What do you see when you look at the image?

Almost got to the point of losing my temper. Almost. Now…it would be quite impossible to provoke me that way again.

At least while I am on guard.

It -was- a good day.

I read quite a few blogs - considerably more than are listed on this page. The numbers of diaries, journals, etc that I rift through is determined by how much time I find myself with that day. The ones on my page, and another less public blog, I check daily. I don’t like to spend too much time online so I visit for very specific purposes and stick to them.

In the morning is when I like to read. Women blog the most - and for the most part, are better at it than their male counterparts. There are times however, when a blogger is being irrational or emotional that I have to resist the urge to be analytically cold. The cruelty is generally along for the ride as well.

I remind myself that emotions aren’t connected to logic, even in myself, and I refrain from comment.

Unless you can really grasp my sadistic side - you won’t see me comment much at all, at least, not on a personal or emotional entry.

Politics are fair game.

…was a memory I had of a woman I owned.

Upon her skin I had carved my name in bold, bloody letters. The scar, still quite evident when we split, is an image I will carry with me for some time. It wasn’t done lightly, on my part or hers. It involved a glass of brandy - and eventually shards of broken glass. Her skin, rubbed, scented with the fine liquor, quivered under the edge. She cried when it happened. I licked the wounds with my tongue. Blood and brandy.

Now she wears my name forever. Others have likely traced the outline with their fingertips in a vain effort to erase the mark. It is a reminder to me not to be casual with my affection. I’m sure it reminds her much the same.