The wind is blowing and it's cold in the house. My toes are reluctant (they get claustrophobic when I wear thick socks and boots, thus restricting their wiggling abilities), but the rest of me is THRILLED! No more flowy skirts that keep air moving between sweaty thighs! No more slimy boobs and dingy bras! No more sticky t-shirts clinging to my damp back! (Fat kid sweat is a bitch).
I just got finished reading The Daily Siege. While I was slightly disappointed by the absence of oceanic porn (no octopus sucking today, kids), I did experience my usual urge to create. More specifically, the urge to create art and practice creating babies. The nudity on his blog does something to me, something more than spread warmth and cause a dull throbbing. The man manages to live his art, to take a piece of his day and prove its beauty. My days are full of those moments, those little bits that if I took the time to write them down, cling to them in my memory, do something with them, I could feel that sweet release of creation. Or, perhaps, it is more of a manipulation of the truth so that it makes things more interesting, but whatever the case, now is the time that I step away from the computer and do something worthwhile. My assigned reading can wait, right?
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