grandfather

You are dead and I’m glad you died in your sleep.
The living are my concern but they expect me to show tears and distress.
I’m a kind of Vulcan and cannot demonstrate the same lack of foresight some do.
I know it’s OK and I acknowledge this knowledge.
I understand that this is a story like any other.
I know you would understand this too.

my soul is a pivot point

My soul is a pivot point. Even when I forget.

My soul is the point where the lines meet. (See it: the point of intersection.)

This explains contradictions.
They all lead to the same point
my soul
though they may point to different directions
my selves.

From some perspectives it may appear that my life is
NOT
going exactly as I want. Of course it’s not. It never can.

So I let go of expectations
and remember not to be too hard on myself.

Here I am, having failed a degree. Twice.

Which incidentally was meant to lead me to an academic career.
A fourteen year old counterpart started the narrative.
A mother seeking approval from the father while looking down on her mother
transferred this attitude to her daughter who transferred her emotional issues onto philosophy.
Now I understand why in philosophy I felt
elsewhere
I thought.

In any case there is a core of being — my soul — which is still just like the eye of the storm.
The rest is external and can go to hell.

I am bigger than my circumstances.
I am the pivot point.

give me sex please

I’m horny. It’s inconvenient. I exude this sex vibe which all men pick up. I’m like an animal sending out sex signals indiscriminately confusing males and myself. Men are now things that can fuck me. Take one of my secret crushes for example. The other day he was sitting next to me during a seminar and whenever he got too close or moved his hands a certain way I got turned on. Really. It’s that bad. But it’s been seven months and magic is happening. A negative: that I have an increased need for personal space and usually feel that people are too close, has acquired a new significance in my time of need: male in close proximity, must mate. I’m in the brink of returning to sluthood. A girl has got to eat.