in all honesty, i am terribly attracted to the idea of a person that does not exist. he is a figment of some writers and an actor's perception of a "character." it disappoints me that i should still be so juvenile to succumb to such wild and completely ridiculous notions. and yet, it is right there in that [now not-so] secret part of my body where emotions and ideas well up and spring forth like new daisies in spring. i should probably have better things to say. i am aware i should have better things to do than watch television shows on hulu before i say goodnight. and yet, there are plenty of avenues that are much more dangerous than silly teenage crushes manifesting themselves in my early-adult life. perhaps this is a sign that i need to be more adventurous. perhaps i should divert my judgement from strangers' myspace profile pictures [and their inaccuracy in relation to their "typical" appearance] to more worthwhile endeavors.
the consolation prize? watching at least five [and mind you, this was while i was watching] grown men take digital images of a young lady's ASS-ets at a festival where too many bits were showing anyways, on bodies that should have probably not been showing anything at all [and PLEASE, stop with the "i'm confident with my body" bullshit. firm that shit up, dimple cheeks, then we'll talk.] i can only imagine what the futures of those poor pixels entail. lust, you can be terribly disgusting at times. i'm sure your own personal imagination need not work too hard to get the rest.
