(no subject)

[xinjinmeng]

:
Reeds and mud, why do I deny myself sleep so adamantly?  Will one more hour of wakefulness actually reap the rewards commensurate to the day of disgruntled misery that follows?  And do I wear my anxiety on my sleeve, a brand that marks me as fragile, as ravenous, as desparate?

I find myself distant from others, as if we are too busy with our idleness for proper congress.  I hesitate, I flinch.  There was a time that my hand moved confidently, but now I can feel the stings of previous burns.

Been visiting an eponymous temple of divinity.  The opulence of religion combined with the rules of idolatry make for grand spectacle.  This particular one was some sort of fertility cult, along with elaborate rules for bondage and discipline -- the sort of decadence one expects in this day and age, I should suppose.  Such surrender has curiousity value for me.  I suppose I am wound too tightly to allow myself for the complete submission. 

In other news, a prostitute took offense with me for what she perceived to be a lack of manners.  I am somewhat amused.  In retrospect, in the spirit of jocularity I may have spoken in an extreme degree of familiarity ... but if one cannot crack wise with escorts, when can one?