Admit it... it was worth the wait.

Or was it?
A little anticlimatic? Well get used to it buckos.
This is the way of life.
First you're a pimply faced little runt with a fixation on the pretty flat-chested girl you can only pray won't stay flat-chested forever. And what've you got? Really?
You've got sweaty dreams of frenzied groping, or dreams of sweaty frenzied groping, or... awww hell, rearrange the words any way you want it all comes out the same...

She's the grail boys. She's your Dulcinea, your Quest, your Lost Ark of the Covenant (also known as your Found Ark of the One-Sided Rulebook for allowing the Levites to bully the shit out of the lesser Jew tribes for all eternity) the point is this: What've you got?

(Surely you remember that's the point. I said it just a few sentences ago. Remember? "Try to keep up, Wymer. And what's that? An ocarina? Well put it on the desk boy put it on the desk...")

Back to it... What've you got? All you've got is the anticipation, the dream and for that moment everything is only one step away from perfection.

That's right, perfection ---like the chance wind that raises a Catholic schoolgirl's skirt to reveal nothing but flawless buttocks surrounding a black thong and all that promises--- is always a moment away, a gesture, a word an action. This is the probability wave-form of existence I'm talkin' about here children. Can I get a hallelullah?
Can I get an amen?
We are creatures of motion. Our awareness isn't just OF motion... it IS motion... it is IN motion and doesn't know how to be otherwise...

-----howevermuch stuanch Republicans, knee-jerk, bleeding-heart Liberals and the great unwashed mass of thoughtlessly religious may seem evidence to the contrary. Don't be fooled. They only appear hopelessly mired and frozen in a stasis-pool of ignorance from the cushy ultra-light-speed vantage point of your own Warp-9 openmindedness and constant reflection and self-examination.------

Motion we are in. Always forward...
----except in Education where "Intelligent Design" adds momentum to the retreat of the public mind away from the onus of personal responsibility that comes with self-awareness----

...Always forward I say, never stopping, gliding from each moment of potential perfection to the next... and yet the moment never arrives, not really.

Why not?

Look down, kids.

That perpetual glide has us skating across the surface of a road paved and soiled with the reality that underlies all that potential perfection... the crushed and ground-down remnants of so many moments of promised perfection reduced to... what? So many sticky, stained and sodden candy wrappers, yellowed newspaper-clippings with headlines announcing bliss to be within reach, and the occasional sloppy condom, torn and half-inverted having served it's function one way or another, by "failing" or by succeeding.

That's the road. Brace yourself my fellow bastards. That's the deal.

Perfection is a waveform... but the waveform collapses.

Motion is what we are and the motion from here to there is the quintessence of ourselves. And that is why perfection is embodied not in the attained but in the attainable, not in the Now

-----------------and most especially not in the NOW that clutters T.O. landfills so a bunch of whining, mincing, myopic twenty-something jag-offs in boxy thick-framed "nerd" glasses...

(that they think make them look cool, when really all they do is reveal them outwardly for what they are inwardly: a bunch of trend-sucking, sneering, pampered, Bourgeois lick-spittles parading their fashionable feigned-angst to the world in the hopes that no one will notice they haven't the soul, depth or intelligence to actually know what angst is)

...can pretend to be "journalists" or "critics" who presume to enlighten us with editorials from the point of view of all those weasely little greasy fucks who were were always hovering at the edge of actual activity and pretending they were a part of it just because they were going to snap a pic for the highschool snotrag newsletter----------------

but in the Now that is "coming soon" "almost here" "could soon be".

So we move on...

...From an unattended-to blog that was potentially... well, anything (Insightful. Funny. The answer to a question we don't know how to ask) ... to this. Family Guy fart joke references and extended sexual metaphors.

From dreams of judgement-free and totally-accepting, flawlessly choreographed and executed acts of ecstacy (most likely to be found on the family-room floor while the parents are away) with that oh-so-pretty, pouty, schoolgirl, Goth-chick, ivy-league refined or strip-club sleazy Goddess of our wet dreams, we arrive at the fumbling, groping, awkward, drunken, cigarette-breath and body-odour reality of a vaguely feverish sensation, followed by a water-thin release and the desire to rationalize.

The waveform has collapsed.

This is all there is. The desire. The reality. The small disappointing death that doesn't culminate in the tunnel of light and all the gods' wisdom. And it's over.

This blog. Sex. Same deal.

It doesn't really matter if it isn't that good this time. Or even next time. I'll keep coming back for more.

Cause chasing perfection is what there is. And it's fun. Like bashing your head against a wall.

You felt good when it was over. Spent. Kinda dopey. So why not do it again?

I know I will.

I tend to be a randy little fucker.

TMcG