Train of thought, or, Coming on a train

I got sexually excited in public today. I was reading Yukio Mishima’s “Spring Snow” on the train into Shenzhen, one of the few opportunities I have to sit down and read. It was the passage where Kiyoaki looses his virginity with Satoko.

Mishima is an amazing writer. I have memories of things I experienced through his characters that are as clear and real as my own memories. He’s not a comfortable, casual read. If you let your mind wander you waste your time. He commands your attention and expects you to be involved.
Anyway, I always wanted to do it on a tram; and public places like museums and libraries and shopping centres make excited. All those people passing through, that murmur of language, all those souls, make me want to throw someone down on the floor. But not in public, not with people watching. I didn’t like it today, absorbed in the unfolding of Satoko’s kimono, her thighs, her hair … and the really large man sitting next to me pressing against the side of my leg and back. Kiyoaki’s half-naked body and the rain beating on the roof of the annex … and the stranger clearing his throat next to me, making me check if the swelling in my jeans was visible or not.
It was weird, it grated against my sensibility, but I don’t regret it, I won’t forget it. I just regret the person next to me wasn't more desireable.

Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout love

I had the idea a long while ago to freeze-frame pornographic videos and draw them. I never really developed it far, but I still like the idea. I’ve had a nagging feeling about sex and love recently – how the two are so interchangeable, but I’m sure they’re not that related. Love is just a moral concoction to allow fucking in civilized society. The reality is that a swollen cock thrusting into a juicy pussy is the best part of existence, and it’s made that way because nature insists we select and procreate. The idea that I’m being manipulated by something outside myself makes me mad, and makes me never want to fuck again. Really – I know the game: passion, that overwhelming desire, that explosive wanderlust that comes with being in the arms of beauty. Nature, you fiend. Am I just a cog in your wheel?

Constant Nagging

Hey G. If I only had the balls to remove my balls, I’d be free from all this nonsense and be able to get down to business. I do, sometimes, also worry, though, that by removing the incessant distraction I’ll also remove the drive that provokes me to do anything of consequence. Man, I hate being half animal, half god. Dogs and deities have no idea how good they have it. I masturbated this morning to get rid of that constant nagging. By this evening I was back at it again.