January 23, 2008
This was one of the first photos taken with my new phone. From a front yard on Capitol Hill, walking home.
And here's what I have to say:
What the fuck is the deal? Years of obsessing. That's me. I am the freaky chick who is defined by her relationships. Exactly what I didn't want to be. Fuck!
The flip side is that the idolatrous worship of the female body can make for absurdly fantastic coitus. Absurdly. And then, cathartic, just in the way that makes you NOT want to have sex. The way that makes you go, ew, I'm looking at myself and that's just gross. Not right. Must go.
Going, takes time. Actually or mentally. Blech.
So. SOMETHING else please. Something worthwhile. Something ... meaty. Not sex.
I'm reminded of the verse: for all things there is a time. And perhaps, just maybe, there's a time to NOT have sex. To not be driven by the need to be coupled, thereby ensuring some sort of mating behavior. (Your mileage may vary.)