Erotic Atlas.

I find it hard to distinguish the difference between excitement and nervousness. This leads to some ridiculous predicaments. I get nervous before parties, excited before arguments, and confused prior to both. I remember the morning of my driving test I was so excited I couldn't stand still. Nerves didnt feature until about 3 minutes before actually getting in the car. Not the most convenient of times to feel like the sun and its orbitals are going to pop out of your throat. But this happens to the best of us.
This got me thinking, if I can mentally 'cross wires' between these two, granted fairly similar, emotions/feelings. How many other crossed wires must be kicking about going undetected. Connections between things physical, and emotional always make me chuckle, or pause for a second at least.
Its strange how certain items allow themselves to have a whole range of emotions 'attached' to them. While other objects are.. a little more fussy. A kitchen blender perhaps. I struggle to see how a blender could ever be the most arousing thing you have ever seen. A romantic sheep is quite hard to come by. As is a toaster oozing with sorrow. A poignant plate however, Ive seen plenty of those. Hightened only by the dissapointment laden chilli-con-carne congealing on its oh so poignant surface. Sexy stockings? not a problem. Aggresive cars? easy. Angry keys? Im not so sure.
I wonder if the objects that lack any kind of emotional capabilities are jelous of the rich tapestry of feelings other objects are open to? Or perhaps they just feel relief that they dont have the hassle.
It is of course all based on personal connotations. Whilst one object may bring sombody huge floods of emotion, the very same thing will go by entirely un noticed by others. Recently I have gone through a very bizare period where many objects, songs, places in my life have suddenly decided to switch the emotions they fill me with. This is most disconcerting. After the loss of one of the best friends I have ever had, things which used to bring joy, happiness, carlessness have all of a sudden decided to bring sorrow, grief, and memories. I have a CD with his handwritting on. a tear jerker. A strip of condoms he gave me as a stupid gift, guaranteed never to be used. Places that we used to go have somehow become monuments, memorials, places filled with memories. Its really quite beutiful I suppose. I guess this is how people 'live on' after death. Strange that it should come to the surface in my crying over a set of cereal bowls Tom once stole from my house. Of course these places, objects, songs still hold their original emotive qualities. They are all packed full of laughter and mischeif. But now they will always have a taint of somthing much more permanent.
Hows that for emo?
One thing is for sure, My mate Tom, he gave enough happiness and smiles to this world to last long after he has gone. So heres to that. Rock Out.