One seems to hear words of good cheer...
I've been so passionate the last few days. Maybe four days. Between listening to lots of choir music and downloading pictures of beautiful women (I have a thing for the "tasteful nude" genre, I've discovered), everything seems kind of beautiful. I've not been completely at peace, but it's more than I can usually expect, especially during crunch time. This week has had me on edge as far as work is concerned; that I can be so happy is unusual. But good.
I think I'm skipping Harvey's class tomorrow. That'll be 3 times. Yeah, it's a seminar class, and no, I probably shouldn't skip that much, but it's Harvey. If I do all the work and write a good final paper, he certainly isn't going to fail me, especially because no one else shows up to class, either. And I shouldn't rationalize, but I'm tired and don't care.
Also, my body is desperate for attention.
I love the shit I say on this journal. I've kind of stopped caring about what people think of my increasingly lesbian sex-crazed entries. When I'm at New College, I feel like I'm in my own little world, and it's the easiest thing in the world to put up a link like THIS and say, yeah, I'd have me some of that. (No, I'm lying. I don't even know if I could do a woman as beautiful as Dariya without an emotional connection. Basically, I could: what I would have to do is make up a connection, something about how, by making love to her, I'd be worshiping the Platonic form of Beauty, and she'd be guiding my soul to salvation.)
And even, nevertheless, moreover, salvation is having been about to be had by means of lesbian sex having been about to be done by means of me and you being about to be sexing.
This weekend, I want to have a couple of drinks. And kisses-- God, I want those.
I think I'm skipping Harvey's class tomorrow. That'll be 3 times. Yeah, it's a seminar class, and no, I probably shouldn't skip that much, but it's Harvey. If I do all the work and write a good final paper, he certainly isn't going to fail me, especially because no one else shows up to class, either. And I shouldn't rationalize, but I'm tired and don't care.
Also, my body is desperate for attention.
I love the shit I say on this journal. I've kind of stopped caring about what people think of my increasingly lesbian sex-crazed entries. When I'm at New College, I feel like I'm in my own little world, and it's the easiest thing in the world to put up a link like THIS and say, yeah, I'd have me some of that. (No, I'm lying. I don't even know if I could do a woman as beautiful as Dariya without an emotional connection. Basically, I could: what I would have to do is make up a connection, something about how, by making love to her, I'd be worshiping the Platonic form of Beauty, and she'd be guiding my soul to salvation.)
And even, nevertheless, moreover, salvation is having been about to be had by means of lesbian sex having been about to be done by means of me and you being about to be sexing.
This weekend, I want to have a couple of drinks. And kisses-- God, I want those.