These crazy memories in my mind..Budapest, Pannónia utca 34, rented bed, precious alone, self-pleasing, fantasies, and pretend. Foreplay around in my mind...
It's what I had/have in me...not so much the environment, the people, although they certainly play a role. My imaginings are better than reality? "Reality" eventually becomes mundane and belabored...
Now, trying to convince myself of my instincts--trust and producing.
Making conscientious blotches of ink in my notebook reminds me of college, Memphis. Mesmerizingly appalling or appealing? To the senses, to the loins. The things I used to write, confused and melodramatic...were they even honest? (Growing up in the music video culture, one never can be sure.)
So unknowing of my "place" or my needs, my body, my relevance. My relevance remains in question.
But, now I feel free... at least I trust myself against others.