Clothes get in the way of my work and my creativity, they also regularly hook-up - against me - with their partner-in-crime, humidity.
My nakedness, or semi-nakedness, also serve as humbleizers... I'm reminded of my mortality, that within my finger skin are finely crafted, perfectly engineered bones; let's never forget the bigger picture. Never (no full stop intended)
I catch a wonderfully erotic, albeit slight, whiff of my own armpit.
My man smell is erotic. For me. And I'm reminded of history. Mine. And other men. And their armpits and man smell.
Mine is not the history of art.
Beautiful/ugly.
3 comments:
Charles dearest, hands down you could easily have moonlighted as a comedian at some erotic strip club! I chanced upon your blog today and had to laugh out loud at this post. You caught a whiff of our own armpit and found it to be “erotic?” Hahahaha God help us!
Thanks so much for taking the time to anonymously post your comment Anonymous Dearest, I really appreciate it. And the fact that you didn't get it... are you maybe one of the living dead? I'm just grateful you weren't charged entry at the door, and could leave without begging a refund :-)
So sorry that this was all out of your frame of reference, will bear that in mind in future ;-) happy Minday evening... Ck
Hello Glowray :-) now that name intrigues me! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment, I appreciate it. Thank you for your kind words... and have a wonderful afternoon, evening, morning wherever you are.
charles
Post a Comment