I wonder if this works. I've been known for my technical incompetance. And my spelling errors. The title of my blog, by the way (Rachael), is not a spelling error but a word play: Spy, Pry, My, Cry, Dry, eye, I, die: isn't it fun?
I've been reading to write an essay on eroticism, and while for the first little while the whole (I wrote "hole" the first time but have fortunately found the error before I publish) thing was incredibly horny, it's become a bit depressing lately. Because the more I read the more I realise that it's not about innocent orgasms at all (is anything?), instead eroticism (or at least a lot of the stuff I've been reading) often revolves around notions of desire, desire which is usually far more complex than a desire for breast or sweat or wet. The erotic act is written as a desire to see, to scrutinise, to know the person you are eroticising. A search for knowledge which is horridly disappointing; no knowledge or enlightenment comes with orgasm. No matter how hard you scratch or how much blood welts.
That's enough of my essay, sorry about that, I'm still thinking it over.
Before I started writing today I deleted other stuff I'd written. I've been enjoying writing into this cyber void, a hole where no one knows to be listening for me. But the other day Erin (I'd link her but I don't know how) asked for my address and I wouldn't give it. Then I realised that it was probably a little unfair, prying into the lives of my friends who do write blogs, intrigued, curious and thrilled, without offering myself up.
So this time I'm writing with a certain world in mind. Don't think that world necessarily includes you, I simply mean a space which is not completely anonymous.
Maybe one day I'll be able to tell a friend my address. If I can work out what it is.
