Life Munchies.

I've been really hungry lately.

Hungry for writing. Starving for time to work on things. Cursing the way my mind tires after hours of mundane editing. Desperate to remember that otherworldly elation that comes from laying an entire story down on a page without hesitation and knowing it is good. I've been aching to remember what it was like to have the time and energy to feed my writing fairies. Have them buzz about me like hummingbirds, feeding from my free-flowing soul. I spend my days searching for ways to clear my head by the time I arrive home. But it's never quite enough and I leave every blog and every story that I do manage to sputter out with a hungry feeling that if I could have just had a little more to give...that last sentence would have been golden.

Hungry for learning. Craving the pleasant swell of your brain when it gets to know something it didn't before. The pleasant tingle that can occur when the something you find out is very, very interesting. I miss reading others' words. Will I ever get to go farther in those Hemingway stories began elsewhere? A dear boy bought me a book that I love yet have barely started. I'm still reading a book borrowed this time last year. But it's not for lack of want that I haven't been reading or learning. The want rumbles through my insides making me imagine food hunger pangs. Until I eat a cracker and listen to a podcast while I edit.

Hungry for sex. Always thinking of sex. On desks. In chairs. Outside hotels. In a dressing room. While driving. While eating. During the rain. Early in the morning. After a bath. Before bedtime. Quiet and safe. Restrained and frustrating. Sweet and soft. Hard and frantic. I want to rise with sex every day and sleep in it every evening. I want to taste it on my lips and feel it in my thighs. I want to baptize myself in the holy, forgetful bliss it brings, and look at every day of my life as if I was just reborn again in sexual salvation.

Hungry for dancing. More and more, I want to look back on the dance I loved before I even knew what burlesque was. I want to explore the ways that a human body can feel when it gives itself over entirely to the experience of physical movement—outside of sex. I want to stretch for hours and have each day to discover another way I can move that opens this part of my spirit or heals that emotional wound. I want to dance through pain and revel in it through pleasure. I want to return to burlesque every evening, even more capable of twirling like a muse and taunting like a siren because I can feel all the way down to my pointed toes just how much I can control. I want to own my body and set free my spirit with the crescendo of a song.

But don't you worry now—curious cats never go starving. And this little kitten gets what she wants.