the doggy days of summer.....

i realize that i am now obsessed with sex: unequivocally and relentlessly so. i see sex everywhere i go...or i imagine it everywhere i go, i'm not sure which.
this morning outside the steps of my dorm, two dogs are fucking and i get hard.
outside the campus entrance i see 5 couples french kissing and crotch bumping each other and i get hard.
(i could very well have imagined all of this, my vision is often blurred, my crotch often inflamed with the stench and infection of millions, even trillions of dead sperm cells)
on top of all of this my ex (an auto mechanic no less but a freud reading and comprehending one...hersh is an emotional volcano..one minute happy, the next pissed...ok, ok: a classic manic depressive. but when he was sweet and on there was no one better to me in and out of bed) has been calling me: it's as if he smells my panic and sperm heavy testicles all the way from santa barbara.
he says he wants to come to nyc, he wants to make love to me. he misses me. he says he made a mistake booting me. i said: huh? i booted your crazy ass, hersh! (not a particularly savvy comment from someone in my chosen profession but i can't really be held responsible, ya know?
anyway, i get several texts from hersh a day but he is as far away from me physically as i am close to bob. fuck, bob: what to do?
is this what love really is? is deprivation the way to redemption? what? am i becoming a monk for the love of bob? is being 35 (soon to be 36)as bob is, mean that you can really control everything in your life: sex, love, career?
i just don't know. is it shallow to want to wallow in the physical love of your man?
there is a movie, the black narcissus with deborah kerr as a nun in africa or some such country and all the nuns are hot for a sexy, daisy duke wearing though very sexy english dude who has eyes only for kerr. kerr, always the epitome of reserve and devotion to god ignores him. towards the end of the film, all the other nuns go into a kind of whirling dervish dance: discarding their clothing as the dance progresses to a macbeth/witches stirring the pot thing and the screen goes black...this is the 1940's after all. anyway nothing much happens. the catholic church packs all the nuns up and sends them back to france or belgium and everyone is better for the experience except kerr who dares to wish and hope that she gets to see the daisy duke short wearing english dude again.
so this is how i feel: like kerr with the dd wearing english dude as bob. this probably makes no sense and i actually don't care. take the last paragraph as you will, my friends.
anyway: the part of my life of which i do have complete control is my education: all is a-ok, going well, going as planned. i have made some great friends and am going out tonight with a couple of psych dept friends to drink and dance. bob will plan his lesson for tomorrow. another thing: except for when he works out, bob never fucking sweats! it is hot and humid here in nyc and i sweat like a pig, bob doesn't: he is so self controlled that he remains dry and composed. i often just lay my head on his lap and smell his crotch. lol: i am ridiculous, huh?
so tequila and diet tonic and dancing should help tonight but if the vampires show up, i may be in trouble.
peace,
tyler

Music: check out my ipod thing to the right. listen: this is the stuff i like and listen to every day.