i think that i've thoroughly freaked My First One out.

i let go and i was falling in love remembering everything and i was falling in love again, and fuck! the poetry. he writes with such knee-capping poetry because it's almost accidental, but you can feeeel each thought in each word.

and it's like we're all these kids in some dirty stephen king story, like "IT," where a bunch of kids come back together to fight the return of the clown in the sewers. we were lap dancing the clown in the ABYSS, and humping his shiny red nose.

stephen sayadian did the best and scariest nose-fucking scene in the arty porn, "nightdreams." filmed like a dirty noir, a girl's in an attic getting fucked by a guy in a mask with a loooong, scary nose.

my head split right then and there and i spent years tracking him down just because of that scene alone.
stephen had the same memories and we'd never even met.

i digress.

anyhow, it was like a lot of us moved on and it was all a dream, but when we see each other or get in touch, there's a moment of silence in the realization, "you thought it was an amazing time, too?"

we were all so smart. we were the progeny of folks affiliated with the college. even the janitors had sexual prodigies for kids.

yes, i think sex and humor are definitely related to intelligence.

for example, many of you probably think sheen's not that smart. he's actually smarter, but those guys are smart like mad dolphins. they don't speak in english when you confront them. they're likely to tell you to fuck off for even asking, because usually if you cycle back around to what they were doing, it usually comes back to them doing something for YOU.

i'm not kidding.

my father's like that. it's 70 steps to the final bow, and in that time, you'll be the one to foot the bill. but it's the INTENTION and you have to learn to SEE it.

like my father does all this because he really does want to make the world a better place for his daughters. but he gets caught up in the steps to get there and when i call him on it with a look, it's the only time he actually gives in to me. when it's about the 90 seconds to the car because that's EVERYTHING.

i don't need him to give me 2 constant weeks of staring at each other and calling that "keeping in touch." that'd be agony for both of us.

anyhow, my poor first one. he probably never knew my last name, and now he's surely googled me and in the fetal position.

to be honest, i think he went ahead and played with me because i was on the cusp of turning thirteen in about 10 minutes.

13 seemed to be the age that kept everyone around longer. 12 didn't even have the word "teen" in it.

and i remember i never actually told anyone. i didn't think it mattered in the least. but i do remember lisa always was sure to say it at the beginning, because i hated that. most actually stuck around but the ones i was interested in stayed away.

there was the guy named "brad" with the green eyes and the porsche. i didn't care about the porsche, i thought it was ugly, but it was how i knew he was around. black men with green eyes were...

well, if you don't know, i won't explain it to you. they're like unicorns everyone wants to impale themselves on.

pretty eyes can make you lose your footing, make you lose everything. so you've gotta be careful with eyes and take responsibility for all that you call to yourself with eyes.

and when lisa told my first one my age, i think he was lifting weights and i was staring at his back and i wanted to claw her out of the picture but i looked at him hard and soft and all the primary colors i knew, in between. and he reconsidered for a moment. but something about the soon 13 and he stayed.

he was the one. i'd spent years planning this.

and in hindsight i cry because i've always had more holiness than i knew i even had at the time. i thought i was slutty and fast and wrong but it was sweet and hot as hell. it was RIGHT.

and when i read his letters now, the letters we were too in our hot and sweaty faces to WRITE, i fall in love all over again and i see this shit is timeless. everything you did in the past is here in the NOW. fuckin' hell, it's trippy.

it's made my first time even more magical and richer to see who this REALLY was, but without the words, the time, the heart brake the bigger visions.

and for that, Life constantly knee-caps me with wonder. like "you're fucking kidding me. what's next?"

and i haven't a clue.

but i'm feeling really good for james and i feel confident he's on his way.

i don't know how you all do that internet dating thing. i'd rather go back to new york with my menstrual cup over flowing everytime i move, me bleeding through my costume in front of a room full of men on opening night and blow my lines all over again.

i can't imagine sitting across from someone i've never met and hoping they are the love of my life because we've met from a few words that i'm probably clueless about being my best assets.

i'm constantly surprised when i'm out there, what people say that they think makes them look amazing. i think most people make themselves actually sound like assholes. so that's when you have to see the condition of those around them and all those other little shows of respect (or not).

anyhow, you all are bad asses. i'm glad that i'm a natural recluse and don't want to ever have to meet anyone again.

that's the thing about being like this. people "appear" to me as they need me, and i need them. of course i go to a lot more work than an online dating profile. it took "flaming iguanas" to be lived, written, illustrated, published, toured, and then on a library shelf, for james to find me.

james wrote me a fan letter in the midst of the busiest time in my career, and there was something so elegant and PURE about his fan letter and i had this "feeling" that i had to know this person. that he was a total monster sweetheart.

and i couldn't have possibly even SEEN him in real life. in real life, before i got even more reclusy, only the loudest and most obnoxious people could sandbag me and wear me down.

and getting micro famous really fucked with  my sex life because it'd gotten habitual to keep my personal and very personal lives, separate.

so then i got to fucking people on the fly and i think that i was getting to be like one of those habitual old players who're great starters and can't finish a thing, and that's when james came around.

it's not as simple as all that, my pat reasonings. it's just wednesday and how i see it right this morning.

anyhow, the sky's finally on fire and i want to look out the window at the sun rise.

but i feel a new adventure coming on. i have no idea where i'll go or where i'll land next.

but i want no one to think of even googling me. i just want to smile and say, "my name's erika" and see what happens next.

things are better when no one has a clue who you are or where you both could possibly go.

but my toes curl with feeling love again. i loved the floor parts the best, but for visual memory, i prefer the morning i woke up in gloria's see-through gauze dress. i was shy. it was see through, but soft and if it were pragmatic and not like wearing motorcycle boots to bed, i'd wear jewelry around my toes, my ankles, my waist, my wrists, arms, neck, and in my ears.

so i love seeing bits of clothing on during sex, and so it was morning, and was i 13 yet? i don't care. in my memories, i'm still on the side of 12 and that shit is hot as hell to me.

and he's massively long and strong to me. and he's sleeping but i sucked on him hard and climbed atop and i remember how i got how all our little girl fantasies of riding horses were sooooo very badly misplaced because i was riding a god

and he was so happy, so sleepy, but so happy to be woken up by a girl with the gauzy dress from the night before falling off her shoulders

and i loved how powerful i felt watching him and trying to stay atop him on this rickety springy lisa's brother's single bed and my thighs were beautiful and soft and i was growing up

and i remember how beautiful he was when he came because we were in front of the window and with the morning light all these years i still can remember EVERYTHING even though it's actually one of my least favorite positions.

but i'd prepared. i wanted to be able to do anything and everything and be interesting. i thought to be an interesting lover was to be versatile. but now i see it's to be STABLE. to be present. to face its eyes and be taken over just by first names all over again like when we were kids and we found each other with hollers and mind reading.

we could mind read back then. we didn't watch TV. we watched each other.

and for that, nothing is wrong. it was magical for us then. and like in stephen king's "IT," the kids had to come back and face down the scary clown.

it's like we didn't fuck him into submission so we've gotta come back, too.

i don't know what's next.

but all i know is that i'm in love with him, with myself, who i was, who we ALL were, and who we actually are and CAN be.

god, we are all so beautiful. even when we think or act like assholes, there's usually the most holiest of reasons underneath.

it's time to beware of the ones who seem too calm, composed. they're the ones who don't snap because they're usually already very insane. i've had the long conversations with them. and yeah. they're the ones who end up on the cover of "time."

x