xy xy xy xy xy xy xy xy xy !!!

Message from Hugo this morning:

As I get out and become more social, "meet more people",
I've realized something.
When you use to look at me, through me,
with those knowing eyes,
thats the part I miss most about our
relationship. It's also something that hasn't existed
between us in a long time.
I hope we find it someday.

**If only he knew, the knowing look he loves so much,
is a gift I can give or withhold.

Message from Ex Boy this morning:

It's not about sex. It's the feeling when I
used to wrap myself around you, like I couldn't ever
get close enough to you. Snuggle fiending.

Message from a co-worker this morning:

Wanna do something this weekend?
Wanna take shrooms tonight?

Thinking about the diaries of Anais Nin and how free and ruthless
she would be in her description of her feelings.
Because hardly anyone saw what
she was writing or thinking, as she wrote it.
She protected everyone from it, especially Hugo,
not allowing her diaries to be published until after his death.

Beautiful irises are blooming on my desk today.
Courtesy of a beautiful green eyed golden boy.

Tides of hormones ebbing and flowing, in my PMS time.
Feeling despondent and alone.
Irritable and neglected.
Wanting to run away, become invisible, disappear.

Want to lock myself in with the cat in the box. Again.


In the meanwhile the anhedonia has not abated overmuch.
Sexually dysfunctional voracious kitty.
Fucking hilarious.

Well as I said before, I'm no sex goddess
and I wouldn't even be here, writing, had it
not been for my sexually dysfunctional relationship.

Soothing numbness in the exhalation of cigarette smoke.
Buddhist echoes: Desire is the cause of all suffering.
Kill the selfish desires.
Quiet the cacophonic struggles within.
This world, this shell, temporal.
Someday my energy will feed another energy.
And live on, never dying, only passing through.

How it would be to exist on another plane,
where I could walk in light and ascetism,
feeling nothing but a continuous flow of energy.

But earthbound as I am, I bite into the ripe summer
sweetness, and the juice and tender flesh of living
spills out of my mouth.

I can taste the pain and the suffering,
hold it's cold and tangible form in my arms,
my companion as I sleep.

Let it all go like a red balloon.
Keep walking, ingesting, processing stimulus.

Chronic wanker? The Mormons can help.

I guess it's pointless for me to hide my shell now.
So it's available for viewing at Picturetrail.com.
E me if you want the member name and the pwd to the Exoskeleton album.

Sunshine I pray heal this mood of mine.
Fill me with joy that I might be a conduit of light.