It seems unimaginable to consider how being alive with positive desire in the sense of an overall sensation of pleasantness had at one time been long ago felt. The interminable grayness of modern society had erased its presence from my vicinity. It was not so much an absence by design as a mass hysterical condition occasioned by forces that I had long railed about but whose very mention merely served at this point to drive one further into despair. A syndrome that perhaps only the proverbial donkey in Cairo could really appreciate. Love and physical attraction seemed to be attached to an implicit bargain much like that of a streetwalker. A good time was promised but never somehow seemed to materialize. The only relief in this clime came from occasional scrapes with those in their youth and firmly rooted with their fresh hopes for gaining an eternity of what I inwardly knew would surely be so soon lost. This rampant cynicism of mine own was only brought to ground in such circumstances by a self-imposed silence on all matters pertaining to ague of my own experiences. The imagining of a true deep love for someone else brought on only the grating presence of its opposite. A pain wrought from un-scrubbed thickening scar tissue sharply impeding upon long exposed nerves less preferable than the practice of professional numbness. Certainly not some heroic drama’s result expectant of sympathy but rather the sedimentary onset of sand within the tender interior of a progressively calcifying shell. Where TV and corn syrup derivative comfort food worked for some, the veil of abstinence and the illusion of its progressive therapeutic value was my own particular refuge.
A vague notion rested like so much other old and disused articles of furniture in the attic of my longings. A certain young Miss who worked at a local establish whose calling card as a suspected young waif brandished a form of attraction that wormed its way into the warmer corners of that cold firebox that no longer could bring heat to the heart. She was something along the lines of a fleeting glimpse of cool gray eyes nested under toe hair mounted within the graceful symmetry a long lithesome youthful frame. A visage that could portray a stern sense of longing from the immediacy of disappointment with a volatility that would launch those same features into the warming beauty of an irresistible picture of joyful giving satisfaction. As with all gamin her wardrobe bespoke a utility based upon the meager fruits of contemporary industry and toil that had become the standard within this land. Thinking back to times past even in this very same place, there had been others holding similar interest but none so engaging. This perpetually delayed hope for connection stayed moored safely within the impossibility of the gulf between our ages. I always had ready words to fend off any attempt at boarding and conquest. What her attraction was to me to continue to endure my oldish patter extended past the usual topics of monetary recognition for temporal services or my providing the mirror for fatherly recollections. At least that is the unchangeable truth that acted as a balm to assure this continuation of this fantasy. One of the old geysers who rated the eternally brief instants of a warm and tender hug as it might be bestowed int he Biblical sense of prodigal son or eventual redemption. Every morning I along with others became part of her project to make an offering to the unseen spirits of felicity and goodness. Every morning I could think about how for that same instant I could surrender the gates to my empty citadel and risk the knowledge that their was nothing inside that was noble enough to repay such a selfless impulse.
I could only consider how in those carnal moments of youthful passion now dimly recollected, of how empty the climax of physical congress felt or rather did not feel. A vast desert beyond the instantaneous flash of pleasurable physical sensation and then the inevitable question of “why” and “what for?” This contemporary daily coupling a safe denial to the title of one who has embraced total abstinence of all around me save through the safely gated causeways of the intellect. My assumed position as “Professor” a handy rapier to quickly dispatch any questionable challenges to my presence. This form of petty mental aggression my only ‘raison d’etre’ for taking up space within this constantly transforming common space where the morning habit of imbibing bitter herb had become my greatest excess. To consider how absolutely vapid my present tense existence had become seemed unimaginable when each new dawn brought on the decision for another wasted gallon or two of gasoline to be offered to the crumbling altar of safely dispensed desire.