I have the urge to write tonight.
I want to write lovely words.
Words to inspire.
Words that reflect who I am and who I want to be.
However, the only thoughts that come to mind are the fact that involve a “trip to South America” (aka, the horrors of a Brazillian wax) and the fact that I enjoy “playing the skin flute” and would like to have a recital soon. Really, it’s true, all thoughts seem to be about genitals, mine as well as others. Access to them, conditions of them, fun with them. I’m usually not one to focus so much on the “nether regions” but this seems to be the theme for the day as of late. It may be out of sexual frustration or some hormonal surge. It may be that I am turning into a teenage boy. I don’t know what it is or where it came from. I don’t really care that these thoughts consume my mind, but it is simply hard to be an intellectual when all you can think of is “cooch-a-nannies” and “joysticks.”