||[06 Feb 2003|07:45pm]
Swedish massage from Germaine. Thought it was going to be a black dude but turned out to be a young Irish girl. I liked it best when she cupped my neck and face in her hands. Cool air on body, oil into skin, muscles rolling under her technical touch.
Sex, of which I do not speak
Shitting (second-best sensation, succeeding sex)
Shaking hips (it IS the hips) at T.T. Dance music in SF is usually ok but so rarely transcendent. Music nerdy examples of transcendent:
16B Featuring Morel - Driving To Heaven (Omid's Full Mix)
Aaron Carl - Crucified (Maas Michigan Bass Mix)
Adam Beyer - Remainings III (Dahlback/ Krome remix)
Slight desperation when sitting in Cafe Boheme, where bohemians such as myself drink coffee and discuss Marxism. Flipping through the Guardian feeling little to no interest in anything. I am stagnating; I have reach a local maximum and the only way to get higher is to get off this hill. Turkey, Australia, grad school, I don't know. Just that my apartment is dank and my neighborhood is run-down and I really would like to be driving to heaven with my eyes dilated and the traffic syncopated.