Can we talk? #SinfulSunday


“I bet he loves the sound of his own voice…”

I think I do sometimes, when I am conscious of it. When I have dropped a register and slowed the pace. I know that I can make my voice close to being resonant  and interesting. But like everybody. I mostly hate the sound of it…

In reality we are more high pitched then we imagine. The deepening effect of the ear being embedded within the acoustically dulling skull, gives us all a false impression of how we are heard by others.

We squirm a touch. We are embarrased. We are disappointed.

What complex creatures we are. Some of us seemingly programmed to be awkward in our own skins and fall further when when are made aware of the sound waves we transmit.

Even though I know I can ‘fake’ a voice, like a well filtered image, I still hear my hybrid accent flip. My voice slipping into the high pitched, triggered by laughing, incredulity and frustration.

It’s so natural to me. I can speak out to anybody, anywhere. For work…

But of course my tongue can tie and my voice can fade and catch with loss of confidence in my throat. In the real world.

But I like the practice.

Can we talk?

Sinful Sunday

My ‘big one’. My microphone. I’ll be using it this Thursday when in collaboration with Missy and eye we will be frivolous, flirty, filthy and fun. We hope!

9.30pm – Thursday 30th March – Spreaker.

You can listen, use the chat box or even Skype in! (Find me – Watching Distant on Skype)

Our first theme is that old chestnut… masturbation…

How often? Where? What? Who? How?

What better guest then Tabitha Rayne – the enthusiastic creator of #30daysorgasmfun amongst so much else she does!

You can listen to our pilot. Join in with #PlayingOutLive. And join us this week?



Playing Out is coming – very soon… #PlayingOutLive

It’s like your DM’s. Live…

Well maybe not quite like yours…

Some people can write. Elegant. Elegiac. Elemental.

Me? I like to talk.  Whether or not people will listen. I like a natter.

A bimble about. A heart to heart. Nonsense. Anything. And people talk to me… The weirdos…

So we are putting this talk out there. Live. And we want you to join in with us!

You can click. You can listen. You can call in. We will have topics. Themes and Guests…

Oh my we have a special guest for you in in the first one…

When – Thursday 30th March – 9:30pm UK 

Where – (A live broadcast website and phone app. You can make a simple anon connection with your twitter account.)

What? – You could get a Skype account and call in…

Why? – Have a glass of something. Listen in. Join in. Have a chuckle.

Who? – It’ll be me. (@watchingdistant) We have Submiss34F  (@mistress34F on Twitter) and eye herself (@_masterseye on Twitter and here on the blogs)

More details to follow. A short live tech test on Friday where we will reveal the 1st guest! (We are really excited about this person saying yes…) and the first theme for the first show.

It will be funny, filthy, sex positive, rambling, shambling and we hope great fun!

Join us! We want you on board!

More to follow…








@ht_honey wrote an update today:

7h7 hours ago


A blogger and tweeter I follow and admire, that has written and spoken honestly and candidly about body image and the sense of self. Her Sinful Sunday Post today is a rightful celebration, in an a lovely image.

Body image is such a subject isn’t it? In real life I and sometimes a very confident version of a self that I need to portray.

Online I know I am a roustabout fool. I am offline too.

But it’s a facade isn’t it?

I decided to take one photo. Allow myself some editing. Nut I had to use the one photo I took. And this was it.

I can fake confidence like the best of them but I am riddled with the body conscious fears of a 45 year old man, newly single after 20 years. I don’t loathe what I see. But I don’t like it.

The lovely thing about these posts are that people sometimes pop in and then leave supportive counter comments to challenge the posters view of self. There is no need for this.

Sinful Sunday

…s s s single bed…

Single Mattress.

Single Duvet.

Cold temporary dwelling that evoked the days of youth.

When a single bed was for sharing.

Tight spooning, dead armed, hair smelling closeness. Sometimes new and awkward. Sometimes familiar and friendly. Sometimes furtive and intimate. Sometimes rapid and rugged.

The single bed still had the potential to fulfill the requirements of a student me for a year or two.

And now? I overfill the footfall somewhat…

A single duvet is a drafty offer.

But I’m prepared to shift up against the cold wall like I used too.


Sinful Sunday