Of the pretty good dissatisfaction of sex.

Still thinking about sex capital. Or a hopeful irony-maxxing from a pornographer who rambles. Along with the amount

Yet at this point, I lurk on Substack. I'm not sure the way of the defeatist hack way of egoism that I happened to have with the boon is defensible; sex sells, or until it doesn't.

Or is it that the spectacle sells? That's been as old as time, as old as play. As old as the caveman being able to dance before industry from agriculture.

It's becoming apparent that the intuition of the commodity. Or what.

"I'm merely doing what's natural and expressing my sexuality." Sure thing, do express complexity. Or, to conclude with this post, to utopia with heaven in denial of the metaphysics of it all. Common sense and intuitions will be around.

(Oh, Did he use beep_Boop? Idc now.Don't at me.)