behind closed doors

He paced up and down, the tight leather clinging to his wiry body. He could feel the sweat coming out of his pores, dripping down his ball sack. A sadistic grin crept across his face. No one will hear her scream in here not a god damn soul.

Leather. There was nothing else on this green earth quite like it . He realized his love for the material at an early age and used his marbles sack as a little pouch for his testicles when he was alone. It was only when he found a wounded dog on the road that he realized how much he loved the feel of leather and blood together.

But this was not a time to reminisce, this was a time to kill or at the very least hurt. As was his usual custom he got down on all fours and crawled up to his little rose. He didn't like looking into their eyes at this point, preferring instead to imagine how scared they must look. Right up to when his head touched their forehead, when he was close enough to hear them making a pathetic noise despite the gag.

When their heads touched, he'd slowly look up to see their faces, their taped open eyes, their battered humiliated bodies nailed down to the floor. Now that she and her were nose to nose, his eyes narrowed as she shook her head from side to side frantically. This had been a real learning curve for him. Originally, he had not tied their heads back so his first managed to break his nose when she head butted him. But we learn from our mistakes he thought out loud.

Licking her check slowly he could feel the intense build up in his testicles. He was almost ready to cream in his pants but not until he heard her first screams. That was what he cherished the most. Slowly undoing her gag, he started to moan, rubbing his cock against the floor. Rose as predicted screamed. She screamed for her mother, as they always do after so much torture she screamed until she couldn't scream anymore until she was just panting. Until there was nothing left...

Hangover talk...?

Fuxing Road is a special place. I've always felt good walking along it. Especially on a sunny spring or autumn afternoon. Of course anyone who has walked along Fuxing Road will know how ridiculously long it is so I'd just like to clarify that I'm specifically talking about a short stretch in the French Concession.

Today, as Jane and I were taking a stroll along that magical stretch, I couldn't help but feel dread. That would be the same dread I've been feeling for months but what really made me want to write about it today was something I heard in a speech by Steve Jobs this afternoon. Apparently he'd ask himself the same question every single morning.

'If I know I'm going to die today, am I happy with where I am in my life?'

I'm not sure if that's word for word but it was something like that. If the answer is 'NO' over a period of time, then it's time for a change. But change to what...? I always fancied myself as a creative type, but honestly, doesn't everyone deep down want to be a creative type? Don't we all secretly want to be timeless with our words, paintings, movies or pictures being used, loved, revered by the generations that come along after we have departed? Whoever dreamt of being an Operations Manager when they were a kid?

So what to do? I talked to Jane about it and maybe the message that came out of me was a bit negative. She's sat opposite me quietly reading a magazine and looking worried. I guess I can't see any value in what I do and that's a real killer. What makes it worse is that I'm not entirely sure what I do anymore, it's certainly not what my job title states. Flexibility is ruining my life! Too much of it makes you lose focus of the target, the point, the objective, that thing that made you want to take the job in the first place... What made me take this job? Maybe it was desperation, I just needed something to do.

So why the current dread? Try 3 weeks of training to people who couldn't care less on topics I have no interest in. I think I fear crowds and yet I've almost always worked with them. I dislike other people's ideologies and work ethics and yet I have never really worked for myself. I don't like reading books on theory and yet my field is theory heavy. How the fuck did I get here? I mean, it's as though I've gone out of my way to make my existence as difficult as possible. Is this normal behavior? Does anyone else do this?

So earlier, I asked what I should do. I actually have no idea. Starting a blog was my first reaction. Whether this helps or not remains to be seen. Maybe I should start asking the Steve Jobs question, but if I don't do anything about the answer, it will only succeed in making me feel even more wretched. Actually with my track record of doing things that will obviously make me feel awful, asking that very question is probably exactly what I will do. Consistency is the key!