Good morning

Good morning various slaves, subs, Doms, Dommes (dom de dom dom dom) and assorted other hooligans!It is now a balmy 8:06 am. The air conditioner is still off, as it was since late evening, yesterday. Or, was it early night? How come no one ever says 'early night' except in the context of making an early night of it? No one ever says 'It was early night, around 9:30 pm I'm guessing, for evening was already past.' Never! Well, remind me, and I'll put that, or something like it, in a story. Why should 'evening' get all the fun of sprawling itself around the later hours of the day and crowd proper night out?Anyway, the air conditioner is still off, but, it is starting to feel like a bad idea. I feel like a cookie in a low temperatured oven. The edges will get all hard and burnt, crispy even, whilst the middle stays white, doughy, and cold. Last night, I met someone who threw off my equilibrium. I don't know why. Well, I know why I met him. He wrote to me. I don't know why it affected me so; I just know it did. Sometimes you just meet people and there's some instant connection, or desire. Sometimes it is that you would instantly desire to connect your boot to their face, even though they have not done anything wrong, yet, and even though you seldom kick people and never in the face. Then, later, you find out they like to skin puppies, molest children, accost nuns at cross walks, or are otherwise just big, fat, stupid jerks that even other big, fat, stupid jerks find annoying and disgusting due to the sheer overkill involved in their jerkiness. Sometimes, you just want to take the person home and kiss them repeatedly, in between far too much talking, and sending them to the kitchen to fetch tea. This is more like the latter, and nothing like the former.  Well, I suppose my boot might just get near his face one day, if I keep feeling this way, but ... kicking? No. If we had met in 'real time', as they say - because, apparently, they can type 72 wpm but only in fake minutes - I would suspect him of being a pot smoker, and that this is my allergic reaction kicking in. For, up to a certain point, pot smoke makes me more attracted to a person. Then, it makes me feel homicidal, so, don't try guessing the point. It will not help you!Or, I would suspect him of having rubbed himself all over with garlic. Same effect, except that garlic does not give me headaches and make me depressed or want to hurt other people. It just makes me happy, and, apparently, smell funny.But, no, for we were nowhere near each other and whatever attraction there was was based on ... ????If I had seen his photo, first, I would suspect me of being shallow. This is because he has an adorable face. Handsome but a little goofy, reminiscent of Jeff Goldblum, who is tall, dark, and goofy looking in a way that is detrimentally sexy. But, I did not see his photo first, so, I was attracted to something else, entirely.There I was, tossing and turning all night, not solely because of him, but, believe you me, he did not help at all. For, as the man said (the very thin man)  'New words, a love so strong it tears their hearts to sleep, through the fleeting hours of morning'No, it's not love. We've never even had a proper chat, yet. But, where does love start, exactly? It is being charmed, to be sure, and maybe it is the place at which love begins. Or, maybe it is the place wherein the seed of love is planted, right before being pissed on, kicked about, scorched into oblivion by the sun, and blown away by the winds of change. I don't know!I do know that I stayed awake, tossing and turning, wondering things. How would he take what I said about ....? Does he think ....?  Would he like ....?  Where can I get a cage that ...?As the same man also said 'Love is careless in its choosing, sweeping over cross and baby  Love descends on those defenseless, idiot love would spark the fusion.'Unfortunately, there are many interpretations of what the man said, in fact; but, all the same, the beginning and middle are solid. Love just meanders about, throwing itself on people, without so much as a 'By your leave, Madame.' and all of a sudden, without quite knowing why, you've turned into a sleep deprived idiot, who is rambling about a stranger, to other strangers, whilst typing at a speed of 69 wpfm (words per fake minutes).My equilibrium is shot. I know if this turns out to be less than a good idea, for us to know each other, I will be hurt. It will not be tragic, if that happens, but, it will be painful. And, all this, over so few words .. The thing is, you meet some people and it's like the mental equivalent of that sound, that lets you know the amp is on and near the microphone. You can feel there is this connection and it is just on, and on it stays, until someone does something stupid.I hope it has good reason to just stay on, then.