A Warm Well Lighted Place

 A Nod to Ernest Hemingway (a clean well lighted place)

While Ernest Hemingway was not an expatriate like many other American writers (i.e., James Baldwin, who lived in Paris from 1948 to 1957 and did much of his most substantial writing during those years), Hemingway spent a great deal of time as a news correspondent abroad, as well, and gained great respect for his sparse use of words in most of everything he wrote for newspapers and magazines, but it also spread to his work as a novelist and short-story writer. I’m thinking specifically of A Clean Well Lighted Place, a story that appeared in a magazine in 1933, set in a cafe (hence the clean well-lighted place) but it is a story about “nothing” and despair and certainly NOT about wearing a butt plug as a thing I do that keeps me happy and content and inspired.

I know. I know… the introduction to this post may have seemed strange, but I hope not off-putting. I’m a writer and like Hemingway, I love the physical, concrete descriptions of place, hopefully said with few words that are concrete and allows us to see the place or thing I’m talking about. I just love the picture of this guy’s deep-seated plug. I can feel what it must feel like buried almost to the point of the base of the plug slipping past the sphincter.  I’ve been in restaurants before when I used a lot of lube and suddenly felt the ring base of my Icicles #14 forcefully get shoved into the rectum, past the sphincter as the hard surface of the seat pushed the ring base just enough for it to begin the journey into the nether reaches of my large intestine. 

In a restaurant in public that made for a crisis. If I didn’t go into the public men’s room and get myself to a stall with a wet paper towel (for clean up) and dig around in my rectum to retrieve the plug as soon as possible, it would have migrated farther into my anal canal past the reach of my fingers. And would have to make an embarrassing visit to the hospital to have a doctor or assistant do a fist-job to grab the (in this case) the crystal ring base and pull it out.

I discovered the propensity of plugs and dildos stuck in my ass to go on a journey into the inner reaches of my intestines, one time, when I fell asleep with a 10-inch dildo with no base in my butt. For some fortunate reason, I had decided to attach a cord to the dildo that I could reach and pull the dildo out of my butt if I chose to shove it past the sphincter. I fell asleep, however, before I did that, and when I woke up with a very busy feeling in my gut, I felt back there and discovered, just a bare two inches of cord was sticking out of my closed anus. The cord I attached to the dildo was at least two feet long!

During my nap, the dildo had traveled way the fuck up into my intestines and presumably would have eventually encountered an obtuse left or right turn and been stopped. It’s not like there’s a straight line from my butt hole to the back of my throat.

 

There, that's better. Just illustrates my point that things can go very deep, regardless of how twisted the path may be to get there. 

Of course, all I’ve done while writing this post is to have my sacred glass plug in my rectum.