16 March 06
Anal Virginity Threats: A Peeping Tom?
(Threat level: mild)
“How come you’ve been showing up so much recently when I’ve been sat on the toilet, George?"
“I think you’re a reverse voyeur,” George said. “You see me coming up the walkway and – wham bam – you drop the royal drawers."
“I think you’ve been getting peeping-Tom jollies at my expense.”
“I think you orchestrate it, Jon.”
“That’s wishful thinking in your warped mind.”
“I don’t think about you in that fashion since you’ve turned out to be a homophobic superhetro. I’ve no inkling at all. If you dropped the royal drawers right now and got a woodie, I’d step back and say ‘Hmm. How interesting. How utterly British’.”
“That sounds like a cover story for your recent voyeurism.”
“I don’t think it’s voyeurism on my fart – oops! – I meant, on my part. I think it’s exhibitionism on yours.”
“You were doing well, George, but the Freudian slip gave you away. Fart slipping out suggests the guilt you are experiencing from peeping at me on the toilet – a position in which I’m likely to release wind."
“That’s not true. You’re an exhibitionist who likes to show off the royal bum. And, speaking of Freud, I believe the problem stems from your Oedipus complex, when you were a young child screaming, ‘Wipe my royal bum, Mum’.”
“Then please explain the increasing frequency of your visits when I’m on the toilet?”
“That’s just chance.”
“Oh, yeah. Explain the gawking then?”
“Well, I’ve never seen anyone quite wipe their butt like you do.”
“How so?”
“It’s odd. There’s a regal air to it. You cock your head back and flap your arm out.”
“George, they are necessary movements for bum wiping.”
"Yes, Jon, but you do it so aristocratically.”
“The fact that you can detail my wiping technique is proof of your crime. Anyone else seeing me on the toilet would quickly turn away, and not ponder how I'm wiping.”
A sinister look came over George's face and his trembling arms reached for my thigh.
I grabbed my pen and quickly stabbed his arm.
Seeing I'd drawn blood, he shrieked and ran out of the cell.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Sunday, May 7, 2006
Saturday, May 6, 2006
12 March 06
The Chicken Patty
“Hey, you gonna eat your chicken patty?” Little Wood, a youngster, shouted to Two Tonys.
“No, I’m not,” Two Tonys said.
“Can I get it?”
“Lemme check with my dawg here first,” Two Tonys said. “Hey, Cowboy, you want my chicken patty?”
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah,” Cowboy, a lifer, said. “I wannit if you’re not gonna eat it.”
“Hey, I asked first," Little Wood said in a raised voice. “I thought we were better than that, Two Tonys.”
“Hey, Little Wood,” Two Tonys said. “You know Cowboy here’s my road dawg. He’s gonna get food off my tray before you. You gotta accept that.”
“Fuck it,” Little Wood said. “I ain’t talkin’ to you no more. I ain’t got no rap for you.”
“Awww,” Two Tonys said. “How da fuck am I gonna make it through life without you rappin’ to me. I’m sixty-five-fuckin-years old. I’ve killed sixty-three of those years without you rappin’ to me. Do you think I can make it through another ten?”
Little Wood scowled at Two Tonys.
“What the fuck, Little Wood,” Two Tonys said. “Are we gonna have beef over a chicken fuckin’ patty? If that’s the way it is, fuck it, you ain’t got nothin’ comin’ from me.”
Two Tonys and Cowboy took their trays to their regular table - out of earshot of Little Wood. Cowboy took the chicken patty.
“Would ya believe it,” Two Tonys said. “Here I am, a guy who’s eaten abalone in Hawaii, and lobster in Cancun, and I’ve got a jabroni over here who wants to argue with me over a thirty-nine-cent, state-issue, piece-o-shit chicken patty. Sometimes I think I’m better off checkin’ outta this fuckin’ place and seein’ what’s on the other side. Stupid shit like this – arguin’ over chicken patties – makes my fuckin' blood boil.”
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Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
The Chicken Patty
“Hey, you gonna eat your chicken patty?” Little Wood, a youngster, shouted to Two Tonys.
“No, I’m not,” Two Tonys said.
“Can I get it?”
“Lemme check with my dawg here first,” Two Tonys said. “Hey, Cowboy, you want my chicken patty?”
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah,” Cowboy, a lifer, said. “I wannit if you’re not gonna eat it.”
“Hey, I asked first," Little Wood said in a raised voice. “I thought we were better than that, Two Tonys.”
“Hey, Little Wood,” Two Tonys said. “You know Cowboy here’s my road dawg. He’s gonna get food off my tray before you. You gotta accept that.”
“Fuck it,” Little Wood said. “I ain’t talkin’ to you no more. I ain’t got no rap for you.”
“Awww,” Two Tonys said. “How da fuck am I gonna make it through life without you rappin’ to me. I’m sixty-five-fuckin-years old. I’ve killed sixty-three of those years without you rappin’ to me. Do you think I can make it through another ten?”
Little Wood scowled at Two Tonys.
“What the fuck, Little Wood,” Two Tonys said. “Are we gonna have beef over a chicken fuckin’ patty? If that’s the way it is, fuck it, you ain’t got nothin’ comin’ from me.”
Two Tonys and Cowboy took their trays to their regular table - out of earshot of Little Wood. Cowboy took the chicken patty.
“Would ya believe it,” Two Tonys said. “Here I am, a guy who’s eaten abalone in Hawaii, and lobster in Cancun, and I’ve got a jabroni over here who wants to argue with me over a thirty-nine-cent, state-issue, piece-o-shit chicken patty. Sometimes I think I’m better off checkin’ outta this fuckin’ place and seein’ what’s on the other side. Stupid shit like this – arguin’ over chicken patties – makes my fuckin' blood boil.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Thursday, May 4, 2006
10 March 06
Ogre Romances The Giantess
“My back's killin’,”Ogre said.
“I’m told George gives good back massages,” I said.
“No!" Ogre said.
It’s alright. If you sit on a stool, his hands won’t be able to slip down to your lower regions.”
“That motherfucker wanted to take a shower with me. He offered to exfoliate my back.”
“Did you take him up on that?”
“Hell no! I told him I’d beat his ass down in the shower.”
Entering the cell, Xena said, "The worst part about gettin’ beaten down by me is that I’m a homosexual.”
“Yeah,” Ogre said, turning to me. “Imagine a six-and-a-half foot, two-hundred-and-somethin’-pound fag, beatin’ you up and takin’ your ass.”
“I only do that to people like you, Ogre. I’ll tell you what, seein’ as though you claim you’ve never took it in the ass before, I’ll go easy on you at first.” Xena, drew circles in the air with his fingers while describing in detail what he would do to Ogre.
“Stop. You’re makin' me blush,” Ogre said.
“I’m gonna hafta blog this, Ogre,” I said.
“If you make me out to be a queer on the Internet, I’ll give you a fuckin’ black eye!”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Ogre Romances The Giantess
“My back's killin’,”Ogre said.
“I’m told George gives good back massages,” I said.
“No!" Ogre said.
It’s alright. If you sit on a stool, his hands won’t be able to slip down to your lower regions.”
“That motherfucker wanted to take a shower with me. He offered to exfoliate my back.”
“Did you take him up on that?”
“Hell no! I told him I’d beat his ass down in the shower.”
Entering the cell, Xena said, "The worst part about gettin’ beaten down by me is that I’m a homosexual.”
“Yeah,” Ogre said, turning to me. “Imagine a six-and-a-half foot, two-hundred-and-somethin’-pound fag, beatin’ you up and takin’ your ass.”
“I only do that to people like you, Ogre. I’ll tell you what, seein’ as though you claim you’ve never took it in the ass before, I’ll go easy on you at first.” Xena, drew circles in the air with his fingers while describing in detail what he would do to Ogre.
“Stop. You’re makin' me blush,” Ogre said.
“I’m gonna hafta blog this, Ogre,” I said.
“If you make me out to be a queer on the Internet, I’ll give you a fuckin’ black eye!”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Wednesday, May 3, 2006
08 March 06
Psychotherapy with Dr O’Malley (Part 1)
Psychotherapy with Dr. O, a cognitive behaviourist and neuropsychologist, has commenced.
When I arrived at his office a Mozart concerto was playing.
After exchanging greetings, he began by reading some homework he had assigned me when I was at Medical viewing my mental health records.
Homework question:
Look at what you are doing with yoga, and how you use it to confront mental health issues. How could you do better?
My response:
My emotions seem to depend on two things: activating events and my interpretations of those events. Mental yoga has taught me that I have the power to choose whether or not I become upset about events over which I have no control.
Siddha Yoga teaches that activating events are kriyas, (purification processes) necessary to restore karma. If something bad happens, I shouldn’t mope. I should appreciate that I’m having a kriya, that the Shakti (cosmic force) is cleaning out samskaras (impressions that misshape current thoughts) to restore my karma. If I suffer a depression, I can wallow in self-pity and exacerbate the condition, or I can choose to recognize – and maybe even rejoice – that the Skakti is cleaning out the depression and restoring karma.
This approach is similar to Stoic philosophy taught by Epictetus, who pointed out that people are disturbed not by events, but by the views which they take of them.
If I feel stressed, I can use yogic breathing (full belly breathing with active exhalation as opposed to shallow chest breathing) to calm down. Concentrating on breathing instead of on a stressful event can enable me to relax.
I am striving to do better by following Socrates’ advice – know thyself – and by learning cognitive and yogic techniques to manage my flaws. I’ve discovered that one of the causes of my wild partying may have been the need to self-medicate depression and anxiety problems that I never knew existed until I received professional help after being arrested. I aim to do better by learning, and putting that knowledge into practice.
The first thing he said after reading my homework was, “Do you ever feel like you’re a fish out of water?”
“In here or before my arrest?” I asked.
“Whichever.”
“Yeah. Since I was a teenager.”
“How was you family life?”
“Normal. Good parents and a younger sister who I teased a lot.”
“Why did you do drugs?”
“Perhaps so I wouldn’t feel like a fish out of water, to self-medicate depressions triggered by relationship breakdowns - I don’t know all the reasons.”
“Which drugs did you use?”
“Club drugs: Ecstasy, Special K, and GHB. We were a modern-day Ken Kesey and the Pranksters.”
“Do you know how Ecstasy works?”
“It raises serotonin levels, and may cause brain damage when abused.”
“How long have you been doing yoga for?”
“My sister, Karen, sent me a beginners’ book not long after my arrest. It must be over three years now.”
“Yoga systems have been around for over five-thousand years. Yoga can help the brain. The Dalai Lama had neuroscientists monitor the brain-wave activity of Buddhist monks, and they found increased gamma-wave activity. By exercising the brain through techniques such as yoga, we know that you can restructure certain parts of the brain.”
“By neurogenesis?”
“Yes. The brain is malleable in small but significant ways. For example, a brain scan of a musician listening to music will show more biochemical activity in specific areas of the brain, that when you or I listen to music.”
“Wow! So we really can workout and reshape our brains?”
“Yes. And that’s what you’ve been doing with the yoga you’ve written about. There are many types of yoga. There are strange yogic paths that some people take.”
“Like Aleister Crowley?”
“Yes. He did, but tell me what you are looking to get out of these therapy sessions?”
“I want to understand myself better. I don’t want to go through life having runs of success followed by knocking everything down. If I can understand my past mistakes, I’ll be less likely to repeat them in the future.”
“Yoga and psychotherapy should give you a growing awareness of yourself. You must learn to be happy in the present – with or without success. You certainly shouldn’t be beating yourself up – whether consciously or subconsciously. I’m going to have you do a PSI [Personality Assessment Inventory] test this week, and we’ll go from there. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, why is it every time I get going with psychotherapy, the doctor gets moved? Will you be here for the foreseeable future?”
“I’d like to say yes, but frankly, with DOC, you never know. DOC is like a glacier moving incredibly slowly, and every now and then a fragment chips off, and you never know if you will be in that fragment.”
“Well, I hope they keep you here. I like the cognitive approach, and I think I could make a lot of progress with you."
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Psychotherapy with Dr O’Malley (Part 1)
Psychotherapy with Dr. O, a cognitive behaviourist and neuropsychologist, has commenced.
When I arrived at his office a Mozart concerto was playing.
After exchanging greetings, he began by reading some homework he had assigned me when I was at Medical viewing my mental health records.
Homework question:
Look at what you are doing with yoga, and how you use it to confront mental health issues. How could you do better?
My response:
My emotions seem to depend on two things: activating events and my interpretations of those events. Mental yoga has taught me that I have the power to choose whether or not I become upset about events over which I have no control.
Siddha Yoga teaches that activating events are kriyas, (purification processes) necessary to restore karma. If something bad happens, I shouldn’t mope. I should appreciate that I’m having a kriya, that the Shakti (cosmic force) is cleaning out samskaras (impressions that misshape current thoughts) to restore my karma. If I suffer a depression, I can wallow in self-pity and exacerbate the condition, or I can choose to recognize – and maybe even rejoice – that the Skakti is cleaning out the depression and restoring karma.
This approach is similar to Stoic philosophy taught by Epictetus, who pointed out that people are disturbed not by events, but by the views which they take of them.
If I feel stressed, I can use yogic breathing (full belly breathing with active exhalation as opposed to shallow chest breathing) to calm down. Concentrating on breathing instead of on a stressful event can enable me to relax.
I am striving to do better by following Socrates’ advice – know thyself – and by learning cognitive and yogic techniques to manage my flaws. I’ve discovered that one of the causes of my wild partying may have been the need to self-medicate depression and anxiety problems that I never knew existed until I received professional help after being arrested. I aim to do better by learning, and putting that knowledge into practice.
The first thing he said after reading my homework was, “Do you ever feel like you’re a fish out of water?”
“In here or before my arrest?” I asked.
“Whichever.”
“Yeah. Since I was a teenager.”
“How was you family life?”
“Normal. Good parents and a younger sister who I teased a lot.”
“Why did you do drugs?”
“Perhaps so I wouldn’t feel like a fish out of water, to self-medicate depressions triggered by relationship breakdowns - I don’t know all the reasons.”
“Which drugs did you use?”
“Club drugs: Ecstasy, Special K, and GHB. We were a modern-day Ken Kesey and the Pranksters.”
“Do you know how Ecstasy works?”
“It raises serotonin levels, and may cause brain damage when abused.”
“How long have you been doing yoga for?”
“My sister, Karen, sent me a beginners’ book not long after my arrest. It must be over three years now.”
“Yoga systems have been around for over five-thousand years. Yoga can help the brain. The Dalai Lama had neuroscientists monitor the brain-wave activity of Buddhist monks, and they found increased gamma-wave activity. By exercising the brain through techniques such as yoga, we know that you can restructure certain parts of the brain.”
“By neurogenesis?”
“Yes. The brain is malleable in small but significant ways. For example, a brain scan of a musician listening to music will show more biochemical activity in specific areas of the brain, that when you or I listen to music.”
“Wow! So we really can workout and reshape our brains?”
“Yes. And that’s what you’ve been doing with the yoga you’ve written about. There are many types of yoga. There are strange yogic paths that some people take.”
“Like Aleister Crowley?”
“Yes. He did, but tell me what you are looking to get out of these therapy sessions?”
“I want to understand myself better. I don’t want to go through life having runs of success followed by knocking everything down. If I can understand my past mistakes, I’ll be less likely to repeat them in the future.”
“Yoga and psychotherapy should give you a growing awareness of yourself. You must learn to be happy in the present – with or without success. You certainly shouldn’t be beating yourself up – whether consciously or subconsciously. I’m going to have you do a PSI [Personality Assessment Inventory] test this week, and we’ll go from there. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, why is it every time I get going with psychotherapy, the doctor gets moved? Will you be here for the foreseeable future?”
“I’d like to say yes, but frankly, with DOC, you never know. DOC is like a glacier moving incredibly slowly, and every now and then a fragment chips off, and you never know if you will be in that fragment.”
“Well, I hope they keep you here. I like the cognitive approach, and I think I could make a lot of progress with you."
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Sunday, April 30, 2006
07 March 06
Bars to Education
For over a year, I’ve been trying to do a prison-approved correspondence course through Rio Salado College.
Problems started at Buckeye when my scholarship applications were rejected over and over again. The reasons included not having a GED (General Education Diploma or High School diploma, similar to UK GCSE), being educated overseas, and having no college courses completed while in prison. I tried to meet each obstacle but got nowhere. I produced my British certificates, including my BA Honours degree, and was told it meant nothing unless I paid an international transcript translator to state its US equivalency. For having no prior college courses completed in prison, I was told to do a woodwork class. As having a bachelor’s degree didn’t meet the GED requirement, I sat the ASSET test and achieved the highest score – causing glimmers of hope – but then I was moved to Tucson, which is in Pima County and scholarships were only available in Maricopa County.
After witnessing my struggle for a scholarship, my parents put money on my books to pay for Psychology 101 – a three credit course costing $336. The forms were filled out and sent for approval and the money was deducted, but the forms got lost. I’m now back to square one, but down $336, so things have regressed.
Undaunted, I obtained the Psychology 101 course material from a prisoner friend, and I’m doing in on my own volition.
Further education helps prisoners get jobs and reintegrate with society. DOC claims to be making progress with GEDs - they should also remove the needless obstacles to higher learning.
With the money deducted from my books, I’m seeking approval to apply it to a course titled Modern Fiction. Wish me luck.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Bars to Education
For over a year, I’ve been trying to do a prison-approved correspondence course through Rio Salado College.
Problems started at Buckeye when my scholarship applications were rejected over and over again. The reasons included not having a GED (General Education Diploma or High School diploma, similar to UK GCSE), being educated overseas, and having no college courses completed while in prison. I tried to meet each obstacle but got nowhere. I produced my British certificates, including my BA Honours degree, and was told it meant nothing unless I paid an international transcript translator to state its US equivalency. For having no prior college courses completed in prison, I was told to do a woodwork class. As having a bachelor’s degree didn’t meet the GED requirement, I sat the ASSET test and achieved the highest score – causing glimmers of hope – but then I was moved to Tucson, which is in Pima County and scholarships were only available in Maricopa County.
After witnessing my struggle for a scholarship, my parents put money on my books to pay for Psychology 101 – a three credit course costing $336. The forms were filled out and sent for approval and the money was deducted, but the forms got lost. I’m now back to square one, but down $336, so things have regressed.
Undaunted, I obtained the Psychology 101 course material from a prisoner friend, and I’m doing in on my own volition.
Further education helps prisoners get jobs and reintegrate with society. DOC claims to be making progress with GEDs - they should also remove the needless obstacles to higher learning.
With the money deducted from my books, I’m seeking approval to apply it to a course titled Modern Fiction. Wish me luck.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Saturday, April 29, 2006
06 March 06
Xena’s Sex Toys
Silent and hungry we were, awaiting our chow, when Xena suddenly announced, “I made a vibrator once – called the Bumblebee.”
“How’d you make it?" I asked.
“I put the motor from a Walkman into the round plastic bottom of a stick deodorant, and turned it on by taping a wire to it from two double-A batteries.”
“So you made your own pocket rocket,” I said.
“How big was it?” Repo asked.
“Six inches,” Xena said, “But it wasn’t that big around. I didn’t like it that much: it didn’t hit the anal G-spot. After usin’ it a few times, I destroyed it. It was nowhere near as good as the dildo I made.”
“Lets hear how you made the dildo,” Repo said.
“I rolled the cardboard back of a notepad into a mould, and melted strips of plastic bag onto it until I had a nice smooth piece of ten inch plastic -”
Ten inches! I thought.
“- and then I removed the cardboard. To make it more realistic, I wrapped copper wire from co-ax cable around the plastic, and melted more plastic around that. When it was set, I pulled the copper out, giving it hard veins. To give it a penis head, I melted plastic around a deodorant lid until it was bulbous shaped. After takin’ it off its mould, I melted it onto the dildo, so the shaft had a penis-shaped head attached to it.”
Ouch, I thought.
Repo seemed to be deep in thought: “Could you see in your ass when you used it?”
“Yeah,” said Xena. “I was by myself in a cell, so, I’d turn off the TV and lights, and watch myself gettin' freaky in the reflection of the TV screen.”
“You’ve got serious issues, bitch,” Repo said. “Did you write your own manual about its length and girth?”
“I didn’t get round to that,” Xena said.
It seemed like as good a time as any to ask Xena a question inspired by Ann Rice’s Sleeping Beauty Trilogy: “Xena did you ever make yourself a butt plug with a pony tail?”
“A butt plug – no. I can’t put somethin’ in my ass and walk around. Stuff like that makes me feel like I’ve constantly gotta take a dump. Do you ever feel like that, Repo?
Onlookers laughed.
“No,” Repo said.
“If you’d like, Repo, I’ll write down step-by-step instructions for fuckin’ yourself in the ass?”
“Nope,” Repo said. “My ass is strictly a one-way street.”
“I find that hard to believe. Surely you’ve keystered somethin’ or had a thermometer shoved in it when you were a kid?” Xena said with conviction.
“To the best of my knowledge, no! Repo said.
“No dildos?
“No, definitely not. But I’ll lend you my toothbrush holder if you wanna make yourself another big one.”
“What happened to your dildo?” I asked.
“After a month of pure pleasure, there were some random cell searches, and the cops found it.”
“Did you get a ticket for having a sex toy?” I asked.
“No, but the guards freaked out. They had no idea how to write it up as a ticket. There’s no mention of dildos in DOC policy. A sergeant put my name on it, and displayed it in his office window. That fuelled me and made me more exhilarated. I was really freaky back then. It was in his window at SMU1 for over a year."
What other kinky items have you made? I asked.
“Handcuffs, whips, leather G-strings, and a beaded G-string, and makeup,” Xena said.
“Which was the kinkiest?”
“The beaded G-string.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it someday.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Xena’s Sex Toys
Silent and hungry we were, awaiting our chow, when Xena suddenly announced, “I made a vibrator once – called the Bumblebee.”
“How’d you make it?" I asked.
“I put the motor from a Walkman into the round plastic bottom of a stick deodorant, and turned it on by taping a wire to it from two double-A batteries.”
“So you made your own pocket rocket,” I said.
“How big was it?” Repo asked.
“Six inches,” Xena said, “But it wasn’t that big around. I didn’t like it that much: it didn’t hit the anal G-spot. After usin’ it a few times, I destroyed it. It was nowhere near as good as the dildo I made.”
“Lets hear how you made the dildo,” Repo said.
“I rolled the cardboard back of a notepad into a mould, and melted strips of plastic bag onto it until I had a nice smooth piece of ten inch plastic -”
Ten inches! I thought.
“- and then I removed the cardboard. To make it more realistic, I wrapped copper wire from co-ax cable around the plastic, and melted more plastic around that. When it was set, I pulled the copper out, giving it hard veins. To give it a penis head, I melted plastic around a deodorant lid until it was bulbous shaped. After takin’ it off its mould, I melted it onto the dildo, so the shaft had a penis-shaped head attached to it.”
Ouch, I thought.
Repo seemed to be deep in thought: “Could you see in your ass when you used it?”
“Yeah,” said Xena. “I was by myself in a cell, so, I’d turn off the TV and lights, and watch myself gettin' freaky in the reflection of the TV screen.”
“You’ve got serious issues, bitch,” Repo said. “Did you write your own manual about its length and girth?”
“I didn’t get round to that,” Xena said.
It seemed like as good a time as any to ask Xena a question inspired by Ann Rice’s Sleeping Beauty Trilogy: “Xena did you ever make yourself a butt plug with a pony tail?”
“A butt plug – no. I can’t put somethin’ in my ass and walk around. Stuff like that makes me feel like I’ve constantly gotta take a dump. Do you ever feel like that, Repo?
Onlookers laughed.
“No,” Repo said.
“If you’d like, Repo, I’ll write down step-by-step instructions for fuckin’ yourself in the ass?”
“Nope,” Repo said. “My ass is strictly a one-way street.”
“I find that hard to believe. Surely you’ve keystered somethin’ or had a thermometer shoved in it when you were a kid?” Xena said with conviction.
“To the best of my knowledge, no! Repo said.
“No dildos?
“No, definitely not. But I’ll lend you my toothbrush holder if you wanna make yourself another big one.”
“What happened to your dildo?” I asked.
“After a month of pure pleasure, there were some random cell searches, and the cops found it.”
“Did you get a ticket for having a sex toy?” I asked.
“No, but the guards freaked out. They had no idea how to write it up as a ticket. There’s no mention of dildos in DOC policy. A sergeant put my name on it, and displayed it in his office window. That fuelled me and made me more exhilarated. I was really freaky back then. It was in his window at SMU1 for over a year."
What other kinky items have you made? I asked.
“Handcuffs, whips, leather G-strings, and a beaded G-string, and makeup,” Xena said.
“Which was the kinkiest?”
“The beaded G-string.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it someday.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
03 March 06
Question Time
Karen in Essex asked whether Slingblade was in Vietnam on business or pleasure.
Slingblade was in Vietnam as a footsoldier – expendable, cannon fodder. He did well surviving there for almost two years. I suspect he has PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
He came to my cell today begging for peanut butter, wearing no top or socks. His fist twitching, his face giggling, he presented a bizarre and tragic figure.
Pippa in the Netherlands asked how many people I write to regularly, if I keep my letters, and how many I have accumulated.
I write regularly to dozens of people, and irregularly to hundreds. I keep all letters. They are shipped to England and remain uncounted.
Lisa in Phoenix asked about my goals for 2006.
To read 200 books (I read 52 in the first quarter). To develop my writing skills. To advance my yoga ability. To do some college correspondence classes. To gain a better understanding of myself. To remain an anal virgin.
Gail asked for my favourite yoga positions.
My favourite is Scorpion Pose, which I hold for a minute. Now that I can do the Lotus Pose in Headstand, I can almost do Upright Cock. Ganda Bherundasana seems impossible, so I am working on some easier variations to get there. Developing these extreme poses is what I enjoy most when doing asanas.
Zelda asked if Xena’s coffee enemas were with or without cream.
Xena answered, “I have no access to cream, but I’d like to give it a try.”
Clancy asked about my favourite comedies.
Growing up, I enjoyed The Young Ones, Spitting Image and anything Monty Pythonesque. My need for humour is now satisfied via books, especially those by Tom Wolfe and Cervantes, and I've been enjoying the short stories of Charles D’Ambrosio, T. Coraghessan Boyle and Thom Jones.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2004-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Question Time
Karen in Essex asked whether Slingblade was in Vietnam on business or pleasure.
Slingblade was in Vietnam as a footsoldier – expendable, cannon fodder. He did well surviving there for almost two years. I suspect he has PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
He came to my cell today begging for peanut butter, wearing no top or socks. His fist twitching, his face giggling, he presented a bizarre and tragic figure.
Pippa in the Netherlands asked how many people I write to regularly, if I keep my letters, and how many I have accumulated.
I write regularly to dozens of people, and irregularly to hundreds. I keep all letters. They are shipped to England and remain uncounted.
Lisa in Phoenix asked about my goals for 2006.
To read 200 books (I read 52 in the first quarter). To develop my writing skills. To advance my yoga ability. To do some college correspondence classes. To gain a better understanding of myself. To remain an anal virgin.
Gail asked for my favourite yoga positions.
My favourite is Scorpion Pose, which I hold for a minute. Now that I can do the Lotus Pose in Headstand, I can almost do Upright Cock. Ganda Bherundasana seems impossible, so I am working on some easier variations to get there. Developing these extreme poses is what I enjoy most when doing asanas.
Zelda asked if Xena’s coffee enemas were with or without cream.
Xena answered, “I have no access to cream, but I’d like to give it a try.”
Clancy asked about my favourite comedies.
Growing up, I enjoyed The Young Ones, Spitting Image and anything Monty Pythonesque. My need for humour is now satisfied via books, especially those by Tom Wolfe and Cervantes, and I've been enjoying the short stories of Charles D’Ambrosio, T. Coraghessan Boyle and Thom Jones.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2004-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
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