THURSDAY
February 12th, 1809
born: (Shrewsbury, Shropshire ENG) Charles Robert Darwin. Publishes [1859] "Origin of Species," explaining speciation via natural selection - evolution - as descent with modifcation.
FRIDAY
February the 13th, 2009
MYTHS are for KIDS.
Happy 200th, Darwin!
-and happy 186th this past January 8 to Alfred Russell Wallace: the guy who wasn't afraid to publish his results in under 20 years. *Thanks for having some balls, Wallace!
..god! it's nice out today.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
wow
This came out as one solid thought, so don't blame me:
SERIOUSLY, I just want someone to talk to me - rumble those things I want to hear, paint me a picture that makes my heart leap out of my chest and into my mouth - until I cum in my pants, convulsion with satisfaction in their arms, my mouth and their mouth encircling each other in a constant, throbbing dance. And then to die the little death.
Man, I love a lot of people right now, and some of them say really great things to me: some intended specifically for me, and some more generally stated that just make everything in me well up to the point of intensely stimulated arousal. My whole body feels like a vulva someone has been rubbing against. And all we've been doing is TALKING (and sharing).
Not sure how much longer I can hold back the tide, but appropriateness needs to be considered, not to mention the fact that not everyone is a sapiosexual (or, rather, it's an unconscious secondary sexual preference for a lot of people). Probably doesn't help when people are *fuckin' hot,* but AREN'T THEY ALL??? I mean, after *I* talk like that I feel like a beaming, pulsating rod of hotness - and I'm more like all that and a whole semi-truck delivery of Frito Lays, extra greasy, than just the "bag o' chips." blahdy blahdy blah. I'm just primed as hell, and there's no good free, feminist erotica I can find, so I'm on this verge where I'm gonna start humping my own arm here in a minute until, I'm sure, a hallucinated body materializes from my bed sheets.
Wow. I need some physical release.
I should go running again sometime soon.
SERIOUSLY, I just want someone to talk to me - rumble those things I want to hear, paint me a picture that makes my heart leap out of my chest and into my mouth - until I cum in my pants, convulsion with satisfaction in their arms, my mouth and their mouth encircling each other in a constant, throbbing dance. And then to die the little death.
Man, I love a lot of people right now, and some of them say really great things to me: some intended specifically for me, and some more generally stated that just make everything in me well up to the point of intensely stimulated arousal. My whole body feels like a vulva someone has been rubbing against. And all we've been doing is TALKING (and sharing).
Not sure how much longer I can hold back the tide, but appropriateness needs to be considered, not to mention the fact that not everyone is a sapiosexual (or, rather, it's an unconscious secondary sexual preference for a lot of people). Probably doesn't help when people are *fuckin' hot,* but AREN'T THEY ALL??? I mean, after *I* talk like that I feel like a beaming, pulsating rod of hotness - and I'm more like all that and a whole semi-truck delivery of Frito Lays, extra greasy, than just the "bag o' chips." blahdy blahdy blah. I'm just primed as hell, and there's no good free, feminist erotica I can find, so I'm on this verge where I'm gonna start humping my own arm here in a minute until, I'm sure, a hallucinated body materializes from my bed sheets.
Wow. I need some physical release.
I should go running again sometime soon.
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