. A Dream Of Summer .
Originally Uploaded here by 3amfromkyoto
I'm tired, dirty, broke, and sore. I'm sunburnt too, and it's my own damned hubristic fault. Unsuprisingly, the health practicioner was right about a health issue. Sometimes I see very closely and intimately into the ways of my former lover, no matter how unsuccessful it was or how lesbian she might be. Anger runs deep when it is ultimately directed as the self. Even betrayal, the one that slips me into fury beyond all reason, might spring from the thought of I hate myself for letting you.
I spoke of the end of the world recently, and the tone of arrogance and presumption that replied to me made me lash back. Assuming you can know or be comfortable with the end of civilisation seems like self-deception I cannot abide by. I lashed out, and it was said to me Why worry, at the end of things, you'll be fine. I know, and I hate it. I love the civilisation that keeps monsters in check. In the end, I might have to follow the end of things because of how little I would love myself or anything else in that new world. Perhaps I would have the strength to start something new, but I would remember the magic of light upon screens and the equality that technology brings and I would weep nonetheless. Post-apocalyptic paradise my ass.
I had a wonderful exchange with a beautiful woman recently, one that was so eminently reasonable that I could grin from ear to ear about it for a while. A bit of my thunder was stolen by Ah, I see, so you're capable of really functional sexual interaction with those you don't sleep with, but the kind of maturity, kindness, and respect that flew around gives me hope for the possiblities of sexual dialogue.
Perhaps I should have left it untitled.
Written On: Mother's Computer