Archive for the ‘Love & Eros’ Category

Monstera Deliciosa & That Ol’ Devil Moon [Mephisto]

Lately, I’ve been a really good boy. Reigning in my tendency to bruise egos, piss people off, and let my loose lips sink ships. I found myself holding it, turning the other cheek, waiting for the train, waxing philosophical, and shit like that. I have been suffering revelatory visions that just wouldn’t quit.

I hate to say it people, but not only have these revelatory visions given me a headache, they let it be known that i ought to lose mojo.

Is this what happens when you start walking that slow and  tortuous path to enlightenment? Is this what happens when you start giving up negative thoughts for positive ones? Is this what happens when you let go of all that negative shit you held dear  and near for so many years, and replace them with positive shit?

Good question.

Do you become a parody of all that is decent about being a good person, eat cheese at social functions? Do you become a parody, period? Do you become a good purrrrrrrrr-son! Do you lose your mojo?

On the face of it, it would seem so.

I escaped Sydney last week, and headed for the anonymous confines of Brisbane. Where I was hoping certain issues would lay dormant. But alas no.

When Soul Sister picked me up from Brisbane airport last Thursday night, and we were driving to Chermside, for a coffee and to pick up some supplies, she wanted to vent. She vented, and vented, and vented, and vented some more. She wanted to vent and she needed to vent. I had already vented. My vent was to escape Sydney. Another vent is planned for next month!

Yippee, Mephisto Rocks!

The conversation in the car turned to the issue of jealousy. A few revelations raised my ire.

“What the fuck!” I opined. “You mean to say………? What do you want me to do, go back to Sydney?” I wanted to slam my fists on the dashboard, I wanted to spit poison and kill, I wanted to……. I became inert.

“Oh sweetie,” she said, “It’s not you. Honestly it’s not you!”

Maybe I need to spend more time reading alpha male sites that tell you to be a man in 25 points or less lists?

But ahh, did I lose my mojo? Not a FUCKING chance in hell.

The next night, Friday, being Black Cat Friday, the world went mad. After a birthday dinner at the Full Moon Hotel, inspired by some slight intoxication, combined with pissed offedness, and Mephisto showing his rambunctious face, Soul Sister got on the blower [read: Facebook], and start fishing to see who would bite.

I rechannelled all that negative energy into a behind the scenes commentary, providing an astute analysis of the insipid replies, to Soul Sister’s challenging Facebook status updates, and providing some constructive criticisms which were disregarded in the interests of diplomacy, at is, oh never mind, just take my word or it, I got pulled up something bad.

I got pulled up something bad indeed!

Of course I am being extremely liberal with the truth, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway, would you!

Monstera Deliciosa & That Ol’ Devil Moon [Prologue]

Monstera Deliciosa is tearing his arse around the dance floor at the Bebe le Strange. He is shaking it up with that writhing mass of humanity, flailing their hands in the air as the strobe lights scan the crowd. Outside two men are fighting over who will take another home. Devil Moon, hanging full and high, she beams and fills the garden with light, gazing down with eyes that see nothing,

Nothing at all.

Monstera is an ancient demon whose shibboleth is “Let’s paint the town green!”, “Begrudge the happiness of others,” and most importantly, “Don’t put your money where your mouth is, SPEND IT!”

An alpha male with a wet handshake and no balls, a philanthropic spirit dedicated to your happiness, and the benefit of all mankind. His good work is evidenced by the destruction of contentment. Locking you with his emerald green eyes, Monstera  will  swear that he is devoted to you, and only you.

He “…is a monogamous lover” he asserts, whose “…monogamy is omnipresent.” He loves to play. He seduces and cajoles, and stroking back your hair and breathlessly whispering your name, as he lays you down. When his back arches as someone, somewhere calls his name, you feel that cold wind of desolation.