Im not sure what the hell we need purposes for...
Existential angst, nihilistic blotter, hedonstic gluttony...
those are some containers for talking..
about the purpose.
When i think about sex, i think about where mouths havent gone to...
i think about facial hair, dry skin and biting the bottom lip...
pressing, searching, groping...learning new languages with hands...and tongues.
like it becomes a book in itself that's memory is kept between bodies.
the only thing we use that really tells about where and how and what we are is not some divine loud creature shouting to end wars, or live by certain rules or not to eat fish on fridays...
its simple and im sure every preacher would tell me i was a sinner...but its our own little temple... our own fucking roller coaster...made of flesh, hair , nails and bones..
i wish i was more brave, i would walk around naked more frequently.
skinny dip regularly, and have a lover who enjoyed laying on my back.
this is what happens when you pay attention to your body...
it craves attention..
your brain can even get shut off during ecstatic sequences, memory is erased from the cerebral part and zapped down your spine..
and remains here right here in my palm.
i think i may be writing for aliens....most of us here have bodies.
i just really enjoy being inside one...today.
some days i dont even know it exists. (-to rememeber-Written on the Body- a book that blurs ambiguity of sex and creates a love story vivid and visceral but the main character is never identified as male or female...
the last tatoo I had. i could have fallen for the artist. intimate creative, emotional and sweaty.
sounds like a good lover.
sometimes i think i should become one. forgo the ambitions of education and trying to help others...and become a tatoo sleaved creature and call myself monk.
move to portland...stay with the last guy who tatooed me...and live a beer hazed, tatooe filled existence. in anonymity and justice for all...
i keep thinking in images from the Pillow Book....
movies movies...
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1 comment:
Red Dragon Tattoo. Great song. Download it.
We don't need purposes, you are right about that. Only for our fragile self-esteems do we need to think we were born for a reason. Talent may be purely genetic.
Genius is a mutation, or an evolutional accident.
You seem to feel things almost too deeply. You almost give the world more thought than it deserves. That is common in uncommon people, like artists.
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