youth

I often indulge in musings about mortality, but they're usually at worst pleasurable melancholy navelgazings about how we should cherish every moment and so on. But it's only when other emotional things in my life are heightened that mortality (or maybe more accurately aging) is made more visceral and intense and unpleasant.

I spent the last few days with a 20yo girl who I met in Iowa. She flew out to see me and I showed her around the town and we fucked a lot. She had never been to the west coast and hasn't had a load of experience with other girls. It was a pretty intense and jampacked few days. On our last day, we drove down the coast to Santa Cruz, watched the sunset into the ocean from a cliffside in a fantasm of blue and orange.

Maybe I'm projecting things onto her, but if I were her, it would have been a foundational experience for me. I had a number of similarly intense experiences when I was 19-21 and they are like my own personal lore, beautiful ragged-edged nights, precocious youths careening through the world agog at it all.

I was 19 in Vienna, hanging with the cool girls, the soundtrack that Spring was Placebo. We rolled up orange euros and snorted bright blue lines of adderall off a makeup mirror. Me and S walked the streets deep into the night exploring each others young lives and encountering new blisses.  At dawn we stumbled upon a soft white Maria am Gestade. We were at once jaded and vibrating, impressed with the world as our own creation.

But this weekend, I could intuit that a profound experience was happening, but it that meta distance rendered it sort of inert. I wasn't exploring, I was topping, in control. The asymmetry in ages might have had something to do with it, I dunno. The types of heightened experiences I once naively enjoyed might be unattainable for me now. I think I might be able to exhale after my surgery next month and maybe that will change things