indianascones

[indianascones]

Sometimes I can feel you.

At night.

When I let my mind wander I feel myself go to you. I follow the thread over waters, and trail it through cities

Until I find you.

Sometimes

You’re sleeping. I lay down next to you, and rest my ear on your heart. I feel the pattern of my own change and match yours.

Other times

You feel me too.

You transcend physics and touch me back. Leaving trails of passion uninhabited and unexplored. Your lips find mine and time is torn.

Letting me see you.

But then daylight. The thread fades, and I’m pulled back. Losing what I had of you.

And when i wake I’m left with with deafening silence of your voice. No longer knowing who you are, but knowing you’re no longer here.

[indianascones]

Pray for me

Let me be your cathedral

I’ll bring you to your knees

While your fingertips steeple

And you gaze up at me

-a.e

[indianascones]

[indianascones]

I’ve been having vivid dreams lately, and the itch for change is unavoidable. I’ve recently started reaching out for new friends that are closer to what my main interests are.

My current friends are great. I’ve known them for a lot of years, but they’ve found what makes them happy. They have their interests and hobbies, and I love that for them. I just want the same. I want people that share my interests, I want people I can create with, do rituals with. So I’ve taken a few steps to get myself fresh exposure.

The dream I had last night I think was a reflection of my new moves. I was cut my hair, and it ended up being too short, I remember running my fingers through it feeling saddened by the loss, but then I dyed it. It was a mix of colors, like I use to. And then I woke up.

Maybe it’s the realization that I like women more than men. It’s taken me a long time to come to that realization, and idk why. I’ve always known I liked the same sex, but maybe I wasn’t ready to face how much I liked it? Idk. Gender and sexuality are so complex, and I’ve never felt more one way than the other. Men and women have their own qualities that I enjoy, but I do think I’m missing the feminine touch in my life. The smooth effortlessly sensual energy that comes with someone who’s embraced their divine feminine.

I’m sure I’ll find her. Somewhere.

[indianascones]

Handmaid's Tale Season 5

Potential Spoilers for the released seasons 1-4

The teaser and trailer for season 5 have been released and it looks intense. While season 4 left much to be desired, they ended on a supreme high note and it seems like season 5 is picking up right where they left off.

Per usual, we have choppy clips, dramatic music, and misplaced audio, but it showed a lot.

Let's start with the mains:

June (duh) looking angry, vengeful, and almost "losing it". I hope this isn't foreshadowing a Dany Targaryen downward spiral. June (like dany and I will die on this hill) has valid reason for her feelings. However the montage makes you think everyone is turning against her for being irrational.

Moira seems stressed. She yells at June's husband "June tore him apart!" Referring to the Commander and you have to ask why she's screaming it in such a heartfelt manner, but I digress let's move on. She's also being cautioned by Rita but that could be editing.

Luke might be redeemed in this season. He was losing me season 4 with his standoffish behavior (pre s/a by June) and seemed put off with her obvious hatred towards Gilead. But in the teaser we see him standing with June in what seems to solidarity, and the expressions he's giving her seems softer, more understanding. It appears he'll be working WITH June on getting their daughter, Hannah back.

Hannah has grown up a lot and it showed her dressed in all white with other girls, being lead to what I can only describe as a white pod. They only showed her face for a brief moment, but she had a monotone expression, a brainwashed look.

Serena...this bitch. In the trailer and teaser there are opposing presentations of her and June. In one, Serena is displayed as this poor mourning pregnant woman, scared. June is seen watching her with a death glare, a gun behind her back while the pregnant Serena clad in black looks on in fear. It completely victimizes her. The second clip shows her rallying support, questioning who helped June get to her husband the Commander, and basically making it seem like she was out for blood. Which ok makes sense but like, Serena, get real.

We also see Aunt Lydia back in all of her perfect villainess, Commander Lawrence, Nick, Mark (that guy that keeps talking to Serena and half flirts with her) Rita, mostly in a passing by fashion.

This season looks like it's going to be heavy and like it could go either way. They could take the "she's out of control" narrative with June, or make her actions righteous, which in my opinion they already are.

Yes I have complained in the past about her main character shield of protection, as deep, well rounded characters were frivolously killed off around her, she always made it out unscathed or with the lightest punishment. We see it immediately in season 1, where Janine loses her eye over saying "fuck you" and June is whipped on her feet for trying to escape. Aside from the glaring issues, I'm excited we're out of Gilead. I'm excited to see June in action, finally, after seasons of her falling apart when she needed to keep it together the most. It's the payout I wanted as a viewer.

I hope we aren't hit with some ridiculous curveball, such as the Commander secretly being alive and Gilead only faking his death for uproar and support for more war. Because if I see that mf on life support or something I'm probably going to cancel my Hulu subscription. In the trailer we see a funeral take place, we see June covered in blood, and we see everyone talking about the Commander as if he were no longer around. So fingers crossed they just move forward with that narrative.

Let's also hope they don't ruin June like Dany was ruined. I'm not sure I can take another loss like that.

[indianascones]

The struggle to be artistic, the struggle to stand out, the struggle to be unique.

I think it’s easy to accept roadblocks, because rejection hurts so much more than personal denial. Personal denial feels like a choice. Rejection feels like a circumstance.

Dreaming of becoming a writer was fun, not serious because how on earth would a publisher see me? It was easy to accept writing as a fantastical career and a pleasurable pass time. I don’t have connections, I’m rooted where I am, and opportunity doesn’t just knock.

But now there are options available, and I’m still scared. Without the roadblock the only thing stopping me, is me. And whatever I put out will be on me. I won’t have an editor, a publicist, I won’t have a team. It will be me, raw, unfiltered, and my mistakes will be public. All of that being rejected is exciting and terrifying.

People will care enough to spew hate. I’d prefer that over the silence.

Con artists get what they get because they project it as their current state. In a way, it’s top tier manifesting. So I’m going to take a page from their book. I’m going to live like a successful writer. I’m going to romanticize my life and the rest will fall into place.

Life is hard but it can also be as simple as a man. Sometimes it just needs to be showed what to do.

Cheers to coffee with a laptop as I studiously research at my bar counter while my dogs and cats rest peacefully around me. I’m starting my own story.

[indianascones]

I wonder when I’ll feel settled in life. I wonder if I’ve ever felt settled in any life.

I feel like a shard of glass among puzzle pieces. Misplaced trash. I don’t seem to fit anywhere.

I wonder if other people feel like I stick in their side when they try to get close. I wonder if I shred and pierce everything that gets close.

I thought I would feel more at ease if I was around familiarity but I‘m not sure if I ever felt that way. It’s difficult being around people that care about you more than you do. It’s guilt inducing.

I wonder why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal? Why are basic things so hard? And why is it so easy to sink into myself? It starts off avoiding one store run, then another, then canceling appointments, until eventually you decline so many social invitations you become a living ghost.

A figure that exists without experiencing. And a big part of me is ok with that. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. It should worry me that humans are classified as social creatures while I’m anything but. I should worry why I’m no longer interested in the world or in foraging relationships.

But I don’t.

None of it worries me.

Instead, I think about past lives and wonder what animal I could’ve been. Perhaps it’s easier imagining these traits are nothing more than shadows from the beast I once was.

[indianascones]

The Long Game

I don’t have physical things I like about myself but I do appreciate my instincts. I’m grateful the curse of my “elephant memory” protects me and gives me a foresight not many have.

I’ve always treated my kids like people. Like small adults learning to control their bodies. As if everything we shared would one day be shared to others. And I was always so worried about the memories my kids would have of me. Over the years I’ve taken the high road, and I do it so often I’ve been beginning to feel weak.

What am I showing my kids? What example am I setting? Is this how I stand up for myself? Is this a battle or a war?

The answers are finally revealing themselves.

I didn’t respond to the bad things their father has said. I didn’t poison my childrens minds. I never spoke ill of him in front of the kids. But eventually, they ask questions, and I don’t like to lie. But I also don’t like to overwhelm them. I’ve given age appropriate answers, and slowly over the years the good guy facade has slipped.

He finally realizes he can’t do what I do. He can’t provide them with what they need. And I can breathe. The kids see it and he sees it. It’s over. The kids will never choose to live with him full time and he knows without a doubt he couldn’t handle it if they did.

This is what it means to play the long game. Single parent edition. Society never treats kids like people. It’s never taken into account that they’ll have long standing core memories, and that they observe everything. They’re treated like pawns; things to manipulate and control.

I provided a supportive environment, allowed my children feel secure, expressive, and let them explore coping techniques, identity, activities. I was honest and I followed through, no matter what, so they could see for themselves I kept my word. We still have a LOT of relationship to develop. After all they’re only preteens. Hardly developed mentally or emotionally in any fashion, but this foundation is so good.

But this foundation is so good. It’s more than I ever had with my mom and I hope it gets better. I hope my kids are better than me in every moment of their lives.

Co-parenting with someone that exhibits narcissistic or BPD tendencies is HARD. They will try and manipulate, they will continue to lie, but they are always their own undoing. Look forward. Play the long game, and raise your human. Raise someone with critical thinking, empathy, kindness, raise someone you can trust.

[indianascones]

Time Jumps

It’s happening so much to me I have to start keeping record. Things in life I knew were one way, suddenly being different. This time it’s with Kill Bill.

I distinctly remember there being 3 movies. I remember most of the third movie. And it’s not about the two assassins kids, which is what you’ll find now if you look it up. That Quinton Tarantino(director)has ideas for the third movie, even wants to use Uma Thurmans real daughter.

No.

I remember Daryl Hannah being in the hospital, blind after Uma Thurman ripped out her other eye. I remember Bill being there with her in the hospital, sad over what she had become. So he killed her via strangulation in the hospital.

But last night I watch Kill Bill 2 with C, and there’s no sequel, the big fight scene I remember with Bill doesn’t happen, and I find it hard to believe that I imagined a whole trilogy. Yea I write, imagine and create, but why would I do this for movies I hardly cared about in the first place? I never cared for the Kill Bill movies but now that I know half of what I remember didn’t happen, wasn’t even true, I like them even less and wonder why they were ever popular?

Just another example of my mind vividly recalling things that apparently didn’t happen.

I’m either insane or jumping timelines/dimensions.

[indianascones]

Taste

That taste.

It’s bitter.

It dances on my lips and all I can think…

I want more.

I’m sick.

With you.

Of you?

It doesn’t matter because I have it now.

The taste.

I want.

I need.

To fill my tongue with you and to hear…

Anything.

As long as it’s from your throat.

That soft,

Smooth muscle.

The one my teeth crave.

I just need

One more

Taste.

-a.e

[indianascones]

Flowers

There’s flowers here.

Flower petals

Held softly on a warm wind,

Floating my from my hand.

A memory’s path of drift

I die here.

Where the flowers are.

Petals melting to slime.

The smell of rot so sweet

Covering me in a butterfly’s breath.

Forget me here.

Autumn moves in.

Growth comes with loss

From root to crown.

The stardust of us will entwine again

Leave me here.

With the roots and the rock

Objects in motion stay in motion

So you must

Catch up to me.

Don’t believe Me stationary.

-a.e

[indianascones]

This is it, this is the one

[indianascones]

I have this fantasy of a long-standing romantic arrangement becoming something more. The things I write about.

I was told you never put yourself in your work. You develop someone completely new from scratch. But how can I leave these people I’ve made? These fearless, beautiful, versions of myself?

The ones that are confident, the ones that are bold, the ones that feel an attachment to their sexuality. I create people that feel connected to their bodies. And for a moment I can live like that.

I can pretend. I can imagine you. And if all I get in this life is the peace and comfort of my own words, then I’ll take it.

I’ll build the world where we steal holes in time where nothing exists but us. I’ll use my palette to paint the softness in your eyes and the safety you’d provide. The chance for me to be weak. To rest. And when I’m old, gray, arthritic in my joints, I’ll read you and escape all over again.

[indianascones]

My final edit of this piece! This originally was a one go scene, but I decided it deserved a little more attention.

Grey

It’s grey.

The light streaming in is weak. Music plays, drowning out reality and for those moments it was only us. No past, or future, no present. Just experiences too pure to exist for too long. Trailing fingertips and soft breathing, eyes I never wanted to see me, engulfing me. Every inch. Hands that felt safe, but dangerous at the same time. They were warm, firm, only hinting at the strength beneath.

It was like a secret.

The rain outside played a symphony as they crashed onto the orange and red leaves. Inside we were warm, entangled in the shadows, evading time. A tongue so sweet, I was sure I had been desert bound moments before. I was parched. I was shameless. Arching into you, curling around you. I was feral, and you fed me.

Bites, while your hand controlled my head by my hair. A hand teasing at my throat, your wrist brushed the swells of my breast as I breathed into you. I was willing to be taken, made a part of you. When you released my hair my body ached for further contact, but you weren’t gone long.

“Open for me.” And I felt you. You clasped my throat, pressing me against the wall, and my thighs opened. How could they not? Forbidden fruit was so sweet, Mother Eve taught me, and I was learning it firsthand. From yours. Soft touches slipping into my folds as my dress rose higher, and I gasped, digging my nails into your flesh. The kitchen table rocked sending our glasses to the floor, the crash was soundless. Your lips swallowed my moans, secrets are quiet. Secrets are kept. Stroking me from the inside I was overstimulated. Your thumb pressed on my swollen clit and my body vibrated.

Stars.

Around us, behind my eyes, dancing in my ears. I couldn’t wait. I needed more. I wanted to be patient, I wanted to be good. Good girls wait, good girls play coy. But I was ravenous. I ran my hands down your chest, scratching your stomach, until I reached your belt. Slipping the leather loose I hooked my ankles around your calves in anticipation of having you in me. Your button opened effortlessly for me. When I had you, your sigh…I tasted it, the way you moaned when my thumb brushed the beads of precum from your throbbing head. It filled me. I was guiding you into me when you stopped me, holding my hand still.

“Keep your eyes open and on me.” I looked at you, time extending further. Your eyes, dark and endless, beckoning me in. One move brought you into me, and you became hazy. Wordlessly my mouth opened, airy breaths escaping. Your eyes traveled down my face, watching my lips contort, they went further down, watching my breasts that were straining against lace fabric, and your hand followed, releasing my throat. You held me in place at the hip as you tried to fit further, but I’m not a good girl. I jerked you into me, pulling forwards with my legs. Our hip bones met, and I felt you filling me to my stomach. I held you tighter, my arms were around your neck, and I was whimpering from my impatience. You pulled away and covered my mouth, your brow raised in mischief.

“Bad girls stay quiet.”

To be continued…

Song: Strangling you with a cord - Lapalux  ♫

[indianascones]

Rinse and repeat

I can’t get up because I’m depressed.

I’m depressed so I can’t eat.

I can’t eat which makes me fatigued.

I’m so fatigued I can’t get up.

-a.e

[indianascones]

Red Flags 🚩

I like that everyone is talking about red flags. In fact, I love that as a society so many subjects are no longer considered “taboo” or brushed off as someone being “crazy” or “sensitive”. But red flags like most new hot topics, is becoming diluted and the real meaning lost.

A red flag isn’t something that you don’t like. That’s compatibility, something completely normal. Red flags are precursors to abuse. And while the tweets and memes are funny to laugh at, the point of making red flags a topic of conversation is to give people to the tools to protect themselves.

Something I find wrongfully labeled as a red flag is someone that is friends with people they’ve dated. Clout chasers will have you believing someone with ex’s in their life is a narcissist, or is “monkey branching”, a term used to describe a person that keeps alternatives close by, branches, that gives them access to monkey over to. But fear not, my extensive dating history is here to shed some light.

I’ve dated several types of people, men, women, NB, parents, artists, you name it. The people that have been the most peaceful, that have added the most peace to my life, were those that had maintained relationships with past spouses and lovers. Those were the people that could communicate. Those were the people that understood it’s normal to grow apart and it didn’t mean anything about their self worth. They understood relationships didn’t need sex, or romantic titles to be valid.

When I meet people now that aren’t on good terms with any of their ex’s, I question why. How could there not be one? How bad are their breakups? How disrespectful or mean do they get? I think about what leads me to cut people out of my life, and I wonder how much of that is something they do.

To add onto that, having friends of the opposite sex. It’s not a red flag to me if a man has women friends. It’s a red flag to me if they don’t. Why don’t they have women in their life? What role do women play for them? How do they view women? It makes me think they don’t respect women or value them.

When it comes to red flags we have to look beneath the surface. A red flag isn’t always going to fit within the confines of a tweets character count. Social media is helpful but it is not a guide. So many follow the advice of single people with thousands of followers and that are the red flag and wonder why they don’t have success. Red flag culture is very quickly becoming a controlability meter and that’s not what it’s for.

There are signs and flags you can look for, but they aren’t always going to find you on a social media algorithm.

[indianascones]

Some things can’t be erased, so write over them.

-a.e