What is that feeling?

   Allow me to cite certain examples which attempt, in vain, to touch upon the vagaries of that sensation, that feeling. It is like longing to be at home when you are already at home. It is as if you are not feeling enough at home. That there is more home to your home, hidden somewhere, something that is missing, perhaps there is a secret door or portal that would open up into the second home, or other home, or sub-home you had been seeking (the home-within-the-home). This longing for home exacts an unparalleled gravitational tug … it is the haunt which afflicts us most deeply. Everything we do, every thought we have, every voice we hear, every desire we burn, every longing we ache, is born from and contains within it traces and vestiges of homesickness. It’s the wanderer’s plague, the wayfarer’s spite, the nomad’s agony. Novalis said all philosophy is homesickness. Thomas Wolfe said we are all exiles and outcasts here. This is why you can be at home, while desiring to be more at home, to feel more at home—there must be more mother behind mother, more father behind father, there must be more home to this home, there must be ultimates with whom we can develop intimate rapport.

   Now, in tilting the scale in a different direction: It’s like wanting to fuck someone so bad while you are fucking them. It is as if the feeling is not consummating, or rather is not commensurate with the depth and intensity of desire—this is what makes people want to devour each other, why our passion to consume, after having consumed, leaves us hungrier than ever. Imagine this: you are having sex with someone while imagining what it would be like to have sex with that person, as if you were not already having sex with that person (in real-time) … you are, while in a state of consummation in a state of anticipation, the ol’ double-edged sword of fantasy and action … in other words, the consummation did not, as you expected, efface or eradicate the sense of anticipation which held you, but rather, perversely, anticipation has been considerably heightened by consummation, as is there was a layer of anticipation beneath anticipation which only comes to the surface when the first layer of anticipation has been exploded by consummation—it is the anticipation-consummation-anticipation sandwich, not to be found in any deli or restaurant, and that second anticipation brings with it longing for greater deeper consummation while you are in the energetic midst of consummation (this being a sandwich that can have many more levels than the simple A-C-A equation I just mentioned). This how and why this state of longing grows in scope and complexity, as you amass an assortment of details when filtering your stringent longing through a projection lens, for example: I am having sex with her, yet I can’t wait to have sex with her, and I am nervous and excited about next weekend when we get together, if we get together—your mind now accumulating details in architecting a fantasy which is superimposed over present reality—you and she are having sex—but you can’t wait to have sex with her, as if you are not having sex with her, never had sex with her, and how might it all play out when that first time arrives again, never, and how will it unfold when you finally get to consummate what is, in essence, unconsummatable.