Monday, May 02, 2005
Hot one
Tonight I celebrated with tense energy and anticipation the last lecture of my second semester of graduate school. Exams are yet forthcoming but, lo, I feel giddy, even a little bit shocked, to think that I am theoretically halfway there. Perhaps the coming days will allow me enough spare time to get back into the rhythm of writing here, as it's certainly a meditation that I miss.
Last Saturday I aimed, again, at the artful task of letting go, self-ablation through total immersion in others, conversation or bust, sin and gluttony, a surfeit of tits and asses and all sorts of other generally swathed swatches of skin of both sexes. My recent spring-induced fever for physical intimacy led me to cross some lines that were begging to be crossed, and I take that squirrely internal echo of the whole thing to mean that I done right. Happy birthday to Jackie, as she is certainly the hairdresser par excellence, and Violette continues to impress me.
Case in point. Apologies for shot of my chest bush, but, whatever, a nipple-encircling lipstick stain is an appropriate source of pride for this gay.
For the nth time, I've gone and let another person named Jeff catch my eye. I think he's straight, but, seriously, I don't like the narcissistic implications of yet another nomenclative twin ending potentially ending up (ha!) in my bed. Ah, what the hell, come on in if'n you wanna.
This Friday is Cinco de Mayo, and, though I traditionally miss celebrations on this day due to work the next day or what have you, I have a feeling that this weekend I'l be, ah, letting the dogs out. Last Friday before finals, lads, and someone is going to deejay right down the road. Killer.
I wish I were a rumor mill, because I would so be jumping all over this damned Kansas-centered rehash of the Scopes trial. Nothing like a little evil-hearted smearing to make one feel better about the dumber factions. Seriously, this is getting so out of hand that I'm not even laughing anymore; I shudder to think that creationist dupes still think they're being proactive and clever by trying to use the forensic (or scientific, for that matter) format to wedge agenda into the media circus.
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Last Saturday I aimed, again, at the artful task of letting go, self-ablation through total immersion in others, conversation or bust, sin and gluttony, a surfeit of tits and asses and all sorts of other generally swathed swatches of skin of both sexes. My recent spring-induced fever for physical intimacy led me to cross some lines that were begging to be crossed, and I take that squirrely internal echo of the whole thing to mean that I done right. Happy birthday to Jackie, as she is certainly the hairdresser par excellence, and Violette continues to impress me.
Case in point. Apologies for shot of my chest bush, but, whatever, a nipple-encircling lipstick stain is an appropriate source of pride for this gay.
For the nth time, I've gone and let another person named Jeff catch my eye. I think he's straight, but, seriously, I don't like the narcissistic implications of yet another nomenclative twin ending potentially ending up (ha!) in my bed. Ah, what the hell, come on in if'n you wanna.
This Friday is Cinco de Mayo, and, though I traditionally miss celebrations on this day due to work the next day or what have you, I have a feeling that this weekend I'l be, ah, letting the dogs out. Last Friday before finals, lads, and someone is going to deejay right down the road. Killer.
I wish I were a rumor mill, because I would so be jumping all over this damned Kansas-centered rehash of the Scopes trial. Nothing like a little evil-hearted smearing to make one feel better about the dumber factions. Seriously, this is getting so out of hand that I'm not even laughing anymore; I shudder to think that creationist dupes still think they're being proactive and clever by trying to use the forensic (or scientific, for that matter) format to wedge agenda into the media circus.
