Bound by fear…..
The source of tears
Through the years

Yet you no longer hear…..

Breathless cries
Still wonder why

Fight the urge
purge the scourge

On the verge
Yet……
You submerge

~Alice King~2011~

For what it’s worth my short description of her… Short, Kinky, Unabashed, Creative, Sexy, Playful,  Daring, Exhibitionist and Uninhibited.

I left out Bizarre, Twisted, and Fucked up which I assumed you would assume was a given since she’s friends with me.

-Mal

“Lock up your Daughters, Lock up your wife, lock up your back door you’d better run for your life.”  AC/DC

Have you ever seen a well dressed man walking through an office building and somehow sensed a sinister intent?  Have you ever been sitting in the lobby of a Four Seasons and a guy in jeans and black boots who just didn’t quite fit in with the sea of khaki wearing asses and stupid golf pants as he slipped almost silently through the lobby accompanied by a few women of questionable moral fiber before the trio disappeared into the night seemingly like a ghost?  Have you ever looked at the fucker in the black sedan next to you and thought…I’m certain that is one evil bastard?  If so you’ve probably seen me. If not soon enough you may get your chance.

Yesterday morning as I stood in the entrance to my house fondling the chesty blonde’s tits and lamenting how I did not want to par take in a mad dash to an event and race back that evening for one of Lilly’s school things.  I really just wanted to stay home, make a few calls and more or less just fuck my wife and drink coffee.  That however was not in the cards as a day long event.  Soon enough I’d find myself racing down the interstate arguing with the world and trying to solve things without trying to boil the ocean…which is exactly what I do professionally speaking.  More or less I’m an empty suit, a mouth piece, a mediator, a pimp and a whore all wrapped up into one with the compassion of a dictator and the anger management issues of the most petulant rock star.

It’s not like me to have such anxiety about being gone let alone only for 9 hours but the blonde summed it up well later that night after I finished watching her sexy ass shake in a reverse cow girl there is no way you can fuck me hard enough tonight kind of romp.  Some where between resting and panting she uttered “the only way you know how to live is like a rock star so make the most of the excess”  and that’s when it hit me I’m now treating my hectic schedule not as a series of tedious obligations but as a tour filled with debauchery, countless women, liquor (it won’t take much since I’ve all but quit drinking), total exhaustion, lack of sleep  and completely fuel by fucking mammoth cups of coffee and a few select drugs (like Advil and Zyrtec).

In case you suspect I might be schmoozing near at country club or in a local public dungeon here is my travel schedule as of the moment from this coming Monday through the end of July.

All Cities are for one night unless noted

Dallas, St. Louis (STL), San Antonio (2 Nights), Pittsburgh (for 3 nights), Cincinnati, Chicago, STL, Dallas, STL (2 nights), Vegas ( 4 Nights), STL (4 nights), NYC or Denver, STL, Bermuda (3 nights), STL, Boston, NY, Rolla (don’t ask but it’s not for work),  STL, San Fran, Monterey(2 nights), LA, NYC, STL, K.C., Columbia (not for work), STL, DC Metro , Raleigh, Atlanta, Miami, STL (2 nights), Columbus, Pittsburgh (4^th of July Weekend numbers of days tbd, bondage bunnies will definitely be involved),  An actual unbooked week that I suspect will fill up, Indianapolis, NYC (2 nights) , Dallas, Austin, STL (allegedly 4 nights), Silicon Valley (2 nights), Chicago (2-nights), Which takes us out to the end of July after that who the fuck knows for two weeks so other than that somewhere in Canada in mid August.

And there you have it the Malflic Summer of Sin and Insanity Tour 2011…Sure the dates will ebb and flow a bit, in a few of the cities you’ll find me slumming in nice steak places, or the latest trendy eatery, but in other’s you’ll find me in a dive bar and on one or two occasions when not tempting the local nice church going folks into unspeakable sin and vice you can find me being a minor demon at all kinds of local events and outings.   In one case if you leave the beaten path and venture beyond the suburbs you may just find a road weary man in tattered jeans and very old boots playing to a smoke filled room conjuring up a few old demons just for the hell of it.

I was considering having t shirts printed up to share with my companions and fellow hell raisers

Postlude…I wrote this piece this morning, before lunch two more stops got added and the Chesty Blonde Claimed a week in early August but rather than rework the damn thing I’ll leave you with these thoughts.  1) as lovely as these pics are I am totally distracted by a few pics I saw elsewhere  2) I need to start taking and using more of my own pics (and planning blogs ahead of time)

Not much to say just a funny little 60 second bit a friend sent me.

What can I say maybe it all started for me in a moment of clarity.  Maybe it happen when I quit drinking, the room stopped spinning, and there wasn’t the sound or sights of all my temptations assaulting my mind, body, and libido.  Perhaps that was the moment the world got a little clearer.   I’m sure somewhere the loss of my relationship with my favorite sexy little brunette allowed me to focus  more on my primary relationship with the chesty blonde led me this way as well.

Life sometimes gets in the way but lately with all the running around and extra work I’ve not had time to pursue my usual diversions at first I missed them but after al while my need started to fade. After all greed had been my first lust for even longer than anything else.  Still other things have taken its place like worries about corporate farming, disasters political unrest, and the national debt.   These are the things that keep me awake at night.

I look at the people who have passed in and out of my life in the past two decades. Did any of it really matter to them or are we all just dirty little chapters in each other’s lives.  Giving in to primal urges and perverse acts to fill empty parts of our unfed souls is merely a symptom of a rather hollow meaningless existence.  I started to wonder if there really isn’t something more.

It’s taken me months to get to this point but I’ve decided to walk the path that so many others walk by walking away from a life style I‘ve enjoyed for so long is never easy but there seems to be so many more things I could put my time, talent and treasure towards to benefit others.   Did you happen to notice the date?   The odds of me becoming a church going conservative are probably equal to the pope hosting Charlie Sheen and 5000 porn girls for a papal orgy in St Peter’s square.

Happy April Fools.  On a happier note I dyed rope today, talked to my favorite sexy little brunette and my Egyptian Princess. Life is good and have a great weekend.

Malflic
April 2010
Drop d tuning

Well something isn’t quite right
she can sleep at night, can’t close her eyes
And the drugs no longer work
And the demon he smirks, At what’s become of her life
Just blinded by greed
(The) more we have, more we need, it’s what we become
And the acts grow deranged,
Perverted, insane, to a few more than some
But then we do it again
The start never ends …the silence it stings
So off chasing the rush
Never can get enough…it’s the feeling it brings
It brings on a death
Just like the rest…but the need is still there
And in silence she screams
It’s all in her dreams…well its just what she dared
Now the shadows are friends
And the pain never ends…that there is no escape
And her soul’s in the fold
It’s been tarnished then sold…and all for the chase

I joke that I own a home that the Chesty Blonde and our children live in.  I live on airplanes and in rooms filled with strangers.  With rare exception my closest friends all live equally nomadic lives and we only ever see each other in other cities, usually at great hotels and excess filled events.  Its not a bad life if if it doesn’t kill you.

A chronic insomniac I collapse in exhaustion at the end of most days only to be wide awake 2-3 hours later with my mind racing.  Like a vampire or thief much of my public movement is done under the cover of night or before the first light of day. On this occasion I landed at night, met my driver and was whisked away in relative silence.  If you’ve been in the back on one black Lincoln you’ve been in the back of them all.  The outside world passes by as you struggle to control, survive and on occasion dominate your own little piece of reality.  What truly makes a difference in my day is the brief ability to on ocassion have a conversation with a real person.  Not someone who like me is whoring goods or services, their intellect or soul in the name of greed, profit and power.  No those people are are all waiting for me on the other side of that sedan’s door.  Lurking, Posturing, hoping and dreaming.  I know I’m just like they are when not hidden behind sunglasses and tinted windows.   A a good day is a few unexpected minutes with a friend or lover.  A driver who speaks  English and isn’t afraid to talk to me.   My favorite conversations are often 30 seconds exchanges on meaningless topics with strangers.

One of the reasons I chose to do the pictorial on this trip is it is the first one I’ve not had people in tow with in 8 months.  The collection of people who travel with me truly get more of my time than my own wife.   They are my friends and in many ways my own set of twisted but loved companions.    On this occasion I would arrive at my hotel, drop my bags and slip away into the shadows alone.   Sure its wasn’t my few hours of respite on the dark hidden underside of LA but rather in the Family Vacation capital of the world.  Still there had to be something dark out there waiting for me to indulge in.

As usual I was right.  There was trouble lurking right around the corner for me but it was not the kind of trouble I look to find.  I landed in a world  filled with Cheerleaders and their mom’s.  It was some national cheer and dance something or other.  It was a scene right out of the movie “Bring it On” and I was instantly in hell.  First because they were filling up every damn restaurant with in walking distance  and secondly 40 year old divorced stage mothers or worse the still married ones looking to cavort with a well dressed man aren’t exactly my type.  I was polite when one woman asked me to join her for dinner out of the blue as we walked from place to place looking for a table, essentially alone although we were walking almost together down the same street and into the same establishments.  She was pretty, very tall and platinum blond.  No rings on her fingers that mattered and her shoes cost more than mine which is always impressive.  So why did I say no?  Why wouldn’t I indulge in a little conversation, some harmless flirting, or even teeter on the edge of something more illicit?

One reason and one reason only I wanted to indulge in one of my lessor known obsessions.  One of my original Fetishes.  Music!

There is something   about being around a guitar that takes me back to a time when anything was possible and I was looking to sell my slightly less tarnished soul for something I loved and money was only going to be the by product.

Oh the stupidity of youth.  So as the music blared, Mothers and daughters shook their asses with joyous reckless abandon and I watched a pink caddie rotate above the bar.

The rest of the Story really isn’t much to tell beyond the pictures.

I had my one beer for the week with a salad for dinner. Not exactly a hedonist’s delight but on occasion I do what ever I can to prolong my own existence

Alone with a TV and all cell phones, Ip connections and computers off I enjoyed a few rare and sane moments of quiet.

The View from my room when the sun comes up was marvelous but soon enough I’d be clad in an over priced garment and a bold tie.  I would take a meandering route to the meeting rooms.  through the walk ways and through the paths in the gardens just so I could actually be outside and see the sun three times.

Soon after I would head into a room with no widows, a room  by its very design to eliminate all influences and possibly the existence of the outside world.

I would become an audience member in a room with 200 hundred people.  Usually I would know 150 of them but this time I only knew 15 its was as close to anonymous as I get to be in my Nilla life.   I wasn’t a scheduled speaker, I wasn’t the key note or even a break out topic I was in a relative sense just a normal soul.  This for me was an odd experience but a welcome one because rather than  shaking hands and making connections I had small meaningful conversations, I went into geek mode absorbing not the market impact but the actual things than made the lights flash and data whiz around the world.  I got a full blown geek boner at one point.

During lunch I would sit outside and within two minutes of sitting down and obsessively staring at my crack berry a stunning brunette in a pinkish orange bikini would sit down next to me and start a conversation.  The site of a man sitting in the sun by the pool in a blue suit and dark shoes must have been something.   In less than 18 hours I’ve had two women strike up a conversation with me out of the blue.  Both were stunning.  In this case she was single, a grade school teacher away on spring break with friends, all female and single.  She talked and talked, I mostly listened.  Later I bragged to the Chesty Blonde that the Florida sunshine was making me extra sexy and I was bringing home new play friends.  She wasn’t very worried.  Another female friend told me it was because I looked respectable and like a good meal ticket from a distance.  No wedding ring, expensive suits, expensive watch, high end shades.   It might be they were only interested in the quality of my wallet ( coach BTW) but I think she was wrong that these women were just looking for a conversation with a sexy man who was literate and that failing to find that I was a suitable altenative.

Later I would steal away from the meetings for 75 minutes and after slipping onto something more comfortable truly escape.  Not to meet any of the women I’d encounters, or to troll for others but on a date date with my running shoes and I Pod.   60 minutes later I was refreshed and my mind was as clear as it gets.    A few more meetings a two hour cocktail party later the rejuvenated me headed out with acquaintances to dinner at a celebrity chef”s restaurant (over rated)  after which I would disappear into the night as they sang and danced.  I escaped through a series of hall ways and corridors.

Eventually The night wound down, there was no hell to be raised and a man who had been feeding his diet coke habit mercilessly made his way back to his room.  Do  you really want to know what I do at 3am.

Order room service and watch infomercials.  On this occasion I collecyed all the orchid from my room service tray arranged them on the hard wood dressed and sen the picture to the blonde.

The next morning I repeated the process except for the Brunette at lunch.  I killed 2 cell phone batteries, and did my best to wear the keys of my crack berry.  I counted the minutes until the arty was over.  I dreamed of a good tomato bisque and Key lime pie neither of which I would end up getting by my own choice.  The following day i snapped this picture as I walked across the Tiki themed bridge to meet my driver.

Like so many things it was still elegant but some how lost the mystery and sexiness and magic the same water garden had cast over me the  night I arrived.   Still I was finally headed home.  Any week when I sleep in the same bed for more than one night is a good week.  A week where I fly home on a Wednesday and have the Blonde meet me at the airport is a great week.

1)      I would be more upset if Hugh Heffner became monogamous than if some American Icon of sports made it his lifelong goal to bang every cocktail waitress in the world with a cute ass.  BTW I think there are a lot of people who might have that as a goal present company included.  Hugh being monogamous would be crushing to my viewpoint of life an athlete fucking someone who is not their spouse.  Odds are most of the people reading this fuck people who are not their spouse…yes that includes sex toys, vegetables, self love, and other humans.  Now how god damn righteous do you feel.  Yeah though so.

2)      If the president of the United States can turn a cigar in to a sex toy and have the UN and the world still love him why should Nike care?  It’s not like he was cross-dressing and prancing around in a wedding gown after keeping the company of a woman named after the holy mother and Carmen Electra.  Its not like they were paying him to not screw around with other people they were paying him to be the best in the world at playing with little white balls.  No I do know one nice jewish girl who claims to be the best in the world at playing with little white balls but I think its slightly different that what e does…well based on the news reports anyhow who know what hasn’t come out yet.

3)      I would be moderately more interested if it came out that the pope was wearing leather pants on Mondays and cruising at a dangerous rate of speed through the Italian country side on a Ducati while for a good rabbi to confide in.

4)      It might be news worthy if the Dali Lama teamed up with the WWE to kick The  People’s Republic of China’s ass in a pay per view version of political empire smack down steel cage death match and then he became infatuated with the rush or power and violence ultimately becoming fascist dictator.

5)      I would be upset if my friend AB stopped losing her shirt, flaunting her amazing tits, and showing off her piecings at every party before going into to full blown girl on girl nipple licking mode while rolling around in the back yard with the killer hot and truly Crazy E.   Speaking of pay per view it is better than most of the high end porn on the web.

Look I admit it the only thing I know about golf is  I own clubs and three sets of shoes, I own lay when I half to and prefer to cavort with the college girls working the drink carts during university fund raisers and that I like to drink both Arnold Palmer’s and John Daly’s. and there you have it folks a few not so nice thoughts for a Saturday morning.