Other than Jolie I don’t’ recall any hint of staleness regarding sexuality with anyone. If I were really into art, I would imagine that art would never get stale – there is always something new to create or discover. The same with literature and writing. There is no staleness possible in a realm of infinite possibilities. Sex doesn’t end. There is no one experience to return to over and over or get used to. It is always different, and not merely different, but intense and a reverie and bliss and loving and violent and hard and soft and and and and and. It isn’t just anything that can sit next to the word “just”. My god, it is fundamentally valuable and important. I am mystified why so many people just fuck for 10 minutes, come, and be done with it. I am baffled and angry that more people don’t move deeper and deeper into sex and become God. That is what it can do. How can becoming God get stale? I’m struggling to put my finger on why passion has grown and not grown stale with the women I’ve been with. I honestly don’t think it is because of spending less than a few years with them, as even that was not always the case. Something about respect for what sex is, but that’s not all of it. There is mad important passion in looking in a lovers eyes and fucking – it is full body prayer. That only gets more intense, not less. For me, and for my lovers, that is our experience. It isn’t merely anything that can sit next to the word mere. And habits? I have never used the word habit and sex in the same sentence. Sex explodes – there is nothing left over that is merely a motion or a groove. It isn’t something that is done. It is something that becomes bringing one closer to remembrance. It is inherently fresh. That isn’t hyperbole, to me. Sex is fresh mind, like meditation is fresh mind. There is no such thing as habitual meditation – meditation is being fresh – otherwise it isn’t meditation. Same for sex, except that sex is so powerful as to make one become who one is much easier and with great physical and energetic reality. Kundalini and love – what are they? Who are they? My God, my dear God. A fantastic rush of kundalini up the spine, looking into the eyes of God your lover, violent spanking, the woomp woomp of bellies mixing energetically as love mates. There is no way to experience that and habit at the same time, as far as I know. Not 10,000 sex sessions, not a million. Tell me if I’m wrong.

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