the spirit catches you and you fall down.

they call it an aura, of all things. dogs can smell it. sometimes you itch, get vertigo, sweat. at the wake of a young dog, my nephew turned seven with a dozen or so electrodes on his head. they destroyed his hair.

there is a ladybug crawling across the screen of this computer. they have ceased to be beautiful. now they are only here until they cease to be. i tried to decipher their cultural meaning in an essay, but it came out to be about blowjobs, which would have embarrassed me if only i had the capacity. from what i hear, it's not such a bad thing that i don't, but just wait, you'll tire of it.

two people owe me comments. you know who you are. and I know who you are, so I know that you won't be reading this.

two theories:

1) sexual prowess is inversely proportional to dancing talent. this doesn't apply to the classically trained. it applies more to the general ability to move to music with rudimentary rhythm and grace. to your credit (i guess), there are plenty of ballerina's who can't do that. case in point: italians.

2) i'm beginning to think that even the most intelligent of my friends are christians. anyone who uses the phrase "beyond biology" should at least have the self-awareness to admit that they are no longer arguing reason. these people, of course, would be offended that i call them "christians," because apparently thinking that man is the greatest thing to ever happen to the universe falls within the realm of their proclaimed atheism (or, for the pussier ones, agnosticism). it's all the same to me.

okay, okay. i tire.