Today’s musings are admittedly dark, but I think I’m merely pointing out the seamier side of the Zeitgeist

Sometimes I think we spend too much time trying to figure things out. We simply must understand. I’m watching a Brazilian comedy, A Super Femea, from 1973, in Portuguese. Ostensibly about contraception for men, as demanded by feminists, the film moved from one comic scene to another. It carries a juvenile obsession with nudity and sex, so characteristic of that time. Those of you who remember the time should think Rowan And Martin’s Laugh-in, only with bare breasts and buttocks. After 20 minutes, the film became tedious.

Bored with streaming, I move back to FIOS TV. A couple on HGTV have discovered their dream home. It has indoor plumbing, running water and electricity! Yet their dreams demand more, a pot filler spigot over the stove, a waterfall shower for two bathers, a gas fireplace have become the new must-haves. Now happiness awaits them.

There was about fifty years separating these two vignettes of modern culture. Modern time is a world of ease and convenience. And these two objectives are ever moving targets. Sex without consequences prolongs adolescence into senescence. And all we want are toys.

What we’ve come to understand are our desires, which we conflate with needs. What we desire, are suggested to us. They aren’t some internally generated desires. At one time, public relation pioneer Edward Bernays suggested we wanted cigarettes. Then someone else suggested we should want private passenger automobiles, then oral contraceptives, personal computers, global connectivity.

And here we are. What Klaus Schwab and Bill Gates want should be what we want. We should want to eat crickets, have only two children and when we get old and sick, we’ll choose to be euthanised like an arthritic cocker spaniel.

Progress.

I made pudding, Jell-O Cook’N’Serve Pudding, both chocolate and butterscotch. After I stirred the oil into my Smucker’s Natural Peanut Butter, I wanted use the rest of the milk in the fridge.

I wish I had grandchildren who would visit and I could give them pudding with whipped cream on top.

A small thing, but it would mean the world to me.

Count your blessings.

My sexual desire and curiosity has re-awakened. I’ve been looking at pornographic videos and pictures, reading erotic literature. I miss sex. The last time my wife and I made love was in 2003. That’s a long time.

She stroked my back last night as we lay in bed. I had my tee-shirt on. She had her tee- shirt on. It could have been an invitation for more. Ironically, while my inner life wants sex, my body wants, no, demands, sleep. Maybe the sexual imagining is a way to keep the “pilot light” lit, as I recover from COVID.

Sex has always been about survival, to keep the human race going, but also our connections with each other.

People having sex is fucking beautiful. Truth be told, we always like to watch. Hence we have mirrors.

I’m losing my ability to be philosophical right now, as I recall the exquisite moment of orgasm inside a woman’s cunt, bringing out that last spasm of spunk. Sex is about wanting, being wanted, taking and being taken. You can sort out the “power dynamics” , however you wish, but there always seems to be somebody topping and somebody else being a bottom. Maybe it’s an unconscious dynamic in the cis-heterosexual world, but it’s there nonetheless. In short “Egg and sperm define the terms“.

I remember going to the movies as a little boy, maybe six or eight. DeMille’s Samson And Delilah grabbed my attention, Hedy Lamarr especially. I knew then that Hedy Lamarr was “hot”, perhaps intuitively. Later I saw Sophia Loren in Houseboat. And Hollywood had me.

Worse things have happened.

This is my first acknowledgment of the New Year, 2023. I’m at the stage of life where the years are a blur. I’ll be more aware of the new year when longer hours of daylight give us more time to get things done.

As New Years go this was a good one. Unlike Christmas, the stores are open. The weather has been Spring-like. No jacket, or even socks, were required these past two days.

The real story, for me, has been about recovery from COVID-19. I had the virus in mid-December, followed by a sinus infection. Talking with Becca, my neighbour, I learned that the overwhelming fatigue I feel will probably last til about St. Valentine’s Day. Oh well.

Other bloggers are walking along beaches, having spicy sexual escapades, or frolicking with new pets, while I watch videos, or do a little work until I tire again.

Things could be worse. My dreams of throwing out trash, then recycling the recyclables, and finally donating my redundant useful things to charities will have to wait. But they will be done. My landscaping pipe dreams can come true in Springtime.

Time to take the antibiotic prescribed for my sinus infection. The dirty dishes can stay in the sink until morning.