bare

This thought has been in my cranium for quite awhile. I have been thoughtfully thinking this thought since Thursday--but long before that this thought was a feeling felt. And of course I may only present the thought as a theatrical theme, a thick theory, a thin thread to track to a throng of thought thuggery and the like, thereof thrusting the throbbing thrill of this thought into your...brain. Thus follow the throughway, and don't thwart my thirst; thereupon you may come to think this prologue isn't a threat, just a thought.

(Silly intros aside) So I'd like to take a moment to explain how very much I thrive in existing in a state of nakedness. But I suppose that statement isn't wholly true, as I only really truly fully enjoy being naked right as I exit the shower. Right after I clean nimbly naked body and make the transition from the moistly damp shower tiles to the outside world of soothingly cold marble, I feel a sensation of purity and cleanliness.

If sleep revives the mind, then showering revives the body. No, no, no...The word "showering" is too culturally specific (I’m leaving out people who take baths, who don’t have a shower…). I'm thinking perhaps "bathing" or "cleansing" is more apt to create a universal phrase. But I suppose that isn't the point here, the point here is to justify my near obsession with a "socially unacceptable" state of being, that of an existence without clothes. I put the phrase in quotations because it feels more like a majority of people disagree with daily nudity, but it's more for fear of everyone else's reaction. Like there's this spark inside everyone that pushes people towards being spiritually free--the act of nakedness being one that brings one closer to this goal; though the flame is never set ablaze for fear none of the other flames will approve. Yet we all yearn for it.

I suppose it is just that tug towards innocence. When we were young and dumb we took nakedness for granted. Now we take wearing clothing for granted. As I become more uninhibited and learn what really matters to me in this world, the superfluous is revealed. Perhaps it’s something we go through during these younger years of exploration and discovery, or maybe it’s because I’m a horny, impatient sodomite. You know how we gays like to get naked—examples being gay pride parades, gay clubs, and craigslist. Maybe it is my genetics (damn I should have never chosen to be a homosexual). But actually: I believe I just want to go back to being that naked child who knows only truth; naked of lies, malice, depression, anxiety, jealousy, and tragedy. But then I suppose I would have never have arrived here, would I? I don’t want to believe that life is just everyone getting older and chasing youth, what we used to be—I cannot believe that life is so simple to exist on that sort of continuum. But that’s a different discussion…

One big reason why I love being naked right after a shower: it’s that moment right before labeling myself with hair gel, logos, threads, cotton, fabrics, scents, and colored boxers. Everything says something. All my clothing and grooming choices are intentioned precisely and it all reveals my hand. The use of hair gel indicates that I want my hair to be extra perfect today because I will probably be seeing people (rather: people will be seeing my hair); a certain logo or color or design indicates how I want to be perceived; a fabric portrays how comfortable I want to feel; a scent gives away the pheromones I want to sway; And let’s not get me started about my color and pattern coding system of underwear… Each new item I adorn myself with, each action I take to make myself accepted in this world of masks and brands, brings me down from my cloud of pure, clean, naked heaven. I build the chains to keep me attached to the ground, to let the social laws of this world cruelly enslave me into a jaded oblivion.

There is one concession I must make as far as wearing clothes goes. The artistry and beauty that goes into fashion and style--defining oneself as an individual, creating different costumes for different events, wearing queer clothing like pretty hats and gloves... I suppose as long as we're required to be clothed, we might as well do so with style. Yet every day I still feel so confined and pulled down to the earth as I get dressed; I want to fly, I need to exist against gravity and other contrived rules of rigid, unforgiving science, I long for my mind, body, and soul to be bare.