So I finally have a moment to update my LiveJournal.

I talked to a friend, Leanne, this weekend for the first time in rather too long a time. She moved some time ago–and not just to another state, mind you, but to anouther country. When last I saw her, she was having a number of difficulties in her romantic life; now, it would seem, things have starrted looking up for her. She sounded genuinely happy on the phone, and it was a joy to behold; I’ve never heard her sound so happy, and it really made me feel good.

And, it would seem, she’s begun exploring an interest in BDSM–something I told her I saw lurking in her a long time ago. Damn, I love being right.

On the more amusing side: Let me say for the record that I hate those little “What are you?” personality quizzes–you know, “What flavor of ice cream are you?” “What serial killer are you?” “What carpet stain are you?” But I’ve always been quite fond of chess, so when I saw the “What chess piece are you?” I finally broke down and took it.

And without further ado, the result: the Black King. I have no idea what that means.

So today I was reviewing the statistics for the Xero Web site, looking through the keywords that people use to find it and my site.

Looking at the keywords people use in search engines is always illuminating. Most of the keywords are pretty straightforward; for example, many people use some variant on “do it yourself sex toys” to find my page on, well, do it yourself sex toys.

But some of the keyword searches are absolutely priceless and others are just sort of…um, weird. And I’m not talking about the poor souls who use keyword searches like “peanut butter nutrition” and stumble across lordfuckbeast‘s peanut butter story.

No, I’m talking about people who find the Xero site, or one of my pages, using keywords like “ticklish redheads.” Or “sternness damage consenting.” Or one of my own personal favorites from last month’s log: “My dog wants to model.”

Some of the keywords make no sense, like “degrading cluttering mommy.” Some make sense, but I can’t imagine how they led to the Xero site, like “tinted film suppliers UK.” Some, you have to wonder what the user was thinking, like “small plastic enclosure”–a keyword search that turns up 56,500 hits on Google, with the Xero site well over 100 places down.

And then there’s “I hate plumbing.” This isn’t a keyword search, it’s a statement of personal philosophy! Or “Sandra Bullock blowing.” oka, well, that’s entirely TOO much information about somebody’s fantasies…

Here’s one: “Shit through coffe table.” Huh? What, pray tell, was this poor lost soul seeking? Another: “How to cast magic without any supplies.” Damn, I’ve always just HATED when I have a dozen curses to do and I’m fresh out of eye of newt…

“Lesbians with body piercings.” okay, that one I can understand. But “fuck my girlfriend”? Is this a keyword search, or a plea? And “Buckaroo torture”–All I can think of is that scene in Buckaroo Bonzai: “Why is that watermelon in that hydraulic press?” “I’ll tell you later.”

And finally: “Ping Pong sex.” Now, I consider myself somewhat experienced (jaded, I’ve been called); but if someone out there is having Ping Pong sex, this is the first I’ve heard of it, and that is a crime. Whatever this Ping Pong sex is, i want it. i don’t even understand it, and I want it.

…or, Thoughts on sending an elf to do a dwarf’s work.

Neal Stephenson, author of the outstanding cyberpunk novel Cryptonomicon, divides the world into three sorts of people: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Most people, he says, are Men. They do whatever it is they do for a living, and that’s about it.

Elves, by way of contrast, are theorists. They create novel things, or explore in novel ways; Thomas Edison was an elf, as was Albert Einstein.

Dwarves are the ones who take the theory and turn it into reality. Henry Ford was a dwarf; he took an idea already invented, the automobile, and figured out a way to produce it so that it was within reach of everyone.

I am an elf. Most particularly, I like designing unconventional toys for grownups.

So why was I up until one o’clock in the morning yesterday with lordfuckbeast, cutting metal to build a plastic molding machine to put this novel toy into production? Because when you don’t have a very large amount of seed capital behind you, sometimes an elf must do double-shift as a dwarf, as well. (As a side note, lordfuckbeast maintains that prototyping is elf’s work; I say, Building equipment for production is dwarf’s work. So there.)

So there it is. An elf can, sometimes, do a dwarf’s work, though dwarves’ work is a nasty business that makes one quite grimy and tired.

And off I go to Valentine’s Day dinner with kellyv. For the evening, I shall be neither elf nor dwarf.

I rarely remember my dreams. So rarely, in fact, that it’s always a surprise when I do.

So imagine my surprise when I had not one but two dreams last night, both of which I remember quite clearly.

In the first, demi moved to Florida and hosted a large party, to which I and several friends (including scarlete, lordfuckbeast, and feorlen) were invited. The most memorable thing about this party was the large and patient, but quite frustrated, spider that kept spinning a web across the doorway. People would come in, the web would be destroyed, and the spider would construct another across a different doorway.

In the second dream, the Mafia was trying for some reason to assassinate me. So I took a pair of horns, stuck them on my head, and phoned the Mob boss on his cell phone, saying “It’s open season on Yak Boy–come and get me!” Then I ran around town, teasing the Mafia hitmen and making fun of them–I’d dress up like an electrician, for example, and stand on a ladder pretending to fix a sign while they ran by beneath me, then call the boss on his cell phone and tease him some more–“Your guys just walked right past me, and I’m wearing horns, and they still didn’t see me! How dumb is that?”

I have no idea what either of these dreams means, though I welcome all attempts at analysis. 🙂

I’m flying out to California at the end of March to visit lacaba. I’ll be out there for a week…I’m really looking forward to it!

Life has its ways of playing tricks on us…I never believed I’d even attempt a long-distance relationship (leastwise, not one that started out long distance. Of course, feorlen is in the process of moving to California herself, but she was local when first we met.)

In other news: I’ve been spening a lot of time trying to prepare for the upcoming convention, MegaCon, that scarlete and lordfuckbeast and my wife kellyv and I are attending two weeks hence. I’ve been frantically trying to get the CD-ROM version of my game Onyx ready to go…

Finally got time to process the film of last weekend’s photo shoot with alyyss and kattvomitt, so I should be able to start printing on Sunday. This is happy news; i haven’t been in the darkroom in a long time, and I miss it.

My wife is one of the coolest people in the world.

It’s been a long and hectic week, and I’ve been so stressed out over it that she bought me an hour-long massage on Saturday. First professional massage I’ve ever had. It was absolutely wonderful, though I found myself mentally taking notes during the massage… “Hey, that works very well!” “Hmm…interesting, I’ll have to try that.”

I love giving massages, but haven’t ever had any formal training. It’s always nice to meet people who have skills I don’t have, or who are better at things than I am…I can steal the benefit of their experience. 🙂

Did a photo shoot with kattvomitt and alyyss and a friend of theirs whose LJ name I don’t know this afternoon. Had a great time, got some photos I’m highly optimistic about (though I haven’t had time yet to develop the film, much less make a contact sheet). All in all, an excellent end to a weekend that started rather poorly. But more of that is on lordfuckbeast‘s journal here, so no point in me going on about it.

My wife is talking to lacaba right now. I want to talk to her, dammit! My wife gets to have all the fun… >pout<

On Sunday, my wife and feorlen and I spent some time with friends we see too seldom. It transpired that these friends are considering a romantic relationship with a person I know, and one of them asked me, point-blank, what I thought of the idea.

Oh, boy.

Long and bitter experience has taught me the folly of getting involved in the romantic affairs of another. Even on those occasions where I have been right, every time I’ve done it, I’ve been sorry.

And yet, here it was. The question had been asked; I was not volunteering the opinion, it had been solicited. And I have knowledge of a destructive pattern of dishonesty in the individual in question’s romantic situations in the past. Exactly the information that had been solicited.

And with reason. Apparently, some flags had already been raised. So there it was. Evading the question seemed close to intellectual dishonesty; saying I had no reservations would be overt dishonesty. So I ansswered the question as asked, to the best of my ability, and now I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and hoping that it doesn’t land on my head.

Which brings me to the crux of the matter, which is this:

None of this would be necessary if the person in question would Just. Be. Honest.

Why is that so difficult? I don’t understand. Is it really hat hard to figure out? Can dishonesty really become such a habit that you become blind to its consequences? Is it really so hard to see how much goddamn simpler your life is if you try to make a habit of honesty and integrity?

I mean, this person has a lot to offer–smart, witty, well-educated, capable of being compassionate and warm and giving and fun. So why? Why mar it with a habit of lies?

I know, I know–wasted potential, not hydrogen, is the most common element in the universe, and many are the people who have a lot to offer yet fall short of the mark. But still…

feorlen is moving.

When we first became involved, about ten years ago, she lived here in Tampa. Now she’s in Atlanta, which is about seven hours away by car or half an hour by plane…far, but not too far. We still see each other often.

The pressure has been growing for quite some time, however–calling her to San Francisco. It’s the right place for her to be, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is her career.

Still, it’s hard to bridge such a gap in a romantic relationship.

And so, I, the person who said he’d never be involved in a long-distance relationship, will soon find himself in two. Go figure.

URL of the Day: File this one under “You Gotta Be Shitting Me“: The Lion King teaches homosexuality.

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My wife has never before been exposed to “The Lord of the Rings,” or indeed to any other Tolkien.

I suppose i can’t really say too much about it. I have my own cultural illiteracies as well; I’ve never watched “Charlie’s Angels” or “Three’s Company” on TV, for example, and I’ve never seen so much as a single episode of “Leave It to Beaver.”

But anyway, she’s somhow managed to live without being exposed to the joys of Tolkien’s brand of fantasy, until now. She is currently deep in “The Return of the King,” having devoured “The Fellowship of the Ring” and “The Two Tours” in much the way a starving wolf might devour a Sirloin steak, and having seen the movie version of “The Fellowship of the Ring” twice. In fact, she’s ahead of me on “The Two Towers” as I write this, and takes great delight in teasing me about it. (I’ve read it a long time ago, but I’m rediscovering it as an adult.)

It’s fun to see her enjoying something so completely…

URL of the day: Who Cares?

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I have too many irons in the fire. Ever wonder what would happen if someone kept tossing balls to a juggler until the number of balls he was trying to keep in the air threatened to completely overwhelm him? That’s how I feel right now.

I have email sitting in my mailbox that I haven’t even had time to answer in the last three weeks…