24 Janusry 2025/Jm muse chron

Today I get a message from Josef asking me if I could remember to pack up some things he forgot to bring 

That is more than just one message; there are several in just that humble seemingly innocent request. 

I see it come up but I walk across the room. I think again of Manhattan —how long has it been …. 

The penthouse renovations would have been completed six months ago. Ilya has her hands full with three kids now. But all the carpentry and some interior details took the longest to complete. Historians had to be consulted to match colors and fixtures with the era 

So…. with the shadow Interpol director pretending to retire and wasn’t it Jörn who claimed he was his cover? Which poker face is not bluffing? They play off each other don’t they ….the sun on the longhouse from the dream ….i remember now.  The Folkmoot ….

It is usually only the boat and the hut from those dreams but ….there was the voyage and the stop at the ….island 

Everything though feels different now in such a way that lifts me and bathes everything in a brighter light…. I’ve been sketching again, and painted twelve hours straight on the mural …. I am me again or is it that I feel accepted fully for me? What peace this allows. Such flow of inspiration is renewed

e.d.& film noir/JMmuse/Thoughts before sleep

 

My thoughts are so wild after. It is hard to sleep. How does Jörn always immediately pass out after? —when I wish for just a little more of closeness after. It leaves me empty sometimes like tonight. Perhaps it was how much he stole out of me. I find …. I feel sort of used and it makes me sad. 

So I think afterwards as I listen to the sounds of him sleeping beside me. So strange to sleep beside someone again. After so long. I didn’t think I could again. But it was harder to stay awake the first night back with him. It’s always been so easy with him. I fit into the crook of his shoulder and his warm scent fills my dreams —and keeps the nightmares away I have found. There was only one other man I slept well with but …. he is long behind now, I suppose, as it is best.

Actions speak louder than words and those memories with him have a scar…. I do not want more of those. As he ultimately 

never made the time for me in his life

And then there was Jörn who began a new chapter in my life—is it because whatever how it occurred here was someone who finally noticed I existed 

That I exist. To feel at last significant is a new awareness. A new realization. So I suppose at last I am fulfilled and this is new; I must adjust—dare I say happy? Yes. I am 

 we begin to prepare for return to Manhattan I have started to realize

I am coming out of a thaw —Jörn has helped, but also time here in the mountains has healed me 

I begin to feel I am preparing to return back to ….the world ?

Perhaps soon—not yet…. I am liking these quiet times alone with Jörn. Our private covent just me and him —nobody else around ….for now 

I get sleepy now ….

Audio_01_24_2025_00_04_53.mp3



Noir of King’s princess’swho lie back and think of England

my master ….he holds me down and looks into my eyes,

“when was the last time you said you lost track of time?” but he says this as he kisses my neck and I am still bound 

“I never said.”

“The last time you heard of something —an act someone claimed you did ….”

He stops here 

I hold my breath 

I go within but —no I am caught….into his ….weird connection to me —his power

it pulls me. it…. is some invisible golden rope which ties my deepest self to him and with it —and with this; ignites some unknown primal sexual trigger within which —by now I should know how ….to fight 

“It was a long time ago. I was at a party in New Jersey ….” how does he disarm me so that ….?

“Tell me,” he says

leaning over me and holding me down as he bites my neck,

“I will look after you….” like a vampire holding me on the edge, he bites sadidtically into my neck so that I am forced to whimper,”” he says,”tell me—I own you, duva.”

“I behaved badly at a party thrown by my Portuguese friend’s friend ….we studied together at the Academy of Dramatic Arts ….one night after on 42nd street …. Amtrak to New Jersey …. .she snd her friend got me drunk snd then apparently ….i transformed into this wild personality who was smoking cigarettes!!! And throwing back double scotches!!!! —cracking jokes—!!! and I said things I should not have ….but I don’t remember —to this day—any of it…. !!!!” I don’t even look at him; it still is a horror to think…. but why do I tell him? And with every word of my confession …. I feel …. that weird power like a vibe pounding into me …. his energy does …. things to me—his very scent even. Still I only say, “So…. That was the day I decided I wanted to find out about regressive therapy because …. before thst …there were …. things ….”

“Hush,” he says, “close your eyes ….That’s enough for now….” 

and then yes …. I do forget because he turns me and ….i cannot say here 

and later ….

And as he holds me down ….

I am caught with wrists bound and stare up at him —as I think ….he has been my beacon of light …. through it all …. I’d never have gotten through it all —the fbi man, sunny—he listened to me through all the horror…. if not for him …. I’d not be here now I know …. And this I think as I feel….. his mouth is warm on me …. 

And he says things …. to me no one ever has ever said—

as his mouth kisses me there—nobody does it like him and no, not just his mouth; it is the promise of this for more various destinations which he spells with every syllable of his artful tongue. 

No. Nobody does this like the man with the vampire eyes

“I own you,” he says and drapes his body across me like a giant stallion and fucks me like a Viking 

Of dungeons and bats noir cell

“Is that a new tie?” I say to him and walk over 

It is of shades of Nordic sea blues like a watercolor. Like his eyes. Like his kryptonite eyes that own me. I reach to touch it. The silk is like butter to touch….

in a strange sudden instant from his neck —like a flash of light 

he shocks me 

    he has pulled me into his tie like a trap and I 

am bound 

And looking at me,

“I think you actually do crave attention ….” he says 

    he looks at me as I am straight from the shower and —the towel all warm at my feet with my wrists caught in silk 

Suddenly and again I am reminded of dungeons and bats when 

He says as he looks at my body up and down with approval then— he mostly carries me but with a ….drag,

“why waste that beautiful body when,” and here he pauses because it is just that savage look that obliterates civilized thought  “—I can do this ….?”

the inflection of motion considerably spellbinding 

plus à dire plus tard

Scientific reasoning revisited

It is necessary to note from my scientific findings ….and following the footnotes of Bertrand Russell 

it is all important 

Every outrage

Every sacrifice

Scream it

Sing it

Celebrate it

Don’t care what the status quo is droning in threats and advertising hypnosis 

What is REAL?

are you real, 

are you really alive 

    what you feel and every moment —whatever anyone else may say ….this is your Truth not theirs 

Record it. Tell it. Preserve it. Document it. 

Be 

if you still can 

More ….from the walls that whispers

I say to him,

“you know, when you have a punisher— you know more about them than they do about you…. when he stood there—I mean….with the Bally belt…. the rage —you can sense it even befire it is there. You know it is coming. You know thst it is better barefoot to run—the prick of fear in the sweat gland —the warning to run!

“….you know when it it coming. You know the signs as it is building. It is present in the walls. As they shake. When he walks. It is present in his tone between the walls. It is ….present in my abdomen …. the sick feeling—the taste of fear….

“But you know him…. You study him. You watch. You stay up all night. You listen for everything. Every grunt. Every tv show choice ….every fake friendly phone call he makes ….the creek of the stair ….the footsteps …. 

“you ….are. Ready!” and even now hold my breath 

wait ….the tink of his tobacco pipe hitting the ashtray ….calling the dog to his side ….

and the fear ….tastes like what you vomit up medicine with the metal shavings from your last tooth filling but with acid not crunch 

“You know your punisher and I saw him as weak —does that surprise, Jörn? I was so beyond caring of self that to test it I set off his rage by tendering the right button. Why? Was I just a masochist ….? well—a martyr —I did it to stop him hurting her—I let it be me instead ….the actual scapegoat 

“I had a power over him ….but I never enjoyed it.”