself, and with the other, yanked again on her hair.

“AAAAHHHH!!!!” She rolled over to try to get away, taking me with her. We came to a stop with me on top of her.

We both paused to catch our breath. I planted my hands on the floor around her neck.

“Taylor… what has gotten into you?!?!”

“I just want OUT!!!!”

I didn’t get why. Didn’t she have the life she’d always dreamed of? “Out? Of what?”

She looked at me with eyes that couldn’t say. Maybe she didn’t know, herself.

I certainly didn’t… but…

I palmed her forehead to draw out her subconscious thoughts. She was hurt, a bit trapped… by the pressures of fame? By her family? Her mom’s condition? All of those, a little. And by… her money? Interesting. I didn’t expect that. And also by me. And she was disappointed… in something. But what?

“Tom, don’t. Seriously!!! Tom, get off of me!” She started pounding on my chest, trying to break my concentration.

I pinned her down with my bodyweight. Now, string bean that she is, she couldn’t move.

“STOP. Tay. I’m just trying to help.”

She was defeated, for now, and she knew it. She stopped moving save to breathe, and I raised myself off of her and continued to read her subconsciousness- To read those thoughts that she didn’t want read by anyone, including herself.

I closed my eyes and delved deep. My powers are stronger in person than they are over a distance, and I knew her very well, so this would be easy. She sighed and relaxed and let me read… her childhood, and the pressure she often felt then be perfect. To not let her parents down. The nerves she had, sometimes, about performing- nerves that she hid so well from everyone, including herself, sometimes. And about the hidden, dark things, including her past drug use, and her fascinating sexual history with others, some of which would shock her fans. She isn’t entirely what her image suggests, I guess. It was interesting. Very much so.

I then went deeper, and started to toy with the really hidden stuff, but before I locked the connection I felt like I was having sex, probably because… I was? I opened my eyes. What the fuck?

Taylor had for some reason reached down into my lounge pants and was running her soft fingers all over my apparently hard dick.

Okaaaay. This was good.

“Fuck me, Tom.” She leered at me with a seductive, succubus gaze. She batted her seditiously sultry purple eyes at me and sexily licked her finger… for some reason. I didn’t get it. This was welcome and wonderful, but… weird. Why was she doing this? This transition was bewildering.

I mean, of course I was going to take her up on the offer, but I was still confused.

I pretended to be non-committal. “Why? I thought you hated me now. I’m the biggest slut in the world, remember?”

“Oh Tom, you ARE the biggest slut in the world. That’s why I want you, baby.” She exhaled with powerful salacious force. “You fuck alllll the celebrities. And you know how that turns me on.” Outside, the wind whispered an ignored warning.

Taylor batted her lascivious eyes yet again, and I was just mesmerized by her long, lusciously lavender lashes. “You know, baby? When I’m up on stage wearing those skin tight stripper clothes, and doing those sexy moves, you know who I’m thinking of?” She paused, as if preparing to reveal the secret of life. “It’s you, baby. I think of you. You and that powerful sexy gaze. And your incredible hard dick. And how much we always want each other. Like how much I want you- right now.” Wow. This was… amazing. I looked at her in lustful awe. She smiled, triumphantly. “Baby.”

Ok, she wins! I didn’t know what her angle was, but I didn’t care.

I ravenously stripped off both our clothes. With the door open, we were now freezing, but Taylor apparently seemed to think this was absolutely necessary, and she was rich and famous, so who was I to say no? Her freshly exposed nipples were unbelievably hard, but I did what I could to soften them with my lips.

“OOOOOOHHHHH…” She moaned, both in ecstasy and stiffened, frostbitten pain. I kissed her so hard on the lips. Harder than anyone had ever been kissed, ever. I needed her warmth.

I desperately needed to fuck her. My cock was sensitive and freezing cold in the arctic night air. It cried out for her unlike ever, and I forcefully shoved it in her.

“OW. Watch…” She looked up at me sheepishly. “I mean… don’t.” She giggled innocently. “Be careful with me, baby.”

“Tay, you’re such a hassle.” I started fucking her. I needed it in all ways so, so badly- she was incredibly hot in all the ways a person could be. I so desperately needed her to stay warm, and she was just so damn attractive that I couldn’t stand it. Every inch of her was pure sex, and she was so super soft. I couldn’t believe how sexy she so always is. She was like an angel. A fallen one.

“Oh Tom… ahhhh yes”. She peered up at me with luridly lavender eyes.

“Ohhhh Tay.” God, she was so HOT. I mean, she’s Taylor Swift. I mean, Taylor Fucking Swift. She had the hottest and softest legs ever. And she was so young and feminine, and so traditional and wild, but not too much so of either. She’s a real woman, hot as hell. And she was just so… bratty. Wait, what? No, she wasn’t bratty, but… she certainly was privileged, and everyone knows how much privileged white girls turn me on. Most especially the famous ones. Oh God, I loved so much how my cock felt as it slid so smoothly into her. And by the flicker in her impatiently eager gaze, so did she.

“Ahhhhhhhhh… Tom. Ohhhh Tom.” She looked as relieved as I felt. “Mmmmm… Ohh.” She put her hands on my back. As she wrapped them around me, her eyes flashed surprised for a moment. Hmm? Oh, she put her hand on the scars Meredith left me. She didn’t know what she was feeling there, but the sensation didn’t seem to faze her. She was concentrating on something else.

“Uhn uhn uhn. Uhn… FUCK.” As I carefully thrust into her, I decided to try something new. I placed my hand again on her forehead, and used my powers to psychically enhance in her mind her sense of touch. Then, I started fucking her twice as fast.

“Oh, GOD.” Her eyes opened wide in surprised shock and disbelieving pleasure. “Oh GOD. Oh my God! Yes, Tom. YESS!!! Oh God, fuck me baby. Fuck me, oh God fuck me so hard!”

“Ooooooohhhhh!” God, that felt so good! It amplified the feeling a bit for me, too. Oh FUCK this was hot. “Oh, Taylor. Oh, Taylor. Oh, Taylor!!!!”

“Baby OH OH OH Fuck me so hard!” She involuntarily shook and slammed the back of her head against the floor. I was concerned for a second, before I saw that it didn’t affect her any. “OH TOM FUCK ME!!!!!!” Her purple eyelids started fluttering, and she started to orgasm. Wow, so soon? This technique must be really powerful! “OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!” Her arms shot out to the sides, flinging candy at the walls. She stared panting uncontrollably, “AH AH AH AH AH AH!”, and then arched her back. “OOOOOAAAAHHHHHUUUUHHHHH!!!!!!!” As she climaxed her head shot up involuntarily and her forehead collided with my chin. I felt woozy for a few seconds, but was able to gather myself and kept fucking her.

“UNF UNF UNF OH YEAH… OOOOHHHH UNF… UNNNFF!!!!” I orgasmed. God, that felt so GOOD. After I shot into her, I kept fucking her, while still concentrating on her mind.

“Oooohhhhh Tom. MMMmmmmm.” Taylor had calmed down, thankfully. She was feeling good and… relived, I think.

I kept the machine going, but this time with more measure and less impulsive angst. And this time I modulated my effect on Taylor’s mind.

“UMMMmmm. Uff uha yeah!” I looked down triumphantly.

“Oh Tom… fuck me baby. FUCK me.” Taylor closed her eyes and trusted me. Outside, lightning crashed, loudly- almost enough to break my concentration.

This time it took twice as long, but I successfully arranged it so that we both orgasmed simultaneously.

As we climaxed, we both panted and collapsed. We were spent. I depleted all of my mental and physical energy, and Taylor’s tremulous emotional rollercoaster this evening had left her with nothing.

“Ooooooo ahhhhhh…” I exhaled onto the floor beyond Taylor’s shoulder.

“Unf. Ahhhhh… Um. Um. Tom?” Taylor fidgeted under me. “TOM!” Hmmm? “Tom, you’re squishing me. Please. Get. Off!”

Oh. Ok. I sat up, taking care to keep Taylor’s legs pinned down so she couldn’t escape. I still had questions.

“TOM. Get… OFF!”

“Not yet. I need to know why you wanted this.”

“TOM. Please. Get. OFF of me.” She was exasperated. “Seriously! I’m not hiding anything. Just get off!!!!”

Oops! What was I thinking?!?! This was Taylor Swift! Sweet, innocent Taylor. She’s honest to a fault. “Oh, sorry, Tay!”

I stood up, surprised. Something weird squashed under my feet. Something… purple?

Oops. It had started raining, and the floor was covered in sticky, half melted grape candy. Fuck. This would be a bitch to clean. I quickly slammed the door shut and turned to face the still resting Taylor.

And then… wait, WTF?!?!

“Um, Taylor? Are you OK?” Taylor’s nipples were, for some reason, covered in purplish blood, and a small pool of it had formed in her navel.

She smiled serenely. “I’m fine, thanks…”

“But…”

She looked down. “Oh! That… isn’t my blood, Tom… I’m OK.”

Not hers? What? I looked down. There was blood on me, too. WTF?!?!?! I bit my lip out of nervousness and felt something. Oh… my lower lip had a scab and dried blood on it. I guess that when she bashed my chin she also split my lip, but I didn’t notice it because of the sex and the trance I was in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I couldn’t, I think.” She laughed. “I mean, I was in that…” She hesitated. “magic meditation, thing, and I didn’t want to break your concentration, I guess.” She paused. “And… it’s just a little bit of blood. It’s not like that time with Meredith. Remember that?”

“Yeah. That was crazy.” I turned to the side and showed her my scars.

“Oh! Oh my God!” She laughed, and then thought better of that. She smiled. “Sorry.”

Ok, she shouldn’t have laughed. That was really mean, but I didn’t show it. “It’s Ok. Thanks for your help back then.”

“Hmmn. No problem.”

Taylor tried to stand up, which was harder than we both expected it would be. The sticky melted candy had somewhat pasted her back to the floor.

“OW! Damn.” She gingerly tried to separate herself from the mess. “Ugh.” Schripp!!! “Ow. Damn.” Hahahahahaha! This time, I was the one chuckling. I mean, it WAS hilarious, and she totally deserved it for laughing at my scars. Hopefully, her sense of touch was back to normal at this point, because if it wasn’t… Hahahaha!!!

Taylor looked up, annoyed. She sighed. I just stood there, smiling.

After much effort, Taylor successfully freed herself and stood up. “Can I use your shower?”

“Sure, it’s upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

As she passed by, I decided to be a dumb, impulsive man and ran my hand up her leg, and my fingers got stuck on the candy residue.

“TOM. What…?”

“Oh, sorry.” Oops! I gamely peeled my now sticky sweet palm from her ass. Yikes! That stuff was like glue! Maybe I shouldn’t have laughed after all.

“OW.”

“Sorry…”

She sighed again. “It’s Ok.” She flipped the light switch for the staircase. Nothing.

“The power is out.”

“Oh yeah… “

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing on the floor. Just be careful not to actually touch anything because you’ll, um, stick to it, I guess. Here…” I grabbed the emergency flashlight from the foyer curio cabinet. As I gave it to her, I got a vision of Tay sticking to the carpet and being stuck there, permanently. Might be a good way to ‘get’ her. I smiled, mischievously.

She shot me another look and then tiptoed upstairs with ridiculously dainty steps. Her entire backside looked like the target of an attack of watercolors by a spastic kid with clinical ADHD. Oh, if only those organizers for the Met Gala could see her now! Hahahaha!! I stifled another chuckle.

After Taylor creaked up the old stairs I rushed into the kitchen and fetched an emergency lantern, a roll of paper towels, and the plastic bin with our cleaning supplies, and went to town on the foyer floor. I was reminded, again, of my time in Taylor’s house when the floor got messy after Meredith clawed me.

Upstairs, Taylor started the water.

I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. Yuck, I HATED this stuff. Cleaning, I mean. It was just so… domestic. You know, back in the fifties, I would be kicking back and having a cigar right now, and the maid / my wife / my mistress / Taylor would be doing this. I mean, I don’t even like cigars, but…

Well, whatever. Since I boosted Taylor and the Emmas so much, feminism has become the rage… which is, I guess, OK. I really do like feminism. And women in general. I love them, honest. But there are some things that women are just good at, and men aren’t, and cleaning is one of them, and I really don’t like cleaning, so maybe they could do that for me? Please?

Oh, who was I kidding. There was nobody else here, anyways.

So I kept scrubbing, and Taylor kept showering.

It wasn’t long before I had used up half the roll. Beside me, in the enormous candy bowl, there was a messy, leaking, purple hill of used towels. The interplay of colors and the sheer size of the mound made it look like the spastic ADHD kid’s science project on the Himalayas. And all of it was sticky. Yuck. Cleaning was disgusting. I sprinted into the kitchen to fetch a garbage bag to deposit the hill in. Yuck.

As I shoved the towels in the bag, it took continuous effort to unstick everything from my fingers. Gross.

Upstairs, Taylor kept showering. Wow, she sure was taking her time! But I guess she had a lot to clean. Or maybe it’s just because she was a girl, I didn’t know.

I finished cleaning the floor as best I could, and tied the bag closed and tossed it into the garage. I put everything else away but the lantern and looked in the bathroom mirror.

YUCK.

Even in the wan LED light of the lantern, I looked awful. Obviously, my lip looked bad. It was swollen, and I had a bit of purple under my skin on my chin, too, so I probably had a bruise there. There was candy on my hands, of course, and blood on my chest. And I’m not even going to say about my hair.

I took a look at my cleaner fingers. They were purplish and thin, like they get when they’re cold. Hmmm… it was chilly in here. I guess that we left the door open too long when we fucked, and some of the heat escaped the house. Brrrrrr… I shivered a little. I needed to start moving again.

I cleaned myself as best I could, and walked back to the foyer to inspect our clothes.

Thankfully, they were unaffected by the candy. In my fit of passion, I threw them blindly into the living room before fucking. I quickly put mine on, and then took a look at Taylor’s. Her clothes, as always, were fascinating to me. Expensive, beautiful and luxurious, they were from another world.

Outside, everything seemed eerily still. I couldn’t tell if the storm was over, or if this was a lull. The sky was pure black- owing to the clouds having either moved, or to them concentrating themselves to the point where no light at all shined through them. I couldn’t tell which.

Taylor clumped downstairs. Slowly. She was dressed in one of our old, stale purple beach towels.

I brought her her clothes at kissed her on the cheek. Odd… she didn’t taste like Taylor. She tasted… dry. I mean, she didn’t taste like oil. I guess she washed off all her makeup.

I took a good look at her as I handed her her clothes. She looked very natural. Very… pretty, even without any makeup on. “Tay…” I smiled. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“Thanks…” She took her clothes from me. “Um…” She looked up. “Can I have some privacy, please?”

Okay, weird question. “Why? I mean, considering what we just did, do you really need it?”

“Tom… please.”

FINE. “Okay, that’s fine. Whatever. I don’t care.”

I turned my back and let her put her clothes on, because apparently I was yucky, or something. Oy. WOMEN.

Taylor put her clothes on, including her overcoat. It really was chilly in here.

She hugged me with a smile. “Tom… I need to leave.”

“OK, but why? You just got here.”

“You’re really sweet, but I need to do things with my tour. I mean, rehearsals, and practice and such? And I’m feeling inspired, too.” She smiled. “So I want to write some things down.”

“You could write them down here, you know.”

“Not with the power out… I’ll do better at my hotel.”

“I could come with.”

“I know but… you need to take care of this place, with the storms and everything. Someone should be here.”

“Okay…” that made sense, I guess. “but how are you getting to your, um, hotel?”

“Well, I can drive, silly!” Taylor shined the flashlight outside. There was a black car in my driveway! I wondered how I could have missed it… it must have melted into the dark skies earlier tonight.

“Take the flashlight. You might need it.”

“Ok, thanks. Bye!!!! Love you!!!” Taylor kissed me, opened the front door and darted off toward her car.

Hmm. Well, that was quick, but I guess she wanted to leave before it started raining again, or something. I don’t know. You know, overall, this was a pretty, picture perfect ending for a beautiful, bow-tied adventure. I loved it… this would be fodder for a thousand fanfics, and maybe an album or two for her.

I smiled.

As she carefully walked the walkway to her car, I shined my light on her path.

Somehow… with my light guiding her, I knew that we’d be OK.

I smiled again.

And then… I saw something.

Blood.

Blood, on the bricks where Taylor was stepping.

At least, I thought it was blood. It was something purplish red, at least.

Up above, thunder cracked the skies.

“Um… Taylor?” She didn’t respond.

I stepped outside, and she turned and shot me an evil look. “WHAT?!?!”

What? What did she mean by WHAT?!?! “Ok, what the FUCK is going on?”

“NOTHING is going on, Tom. NOTHING.” She spat the words to me as if they were acid. “Nothing that you can help me with, at least.”

Wait… I thought back to the blood I saw when I fucked her. That… couldn’t have been from my split lip. At least, not all of it! It couldn’t have been! There had been too much of it!

She turned and sprinted to her car. I followed, or at least tried to. She had shoes and I didn’t, and I wasn’t sure of what was out there. Halfway to her car, I lunged at her and was able to grab her ankles. Yup, it was blood all alright!

She tripped and fell onto the dark pavement.

“TOM…” Taylor yelled out. “Stop it you’re hurting me! Let me go!”

“Oh no, you’re not doing THAT again.” I wrestled her down, and she punched me on the nose. I slapped her in return, taking care not to hit her head against the driveway.

“Fuck y…” I slapped her again, and she dug her nails into my other arm.

“AHHHHHHH!!!”

“Get OFF!”

”NO!!!!” I pinned her forearms down on the pavement.

We both stopped; panting and bleeding. Up far above, the brutal clouds interjected with crashing bolts.

“Tay… what is going on? For real?” I asked, even though I felt I didn’t need to.

She didn’t respond, except by relaxing.

I rolled up her sleeves. Nothing. Then I pulled up her shirt. Yup.

There was a cut on her stomach.

“Tay…” I stopped and thought. “Did… I do this?”

She studied me as best as she could. The flashlight was on the ground and shining on her, not on me. “Umm…” She looked away. “Um, no.”

“Then, how did this happen?”

“I don’t know.” Then, she realized who she was talking to. “Um… sorry. I tried to hide this from you but…” The blood from her cut started to run onto the driveway, where it mixed with water, turning everything purple. I thought it might be raining again, as I felt something sharp prick the base of my neck.

I studied her further. “This is really why you’re here, isn’t it?”

She sighed, and I noticed that her cheeks were wet. Was she crying? Or was that rain? I looked up. The cloudy purple dome above us gave me no hint of its intentions. I looked down, again, at Taylor. I couldn’t hear sniffles, but that might be because they were being covered up by the trailing screeches of the far off traffic. “Tay… are you crying?”

“No.” Ok. I believed her. Pretty much.

“Okay. So, what is this? Do you do this? Intentionally?”

“Yeah. I just need to, sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t? Really? Everyone’s done it, Tom.” She gave me a knowing look and rolled her eyes.

“So? That doesn’t make it right. I think you should see someone, Taylor.”

“Oh, you THINK? Would THAT help? Really?”

Hmmm? “Yeah. I mean… I don’t understand, myself. Why would you do this? Aren’t you happy?”

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

Ok, this was getting frustrating. “Taylor… don’t make me break out my pimp hand.” I showed her my palm- the same one I used earlier to manipulate her brain patterns. Surely she could see it, even cloaked in the surrounding darkness.

Her eyes opened wide. “Oh. You know, it’s tough. It’s really tough sometimes. It’s overwhelming. It’s too much, sometimes. I never get a day off. I always have to be perfect. I always have to love everyone. I always have to be nice. I always have to be pretty. I always have to be center of attention, everywhere.”

I nodded.

“And… I can’t tell anyone. I mean, I can’t go to therapy or whatever, because what if they tell people? And I don’t want my family to know, so…”

I thought back. Has there been evidence of this before? Maybe. There was that cut on her calf last year that was never really explained. And then that cut on her thigh earlier this year that was blamed on Meredith, even though why would Meredith do that to Taylor? Then the cut on her thumb just a couple weeks ago.

I conjured up pictures of both of her leg cuts from my memories of them. You know, they did look suspicious to me when they happened, now that I think about it. Meredith, when she cut me, went deep. I mean, I got scars from it. Cats are much stronger than people think. Taylor’s cuts back then were shallow, and they didn’t leave noticeable scars.

You know… at the time they really did look like they were left by razor blades. Like the one right now on her stomach.

“Taylor… how long has this been going on?”

“Um… about a year.”

“Oh Taylor… I love you, dear. It’s OK.” I hugged her. I didn’t care if I got blood on me. Then I remembered something, and surprised us both by laughing a bit.

“What… what’s so funny?” She was a bit annoyed.

I sat up. “Remember that CSI episode you were in? You know, where you dyed your hair and fought in a parking lot somewhere at night? I mean, with someone who was trying to help you? But then you lost the fight, and ended up bleeding from the stomach with them on top of you?”

“Hmm? Um, yeah.” She thought for a second, and then laughed. History repeats itself in weird ways, sometimes. “You saw that?”

“Yeah, a while ago.”

She sighed and smiled. “That was fun, you know, shooting that episode.”

“Tay… I think it’s starting to rain again. Let’s go in.”

“Okay.”

And just like that, the lights turned on.

————————————————————————

Taylor and I cleaned up in the large bathroom upstairs. It was a lengthy process. We both walked into the room looking like cage fighters after a particularly nasty pay-per-view event.

I had bruises on my chin, lip, left arm, and right hand, and Taylor had them on her cheeks, and on the back of her head where she slammed it on the floor when she orgasmed. And she was missing some hair from when I yanked on it, earlier. And we were both bleeding, and from multiple places, each. Natch.

And we were both exhausted. This… all of it, was just too much.

I exhaled. “Yuck.” I said, as I desperately tried to clean myself, somehow. “Gross.”

Taylor just had a dazed look on her face. “Oh my God, I feel so tired. I feel like I just finished the longest concert ever.”

Our old clothes were absolutely ruined, having been marked up by the driveway and our mutual bleeding, so I had to fetch things out of my wardrobe for us both to wear.

Not wanting to part with something expensive, I gave her one of my ratty old joke T-shirts. It was one of those “evolution” jokes that showed a chimp evolving into a human, who then “de-evolves” into a video game player. On me, it fit well, and looked funny and apropos. On Taylor Swift, it looked poncho-like, inappropriate as hell, and truly odd and weirdly hysterical. I also gave her a pair of my old lounge pants, since she couldn’t fit into my jeans, of course. Not that she could fit in my lounge pants, either, but at least she could tie them so they wouldn’t fall down every other step. And- they completed the unkempt, video game nerd “look” that the shirt started so ungracefully.

I simply. Could. Not. Stop. Laughing.

Poor Taylor. Her face turned the cutest shade of beet red.

“You know, you COULD get me some other clothes.”

“Ummm… hahahahahaha!!! I could, I guess. Hahahaha!! But, you know, all the stores are closed now, and my mom’s stuff won’t fit you… BWAHAHAHAHA…” My sides started to hurt. “Hahahahaha!!!”

“Fine, I’ll just wear these. Whatever.”

I thought for a second. “Heh heh… you know, Tay, nobody in the world would recognize you right now. I mean, you could literally go anywhere, or do anything. I mean, nobody would know.”

“Yeah… I guess I could walk around like… this… but…”

“It’s Ok. It’s not quite your style, I know. I was just saying.” I hugged her. “You know, though, maybe wearing this textile disaster for awhile would be good for you. It would break you out of your box. I mean, you don’t always need to be perfect and glamorous, you know. I mean, not even outdoors, where people can see you. We know you’re human.”

“Yeah but…”

“Just think about it, OK? It won’t kill your career to be a bit casual now and then.”

“That’s true.”

I kissed her. “We all know you’re beautiful, Tay. And you’ll always be beautiful, too. At least, to me.” I kissed her again.

This time, she turned a deeper shade of red. “Thanks…” She whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Tay.” I reached out and clasped her hand in my own. She smiled. “Tay… what are we going to do about the cutting?”

“I need to stop, I know.”

“It’s not bad… it’s just not a good coping mechanism. I mean, it’s just not a good way to deal with things. Here…” I showed her my palm again.

She flinched. “DON’T! I already said I needed to stop. I won’t do it anymore…”

“No, not THAT, Taylor! Look.” I showed her my scars, from junior high. “See? You want to avoid that, I would think. Bad for the modeling career.”

“Oh…” She studied it. “Oh, yeah. I guess so…”

“But like you said earlier, it’s not a deal. Life goes on, and you even eventually forget about it.”

“I guess so.”

“And it doesn’t matter to me, anyhow. Glamour girl.” I scooped her up and kissed her again.

She giggled. “Don’t!”

Yeah, she had a point. We were both kinda delicate right now for various reasons. I set her down and kissed her again.

“Tom…”

“I know, you need to leave.”

“Yeah but… not right now. Let’s stay together for a bit. And warm up.”

Cha-Ching!

————————————————————————

So… we spent a few hours together. It was like a date, I mean an actual date, for once, and dammit, I deserved that. I bought some stupid scary movie starring Ashley Greene on Comcast and we watched it, together, in each other’s arms. I’ve always thought that Ashley was appealing, but the film itself wasn’t. The traveling thunder outside and the traffic’s never-ending screeching winds did their best to make the experience scary.

Then we made small talk about Ashley and our very different experiences with her, and then we fucked, again. That was fun. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be the last time I would get to use the brain-touch thing on her.

After relaxing a bit with more conversation, Taylor said that she had to leave.

I looked up at the clock. It was almost midnight. “Wow. It’s late.”

“Yeah, I know. I need to get going.”

“Ok.” I led her to the door.

“So Tay, how was your Halloween?”

“Gooooood. I liked it.”

“Yeah, me too. It was certainly freaky enough. In fact I haven’t been this unnerved by a Halloween since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, it was scary. Did you dress up?”

Ha! “Me? Tay, I’m a vampire. For real.”

“Yeah.”

“No but, If it means anything, I tried to use my powers to scare the kids as I gave them candy.”

“Really?” She piqued an eyebrow. “Did it work?”

“Nah, not really. I don’t think so, at least.”

She laughed. “Oh well. Maybe next year.”

I grinned. “Tay, Halloween is special, you know?”

“Yeah, it is. I love it.”

“I know. I do too. But, I mean, it’s really special for me. You know, for, um ‘evil’ wizard types, it’s our main holiday.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” She laughed. “Well, I’m glad I got to spend this special night with you, then.”

“I’m happy too.” I kissed her. That always felt good.

We separated. “Oh, Tay… about your mom.”

“Oh, she’s doing OK now.”

“She is?”

“Yeah, it’s in remission. It’s being taken care of, so don’t worry.”

Whew. So I guess this really was about us all along.

I wanted so much to continue talking to her. “Tay, you know, this Halloween thing has always been big with me. I mean, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m basically a goth, and this is like their thing, too. That’s actually kind of important, because, you know, times are changing. This is like a new era now. A new world, kinda. Maybe that stuff will be more important than it’s been in the past. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but…” I yawned. God, I was so tired. And I was rambling, and probably sounded wishy-washy. But, I didn’t care.

Taylor yawned too, and swayed on her feet. Yikes, she was more tired than I was. I honestly wasn’t sure if she had even heard a word of what I just said.

“Ok, Tay, never mind. You need to leave. Go back to your hotel, before it gets too late.”

She nodded. “Yeah, we’ll talk… later.”

I grabbed her hands. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always.”

“Always.” *Yawn*.

We separated again. My hands hated it, but they did let go.

Tay turned to the door. Then she stopped and turned back to me. “Next time… I’ll call before I come over.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

“Bye Tom.”

“Bye, Tay.”

She turned and left. Through the screen, I watched her get into her car and leave. Everything was cool, I guess. I studied her car as it faded into the darkness.

After she was gone, I slumped onto the floor, with my back against the door. God, I was tired. I felt like falling asleep, right then and there.

From where I was sitting, I took another peek at the foyer, to make sure it was clean.

It was, thank God. Time for bed.

One last look and… wait. What was that?

My weary eye caught a glimpse of something. It was in the corner, near the coat closet door. I bent forward. It looked like… a ring?

I walked over and picked it up. It was a ladies’ gold ring, with a huge, gorgeous amethyst on top. It was such a beautiful stone. Wow. This must be Taylor’s.

WOW. This was no ordinary gem. It was amazing. I collected gems- well, cheap ones, so I have a few amethysts, but nothing like this. The purple on this rock was deep, striking, and powerful. This looked… Russian, like it was one of those super expensive Siberian amethysts. If that’s what this is, this ring must be crazy valuable. But how did it get here?

I thought back to Taylor flinging her arms around when I was fucking her. Maybe it flew off then, and she didn’t notice. I smiled. Haha!

I’ll need to get this back to her. I guess. I don’t know. I mean, if she never asks about it…

I smiled evilly. Trick or Treat, Taylor. I pocketed the ring carefully.

This was such a great Halloween. It was perfect. Maybe the best I’ve ever had.

In the backroom, the old grandfather clock struck a bell with a deep clang. The grim ringing sounded as hollow and old as time itself.

It was midnight.

Not yet

Friday, October 16th, 2015

Not now. Not yet, but… soon.

Very soon.

I can feel it.

Thoughts on the Death of Liberalism, Part XIX

Tuesday, October 13th, 2015

…….

Oy.

I haven’t blogged about this stuff in a while because… IDK. I’m more sad now than angry, I guess, and it’s always tougher to blog about sad feelings than angry ones.

Well, the empire is crumbling, obviously.

I mean, it’s literally crumbling. The infrastructure of the entire country is falling apart internally. I mean, roads and bridges and water mains and such.

And things are quite obviously falling apart internationally, and in very sick and embarrassing ways.

“Obama”, or whoever that is in the White House, is on track, per my prediction, to being the worst president in history, and perhaps the worst politician of all time. The fallout from his nigh endless string of horrifying blunders will be catastrophic.

Everything he has ever done in office, from the first day to the present, has been an unspeakable disaster in one way or another.

It’s hideous. He’s turned himself and the entire country into a laughingstock, again quite literally. Other leaders, such as our apparent enemies, like leaders in Iran and Russia, no longer try to even appear threatening or intimidating before us. Rather, they just point and laugh.

Gone are the days of us being “The Great Satan”. Now, we’re beneath that. Not worthy of the title. We’re now regarded as a nation of clowns and nitwits, which is what we are, with him and his “wife” at the helm.

Really, it’s just awful. All of it. Even his so-called “successes” like the Affordable Care Act have carried along with them ungodly consequences and historic embarrassments.

And all of his “successes”, and I mean every single one, has pounded the wedge much deeper between him and the most hated of his internal enemies, young white men like me.

“Obama”, or whoever it is that is running the show here, is an idiot, but also kind of an enigma.

It’s weird to see this play out. Obviously, he is powerful. Never before in history has a president achieved every single thing he has wanted domestically. It’s amazing to watch. I mean, whatever it is he wants, he just gets it, often by simply bypassing all political processes altogether- he has by far the most executive orders of any president in history.

So, he just does what he wants, and nobody complains. So, he is powerful.

But I’ve never seen a president appear so contemptibly weak. I’ve never seen a politician of any stripe held in such low regard by so many, and I swear that I’m even including the North Koreans in this. I despise the fool, I really do, but some of what’s said about him is shocking even to me.

So his internal enemies are galvanized, sure-footed and confident. In my 2 decades of surfing the web, I’ve never seen conservatives so powerfully motivated and determined to make waves. They think they can win, in spite of suffering what appears on paper to be a string of enormous losses.

So… whatever it was that “Obama” was supposed to do with the US in office, he hasn’t done it. If his role was to play politician and lead the country in a respectable and admirable manner, he has failed miserably. If his role was to unite the races here into a happy multicultural New World Order, he has failed miserably. If his role here was to destroy the conservative side of the US because he and his masters hate it, he has failed miserably.

In every way thinkable, he has failed miserably, and always in the most embarrassing and clownish way imaginable.

It’s sickening to watch him flounder, even though he’s been doing it for 7 years now. You’d think that I would have gotten used to it by now, but he always manages to come up with some new and novel way to embarrass himself, so watching it happen never gets old.

And I’ll tell you this: Obama has single-highhandedly destroyed forever the reputation of blacks. He’s done more damage to their image than a hundred years of KKK flyers.

It used to be that blacks here were accorded some kind of respect, even from hard-core racists, because they were assumed to be socially savvy and cool. Those days are long, long gone, and most of that can be attributed to watching that dork in the Oval Office continuously trip and fall all over himself and everyone else on the world stage.

Right now, I’m remembering that Simpsons episode where Sideshow Bob keeps getting hit in the face with the rakes. It’s like that, only much more cringe worthy and pitiable.

Obama is the living personification of every negative thought that any white American has had about Affirmative Action, ever. And we’re all seeing it play out in front of our very eyes, and literally the entire world is laughing at him, all at the same time.

I still believe that the fallout from all of this unbelievable foolishness will likely be a permanent separation of the races, here. I cannot imagine that the tenuous strands that connected white and black America together in the sixties are going to last very long after his presidency, no matter who gets elected next or how.

Which brings me to… the election, I guess.

*sigh*.

I don’t like them. Any of them. I’m trying, real hard, to like Trump, because I so desperately want to like somebody. I mean, I’m like a dying man in the desert, and I’m hoping that that thing labeled “Trump” over that sand dune off in the distance is actually what I hope it is, and not the mirage that it most likely, most probably, is.

That… and I guess I just like how he’s taken so many of his ideas from me. It’s flattery, I think, and I’m always searching for that ever-elusive recognition.

My girlfriends, bless their sheltered hearts, are obviously gunning for a Hilary victory. The fact that this may make sense from their perspective does not obviate the fact that is also a stupid, stupid idea. Hilary is unelectable because 1) she is obviously out of touch with everyone not of the 0.1%, 2) she is associated with everything her husband did wrong and nothing he did right, and 3) the horrible reek of Obama hangs over her like the smell of death.

Hilary is not electable, and that is not even considering the fact that she was without question part of the looting of Fort Knox, and of the attack on 9-11. We’ll just put those and her other, equally treasonous things, like her hiding of “Obama”‘s non-citizenship, off to the side for a moment.

Hilary is not electable, and she never will be.

That doesn’t mean that she won’t win, of course. Obviously, this is not a free country. I’m just saying that if it was, she wouldn’t.

IDK what will happen to her, and my girlfriends, if she “wins”.

Probably nothing good.

Annabella Avery Thorne, Part II

Wednesday, October 7th, 2015

Rather than leave things on such a dour note, I think I’ll spend some time tonight having fun with Bella, and maybe I’ll tweet her something special, too.

Something only for her.

Annabella Avery Thorne

Wednesday, October 7th, 2015

So… tomorrow’s the day. Bella will be 18. Crazy.

Sooooo many incredible memories with her. So so many in so many years, from the first time I saw her to today.

I’m not sure which one is my favorite. It could be the time where I teased her for wearing shoes on her hands in those pictures of her in the gifting suite at the 2010 MTV Movie Award Lounge. Or those times when we talked as I collected her child modeling pictures. Or that time when I collected ALL of her Instagram pictures. Or that time when I first heard Bubblegum Boy. Or that time when I teased her for visiting ISU but not coming to see me. Or that time when I teased her because I couldn’t find any pictures of her with her back turned to me. Or that time when I first saw her video for Call it Whatever. Or that one Thanksgiving with her and Dani. Or that one time when she had that Instagram pic of her with the cookies standing in front of the airplane. Or that one time when I had fun with Kingston. Or that one time when I went nuts after some of her Fappening pictures leaked. Or that one time when I made her a fairy princess in those pictures of her and Kathryn Newton at the Megamind premiere. Or that one time when I watched a couple episodes of Shake it Up and talked to her while doing so. Or that one time when I teased her while watching one of her youTube Q&A sessions. Or that one time when I danced for like an hour to Watch Me. Or that one time when my door was off its hinges and I had to be real, real quiet even though I wanted her so, so badly that night. Or that one time when I first started seriously following her on Twitter- she was the first celebrity that I followed, even though she wasn’t even a celebrity then, and had only about 10K followers. Or that one time when I gave her her first, real, non-acting kiss. Or that one time when I saw her first ever paparazzi pictures. Or that one time when she wore that one piece over Independence Day. Or that one time when I searched through literally every picture of her on the internet to find all of the ones where she was with Kathryn Newton. Or that one time when I tweeted her that snarky reply to her tweet where she pretended to slam dunk a basketball. Or that one time where I poked fun at her for being in MTV’s Scream because it wasn’t the real Scream that I watched as a teen. Or that one time when I got into the Snapchat world so I could follow her Snapchats. Or that one time…

So… it’s been awhile. It’s been six years now, or a little bit longer. And a lot of stuff has happened between us. A lot of drama, too, only some of which I’m aware of. But I think it’s been good overall.

Her childhood is now officially over. Wow… you know, I used to wonder, back then, what she’d be like at 18. This was a long time before Shake It Up. I wondered back then if she’d even have a career now, or be in the industry at all. You know, like maybe she’d go off and become a librarian or something. You can never be sure.

All I really knew back then was that we had great chemistry, and that I had a crush on her, and that my gut instinct told me that I needed to be with her and guide her to… something, so that’s what I did.

I think that to an extent, the relationship has cooled off slightly, but that’s probably a good thing. She needs to transition out of child stardom and into the next step of her career, so I think some distance would be good for now. It will allow me to create a new relationship with her after that transition is complete. You know, one based on more adult terms.

Sometimes I wonder about all of this. I mean, I’ve never met Bella. Is it good for me to have had all of these experiences with her? I mean, it’s been incredibly fun sometimes, but it’s not real, right? I mean, really real. Like… as in, she’s a real figure, in my real life real.

I just checked her early twitter, her first one, @bellathorne143. It’s gone… all of it. It’s like a wasteland. So much of what we had was on that twitter, and nobody goes there anymore. That Twitter was huge to me. It was my introduction to that world… to her, as a person, and not a distant actress… and now it’s gone. A hundred years ago, something tangible would have remained. Love letters, initials carved into a tree, you know, something.

But these days it’s one button push, one click of a mouse, and it’s been deleted forever, permanently. In the world of the internet, and most especially in my own little world of telepathy, such a relationship may as well have never existed.

IDK.

I checked something else today, though: Kathryn Newton’s old twitter, @kathrynnewton88. It’s also been deleted, save for one solitary retweet from Bella, where she said to Kathryn that she’d always be her BFF. Bella’s tweet also has a link to an Instagram pic of hers of the two just being close and happy with each other.

That’s… touching. To me, the fact that Kathryn took the time to save that one retweet says so much, and has so much feeling behind it. And the Instagram pic in the tweet reminds me so much of what things were like way back then, with her, Bella, and me.

I know that Bella and Kathryn aren’t as close as they used to be… so I wonder if Bella appreciates what Kathryn did as much as I do, or if she even knows about it at all.

I really hope she does.

Demi Lovato

Friday, October 2nd, 2015

Wooooo! Schwing!!!

Those Vanity Fair pics are awesome. Just awesome.

Good.

I think I needed them. I mean, really needed them.

Demi and I had a great relationship for awhile, and then it just kinda petered out… IDK, because of X Factor, I think, and a few other things, like some huge mistakes that we both made that I didn’t want to confront for some reason or another. But I think it was mostly because of X Factor.

I don’t know. I don’t like those shows. I just don’t. To me they’re the symbol of everything that is wrong with this country. They’re boring, all of them, and they’re abhorrently shallow. I’m not saying that the judges or contestants themselves are shallow, but much of the audience for the genre is, and so are the shows’ formats. I hate those shows; I really do.

Her being on one spoiled our relationship. It killed it, frankly. I just don’t like that stuff. They destroy someone’s reputation in my eyes. They remove from the celebrity judges all sense of glamour and grandeur. They remove all mystery- from everything, I think. They lay bare too starkly that the music industry is entirely profit driven, and not artist driven.

So I avoid that stuff like the plague. I must. They make pop music boring and common, and that’s death to my fantasies.

So, I stayed away and am glad I did. But she’s gotten away from that, and established herself in different ways, so now perhaps a re-connection is possible. I think it is.

The other things- those enormous mistakes… are all water under the bridge.

Most of them, at least.