23.Jan.2002

driven like the snow

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lost in the drift

Soft sex.

Soft sex to Sigur Ros.

I said I wanted to get laid like last Friday and I was laid like last Friday, with drama and tragedy and a heated, intense argument and surrender and intense yet weightless airy softness and then sex. Another connection made, another connection broken, half an hour of holding and the shit hit the fan, and he was gone, connection lost. Prediction for next weekend: The same. Distance. His pulling-away eyes. Argument. My words. Sex. Four hours of veiled elation and then connection lost.

I have no idea how much longer I'm willing to do this.

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time & machine