coffee break

well, second most.

live simple. sounds easy but really, can you? before you draw another breathe and insinuate that it is so, i dare you to live without the very computer you are using to read this entry.

life is complicated as we know it. and ironically, as we move along and get a little wiser, we complicate it even more. we work 40 hours  a week, even more at times, to have the means to make life easier for we. we sweat blood laboring the days to finally have enough means to buy easy living. but most of the time it is that wanting for an easier life that makes it hard. a paradox, a conundrum. you need to wok extra hard to buy time with a ‘professional’ whose advise always read, take it easy cowboy, you’re not in a race. eehh? now you tell me?

life is a race. life is complicated, unfair and will beat you to a pulp when you least expect it. and yet they want us to believe that life is not mean. i know now realize and fully understand that life is what we make it. there is no zen or new-age class that can teach you what life is about or how it should be. in our thirst to make a meaning out of everything, we are left wondering and feeling unfulfilled. why should it mean something? there is no generic, cookie cutter, cardboard layout answer to it. you are not here to leave a legacy, to donate schools or help starving children.t now that would be cruel, setting expectations before hand. but it doesn’t mean you don’t have to help others.  as i see it, to make life simple, you just need to live it. no expectations.

listening to:  
Josh Groban – Josh Groban : Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)

ne night stand. quickie. fuck and run. the kind that does not require a last name, or even a name. just a smile, nod and wink and boom! your bed, or his whichever is nearer and available.

hat is so casual about sex? letting that person in your apartment, giving glimpses on how you live. you walk pass the living room, complimenting the big ming dynasty vase you inherited from your angkong; trying to make small talk in an akward moment going to your room. inside, a perfectly made queen size bed with a hypoallergenic, 500 count egyptian cotton bedding and goose feather pillows you ordered online. sharing a bed with another person, in a confined space adorned with stacks of books you’ve collected your lifetime and tall zen lampshade wrapped in recycled paper with dried leaves and wild flowers. you locked the door, from behind he reached for your waistband, promising in your ear a goodfantastic shag while slowly working your crisp, white, italian linen shirt off your body. joni mitchell singing in the background from the day when you were reading your book of the week while sipping a glass of pinot, set to muffle the would be sounds made.  and it start, nibbling ear lobes, sweet, tender kisses that turned into passionate kisses, eager hands exploring each other’s body. all clothes are off, 2 naked bodies in unison. no pretensions exist between, only the wanting and lust. kisses led to moans, and to another, and to another until you reached pure bliss. for a brief moment, you showed this other person your most vulnerable; reaching your climax. lying in bed, sweaty against the cold breezes of the air conditioning unit beside the bed. you both get up, and started to get dress. the guy saw your pictures by the vanity of your recent trip with your boyfriend, hands wrapped around each other, kissing. he asked where it was taken while zipping. zurich, you said while putting on cologne from one of the bottles beside the stack of cds at the vanity counter near the armoire. in 2 minutes, both of you were completely dressed. making your way downstairs, pass the living room, to the main door, in complete silence. and he was gone.

ow casual is sharing a bed with another person? it’s difficult to tell, i can not speak for other people. the casualness passed at the time when you let other people in your life. when other people knows something about you, those small details that make you you-how you tie your shoe lace, your ref magnet collection, that patch of hair on your right thigh-you have crossed the line of being casual to, something more than casual. it’s iffy, he knows too little to be a friend but a lot to be just acquaintances; the in-between. but for most people the casualness of a quick fuck is not knowing the other person and the probability that they’ll never see them again. is that it? are we now reduced to wishful thinking of inexistence? haven’t that guy just gave you the best eff-ing of your life? to some, it’s perfectly sane to exchange dna, not names.

guess that is why i am still celibate. i will not be a notch on someone’s list. nor will i be a wishful thinking of inexistence. some people have casual sex because they can, to some it’s about living large. me, i don’t see anything casual in sex. only the illusion we want it to be casual that we believe it to be. smokes and mirrors.

listening to:
Affirmation – Savage Garden: Two Beds And A Coffee Machine

it’s me, it’s 2008 and it’s time for changes.

this year is all about me. hear me out, this year is ME.

listening to:
Velvet Rope – Janet Jackson: Together Again