Why clog the blogiverse with more tales of unusual sexual habits?

It’s pure selfishness. The brain’s machinations need airing without the real-world fallout from revelation of non-traditional relationships and physical interactions. Thoughts sometimes crave somewhere quiet to be expressed, reflected upon and interpreted.

Forcing the mind’s niggles into firm thoughts on the screen can clarify feelings and illuminate the why that results from the what of stumbling across this lustful universe.

Recollections and reflections might strike a chord with readers of the future, but there’s no pretending this purging is for altruistic reasons. Everyone is free to read, validate, repudiate or add their own twists to this kind of diary but ultimately it is one person’s version of life.

Perhaps thinking and chronicling is purely an act of discipline. I like discipline.

I don’t like writing. It feels like lugging vowels and consonants from the heart, wrangling them and obsessing until they resemble what I want to communicate. But I can’t stop. Like discipline.