I'm feeling pretty good these days. I'm gettting out more, and generally doing a lot of self care. It's cool. I'm about to turn 31 next week. A week from right now in fact. And so time marches on, steady stoic unrelenting until it takes the big sleep. I saw this crazy looking old lady this afternoon that made me wonder what changes this body will go through as it ages. I don't mean crazy like crackhead crazy, I simply mean a sublime reduction of a human. It wasn't pleasant by any stretch, but amazing and cool none the less. Like what will my voice sound like at 68? Will this staccato still be firing? Will my voice get deeper or super reedy like it's been stretched in outerspace? Fucking inquiring minds want know. I think it's gonna be fun. For now though, I want to focus on the super secret black ops mission of my 30's. There is a lukewarm skirmish taking place in my mind and soul about my relationship to love and sex. I mean, in my 20's it was all about making up for lost time. All the plotting and scheming of my childhood and adolescence finally paid off, and I totally could not have told a such a tale unless I lived it.
If I am honest with myself, love was an afterthought. I was all about fucking. There some noted exceptions to that practice. Maya comes to mind. She was precious. We were babies. But mostly, I wanted to taste it all. And I did. The price was steep. I'm kind of boneheaded romantic. My attitude was if the sex or chemistry was spectacular, then we were destined for something great and extended. I was willing to endure their company for the great sex thinking, eventually they'll get it. I failed to fucking realize that you actually ALSO need to like the person in a Rumi and Shams of Tabriz kind of way to be able to truly endure their company. I put the emphasis on 'also' because great sex is still numero uno. I am just realizing that I need to take time to get to know someone. That is to say, to truly be present when encountering and engaging a person with whom you share a sexually charged tension, as opposed to a thinly veiled feigned interest in whatever drivel is coming out of their verdant over ripe craw...biding one's time until you taste of flesh again. Once the heady stupor of sexual arousal has worn off, there is only the individual. And if the individual sucks or is not fucking getting with the cosmic love program, then your emotional world will be a shit strewn train wreck for atleast nine months after the last time you got it on with the person. FUCK THAT. If I take 30 days to get to know these foxy ladies first, I can root out the riff raff. I mean I can obviously go a hot loooong minute without sex, so hold out for another 30 days next time you meet a hotty. I think it'll be worth it.