Steellover

Ah yes, Motley Crue.... a band who I absolutely idolized in my teens and who released what I consider one of my favorite rock/mainstream metal albums of all time.  This would be, "Shout at the Devil."  An album so utterly kickassingly great that even the band themselves never came close to topping it.  Of course, sadly, every band has their shelf life and when you see footage of Motley Crue today, tiredly gyrating around on stage to pre-recorded versions of their songs, you realize their shelf life is long expired.  That's okay though.  No, I probably wouldn't go pay money to see them (or what's left of them) live these days, but I will always reminisce...  Yeah, everyone gets older, but the flame that burns brightest burns fastest and during their prime, they lived an excess of debauchery and partying that nobody could touch- and as expected, that kind of living catches up to you eventually.

When "Shout at the Devil" came out in 1983, it gave a loud boot to the head of the mainstream rock scene.  Here was music that was dangerous, edgy, and dirty, but accessable to pretty much any mall-rat kid, cool enough for the rock kids, but edgy enough to piss off their parents.  And unlike, say, Venom, who used the same shock-rock satanic imagery (to a much greater degree than Motley Crue did to be fair) Motley Crue were better musicians, more polished, and simply a far better band.  I mean, almost every song on this thing kicks ass. From the simple anthemic pounding chorus of the title track, to the headbanging catchiness of "Looks that Kill" and "Red Hot," to the dirty scuzziness of the Beatles cover and "Ten Seconds to Love" this is an album that grabs you by the balls and makes you want to grab your tennis racket and form an air guitar band. There was enough genuine grit and energy here to satisfy the most devout rockers.  And it catapulted them to stardom.   But sadly, it seemed like they fell victim to their own debauchery, because pretty much everything they did afterwards sounded jaded and half-assed, or at least, never really sounded like they had the same hunger.  They just wimped out.  After a while, many people turned to the harder edged stuff like Metallica, Slayer, and Exodus to get their fix, as bands like this were heavier and more abrasive than the Crue ever were. 

So that brings us to today's hard rock. I turn on the radio and hear a ton of bands that all sound like they want to be either Linkin Park or Breaking Benjamin.  Heavy, abrasive guitars but boring riffs, emotional singy-songy vocals mixed with baby-tantrum screams, all kinds of mechanical skronking and just overly whiny music.  And just way too many cookie-cutter bands doing the same thing:  Pop Evil, Killswitch Engage, Falling in Reverse, Blackveil Brides, I Prevail, Wage War, Hollywood Undead, Sleep Token, Sleep Theory, Token Theory, I could go on but just naming these bands makes me sleepy.  They all pretty much sound alike to me.  Maybe because I'm older now and don't feel the angsty emotional thing and can't connect with the music anymore.  That may be PART of it, but the simple truth is, none of them have anywhere near the grit, catchiness, energy and sense of subversive danger that Motley Crue did with "Shout at the Devil."  It's just too feely-angsty-whiny for me.  Now to be fair, there is still some good millennial hard rock out there.  Ghost are pretty slick sounding but they do remind me of old Blue Oyster Cult, in a good way.  Volbeat still keeps the flame of old-school traditional metal burning, so does Avenged Sevenfold (to a lesser extent.)  And I've always kind of liked Chevelle for some reason, even though they do have a bit too much in common with some of the above bands.

And also, to be fair, by the end of the 80's, the whole glam rock thing was pretty played out.  Motley Crue were still making music but none of it was very interesting, and there was, much like today, way too many cookie cutter hair metal bands clogging the scene.  Things were ripe for a change in the 90s.  Maybe that will happen soon in the 2020's, and a new set of bands will reinvigorate things with some fresh musical energy.

But before that happens, I'm gonna give Motley Crue's classic and much loved 1983 LP "Shout at the Devil" another spin. "So come now children of the beast, be strong and SHOUT AT THE DEVIL!"

This should not be construed as a religious post, because I don't want to be divisive or violate the terms of service.  So take it at surface value.

When someone with a ton of sway and influence in the world, dedicates their life's work towards improving the lives of the poor and oppressed, who tirelessly advocates for environmental stewardship, and preaches a message of tolerance, inclusion, and infinite divine love, it leaves an ache, a deep sadness, even despair, when they pass away.  

And when someone else comes along to step into that role, pledging to carry on that work, to continue to push for love, tolerance, environmental stewardship, and championing the causes of the poor and oppressed, it gives us hope that maybe the world, broken though it is, can still be improved. Maybe we can turn it around.  Too much divisiveness, hate and oppression in the world today, and it is hopeful that someone with great influence can reach people, give them hope and love, and help heal the world.

That's all for today.  Tomorrow I'll talk about something more fun, maybe about music or something.

After work, I went on a long evening bike ride, and it kicked my ass. Normally, by the end of the fall, after seven months of riding, I'm in good enough shape that it is merely strenuous (but fun) but after five months of NOT riding, the first few rides always kick my ass as I struggle to get back into riding shape. So, this is like my third or fourth ride of the season and the longest one since late October. It was a good ass kicking, and I'm tired as heck, but it's a good tired.  The hills felt a lot harder, but the downhill still was as exhilarating as always, and the hills were green and in bloom and thankfully the summer heat and smoke- always a pain- was not in effect yet. It was a cool 60 degrees, maybe upper 50's at the top. I love this time of year when you can have a great snowboard session one day, and a great mountain bike ride just a couple days later.

There are many negative things about where I live- but I'm very grateful for the positive.  So this was a good day.  The ride kicked my ass.  Sometimes we all need a good ass kicking to feel alive.  ('Course it would feel better with Mistress and a paddle but I'll take the next best thing!)  Happy Spring!

There is something so exhilarating about a perfect descent.  Just the pure animal joy of tearing down a steep, snowy hill with a thin plank of wood strapped to your feet, on the edge of control, almost skipping over bumps, just carving and tearing into the snow as you pick your line.  It's like flying, only indescribably awesome. 

Today was a good day.  Some days on the mountain, the surface conditions are less than ideal; too hard-packed, tracked up, or icy. Other days, you are socked in by fog and low visibility, meaning you can't even see where you are going, or the change in grade or terrain at your feet. That can actually be kind of dangerous.  And if you goggles get fogged up on those days- you're pretty much done.

But today, it was soft, spring like corn snow.  My favorite conditions.  You could get good speed and tear through it without hitting any ice or hard bumps, but it wasn't so soft that it was slow and wet-cement like.  It was also the last day of the snow season here.  I made it up about a dozen times this year which is pretty good. Sometimes we forget how lucky we are here.  Other places, season passes cost over a thousand dollars, a lift ticket runs over a hundred, and that's after a four to six hour drive plus factor in the cost of lodging, gas, and so on. Here, a season pass is affordable, and it's just a 35-40 minute drive up the hill right outside town.  

But it's over for the year.  Until next December anyway. Time to stash the board in the closet and focus on mountain biking and summer activities.  It is spring, after all.  A renewal time.  Maybe I'll take the board in to get waxed and tuned; it definitely needs it. But for now I'll remember some of those runs, shredding and ripping down those hills, giving me the same wild animal thrills I had as a little kid pretending I was Luke Skywalker flying through the Death Star trenches. That is an awesome feeling.

7:00 AM.  Alarm goes off. Hit the snooze button.

7:09 AM: Alarm goes off again.  Better hop out of bed this time. Dont want to be lazy.

7:45 AM: Leave for work.  Same old commute; there's the chevy with the fucked up paint job, there's that blue minivan with the big mercedes sign, okay passing the cafe with the big rooster out front, pull into the parking lot, here's Brian Oswald's "One Pee" mobile. (license plate says "1P.")

8:00 AM log onto system and begin working on stuff.

8:45 AM: get coffee.

8:55 AM: Resume working on stuff.  

10:30 AM: Participate in office led calisthenics.  Yes, our office really does do this.  I don't mind though.  Its kind of fun, like P.E. for office workers.

11:00 AM: Finish one project. Start working on another one.

12:00 AM: Lunch.

1:00 PM: Continue working on the stuff. 

2:00 PM: Whoops, Ben Skafford needs a quick turnaround. It's an emergency.  Better drop everything and go hop on that.

2:45 PM:  Thankfully Skafford's project wasn't too complicated.  Back onto what I was doing before...

5:00 PM:  yyyeeeabbbaddaabbado!

5:25 PM:  Arrive home. Realize it takes ten minutes longer going the other way.

5:30 PM: Check e-mail. If I feel inspired I'll post something on The Cage, otherwise I'll just watch youtube videos.

6:00 PM: Take an evening walk, or mountain bike ride now that it's getting lighter out in the evenings.

8:00 PM: Cook something for dinner

9:00 PM:  People always be e-mailing me about stuff and want answers.  Have to sit here and answer e-mails.

11:00 PM:  Get ready for bed.  Daydream about being submissive and lazy, and not having to do all this stuff.... Before falling asleep.

So, I went to an 80th birthday party last weekend.  No, not mine... I'm not even close to that old yet, but hopefully I'll make it there someday.

And I hope that when I do, I will have as many friends who care, and who will want to share it with me, as she did.  

There were people of all ages here.  Every age from eight to, well, eighty- and every age in between; 20somethings, thirtysomethings, and so on. She is active in both the arts community and local conservation efforts- and still is very much so.  Her heart is in the right place on almost everything. She still gets after it, still goes on back country adventures.  So all of us got together, ate tacos, drank red wine, shared stories of back country adventures, talked about art, and everything else.  A total raging evening.  People like this, you feel grateful to have known, and grateful that by knowing them, they have enriched your own life.  

Okay so I'm in this really weird mood today, really all weekend long.  Tense, heart pounding, anxious and in a near constant state of arousal. Am I oversharing here? Well maybe. 

I do occasionally write erotic fiction.  It's a cathartic experience, and a way to live vicariously through the characters, experiencing everything I would hope for in a relationship.  So I just wrapped up one of these and submitted it, and it's left me in this hyper-sexualized submissive mood.  But fiction and fantasy aren't reality are they.  And that leads me to what I wanted to post about, which is how we shape our reality.

I hope this isn't too cringe, or again, I don't mean to over-share.  But a few years ago, I had an experience with a woman that was incredibly powerful and it shook me to the core, and ever since I've been chasing that high. I'm not even sure I SHOULD share this, because a gentleman shouldn't kiss and tell, but she was a pro domme, and, well, being a kinky submissive here in a sexually conservative can be a lonely experience. So I turned to someone- anyone- to fill the void of companionship.  I was not in a relationship at the time, and eventually realized that this "professional" relationship couldn't give me the fulfillment I was seeking.

She had started off by flogging paddling, and spanking me until my ass was red and there were tears in my eyes.  That flogger and that fiberglass rod really HURT!  Right up till the edge. I remember the fear, the sweat, the tension, the anticipation of waiting for the next strike, not wanting to use the safe word, but wanting to be strong for her.  

She also knew, because I had promised her (and kept that promise) that I had not orgasmed since the last time I saw her, two weeks ago. 

So she ordered me to kneel in front of a garbage bucket and stroke it.  The whole time, saying how little, tiny, and pathetic my cock was, how I could never satisfy any woman with that tiny pathetic cock.  Telling me about how her much larger lovers, "Real Men" had filled and stretched her, and put my limp and tiny cock to shame. In my mind I wanted to vicariously live through her lovers, admiring her tight body, and to be those guys. But of course, I just KNEW I never could.  Finally the verbal humiliation, and the degradation of being ordered to jerk off into a waste basket was so powerful that I was overwhelmed. I felt my whole body shake almost convulsively when I let go into the waste basket.  "Poor little boy had a boo-boo...maybe you need to wear diapers!" she had said, mockingly.  Then forced my head into the bucket and ordered me to clean up the mess.

Gross?  Degrading? Humiliating? Yes. All these things.

And here's the real problem:  It was the most powerful, and intense orgasm I've ever had.  The feeling was indescribably powerful, a thousand times better than any vanilla sex could ever be. A thousand times more erotic.  And in the presence of such a sexy, hot, and wonderful, understanding woman, it was utterly amazing. I wanted nothing more than to just grovel at her feet and bask in her power.  I was in a buzz for days about it, and now that I've been reliving it in my head, I'm can almost feel that same buzz.

And I've been chasing that high ever since.

If you've read this far and not quit in disgust (Because I wouldn't blame you if you did) then thanks for reading- but you see why this is a big problem.  

This is simply not condusive to a real healthy fulfilling romantic or sexual relationship.  Nobody but a pro would be into this.  It has become about "I need...." and what "I need" is just too out there for most people.  That's not how a healthy relationship works (even a kinky one.)

So from here on, I will condition myself to think about what SHE needs.  Taking care of HER wants. And if her wants are just straight vanilla sex and she wants me to be a gallant, manly stud, then I will gladly re-train my mind to derive the same satisfaction from being that for her.  This is the problem when you push things too far. It becomes like a drug, an addiction, and you live your life in vain trying to chase that high.

So anyway, sorry if this was too cringe.  Thanks for reading.  I maybe shouldnt' have foisted this on you but it is a true story and I am all about being open and honest.

I haven't posted anything in a while so I thought I would give a quick update.  Yeah I'm doing fine I guess, it's finally turning to spring, blah blah blah and all that. So, anyway, sometimes I will read something on the forums and it will inspire me to create a post, based on a particular topic.  In this case, it's being "ghosted."

I had met this amazing woman on a group outing. I thought she was amazing anyway.  Same age, similar interests, and we totally bonded over our love of the outdoors, among many other things.  I know this is a BDSM themed site, but I'll get this out of the way; she wasn't really "kinky" and I wasn't really going to go there with her, unless she had given a clear sign that she was, well, "Dominant."   She didn't, though, so I was content just to spend time with her and hang out as a typical romantic (albiet vanilla) couple.  Our first date was awesome: going to a jewelry making class, grinding and polishing a stone, followed by chinese food.  How many people can say they had a first date where they both came away with polished cabbed jewelry?

Anyway, we hit it off. I was pretty much digging her, though she was staying with family who lived an hour away, which made it difficult to get together regularly.  It was right before Christmas, and I had to visit family for the holidays, but while I was out of town we chatted and texted, shared photos, literally every day.  When I got back, we made plans to hang out, but she got sick (it WAS flu season so I don't think she was lying about that) and then she had some kind of family issues, and then, when I said I'd offer to drive out there, take her for a walk along the Snake River, and hunt agates in the hills, well, she was non-committal. 

And that was the last I ever heard from her.

And that sucked.  And no; there were no "Cringe" moments, or any arguments or awkwardness, or any instances where I might have messed up and let my inner kinky side accidentally show through;  I might have made a mistake like that in the past, but like I said I wasn't going there.  I was happy to find someone wonderful, amazing, attractive and cool- and that was fine with me. 

I have no idea what happened with her, or why she broke it off.  I do know that she seemed to be semi-nomadic, and never seemed content to stay in one place for very long.  For all I know, she had already left the state. When she was here, she was living with a couple half-brothers and more or less staying in her van with her dog.  She had lived in North Carolina, Colorado and more recently, Arkansas.  In other words, a free spirit, refusing to be tied down.  Her Linkedin page said she was a "Mom and homemaker" from North Carolina. Which added to the mystery.  She had never mentioned her kids or her ex-husband.  So that made me wonder, what was her past?  What was she running from?  I know that many people have baggage, but I didn't care.  Many people do.  I wanted to love and support her, and not judge her by her past.  But maybe that was why she ghosted me.  Maybe she was just afraid of being tied down again.  But in the end, I was grateful to have known her and spent the time with her that I did.

So that's all I got for today.

So this is sort of an update about something that happened to me a couple years back.  I won't repeat the whole incident, but I've gained a couple insights about things since then.

How it went down; I went to an adult hookup site, and found a profile that interested me.  An attractive redhead.with the tag line "A fierce chastity queen and fetish madame accepting proposals from submissive slaves who wish to be owned." Intrigued,  I investigated and it looked like her list of preferences and fetish ideas were close to mine, so I thought I'd follow up. I wasn't sure if she was just a pro, or someone looking for a deeper connection but at the time I was unattached and thought it might be worth checking out.  So I sent an introductory e-mail and asked "are you from my city?"  "Yes I am" was her short reply. Then I told her a little more about myself and thought I'd see if she wanted to meet for coffee and chat about interests, or, you know, just get to know you chit chat and see if there was a connection. One word reply: "Okay."  So I said, great! How about we meet Saturday early afternoon (1:00 PM) at this local coffee house?  "Sounds good." was the reply. 

In hindsight, it is clear that these were just auto-generated replies.    I had hoped to get her to open up a little more in the e-mail dialogue but I figured, well, maybe she'll open up more when we meet in person. But I was still rather apprehensive, and as it turned out I was probably not talking to ANYBODY but some computer algorithm generating auto-responses. So, that afternoon I texted her that I was on my way (no response, naturally) and when I got there- well, needless to say, there was no attractive redhead fierce chastity queen or fetish madame.  And the phone number I had for her was disconnected as soon as I tried to call her.

This all went down a couple years ago, back in February of 2023, and I talked about it here at the time, as I was kinda disappointed by the whole experience.  But a couple months later, I got curious, went back to that hookup site and really started digging around. I looked at ads from cities across the country.  Sure enough, there she was- same ad, same pictures, in a city 2000 miles away. But not only that, there were other ads with the exact same tagline and same text- but different photo sets!  And ads with the same woman's pictures- but different names, ages, and so on, to go with them.  And not just her- EVERY ad on that site was like that.  ("Hello, I'm so-and-so, possibly the worst high class mistress, but don't worry, we all say we're the best!" said several allegedly different people on there.)

It was all fake.  Every single ad on there.

I guess I should be glad; I wasn't taken for any money, and I've since heard horror stories about people being subject to blackmail after responding to the fake ads on this site. I don't know if that's true or not. So, no harm done but I still feel kinda dumb for being naive like that.

So then, I used a Google Image Search on the picture I had been drawn in by, just because I was curious.  It turns out the photos were taken from a popular TikTok model named Sylvanas, a self -described "Appalachian Goth", Bass player, and evolutionary biology major."  I don't spend much time browsing TikTok; to each their own but I consider it largely a waste of time, so I had no way of knowing how famous or popular she was.  And it should also be said that I have no hard feelings toward this Sylvanas person whatsoever. She obviously had nothing to do with those ads, and none of this was her fault. 

I guess the moral is, if you see someone on an adult dating site who may or may not be real- image search is a good tool to weed out the fakes and the scammers.

Oh dear Mistress, you give me fright

I'm even worse at math than Jack White

Write down things I don't understand

I'd rather be hit with your ruler if that was your plan

Oh how I'd have loved to be in your class

To feel the sting of your ruler on my bare assymptote

Instead I'll solve your puzzle like a good boy

You are so hot, I'd be your favorite toy

To tease and to teach while I kneel at your feet

But instead you order me, "class take your seat!" 

My real math teachers were not as beautiful or fun, 

but the answer, by the way is... Ten Point Six zero two eight seven five two one!