QUICK sesh. i got a shit ton of shit to do today’s weird it’s like half expectational and half observational like for example giorgio’s presentation; that’s on me because i want it to go well and i want to have a good audience for her and have it be cool and not awkward, but then again to a certain extent i’m just sitting back and letting her do her thing, and so that’s on her. then again, everything’s like that at least a little bit. just cuz there’s only so much you can do. it’s like i told megan last night before her first night of her first job: it’s just a really weird physical video game. play it as well as you can. So avid sesh is basically ready to go, and i got some pretty cool assignments in place, before the sesh for once!! Now if i can just get to where it’s before the week has already started. Ham sesh will be wung because i will have almost no time in between everything this afternoon. That means no time to make butter. Damn. Ok maybe tomorrow, fine, no biggy Er, but i don’t really want to talk about work. Shit that’s like sleeping and dreaming and dreaming about work and then waking up to realize you have to go to work in real life. GAY. So what should we talk about? I don’t know. let me set the timer though. We’re on the clock here. I’m like a therapist and my own verbal pseudo-subconscious is my client. What. Some dumb jerk called my phone form stratford, wi. Wonder what the fuck is the reason i get all these junk calls lately. God, could there possibly be anything more boring to talk about than that? I truly have nothing. These mid day sessions on busy school days--i don’t know. Worth it? Answer the poll to cast your vote! Click here for poll results. Results: Yes, it’s worth it: 1 (cat) No, we should just skip it: 1 (human) Cats’ votes are worth nine human votes, so I guess we’ll keep doing them for now. WAHTEVER I still have nothing to say, ha ha, jokes on you bitch. I am feeling a bit pent up lately. THer’s some sexual tension building up. Yes that still happens to me even though i’m quote old unquote. That’s why there’s more profanity than usual in these dumb things. I want some raw rebellion, thrusting, abandon, surrender, grovelling, bucking, moaning, the whole works. I got no one to do that with besides my dumb imagination and of course good old porn. ANd that’s my fault. It sure is easier that way. Up to a point. It’s not easier to keep a sense of human connectivity that way. Should i take testosterone? Or those little pills that make your dick hard that are supposedly a double for relaxing your prostate so you can pee easier, now that the flomax ain’t working so well anymore? then maybe i’d have more “ambition” or “Drive” and that would result in my having more motivation to go out and find ways to be connected to other people. Like, literally. Literally, actually connected. Like plugged in, if you get my meaning. I’d like to have sex with a woman again if i thought i could. But the thing is i just got really bad at it from being with her and having my every depraved need seen to. I’m like a lazy adolescent that only knows how to masturbate one way. Yeah, even though there’s the whole gay side of me, there will always be that part of me that’s enchanted entranced and entangled with women too. But never married again. The last thing on this earth i want is a wife. Ugh. Give me a plate of dirt instead. Give me frigid spaghetti. Give me a musty house with dog-scratched doors on a red dirt hill. Give me an old trailer. Give me a cup of warm rusty water. But please god, keep your fucking wife. Even the word makes me want to die a little bit. The unseen observer thinks i’m saying all that to be like whatsisname, the guy that denied he liked beatrice. Like setting the cute stage for when he’s proven wrong. Ah, redemption! Ah, dramatic irony! Ah, romance! Yeah, no. Bullshit. Sorry, unseen observer, you got it totally wrong this time. THe absolute ONLY way i would want a wife would be if it was ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE for it to be like a normal marriage. ABSOLUTELY ONLY if it was completely open and nonmonogamous. That’s just my hard rule. My deal breaker. She could dominate, humiliate, and cuckold me all she wanted, but only when we were doing that. Other times, other stuff would happen. As soon as i started turning into a weak human being, started to forget, she would cut me off and i would cut her off. WE WOULD BE LIKE TWO ADJOINING HOTEL ROOMS. EACH OF US WOULD HAVE A DOOR THAT WOULD LOCK FROM OUR OWN SIDE. THE ONLY TIME WE WOULD DO ANY OF THAT SHIT TOGETHER WOULD BE WHEN WE BOTH FULL WELL WANTED AND KNEW WE WERE OK WITH HAVING OUR DOOR UNLOCKED. At all other times, what would go on in each of our rooms would be nobody’s business but our own. We could meet for supper. What do you want to have tonight? Pizza? And watch a movie while sitting on the bed? Yeah, sounds good. Oh no, I can’t tonight. I have a thing. This guy is coming over and pounding me in the ass. But hey, how about tomorrow night. And then we can snuggle up and I can tell you all about it. Make you squirm. Make you wiggle. I’ll smile impishly and we can eat the pizza. ANd it’s just as likely as not that absolutely nothing else will pass between us sexually. But you’ll have the echo of that little tinkling laugh in your ear, all the next day. It will glow in your ear, it will be warm in your ear. You might think of me and smile. You might rub yourself and feel that good old expanding feeling coursing up through your guts. But you won’t force yourself to keep thinking of me, and you won’t write bad poetry or maudlin journal entries. ANd then you’ll go on and do whatever else it was you were doing that day. You’d get your shit done. You’d have your own fun. ANd the next time you see me you’ll be wearing that gauzy skirt, smelling like sandalwood, and you’ll knock on my hotel room door, and you’ll have a little song stuck in your head, and you’ll think, this is it. This is perfect. This is life. But not because it’s over. Not because we’re done. Not because there’s nothing scary left. Not becuase you’ve already felt everything you’re going to feel. YOu’re fucking alive, you’re raw, you’re defiant, and you’ll go down screaming when they finally come for you. And that’s why I love you. No, I mean *really* love you. Not that bullshit they sell you on TV, on the Internet, on the side of the bus, on the side of the bus station, in school, at work, on the radio, on a podcast, or in your own mind. THe kind , i’m talking about the kind of love that our own minds can’t even know, because we’re *in* it. We’re *in* love. That’s what I mean by that. ANd you’re like, yeah, that sounds perfect. I’ll be over as soon as I get done with work. I might be a couple minutes late. I got to stop and pick up some