Brainstorming vomit crusade

This blog is going to piss me off. This is me raw, unedited and under stress. I do write straight stream-of-consciousness. That means I do not finish stories. I get lost in tangents. I didn't plan this as a blog. I must say dave is basically my boyfriend. I even mention so many other men I deeply care about. Dave is different. Our schedules keep us in contact. A troll declared my friends 'muppets.' I kind of like it. Wolfrider knows what a dear friend he has become. My teddybear and i have a huge bond. I would date all three of them if distance wasn't an issue. Dave is not territorial. He knows I love other men. He fears to be just a muppet. I assure you the amount of time we talk and the secrets we share make him my boyfriend. I fell in love on a porn site. That doesn't mean anything I say to a man is not truthful. I am a sexual creature who makes her own decisions. A lot of people on this site are married. Sex chats happen and flirting is natural. Having a long distance boyfriend that I can't touch is a life factor. My urge to build other strong sexual friendships with men is still strong. This is a porn site and I want to play.

I will work through this medicine situation and get back to writing sex stories. Tonight I have no medicine to sleep. Writing is better than laying in bed. This started as a pm to dave. I couldn't quit writing. It is an addiction. I am deep in thought. I am making a plan. If you want erotica come back in one week or less. I promise a sex frenzy. I will tell my own sex stories. I will write fiction. I talked today with my best friend jaime about turning our high school into a sitcom. She confessed a secret dream to write a show. I have been thinking about writing plays, books and good tv for a lifetime.

I have to get my medicine situated. I have to brainstorm. What I want to do will piss off a whole town. It will be based on so many real people old friends may burn my house down. We talked for hours about our stories. I am addicted to my character halina. I want to move in and out of time frames. I want to embellish events. It will be based on my life. It will be based on jaime's life. It will tell the story of our generation. We got away with shenanigans. It will involve a fabricated element. My character will have a camcorder addiction. If I had to sum it up in a few sentences I would tell you to imagine four or five girls chain smoking in the dressing room at school. We were all actresses. We didn't do it but it is realistic. If we had an addiction to spontaneously telling about our crazy adventures on camera it would make sense.

What that gives me a chance to write is a set of monologues that make you want to piss, cry, fuck or hit. My blog will launch into a writing exercise. It will be a huge projectile vomit spray of ideas and scenes. With my style of writing my friend jaime must edit the pieces. I couldn't do it without her diligent drive to fix my flaws. Some of my stories will suck. Some of them will be hilarious play style dialogue. It will be brainstorming. I want to mimic stephen king's ability to quickly hit you with inner secrets belonging to minor characters.

One aspect we agree on is the need for a narrator. Our inspiration is the wonder years for her. A big part of my life was the play 'our town.' I hate the play. The top senior actress got to pick her last role. One of my friends turned enemies wanted to be emily in 'our town.' It's a whole different blog to describe kicking her ass at auditions. My teacher asked me if i could dye my hair blonde and drop enough weight to shrink my tits. I had to pass for a little girl with tits bigger than my head. I hated the role. I also wanted to beat my rival. I took on the challenge. It was dangerous. I wouldn't eat anything but protein. I gorged on enough chicken to feed half of china. I dropped every spare pound on my body. I got my tits in a D cup. I wore a minimizer designed to shrink them like an ace bandage. My hair was black. I went to the salon and told them blonde. I showed up at school with orange hair. It was fucking sexy.

The best part of that play was the narrator. This will be the story of 'our town.' Our narrator will be like betty white. Sometimes my blog will be a narrator. It will be flashbacks. It will be fast forward. Elements will seem like a documentary. We want it to move fast. So many secrets will come flying out. When you read my tangent letter to dave you will understand. It has been a huge day for me. I know how I'm going to get started. The goal since I quit nursing school is to make it as an artist/writer. If I want to pull it off I have to start working. The boy who said 'if only you were real,' has no clue how raw and honest I am. He is probably pissed I don't answer pm's. I had to get a job. I can't work a day job.

Money is a huge issue. Dave is my boyfriend but I don't want a sugar daddy. My whole life has revolved around supporting myself. When my mom became a nurse she raised me to always make enough money to do as I please. I was raised that any man could walk out and leave you with nothing. Getting a sugar daddy would be easy. I am real. Now it is time to post my brainstorming letter to my boyfriend. He is used to my tangents. He is shocked by a lot of things I try to explain. I think he loves me for shock value. My letter does weave back and forth. I did not post his responses and some other secrets we share. If I stop mid-story it is to reply to his comment. My brain is puking out possibilities. I will soon get my plan in motion. What I offer is a daily dose of something. If I was fake there would never be so much information flooding my page. I would have a vibrator in my pussy doing sessions with strangers. I would never have the time to puke up a dose of rapid brainstorming.

This letter is for good friends to find out my regurgitated scheme and provide feedback. I realized when I started the letter I need anyone who cares to offer suggestions. Once I figure out each step the fun begins. That is what I offer. You never know what to expect. I had a man tell me he read chapter 4 of 'little s*s' because it was on a page for the most popular sex stories of the week. As a bi-polar pussy bitch I truly cried. I felt like I had an academy award. He went back and read old chapters. He said he stumbled into the best blog on xhamster. In my letter i discuss all the things I would like to do to that man. My dearest muppets, I just started playing this game.

My blog weaves in and out sex. As a real chick who doesn't cam for money I can talk about issues few people can handle. I plan to sell art. I am also selling this blog. I want to stay on the top rated list. That means such a devotion to erotica. This is also telling my life story. It will be watching a girl write a sitcom. It will be feeling triumphant if I pull it off. It will be contributing with feedback. Bri, caught on that reading my comments and replies is damn good entertainment. That is one thing I offer. Any man can say a few words about what I discuss and get slammed with a paragraph of information. I guess it is time to unleash my plan so you understand. I have to play catch-up to make it happen. When I swing in to action and post each blog I will post it the next day on wordpress with comments and replies. I erase so many dick pics when I update my wordpress with blogs. Men have asked me to blog about them. I will do it. On wordpress your comment is documented and you become a character. When you share your story because it matches mine it enters my wordpress and followers can watch our dialogue.

It will take me time to add all my material so far. You become a part of the blog by what you say. People want me to write with them a lot. It is easy. Start a conversation on a recent blog still listed on my page. I plan to launch my art career. My plan is to have that acceptable blog on wordpress offered like a lollipop to a c***d when you go to the bank. If you just entered my world to go to my page forces you to see twelve works of art. My campaign will sell the art and let anyone who wants to meet me walk into my kitchen while I cook. Brainstorming is boring. When I do this I will offer a story that evolves with your daily cup of coffee.

I need my daily overdose of creativity. I am a bulimic word whore spilling out secrets. You won't know what is real versus what is fiction unless you ask. Many men who read 'little s*s' assumed it was my true story. I have said before this blog is nothing more than an eight year old girl starting each entry 'dear diary.' I am purging out stories. Doing it on a public forum is like masturbating and flogging myself for sins. It is me in a confessional booth. When I start as an artist my writing will change. I talked about it with jaime. It has to be embellished. People who find it must figure out the truth behind the fiction or ask me. If you wanted to write about your small town wouldn't you push it. I know what adventures we could've had in that auditorium. I know the adventures we did have. People will recognize their character and be shocked by fabricated behavior if it becomes popular. A part of this journey into writing was a lack of support by old friends. My characters will be real. I will show us all breaking rules we followed.

I can't pull off a fake name a d make it real. I can change it. One thing makes it easy to track. People will start reading my blog knowing I am describing a real town. I can't escape the strawberry aspect. This blog will be posted for anyone to stumble across. I will always talk about being the winter strawberry capital of the world. I will talk about being mid-way between tampa and orlando. If my blog gets good you can easily research my town. As a writer/artist telling town secrets will be a fucked up blend of fact and fiction. I write good erotica. My characters will fuck like bunnies.

My drama teacher is going to kill me. When we started the discussion that aspect was golden. We want to barely change his name. He was middle-aged, fat and balding. He would zone out and tweak his nipples uncontrollably. His shirt would raise up and his ass crack was on display at all times. He had such huge sweaty armpit stains. He was the uncle of my dreams. To understand him you had to know he got a DUI after dinner at our local pizzeria. He had his license suspended. He woke up at the butt crack of dawn and rode his bike across town to get to our school before students. We did have his keys. It was a master key that unlocked all doors. There really was a girl using the key to break in the auditorium and sleep on the prop room couch. Now I am going to take that girl's story and attach it to a close friend. When I start writing for entertainment I will aim for shock value. I don't plan writing. Each adventure is unpredicted. I will do little to no cathartic real blogs because they don't get read. What this site wants is a thousand variations of 'halina' from 'little s*s.' When I write fiction I become that character. I see events based on real places and people. I will be honest it is fact and fiction.

I will be vague if you quiz me. I will swear up and down some fabrications are real. I will lie for the first time in a long time. Anais nin kept a box in her purse to jot down lies she told. I wrote a damn good blog my friend bill even exclaimed 'four men read this?.' The troll mocked my lack of readers. It was too damn long. It was too damn emotional. It will be here and on wordpress if you want the truth. These blogs are different. I am brainstorming for the good friends I have. Dave, wolfrider and my motley muppets have no clue that I am adapting due to failure. They need to know I have entered a pact with my best friend to produce a sitcom about our town. What I do best is hand her a plot, describe it in detail and pump out material. I have worried about my future and I have a plan in motion.

I wrote my best male friend a heartwrenching 'loser face, I won't have my medicine. I may go insane. I may get suicidal. I may never anally **** you with a letter again. Our skype chats could end. Watching tv together with good banter drinking beer or smoking pot may be a thing of the past. I love you like a brother. This could be goodbye note' I was thinking much clearer and I had slept. I write some good fucking letters. His response was just what I needed. He didn't apologize for my situation. He didn't act terrified. He wrote 'wow, the way you write means you should write a novel and get rich. I will still love you if you go insane. You should use kickstarter for money. Some dudes earned sixty grand for potato salad! I don't know what else to say. I am not as verbose as you.' I don't know if I can beat insanity, panic and depression. He is so much of my character jason. His advise to write fiction that reads like a blog makes sense. His point is to switch into fiction and make some fucking money. I will always have real current brainstorming blogs. If I fall in the air vent again and slash open my pussy I will write about it as myself. Yet that long blog being such a flop changed me.

I keep giving my final will and testament before I enter fiction. My next blog which is a wild stream of mixed tangents. I discuss kickstarter plans. I won't give out access to a porn site blog in my campaign. I will go on a safe super google happy place with the blogs I write here. I sell sex mostly to men. That will be amplified. I will begin a book. Fact and fiction will combine. I am creating a character. halina grows up to be linda marris. She is struggling to make it with writing and art because she is too damn crazy to work. Going back and forth in time is easy for me. Telling people my victories and losses is still a part of the book. That blue balling cocktease became the woman brainstorming how to not end up a panhandling whore. She tells her story in a daily dose that entertains. Being on this site gives you a chance to see me as a teen. It also gives you a chance to get involved.

I know a following on wordpress is hard to build. You so rarely get feedback it feels pointless. Each blog will have forty eight hours to build up comments and replies. I have posted one third of this blog. If your avatar isn't a cock, porn or vulgar it stays. What my boyfriend has written beside his hamster avatar enters an archive that I will post and promote on kickstarter. What people think about a story is recorded. Some of my best work involves comment replies. I will be honest that my primary forum is a porn site and the men who follow me were given the nickname muppet by a troll. What I am selling is a sexy, crazy and poor artist who gives followers a daily dose her diary. On kickstarter i will be honest about my goal to have my addiction to writing earn money.

My friend brent is right. He is such a penny pinching economist. He had to be anally ****d by a goodbye letter to know my worth. I know him so well. He can pull money out of situations. His parents were loaded running laundromats. If he sees talent and shows me how to make money miracles happen. He was so overwhelmed when I showed him two of my prints. I told him to pick one. I will always love him for that night. He never saw my work. I had two black and white collages printed on paper. He gave me a full on critique of meaning, style and technique. It is fun to sell art in person. You can point out a picture and ask about it. The pictures now on profile look good. In person each quote can be read. They are hilarious. One of my favorite pics is a decorative button from the sixties that says 'apple pie makes you sterile.'

With brent I could point out those elements and make him giggle. It hit me he needed both collages. He couldn't choose. He analyzed my work like the brilliant man he has always been. I numbered them 0, wrote a message and signed my former autograph. I offered many old friends a paper zero. I get generous. I had a hundred bucks to blow for ten good friends to get something special from me. Only my college prints will be signed and numbered. When I talked to my mentor he said not to fuck with numbers. He said to fling them everywhere with no limitations. Before I could do that a few good people needed a zero. I got lackluster enthusiasm.

Brent is the only person who got a paper zero. We talked about my chances for success. We talked about limited editions and fine art. You talk to me different about my potential when one of those pieces is around 20x24 inches big and printed in your living room. Few people have had that chance. My mentor is damn good. I don't know how he turns a postcard into something that big with clear resolution. One time when we were hanging out he told me he considered those two prints his future retirement. I told him that night not to disrespect the paper zero with thumbtacks. My mom raised me to have a framing fetish. Being a young artist you can dream big. We agree my work is unique. I needed assurance from people like him. The two most important works of art are intricately framed in my bedroom. They are one of a kind pieces so personal you can't imagine. One is my self-portrait and one is pretty miss. If a collector fixates on me and craves my numbered pieces brent has what they want. For the rest of my life I will correlate brent with money and potato salad.

He is right about the novel. I write in daily doses. This is one of my last blogs that is real. This is not for entertainment. I am regurgitating information in a unedited confession. When i am ready to launch things change. After I work out the plot i am only here to entertain and communicate. My blogs will be short. You will feel like you had a dose of the national enquirer. My sex life has been lame. After this I will hit you with an innocent get your dick hard and thinking about me blog. I will be that teenager who doesn't get you off but you need to touch and kiss her at all times. As I assume a new identity I can make up encounters that didn't happen. I went a bit nuts in college. I went asexual and didn't date. I partied with fat laura from church. Jaime who is my partner in crime was our roommate. A boy i loved and lost was another roommate. We got nicknamed the house of syn. Stories from the house of sin don't need much embellishment. You will love tales from those years. Our d**g stories are epic.

I get picked on for writing too damn much. It was that house. we found a forum called livejournal. It was like meeting thirty other people that write a secret diary. I mostly exchanged letters with bad boys in the UK. You decorated your page slightly. I had time periods writing on a page that showed pics of l****a, dr strangelove and rosemary's baby. I was rotten. It's another blog. Me and fat laura taught ourselves how to pick mushrooms. We did research and went to the family land. We did it so much my grandma thought we were legitimately walking the pasture for exercise. If you are fat she won't stop you from the trek. My cousins declared us lesbians. They assumed we were out fucking on the family land. No one thought about mushrooms.

Tales of halina in college involve some d**g use. I would trip balls nearly every day. i don't know how I got addicted to writing when I was tripping. I can't access it anymore. I have had some good d**g experiences. Mushrooms can hit you with euphoric moments. If I wasn't tripping I wrote about those feelings. The happiest I've ever been was with laura in the car driving through downtown. I had an apple fetish. I didn't eat much but I was religious about a daily apple. I peaked at the pivotal moment of happiness. It was biting my apple and seeing my town. Laura rarely tripped. She wanted to kill me. I was trying to say 'I'm just better than you at only being happy when I'm tripping. I wish it was on film. I looked at her in an orgasmic glow and said 'I'm just better than you.' I realized how it sounded and giggled. Then I tried to finish the sentence. We drove down a whole street with me holding an apple telling her 'I'm just better than you,' cracking up and repeating it. I never lived it down. All three of us had cocky moments and busted out with 'i'm just better than you.' I could come home and write my UK boys a letter about my new mantra. Brent doesn't know I've been making potato salad a long time.

Now what happened in the house of syn goes fictional. Some of the boys I blue balled were sexual adventures in college. In a small town characters bounce back. Hayden was our roommate. Our love story is a whole blog. He said I had ten one night stands. I didn't date. I was ice cold about the issue. He had a girlfriend. I was in love with him. I had low confidence. In nursing school I found out he was in love with me. I barely remember hooking up with that many dudes. Then I have flashbacks and remember a new guy. The stories will be embellished. I won't point it out. Most people will catch me once I start playing. They won't read back this far. I will come out swinging as a character. I will finish little s*s. I will keep the character and evolve. I will remove the brother aspect and give her a clean slate. I can't just ramble like this brainstorming marathon. I must be short, graphic and sexual. The long blog was a lesson. This wouldn't matter if brent didn't mention kickstarter and potato salad. Now I have to edit my tangent letter. Forgive shitty grammar. I haven't slept in a long time. I have no medicine. I discuss the issue in dave's letter. Mostly I talk about kickstarter.