jan 10 '04

so there's a sort of tragic sex in which one party is unfeeling, fascinated with the ceiling, and the other, oblivious, is perfectly contented. last time, i narrowly missed this.

i did, however, give the greatest massage of my life yesterday. it was an opus. it began as a silent apology for a crime he doesn't know i committed. the longer i had my hands on his body, the more meness and himness disappeared, until there was nothing left in the room except my hands giving love and service to his tired muscles.

i don't know that it was sufficient penance. but it was good.