Lent: Day 3 in Reiwa 6

In the 6th year of the Reiwa Emperor.
March 7th Julian Calendar

Thursday was a pretty good day. I got up, finished my immigration paperwork, went home, and got a lot of work done for the ol’ job. On my way to the immigration office, I had a great talk with my cousin, though it wasn’t nearly long enough.
I was in that hungry-state-of-mind that Lent is so good for, but the supplement that my boss gave me helps to keep me alert. It’s a lot better than mere hunger. Though even “mere” hunger is quite good enough for me. It’s just . . . not having the fog is nice.
I had a dream last night, a rather memorable one, and my body reacted to it. A very VERY unusual occurrence. For years, in younger and dumber days, I’d pray for such an event thinking that it would help to relieve pressure, but . . . it just felt a mixture of nothing and gross. I think that I have a healthy idea of what sexuality is and should be for, probably, the first time in my life. Not as entertainment or as therapy, not as an outlet or as some kind of aesthetic. No, it’s an expression of love between two people. And even in a dream, it can be inappropriate. It made me consider the kinds of things I’m exposing myself to, and that I’ve got to be more careful going forward.
It’s easy to joke and it’s easy to parody. One of the hard lessons I’ve been learning these days is that simply because we can parody something does not mean that we should. Parody is so fun and so easy, and that’s really the problem. It’s so easy to use something simple and merely clever to rip the meaning away from something far more meaningful and beautiful. Nothing is as easy as vandalism. And while some people may claim that there’s an artistic quality to vandalism, and maybe there is sometimes, I think maybe I’m a poor specimen to say that what I do is “art”. In the same way, I’m reminded more and more of how . . . frankly gross and unappealing flagrant oversexualization is. It reminds me of Papa John’s pizza. You don’t want it until your face is in it, then you consume the whole thing and feel gross. Knowing it’s gross the whole time. I hope that with my next girl, I wait longer to kiss her than I waited to strip the last dozen.

When love is not the goal of love but lust
And lust and love and equally for sale
It comes as no surprise that people must
In search of one again or both to fail

When forgeries and fakes are our desires
and vandals make the galleries their home
no wonder that we burn with these strange fires
and eyes and hearts and hands with malice roam

But with a bit of time and some of prayer
I wonder if we can restore the earth
And bring about a clearing of the air
‘till all know what the all of all is worth

It could be that it is too late for me
But still I hope that others may be free

dreaming of a girl
counting fireflies at night
is not what I dreamed