I don’t know why I keep at this. This job. Another week, another month, another sense of structure that seductively makes me feel valued when I know I am not. I savor the free water. It is so good. Best water ever. Free use of toilets and toilet paper for the ritual wiping of my ass. I mentioned anal hygiene to a friend the other night. He just laughed and laughed. He is gay and perhaps knows far more about keeping it clean than I. I don’t know but the simple act of blasting water up my ass for 30 seconds of my day has changed the way I sit. I didn’t need a fancy bidet or anything European to make it seem like a good thing for me. Just a simple blast of water up the butt. Between the free water and the buttwipes I don’t know how I could question this place for its paradisical entreaties. Who would want to leave here?
I remain puzzled by the abrasion on my left arm. Has my ability to commit self-harm resumed? Did it ever go away?
Watched some shower cam last night. The quantity is not as endless as I like to imagine. I don’t know why I default to thinking that way, that my accumulations of material are so vast and unnavigable that I will drown underneath them before making the simplest bit of sense out of it all.
How common is it for a man to watch himself masturbate on live video? When live pornographers simply don’t cut it I turn to myself, an ultimate act of self-absorption? Maybe that’s being judgmental. Self-containment? Self-satisfaction? That can’t be. My mental energies are almost entirely spent wishing I was making someone else happy with all this sexual energy. But I don’t regret being alone. I don’t suffer from monophobia, though I may have in the past.
I have a habit of drinking from an empty cup. It happens repeatedly. The cup is small and I finish its contents quickly. But I want more. I am left drinking air.
I should probably get Covid tested. Anticipating a new dalliance this weekend makes the task seem fair. Nobody is getting the latest booster, it seems, and word is only the most vulnerable need bother. I’ll get it anyway. I think I can get a half day off work for it. Or I could get a whole week off for testing positive. I never tested positive but I had it early in the days of March and April 2020. No vaccines and you had to be coughing up a lung to qualify for testing. Now I have the antibody to show for it.
Don’t know my plans for tonight but I might try to see the woman again. Fridays are weird for me since I work Saturdays. I feel her calling me, though. Calling for me.
I am sitting in a different part of the office this week, not seeing the woman I like to look at nor am I hearing the woman whose voice sounds like a fucking air raid siren. Not really hearing anybody.
