Thank You For Your Sex™ – Lena.FM

I only know how forget and move on, lock them, scramble them in so that I can’t hear them. But the glistening squirrel eyes lurk underneath, waiting for a trigger–a film, a sound, a hint–and then they jump out and shout: “Surprise!” [...]

Enslaved people annoy me. Enslaved men annoy me. I don’t mate in captivity, and I don’t like to mate with captives. [...]

My association with Buenos Aires: A tall, all-dark Argentinian man, and a tall, almost-albino Scandinavian girl, ordering coffee, in Lhasa, capital of Tibet. And me, thinking about Julio Cortazar. I always think about Julio Cortazar, whenever I imagine Buenos Aires. [...]

When I love a man, tormenting him is impossible; when I don’t, I can’t help it. If it is purification through pain that the man is looking for, I can’t win with him. [...]

I need a face next to my love. Love, I was born with. Physical spirituality. Hands. God. Expressing my higher nature through the tips of my fingers, drinking the beautifully altered rays coming out of my lover’s eyes. No fear, pure art. No thinking, pure God. I need a face, so that I can be myself. Artistic, vocal, performing the act of giving and receiving as one unit of breath. I need a face next to my bottomless bag of gifts.

Just realized that when I was growing up in Russia, “underwear” was not sexualized in my culture at all. Underwear was a clothing item that everybody would put on first thing in the morning. And there was no “sexy”. Instead, there was “beautiful”.

Staying with somebody when it doesn’t feel awesome, just because several thousand years ago somebody said it’s a good thing, is silly. Being stayed with for the same reason is humiliating. [...]

And then the loneliness hits. I know it’s better this way, and my heart is singing songs of joy. I am listening, I am singing along. But this strange empty spot, that cube of air that used to be a person, a person with ears to listen to me… air is not a person. [...]

You realize that most of the things that you have taken in with your mother’s milk, are a collection of folklore. Random approximations, inaccurate statements seeded with a possibility for love. Kali Yuga is not a joke.

Your heart is visibly bleeding as your perfect self is absolutely calm and unshakable. You look around. You keep a tally. [...]

A walk in Midtown made me feel good about living in what used to be the 20th century and is now the 21st. If I were a happy spirit choosing a human experience, I couldn’t have chosen better, at least right now. Living in a big city is magical. Twisted, corrupt, but magical. Breathing in and out, living. In love with everything. Magical streets, magical time. [...]