All my life I have taken satisfaction in my variegated obsessions, but then I met Lo and I realized that, unbeknownst to me, I had a huge void in my heart that had not been filled (or fulfilled) by anything or anyone. For a period in my life I had made a living as a writer of sorts. I wrote essays on love (among other things) and, when Lo looked at them recently she said, “You write like someone who’s thought a lot about love, but never was in love.” I must agree with her. I thought I understood love in theory, but like the Tao, understanding in theory is not living it, being it, experiencing it.
At another period in my life I wrote fiction. In several plays, movie scripts, and novels I had conjured different femme fatale characters, all of whom were prefigurations of Lo. When Lo came into my life — flesh and blood — I thought that I must have been dreaming or perhaps, at best, she had read my various publications and strived to be for me all that I had dreamt in my fiction. Why she would do this, I had no idea. But, as it turns out, she had not read any of my work and was the muse of my mind made flesh — nefarious goddess incarnate. She is for me everything I had fabricated in my wildest imaginings — and then some….
But, as it is, I am just a middle aged, shaggy haired, mild mannered depraved rake who, by an incredible turn of luck, has discovered a nymphomaniac with daddy issues: a woman who, through her own liberation, redeems my debauched dreams and sanctifies them in a higher reality than spirit — that of the flesh. Bathing me in the baptismal fluid of her amrita, she is the priestess who transubstantiates my depravity into transcendent divinity.
[Excerpt from the story, “Cum to Jesus” in the book Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl]