Sex IS Boring


Sex has been boring for me for years.  I’m just not sure when it first started.

I’m also not sure if having sex with the same person for years could do this alone (because that’s powerful and evidently equally awful) or what?

But the only people who find sex exciting are those who aren’t having it often, those who masturbate because they have no one, are desiring people they’ll never be (never sit with, talk with, smell with…you get the picture)  “with” in real life, married the wrong spouse, settled in on marriage, hate themselves to begin with, need intimacy and validation to earn their worth and SO MANY other shit.

Point is when you’re having sex, when you’re intelligent, when you feel one with yourself, the less thought, needs, energy and desire are spent on sex.

But society, and the horny person, and my best friend’s hot girlfriend is well, telling me I need sex and therefore I crave it.  BOO-HOO!

But this isn’t my point..I was just kidding about that…

Not sure where it’s started..the boredom with sex.  But let’s say one of them was being with my partner of 8 years (on and off exclusively, 40 mile or 40 minute (in car), 3 hours (in bus and 2 trains) distance relationship).. what would this mean?

It means…it’s inevitable for someone like me…and…

I don’t feel like getting into this subject anymore at this time.
My publicist said STOP!

Ms. Hall

Came A Long Way


I only know how to live life and find out more about myself through fear.

I’m scared of everything!  There’s not a thing I’m not afraid of on this Earth.  And though I present a tough exterior, I’m a softee deep within the fibers of my body.  But I’m well-guarded with spikes around the edges.  This works for me.   I won’t change this.

Some of the things I was always afraid to do alone seem to be just as harmless as petting a mouse.  But getting myself to perform something as simple as traveling to a store solo was like pulling scabs off my knees.

My anxiety would fume.

Some of the things that would be hard for me to do back in the days:

Ask for what I want at a counter, market or a store.
Sit down and have a meal at a diner or pizza shop all alone.
Making phone calls for appointments or calling out for deliveries.
Being loud, laughing or showing emotion in public.
I wouldn’t travel to the corner of a street or go to school solo.

These things would frighten me.  And all I could think that might have started such a mess in my head was how my family kept me sheltered from the world.  And in this shelter it was safe and quite comfortable.  So once I started getting older and peering out to the world I found it was complete madness and anything could happen.

Nowadays I’m much better at keeping the anxiety at bay.  I still remember the first time I had a slice of pizza at a shop all alone.

I did it!

Pennington

New York Train


New York is a place I can’t stand!

Sure there are fun things one can only do in New York like watch a movie at a theatre around 1am or buy a porn video at 4am.  But truly and deeply, I dislike New York because most people are rude and tougher than the ocean itself.  It seems being remote and on-guard is my best bet, until further notice of a person, place or thing.

By far, the worst is the train.  And besides the MTA overweight, slow and horrible complaining workers, the people traveling in and out of the Subways somehow suck worse!  (How is this even possible?)  Dealing with the folks on the train takes me back to elementary school.  Where I’m on my toes as the foreigner bully starts to pick at my cafeteria food and race card.  It becomes a jungle!

A jungle of pure madness when people won’t let you exit the train for your stop.  This due to the asshole folks who want to enter the train as quickly as possible to collect a seat so they can dazzle in on their IPhones or simply maintain their shitty posture, hip and knee obesity problems.

I told a friend of mine after this stylish man with a huge keyboard left out of the train:  “I can’t believe this guy!  I gave him space and he kept taking up the space I gave him to the point of breathing the stitches down of my jean jacket.  What gives?”  My friend who’s obviously male and a prick tells me:  “You just have to be an asshole and never give anyone space!”

And, though I understand that this is one solution.  This doesn’t fit with my personality very well.  I carry myself with dignity in public.  I also like presenting a friendly aura, which can be mistaken for my being passive.  And with this, I don’t think it’s bad.

Pennington