Journal entry a year ago today

 

I just had sex and walked thru the park. A big guy digs into a tiny cup of ice cream, the expensive kind. The serving is almost the size of a walnut. He doesn’t share it with his sister. A girl sitting on a Sunday bench pushes into her boyfriends shoulder and points to her phone in front of them and says .... welcome to washington state park. A kid who looks like the latest guy on the cover of rolling stone who has an audience of mostly women and says he likes trying to figure out what kind of song they like - the guy who looks like him in the park has a messy tie and bushman hair and Irish skin. He fake kisses a guy whos wearing a smudgy satin robe with the word “bride” smeared on the back of it. The chess players stay fixed on their sentry focus and I think about the bee that was bothering me earlier who was almost the size of John Belushi. 

The sex didn’t really cut it in a big explosive near spiritual kinda way I coveted. He was nice. At one moment, when I looked up at him while tying my shoes, I heard myself think - wow, he must have been very sexy once. The touch and taste and smell and sight and sound were above average but I still wondered, all these decades and years and months and days, hours, minutes. seconds later - I still think about and want something beyond what I have encountered and experienced. Sometimes I think I know what it is - to be a cord or rope or a rod of invisible rock steel metal. The hardest? The last thing in the universe to perish. And I ask myself why do I want this as I do. Do others want it? Do they get it?  Will I ever?