Tuesday, September 20, 2011


I can't sleep. Its 3AM. And I'm not drunk. I am in love. And being in love means I live in fear of losing you everyday.

It is a realization that I must admit with no small measure of pain. I have wrestled with this, tried to ignore it, tried to beat it to the ground inside myself. Instead, it has resulted in a weakness. I have hung on to you. My heart has gone mad. I make irrational decisions. You, on the other hand, have accepted the situation with the equanimity of an old man on death row, calm in the belief that the end signifies a better, albeit unknown beginning somewhere.

But my chest is twisted at the idea that I will not be in that future.

And then there is him. The Other. The one whose siren call I cannot resist. He pulls me to him in ways that are unimaginable, in the dark secret places that breathe desire. The Universe conspires in the magnetism.

Weak. That is what I am. Pathetic and weak. I know that you love me. I know you have and will further defy deities, forces of nature. Beyond notions of juvenile romance, you do not fear the unknown. You are strong, have proven your strength while I am reduced to a foolish and vain shadow trying to hold on to forces going in opposite directions, knowing it is futile, knowing that the longer I hold on, the longer I hurt you. And yes, him, too.

I used to think that letting go is the path of the weak. I thought that holding on was fighting the good fight. I did not know that in doing so, I was making you the enemy, making you the victim.

Confession is not good for the soul. I see these words I have written and I see myself. There is no cleansing in this self mutilation.

Monday, September 19, 2011


Changing attitudes towards sex and love make for interesting stories, and that's what this blog is about, mostly. Its not about me. Its about the stories of love and sex and habits and myths and the sheer and utter loneliness that counterpoints all of it. Some people find that a groping in the dark, a simple need to connect with another human being can lead to all manner of strange places. Anonymity can sometimes bring about the twenty minutes of true affection found in some niche in a subway between to male prostitutes or twenty years of holding a friend's hand leads to some profound revelation of one's inability to tell between pure hatred and misery and a deep and abiding amor.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

The others all demand love from me. Love and sex. I can't give them either. I can offer only illusions. You would kill me if you knew.