We are boyfriend/girlfriend

…butterfly in the sky
I can go twice as high
just take a look
it’s in a book
the Reading Rainbow…

Last night AC and I decided to use a new word to describe out relationship. Now, instead of seeing each other, we are boyfriend/girlfriend. She brought up the point by saying “What would you call us?” and when I suggested that seeing each other was really obsolete and should be replaced by boyfriend/girlfriend she said “Good…that’s what I thought, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

We talked a lot, stayed up all night touching each other. AC and I feel comfortable together. Tomorrow night I’ll meet her parents. It was her idea to stop by EFX next weekend while she’s home and surprise Julian. I told her she was awesome. She told me once again that my hands were amazing. We talked about sex. She asked my what my limits were; “Do you mind if I go down on you? she said. I told her I would like that. She said “Are you sure?” I told her I was sure. She went down on me. Later on, she said “You don’t have to answer this.”—“Go ahead.”—“Have you ever had sex?”—“No. Have you?”—“Once.” And she went on to say that it was with Zach (W—, who lives down the hall in Biddle, the hall I live in. I mentioned Zach in other writing, mostly unfavorable, from last quarter. Zach and I eat dinner together semi-regularly, and show each other our computer art), and that she regretted it some because it meant something to her and it didn’t mean anything to him. We talked about Zach, and she told me that he had tried to commit suicide by shooting himself. She said that if he wasn’t suicidal she would probably be more angry with him. Understandable. She asked me if I was waiting to have sex until I was married. I said no, explaining that I was just naturally very cautious and careful, that I was very aware of small chances like getting AIDS or making someone pregnant, perhaps more aware than the chances deem/necessitate/require…[?]. She made me cum twice in one night and she herself has never had an orgasm. I said “Really?” and she said “So now I’m a charity case…”—“No, not a charity case, but I want you to have one. From now on, that’s my job, okay?”—“That’s a good job for you to have.” She said that last night was the closest she ever came, and that is good, but I want her to feel the top. When I was touching her she kept grabbing my wrist and trying to pull my hand away from her, saying “Stop. Stop it please. You’re driving me insane.” I did stop, eventually. I am thinking about the psychology of having sex with another person. You have to totally submit yourself to the other person, trust them as someone who you can let make you completely powerless. When I cum with AC, convulse and shake, writhe in unbearable good, I am at her mercy. I said that to her one time, “I’m at your mercy.” I don’t think I can have sex with a person I do not trust. Clearly I trust AC; I trust her a whole lot for the length of time we’ve been together. Not that time alone ushers in trust or closeness…but intimacy does take some time. “Twice in one night. And I just want one.” The first half : she said that with a tone of power and satisfaction, and I don’t mind that. It is her job, as she puts it; it is her position to be one with power over me. I don’t mean psychological leveraging power, but simply the power to make me orgasm. And the second half : I want to keep going when I’m driving her insane. When I was doing that to her last night she was clutching me with her arms and legs, grabbing me, biting me, curling her body into mine. I feel like that when she makes me cum, like I’m totally hers, and I want us to feel that way toward each other. Sex to me is a total openness, it is sharing that which is most intimate with someone else. It is giving, relinquishing yourself to another.

Lastly, I am happy because AC and I, both, thank each other for time and energy spent. Thinking of a relationship using that model is wonderful to me.

We are boyfriend/girlfriend

AC, AC, AC…that’s all I think about

AC, AC, AC…that’s all I think about lately. It’s early Thursday morning and I’m unhappy that my sleep patterns are all messed up. I want to work regularly to advance my goals. My nighttimes have been great lately, but my personal daytimes…lacking. I’m not succeeding in the ways that I want to. Not all of them. This relationship with AC is developing very well. Last night we talked for four hours at Perks. Tonight I went up to her room and we made out standing up for a long time. She is sleeping here tomorrow night. We go well together, enjoy our time talking and hooking up. Trying to leave and do our separate works tonight, I said, “It’s the most fun game…” She said, “I know…” I said, “You never want to stop playing.” When I was leaving she said, “Think of me”, and I like that very much. That is exactly what is happening, exactly how I see things too. We are not together now, to each other have died a tiny death, but she expresses her desire to be remembered in our short separation, to take up space in my thoughts when she cannot occupy my senses. I admire the honesty of her request, the truth in it : it’s the greatest thing she could ask of me, no greater admiration exists in absence, and I am impressed that she should request the attendance of my energies in the fullest form they are capable, but not pretend to require anything more. Requiring all that is possible, desiring nothing impossible.

It’s the modesty of her request that I admire. She recognizes that remembering her while I sleep is all that I can do for her tonight.

After six hours of sleep I find myself in ECON 103. Walking over here I was inspired by the weather and the sky…now I sit in a building too hot and boring, stuffy and artificial.

Just now in communication I got frustrated and approached disturbing the class…making Megan laugh and disturbing her. I wanted to yell, or walk out of the class. Instead I pulled a book and started reading. I was able to tune out the teacher and find peace for a while. People talk too much, do not spend enough time listening. The sun is coming through the leaves and windowpanes to my desk pre-philosophy, and it makes me feel like I’m in a garden. Warm air, green trees, bright, crunchy apples.

—You don’t spend enough time listening.
—Well, okay…but listening for what?
—I don’t know. For what to listen for.

Okay, here’s the deal. I will settle for nothing less than having it all. I will do whatever in the world it takes to obtain perfectly the end I desire. I was just outside looking cool, playing Frisbee on College Green with my sunglasses. Brian and I looked like pilots from Top Gun, and Top Gun makes me long for a life of the exquisite pleasures that are born only of the shrewdest discipline.

I’m going to make a list here, each item in the form “I will…”. The rules for the list play against each other in an electric juxtaposition, and are as follows. (1) Everything that in my wildest dreams I see myself doing, I will write. (2) Everything that I write on this list, I will actively and obsessively work to attain; I will attain everything I write on this list.

I will raise eyebrows. I will jump out of a plane. I will make a billion dollars and spend it all on other people. I will be compared to Shakespeare. I will write movies. I will direct movies. I will be a millionaire before I’m twenty. I will write philosophical books that get translated into other languages. I will learn to dance. I will have a chiseled body. I will learn a lot of math. I will make unbelievable scientific discoveries. I will learn how to swim freestyle. I will learn how to dive (without holding my nose). I will be excellent at pool. I will revolutionize education. I will be completely honest, real, straightforward, and truthful in all my dealings. I will learn C++. I will have literally thousands of friends, people I know on a first-name basis. I will always continue to struggle and grow, but I will have an overriding peace, a deep ease and profound sanity. I will do everything as simply as possible, think as simply as possible, and generally be a simple person. Not complex, not playing psychotic games that tangle and twist, but WYSIWYG, cards on the table, clear and simple. I want to get an Oscar, and go in jeans, and for my speech say “Thank you.”.

AC, AC, AC…that’s all I think about

She kissed me

I am in a very good mood today, save for being a little tired physically. I had a good night with AC last night, slept with her, got up early to play pool, and have been attending my classes since.

After lunch I went upstairs to get my socks from AC’s room and she kissed me. We lingered for a little while before I said I had to go back to real life. Don’t you hate real life, I said, I hate real life. And yes, when compared to the fantastic, impossibly good, and when the same expectations are applied to the real as to the fantastic, the real can seem pale and lifeless; but I don’t feel that way now—life seems fine and bright, lovely daytime. Course, I look forward to night when it comes.

Here it is, the transition is upon me. The movement from one place to another. Tonight AC asked me the specifics about which days of spring break I’ll be in Philadelphia. Turns out she’ll be working the days I won’t be gone, but that’s okay. The most important thing in that little interchange is that she’s thinking of our relationship as something that’s going to last, for a while. Good, so am I. I have enjoyed the daytime today, reveled in its brightness, been ecstatic with the bonds between Ashley and me…and I told her so, told her I thought things were going wonderful… She said she loved waking up with me this morning, and that of course reminds me of Nadja, her saying how she thought it would be wonderful to lie with me forever…to sleep and wake up in the same bed…Ashley and I have done that. A different kind of connection exists with AC than it did with Nadja, but a strong one nonetheless. God, I must not underestimate the effects of such living language on AC or myself. We are creating great security for each other, finding in each great comfort and certainty.

The difference in the connection lies partially in the things each of the women and I have in common—the things we talk about. Whereas Nadja and I talked about mathematics and poetry, Ashley and I talk about acting, film, and fortune. There are wonderful things about both of these people, and I feel I could/will have lasting relationships with both of them. I know some of my writing is against this, but who cares? It is fun to compare and contrast. Ashley and I are sexually more mature…there is more of a give and take than with Nadja. Nadja wanted to pleasure me, and did touch me and kiss me in my ears and even lick my nipples, but AC makes me stop pleasuring her to enjoy the feeling that she is causing in me.

She kissed me

Sex in the dark

Comparing the relationship between the sex in the dark part of a relationship and the coffee and conversation part of a relationship with the relationship between dreaming and waking experience. The metaphor shouldn’t be taken too far, but when I think of laying in the darkness with AC engaged in intimate yet anonymous sexual play, it seems to possess an unreal quality, a dreamlike, dark, fantastic quality that contrasts the sobriety of waking conversation. I think as Ashley and I get to know each other better the sex becomes less of an anonymous thing and more of a revealing, intimate one. This anonymity is not something often described. I think it is as simple as the darkness in which the dream takes place. The first night AC and I were together, we did many many things with each other’s bodies, learned a little how to communicate in the language of touch, became aware of how each other responded to various stimuli…but the next morning when light came through the window and it wad time to say goodbye, all awkwardness in the spoken interpersonal world was not removed. Tonight as she and I sat cross-legged, vis-à-vis, outside of Baker Center, I enjoyed feeling our conversational relationship strengthen…and I know that the next time we have sex these physical intimacies will reflect a fullness, completeness of care and knowing. I will know more about the other parts of the life of the person I am touching, and that will make it different. More like having sex in the light…touching someone with a more complete knowledge of the fullness of her self. Mystery is good, though, anonymity has value. Sex in the dark lets you fill in all the unknowns with good things, whatever you desire. It allows the mind to more easily perceive the situation as ideal, banishing the influence of details like a facial blemish or the necessary association of a painful memory. It is important for relationships to allow some element of mystery. The partners should always hold a sense of wonder for each other. At the stage of the relationship between Ashley and me, there is plenty of room for wonder. There is much we do not know about each other. But even though it can appear that wonder is diminished as people find out more and more about each other, I believe it can increase with such knowledge as well. Consider the progression from having a crush on someone you’ve never spoken to, to having gone out on one date with that person. Your sense of wonder has decreased in that there are things about that person you did not know before that you do know now, and therefore do not wonder about. Your sense of wonder may have increased, however, in that you are more admiring of this person, after having had a bigger taste of who she is. Or…the things you found out made you want to know more, or something. I’m too tired right now to keep thinking, but I would like to explore further how wonder, mystery, and fantasy can increase as a relationship progresses. (Not just an interpersonal relationship, but also a relationship of scientist to field or artist to subject.)

You know what I find extremely romantic? Tonight when AC and I were on our way to Perks for coffee we both stopped at the MAC machine. When I was getting my money she came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me. I love that shit. I want to do the same for her, to make her mundane doings intimately comfortable.

Sex in the dark

I have not had sexual intercourse

This gave me quite a shock when it was happening. I have though a lot about it, but am only now writing. Saturday night, something happened to me that has never happened before. Ashley was fingering me and she took my penis, leaned it out away from my body, and brushed the tip…in the entrance of her vagina. It is hard to choose my words here, because my verbal interpretation of what happened determines whether or not I’m a virgin. This is so multifaceted. Desire should be mentioned, desire I felt then and feel now. Do you know how much that makes me want you? I told her she was cruel, when she did that; she did it three times, I said only “cruel…”. Another aspect : I mount her in her panties, press my penis into her vulva, into/around her vagina, only through her panties. She pulls me closer, can I say we fuck?, etc… And I’ve always considered the typical definition of virgin absurd, it has nothing to do with the nature of sex or love, in my opinion. It is fair (in the sense that most people would agree with me) to say that I have not had sexual intercourse, but I think I can judge the nature of sex nonetheless. I’ve given and received orgasms, and sexual pleasure in general. Sex and the sexual is such a continuum. Some things are mildly sexual, some things are intensely sexual. And there is no necessary correlation between the [mild…intense] continuum and particular acts; it’s different for different people at different times. So I have in mind something I would like to do : I would like to take apart the meaning, the power, the force behind the word virgin. I want to dismantle my concept of virginity. I want to stop trying to make that finite differentiation between opposite sides of the virgin fence. I’m taking apart that fence. There is no sharp division in sexual activity. There is only the sexual. So to answer the question (for myself) of whether or not I am a virgin requires me to select a specific definition of virgin, of which I have several close to mind, several conceivable points of differentiation, several different sets of essential qualities of sex. Continuum is even a wrong way to describe the relationships between different sexual acts, because continuum implies a continuity, an ordering, a hierarchy or a sidearchy…a nipple rub is not more or less sexual than intercourse. I can’t compare them. I don’t even want to compare the sexualness of my particular experiences, don’t want to decide between two acts which was the greatest or most intense. Stop comparing value. And as far as answering the question of virginity from others, I first considered answering it like I answer the question of God. What do you mean by virgin? But that has the possibility of getting me into conversations too personal. For the general public I think my answer will be George Lucas’ “I won’t answer that. It’s too revealing.” For people like AC, people with whom I’m intimate in sexual ways, I will tell them my truth in their language. –Consider answering the God question like I’ve decided to answer the sex question.

But don’t. Whenever you write, whenever you think, whenever you progress in any action, cut new brush, break fresh. Never repeat what you’ve already done, but continue to push into newness. Don’t rely on the certainty of past assurances, constantly conduct new tests, find new limits and break them, make yourself new all the time.

People marvel at the exceptional. We are amazed at unusual cases, people who score perfect on their SATs, who make themselves billionaires in spite of adversity, or write brilliant drama at a young age. These are the prodigies, and I aspire to be among them. To be extraordinary, unusual, impossibly good. Such accomplishments are reached my equally unusual means. Obsession. Eccentricity. Or maybe obsession, eccentricity, and brilliance are all three the products of a more central core. I remember in Sister Damienne’s class (last year, when I was a senior) when we talked about brilliance, and when the word eccentric was defined somebody in the class asked if I was an example. Sister Damienne was so nice; she really understood me, and allowed me to be that (which I was). Funny how one part of a school can recognize me as unusual but the other parts cannot do but put me through the usual paces.

The narrator voice in my mind speaks of the young boy as a commodity trader, briefly remarking about the price of sugar, then relating the days earnings. Can you really make money like this? asks Mike, the RA (resident assistant). Well, says Matt, I made $400,000 last week, I guess you could call that money.—It is, it is about a sense of worth. Do you realize how happy I would be if I was making money out of my ass? If I was in business for myself? If I could freely roam the globe and not feel limited by money? You know what I’m going to do as soon as I can…I’m going to take a trip all by myself to a far, lonely corner of the globe, and there I will experience a wonder epiphany. I will embrace my aloneness more fully than ever before, will stamp out every little piece of expectation for God or parents, bow to the Mysterious, come to trust myself completely, to divorce myself from external leading and marry myself to myself.—I may never be able to get married. That is okay. It has just been banged into me that you should get married. Well I’m getting rid of that belief, the idea of marriage in general. Literal marriage, yes, and also metaphorical marriage? Like what Julian and I have? I think that I want to get rid of that kind of marriage, too, and magnify another type of relationship in my mind, friendship. Partial commitment, large or small, with some allegiance to others, some allegiance to self. Anyway who cares

I imagine myself setting up the perfect living space, next quarter. I will purchase apartment space in downtown Dayton, buy lots of computers and communication equipment, a car (what kind : a white Porsche convertible)…I’ll take Christina for a ride and we won’t get in an accident. We’ll go to Ben and Jerry’s with Julian, and then we’ll drive through Hills and Dales real slow. Julian can move in with me and we’ll buy that VW Taxi. He can compose music all day and get famous playing all night. He and I will dine out six nights out of seven, three with other company, three without.

I have a fortune cookie here that says “A good neighbor is one who neither looks down on you nor keeps up with you.” By that definition, my hallmates are half good neighbors. They do look down on me, but they don’t keep up with me. I am sitting at the computer, writing my 700th email message this quarter, communicating with the world and making contacts there while six others sit around the Nintendo 64 playing Super Mario Kart endlessly. Not that I look down on them, but I envision the following scenario is not far from the reality I experience now : I make an incredible business deal. They are jealous and amazed. “How did you do that?” they ask. And I say : sit down and follow your passion, act to make your wildest dreams come true. Go to the computer, or the telephone, or the easel, or the track, or the airplane, and come back 7000 messages later, 70,000 miles further down the road than you are now. Attack your desires passionately, seek them with vengeance, and don’t waste any time or energy. You get out of life what you put in.

I have not had sexual intercourse

the Original

down from the count
moves backward through mirrors of restless
to escape the typical
the previous
that which has been done
like prime numbers
deeper and deeper
in handsome cracks

the stark
and Original
the frighteningly unconcerned
the immoral
hybrid alien sociopolitical

toxic alternative
the other drink
each more typically original than the last
hypocritically weak

the mass-illiterate flaunts the archetypical
beats the path of nomadic wind
forgoes the find
to search the seek

the Original