Touching the Twilight
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Posted:Dec 17, 2007 10:37 pm
Last Updated:Dec 21, 2007 12:51 pm
12034 Views
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There is something quite awesome about coastal flying in the late afternoon in winter. The sun gets low in the sky and then sets altogether and the moon and the stars start to appear. The dunes and the low cliffs are deserted, except for the odd and its owner and one other free flyer to share the sky with. Along the clifftop are caravans, out of use in the winter, but you can see down through the windows and they have a kind of Marie Celeste spookiness about them. And then on to the village and the clifftop houses, bric-a-brac in the gardens. An old bus in the back of one being used as an outhouse. Every now and then a car’s headlights penetrate the view, but they pass quickly and the atmospheric moodiness returns.
I don’t have my altimeter switched on, so it doesn’t beep and there’s only the sound of the wind and the surf. Looking out for the gulls. Watching where they go, where they find lift, and following. Feeling the wind direction and how it plays on the land to make lift. Knowing that it’s only your knowledge and experience that keeps you in the sky. Thinking without words.
I just love that.
Not needing words to know what I’m doing and experience to the full.
Eventually, after fifty minutes the wind dies and in the half-light I’m losing depth perception along with height, and I’m not at ease riding close to the edge, especially where trees are involved. Not enough lift to make it back to the launch spot so I decide on the beach, turning into wind and landing like gossamer in soft, yielding sand.
Just about enough light left to pack away and walk back to the car for a long journey home in the dark. I kinda like that too. I enjoy driving and listening to the radio …… singing along to Ike and Tina Turner’s Nutbush City Limits, Steve Earl’s Satellite Radio’s amazing syncopation, Allman Brothers Statesboro Blues……..
More ………..
Yanno ‒ life is good.
It’s funny. You can launch and fly for a minute or two and feel thrilled your boots have left the ground, but stretch out the experience with a little skill and finesse and it’s hugely rewarding.
I can’t help thinking sex is a bit like that.
And you can do that with a minimum of equipment……….
Maybe with the exception of the odd fetish…….
Fancy a go in a flying harness? |
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Ten to Fifteen Seconds
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Posted:Dec 9, 2007 11:27 am
Last Updated:Dec 23, 2007 8:44 am
11497 Views
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There seem to be two types of people. There are those who see human happiness arising out of a tolerant live and let live set of principles, and those who say happiness only becomes possible if we adhere to a set of rules, and there are some of those who seek to write out the rules for the rest of us, because it is seen to be in all our interests that that be so.
Those who wish to (or have got into the habit to) tell the rest of us what to do, do so for a number of motives, from sustaining their own power niche within our society to genuinely well-meaning and altruistic intentions, and sometimes the motives are mixed. But the act of creating rules is in itself an act of expressing power ‒ perhaps the key reason why in the UK lawyers are the group of professionals whose working practices have been least affected by the cult of performance management and target-setting.
You’ve got to be careful about such people, partly because power to regulate opens up the possibilities for conspiracy to occur, but more likely that for the most part they are not that much smarter than you or I, and in trying to control our lives with less than the level of competence needed they have the unwitting capability of creating chaos.
You just need to look at the way government departments have been found to mislay and lose valuable personal data. When the banking details of 25 million Brits are lost by some minor civil servant and his boss is penalised by losing his job ……. and then being given an even better government job within weeks you can’t help but wonder. And this is a government that wants a national database to support a nationwide identity card scheme……
The desire to control blended with sheer incompetence is scary.
Which is where 10 to 15 seconds comes into the story.
There are senior news broadcasting executives in the UK who wish to put a 10-15 second delay between live broadcast and the audience. The public would be protected from any unexpected, distressing and even horrific images in emerging news stories. The reason given is that in the 9/11 disaster the harrowing images of office workers falling to their deaths was broadcast live to the world, and that through respect for a dying person, his relatives, and to protect the sensitivities of some of the rest of us it would have been better if it could have been spot-edited out. CBC, the US news network did subsequently edit it out of repeat footage on the basis that it was voyeuristic and exploitative, despite the objections of the journalists on their news team. One still image of a falling man, his body parallel to the lines of the stricken tower, particularly caused a wide range of reactions.
I am sensitive to the reactions of people, but such images are iconic and have a symbolic meaning far exceeding the reality ‒ in much the same way as the equally harrowing images of the Hindenberg disaster, the relief of concentration camps, the piles of skulls in Cambodia or the single soldier shot in action in the Spanish Civil War. Furthermore, simply banning an image from the television does not stop its presence on the internet. Events cannot be undone and in a media age history is much less easily rewritten. The shift of media attention moved rapidly from encountering the horror of the event and coming to terms with it to stories of human heroism and the human spirit and America triumphing over adversity. I don’t want in any way to belittle the phenomenal bravery of firefighters, police, emergency services and countless “ordinary” individuals, but an editorial decision is ultimately a political one, and a managed shift in perception away from encountering the awfulness of human destruction to pride and admiration for strength against adversity, along with anger against the enemy made “the axis of evil” concept easier to fabricate and promote, and that meant we not only went to Afghanistan to choke off the al Qaeda training camps, which may be justified in the defence of the nation, to an adventure in Iraq, in which the tragedy of human destruction has repeated itself a hundredfold and more, and whose justification seems increasingly suspect.
Yet it would be oversimplistic to suggest that there has been a cynical barrier placed between ourselves and the awful truth. I do think that horror spawns denial ‒ we write our own scripts ‒ and I do think that avoiding encountering the stark pain of reality’s sting is something that’s very human, while at the same time that base human streak for voyeurism does remain ‒ I’m not someone who slows down on the highway to ogle at other people’s misfortunes but I know many who do, and on the hill when I’m free-flying if there’s nothing I can do to help a downed pilot because others got there first and are doing the necessaries I’m best not getting in others’ ways. But I’m aware in all of us there is a dark curiosity that borders and creeps into the unhealthy.
However, in sanitising the truth we deny ourselves some degree of empathy with human reality, so when we go to war, for example, the dark genius of stealth bombers, predators, GPS-guided systems and all the other hi-tech paraphernalia spellbinds us and blinds us to the macabre and prosaic damage to life and limb, each event a personal tragedy, with the full range of emotions we felt on 9/11, only it usually happens on a much smaller stage. And that has its own indifferent cruelty, and breeds hatred just as effectively.
“You want the truth?” Jack Nicholson’s character chillingly says in A Few Good Men. “You can’t handle the truth!”
And within that lies the whole problem when those in power want to control what we see and hear.
The trusting part of me believes in the benign motive of protecting us all from deep hurt that can be caused by shocking imagery that might just appear in live broadcast. The less trusting part of me believes that what we see through our eyes to the world, already a distorted window for pre-recorded material, becomes distorted in the reality we see. To some degree it already is. As long as there are news cameramen individual discretion will be applied, and that on the whole does protect us from disturbing images on prime time tv, but does it really need another layer of regulation? Who will be making the 10-15 second decision, and who will be leaning on them? Will political spin doctors influence live broadcasts at political events, for example, to prevent political embarrassment? The BBC has already been bullied and its Director General forced to resign over the David Kelly affair and the allegation that the government had lied over WMD in Iraq (Dr David Kelly, a former weapons inspector in Iraq, subsequently committed suicide). There was no doubt that the BBC was intimidated from further bold broadcasting and its professed independence badly bruised. Would such a ruling, meant no doubt for well-intended reasons, be open to abuse?
The truth is I don’t know, but with a state that seeks ever more control over our lives, that has demonstrated a strong desire to influence the media along with a degree of incompetence when it comes to respecting personal information about its citizens I just can’t be sure.
Ten to fifteen seconds, ironically the time taken to fall the distance, is such a short time to change history after all.
Picture shows a sculpture carved into limestone at Tout Quarry near Portland on the South Coast of England. Called "The Falling Man" it quite clearly is a homage to the photograph. Lest we ever forget....... |
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Hey baby, I gotta say thanks.....
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Posted:Dec 5, 2007 5:33 pm
Last Updated:Dec 15, 2007 4:26 pm
11149 Views
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Hey baby I’ve gotta say thanks
For the sucks and the fucks and the wanks.
Came so many times.
(Hey, honey, that rhymes!)
I ended up shootin’ out blanks.
© warmandsexy52 2007 |
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5
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Dying to be green
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Posted:Nov 30, 2007 1:43 pm
Last Updated:Mar 1, 2008 4:08 am
12383 Views
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I drive into work every day. I don’t have political issues with public transport ‒ just that it would not be an easy journey, it would be both much more expensive, uncomfortable and time-consuming. Better to be stuck in traffic listening to the radio or a favourite CD than being treated worse than livestock on bus and train. I actually think the evolution of civilisation is about us all having a better quality of life than our ancestors had, and I see no reason why we should look backwards.
I appreciate that this makes me a bit of a pariah in some environmentalists’ eyes, but my choice is not that I’m selfish but that there is no credible alternative. There are those who would like me to take the healthy alternative. Well it would take me a total of eight hours’ daily travelling if I walked and even in medieval times anything beyond four hours for a mere serf like me would be seen as untenable.
But then I could cycle, I suppose. Cycling is being promoted by the green lobby as the way to travel in the city. We even have a trishaw (tricycle rickshaw) taxi service in the middle of London, despite the fact that the levels of safety for the passengers would be totally unacceptable for a black cab, actively promoted by Ken Livingston, the Mayor of London through the organisation he heads up ‒ Transport for London.
But driving into London every day what I see of cyclists simply scares me. The reason why I don’t cycle is that it’s too risky. Now as a free-flyer I think I have a fairly well tuned sense of risk, since it comes into play to a greater or lesser extent every time I launch, and at the same time I don’t think I’m particularly timid. There are bikes weaving inbetween powered vehicles, many not having any due regard for the rules of the road, including running red lights at will. I’ve seen cyclists even avoiding the cycle lanes and weaving around on the main road, and all this happens with apparent impunity. You hardly ever see a cyclist being stopped by the police for traffic violations.
Then bicycles on the main highway are uninsured vehicles. If a car hits a bicycle it is always the car’s liability. When I paraglide I’m required to be covered on a third party basis for up to two million pounds. (I almost landed on two little old ladies once. I shouted and they ducked. I went over to them and said I was sorry to scare them. “Oh, there’s no need to apologise, young man” one said. “We haven’t had so much excitement for years!”)
I know of a number of cases of pedestrians hit by cyclists, and recently one was killed by a cyclist doing 30 mph on the pavement (admittedly that didn’t happen in London). He was prosecuted under some Victorian law about riding a velocipede with careless abandon, and given a twelve month suspended sentence and 300 hours’ community service. A motorcyclist causing a death in a similar way recently got three years for causing death by dangerous driving.
Then again there are no enforceable measures for protecting the cyclist him/herself. A large number still don’t wear helmets and it’s only a minority who wear fluorescent jackets, so they can be seen. There is no body or spinal protection. It just seems plain crazy to me. The first thing you learn about in free-flying is protecting yourself when you are falling, and kevlar and carbon fibre helmets, shock absorbent harnesses, padded flying suits and specially designed boots see to that. (We’re almost as well protected as american football players, lol.) Practically everyone I know who has ridden a bike for any length of time falls off it, and in traffic that can be, and sometimes is lethal. I know someone who died that way.
Now Transport for London actively encourages cycling. You can see billboards by the roadside promoting it.
So what I’m wondering is ‒ why have there been no changes in legislation, particularly with respect to insurance liability and personal safety? Why is it so hard to find an unbiased study of recent bicycle mortality rates? There’s plenty of pro-cycling literature, so why is it that cyclist mortality rates after 2002 are so hard to come by? And why is so little done about an ever-increasing number of increasingly aggressive cyclists who blatantly break the Highway Code?
In an increasingly anti-car London (the mayor has never driven a car at all) the motorist is being hit with a hardening iron fist, with an army of cameras trapping his or her every false move, penalties for not paying the congestion charge exceeding those of a number of criminal activities, and performance paid traffic wardens predatory beyond belief.
And the bicycle is a significant part of that anti-car strategy.
Within a decade we will see whole new technologies and energy management strategies outdating the petrol and diesel engines when it comes to cars, and I would rather see creativity solve our problems than heavy-handed control, that in the case of London impacts on global warming by a figure smaller than 0.001%. I understand and take seriously the need to address planetary issues like climate management, but when a coal-fired power station is coming online every five days in China it is a bit like going to the doctor for a pimple while being in denial about the tumour elsewhere. And it’s not so long ago when the highly idealistic dream of the Russian revolution changed into Stalin’s nightmare. Simply because we’re fervent about an issue is no excuse for not maintaining a sense of balance and perspective.
It’s not that I’m against change, or even against cyclists. If only all that money I pay as a motorist went into developing an efficient, user-friendly urban transport infrastructure for the city as a whole, so I could get to work easily, or that in doing so the roads became good and safe places for me to cycle. In truth 83% of such outgoings don’t! They’re creamed off elsewhere…….
In neglecting to take issue with increasing numbers of bicycles on the road because it might inhibit cycling on London’s streets (even are being encouraged to cycle to school, with financial incentives to schools who encourage them to do so), a clear message is being sent to those who ride them. Some cyclists ride as if they own the road, and are above the law and I have seen an increase in aggressiveness, rage and downright dangerous behaviour among the cyclists I’ve come across.
A well-intended environmental dream is turning into a ghastly nightmare……..
As hundreds of cyclists every year are literally dying to be green. |
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4
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Turkey Feet
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Posted:Nov 27, 2007 1:10 pm
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2007 12:22 pm
11327 Views
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Woohoo!
My wing is coming back from the workshop. It's only been a week and a half, the weather has been appalling, I've had a shocking cold (er man-flu, lol) and had a ton of work to take home.
But without it I've felt so grounded......
Or should I say I've so felt grounded!
Whatever!
As if I've so got turkey feet.
Anyone care to join me for a gobble?  |
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4
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Elated ...... Fellated......
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Posted:Nov 24, 2007 12:30 am
Last Updated:Dec 5, 2007 11:16 pm
11515 Views
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she laughed
as up his shaft
she drew one
long
lick
then with a flick
of her tongue
she opened wide
he slipped inside
such joy
such luck
she starts to suck
he reached
between
her parting thighs
his fingers stroking
her moist prize
and slipped inside
her hot
wet
hole
she'd caught his
ardour,
sex
and
soul.
定armandsexy52 2007 |
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6
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Swinging It
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Posted:Nov 13, 2007 11:18 pm
Last Updated:Dec 26, 2007 2:30 am
12137 Views
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I learned it quite quick ‒
Swinging my dick
I perfected it to be
My new party trick
It wasn't much hassle
Attaching that tassel
Though some said the gesture
Was really just facile
So I did some swirls
And I did some twirls
But my overexuberance
Frightened the girls
Nope! I won’t repeat
This incredible feat
My talented penis
Will now be discreet
I’d advise any male
Perusing this tale
A cock-focused intro
Is likely to fail
定&s 2007
Inspired by [post 1111380] by VCF1962 and I thought that if titties could have tassles why can't lil ol dickies. We boys don't want to be left outta the tassle swinging fun!
There are such things. Pic shows a penis tassle which doubles, since you've gotta be pervy enough to wear one, as a clit-o-nine-tails.  |
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15
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Remembrance
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Posted:Nov 11, 2007 6:01 am
Last Updated:Nov 28, 2007 11:17 pm
11467 Views
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In the never ending story
I do not know what’s meant by glory.
A moment’s fate ‒ a life to sever,
In one brief instant ‒ gone forever.
A good life stolen, still in youth,
There’s nothing glorious ‒ that’s the truth.
Under orders, with no say,
Each one a life did give away.
Do not be fooled by how they’re armed,
They stand for us and may be harmed.
Remember well the mortal brave
And how for us their lives they gave.
Remember too, not just this day
Those who'll also pass this way
定&s 2007
I do not think we should have invaded Iraq, but I do think that those brave servicemen and women deserve the very highest respect. It's not the soldiers, sailors and airmen and women who make the decisions, but simply place themselves in harm's way so the rest of us do not have to. This is real bravery, and those who die or are permanently injured are truly worthy of our remembrance.
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12
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Life Gets so Mean at Hallowe'en
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Posted:Oct 31, 2007 2:15 pm
Last Updated:Nov 30, 2007 1:21 pm
11645 Views
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I've just handed out a supply of lollipops made from brussels sprouts dipped in chocolate to the trick or treaters......
And now to retire indoors....
Only to see those glinting red eyes and hearing the maniacal laughter from the shadows.....
Hmmmmmmmm!
Time to take the medication......
And now for something really scary.......
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14
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Impassioned Intrusion
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Posted:Oct 22, 2007 2:42 am
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2007 2:43 am
12242 Views
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To feel my hard and horny dick
Slide in the groove of your desire
Your juices make the motion slick
To feel the heat of sexual fire
My shaft riding between those lips
Its head engaging with your clit
With sensuous motion of our hips
I plunge it deep within your slit
The sultry nectar of your hole
The succulence of yielding walls
Is swallowing my fleshy pole
And ripening my lusty balls
Your ass cheeks in my eager hands
Each feeling like a fleshy plum
Electric feelings in those glands
That make me want to cum and cummmm
I feel you tighten on my cock
Your sighs invite me to explode
Pulsating while as hard as rock
I fill you with my liquid load
Our juices mix, I see your smile
I love you in the afterglow
We’ll fuck again in a short while
Our hips move gently ‒ move real slow.
© warmandsexy52 2007 |
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20
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Yeah! ........ Right!
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Posted:Oct 14, 2007 11:03 pm
Last Updated:Nov 2, 2007 12:19 am
11582 Views
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Hertfordshire police in England actually did put up “Don’t Commit Crime” notices.
As if it would actually stop hoodies getting up to mischief on public housing estates.
Yeah …… right!
And driving across the high Pennines there was a double bend sign, and written underneath was the word “Think.”
Yeah …… right!
I started pondering the meaning of my existence on this mortal coil and almost came off the road.
And then there’s this whole patronising thing about public transport in London. Now I realise it’s fashionable about reducing our carbon footprint from a clown sized size 12 to a dainty size 5, but to print “My Other Car’s a Bus” on the back is ludicrous in the extreme.
As if I have a jerky, overcrowded, dirty public transport that I invariably end up standing up in vehicle for a second car.
Yeah …… right!
And then there’s Britain’s Health Secretary announcing that obesity in the UK was a problem on a scale with global warming.
OMG! I never knew overweight people would be able to make the sea level rise…
So there I was yesterday, soaring the Dover Cliffs on my paraglider, worried that before I tried to land on the shoreline they’d all rush to the autumn sea simultaneously.
Yeah …… right! |
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14
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Hot and Cold
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Posted:Oct 12, 2007 3:05 pm
Last Updated:Oct 26, 2007 7:18 am
12500 Views
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I was in an Oxford Street department store the other day when the call of nature came loud and clear, so I head through the maze of sumptuous thises and wonderful that’s to find the store’s toilets.
Finding is not quite the right word.
Finding Eldorado in the depths of the Amazon Basin would be easier.
A lot easier at the rate the trees are disappearing, but hey, this isn’t supposed to be a political post. The shop staff are really helpful in getting me there…..
Eventually……..
So I point percy at the porcelain, heave a sigh of relief and let it all out.
Now this site is all about the promise of exquisite orgasms and those who claim that they can bring them your way ‒ yes indeedy ‒ but c’mon, isn’t finally being able to relieve the agony of a bladder under more pressure than a fully charged aqualung one of life’s most underrated pleasures?
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
And now……..
Yes, I am a good boy. Fully housetrained and totally deslobbed. I do wash my hands. I even put the toilet seat down (sorry guys ‒ I know some of you might think that’s selling out) but that’s another matter.
So I go over to the sink and there’s these two spring operated taps. I squidge a little liquid soap then push the left one down and out comes scalding hot water.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Press the right one and out comes icy water ‒ cold enough to give anyone chilblains.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
So I pass from one to the other…….
Scalds…
Chilblains…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Scalds…
Chilblains…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
And after about three seconds the taps cut out. I think they put glue in the liquid soap because my hands still feel sticky between the fingers….
So I press them again…..
Scalds…
Chilblains…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Scalds…
Chilblains…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Now it occurs to me that this is a particularly masochistic experience, so I decide to stop. It also comes to mind that I had come across this research that when Mr Average Joe (that’s me folks) reaches for Little Mr Average Joe (he gets me into trouble, but I’m kinda attached to him) there are more microbes on his fingers than there are on his dick.
Really, the sign should read, “Now Wash Your Penis Please.”
“Oh no!” I think. “My dick is now contaminated.”
Only one solution.
Squidge!
Massage well in….
Press-press!
Eeeeeeeek!
Ooooooyah!
Eeeeeeeek!
Ooooooyah!
Jeez! This is painful!
But hands clean, dick clean. I can face the world and all it has to offer with total confidence of squeaky clean potential genital contact. A sort of colgate ring of confidence down below.
Indeed, ready for the hot and cold BJ game once posted by the raunchy, delightful and very entertaining Canadian blogger saddletrampsask. I don’t think the post exists any more - although her blog most certainly does, but it was a brilliant and deliciously pervy idea.
The man would be blindfolded and his ladyfriend would alternate drinking a nice hot cuppa tea (that’s the English version ‒ coffee or even drinking chocolate work just as well), sucking on an ice cube and taking his dick into her mouth.
Cumming round for a cuppa, hehehe! Mmmmmmmm!
But I digress ….. which I’ve been doing most of this post.
Tell me.
Why do they never have plugs in sinks with sprung taps? |
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To link to this blog (warmandsexy52) use [blog warmandsexy52] in your messages.
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