You Sound Fun! — A Prologue

If misery loves company, then triumph demands an audience.

— Brian moore, irish novelist

Mr. Moore could not have stated a more apropos truth about human nature, all humans and their self-formulated projections upon others.

Yes, I demand an audience. Nay, I deserve an audience.

I have a glorious story to tell. A story of victory, a story of euphoric happiness, a story of defiance, a story of love and loves over many centuries including this one. But most of all, a story of orbit-reaching delightful joys that do indeed fall upon and for people the Universe deems worthy of such gifts, in plenty, despite those individuals in my life wish and pray upon me. Gleefully I laugh at them with a Cheshire-cat grin and lifted middle finger to their mythical fairy-tale god, lord, and hypocritical churches! Bwahahahaha!

I am so extraordinarily happy this day and it is never going away; impossible. That’s the best part.

Read it and weep, or read it and applaud. If the latter, then you likely comprehend and embrace the profound concept of compersion. Sadly, very few do in our part of the world. But that’s fear controlling them, not us.

Let the true story begin, again and again, without end! πŸ₯°

∼ ∼ ∼ § ∼ ∼ ∼

When I had arrived at my assigned freaky-cartoony P51-pseudo-Tardis-machine thingy (above image)—and sent from her [Lenora], for me as the soon-to-be-pilot noticing the name on the side of the nose β€œLuscious Lenora”—I climbed in with a twinkled eye of sheer excitement. I reached over my shoulders to strap-in snug. And almost buckled-in the buckle when SUDDENLY it locked in all by itself!!! β€œWeird,” I said under my breath, β€œtalk about convenience. Pretty fuckin’ cool.”

the cockpit of Luscious Lenora

Then I gazed at the cockpit instrument panel. β€œHuh? This is odd.” The Attitude Indicator had no horizon, no brown, no blue; just an arrow pointing forward/ahead. The Tachometer and the Airspeed Indicator both didn’t appear to have any top number or ceiling. β€œOkay, this may not go well” I said in suspicion. I looked further around the cockpit, QUICKER, trying to see what else might be… umm, MISSING? β€œOh crap! Where tha fuck is the EJECT-BUTTON!?” Gone. Obviously whoever constructed this Hell-machine was horribly absent-minded. β€œWTF!” I try to unbuckle my straps. Can’t. Not even a slight give.

Then it hit me when my eyeballs wanted to pop-out. Sweating now.

Suddenly Lenora’s voice comes on some hidden speakers above and behind me.

[Note — the purple print are her words, her writing, (HAH!) her obvious unorthodoxy]

[Damn right they are, my love…]

Hello Darling. Are you ready?” she said in this evil, menacing… HAWT voice,

to which I softly replied, “This is going to sting, isn’t it?

Only at first Cowboy.”

You have already traveled very, VERY far. This will be the easiest trip of your life, my love. We’ve got this. I know you, you know me. Let’s finally just do what we do best… explore.”

The straps tightened, but it was more like an embrace than a restraint. She knew him from the vast forests of prehistoric Europe. He had had dreams of her since childhood as a flapper, gin-soaked and luscious.

“I would ask if you trust me, but I already know you do. You’ve been the pilot for so long for so many others who have needed you. Lay back, relax, and… just let me. This is simply a reunion. I need nothing from you but… you. I have missed you like a phantom limb…

I know where we’re headed and I know what you desire – it’s HIGH time you got it. And baby, I’m gonna give it to you.”

A pause of silence begins. I ask myself, Has she left me here? Inside this contraption, in which any concept of ‘deplaning’ is now out of the question. Then her music begins…

Without any movement from my clammy nervous hands, trim-knobs turn, the propeller lever moves forward all on its own, fuel-shutoff slams on, the two magneto switches flip on, what I think are the battery and generator switches they flip up. More unfamiliar, worst still unlabeled, unmarked switches… they pop on! “Oh hells bells.” Recognizing my few remaining minutes of life, I tell myself, β€œSelf, piloting this freaky P-51 bird will not be my job today. This is clear.”

But in my excitement and sheer, sweaty thrills, I have gotten ahead of myself in the story.

∼ ∼ ∼ § ∼ ∼ ∼

The date is April 3rd, 2023, at 6:25pm. An evening that would turn my life upside down in the most spectacular ways possible. It was completely an unplanned online event I just serendipitously attended. I didn’t think I would stick around for even 30-minutes. I had other things I needed to do instead. But little did I know.

The music event was familiar to me, the musical tracks played by DJ Sunilique always invigorating, intellectually stimulating, emotionally and physically moving as if I was possessed by melodic notes and primal rhythms—ah, a home away from home. I am with my people, my songs, our fashion, our creed. Chatting amongst ourselves is food and oxygen for our Gothic, Steampunking, Industrial kinks and souls. We laugh often, love much in our own weird methods, and always welcome any. As I am joking with several of my witty friends, She cleverly joins in. Immediately we crack each other up. It seems to come fast and easy. About that time a private message pops up on my screen.

β€œHmm, You sound fun!”

β€œSo do you!” I replied immediately.

β€œYou’re in TX?”

β€œYes” dejectedly, β€œSorry.” I hoped she wouldn’t hold that against me.

Since that afternoon, however, I have climbed into this surreal dimension inside this freaky-cartoony P51-pseudo-Tardis-machine thing she brought to me and it seemingly never runs out of happy-fuel. It has been a joy ride that I cannot pilot. I’m not sure I want to.

When you have found your home, you want to protect it with every fiber of your body, mind, and soul, with EVERYTHING you can possibly muster! You do everything within your powers to avoid its loss so no one can snatch it away. Why should ANYONE take that from anyone? Why would they want to, unless they are filled with hate, jealousy, and zealous self-righteousness.

Ahhh, but the Haters will try indeed. They refuse to except anything less than misery loving THEIR company if you do not believe, do not follow, and do not practice their lifestyle exactly as they do…

BWAAAAAA!!!! Fuck that and FUCK them!!! πŸ–• I am totally free and I am with my kind, my people. You replace the previous ‘my kind,’ the indoctrinated robots, and make it so, SO much better. And it is so very good. Mmm, my life is very good and perfect right now.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!

to be continued…

Live Well – Love Much – Laugh Often – Learn Always

The Professor’s Convatorium Β© 2023 by Professor Taboo is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 

16 thoughts on “You Sound Fun! — A Prologue

  1. In order to experience compersion, conditions would have to exist that most people would never encounter, I think. The part I don’t get is the being “almost instantly happy” if your partner tells you he or she is romantically or sexually involved with someone else. To me there is something missing, a preamble of some kind where discussions had been discussed, and scenarios scenarioed.
    My now ex-wife and I had a sort of open agreement which if we met someone who really turned us on sexually that straying was allowed. But for as much as that scenario would be unpredictable, still there were certain rules. The use of condoms, non-exchanging of phone numbers or real names, and announcing the trust before partaking in it, so there was no unexpected absence. Basically, forewarned is forearmed.
    When I got a call at 2:00 AM one morning from my wife’s girlfriend asking if she had gotten home safely from “going for coffee” with a guy she met I forgot all about our agreement. I did not get angry, but rather I got hurt because she had not bothered to phone, to tell me she was straying. When she finally got home I didn’t care if she enjoyed herself or not. No compersion! More like betrayal. The agreement ended that night. (That had not ended our marriage, nor did it factor in it. But that is not part of this comment.)
    The actual problem in this event was the phone call from the girlfriend. She had been worried enough about my wife to make sure she was safe. To me that said the guy she was with was not necessarily trustworthy. She told me she didn’t like the vibes she was getting, like something bad might happen. That worry, worried me.


    • I totally understand. In my first marriage, he told me what I wanted to hear, I told him what he wanted to hear…. and I learned an important lesson. If, when you are FIRST with someone, you think there’s a snowball’s chance in HELL that you may do otherwise – just talk about it.

      I’m very fortunate. I came up in the lifestyle and had an absolutely ideal “growing the kids” phase… but my husband knows who I am, supports it and is THRILLED that my energy is renewed by my Lovely Professor. What a GIFT. I hope I’m interesting, but… my focus will always be what feeds the love in my life and my audience will always be those who wish to exchange love and kindness. I hope you find the same. Everyone on earth deserves it. ❀

      Liked by 1 person

    • Very very doubtful this go round. Why? Because she does this better than I do, but MORE importantly… she does it 100-times better than any woman I’ve been with (for a long extended time) in my past, bar-none! Period. No comparisons. And for the record, I’ve been with many, like a HUGE number, and most all of those were well above-average on the ethical-moral scales of the Lifestyle and its critical principles. πŸ™‚

      In fact, I am already a smash hit in her household she informs me—having talked with everyone there, except one, who doesn’t need talking to because of advanced, very advanced age. πŸ‘


  2. I admire the enthusiasm, colour, sounds and imagery. In one of those patterns which Life is constantly weaving this ties into Jill’s post on the Byrds’ ‘Eight Miles High’.
    This is another country visible and observable by distant from mine where the mindset is still set in Europe where two catastrophic wars and their aftermaths are still fresh memories or vivid folk memories, overlaid with wasted decades.
    Wish you well on this exciting journey through realms and levels.
    I’ll be watching.

    Liked by 1 person

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