Too-ree-ay, too-ree-o, too-ree-ay, too-ree-o

With a mind that renders everything sensitive, what chance do I have here?

I managed to take a break from playing video games and watching episode of Sex and the City (the only activities that adequately dull any anxiety but also feel comfortable without the need for too much concentration or effort) to actually have a conversation with my girlfriend. It wasn't necessarily long or expansive or moving or...enough. But it was nice start, and more importantly, it felt nice.

When you're near, I fear you, and I forget myself. But not this time.

I spoke of strange Virginia Woolf professors who wear berets and fishnet stockings. I told a story I've never really relayed to anyone, mostly because it's not really a story -- just an image I've held in my head for almost 6 years. Then I talked about my imaginary girlfriend with whom I was breaking up two years ago. Not an exact date, but it was around August 15th and it was a Tuesday evening...ish. Tuesday was our last evening together and she thought we'd already broken up but I didn't think it was official yet. It was made official the following Saturday.

I don't know why I give in, but I do every time. And here I am wondering why I did it again.

I can't pinpoint the last time I had sex with Karen. There was an occasion I know was near the end but I'm not sure if it was THE final time. I remember it was in her apartment, in her bed, and we were listening to The Roots's Things Fall Apart. Probably somewhere near the song 'You Got Me'. Though I never thought of her when I heard that song, prior or after.

Put an end to every dream.

I usually check out near the end, or when it's about to end. I stop paying attention to details and I start to emotionally remove myself, probably so it won't hurt as bad. But I do this sometimes even when it's not the end -- it's just a period of me checking out. I'm definitely disconnected, mostly to myself rather than to the other person. But of course being disconnected from myself puts the other a person a million miles away.

Too-ree-ay, too-ree-o, too-ree-ay, too-ree-o, too-ree-ay, too-ree-o, That's what I say to keep me going, to keep the shit away.

The difference is being able to check back in periodically. If I'm still able to do that, if I'm able to be present and enjoy it, if I'm able to see myself being present in the near future, than it's okay. I might not know when it will end, but I can feel myself moving towards it.

A Day In the Life of Aaron Austin, Amateur Porn Star

I'm fairly new to gay porn (videos at least) and I'm quite fascinated with the fact that all the bottoms are super hot and the tops are....eh. Just okay. Maybe it really is true that it's hard to find good tops. I'm also wondering if it's analagous to the whole "attractive women/ugly men" dynamic in hetero porn. I don't necessarily agree with this assessment since I'm rarely that attracted to the women anyway, and sometimes the men are so weird-looking that their hot (yeah, I know, we've covered this).

But I'm wondering too if it has to do with the concept of gaze -- bottoms are fighting to be seen by tops, to win their gaze, their affection, their desire to fuck.

I'm not sure where I fit into. Sure, I'm a top, but I tend to desire being a bottom with men more. Perhaps that's why I feel more comfortable in the bear community -- the gazers have a different standard, one where size and natural beauty are valued. But then I fear I'm not even hot enough by bear standards -- not hairy enough or not big enough in the proper ways. At least I feel like I'm in the same ballpark though -- sometimes among pretty gym queen hairless boys I feel like an entirely different species.

for my own purposes

According to Marshall Bowden, an uncomprehensice list of essential jazz albums. For future collection builing and educational purposes only. (But if you have any contentions with the choices, feel free to educate in the comments section.)

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surprise surprise, so you rub your eyes.

I'd just like to make note of the fact that it's 5 pm, I'm reluctant to go to therapy, and I have Urban Dance Squad's Deeper Shade of Soul stuck in my head.

All I have to ask is, of all the repressed memories to pop up on a Wednesday evening while preparing to make the Jungian journey, why THAT song?