That’s good information, right?
Feeling waves of pitifulness today. Pricklings of tininess. Tiny agonies. Vulnerabilities. A woman here triggers some kind of misogyny, but I let it fade. Let that recede. Another woman triggers lustful memories of a woman I used to know, or as per the biblical reference, I knew her. The woman here possesses a foggy resemblance to her but it’s not that. It’s the glow. SHe has the glow of a woman who gets railed nightly, fucked hard and long like the woman and I when we went at it 12-15 times a week. I took some sense of satisfaction, even pride, in seeing her with that glow. She looked very different months later, after it ended with us. The glow was gone and her visible foibles pronounced themselves.
The woman here fills me with memories of sex with that woman. I don’t remember a llt of myk sexual encounters but these were something else. Her body shook along with the walls of her cheap rental, which felt more like a mobile home than a full structure.
She wasn’t that long ago but it seems like forever sometimes. She had that glow when we’d walk around her city. She never came to New York. I liked her city. Can’t remember our conversations but the sex was legend.
Everything reminds me of something. This mind is an electric soup of noodles slapping against blobs of chicken against pellets of rice against mermaids and mannequins. Every word heard cascades into associations and synaptic lightning claps.