Thank you, followers, for the wonderful likes, reblogs and supportive inbox messages about the little sneak preview I gave of my little project yesterday. It was fabulous encouragement
Expect another little preview and some more information on the collection – same time, same place – next week.
<3, Ivy
M’s Infernal Cabinet of Desire: But is it Art?
You know when you’re uncomfortable with how much something turns you on and so you share it with other perverts in hopes of validation?
The photographer with whom she had an entanglement invited her to an art show, entitled ‘Consent, Ecstasy and Despair: a Study.’ He asked her to arrive early.
He cornered her in the cloakroom, kissed her hard. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said, his hands roving over her body, reaching under her…
On Monday, the doctor said I looked a lot better but that I had to keep at taking care of myself and going easy.
Tonight, at dinner, The Redhead looked up at me and said that the color was back in my face and that I looked like myself again.
Thank you, all, for your well wishes.
And, yes, I’ve learned my lesson.
Teehee.
Dear Followers,
Thank you so much for your messages of support, empathy, understanding and your incredibly kind words. It means a lot to me that you’re all so sweet and caring. I feel so privileged.
Last night was a little rough for me. A long-standing little unofficial tradition the thief and I had was broken and it hit me a little hard. It’s strange not to have that feeling of belonging that had become so familiar.
In other news, I gave up alcohol for Lent. So, yeah, let the dry days begin.
<3, Ivy
I had a dream last night that I was in the library, having a threesome with two people who are incredibly important to me. Only, I didn’t want either of the people to realize it was a threesome and that I was fucking more than one of them.
Meanwhile, my classmates in my Thursday seminar were waiting around the corner for me.
Oh, my subconscious.
Nightmare by blueabyss17404
True story: I once sent the following text to a girlfriend while in an art museum:
This statue’s nipples look JUST like yours.
I just sort of felt it needed to be said. And I’m a little tired of modern standards for how every last minute detail on a woman’s body should look, when art shows such gorgeous variety.
Longing.
She said she’d be his muse. And so he made her art.
I need to get a muse. Or be a muse. I have all this creative energy lately and I just can’t seem to find an outlet.