Naked and spectacular
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Quinoa Blessed
2017

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2010-03-27

The lover of my life

  • I have created an identity that I am bound by, to a certain extent, and my task in life has become to make sure everyone understands this identity. The extent to which I identify with this entity changes. I often feel unable to masturbate frequently enough. Sometimes I just want to wank again and again all day, but there's not enough time in a day, nor enough stimulation to excite me. Sometimes I go outside and want to pull down all the boys' pants and see their bums. There are moments when all I want to do is bum-fuck every beautiful boy I meet, one after another; and other moments when I'd rather penetrate someone's soul. I'm not sure what a soul is but there's definitely another level of communion where neither person is using the other for anything, like sexual satisfaction disguised as intimacy. How is it I spend so much time satisfying the most superficial and banal perceptions of others when the best of them are waiting, like me, for the slightest cue of the acceptability of profound communication; because we are brothers or sisters, as we have always known. But how embarrassing to suggest the vulnerable beautiful prospect that we are all family.
  • I am scared of who I will become when I remove the veils and the masks. I know I won't be as weak and inconsequential as I currently appear. I will be forced to accept my power and deal with my dharma. I currently cannot so who am I behind the veils and the masks because there doesn't seem to be anything there, except perhaps existence. Perhaps not who I am but who I will become is a good question. As I continue to shed my superfluous skins I become more powerful and more present. I find it increasingly difficult to engage with certain aspects of dominant culture but increasingly easy to relate to diverse persons of various species. I have a strong urge to head out into the world alone, to find my destiny and in the process allow myself the freedom of completely recreating my identity to fit whatever strange and wonderful circumstance I find myself in. In this way my identity becomes fluid and travel prevents any fixed people expecting certain modes of behaviour from me; however friendships come and go, never staying longer than I can sustain a personality.
  • It seems odd to me when I walk the city streets and feel a familiar stiffness of self-consciousness move through my body, a hangover from adolescence, to feel completely at ease and comfortable with this awkward embarrassment. I have no shame of my body nor of pissing in front of other men and yet when I stand there in front of the toilet with my penis in my hand nothing comes out until he turns away from me. I don't mind so much that I may be shy or awkward in certain situations because I am rather fond of myself in general. I have been living with this self for over 25 years now and much of the development that has resulted in my present reality has been deliberate. I love now to take off my clothes in front of people or to discourse openly, and will take any opportunity for either. However I live in a society where expression of self is severely restricted and even the basic, natural and inoffensive act of taking off your clothes is not allowed. There is only so much of yourself you can accept when much of it cannot be shared.
  • The manner in which I feel like I love myself reflects upon two truths. One is the nature of reality. I love myself because I exist. If the only reality I can experience is the one in which I am present then what possible reason could I have for not completely accepting and loving my whole self? Can there be any benefit in opposing reality? The second truth is about the nature of love. Love, by definition, cannot exclude because exclusion is not love. Love by its very nature is inherently unconditional. I cannot love myself if I do not love all of myself and I cannot love myself without by extension loving the environment I find myself in and all the beings in that environment who I share my life with. With a precise understanding of words and a deeply felt idea of what we use the word "love" to refer to I assert that love surely extends to all life and everything that is in existence. How is it possible to love yourself and not the neighbour you must share a moment of each day with? How is it possible to love an aspect while denying the whole of your person? How is it possible to experience love at all if you don't love reality, what actually is?

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