Stuff that might bother some readers.
Eldritch wood is used in the construction of a ventriloquist’s dummy. Decades later, the puppet soaks up a puddle of blood.
The murderer begins to hear voices during his act. Disturbing voices. They urge dark deeds.
A few murders later, he is surprised when his arm is paralysed during his act. He numbly feels something gnawing into his flesh from the wood.
The worms inside his skin flex and rearrange his face into a smile, ready for his next audience.
I got a message this morning from my mother. She’d been able to see the thread that I had previously mentioned. She’s aware that I’m involved in the kink community, so this wasn’t a shock to her. Had the situation been different, that could have been rather stressful. For many people, what I’ve just described is a nightmare scenario, and is one of the reasons people have cited that they aren’t willing to stand up for their beliefs in the community. I had been aware of the possibility, since horror stories of outing as a weapon have existed as long as I’ve been a member of the community.
Based on his writings, he doesn’t feel he has outed me, since I was already out. Well, I have always thought that an individual should get some discretion over how out they are, and if you aren’t sure, you should probably ask them. That generally works better when you have respect for the person that you are arguing with. I don’t know that this applies here.
I had just two days ago said I was no longer going to be sanitizing these posts for any given audience, but I’ve already had demands that I change details of what I’ve written. And)
I’m finding myself choosing my words carefully, since it seems like whatever is said will be taken in a manner other than the manner in which it is written.
I suspect that I’m not aware of the emotional flavour that I layer into my writing. I was unaware that my distrust of this individual would be so clear as to taint what I felt was a neutral statement of “at one point, I actively recommend (this event), back when I attended, these were the reasons I recommended it back then. I no longer attend for personal reasons, so I can no longer recommend it, as I lack the required information.”
Apparently, if you have a perceived past bias, people assume you mean more with your words when you say, even when you don’t even care enough anymore to hold an opinion.
I was already burnt out and planning to leave the community. I had promised I’d help with one last party. Now, I’m not even sure I’ll bother with that. I’ve been told people want me to attend, but given the vitriol about me, I’m feeling unwelcome.
I’ve been battling feelings of alienation for a long time now, and I think I’ve reached the end of my ability to cope with that.
I suspect if helping my grandmother to maintain her independence wasn’t an absolute priority, I’d likely be a suicide risk.
Well, originally today’s post was possibly going to be my grumbling about the difference between short term skills and long term skills, with regards to relationships, and to BDSM in particular, and how mistaking short term skills for long term can lead to a fair bit of trouble. Or possibly about the whole community charity moving thing that I’ve been working on, since apparently I haven’t done enough to promote it.
Instead, it’s going to be about paranoia and vendettas, and outing people. I wrote something on Fetlife about how I no longer recommend Sin City to people. At one point in time, it was in my newbie guide, as a good starter event. Since I no longer attend the event, I no longer recommend it. I’ve no knowledge of how the event is run these days, or the competence of the current staff, just that the people I’d have trusted to handle things are no longer involved.
This was taken as an attack by the event host, who proceeded to post on his page about my attacking his event. This wouldn’t be too bad, except he decided to use my actual name. I’ve a personal policy that I try to keep my Fetlife and my Facebook somewhat separate. I don’t post anything kinky with the world privacy setting, only the friend’s only setting. This is because I have a belief that one good way for Facebook to make money would be to charge companies for Social Media checks. And if not Facebook themselves, there are plenty of other individuals who could provide that service. So, I’d prefer to keep these things separate.
Isaac ignored that. I don’t think he understood why what he did was a problem, which is part of why I have said I don’t feel he is part of the kink community, just someone who profits from it.
I attempted to defend myself in post, but he has decided to block me. Personally I find blocking people to be a cheap trick. I prefer to have the conversation. If my opinion isn’t strong enough to stand up against opposition, I should reconsider it and the thought process that led to it. I understand some people don’t agree with that, and prefer to limit the dissenting voices that they are exposed to. I understand it, I just don’t really respect it, unless it’s for medical reasons.
Currently his cult is making personal attacks against me, which I suppose allows him to keep his hands clean.
I plan to write more often, I’m aiming to write daily, and I will be ranting more. Likely I will offend some people. Consider this your disclaimer.
When I first created this site, I wanted a place where I could speak my mind freely without it impacting on the TOU of a few sites or on friends, Reive in particular; Erotic Vancouver where I’d been writing before was his brand, and I worried about tarnishing it.
I let the fact that this was posting to Facebook taint the purpose, since I let myself worry about the audience again.
Well, in 2016, the gloves are coming off. I’ll probably need to change the way snippets from here are posted to facebook.
Thus it begins.
This past weekend, I took a friend with me to Noir.
It was his first time there though he ran into a few people he knew, mostly from his days in the electronic music scene or from providing medical services at music festivals. Initially, I kept an eye on him, to make sure he was comfortable and in case he had any questions, then I wandered off to be social and deal with the various things.
At some point, I hooked up the Neon wand, gave him the basics of operating it, and left him running it as a demo station. That seemed quite entertaining for him. At one point, while I was electrified, Ira, our photographer, patted me on the shoulder, didn’t notice the zap, and so I gave him a quick zap after. I probably should have checked with him before that, but at the time, I didn’t think of it.
Around 2 am, we hopped in the car and headed over to pick up the Van, so we’d be able to move all the furniture out of the venue. I made the mistake of parking it where I’d planned to park it, on the ramp, rather than leaving it around the side until we were actually ready to load out. I had to move it twice before I gave up on having it on the ramp. Lesson learned for next time. Though I still say we can probably just use the smaller van and pack it higher, which means we can actually drive down the damn ramp and into the parkade.
After that, we unloaded in the locker, packed it to the ceiling, and headed out to the after party, at the House of Ravens, were we provided a bit more of the electrical play demos. Including to people who had said they were scared of electricity prior. So that was a decent accomplishment.
When things had settled down, we brewed up a pot of coffee and sat in the living room, discussing the evening and various other things. At that point, he told me that one of the women he’d been talking to, had had an issue with me, and had been talking about how she wanted to get me kicked out of the club or banned from it, for being creepy. Apparently, I had a habit of approaching her, not talking to her, talking to whoever she’d been talking to, and then walking away, and she was bothered by this. At least that’s what I understood the problem to be. I may have missed certain details.
I can’t comment specifically on previous events, as I can’t recall them with any clarity. I do know that that night, I approached Ian to check on him, saw that he was talking to someone I didn’t recognize, tried to place the face, and then moved on to attend to other things.
When he mentioned who it was, and how I knew her, it made a bit more sense. She’s someone who has had an issue with me since a disagreement a few years back. Probably sometime roughly 6 years ago, I think, though I’m not actually sure now that I try to recall the details. In any case, she isn’t really someone who crosses my mind; though apparently she still has a strong opinion about me.
His interpretation of it was that she was being catty. I’m not sure of his reasoning, but I’m sure he’ll comment if he wishes to share them.
I shared this story with a few other individuals involved with the event, looking to get their opinions. One of them reacted with a “Wow, that’s crazy. Good luck trying to get rid of one of the most useful volunteers.”
We then proceeded to have a conversation about reputation and the protection it provides. I told him that while I appreciated the fact that he’d doubt her story based on knowing me, I still wanted him to take allegations seriously, because as a community, we need to handle things that way. We need to not allow anyone to be protected by how much they contribute.
The other person had a similar opinion, but wanted more details. We had a similar conversation about what might have upset this person, and if anything could be done to avoid it in the future. And then we had the conversation that inspires this post, which is how we can ensure that there is a balance between taking allegations not being taken seriously, and allegations being used as a weapon, or if that balance is even possible, if a different approach is required to ensure that things are handled in the best and safest manner possible.
So, if the allegations had been more than just bitterness, and she had actually complained to someone in earnest how would they have been handled? Would the fact that I contributed to the event have been a factor? Would the fact that I have a decent collection of people who would vouch for me be a factor? On one hand, it probably should have some tempering of the concerns, but at the same time, just because I’m not a problem with those people, doesn’t mean I’m not a problem for her.
Would the allegations have been more serious if they were about different level of violation? Probably but how does that scale function.
The timeline should be a factor probably, since time can change a recollection of events, and people do change over time. But to what extent.
What is the appropriate method for dealing with someone you have hostilities with in the community, especially if they’ve embedded themselves into an event?
Ideally, we don’t want people to be able to use the fact that they contribute to events to be able to use that as a shield that allows them to violate people. Abusers should not be tolerated, no matter how connected they are. And while the idea of accusing someone of something is abhorrent, it isn’t unheard of. It seems to be more common in the kink community than false rape allegations in the vanilla community, but that might just be my impression of it.
Part of that could be the gradients that are available in the kinky community, and how the accuser will be perceived. In the vanilla community, there is still a considerable amount of sex negativity that the accuser will be branded with, which may be less prominent in the kink community.
Update : The friend who had mentioned this whole conversation to me clarified things. It wasn’t the girl who wanted me banned, but her friend, who I don’t know that I’ve ever met. So that renders the discussion rather pointless, except for the sake of discussing how to handle such circumstances.
Orphaned by choice. Today, I’ve added the majority of my family to the block list on my phone. If they want to contact me, they can reach me through email.
The obvious exception is Gram.
I’ve done this because my interactions with my family have been a negative experience for me for nearly as long as I can remember. There have been benefits, mostly financial, but there have also been detriments mostly to my emotional state and mental health.
They’re in the final stages of moving to Squamish, swapping their living arrangements around. Prior to this, my sister was living as a tenant in my parent’s house, and maintaining it for them while they snowbirded. Now, the house will be hers, and they will be her tenants, when they’re back in Canada.
This arrangement creates a nice buffer. Gram is local, every one else is at least one bridge away.
You may recall I had been looking into heading to Toronto for a while. I had some concerns about not being local for Gram, and this has magnified those concerns.
There is plenty more of this on my mind, but it’ll take me a while to express it.
I feel like if I vent, it’ll be seen as whining & whinging. That by expressing my emotions, I’m somehow being immature about things, despite the fact that the ability to process emotions constructively is sign of maturity.
My parents tend to tell me to grow up, but they have a very odd definition of what being grown up means, I think.
I don’t really understand their values, when I reflect on them. At some point in my development, I rebelled, probably for the usual reasons, and that somehow changed things. Somehow, the post rebellion reconciliation never really solidified. There were attempts at it over the years, which were partially successful, but it was never sustained long enough to develop a permanence. It would get disrupted and pulled apart. Like a shattered bone, never being given enough time to fuse properly, or an object d’art being impatiently restored, with not enough time for the adhesive to harden.
The biggest reason for this is perspective and values. They are so far apart that communication is difficult. What is seen by one side as a minor imposition is a herculean task by the other side, at times. In other instances, both sides will see something as a favour to the other, and then be annoyed at the lack of gratitude.
This lack of common framework, is the source of many of the communication issues.
So, my sources tell me that a masked vigilante is out there, in the city. Well, that’s nothing new. This one, is perhaps a bit different though. He’s driving an electric car, wearing a wrestling mask, and carrying a sawzall. He’s been seen parking in front of houses that are watering their lawns excessively, in clear violation of the water restrictions. He’ll walk up to the house, turn the tap fully off, and then with his sawzall, he’ll cut the head off the faucet. Then he’ll apply a sticker to the side of the house, before getting back in the car and driving away. The sticker is printed with a copy of the current water restrictions and an oddly deformed smiley face at the bottom.
Strangely, the rumours about this man differ greatly. Some describe him as 5’5″, blond hair poking out from the mask, chain smoking, while others have described him as 6’6″, a big bear of a man, who drinks from the hose before he shuts it off. One person even stated that she was sure that the vigilante was in fact a woman.
In any case, my lawn has gone brown and grey, and will stay that way.
Warning. This will probably be disturbing to some readers.
This was an unexpectedly violent dream.
Writing in strange places, like a wooden picnic table, cantilevered over a pool. Having to adjust the table, so it wasn’t sinking into the pool. People asking for the WiFi password, and not taking the hint that I didn’t want to give it to them.
A computer set up in my old bed room; someone stealing files from it. A confrontation with the guy who’d taken the files, being told they were nothing to worry about, just my porn collection; broken up by his friend. Killing the friend in the other room, after being told it was blackmail material, coming back for the original thief, trying to get answers from him; choking him to death.
Running commands on the PC, finding out that they’d stolen kickstarter promo files that had been sent to me; nothing important, just a curiosity.
Depression. Hiding the bodies. People still around, not realizing how far things had escalated. Normal socializing, some conflicts, guilt and then admission of what I’d done. Discussions of suicide; conversations on best methods, some arguments. Find a poison that kills my liver, taking it. Feeling it failing. Wanting to write before the end. Setting up the laptop and writing until I passed out.
Waking up, in bed. Different house, memories fading. Breakfast, then writing this.