Saturday, April 29, 2017

All The Wrong Places

Let's see here, what to take seriously? Sometimes my mind plays a random shuffle that mixes nuclear annihilation, loneliness and home intrusion. You begin in horror, panic. A stranger whacks you on the bottom so that you'll learn to breathe. Heck, everybody's a stranger. You're the smallest one in the room and you will be for a long time. Oh yeah, you're wet and you're naked, too.

Your consolation? A tit. Don't get too fond of it. They will ceremoniously remove your symbol of love and comfort and nourishment and call it weaning. Now that you can get used to. 

You will eventually be pried from your caregivers and placed in school where folks your size will attempt to socialize you with the supervision of teachers who are grown up strangers with a will to help you conform.

Biology will bring sexual awareness and ideas of romance. Those teachers will be ready to instill guilt and the objects of your lust will play roles in rejection and loss.

Of course I could go on with tales of loss through adolescence and middle age and finish 'er off with old age. Why bother? After "tit" it just all starts over.

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