-Dr. Daddy

I am getting taped for a pilot piece for a radio advice column called Dr. Daddy and Abby Darling.  I am including a description below, but it is basically advice with a twist for those who live on the edge.

There will be a limousine taking Dr. Daddy and myself to an exclusive house boat location here in the SF Bay while we do the pirate radio taping, have a photographer etc. to help us out with our blog and promo stuff, but there is one thing missing.

We desperately need a few letters seeking advice.  We are trying to get 8-10 letters to read over on the air and give our own brand of cynical sagely wisdom.  If you have any curious questions or crave a bit of crass but caring advice then please either email me back, facebook me, or post your question on our blog anonymously and we would greatly appreciate it.  Links for the blog and more info below.

I look forward to hearing from you soon & feel free to circulate this message far and wide.

Scintillatingly yours,

Abby Darling

                                   of abstact moments,

               so that even a simple breath is labored by the hope

                              that continues to allude us,

             seek out the beauty that is there, to bind our beating hearts

                   and let our spirits soar beyond the memories

                                that dampen our wings.

                                                                   just a thought,dd

 10/26/11

Hangover killing me

Like an axe

trying to split

One log into two

I guess those would be

the hemispheres of my brain

Too many days

Of mad travel and work

Wining and dining

And postures close

To sixty-nining

Now walking to the café

For a meal and hydration

To try and nurse the pain

There is nothing to eat

Or drink

at my apartment

The cupboards are bare

But the drawer

is now filled with cash

Outside the air is warm

With a light breeze

That is soothing

As I walk

It seems like the day

Will bring me some calming

Here for a bit

But then my dog shits

in the parking lot

and squeaks mercilessly

as I order from the counter

I use the restroom

To make sure

That no doggy poo

Has gotten on my hands

And when I look down

Into the toilet

There is a love letter

torn up

and clogging the drain

I sit outside with my dog

For some peace and serenity

But some local yokel

“makes friends” with my dog

And sits herself down

Next to us

To complain about

the local housing market

and all I want to do is puke

If for no other reason

than to scare her away

She invites her friends over

To chat and make friends

With my dog too

And a man feeds my dog a milk bone

But my dog spits it out

Good girl Moki, gooooood girl

They all finally leave

And I am left

In solitude

Alone

With nothing but

The smooth jazz in the background

And the cool day and my food

A small, soft, white pollen puff ball

Floats down and lands in my eggs

Finally, tranquility at last

Dr. Daddy

(found in an obscure file “during inventory” in DD’s subconscious time capsule.)

12/10-12/14/11, by Abby Darling

Clear visqueen sheets of plastic

Covered across the floor

Naked or nearly

Body after body

Postured over one another

With one being dominant

And the other submissive

The latter waiting to receive

Anticipatory sensory pleasure

Inhaling thick, rich magma pool

Of mahogany substance

Bitter sweet

Hint of spice

Sharp to my nose

Clearing my head

And calming

Pouring hot gooey pitch-like liquid

On soft naked pink parts

And pale skin

Feeling

The heat warming

The cool coat

And then sitting with

Those sensations

And letting them

Settle for a while

Until it becomes comfortable

And I am at ease

To the concept of change

And what is different

In my body

I am drenched in dense fluid

On my neck and my nipples

On my belly and thighs

Like a decadent desert

Waiting to be eaten

And I am thoroughly examined

Like a morsel to be cherished

And devoured as delicately

As I was decorated

Soft saliva and gentle lips

Massaging in the confectionery

Wet and slippery tongue

Tracing thin lines

Within the creamy texture

Plush red pillows

Pressing their flesh

Down into darkness

And beckoning nectar

Into the mouth

Tasting the salt of the skin

Mixing with the savory sweetness

Makes natural juices

Flow from within

Allowing for even more

Of the dessert

To be collected

And what is not digested

Is smeared in

With face and cheek

And nose and chin

Sliding muddy matter

Thick and deep into me

And I throw my head back

And close my eyes

To exist in this instant

In such a state of pleasure

And as I do

I hear slapping and smacking

And kissing and licking

Writhing and wriggling

Squirming and sucking

And smiling and giggling

Best of all

The laughter

The happy frolicking

I hear in my periphery

As couples of all genders

And orientations

Play

Like children

Working on their favorite

Art project

Where one is the painter

And the other is painted

We are innocent again

And tease each other

With the soiled sticky umber mixture

Spreading it into circles

Upon a bleached leathery canvas

And some are intricate

In their craft and design

And utilize

Squishy milked marshmallows

Covered in delicious fondue

That is melting the candy treat

As it is dragged along to adorn

But not we

Instead

We are the messiest kids

In our extracurricular class

And if only for a moment

We let our compulsions

And neurosis go

And let ourselves go

With the moment

And give in to the urge

To be free with our filth

And not care

No cares at all

As even when

This creamy viscous dries

It crumbles to pieces

From our skin

To form a layer of dirt

For us to roll

Our bodies

On brown beads in

And just when I don’t think

It can get any better

What I’ve waited all night for

Finally occurs

And you drizzle

Fresh hot fluid

Onto my feet

And proceed to consume

My heels and my toes

Just as lovingly

And with as much

Adulterated reverence

As you have defiled and debased

The rest of my pure white host

And I am moaning

Thankfully

With dark pigment covered

All over my face

As I experience

A form of ecstasy

In this sober experience

Where sex, seed and sucrose

Are my drugs

And I really need no more