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The Cozy Spot

2 posts categorized "Infatuation"

December 09, 2007

Elite Lust

To the eyes of others around the world, they wear ‘funny’ costumes and wear strange looking shoes thatEvzona resemble pom-poms, but each time I see them in images I think of lurid, satin lined orgy beds, and Kama Sutra circus acts.

The Εύζωνες, Ευζώνοι (plural), or ‘evzones’ (English) is a descriptive term for the elite Greek infantry, and the term has come to refer to the Presidential Guard that guards the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, among other monuments.

It’s one of my goals in life to see these elites up close, during the changing of the guard. I’ve seen video footage from friends and associates, and I drool. The precision, and physicality of each stride, reinforces masculinity and brings me closer to my own sexual preferences.

In the words of one of my favorite Depeche Mode songs…

“Let me see you stripped down to the bone…”

Lordy, me…and they even have a home page!

Image: This image of an elite guard is one that I borrowed from a Facebook buddy.

August 07, 2007

Bus Stop

We did a little of ‘spot the cute guy’ this afternoon, but it didn’t work that well for me, primarily because one needs to be interested in that or on the lookout, and as I don’t fit into that category, I began to ponder what category I do fall into. It didn’t take me long. I fall into the thunderbolt category; something has to hit me like a bolt out of the blue, or a tsunami; a naturally overwhelming disaster that ruffles every nerve, ligament and muscle, the kind that disconnects the self from the present moment, like those where one’s tongue is dragging on the pavement, carpet or lawn without one realizing it until it’s pointed out. A mammalian grunt or pant; something along those lines would be ideal as I’m not into the type that ‘grows on you,’ like the saying. That phrase may as well describe a fungus or a fungal disease like thrush; grows on you. Pfft.

Then again…

The tortoise wins the race, whereas the hare is winded by the end of it, which is what the whiz-bang attractions (followed by the ‘you gotta have it’ rushed intimacy) can get me. I know this but do you think I seriously consider it? No. The afternoon was the polar opposite of morning; I gave up on the spot-the-cute-guy game and focused on my coffee instead.

This morning saw a rare moment; charisma wrapped around a female in her early twenties; her symmetrical features stunned me, a porcelain figurine; a pretty woman. It wasn’t a sexual reaction on my behalf, more wonderment. I recalled the old Hollywood stories that I’ve read over the years, where starlets were discovered in way off places like drug stores, and this moment was one of those. I asked myself why (oh why?) aren’t I working as an agent of some kind. Yes, it would help if I spent the better part of my adult life in that area, but I do have an eye. When that eye relates to attractive males, it gets me into trouble; logic flies out of the window faster than a crazed monkey in the Wizard of Oz. This girl had star quality. Her face, symmetry and posture blended together to form a package that would be snapped up in places like NIDA. She reminded me of the types of students that attend NIDA; most are striking. Famous former NIDA students include people like Mel Gibson (among others), for example, and I don’t think there are many who can argue against him embodying charisma; he can annoy the hell out of some people, but he only has to smile for it to be pushed in the backseat. Many women remain intrigued; some men want to be like him (despite his gaffs). The incident on the bus was so much more than the sex appeal. It contained that unspoken quantity that leaves one wondering, that inspires one to continually grasp a word, anything, to describe the presence. Ethereal, is a word.

She was the one person in the forty or so on the bus. That’s how I viewed it. She was the one in forty, a traffic stopper in a neat black straight skirt and red top. Elegance sans skank-a-porter: black stockings, matching pumps, she could have been a legal secretary, someone who worked it under the fluorescent lighting of Officeville. The other endearing aspect, she wasn’t wrapped up in herself. It was as though she was oblivious to her impact, and this added charisma bonus points, upped the stare factor by numerous points for me. The moment, although interesting, knocked a little wind out of me; the age crept up. I didn’t get misty eyed or anything but I soberly considered some things up until this moment, as the bus was heading down City Road. The what have I done with my life, moment, that crawls into one’s gut and settles in one of the larger intestines performing cartwheels until it has to be farted out; I held it in all day, until I felt like I had a pip the size of a pomegranate in my belly, for it to dissipate by the time I returned home but on the way home another thought arose, namely that I’ve been thinking of one person on a near daily basis. Yes, male. Yes, silly. Yes, insane. Illogical?




Everything else may as well be a diversion.

I awoke, prior to the bus and afternoon café jaunt, and knew that the person appeared in the final dream, the one that is interrupted by the goddamned alarm clock. As I washed, dressed and collected my purse, I tried to recall the bits and pieces of the dream. On failing, I embraced the idea, or inner knowledge that I dreamt about them, and along that thought, I tired to explore the reasons behind the frequent dreams. It’s not an obsession. More infatuation. A dear word, one associated with adolescence or early adulthood; infatuation is weird, produces impulses that veer away from all logic. It’s the type of emotion that can dissolve during the day, as routine tasks invade one’s thoughts, but returns later on, possibly in the evening, to wreak havoc or aid in producing a toe curling orgasm. Infatuations can grow on a person; the fungus of attraction and fondness wrapped by a bow of lust.

Observations, apart from being routine elements of everyday life, are life’s bus stops; they may not mean anything in the larger scope of everything, but they can brighten up the corners of the day in some way even if they don’t offer definitive destinations.

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© Anastasia Mavromatis 2005 - 2008