In case my previous post didn’t make it amazingly obvious, I was in Adelaide last weekend for AVCon.

As with all my interstate trips, I try to find something interesting while I’m away. Failing that, a cheaper version of something I could get locally… hooray! Savings of an economic variety!

I got Tequila, and I got Poire William, which is a pear flavoured liqueur that is meant to be a neutral grain base, but is usually evaporated brandy. You may have seen the extra fancy bottles that actually have a real pear inside! They make those by tying the bottles to tree branches where the pears are budding, and pop the bud of the pear inside the bottle neck. Eventually, you’ve got a pear growing inside a bottle, and then it’s just a matter of pouring booze in there and letting it sit after harvest season. Weird site seeing all those trees with bottles tied to them, I’m told… Not that I can find Poire william of that calibre Anyway, the particular brand I got screams to go with a bit of vanilla, but still works quite well with tequila, and a few other juices.

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There’s been a distinct lack of posts lately. I apologise for this. In my defence I’ve been busy organising a convention, trips to two other conventions, stock levels for products like wittily sloganned badges (What is the sound of one hand fapping?), and generally trying to not smoke whilst simultaneously not killing people in my immediate vicinity due to the amazingly stupid things they’re currently doing that affect my state of life.

So I’m smoking again…

Anyway, I’ve been in Adelaide for a bit. Odd city. Small, quiet, pleasant (except for the water). It’s large enough to be interesting without being overwhelming. I rather enjoy it. But the scene there is just odd. The whole place is somewhat contradictory.

Friday night, I’m out and about with Trey, and he’s dressed as he usually is, which is to say women’s cut clothing that’s otherwise fairly unisex. We’re in Rundle mall, a fairly gentrified part of Adelaide. I jokingly warn him that it gets pretty rough there. Within 30 seconds he’s being assualted by a guy with a mullet that would put Captain Planet’s to shame.

Coming to his defence isn’t an issue. I do it swiftly, wordlessly, and glare the redneck down. Promises of fucking up my cunt later, we’re away to find some Italian food while I decide maybe I should wear my riding gloves in case it happens again. For the rest of the evening people are looking at me as though I’m the thug.

Trey is getting progressively sicker, shivering  in a little quivering ball that refuses to eat, but happily makes his way through a quarter of a tequila bottle. Supposedly it’s better medicine than the Sudafed packed. Who am I to argue? To each their own, and surely my medicinal methods could be viewed just as strangely by others. Herbalists no doubt laugh at me with my empirically proven tinctures.

I like Adelaide. For all its eccentricities it contains surprises. Some of my most cherished friends are there. I get to see them perhap twice a year. This is probably why I value them so much… They’re simply not here to piss me off. If they were here, I question if they would help me move my furniture. I’m not sure on that one. Even if they intended to help, could they? They are all such small things, easily damaged in a crushing embrace, and powerless with shorter, even shawn, hair.

Sunday night was interesting in a way that it normally is not. A normal Sunday would involve wishing there was more weekend. Regrets of things not done. Thinking maybe somehow another day could be squeezed in, but truly knowing it can’t be. This one wasn’t like that. It was spent with two close friends and a virtual stranger.

It was also spent sober.

Oddly enoguh, that made the night more amusing, especially when it came to watching horrendously violent and pornographic videos that we proceeded to dub terribly, or play music in time to. This proves that a good time can be had without the assistance of alcohol, but an orgy generally can’t. It feels a waste that we didn’t have the orgy in true Roman style. A bathroom as overstated as the one we were in should probably have hada  bit of vomit thrown in with all the blue dye left behind.

Odd city for odd people.

I feel at home there…

We all love Science here at the Goth Club, oh yes we do. It gives us all kinds of wonderful things, like extra cyborg attachements, or a better reason to be a bastard to someone.

Lately, it’s also shown us why fewer women tend to be subs in these stereo typical relationships. You will notice in the example picture who is recieving pain: Not the woman.

Why?

As it turns out, women feel pain in a much more intense manner than men. Men focus on, and disregard, physical pain. Women (apparently) focus on the emotional side of it. For the average woman, this means a more intense sensation of pain as the memories of other past pains are dredged up.

Which leads me into why I would bother posting this here: Kermit th– no, I mean BDSM.

I’ve noticed that the women in my life seem to be much more interested in BDSM than the men in my life. Particularly the softer end of it, like pinching and spanking… although a few are into whips, and impressively large, unlubed butt plugs that they order off the net whilst drunk and then figure they’ll try it out anyway as otherwise it’s a waste of money and kind of end up enjoying it and then go and start a serious collecton of them.

Now this is almost always a sexualisation of the pain… and as someone that doesn’t really derive any particular satisfaction or great discomfort (or indeed sensation, due to some nerve damage, unless heat or pressure are applied) from these activities I have to admit I don’t get it. What is it about women finding emotionally, sexually satisfying contact, in low levels of pain and subjugation?

My theory is somewhat Freudian actually. Most woman find that the first male figure to care for them is their fathers, but this is the same figure that is likely to apply discipline. Both through emotional subjugation (yelling), and application of physical consequences for negative actions (spanking) to provide an over all positive outcome.

During formative years these messages basically get mixed together, leading some women to associate such behaviour with being cared for on an emotional level.

Conversely, we have it at the other end as well. Girls don’t rough and tumble as much as boys do whilst growing up, and when they do, they’re told off for it. So you have less likelihood for having “fun” that involves physical pain, as well as negative reinforcement against anything that might actually cause that pain, making physical pain less encountered, and therefore an experience that they are not familiar with, creating a feedback loop that makes it even less expected, and therefore more painful.

So anyway, as it turns out I need to make a rather large apology to my long term partner, Jaz. I always thought she was just an incredibly big pussy… A joke that’s much funnier if you know her, because she’s 6’1″, can bench 50kg without a hassle, and enjoys having sex with me. She’s also going to introduce me to my own friend pain after reading this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0KP87xkN_Q

Another drink for another friend.

This one is refusing to talk to anyone today, which is odd. I thought I’d attempt to trick her into talking by giving me drink ingredients. FAIL! On the flip side, I did get items written down on a slip of paper, and it gave me a few good ideas.

Why she’s not talking? I don’t know, she hasn’t said yet. I’m assuming it’s stress… or angst… or perhaps embittered darkness.

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