At work. On the job. Feeling icy inside. Earthquake in NJ last night. Radio commentators were confusing, making it sound like a 4.8 had hit. THis job is a zero for me now. I quiet quit many months ago. You cannot expect someone to overachieve at a job that pays poverty wages. When there is no future here there is amply no reason to pretend there is. I’m better resigned to this for the time being. In earlier months I wrote what could be interpreted as suicide notes to myself.

I’m not at that point now. Still, my endless adolescence shows no signs of abating. I feel better since reconnecting with the first woman I ever knew in New York. I like how I make her feel. I’m a bit of a dom like that. I don’t need reciprocation, but I understand that it makes her feel good. I like my woman to be a pillow princess. I use the term dom but maybe it’s just selfish and lazy. My body is, needless to day, not what it was3 decades ago. Everything still works but it’s not like it used to be, as would be expected. Her body seems hungrier than ever.

Today is a payday. The money here is so weak that I barely pay attention to it anymore. But I am expecting to splurge on an air conditioner next week. HOnestly, were it not for the woman in my life, I would not be doing this. But the bedroom gets mighty hot without a/c. Come to think of it, the last a/c I got for the bedroom was under similar circumstances. But on top of that it is said to be the hottest summer on record coming our way, and I don’t doubt that.

I see that twitter.com has finally changed over to X.com. For all the rebranding of X the actual physical (is it physical?) URL remained twitter.com. Part of my job entails death-scrolling through X. It is like eating mental garbage all day but there are occasional gems and notes of interest.

I use a burner account that would, for an ordinary personal, be impossible to connect to me. I post nothing but follow a bunch of generic accounts (news outlets, politicians, celebrities). I am followed by 254 “people,” almost every one of them a beautiful, busty woman with links to OF or else to porn sites on sketchy TLDs like .fun and .buzz. Many are hawking crypto, of course. X is just a gnarly cesspool but somehow I cannot look away.

One positive I’ve found at this job is that I can carve out time for what I guess would be called personal projects. Until recently I had limited time to make use of my full subscription to newspapers.com but I’ve made up for that latesly. Same goes for NYT.com, particularly the Times Machine, in which I feel like I’m bathing. The layout of the Times is way more spacious than it used to be. The front pages from the 80s looked like hives of conversation and tangents.

I don’t mean to sound so malcontented about this job. It’s fine. People are nice. Still, I want to be the one who just stops showing up one day, ran off to join the circus or become a professional masturbator. I barely connect with anybody here. Nobody knows anything about my sometimes flamboyant pasts. THe people you work with are the people you work with. RIght? I’m going to eat a sammich.