Scribblings

There's a strange sensual over confidence that seems to stem from youth. Not the original shaky overcompensation the first time, but that strength from simply a few superficially successful tries at the animal act. Under 25 kids seem able and anxious to show that they've accomplished this. Only in this age group can you go to a party and find them fucking on a couch like in some ancient rite; people all around a dark room ingesting strange euphoric herbs some watching, some dancing, some barely aware. 

The difference is back then, when man was young and naive, there was a purpose, get fucked up and find a purpose, find God or Zeus or whoever. But now we don't seek God, we seek unity. God isn't even part of this sordid picture. We only want to be together, to be part of something. You drift through the house, or the room or the neighborhood or wherever hoping to get so blessed high so fucking gone that when you grab that bitches hair or slide into that dudes lap that you can't tell if its really you. Hell it could be that girl you came with or that guy down the road and it doesn't really matter because in a few days no one will give a fuck. . . and because they aren't sure either.

Maybe thats why we can fuck right in front of each other and not even notice. We're all young and smooth,  thin or thick, but beautiful because of our freshness, because time has yet to brand us  with wrinkles. Maybe its the wrinkles that stop us later, like when you whip straight cream. At first its smooth, fresh, easy to pour into any container, any situation, easy to mix and move. But you beat it, sharp fast movements and it thickens and soon wrinkles grow and form. Thats a bullshit metaphor.