Certain people, it seems, will allow anything from me. I’ve known them so long, overshared so much, that nothing should surprise by now. Nothing much, at least.
Such was the trajectory last night, it seemed, when talk descended to how I pee sitting, and onto my body. It’s a nice, warm, earthy feeling, and the pee washes away with the shower water. So I don’t go around smelling like pee.
Today is 10/10/2022. The first woman I knew in New York was proud of her birthday being 10/10. She announced it like a child would. For years it seemed all the women I dated were born in the month of October. That trend finally ended.
I was in Hollis yesterday, on Hillside Avenue. I found an obscure payphone in a low-rise apartment complex. I felt uneasy in that place. Lightly populated, a Sunday morning, with people just sitting around, looking around, possibly curious about the stranger taking pictures of the old payphone. It reminded me of a time a friend and I were scouting locations in the Bronx. We found ourselves in one of the African enclaves. It looks strange when a couple of white guys with fancy cameras jumped out of a car and started asking business owners a bunch of questions about the old payphone outside their store.
The omelet today was good, but the stores were not open at full capacity because it is Columbus Day, or Italian Heritage Day, or Indigenous Peoples Day. What day is this? It is Monday.
I spent about 20 minutes today masturbating to a woman’s vagina. It is an exceptionally beautiful cunt, mouthwatering and at times dripping of white fluids. I feel myself drowning in it, conversing with it, playing games with fingers and toys and tongue. I became fixated on a piece of lint that landed in front of her asshole. But then she spread the lips open wide, and all I could think was that’s for fucking. She was a beautiful sight to wake up to.
My possible connection with Z last night did not occur. I didn’t feel well, and the bar was too crowded. Wednesday it will be. Wednesday we see if we are each other’s destiny, or density. She looks like a happy, stable person. Active in the social scenes around Astoria.
I feel unnatural today. Artificial. I don’t think I like where these pills are taking me. What happens if I lose them? Should I be carrying them everywhere? I include them as part of my bachelor bag, which includes a change of underwear and socks, and some condoms.
Was thinking of Crystal last night when I saw an article about the crime surge in Cypress Hills. She lives there, and we boned a few times at her place. She never came to my place.
I thought of her because the new article about the crime surge in Cypress Hills interviewed someone named Krystal, a white woman bearing no resemblance to Crystal, who is black. I don’t know where she went next but we had nothing much to work with. Mutual ghosted.
I just looked in a bathroom mirror. I didn’t like what I saw. I don’t look like anything.
I was earlier remembering how Google’s algorithms deemed me suicidal, and how there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. That was a humiliating, insulting experience but I’ve come to expect that of the Big G.