What should I do now that the book is in some kind of shape?
I drift from blog post to blog post without direction. Should I still talk about sex? Should it still be true stories? There is more sex. There is always more sex. But what point would there be? Should I invent some stories? Should we drift into the realm of fantasy? Should I just hop from story to story forgetting about the sex for now, just reveling in pure invention?
I thought perhaps I might do a month of philosophy. Drawing ideas of sexuality from philosophical questions. This seems like my most likely course of action, but now that the book is done I have no energy for sex at all. I feel hollowed out, bereft of stories. I feel like I have lost a friend or a part of myself. I feel like an amputee, feeling about in the dark for a leg in need of scratching and realising that things will be different now.
26 letters in the alphabet he tells me. That's almost a month right there. A challenge perhaps, an a-z of erotic delights, surely I can cover an alphabet without much trouble. I haul out the Encyclopedia of Unusual Sex Practices by Brenda Love. I turn the pages one by one. More than enough. My true stories. My responses to a stimulous. A project. An alphabet book for the sexually exploratory. So I begin.