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November 02 • Good beat, but...

Day 481

What does sex addiction have to do with being petrified at every opportunity or obligation to dance in public? I'm asking; I really don't know.

Is it my obsession to protect my image? I don't think so, because I'd rather have an image as a good dancer. Is it my internal tapes that think of dancing as a mating ritual, and thus my addict says it's wrong and to be avoided, at least in public?

I don't want to make up reasons for things I don't understand. I am trying to dance more because my wife loves dancing and loves me dancing. It's not the horror that it used to be, and I even like it sometimes once I get on the floor, but it's still — always — a tight stomach that precedes the loose feet. I wish I knew why.



Dancing through life...

where its strife enshrines all my desires

Dancing through death...

a dance with the devil and a flirt with the dead

–Sirenia, ”A Mental Symphony"



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