Drinking coffee out of a Tom of Finland mug gifted to me a few years back for the holiday. It's blue-gray on the inside. The perfect size. I have to remember not to use it when working remotely and on video. Sometimes I forget, and have to wrap my both hands around the entire mug as I sip as if I am freezing to death in a snow storm in order to obscure the uniforms, bare chests and hard cocks straining against their pants of many stripes (sailor/leather/denim).
I watched Do I Have to Take Care of Everything? (2011), a Finnish short by director Selma Vilhunen the other day. I don't have much to say about it (it's six minutes long and quite hetero) other than I liked the main character's dress. It showed the "socially acceptable amount of cleavage" that costume designers tend to pick to denote a moral disposition or character trait. On my end: I just like restraint. The color of the dress was a muted red. Think: A blue-red thick strip of fabric that has been in the sun for too long and has faded. Red (particularly a blue-red) makes my blood pulse faster through my veins and, more than likely, that can explain the color of many hidden accessories perfectly placed in the most private drawer of my dresser.
On red:
There is something to be said about art of leading a bull directly into a brick wall. My body knows/knew not to fuck a person who whines about needing to fuck pussy in a particular way straight-out-the-gates. This breed of bull has only surfaced once in my life: The artlessness of it alerted me, and I successfully managed to dodge the bullet (plunging horns?) of an immeasurable and petulant bore.
k.
[Image credit: Giovanni Calia]
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