It became painfully obvious that my turn-on of girls crying is related to my own penchant for sad lovemaking.

I’ve always liked the idea of bringing someone from tears to blissful physical pleasure. Like make-up sex without the fighting.

A girl was able to do that for me once, so I’ve always wanted to be able to do it for someone else.

Either that, or my sadness is mingling with my lust.

At least this means I’m a nice guy.

I saw a savior
A savior come my way
I thought I’d see it
In the cold light of day
But now I realize that I’m
Only for me

If only I could see
Return myself to me
And recognize the poison
In my heart

There is no other place
No one else I face
The remedy to agree
With how I feel

This beat, it moves you. It drives a spike into your heart, hammering impatiently — BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM — like 1,000,000 volts surging through your chest to sixteenth-notes in a bar, and you’re left twitching, wondering how you’ll ever start your day without this again. It hits your ears like a wall of sound, with the synth rising up, filling your soul, and leading your life.

This machine gun is an anthem.

There’s a tremendous bond between mother and daughter, something unmatched by fathers and sons, or even mixed-sex parental relationships. You can see it just from the way they interact.

As a male, I’ll probably never be able to fully understand, but being able to recognize it and knowing that such a wonderful thing still exists is enough to make me feel as if the world is in the right place.

A couple more pictures behind the cut.

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