LoveTones/LustTones

(bedtime babbles)

i am toying with the idea of posting segments in my [other] blog expressing the theme of duality through music and words. basically, i will put up a blog and include two different soundtracks; depending on which you choose, the overall tone of the same written piece will metamorphose into something that contrasts the other.

i feel that the changing of songs can drastically reshape how one interprets the dialogue and shapes the conjured imagery in their head. what sparked this was my recent pondering of how, in the ad world, using different music could be helpful in marketing products to various demographics: using the lyrics, composition, sound and tone, rather than a new cast of people. if most of the demographic and psychographic information of a targeted audience is essentially the same- the only difference being their gender- I find this could be exceptionally powerful in the selling of a brand, and the expansion of its image.

(i am currently working on ad mock-ups to present this point)

in the meantime, here is my first draft for the story side of things:

there is a fine line between lust and love: in the midst of a whirlwind of sweetness, with all receptors firing at blistering speeds, it is sometimes hard to tell the difference between the two: both fill you with elation; leave you weak in the knees; stuttering, breathless or panting. lust and love can be manipulative and render you powerless...or put you in control.

i have created a scenario, (based on blissful experiences, of course) and would like you to use the music i have inserted as your soundtrack while reading. the song you choose will pick a side and set the tone.
____

tell it to me sweetly :
just tell it to me:

there is a certain obscure shift that happens when you start to recognize it's there. a unique, momentary stillness when it's all about to reach the sweet point of breaking...when glances can no longer dance around the center... when lips are nervously bitten...when the smile can no longer hide behind those lips.

there is a symphony of fluttering beneath all of your nerves standing at full attention; mixed with a new cadence in your breath...beneath butter-soft skin, begging to be touched so that you too can turn completely into butter.

the attraction becomes almost tangible, so you try to make the choreography oblique to passersby. this is when you think for a second it might not be there; when you try to hover in denial. but you can't, because it is there. you're right up against it and the electricity is causing it to all unfold rapidly.

when this shift happens, control looses quickly to the natural momentum caused by irrepressible chemical reactions. the myriad distractions no longer break.... and this particular form of silent seduction, becomes: the only distraction

you start to fumble your words. you start to crawl all over each others sentences.
you both meet the crescendo of the last sixty seconds with what feels like a blow to the head--

and it hits at once.

and it does not speak-
it doesn't need to.
even with vibrating vocabulary filling in all the immediate spaces
it only needs to act.
to dizzy you.
make you weak.
blanket everything in a swath of heat that transforms itself into
gushing liquid electricity:
heady, lucid, magnetic-
almost too much to bear.
flickering as you still try to fight it until right before the actual...

*connection*

when it all becomes screaming neon in a blurring sea of smoke rings and vocal abstractions.
when it all becomes palpable...
hedonistic...
all-consuming.

when it becomes some fiery rocket burning through time in a fever of excitement.

THIS is the moment that IT renders you powerless;
when it tears things down.
tears things off.

this is the moment that locks your mind in one place, as you have gotten too close to wonder...too close to speak...too close to think-but not too close. in fact, you can't get close enough. you swallow all the doubt...all the worry and just dive headfirst into a pool of pleasure....into fingertips wandering all over skin...when you grab hold of their face, their waste, the bottom of their shirt....and with this, then you truly let go of the strings attached to all that surrounds you... and you...you just slip into this unadulterated moment; succumb to the silence; the immaculate stillness that has caused time to freeze around you....

in this moment, nothing else matters anyway.
you don't care.
the people outside don't care.
the four walls your spinning in don't care.
the moon doesn't care.
because in the end, it is all that everyone is looking for..... and it is all that is meant to be enjoyed.

Cheers to You, Gorgeous

It's holiday cup-o'-cheer time. Heck, it's just cocktail time.
As a seasoned professional bartendress, that tends to the masses at a bar where the manager has exquisite taste in spirits, I am graced with opportunities to play with a lot of fine products bestowed upon the back bar, that is that of The Beehive... or La Rouche, as the French would say.

Now, I am a lady with a taste and passion for the classics; however, one product has delighted my palate, in the last year, in ways that it hasn't been delighted since I had my first sip of Chartreuse out of a proper, crystal cordial glass. Oooh yes I love me some chartreuse. Get me a cigarette and Goddard and call it a night.... I will be floating in happiness....and drunk and digressing....

But now I found something else. Something destined to be a classic. It is a bit more straight-forward, and dare I say, "user friendly" than Chartreuse, but equally lovely. So if you are looking for a product that is beautiful in more ways than one, and that can be poured into champagne, or mixed with gin, vodka or tequila, than this is for you.

Let me make this introduction that I believe is guaranteed to blossom into a delightful relationship.

Say hello to...

Hellll-Ohhhh.

(press ze)


mmm hmmmm

Isn't she a beauty?

Tall.
Leggy.
Slender, but with the right curves in just the right places.

Yes, you want to hold this one.
(she is easy to caress)

Her neck would nestle itself into the palm of your hand
and it would feel as if it belonged there.

Take a step back.
Take a longer look.
Take her in.

She is a fine specimen.

Indeed one of the best on the market.

She is without-a-doubt intoxicating.

Something that lingers on the tip of your tongue.

She is spring after a long, cold winter.

She is a warm embrace.

A hint of lipstick on your cheek...

She is unforgettable.

What is her scent?

White peach?
Lychee?
Guava?
Some sort of white flower, perhaps?

Elderflower blossoms from the French alps.

She is French, oui.

(of course she is)

She is sophisticated.

Stylish.

Delicate.

She is subtle, yet complex.

She is definitely wild.

She is extraordinary on her own, but can bring out the best in others.

She is all natural-- no preservatives.

Smooth and sweet, but not smothering.

She is handpicked and carried to town by a select group
of bohemian men on bicycles.

Oh, yes:
She is special...

Rare....

Sublime.

Subaerial.

Ingestible.

So go and get 'er.

Yes, just do it.

This is one saint that might make you a sinner... and you want to show her some love....

Take her top off slowly....

Inhale her aroma....

Let. Her. Flow...

And then enjoy every last drop of her:
neat- or as an optimizer for your concoctions.

This IS playground love.

But you should act fast, things as good as this don't come around too often.