The shoe on the other foot years later, adults (if you can call me that) suffer from a similar longing: jail-bait. Oh yes, tastier than any bottle up on the rack, male or female, they're like amargnac or a good Sutter - they get better with age, except you're the one lining the barrel, soaking in the confines of the small niche you've formed around you. Mmm...smokey oneness inside leather-clad whores...tasty times...good times...

I was young then...sure, suicidally depressed (who wasn't) at points, but I was suffering from a series of delusions planted in my head by any number of my family and friends. I ran with alot of crowds (think of one, I've chilled with 'em...ska rasta (not ska punk), goth, preppy trash, suitably dressed middle-aged gay millionaries, you name it)...but the New Agers, occultists, and every manner of pseudo, quasi, bonafied, or dabbling mystic you can think of were my hunting ground for spiritual masturbation.

I can't even recall half of the conversations about the nature of the gods, religion, the universe, its construction, the point, etc. that I've had with any number of the folk, but I always added something to their repoitre. Years later (with a rocking chair and some hooch, a blanket over my knees and the faltering voice), I rarely if ever have a good old-fashioned existential conversation. I am, more or less, the "weird" guy who stays quiet...since these popular conventions, this N-Sync profusion and diffusion, if you will...confuses the fuck out of me. Not a single decent piece of ass among 'em.

So the old days with middle-aged love children and scholars, yes. I was something of a precocious lad in the realm of spiritual enlightenment through how-to manuals: I started when I was 12, studying the phenomena of inter-dimensional travel through gates in the space-time continuum. People disappearing right in the middle of a race, having entire houses vanish with the grass still flattened by the edifice...weird shit, and I loved it. The idea of travel, going anywhere but where I was was so...thrilling, wonderful to me (I said I was depressed; damn but I meant it).

Needless to say, I found no quarter with my peers. I'm sorry, but metaphorically flailing my naive member around in the air at any available girl with a developing body just didn't appeal to me; best to laugh at the squeaky voice boys with no reflective consciousness about their wardrobe; far more entertaining. Besides, I was shy.

I remember the time I saved a friend from joining a cult...hell, I remember the time I destroyed one. Gods, damn fun times (I'll give you the 411 later).

The supervisor lurks...I feel my haunches grow weary, squatting like this toward the ground. Alright, time to bound off. Ta.

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