I'm nocturnal by nature. There is something about the night that awakens me on a very basic level. I get most of my writing done at night. I clean up around the house and do laundry at night. I even hit the gym at night; which is awesome because it is mostly vacant.I know what everyone's thinking, "Here we go, again! Cue the hot, late night romp: lights, camera, action!" But, I prefer the gym empty. I don't have to wait for any equipment. I have all the space I need to do my super-sets. I don't have to travel through the herd of congregating gym rats. (Well, I do miss that part.)
This week, after a pretty good work out, I was sitting in the jacuzzi listening to Christian Scott's latest album. Staring of into space listening to his muted trumpet, I noticed something stirring in the sauna across the room. Putting my glasses on, I was pleased to find a muscular man sleeping in the sauna. Most of him remained a mystery within the shadows of the sauna, but the luster of his sweating, golden skin shined from the darkness.
Watching him wrestle to find a comfortable angle, the muscles in his shoulders and back flexed and twitched. His resting body put me in a daze. I felt as if I stepped into an art exhibit and this was the artist's sleeping masterpiece. He was suspended in selective exposure; which gave me the room to dream. My eyes stayed fixed on him, waiting for him to turn over or reveal another angle. His heel reaching out into the light gave my an eerie joy. Later, I learned his calves were equally gorgeous.
"Yesterday You Said Tomorrow" was on it's third rotation and my skin resembled prunes. Jumping from the jacuzzi, I have hoped to have my clothes on before the elderly rush at 5 a.m. I'd hate to attract any attention to this painfully hard erection swinging before me. Does this count as morning wood?
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| Genaro Ocasio by Nikki Rotunda |
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