We never escape that which haunts us

Because we do not want to.

The following is one of W.B. Yeats' less accessible poems (for which reason, I use the cut) concerning the fate of those touched by the fay.

( The Man Who Dreamed of Fairyland )

A bit about sex

Saw Secretary again last night. I enjoy that film a lot. BDSM isn't my thing, but the film has so much fine nuance and real in-the-throes desire. Porn leaves me cold, and films trying too hard without any real edge (nine and a half weeks kind of stuff) just bores me. I don't know why - maybe it's because my backbrain needs a plot, needs desire more than aquisition, enjoys the game and the story, for which reason I have a stockpile of flirtations and semi-sexual situations in my past I have seldom if ever taken to their natural conclusions. Some say it's because I am a rotten tease. Oh sad and evil wrongsters!* I just don't want the story to end, to become ordinary.

I enjoy this film because even Happy Ever After isn't ordinary. Secretary turns me on if I let it. I love the way that, despite the heroine's evident victimhood, she is the hunter. I love the layers. In fact, I love the dance of predator and (willing) prey in all its changing forms, wherever I find it.

All this makes me sound really horny, and I suppose in my head, I could be. However my body, with rueful apologies, is a tired little beastie. We're meant to be going out with chums tonight, but I don't see myself crawling beyond the front door!

*The English Language has been my master for so long I occasionally like to punish it; stops it from getting complacent.