Sweets

Juha woke up dazed like a man who got hit by a social hand grenade. Blearily he raised his pounding head from the edge of his mattress.
Looking around the room, the morning started laughing manically at the total devastation and degradation he provoked and endured.
Bottles of champagne, whiskey, gin and the contents of the mini bar lay strewn across the floor.
Picking himself up, he sat, head hung in self pity, shaking his head clear and gazing at the slender tanned leg as it move across the silk sheets.
Staring at the white chips on the bedside table, brought the sudden realisation of what he’d done. “Oh God” he groaned. A grin started across his face as he saw a little blue pill on the floor. It was like a wash of instant clarity.
Instinctively he crushed up the white chips and racked himself a large line of pure heaven as it glued into his nasal walls instantly removing the hangover and waking his desires and hunger for life. Pouring himself a whiskey, he downed a glass and took the pill.
That was all he needed to arouse his passion for the girl again. What was her name? How much did he owe her? Did he owe her anything at all? He quizzed himself for a split second before realising he didn’t give a shit.
He racked up more, taking a large snort.
Stroking her back down along the curves of her body, his hand resting gently between her legs, he leaned across her back and whispered into her ear “Hey, gorgeous, it’s morning and time to wake up.”
She stirred and turned with a smile.
“Breakfast?” he said, handing her the credit card and rolled up note.
She said nothing, all she thought of was the self indulgent pleasure he was about to give her, as he’d done most of the night before. And he’d been really good. She mused to herself.
She sniffed it up. He racked another DJ line. She sniffed again. Kissing his chest moving down towards his loin, she was feeling the excitement of cocaine pulsating from her veins and his stiffness.
Groaning he started to remember the bar he had casually sat at, being courted by her and discovering her danger and guile, mixed with his drugs and wanton abandonment.

The truth, so easy to to say, so hard to come by was as illusive now as it had always been.
Nestled in a wooded glade, the bar worked on several levels, physically, emotionally and commercially. In the moonlight, gentle soothing music played, in the background the seas soft kiss on the beach perpetuated this hum of activity, as bohemians continued to amble along its endless promenade.
As the time passed Juha gazed out to the vast darkness that shrouded the lapping sea, only its perpetual, hypnotic caresses betraying its presence.
'When would he arrive?' he contemplated whilst sipping his frappé.
Folded in the south eastern coastline of Santorini and collected by a sheer rock face that divided the islands coastline, Perrissa held all the romance of a thousand dreams lit by a single thought. Endlessly evocative of sultry warm nights, this was the destination Juha had selected to meet Mik, the freelance director of photography, assigned to the Hellenic exposé Juha was working on.
Mik had no idea of the multi-million dollar illusion he was helping to create. Sheer genius, as it was, the production of a magazine to print and promote was intense. It still needed to be interesting, full of fashion, music, interest articles, travel, the list is endless. The up side was the billions of dollars in cocaine profits, delivered around the world, mixed up in the pulp of the paper and washed out in processing plants around the world, after delivery. Simply extracted it was this chemical mix that Juha supplied, and was necessary to all the organisations involved from the Triads in China, the Cechin in Russia to the West coast and East coast Mafia families. His ingenuity and network of power allowed him certain curtain calls and exit doors, giving him the power to be anywhere with virtually anything, in utter stealth.
Across the bar, embraces abounded the place, calmness, peace and a sense of desire melted into metaphysical pleasure between them.
The rhythmic beats pushed through his senses and relaxed his mind, expanding its desire to be mischievous. He knew tonight was not the night to party, but he couldn't help himself, it was his weakness and strength, the girls that partied and the boys that were dread cool.
Alone he waited, unconsciously tapping his feet to the house music pulsating from the speakers standing beside his seat. His mind wandered, maybe he would find some hashish, a couple of girls, champagne a few lines? Life could be bearable like that, drifting into an orgy of sexual hijinx, he became aware of his own arousal. 'Damn, that girl is hot.' The thought trailed through his mind as his eyes stripped her down to a snake like body.
"Hi there, Mister." came the silken voice, bringing Juha out of his trance like state, anonymity afforded him.
"Hi." his surprise apparent as he refocused his eyes to take in the beauty in front of him.
"Can you dance?"
He stood and took her hand to the dance floor, his night was starting to come alive. He smiled, thinking that Mik was probably stuck in a sweaty little room and a customs officer going through all his equipment.
"Where are you from?" the silky tones continued.
"Just over there." He pointed to his seat.
"Funny hah hah guy are you?" the sarcasm was soft and delivered with tight lips and a raised brow.
"Finland, but I was moved at a young age to England." He put his hand into the small of her back pressing firmly. Moving together as if they had been dancing together forever they lost themselves in each others eyes, connecting with each others inner projection, the sensation thrilling and erotic.
"You?"
"Athina."
"A Greek goddess then." Juha affirmed by moving himself closer. She smiled dismissing the cliché conversation, but very aware of the intensity of his mind behind his blue eyes.
"Business or pleasure?"
"At the moment, both."
"You look like the kind of man that can help me out with something I can powder my nose with?"
"I have a number honey, 1818 cocaine, and someone magically appears with bags of it. What makes you think I can help? You know I thought, for once I could win the heart of a beautiful woman, just with my looks and charm, instead of the 'tattoo' on my forehead that says, 'has drugs, plays all night long.' Is it the long hair? Body language? Do I smell of it?" His turn in attitude towards her was fast and cold.
"I understand you, I know it's a crazy thing to ask, but I'm getting desperate and this is a small island. I don't want anyone knowing my personal business. And yes, you do have a tattoo on your forehead saying that." She smiled and prepared to move off.
"Wait, maybe I can help, but that depends on what you'll give, since I am bored here alone, you're alone and . . ." Stephania stopped him with a kiss.
"I have it back in my hotel room."
"Let's go then." She pulled at his hand.

Aware that Mik was already an hour late and had sent no message, he walked out into the night, destination pleasure written on the ticket.
Back in the hotel room he opened his case, whilst the girl headed for the bathroom.
He took out a neatly packed 30gram parcel, unwrapped it and sliced out about 7grams placing it on the table by the side of the bed. Juha ran his fingers through his hair and pinched a small amount between his finger and thumb, inhaling, he suspended life before dropping his head forward towards the scattered powder. With his card he racked up 6 lines of the purest quality flake available in the market.
"I wanted a little." She feigned her protestation.
He held the rolled €500 note and urged her towards the side table.
"Gorge yourself, until you're convinced it's good stuff."
"I only have €200." suspecting some sort of trap with the over generous offer.
"Be cool, I'm in a generous mood."
She wasted no time, sitting next to Juha on the bed and leaning forward she was soon feeling the days weariness evaporate into her senses as they heightened causing her body to quiver with sexual excitement.
"Kiss me again." She whispered
Juha moved his lips towards her, his warm breath caressed her cheek, his lips gently touching hers, they kissed briefly, both inhaling before their lips entwined in a passionate exchange. He bit down on her lips and moved his hand to the small of her back gently stroking her as his hand moved down. She turned him around and pushed him back on the bed and rested her hands on his belt buckle, whilst easily slipping the knot and pulling his trousers down revealing the now tight boxer shorts.
She felt him shiver as he became rigid in her possession.
She wanted him now as the heat between her thighs became almost unbearable, she needed him in her, she felt out of control all her desire and passion focused in pleasuring him, as he had done with this drug he had given her with graceful generousity. She took another line before pulling his shorts off, the last barrier.
Juha laid back experiencing the moistness of her lips and the touch of her hair.
Ignoring his phone flashing and buzzing in the background, he tensed, she continued rhythmically swallowing, licking, kissing, pressing and massaging him until he could hold no longer.
"Here's my number," she said, "maybe we could make a night of it next time?"
Juha was laying on the bed, trousers and belt round his ankles, his shirt part covering his boxer shorts, and an expression of satisfaction painted on his face.
"Sure, I'd like that, a lot."
She smiled and waved goodbye as she walked from the hotel room, armed with her commodity and guile.

Mik was waiting at the bar.
"Where have you been?"
Juha grinned. "A diversion, don't worry, you were late so I popped back at the hotel for a quick parlé and rendezvous."
Mik raised his eyebrows. "I don't want to know. You dog. I had my own problems with the Greek officials, even though I have the visa license to clear the equipment it took forever. What's with the customs guys and camera equipment anyway?"
"No idea. I don't have any hassle with my equipment." A wry smile crossed Juha's face. He ordered a Whisky, Macallan, straight. Mik was already gulping his beer, an ice cold Amstel, the 'coldest on the island' professed the sign outside.
"This is the life, eh Jook?" Mik announced.
Sipping his Whisky and taking in the night air, he nodded to himself feeling the wash of post-coital warmth and the heady infusion of the cocaine high.
"So. What happened to you then?" Mik flexed.
"I thought you didn't want to know?" Juha coiled inwardly.
"Come on I need a laugh. And, some serious fun."
"Well it just so happens you're in luck." Juha slipped the wrapper into Mik's pocket.
Mik's eyes lit up as if two hot dancers with liquid leggings had sprang forth into his optical nerves electrifying them.
"Steady on. I don't know if it's any good or not, so take it easy." He lied.

Playing games with people always gave Juha something else to keep his brain alert and active when relaxing. It was just something he had always done, putting power into the hands of others to see what they did with it. From thinking they're first in something to thinking they've cornered Juha, when they haven't. It diverted the truth, so that he could maintain his unpredictable nature, no one knew where they stood with Juha, truly at least, until Juha wanted them to know. A thousand faces, as many hearts, defined souls, pure and good, sodden and evil, a dark reflection of the intense light. His investigations into the darkness of himself showed no limits to depravity, just a perpetual pushing of boundaries, exploration of oneself, understood from childhood.

The hand waving in front of his face, accelerated Juha into the here and now.

"You OK? You looked lost in your yourself."
No, I'm cool, go enjoy yourself man, it was an effort to find some on this freewheelin' bohemian island place."

Mik reappeared holding his hand out in the sign of 'OK, that's good shit man.'

The evening progressed each taking their turn, at natural pauses, gradually, through the evening, the high was relaxing both of them. Simultaneously they noticed the girls, mingling at the bar, lured into the charming atmosphere created by the presence, Juha and Mik projected. The flirting with waitresses and the occassional beauty that closely glided past them, they were now toys for the locals to play with, and they knew it.
"Do you think physical attraction is the result of healthy genetics waiting to pro-create to produce yet more healthy genes populating the panet with yet more beautiful people? And if that's the case, why after so many generations do ugly people get laid?"
"Fuck knows, that's what drugs and alcohol are for, aren't they?"
They laughed.
"Take a look at those girls over there," his eyes flashed towards them, "do you see how each one is desperately insecure, yet they each try and project an image of what they want to be, not who they really are. Let's suppose they revealed there inner selves. Look at the one in the black dress, she looks like a dirty slut who wants to have cock day and night. That's why I love coke, it presents the truth of your soul, not only to yourself but to those around you. The question is, is it the drug or is it the freedom of being true you feel when admitting you are addicted to it. A drug feared, revered, hated, loved, collected, discarded, that desire that sings to your soul and is danger. A place you go within, that you rarely show yourself, let alone anyone else. That being, of course, honesty, truth and absolution from projecting someone you're not."
"Slow the horses down man, I just wanted to escape reality a little, get stoned and fuck."
The simplistic response told Juha everything he needed to know about Mik.
"Well let's do it then dude, you take the good looking one on the left and I'll try my luck pretentious one on her right."
Knowing the one on the left was part of the game plan, she projected the 'it's all about me' personality, that was so easy to tease, entice and raise her passion up beyond her want, but what she really needed, he approached with a simple 'Hi' and a wry smile, juxtaposed his handsome features making the subtley expressed word an ironic cliché. Designed to generate a reaction on so many levels. This was what Juha enjoyed most in conversation, countering the response, whatever it might be. Always said with a cheeky smile and a spark of seduction in his eyes.
The girl on the left giggled as Juha looked at her whilst he propositioned her apparently highly strung friend. A bite he smiled to himself.
"Why don't we distract you both from the conversation you're having, buy a few drinks and try to help you both dissolve todays troubles and tiredness?"
They looked at each other, determining whether the sentiment behind the words were genuine and trustworthy from the messenger and his friend.
"Why not?" She flashed a frosty 'hard to get' smile at Juha.
"My compadré here is Mik, a director of photography, no less and my name is Juha, Jook, to my friends."
"And what do you do?" interjected the girl on the right.
"I'm a publisher, nothing special, I just help to produce various aspects of its content. And you?"
"I'm Iulia and this is my closest friend Stephania." Stephania flashed a glance at Iulia.
"So are you on holiday here or are you native to the island?"

Before long the conversation was flowing as easily as the drinks when Mik disappeared to take another line. 'Stupid' thought Juha, 'but then what can you do to stop first timers from running riot, but so obvious to controlled users.' Or so Juha thought.
"Do you have any for us?" came the whispered incursion.
"Only back at my room in the hotel I'm at." Pausing Juha thought for a split second, "Why don't we wait for Mik to come back, and me and you go back there and bring some back for us all to share? Besides Mik and Stephania seem to be getting along just fine, don't you think Iulia?"
"Oh yes." She gazed longingly at him.
Mik returned and they made their excuses and went on there way with little resistance from Stephania and Mik.

For a moment on the walk back to the hotel, it occurred to Juha that virtually everyone that had crashed and burned was or had taken this drug. The difference being that Juha was a source man. Only the finest quality. After all Coke was like wine, except the appellation of choice was Peru, and the fin vin was flake. Although the people, billions of them probably, or maybe a few hundred million who had wealth beyond the third world full of paupers. It was as if the peasant farmers of South America were making revenge on a thousand years of oppression, by harvesting a poison that only the wealthy overlords could partake in. Finally a harvest stolen, worthy of their oppressors. It was only that these new knights were not bound by religious verve, merely an insatiable desire for money, truly the source of all evil that leads to self destruction.
Juha laughed to himself. A different harvest, new virtues, the same old story. Greed.

Iulia's eyes were dark and dazzling as he for the second time in 4 hours racked up 3grams of gear. She watched intently, gazing at Juha for permission.

Blogging

Blogging is it? What's it all about? A place I can rant and rave, let idiots, jokers and tokers read some weird, straight, bizarre or sublime thoughts? Well if that is blogging, bring it on.

In the beginning

I suppose it all began in a small bedroom with the motherly cries of pain at the expulsion of a new life into the world, the panic stricken faces of onlookers reflecting the helplessness of both mother and new born child. I cried with my first in take of breath, so I’m told.

Apparently I was an introspective baby, with my mother placing a mirror over my mouth to check that I was still breathing, I was so quiet. Why I was made this way I will never know, but that is how it was and still is.

My earliest memory, ironically, was sitting in a pub garden during a wedding reception, it was sunny and the grass was soft and full and I was at the height of my imagination playing with a toy fire engine a distant relative had bought me that day. Never again have I seen that toy in my memories and I miss that fire engine, because it was my first joy. I remember vividly the warmth of the sun and the peace I felt surrounded by the feeling of singular anonymity, projected by my wonderings of how this bright red fire engine was in my hand as I played until the memory faded.

As I write this I search the elusive past for more detail and this single event has stuck in my head, may be it was the generosity of the unknown person that has stayed with me throughout my life, that has made me the man I am today.

Thus starts my journey.

As I lay on the floor of a family gathering, and these gatherings were large, I gasped for breath as a well meaning relative rib tickled me until I could no longer laugh, my lungs bursting and yet they still didn’t let up. This harrowing experience can be seen in many people today and I don’t reveal this event seeking anything other than a comraderie with all the other tickled adults of childhood in the world. It is my belief that a fundamental realisation occurred in me at this point in my life, a change that was irreversible, it was called “leave me alone you bastards!"

Atrius the dreamlord

His life seemed obsolete. Every direction he turned he saw a meaningless gathering of thoughts driving through his mind and each one empty of meaning. Or did the meaning elude him. Sitting with his small vial of ethikane, Atrius put to rest his mind for the time being. The search should be so simple, the worlds he visited and people he had met and how he travelled there were beyond the understanding, mysticism and even the unknown, of the land that he stayed in and loved for its simplicity.

It burnt his brain to realise in a moment that the script he wrote on his arms gave the answers he looked for

The writer

Writing is an instinct, that when performed publicly, bemuses, entices, and draws curiosity as to the machinations of the authors mind. A secretive hobby and disturbing to those who witness it.
Are the insights to a writers mind so intriguing as to bare humility, disgust from those that surround them. The writer may be inert, yet their minds are flying through a thousand adventures beyond the reality surrounding them. Complacent in being who they are, for those that ignore the writer, sadness awaits, as truly their soul is as empty as a blank book, and to be true, a blank book is all they'll ever be.