TMI Tuesday: Nostalgiarama

Doing this TMI Tuesday thing for want of something to do to get my brain working.

1. What ’80s or ’90s fashion did you love but would be embarrassed to wear today, even if it came back in style?

I didn't follow fashion - in fact, I often tried to subvert it. So I'm not legally obliged to answer this question. I guess I wouldn't wear a shell suit though, not even to deliberately look uncool.


2. What current fashion do you wear and love? Or What current fashion do you wear but probably shouldn’t?

See above for that. I tend to generally wear stuff I feel comfortable in, devil may care what it makes me look like. I always think I look okay if I'm OK with what I'm wearing really. Shoes being the exception, since I have a deep-seated affection for Converse All-Stars.


3. What was your favourite toy as a kid?

I loved anything I could construct adventure stories with. My Polydrons had many adventures, with characters and locations I constructed for them. I also used to magpie things from promotions, like the Smartians from Smarties and the Orangey Tangs from Jaffa Cakes. (Both are still on my shelf!) The Tangs never got much action, despite having my dad placing them around the Jaffa Cakes, and making a short film with them - but the Smartians had a series of incredible adventures, and who knows, they may even make a comeback.


4. What is your favourite “toy” today?

Depends what you class as a toy. Being a geek, I like my gadgets that don't do much except beep and blink, although 47 is more the expert in that sort of thing. I'm deeply in lust with my BlackBerry, so much so that I brought it back to life using mystical powers, because it helps me stay in communication on the go. I also consider the Internet something that I communicate with; is it too big to consider a toy? Or perhaps my guitar?
I've also got an affection for my iPod, now that my netbook (which is also a toy I love) doesn't play music any more.


5. Did you ever own a Sony Walkman? A boombox?

I owned a Walkman, although I'm not sure if it was branded. I've also owned a dictaphone that uses cassettes, several Discmans (Discmen?), and two iPods. I also once owned an MP3 player with space for about 12 songs on it. I never had minidiscs, though. I always considered them a bit of a white elephant - plus, I was poor and couldn't afford an MD player/recorder.


6. What’s the most played song on your MP3 player?

Uhm, it's difficult to answer this because my current iPod is relatively new and there are only a few artists on it. When there are more artists, it's the song that I don't skip, whatever that may be. At the moment I'm pretty certain it's Lily The Pink. In fact, that's the song that's playing as I type this full stop.


7. Who was your best friend in primary school?

Robinson. Since I was 4. He's still a close friend now.


8. Who is your best friend now?

47. I'm not sure why, but he's a good friend because he seems to be one of the very few people in the world who truly "gets" me. Not sure how he does that, either.


9. Who was your favourite musical group in your early teens (age 13/14)? Post a photo.

Blink182.

10. Who is your favourite musical group now? Post a link to a song of theirs that you like.

Automatically I say James. Which is the truth. Although, seeing as I've typed this whole entry listening to The Scaffold, I'll give them an honourable mention, as I think that musically they're my greatest influence. I think my music sounds a bit like a mix between James and The Scaffold for this reason...

Anyway, here's Waltzing Along, my favourite song ever, by... James.


Bonus: What do you think is the secret to a good life?

An inbuilt love of words and music combining together to form lexical genius and sonorous goodness. Oh, and lots of hugs.

Lips

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon's sparkling
So kiss me

I was struck by the sudden urge to kiss earlier on. One of the things I missed the most while being single was kissing, and now that I'm dating someone sexy - the worst-kept secret in the world - I'm loving the chance to kiss again. And, as I've said before, I was her first kiss, which I'm happy about to an almost insane degree.

Doesn't mean I don't still miss it though.

During my teenage years, and sixth form in particular, where hormones ran rampant, snogging someone was a form of currency in some quarters, and I still didn't get to do any. We had arrogant gits snogging girls because they could (although Glod knows how), in some cases getting a commitment-free kiss out of the deal and in some cases playing with their hearts (and guess who got to pick up the pieces?). And then in university there were some people - I can think of one in particular - who kissed someone different every single night, including in one case the girl I was dancing with twenty seconds earlier. These people deemed a kiss of very little consequence.

But I've always seen it as something particularly special. I'll agree that not every kiss needs to be, but since every time I've kissed someone it's been someone I care about deeply, the act of pressing one's lips against someone else's holds a special significance for me. And since rediscovering how pleasurable it can be, I want it more and more and more, and I was struck suddenly, this evening, by the almost instant urge to kiss - to slide my tongue into her mouth, to taste her, feeling her teeth, her tongue, the inside of her cheeks - to savour, to pleasure, to love.

When I kissed her on my second date, I opened my eyes briefly. And I saw, apart from the freckles on her cheek, her eyes closed, her hair falling down over her shoulders. She looked happy, contented, blissful. And it was the kiss, the kiss that did it.

I've nothing against my cousin and her fiancée kissing, not even in the swimming pool. If they want to display affection, why not? We are, after all, on holiday. But I want to. I want to as well. I miss it and I have the urge. Such an urge...

I'm a sex blogger... get me out of here!

If anyone's read I'm The King Of The Castle by Susan Hill, they may remember a house named Warings, a huge dark mansion handed down through generations, with lots of small pokey rooms and some huge banqueting halls and vestibules which aren't really used. Like a version of Dickens' Satis House, except not burned to the ground. Well, this house is a bit like that.

It's huge. I think I'm in the smallest room. I've certainly been given one small enough to not really justify the amount of space. I've propped my netbook up on the bedside table (Lord forbid they give me a desk) and used the only chair - small, straight-backed and wooden - to sit on, so I have a semblance of a workstation. Not that I intend on doing any work. Writing blog posts and wanking to soft porn isn't work.

Not that I intend to do much of either. My computer being in the state it's in, although that appears to be fluctuating between on and off at the moment, watching soft porn is tricky anyway, but even if I did manage it, it's even more tricky since there's no lock on my door here, and the latch is broken, so I have little choice but to have it basically wide open. And my smallest cousin is in the room next door. He's 11 and I don't wish to be blamed for his corruption, especially as he's alert enough to pick up anything more than a gnat's whisper and bright enough to work out what sort of sounds constitute soft porn music.

Insofar as things to do are concerned - barring illicit self-indulgence in the smallest room (by which I still mean my room; the toilets are bigger than this, with their marble basins, &c.) - there are a number of things various members of my family have brought relating to sports. Of course, I hate sports. I just played bowls with my grandparents and started wondering what the point was after the first throw. I was pretty excited about there being a squash court, but mostly for the cavernous echo it elicits, meaning that when I went in there and sang Oh What A Circus! last night, it felt like I was on Broadway. And although the swimming pool is... well, it's a swimming pool... it's basically a square of water. The novelty wears off.

So I may have to strike out on my own.

This place has lots of grounds to explore. If you can find your way out of the house. I've done it twice so far, both by accident (and I've played Luigi's Mansion, so you can imagine how experienced I should be.). The trick, I believe, is to keep going down flights of stairs. I've actually no idea, geographically, where we are - besides knowing I'm somewhere in Sussex - but we appear to be in the middle of a wood, somehow (proof of this: I can see a tree outside my window, in the small patch of sky not obscured by roof in the wonderful view from said window). This may be the cue to grab my camera and disappear for a few hours taking pictures of trees. Hey, if I'm lucky I may end up somewhere interesting, like a forest glade full of faeries or a Goblin camp, but probably not. Well, unless I wish really hard.

Still. I'm on holiday. I just wish it weren't so damn boring by the time it's halfway through the first full day. At least I know my sister isn't enjoying it much either... she's resorted to writing her dissertation already.

HNT: clhb

I'm genuinely surprised and pleased with how this one came out.

It's an HNT because I'm in it. You just can't see me that well because I'm concealed behind a misted-up mirror. But be well aware that I was fully naked when I took this - hooray nudity!

I'm back on holiday tomorrow. I'm not expecting this one to be as fun, but it should have its fun moments. Mostly when I'm on Twitter. And I'll be on Twitter a lot more, because I'll actually have an impetus for being antisocial if my family get too much. But at least this one should be cheap. And my camera will get another workout!

So... see you later!

Orgasms, self-induded denial thereof and subsequent realization of the same, holidays and, on

I spent seven days in a YMCA in Penzance, Cornwall, in the company of my unofficial brother whose sister I almost married, a short German/Italian hybrid with incredibly long hair and an asexual art teacher who is obsessed with history and tells Hitler jokes.

Don't worry. It's a lot better than it sounds.

I spent a large majority of my holiday snapping things with a new camera. This new camera, I must add, is something that I got as a present from someone sexy, presumably so I can take naked pictures of myself with it. But instead, I'm using it for holiday snaps. How subversive. Hound Tor, Penzance, Mousehole, castles, stones, ruined villages, restaurants, churches, beaches, cliffs, hills, forests, gardens, FUCKING STONEHENGE... they all went in my camera. The amount of times my trigger finger went off may account for the fact that 47 and I almost saved the UN. We didn't quite get there, but we were close. I got to use the same finger on my light gun, see.

We tripped. A playlist lurched bizarrely through various selections and genres of music in a mixture of intents and languages. 47's car valiantly took hills with a worrying amount of groaning. We took bends as if corners, letting out a pleasing "wheeeee!" with our voices as 47's poor girlfriend held onto her seat for dear life. And we ate. I made food. Lots of food. And despite feeling healthy, I have certainly gained a lot of weight in a mere seven days. The salad wraps that I perfected making for everyone probably being cancelled out by the side order of chips and cheese I got with our last meal - the side order that was larger than the main course. I knew I should have ordered the garlic bread.

I didn't orgasm.

I didn't even masturbate. I think I just forgot all about my libido. I do have an overactive libido, I'll admit to that. It's not something I need to be ashamed of, really. I write a sex blog, for the love of Glod. It just wasn't particularly active during the whole seven days. Why? No idea. Not the foggiest. It's not courteous, nor is it even socially acceptable, to masturbate while you're staying with someone, and in a YMCA sex doesn't exist. But still, sneaking off in the night to submit to your human desires is merely tallying with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs... wherever you do so or whoever you're with. I just didn't do so. I didn't really want to, and at some points when I did (and there were some, of course there were) I was too tired... too busy... feeling too uneasy... to begin to attempt to carry out the deed.

My libido's thought process probably went something like, "well, he's on holiday, it'd be difficult for him to express any sexuality while it's happening, better shut down for a week." Or to put it more succinctly, "No."

It's not a new thing. I've gone a whole week between orgasms before. It's just... well... I was about 15 and hadn't had an orgasm deliberately. So, essentially, it was something I needed to re-familiarise myself with. Although I didn't think about it... much. I didn't lie awake wondering why I wasn't indulging in self-pleasure at every waking opportunity. I lay awake wondering about other things, like where my skill at bowling went and why I was so shit at Dance Dance Revolution! when I usually dance pretty well on a floor. I didn't think about it, I didn't do it, I didn't orgasm. I had a great time. The two probably aren't related.

I felt my libido recharging as 47 drove me closer to orgasm. London, I mean. London. We returned today and although the playlist was still shuffling its way through the songs, the car wasn't banking in such an exciting way and everyone looked ready to fall asleep at some points. Except maybe 47. Thankfully. I certainly almost drifted off a few times, and the time when I was wide awake was mostly spent on Twitter via my faithful BlackBerry. Bits of my sexual self awakened and sniffed the air hopefully. But I had to wait until I got home to properly browse through Twitter and the blogs before I could re-assert myself as a sexual being. So, erm, I did.

I had a large orgasm.

That is, alas, all it was. It was a large orgasm and I made a mess with it. I even took a picture (yes, with the new camera - it needed to lose its virginity somehow). But although it was a good orgasm, it wasn't the world-shaking, earth-moving, bone-shattering bucketload of pleasure I was thinking it might be. I'm starting to think that maybe I forced myself into it, and that's not conducive to the best kind of orgasm.

Still, I've been on holiday. I've saved up a lot. There's nothing to stop me trying again...

HLB

What does H stand for, apart from being the last letter in the name of my best female friend?

Does it stand for Holiday? I'm definitely on that. I'm staying in a YMCA. It's fun to stay here. I'm with 47, who also has an H in his name, and his German girlfriend, whose name... doesn't contain an H. And a friend of hers, who - I suppose - was brought along to prevent me from being a third wheel. But in all fairness, she is genuinely lovely, and I don't mind being a third wheel if it's along with Her. So all is good.

We have had a good few H outings on our Holiday. On our nine-hour drive here, we had a brief FUCK YEAH STONEHENGE! moment, where 47 uttered the immortal lines in his typical restrained, relaxed style: "THERE'S ONLY FUCKING STONEHENGE, RIGHT THERE!". We also visited Hound Tor, which is basically a collection of rocks, and the Minack Theatre, at which we saw Cyrano de Bergerac, which is French. We saw Land's End, and got our picture taken outside the First and Last House. We also visited some gardens today, naturally called the Heligan, causing me to utter, of course:

Gone! Gone, O form of man! And rise the demon, Heligan!

They didn't get it.

I am of the opinion, however, that H also stands for Hale, Hearty, Happy and Healthy. Am I all of those? Well, I certainly think so. It seems so.

I am less exhausted than usual; my trusty BlackBerry - which has recovered well from its temporary half-life - is getting me up early enough to take advantage of the complimentary breakfast, although I'm not raping everything available (or even scoffing a coffee and Snickers)... I'm having muesli, toast and some orange juice of a morning. Lunch has become more of a brief affair, rather than gorging myself on the nearest cheese available, and dinner - caramel slices notwithstanding, natch - has become good, wholesome, home-made stuff, couretesy of a local Morrison's and the culinary "skills" of yours truly - so by that I am also fulfilling Helpful. And hey, my friends enjoy the food, so that's something at least.

And unlike at Woodcraft Camp, which I am forsaking for this, the side of things that relate to Hygiene are going well too. There's a shared bathroom, which I don't like BUT I have taken a shower on time AND AM PLANNING A SECOND... I'm applying sunscreen and balm for the after-effects of forgetting my sunscreen. I'm wearing a hat that makes me look cool, shades that make me look like douche, and shorts that make me cold. I'm going on long, strenuous walks that take twenty-plus minutes to complete, helping with the whole "dammit ILB lose weight" continuum. And I feel healthy. Healthier than I have felt so far at home this year. I feel... in health.

Do I miss people? Of course I do. I miss everyone. I miss all of you, and that's why I'm borrowing 47's netbook to write this post. I miss Catharine, and am keeping in touch every morning and evening, again through 'phone-related marvels. I miss Lady P, even though I am closer to her homeland than I think I've ever been before. I miss everyone I read or talk to. I miss Robinson, Hairy Friend, Mane, WoodieBBW and all of the others who are doing the mad camp thing that I'm missing in order to do this. I miss you if you are reading this. I really do. I even miss my sister, in small doses.

But am I having fun? Am I writing this post to tell you I'm having fun? Am I happy, hale and hearty, helpful, humorous, and healthy? Am I fully hyped-up on H?

I am. Oh, I am. Oh yes oh yes oh yes.

Holidays!

I go on holiday tomorrow! The first of... ah well, that would be telling! I'm meant to be packing now! But before I do anything, I may as well do the TMI Tuesday that's been doing the rounds...

1. What is your favourite summer clothing item or outfit?

Any of my T-shirts... I have a hell of a lot of T-shirts. As well as trousers or three-quarter-lengths (not shorts, I don't like my legs), shades (if the sun is bright) and whatever I can find to go on my feet.

When I was small, I had one T-shirt which I used to wear all the time through summer (it was a Super Mario Bros. one) and foam flip-flops, but I'm more diverse now. I even have a different Mario T-shirt.

2. Did you or will you take a summer vacation? If yes, where did or will you go?

Three, which is why I started this post in the first place! Yes, I'm going on holiday three times, and they're all free!

The first one starts tomorrow, so I won't be gracing you with my presence for a while. And rest assured, I am really, really, really going to miss you. All of you. Especially you, Lady P, and of course Blacksilk, and Anisa, SparkleDiva and cutieloveheartgirl. This is a road trip with 47 and his girlfriend, and one of her friends! It's... would you believe it... around the West Country - so be afraid, Lady P... be very, very, very, very, very afraid.

The second holiday I'm taking is a week-long family holiday to a huge house somewhere. The jury's still out on if this will be fun or not - I have a huge family. Still, I'm looking forward to the party pieces evening, mostly because I've already agreed to help out on three of them, and I have one of my own to do. Not that I've decided what that is.

The third holiday I'm taking is to a spa hotel with cutieloveheartgirl! I know, scandalous.

And yes, although I (probably) won't be able to blog while I'm on holiday, I will be available to catch on Twitter, so by all means keep half an eye on @innocentlb for your regular dose of nervous sarcasm.

3. What is your ideal weekend away (e.g. city, beach or wilderness)?

Anything, really, as long as it's in a place that's not too difficult to get to, for a nice purpose with nice people! My automatic answer, obviously, is Woodcraft Camp, although our summer camp starts today and I can't go on account of our scheduled road trip! Bah! Although my favourite locale, cheesy as it is, is Center Parcs. It may be manufactured bliss, but it works.

4. What would you pack for a naughty weekend?

Don't tempt me! It depends what you class as a naughty weekend and who it's with! I rarely ever pack condoms (for I have never actually been away with a young lady who isn't on birth control) or sex toys (because I don't own any!), but I have at times packed massage oil and special lube. That's very rare though. Generally I just pack the necessities... you know, books. And if there's any space left, food. And then clothes into whatever corners there are remaining.

5. What item(s) do you never unpack, never take out of the luggage from trip to trip?

My keys. I don't think I've used my keys in the past five years. We have a key-safe outside of my house and nobody's bothered to remove it yet. I take my keys with them, but their only real function is to gather dust and inform everyone, by way of the keyring, of my blood type.

Not going to do the bonus questions. Neither of them would have answers that are particularly pretty. Or sexy, at that, really.

See you in a week, internets! And don't worry... I'll be fine!

I hope.