Ah, if only moments/minutes could last forever. If only one could press an internal button in their brain to access something so...perfect? I was going to start with the beginning of my day, but now I must start with the end. Listening to "Moonage Daydream" (cover by Zen Guerilla..original Bowie song) and I WAS in a moonage daydream just briefly. Sex. Sex. Sex. Triple XXX Sex (without the cheesy sound effects!) We were sinking and melting into the bed and the candle wax was running all over the table, mirroring us. I know this sounds cheesy, but candles and sex have so many similarities. A cigarette never tastes as good as after sex. Standing with Jay on the balcony afterwards, sweating and stinking. The smell of sex is like lily-of-the valley powder for some odd reason (to me, anyway). Twilight. A great blue Heron flying over the lake. A beer happiness, a endorphin high, a constant klonopin euphoria. Perfect and I'm still shaky in the knees and its been 3 weeks. 3 fucking weeks. Why don't we have sex once a week? Why doesn't my libido remember these moments? It makes me sigh audibly, over and over and I must have dilated eyes, surely it is written all over my face how serene I feel now. Endorphins should be bottled!! Now the moment is gone and I can't keep describing it accurately. Oh well, all things must pass. Good and bad. Delicious. Even the lingering nasty nicotine flavoring of my mouth is perfect. It is a hot summer night, just like a stupid 70's song, but summer nights are better than anything (except crisp, leafy nights in late October). Oh yea, and did I mention that this morning I fell down a small flight of stairs (tripping like a trapeze artist over my clunky sandals)?? Just a rug burn on my shin, not bruises or broken bones. I feel like swimming in the dark now, but I think I am too tired. The best kind of tired. Goodnight!!

do the jerk * do the frug