Interzone girls grab you by your semi-erect uncertainty

and jerk you into line, jerk you into submission. This is where the algebra of need meets the geometry of desire, and this is the turbulent fractal edge of chaos that I inhabit. The encyclopedia states that in time of famine, an animal will sell itself into captivity to secure the food it needs. That sounds really pragmatic on an animal’s part, but how can they know that? How many animals did they interview? Nevertheless, this sounds like an opportunity for everyone, not that I’m advocating sex with wildlife, just cultural exchange. No offense, but I can hardly get it up for white girls any more, no matter how physically appropriate. They’re too much like me. I already know what sex with me is like. I want the Other, the more ‘otherness’, the better. The Red Dzao girl got away, but she knew; she knew everything. She was from Outer Space, and that’s just fine. The official form asked ‘Frequency of sex?’ My preferred frequency of sex is about 108 mhz, broadcasting live into the future.