Demystifying Sunjata

Pretty much said all I had to say earlier about Mr. Sunjata. All that's left to do is post some more photos of his handsome mug and call it a day, right?

Hm. I wonder. Still feeling a tad mystified over him, I feel there's words missing, something else that need be said. Perhaps I'm on an emotional trip again, just feeling lonely, blocking out grief I should be feeling, and am gravitating toward a man who makes me feel comfortable... Dunno. Maybe it's a sophomoric attempt at being carefree and immature.

Part of me feels silly indulging in stupid posts like these. I mean really. Shouldn't I have better words to blog? Some treatise on the world today and how to improve upon it? Is my soul that vapid I can't pen inspirational and motivational thought without reducing myself to base instinct? After all, this eye candy isn't solving any tantamount issues in my life, is it? Where do I get off acting like a hormonal adolescent? Hm? ¡Dígame! Is showcasing men, ones I'll never know personally, an appeasement to temper an unsatisfied libido? A discordant life?

But someone once attributed, "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." I wholeheartedly admit this guy is sexy. I could give two flying effs what anyone else thinks about this attraction. Go wit the flow, Ian, go with the flow. You know you wanna wax philosophic on them thick lips, that nose, those eyes, the wistful masculine aura and energy, his yellowbone complexion...Uh huh, I thought so.

Without further adieu, here's Danny.