Norwegian melancholy and NIN

So I've been wondering wether or not I wanted to post my last short story, but I came to the decision that if you chose to misinterpret it, you're stupid. Well no, but I have taken precautions and come up with a little warning. First of all, if you're faint at heart or just not interested in stories with sexual content, look away now. That being said I will asure you that this is not an erotic short story, nor is it a story about self pity. Other than that, you can interpret however you want, please don't pick on the errors in grammar and language and I hope you'll enjoy it.


With Teeth

The door was never locked. She had unlocked it ages ago in hopes that one day someone would pass through and save her. She waited for days and days until one cold winter night when he finally came. A gentle hand would stroke her back and tell her everything was going to be alright. His fingers were long and lean and they traced her bones and curves with admiration. Sometimes they would hit a special spot and she felt shivers down her spine. The saviour wore a mask, but his lips were visible. A smile stretched the soft, pink lips at almost all time, and when it touched her neck the shivers resulted in tingling between her scrawny legs. Sometimes she tried to convince him to take the mask off, but every time he refused. “My face must remain hidden,” he said. “If you see it, no one wins.” And she knew it was not for her.

After a while the saviour asked if they could play a game.
“It’s something new. You won’t dislike it. In fact, I think you might well enjoy it.”
“Will it make my legs quiver?” she asked curiously.
“Darling girl, it will make your legs go weak and your centre explode with joy.”
She liked this idea and agreed to enter. Filled with anticipation she let the masked saviour lift her pale arms over her head and wrap them in cold steel hanging from a hook she had never seen before. The chains were hard against her tiny wrists, and an entirely new kind of shiver sent through her. For a second she wondered if she really wanted to go through with this and she let a soft whimper escape her lips. Then she felt lean fingers brush her arms and soft words were whispered in her ear. This time, when the saviour’s hands touched her sweet spots, they didn’t move away, but continued to caress them until her whole body trembled. As the slender fingers put pressure on her centre, the place where her legs met, her lips parted and let out a sound of joy and something she had never felt before. The noises continued as his fingers found their way deeper in between. Later she would discover that the feeling she couldn’t explain was called pleasure, and that it was highly addictive, but right now all she knew was that she liked it and wanted it to never stop.

Night after night they continued to play the saviour’s game, and night after night the feeling (pleasure) grew stronger. Every time they played, the game would evolve, but her masked lover never let it completely reach its climax. She yearned for this climax, not knowing what it was, but the curiosity kept her going. Many times she had begged him for it, but like the removal of the mask, he refused.
“In time, my love, in time,” he had responded, followed by a whisper about how she one day would get everything she deserved. The he grabbed her hands and chained her to the ceiling.

Oh joy! The day had finally come. The day when she was to get everything she wanted, the day she had been longing for. No words had been exchanged about the matter, but she could feel it in her core. It was time. Her saviour followed her to their room, and as he watched she raised her arms and wrapped the chains around her own wrists. Their game started with the usual caressing of her bruised arms, and as usual she moaned when the hands moved towards her sex. This night he entered her from behind. One of his arms was clenched around her waist and the other was grabbing her left shoulder. The change was subtle, but she noticed it anyway. It was a change of intensity and a change in the game. The grip on her shoulder tightened as he increased the pace. In the back of her neck she could feel how his warm breath was starting to hit her faster, and in between her pleasure sounds she could hear him panting. Again he increased the intensity, and the grip tightened even more. The sensation was almost overwhelming, the mixture of the pain brought by the nails now digging deep into her skin and the exceeding pleasure in her underbelly made her moans evolve to a high pitched scream. This drove the saviour wild, and behind her head, where she couldn’t see, he bared a row of razor sharp teeth. With a motion so quick she almost didn’t register it he had removed his hand from her shoulder only to pull her ginger hair to the side and bare her throat. A sharp sting of pain hit her as his teeth penetrated the gentle skin and with an excruciating scream she came.

Days passed and her door stayed unlocked. Time had been moving slowly and it seemed like years since her saviour went away. At first she hadn’t understood what was happening, she was still dizzy from their little game. Blissfully happy, her mind had sort of switched itself off, and she didn’t at all register the world around her. When she first came to her senses it was because the chains had begun to tear up the skin around her wrists. Only after releasing herself did she start to wonder why her saviour wasn’t resting on their bed as he usually did when they were done playing. He wasn’t in their room at all. Gripped with panic and horror she left her house for the first time since he got there. She ran looking for him, but her legs were weak and she collapsed in the fresh snow. While the cold painted her skin red, purple and blue she could see a trail of scarlet from her doorstep to the place she was now resting. In a way she took comfort in this, because it proved he hadn’t drained her completely.

A few days later a new man entered her house. He too refused to remove his mask, but she accepted it quickly. They played the game by her saviour’s rules and when he had bitten her, he left. One by one she invited them in, and sometimes they were women. Some of them returned for another bite, but none of them stayed for long. Even after realizing that none of them could save her she let them feed on her. She never asked them to remove their masks anymore.

Six months passed playing the same game with her masked strangers. By the end of the seventh she was drained and bruised to the extent that she contemplated about locking her door. But that very moment, something changed. There was a knock on the door and a sweet scent. In crawled a man, lean like the others, but bruised like her self. She nurtured him, cared for him even, and after a while she dared to ask the question she had been neglecting for so long. Shock went through her as he did the unexpected and removed the mask. His eyes were dark and red and his skin unclean. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. At night he agreed to play her game, but she knew he never got completely comfortable with it. After a while he would release her arms from the shackles and place her softly on their bed. Tears ran down her cheeks as long fingers wrapped themselves around hers and a pink tongue licked her wounds. When his fingers traced her bones and curves the familiar tingling came in addition to warmth that spread from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers. The new lover never stopped before the game climaxed, and when they were finished playing he held her close until she fell asleep. It didn’t take long before she understood that this was the saviour she had been waiting for all along.

Years passed and the saviour continued to make her happy. She continued to nurture and care for him, and in return he healed her wounds and gave her pleasure. By now the wounds were merely scars, and her throat was white and clean again. Still he nursed the teeth marks, always afraid of new infections. She had had so many, and they always made her so aggressive. Some times though, while playing together, she missed the smiling lips of a masked man pressing against her neck and a playful roughness only one had managed to give her. Whenever she thought of this her new saviour would feel it, smell it even, and his eyes would be filled with agony and emotions she couldn’t understand. One time, when her infections were real bad, they had screamed at each other and he had left. When he came home that night his eyes were red, and like the first time she saw him, he crawled. He had left many times after that, but he always came home, and he always crawled. She didn’t like it when he left. Every time he came back he smelled a little bit different. Every time he came back he smelled a little bit worse.

“Darling, you reek.” Her infections were bad again, and he’d just come back for the second time that day. It wasn’t the first time he’d left more than once in one day, but it was the first time she had seen him like this. A quiver shook her spine as she looked into his big, black eyes which were starring back at her. For some reason he insisted to play the game the old way and chained her to her familiar spot. He continued to hold his expanding black eyes on hers as he took a firm grip around her waist and placed a hand on her scarred left shoulder. Already she could see what were to happen. Truly forcing herself, she looked into his growing eyes and permitted the following action with a hard nod before she tilted her head to the side. They starred at each other as he opened his mouth and bared rows on rows of yellow, sharp teeth. There was a soft kiss and a deep breath, and then he sucked her dry.

One by one the strangers walked through her open door. She divided them into two categories: gentle and violent. Both of the types were just as lost as her, she had realized this now, and what they did to her was no different from what she did to them. Shortly after the last saviour went away she started wearing his mask. It was one with her skin now and she could no longer remember how she had looked without it. Every lover left their mark, and even her body had changed beyond recognition. Some times she imagined, believed even, that this was all a dream, that she still lived with her masked saviour, that she was still beautiful and pure, and that in any minute she would wake up from this horrible nightmare and go back to normal. But once again she raised her mutilated arms above her head and let a lust scented stranger chain her to the ceiling.
"Oh, what I’d do for you” said the masked man, sincerity streaming through his soft voice.
“Oh, what we all do for this” she replied, kissing his bruised neck. “What we make ourselves do for the thrill of company”.

I need ooh la la la la la

I just... seriously, I... well... yeah...
Simplest sulotion: "You're just too physical to me. You're really just- just too- just- too really- fuck- no!"

How can anyone look this good (sorry, I mean devine) in a paper hat?!

Writers block

Since I can't come up with anything remotely intelligent to say, I'll just make a list. I've been rediscovering Nine Inch Nails lately and it's needless to say that an enormous crush on Trent Reznor reappeared. So when you're all alone at night and all you want is Trent (yes, the 4 other crushes are still dengerously hot, I don't jump from crush to crush, I have them all at once) you find your way to youtube and watch Closer 'till the sun rises. And as a tribute -or whatever you'd like to call it- to this timeless classic, I will make a list over my favorite sexually themed songs. This is not necesarily mean they are sexy songs, or songs you should make love to, just that they are, somehow, sexually themed, and I love them.






As I've already talked about the singer, I can start with Mando Diao (no spesific order, and please don't take me too serious)
#1 High Heels - Mando Diao. Well this one is incerdibly sexy, there's no way around it. The lyrics, the voice, the trumpet, it's simply "made for love"
#2 Ooh La La - Goldfrapp. Did you see what I did there? Yes, I quoted the next song on the list in the most horrible manner.
#3 Sunspots - Nine Inch Nails. Trent often uses "she" instead of "it", so he might as well be singing about ice cream for all I know, but there's no way around it, lyrics like "She turns me on" and "Fuck in the fire and we'll throw all the ashes around" makes this song, in my humble opinion, sexually themed. Reznor can make politics sexy, so telling you this is song is is close to overkill, but it is. Dead sexy, even.
#4 Pull my hair - Bright Eyes. Noisy, loud and definitly not sexy, but that doesn't mean it's not spectaculare.
#5 Fuck the Pain Away - Peaches. It kicks ass. Seriously.
#6 The Only Time - Nine Inch Nails. Oh yes, another one. I wasn't kidding when I said I was hung up on Trent. "This is a song about fucking". Well, no argue there.
#7 Hardly Wait - PJ Harvey. Of course she's here, she's a queen! She's a god! She's my god! "It's been so long, I've lost my taste. Here Romeo, make my world as great." Can you not love that?
#8 Bubblecum - Placebo. I guess the title gives it away.
#9 Venus in Furs - Velvet Underground. If you kow me at all you saw that one coming. Now this is the only song on the list that's actually bringing up fetishes (sure you can find references in some of the songs, but it's not really the main subject). Whenever I hear it I think about Bettie Page and I want to put on my own shiny, shiny boots of leather and dance in my underwear.
#10 This Mess We're In - PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke. This could be a song about a one night stand, an affair or a lusty daydream, but the bottom line is that it's beautiful. And my favorite duet of all time.



I'd love to tell you that's it, but there is one more. It felt wrong (really wrong) to put it on the list, but for some reason I can't finish this entry without mentioning it either. This is the song that made me fall in love with Patrick Wolf, not because it is his best (it's one of my favorites though), but because it hit me hard and made me nauseous. Yes, it's a song about sexual abuse. The song is called "The Childcatcher" and if you haven't already heard it I strongly recommend you to open your spotify and listen to it right now.

The most beautiful thing

She shines

In a world full of ugliness

She matters

When everything is meaningless

Fragile

She doesn't see her beauty

She tries to get away

Sometimes

It's just that nothing seems worth saving

I can't watch her slip away

I won't let you fall apart

She reads the minds of all the people that pass her by

Hoping someone can see

If I could fix myself I'd

-but it's too late for me

I won't let you fall apart

We'll find the perfect place to go where we can run and hide

I'll build a wall and we can keep them on the other side

...but they keep waiting

...and picking

It's something I have to do

I was there too

Before everything else

I was like you

Just because 11 people dedicated this song to you before I did, it doesn't make this dedication less meaningfull. I mean every single word. I love you beyond reason.

Physical

I am sorry for lack of blogging lately. It's not there's not enough time, I have no job or school, so with me there's always time, but I'm suffering from a bad case of writer's block. But as an apology (a horrible one) I will give you a quick update on what I've been doing the first weeks of 2010:

1: Drinking heavily on weekends with my dearest Jackie.

2: Ending something that hadn't actually yet started.
3: Started working on my portpholio (need one for art school, and I'm not sending the same crap I sent last year)

4: Listening to a hell of a lot to Nine Inch Nails.
Yes, that's basically it.

New set of selfportraits though, and though I know most of you will get the wrong impression I choose to not give a fuck and post them anyway. Mostly they're taken so I can practise drawing torsos twisting in every possible direction, and learn what shadows really look like.

I forbid comments about my body. It's merely a subject and I don't want your opinion, nor would it matter as, due to the twisting and lighting, it looks nothing like it normally does. Try to look at them as art and enjoy the soft colors. Background is cluttered because I want it to be, and if you don't want to watch them in large scale, please don't. Judge as much as you want, but keep it to yourself. constructive critisism is much appreciated.

Rediscovering Jethro

So it's the first day of the new year and I already have the first crush of 2010. Well actually it's more like the 4 first.
Sure, this was actually intended to be about the past year and the new one, but what the hell, the last one was all about them, and this will be to, so I'll just continue telling you about all those beautiful boyz.


The musician (and ideal man)
Gustaf Norén of Mando Diao, swedish indie rock band.

The legend's son (and second ideal man)
Jethro Cave, model and son of the ever so brilliant musician Nick Cave

The models
Josh Beech and Ash Stymest

They are all beautiful, mysterious, dark haired, tall and almost dangerously skinny, but hey, I never said I didn't have a type. Of course, as a Bad Seeds fan, I've known about the model son for quite a while, but for some reason I never found him interesting until recently. Now I've fallen in love and if I'm no longer interested in men who don't look like him. If they're not similair to any of the other 3.

Loverman no.1, anyhow, would be the gorgeous vocalist of Mando, 'cause not only is he unbelievably hot (yes, sometimes I use the h-word), but I am - like any other girl who've ever used the phrase "Music is my hot hot sex" and meant it -a sucker for musicians. I am fully aware of the hopelessness of my situation, but I don't care. Gustaf Norén, if you want me, I'm so yours!

I allow myself to talk like this, because if you didn't already know, 2010 is my last year as a teenager. Yes, I will definitely take advantage of this.

Arn the Amazing

I lost my heart in Holland. It rests with the super pirate Arn in a flat in Den Haag. He's a four year old boy who held my hand for an entire day and cried when I left. After visiting Amsterdam, the little boy from Den Haag is the memory which shines the brightest.

As usual I forgot to bring my camera, so unfortunately there's no pictures of anything but the clothes I wore when I left Norway. I am aware of how narsisistic this sounds. However, both Amsterdam and Den Haag were great, and though theres's not much to tell (it was a very short trip) I had a really good time. I plan to visit Amsterdam again, and experience more of the city than just the main streets. There are limits for what me and my sister dare to explore alone in the city without any form of guidance (we didn't even have a map). What I can say about Holland is that it is exactly how I imagined it to be, windmills, coffee shops, the strong smell of marihuana at the open streets and fuck loads of people.