"Yoga creates extra blood flow to the genital area resulting in increased arousal in women and increased arousal & erections in Men. It’s also to do with Pelvic floor muscles which is strengthened by Yoga Exercises. Scientists found that just 12 weeks of regular Yoga Exercise increased arousal and performance in both Men & Women by an incredible 30%"

You would have to know how much doing Bikram is my go-to for sweating off sexual frustration in an ever increasingly intense cause/effect cycle to know why I just laughed out loud at that stat in the news. That's like my cure for the munchies is going to the popcornsmell store. Snort.

This is so cool.

SOL

Down there, said the woman. She was wearing a leopard-print skirt which flapped and tossed in the wind, and the flesh between the top of her stockings and her skirt was creamy and soft and in his dream, on the bridge, before God and the world, Shadow went down to his knees in front of her, burying his head in her crotch, drinking in the intoxicating jungle female scent of her. A fragment of nonsense bubbled up from somewhere in his mind: in medieval days it was said that a woman on top during coitus would conceive a bishop. That was what they called it: trying for a bishop…Let it happen, she said, her voice a throaty feline growl. Give it to me. Let it happen. And he came, spasming and dissolving, the back of his mind itself liquefying then sublimating slowly from one state to the next. Somewhere in there, at the end of it, he took a breath, a clear draught of air he felt all the way down to the depths of his lungs, and he knew that he had been holding his breath for a long time now. Three years, at least. Perhaps even longer. —Now rest, she said, and she kissed his eyelids with her soft lips. Let it go. Let it all go.

~American Gods, by Neil Gaiman






creep in a tshirt - portugal. the man

Virgo weekend love horoscope poem

"Love Start Ups (brainstorming)"

Date an Astronaut -
A dating site for people who want a long distance relationship,
who want to hook up but who have BOUNDARIES.
Mute Date -
A dating app for social retards and lovers of slapstick.
Date a Handyman -
@honeydodate she makes dinner, he does a chore.
There is a need for more post-illusion
practical options.

Dhani Harrison - All About Waiting

Here on this blog, I dis card. Everywhere else, I just HOLD.

Learning all kinds of stuff. Like because of the growing number of aged 65+ people taking to a lifestyle of vehicledwelling permanently out of necessity, craigslist is a camper-rape culture, especially regarding housing prices and conditions. A sweet van listed at 16k is really 160k. And a Scamp listed is not real at all, just luring people. Listings that I had bookmarked were mostly bait of some kind. Because the world is brimmimg with awful people. (i.e. it is not just my picker) There seems no way around that fact. And it is very seriously bumming me out.

It isn't just my picker that is broken.

When I am not working or childcaring relatively content, my time is spent dreaming of escapes. Looking at van and bus conversions I could skadaddle in anytime, everything I need on my back like a turtle. Smaller houses and mortgage repayment tables, dreaming of getting off the credit grid entirely. Physical manifestations of feeling as little as I owe and vice versa.

The man cravings come and go like strong bouts of hiccup. And then I go back to studying existential escape routes. 

watching 'The Last Man On Earth" (seriously lol)

http://www.agirlandhervan.com/where-am-i/goingsolar

“Re-examine all that you have been told...dismiss that which insults your soul” —Walt Whitman

metric - why don't you find out for yourself

brandi carlile - everytime I hear that song (by the way I forgive you)

Minister of loneliness. Huh. There's an idea. Loneliness is as bad for you as 15 cigarettes a day. Loneliness is the new sitting is the new smoking. But in the states, we might need a minister of underlying causes more. Like a Minister of People Are Assholes.

Be honest with yourself. Are you excited about your job? Your house?  Your spare time activities? Your appearance? Your relationships? Your future? If you won the lottery tomorrow would you quit your job and change your whole life?
~How to Have Midlife Crisis
by Catherine Searle
(answer key: mostly, mostly, mostly, good enough, depends on what kind, looks blank, probably not)




monophona - every day is like sunday

twin shadow - there is a light that never goes out

VIRGO Your character is not represented in a single act. Rather, it's the average of many behaviors over time. You'll work on being the person you want to be more consistently.

Once upon a time Saturday, I bought crushed velvet pants because they 1 were on clearance and 2 are supercomfy. I love bargains and supersoft pants. Then I came home, thought happily "only 9 bucks!", then I pulled them on without panties because supersoft pants on soft girlparts feels nice. The end.

cake - short skirt long jacket (repost)

yoga lifehack: mirror blur

"Dear Mr. You, Manly creature, who smells good even when you don’t, you wake up too slowly, with fuzzy, vertical hair and a slightly lost look on your face as though you are seven or seventy-five; to you, because you can notice a woman with a healthy chunk of years or pounds on her and let out a wolf whistle under your breath and mean it; because you thought either rug would be fine, really it would; to you who can fix my screen door, my attitude, and open most jars; to you who codifies, slams a puck, builds a decent cabinet or the perfect sandwich; to you who gave a twenty to the kids selling Hershey bars and waited three hours for me at baggage claim in your flannel shirt; you, sir, you took my order, my pulse, my bullshit; to you, boy grown up, the gentleman, soldier, professor, or caveman; to you and to that guy at the concession stand; thank you for lying on the hood of that car and watching stars plummet, thank you for the tour of the elevator cage, the sound booth, the alley; thank you for the kaleidoscope, the get-well tequila, the painting, the truth; thank you for the brown diamonds and blue points; to you, who carried me across the parking lot, to the ER, and up the stairs; to you who shows up every so often only to confuse and torment, and you who stays in orbit...You are what makes me indomitable and how I know to keep walking when I feel crippled in every conceivable way." Dear Mr. You, by Mary Louise Parker

If I were math:

shit together + kinda nuts / oversexed + honorable - (bossy + disillusioned) = blessed ft. seething

(You?)

all wretch, no vomit

This is why you are not Happy - Alan Watts

Most of that applies to most people I know, according to what they tell me. That was Trainwreck's problem for instance, if ever I heard it. But almost none of that is why I am unhappy. I wasn't raised to affirm anyone's existence - I was barely raised at all. My children raised me backhandedly, and for them I became an increasingly constant thing. Which is good, and I like it for myself as well, that I can completely rely on waking up to the same person every morning. Me.

But. To the extent I was 'brought up' it was by my grandmother, who felt stuck all her life being exactly that, the rock, and who was not buried with my grandfather after 60 years of marriage - she wanted to at last try being single. Nobody else in my wide family read books about everything and everywhere, except her, and then me. She stoked my wild heart. The part of me that is restless and haughty. The petit nympho. The standoffish bitch. She often told me "get the fuck out of here, then get the fuck out of there too". That part of me is driving me halfcrazy now, at odds with the rest. Wantdog. Frustrated and whimsical and sometimes bitter and often impatient, seething beneath my known-quantity carefully-preserved identity.

And that is a dangerous state to be in for us constant types, the earth signs. You are ripe to be swept off your feet by someone who senses opportunity wherever they can find it and takes whatever they can from whomever they can. We court trouble this way.

If I don't get soothed soon, I will have to sell a house or some such. Chain myself to big chores that must be done so they supersede my heart for a spell.

the sheepdogs - the way it is

Day 1 of the year was spent in and out of urgent care with a flu struckdown kid. Frazzled worried driving around getting meds in a blizzard while the temp dropped and the boiler couldn't quite keep up. Which is good. Every new year for several years running, I think 'yay it's going to be better now', then it sucks. So it's just as well that 2018 isn't blowing smoke up my ass. No illusions.

dj shadow - nobody speak ft bag of dicks

experience suggests