VirtualExile

Give your child the name “Not-My-People,” for you are not my people, and I am not “I am” for you.

Following this leads to that on the Internet, hyperlinks from nowhere to nowhere, I'm reading this first chapter of Hosea in the Old Testament of the Catholic Bible as tears unexpectedly flow from my eyes,

Why do I identify with this 3,000-year-old rebuke from a nonexistent God whom I have firmly and intently rejected?

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Something to do with one of my ancient screen names, VirtualExile,

Something to do with my Wild Week,

Something to do with this 11+month Quarantine,

Something to do with the ghosts in my heart, and my present functional singularity,

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Something to do with how we fashion our gods or Goddess as representations of the tensions between our realities, our fears, and our hopes,

Creating narratives of meaning, substituting communal macroscopy for the intimate microscopy of our personal lives,

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Yesterday after I meditated, I took a short porn break, in my room with the door closed, I watched the beginning of a favorite porn video on my phone while playing with my nipples -- cock locked -- frozen keys 11 miles away -- one month since my last orgasm -- certain I could have a nipple orgasm if I wanted,

Usually I ignore the first few minutes of a porn video; usually porn decorates my surrounding space, a screensaver during Time to Self, but this time the foreplay: one man's hand on another man's neck, caressing the borders between smooth and beard / neck and ear / shirt and skin: this intimacy I have not felt in over four months,

I am not “I am” for you