Dear Principal:

My interest in BDSM began a few years ago, and it is part of the reason that I am writing my novel, openly, on the Net. In my novel which can be found, along with my autobiography, at Writing.com, I talk about my own self-destructive sexual behavior. You can also Google the word, novelvision, directly to see my story. In the novel, “Tommy,” my protagonist visits an Internet chathost, the evil Vicki. She has entranced him and he first goes to her under the theory that she can help him understand his abusive father, a drunk and a pussy slave, whose financial largesse to a whore kept Tommy hungry at night as a child. And now, Tommy, himself, finds that he is as horny as his father ever was. And it is all complicated by a childhood murder. This actual crime is the part that most will be most concerned about in all of my writing. This novel is based on my true story. The novel deals heavily with social ostracism and supposed mental illness. Yet there is reason to believe that Tommy was never psychotic and in need of antipsychotic medications. Rather, Tommy (yes, me!) may have actually been autistic, having the condition known as Asperger’s Syndrome. After the worst of all this midlife crisis stuff was over, I wrote the Food and Drug Administration and warned them that the medication that I had been on, mellaril, may have catapulted me permanently into hyper sexuality. Anyway, Tommy ticks off the beautiful Vicki, and this shrewd woman begins her vendetta to the death. For my novel is about the evil of life, itself –as seen by a modern day Arthur Schopenhauer with a jerk-off problem. I do hope that you will take a look. I would like to ask you about the motivations of Internet Dominatrices. And I know you have opinions about your clients. pqt

Dear Principal, take a look. -- pqt.

From “novelvision” at writing.com:

The Magic Thing that Hell Must Be

This is an essay about revenge.

Of course, I am not normal. And this has led me to talk to some remarkable Internet ladies. Being male, in between the every eight seconds that I am horny, I have asked these women questions about life and how they feel. Most always, I get no joy. Most often I find any woman I talk with to be just as clueless about things as anyone, male or female, that I may talk with in “real” life. My reckoning of things is that most people don’t have any insight into much of anything beyond the things they were taught to believe as children. Even if they rebel against their teaching, they return.

But once in a while, I find a very special lady. They are more rare than I would think, given the number of chat hosts and “Internet whores” that there are out there in the netherworld of cyberspace. Sometimes I can’t believe how many women have web cams or some kind of Internet setup to snag a dollar from “dumbass” males like me. I have come to wonder about these women more and more. I have thought about the insults that some might get as they are forced by poverty to do such work – say in some very religious place like Romania.

I loved one in Romania, a sweet girl, really. She had been a chat host for quite a number of years. I do believe she lied about her age. I believe when last we “talked” that she was probably about 29, but she may have been younger. It is a “good” age for a wise female to be—of the talented and seductive sort. ...An unknown, mysterious age of perfect femininity. She was, of course, so perfect and I, of course, was this wretched man that she could use anytime she pleased. Her life was going up and up. Mine was heading, without her, to nowhere. The specifics of my sexual praises for her are a matter between her and me. But they were not of a normal sort. For I have never been the type to think of marriage, the PTA and such as anything more than a bold attempt at looking away from reasonable pessimism and the desperate futility of our actual lives. All meaning for me is provisional. I believe only in this: The world is cruel. But further, and maybe more so because of my love of things “BDSM,” I have thought so much about our ideas of honor and dignity and what that prevailing theory of the self is really doing to the human race. These are the very things ripped from a “slave” as he or she becomes more defeated by the dominating love.

I have been a violent man. I know about revenge. But in the interrogations of love that I have had at the hands of women, I have thought about more than me. I have thought about all the notions we have. I have thought about Hell.

Now, Hell is where all the bad people go who have transgressed against my own perfect ego. The people who have harmed me and injured me will face a day of judgment. But it won’t just be a day. It will be for eternity, because my ego is perfect and enduring, and, therefore the punishment for transgressions against that ego must be perfect. It will require an eternity for my enemies to amend for their ways. It will be a perfect Hell.

But if my ego really did pervade the world right now, couldn’t I come into the presence of my enemies right now, unseen? Couldn’t I bring them all the Hell they deserve right now –swift as magic?

But this would, indeed, be a magic thing. Sadly, this magic Hell really is the popular view of Hell within the theory of the self that most everyone believes. It is a magic thing to believe that my ego lives on and on, or that your ego lives on and on –or that anyone else’s does, either.

Really, though, I don’t believe in magic. However, I do believe in human cruelty. This is our sad marvel and our war on Planet Earth. When I am not seduced by the common ideas, it is comforting to me to know that my enemies live and are not harmed. For, if what I believe is true, there is hope for me and there is hope for you. For I also believe our deaths are permanent. I believe the ego model will fail with death. But as I say, I have never been normal. I do not see the end of consciousness as particularly bad, given how mean the world is. I am a psychological nihilist.

When last I talked with Carmen, she had just graduated from law school. Like I say, I was never sure of just what her magic age might be. She was making plans.

“I bet you have a lot of things on your mind right now.” –I typed to her.

She said that she did and how she would have to move and how she may have to go back to the hinterlands of Romania where she was born if it did not all work out. I sensed the undertow of drama and social expectations, the clashing of egos, a world away in Romania. It is a universal theme that even wise Woman is no better at than Man. The story of revenge is as old as our oldest human stories. They give us meaning. And they bring us blood and death. This is our sad “magic.” It is empty, and yet it is the tears of all our history. And the magic thing that Hell must be? Believe in magic if you will. But, if you do, believe in the sad drama that revenge actually is and how it is based on a lie about yourself.

Carmen said how she was keeping things a little under wraps. I imagined her passing relationships as she packed to move, as life was changing for her.

“... And people you’d like to get even with, too?” I typed.

“You amaze me. How did you know?” –she typed. Maybe it was magic. But I don’t believe in magic. I just believe that people are mean. When in doubt, guess at that, and you’ll be right.

Carmen, wherever you are, good luck.

--Written in the Internet Night. novelvision

I need to ask the Principal about some “forced-fem” issues that I have. Principal or any other dominatrix who may be reading this, might you help me out here? I have never felt the urge to suck cock or eat cream pies. Yet shaving myself downstairs is marvelously embarrassing. And so I think it’s tied to humiliation. Now what exactly is the sexual-psychological payoff in humiliation? Do women see humiliation differently than men do? And what about “butch” women? What’s their deal, their fantasy life? And wearing panties? I don’t like it. They ride up. I have got to be comfortable to function in the workaday world. Of course, that’s all part of the kink, isn’t it? The secret sin thing. The clandestine fishnet world. And all the business of being found out –as if in this post 9/11 world anyone anywhere has any real private life. And I don’t exactly get off by singing too loud in church. I just won’t sing along with Billy Gruesome. And I won’t overly wave the flag or promote the war. These are “patriotic” blackmail issues. Remember McCarthyism? Remember how J. Edgar Hoover blackmailed congressmen all dressed up in panties? Well, fuck whoever's spying me down so I’ll be like President Bushy -- all for the endless war and the boys now coming home, some quite wounded, all, I’m sure with hope for more of life and less of the real moral darkness out there. --Not the supposed moral lackings of kinky dykes. Or crazy people that “normal” people can’t believe are good.

Will someone tell me the dif between a theory, a wild-assed guess (WAG) , and an extra-stupid perception? Of course, I have my own ideas on this. Just asking you. pqt

Now would probably be a good time to give my readers a little back story that might somewhat explain my bizarre point of view. That I am self-destructive is a given, but as the Principal has pointed out to me --really? Really, am I self-destructive and am I really anti-social inside? Or is it just my behavior in the world that signals a bad boy to people when actually I am a straight-arrow klutz. Am I dangerous pervert, too? This is so strange to me to realize that folks all along have thought so, just because I believe normal sex is wrong. Why would I think that? I hate life. Again, I can hear the Principal --really? Well, yes, really, I hate how mean people are. I hate about thirty percent of the people on the planet because they are just plain psychologically invasive of others. I must be anti-social, fer sure, then. Really? Well, yes, really, I think that percentage of people, most of them male, are just plain insensitive to others. So I am a sensitive male then? Probably a “queer,” then. Really? Well, no, I am not. But the way that I have been treated these past few years has given me a lot to think about in how that particular thirty percent treats everyone else, and why I believe they are assholes deluxe. Then am I hater of my own sex? I do not hang with normal males, fer sure. And I must hate women too, somehow in all this stir because I think the normal value of women, namely, to get married and breed like a bunch of rabbits is just plain wrong because --what?-- because the world is overpopulated? No. Because life, itself, is meaningless, and to have children is an act of violence and a demonstration of the poorest stewardship possible. What a fuct attitude deluxe, you say. There’s more. Really. I am sorry, but there’s more.

I invite you to comment in this blog. I can field practically any question you throw at me. I am not afraid to think on my keyboard. In person I am quite shy and do not enjoy the company of invasive people. As I say, about thirty percent of the human race is just too invasive for my liking, too given to the psychology of target acquisition, “justice,” that great human entertainment industry --and war. pqt

Dearest Principal,

Might I ask you a question about heat distribution in the universe? You, of course, being a chemistry major must know loads about entropy. It seems to me that the Big Bang had to happen because of some thermodynamic need. That is -- when space-time became the prevailing reality. Now, when entropy becomes complete, will that mean the universal temperature will be absolute zero?

But take a universe (please). One finite in size and in energy. Wouldn’t the end-temperature have to be above absolute zero –unless that finite-sized universe grew in size? Further, might it be the end-temp would always be something above absolute zero unless the universe proved to be infinite in size? Thus, were you to be thermally outside the universe to take its temperature and read the end temp to be, say, 0.0000001Kelvin, you’d know the universe was finite instead of infinite in size. For what freezin’ frigging good it would do ya. All I know is that it would be colder than Hell Fahrenheit outside.

Most people believe right now that they are thermally outside of the universe, by the way. It is called believing in free will. No one I know sees it that way. At least it has not come up in conversation.

...Anyway. You know what worries me about all this? Anytime you talk this shit you look like some kind of a weirdo-crank. Every nut in the world has a take on Einstein, have you noticed? So don’t mind me none, neither.

Dear Principal,

Snatch: To grab and to then pull in. This is the power of life at its best, and it can be a heady rush. For life to pull me in and involve me, however, involves more than physical sex. The brain is where I live. That is why I am so glad that I found you. You are offering me a very strange thing: Kink for the man who thinks. In every man-woman relationship, either in person or at a distance, brain-play is the true play. A man must be captured by the female. He must be snatched. And in my fantasy world, I dream of the shrewd, seductive lady who, by turns, makes a man totally hers. This to me is the deep, dark fact of good sexual feeling. It is not “dignified,” not vanilla. Indeed the rush of life in the form of sex is a seeming addiction. This is a thing which prideful people think is below them. Yet what involves the minds of such “moral” and good people? Their brains are just as snatched as mine. I would argue to you that they are liars, and thus, immoral. They are lying to themselves deeply about what life means and instead have allowed themselves to be captured and snatched by more normal addictions, such as religion and patriotism – or downright mean-hearted sheepism.