Big bike ride yesterday, bounding up to the top of twin peaks. The ocean was clear and the heavy wind coming over the top of the hill was enough to lean into; trust fall with mother earth. Rambled through the city, which is charged with a couple of conferences, some peace marches, and various gatherings of the far out. All that and the normal hustle of a Saturday. Hit the bank, then the Zeitgeist for a beer and a garden burger and calling my mom, then home.

And then out again. Bowling organized by my friend Zephyr and attended by DeanSpace colleagues and other allies in town for the Planetworks conference. Bowling is fun. Then up a hill to a woman named Abigail's house, a friend of Z's, and conversations about free will and public art and the new philosophy and of course politics. It's good. I don't get to talk about free will all that often, and it's something I like to do. Mmm... intellectual stimulation.

Speaking of stimulation, the balmy weather does make the blood run. I'm prowling, and it's getting to be annoying. It's not like a conscious thing I go and do, but rather some mood that just seems to settle over me, where I can't seem to have any interaction with anyone female without feeling an over/under-tone of sexual tension.

This is annoying to me because the desire to fuck obstructs my ability to interact with women as fellow human beings. This is largely a flaw in my own psychology, I think, because there are clearly people out there in the world who have greater libidinous appetites than I do who still manage to move through life without feeling similarly blocked. I think what it boils down to is that somewhere in me I'm uncomfortable with my own desires, and so when these things come up it throws me off balance.

Intellectually, I don't see any reason for my being uncomfortable. Yet there it is. More estrangement from self.

I've had two very odly sexy dreams the past two nights. Friday night's also had strange racial overtones. I dreamt that I was in a grocery store in NYC, picking up my basket off the ground I bumped into a voluptuous half-black pregnant woman, and after speaking a few words she asked me how old I was. I answered 25 and she said, "good, then I can take you home." On the way back to her house, we (or rather she) got razzed by some black men in an SUV. I don't recall if there was any actual sex in the dream, but there was the very clear intent, and a definite feeling of arousal. It was all tied up in some larget bohemian storyline about politics and the occult, I think.

Last night I dreamt -- again as part of some larger storyline that I can't really recall -- that I was making prank phone calls to the police, reporting non-existant bad drivers from a payphone. I stepped out and ran into Caryn Johnson, who was one of my original highschool crushes. There was a similar spark as we kind of both circled back to say high, to catch up, and in the dream I'm standing there with my hands on this woman's hips, getting closer and closer, and then these two kids bust into the picture, a younger boy and and older girl. They're not hers, but somehow she's responsible for them. After that I don't really remember.

So that's kind of odd... two not-really-erotic dreams (but with titlating sexual content) both involving random encounters and children. What would Freud say?