rinue | Whereforeword

Today, I slept with Patrick. This is not in any way an unusual activity - in fact, it is the official pasttime of the Trick Household. Our rabid interest in sex has rendered other forms of entertainment obsolete, and may bode a complete collapse of the home electronics market. We might spend more time engaged in bed than most people do eating.

I doubt this is relevant to your life, unless you are Patrick. Bear with me.

Afterward, sprawled naked across the bed and unable to move my legs or form words, a very strange thought occured to me. Roughly translated, it was, "how can I possibly do anything after this? What is the follow up?"

I think I have spent much of my life trying not to be satisfied. On a certain level, it's just that I like to improve my surroundings. If I could make something better, why wouldn't I? Satisfaction nulls drive, and without drive, wherefore creation?

Here I am, lying in bed, more relaxed and happy than I've ever been. Here of all places, I stare in the face of my greatest fear. The thing about climbing a mountain is you look down from the top and think, "where do I go now?"

This may be why some people OD on drugs.

I'm not all that scared now, not really. I still have my work; I still have my teeth. Tomorrow, my life will go on in valiant struggle for all that is good and noble. But as for tonight . . . I'm completely ruined.