01.31.12b
we were each allowed to ask the other for anything
& in fact he would insist that i ask
i was not as good at asking
by which i mean i’m not as good at knowing the things i want
i know the sensation of wanting but it’s childlike
animal
the cry before the word
unformed
& so for me increased satisfaction has been about discovering explicit facets of my want
but then also sometimes dismissing language as irrelevant to bodies
i think i require regular sex, though
nearly constant sex
to feel a part of that sort of discourse or dialogue
because now i’m lapping hungrily looking at boys in sweatshirts who aren’t old enough to drink
my needs become more about brute force
like again an animal
when yr starving it is hard to appreciate good food
you just want anything
it’s possible i can’t approach sexual satisfaction except in the context of sexual saturation
-from the other J, re: is sexual satisfaction possible/real?
Lately, the throb of monogamy. The infrequency of familiarity and two people with preoccupied lives. It’s not enough, it isn’t often enough, I told myself. Despite the literally transcendent nature of our sex. But then to realize: it’s never been enough. Even during the times in my life when I’ve had the luxury to do nothing but fuck the entire day, for weeks on end. It’s never been enough. Sexual saturation. How little quality has to do with what I seem to stare toward. The dream of obliteration through the fuck.
