Friday's here.

And how do I know this?
No, not from looking at my calendar.
Hm.
Actually, I have no idea how I really know.
but that's not really the point...
the point is:
I'm supposed to dish out something erotic-ish.
bleh.
It's hard to write about sex when you've just been...uh.
satisfied.
well, for me it is.
I had some cool thoughts going through my head,
but instead of writing them down, I acted them out.
then we watched Cape Fear,
and i can't stop seeing DeNiro's face.
I spelled that wrong, but fuck it.
or maybe i didn't.
anyway.
my neck hurts.
i feel dry and gray and empty--
of words.
but i couldn't sleep, so i let the magnet pull me to my favorite position.
this machine owns my sorry ass...
I really do have an addiction.
I really will write something separate from here, soon.
something secret and private--
something for just me and my hard drive.
...and maybe a backup disk now and then.
i will inspire myself in the morning.
mmmm....or, more likely....
I will sit back and let my muse wash over me like a warm shower...
he is the reason I have words, the muscles in my fingers, the electric pulses in my brain.
he is the sky, the moon, the sun.
he whispers in my ear, and shouts in my face.
he peels off my clothes and kisses my skin.
he resides inside me, and yet i see him everywhere i go.
to find one's muse...
is...
rather like finding one's own heart.