Lust and Lost

In my four days exploring Central London, I fell in and out of love many times. Usually not lasting more than a glance or a moment spent relaxing together in a park, may women fell victim to my lust. I, of course, am left alone to reflect on the power that is lost to the other sex.

A part of me wants to believe that this lust has only become noticeable because of my foreign local and the novelty of the view. In someways this is true. Hearing an accented female generally attracts my attention. With a multitude us uniquely formed words all around me, my head is on a constant swivel and so to my desire. Unique clothes draw a different path for my eyes across the female form. Despite this reasonable diagnosis, I wish add elaboration.

Another factor, that only few will understand, is the presence of Brown Dog. BD, as he is often called, is a fictional character who fills the pages of many Jim Harrison novellas. As a part of my city ventures, I read Westward Ho! This is a novella that tells of BD's quest to reclaim his bear skin from an American Indian movement activist. This activist has left BD 45 miles outside of LA. As BD fails and succeeds in his ever present quest he is always an astute observer of the color of women's undergarments, the swoop of a woman's ass and the attractiveness of a rotund woman. Although I do not have the mindless ability to act on my lust as BD does, I relate to the animalistic pursuit of the unseen but often imagined.

In all honesty, I have noticed some of this lust before. It is a lust similar to any venture of a country boy to the cityscape. When in the natural confines of the country, lust must narrow its focus. Generally, one female in the smoky bar or field party draws the evenings lust. She is usually too young, wearing too much makeup, balancing a cigarette between her lips and is the fixation of the room. For this specimen, you must not converse or the illusion will be broken when she does not understand your Steinbeck reference or shares to undying love for Guns and Roses. I do not mean to imply that country girls lack intelligence. It is simply that the majority of intelligence country girls have from my peering eyes by their pious fathers. Not wanting to lose a female of their own creation, country fathers use their religion and land to insulate their daughters from the local bar. If not hidden, they soon take up the city and its rules.

In the city, land does not exist as a buffer. Universities and science also begin to crack the religious fervor shell. Women quickly adapt and realize that their feminine features are a commodity. The goods are not sold as raw materials to the sex professions but become valued based of the estimations of glances. A speculative glance from a male leads to the fulfillment of a need to be the center of attention. The city wise female quickly learns the power that she holds. Expensive dinners, designer clothes and the attention of the human equivalent to the cock pheasant display her understanding of power. It is often to these things that she is drawn.

What of the humble and lowly passerby? A glare straight forward is the usual reward. I have never been able to understand this stance of complete indifference and lack of observation. Sometimes a female (or male as well) will forget the rules of the city game and match eye contact with this country outsider. Instant terror and a diversionary path usually greet my smile and acknowledgment of the other's existence. I have taught myself the rules of the city to preserve my honest attempt to greet and dismiss the belief that I hold ill intentions.

I do not know the to genesis to my uncontrollable lust. In the time that I needed to compose this reflection, I have left Central London. I have traveled to smaller cities further north. Here the local fashion includes shorts that are cut very high on the bottom and rise high above the hip. Teeth have begun to tangle slightly as they reach their end. The guttural sound of the Celtic accent batters the smooth flow of the southern. With this lack of attraction, my lust subsides. I will willingly accept this respite as I prepare the ultimate test in lust, Paris.

NIC