look away!!

hell - 43
damn - 23
god damn - 5
pussy - 2
dick - 1
shit - 11
fuck -25
c<>t - 0

total # of posts: 481


When I was in middle school, I found Peter Benchley's original novel of Jaws at one of the many bargain bin garage sales my local branch of the library had. This was during an early surge of insatiable curiosity and avarice for all things storytelling. I had seen Spielberg's movie adaptation plenty of times, but I had never read it's source material.

It was a thick, daunting book that turned out to be a swift read. By the time I got around to reading it, at any rate. In the meanwhile it sat with hundreds of others, collecting dust on my shelf as I tore through library book after library book, often at the neglect of the ones I actually owned. But then my honor's English teacher offered us the chance to pick a novel to read for which we'd do an oral and visual presentation. I decided to go for this one.

I thought it'd be a breeze. I'd be able to tie it in with the movie, since my facination for film was advancing exponentially, during this time as well. But then I actually read it. And for a kid at that formative time, I was quite taken aback when I realized just the sort of elements Popcorn Steven had omitted in his version of the story. I can assure you there were certain key passages that found themselves read again and again, from specially dog earred pages.

When it came time to put together my presentation, I went artsy and nostalgic on the visual presentation by creating a newspaper from 1974 from scratch (no small feat in a time that seemed to pre-date everything I would use today to create the same thing), and a bit of a bullet-like retelling of key points of the shark tale. I skipped the whole matter of the sex, the nudity, and the graphic descriptions of things I had only begun to truly piece together. It became my dirty little secret from the class.

There is something thrilling about having an extra ounce of knowing. It's the excitement one gets from leaving the panties in the hamper when they go out or from whispering something off-color in a stuffy setting. Truthfully , it's our human ability to have whatever kind of thoughts we desire whenever or wherever we are. There's a gratification in that.

There are alternate, often unseen sides to most of life. I certainly think about that in context with this blog. I have been posting and posting pictures and observations for six years now. One could create a whole other page from all of the things left unsaid. There's so much buried within the phrases I have chosen or between the images posted. Somewhere between the combination of the two, the full story is transmitted.

More and more, especially over the better part of the past three years, what I've shared has been to the extent to what I would care to share. Fewer thoughts have been redacted. And it has taken me far less time to scribe the message. Words have flowed much, much faster. I believe it's because the life I live now has fewer barriers.

But then there's the pictures. My current series of images have just kept coming, as I end up snapping pictures nearly every single day. But still not everything seems appropriate for posting. Is it because this blog is still suggested for general audiences? I know a lot of people to whom the word mature would not apply, though they are considered adult. I think some of the concepts and ideas I spin here have a, pardon me, depth not found in most underage folks.

Is it merely the sight of nipples and not the suggestion that makes something adult?

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