Kill Me Now.

Lately, my jerk off fantasies have run to extremes. Anihilation. Obliteration. Not snuff per say. (Yawn.) Far more creative. Think "Cask of Amontillado" and you're heading in the right direction.

At previous points in my life when this has cropped up, I've been deeply concerned. But now I kind of get it. It doesn't mean I'm getting self-destructive or depressed. I'm pretty upbeat and chipper lately. Rather, it means that I'm open--very open--to change. To rebirth and renewal. And 'Tis the Season, right? That's what the Winter Solstice is all about. Everything is dead or dying, but everything will be reborn.

Huh. A strange synchronicity that: my jerk off fantasies and the liturgical calendar. "Deep is calling on Deep," I guess.

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