inklingfair Jeffrey McDaniels says it best in The Wild Cousin of Potpourri:
…I have to confess, my salacious
little Einstein, sometimes when your head’s
turned, I sneak a peek into your ear, hoping
to snag a glimpse of your medulla oblongata.
Disclaimer: The medulla oblongata isn’t exactly one of the more sensual parts of the brain – it controls autonomic bodily functions like breathing, sneezing, vomiting, swallowing, etc. The poem drips with inconsistencies and sloppy usage of scientific concepts – obviously the girl has the brains here and the writer all but randomly picked out clever-sounding words from the ether. “Brainilingus” is funny, though.
Anyway, enough with the nitpicking. This isn’t a planned post – this is a break from crunching numbers – I was going to write about thinking about sex), but I don’t have anything Memex Project-worthy to say about the subject right now except that I may be more interested in the context than the act:
Beneath the kiss itself, it is its meaning that interests us — which is why the desire to kiss someone can be decisively reduced… by a declaration of that desire — a confession which may in itself be so erotic as to render the actual kiss superfluous.
J says the next post should be about kissing. So I’ll let that simmer for a bit.
***
Revisting an old-new passion: letters. The other day, I woke up at 4 in the morning, because I suddenly wanted to find the transcript of a prophecy from back when I was 18. I couldn’t find a trace of it – it might have been an Ondoy casualty along with a couple of journals and my high school yearbook – but what I did find made me want to visit the post office again (wherever it moved – I don’t think the UP mail outpost is there any longer).
Apparently, after the last flood in the Dadap house, after I dried everything off and threw away what couldn’t be salvaged from the waters, I had crammed all my old letters and postcards into a pouch and forgotten about them. Some of them were ruined with runny ink (this is why messages in bottles should be written in pencil), and there were even a few pictures. First order of business: scan the stuff before the ink fades. Then write a postcard from Vietnam to Patty in Taytay (her letters to me were written using 0.3 gel pens with a tiny even hand) and one to Ian in Bayombong.
Some interesting letters:
Georgia O’Keeffe & Alfred Stieglitz
Jane Austen on her novel Pride and Prejudice
I’m lazy. Have at you.
Photo by David Matos on Unsplash
