i am not lost

it was about 2 in the morning when i awoke. not from sleep, per se, just awoke.
it's been so long since i felt like "me". i took my long green dress out to the garage and debated about the safety of my little excursion, but pressed forth nonetheless. there was only about 2 inches left in the less than airtight glass bottle, but certainly enough fuel for at least two burns. i took my virgin staff, the red and black taped one i got for last year's birthday, and soaked each wick for a minute. that should do it. i walked out past the ridiculously brown hedge separating our duplex from the neighbor, and flicked my bic. the wicked roared to life, nearly singing my hands and i grabbed for the center of the tape. the staff is about 5 feet long but has 2 inch wicks that burn like a motha, so away we went! i can smell the charred flesh and burning bushes still! i walked quietly to the center of my suburban street and started to firedance for the first time in a year. it felt rusty, slow, awkward at first. then my grooves returned, easily in a rush. the fuel roared in my ears, i squatted and fought the night with flames, jumping and striking out for a good 5 minutes before they gave their last light and i was covered in a long forgotten sweat. it was a joining of worlds, a bridge between the old life and the new. i welcomed this with a glad heart, and remembered that i am not lost.

youporn and the porn in my mind

i went online tonight, looking for a little something exciting to wack off to. i flicked through a few videos. most of this was spurred by a conversation i had with a close friend whose fiancee has become addicted to porn and it made me think about my own relationship with it. there really isn't an addictive bone in my body, come to think of it. i've always been able to drop whatever i want-whether it be smoking, drinking, meat, sleep, a person, etc. then, i thought more deeply on the subject and realized my own brand of porn is something i've experienced in real life. it doesn't come with pixels and slutty chicks with fake boobs. my porn is a movie reel in my head. is it so wrong to still feel connected to these memories? perhaps this is my addiction-holding onto the past. there have been amazingly powerful moments for me; in the forest, under the moon, on alpaca furs with orange candles, on my kitchen counter, in the morning looking up at the sky through the redwood trees, secretly in sleeping bags, standing behind a tree at my parents, in lake michigan with the sun setting and red wine in my veins, in a snowy cabin...many magical sexual moments! it is more or less my connection with my lover in these moments that i look back upon and get turned on by. synchronized breathing, deep moments of base human experience...it seems like the most divine moments of my life. these gritty, sweaty, primal moments are what i am missing. the ethereal aftermath, the quietude of being met on the spirit plane while our bodies writhe in an ancient dance. it is my most basic need, one i feel unwilling to live without. yet here i am, finding myself craving something that feels out of reach. so, youtube it is. blek.