I am back to activasting my always-on recording devices that document the view outside the living room window, the activities occurring in my living room, me sleeping in the bedtoom, and my time spent in the shower. THe only room unattended is the kitchen but I have an unused camera ready to take on that space.
I turned most of this stuff off when the woman friend was visiting. The outdoor-facing camera kept rolling but no record remains of our sexy times, which were far more epic and frequent at her place than mine. She took pictures of me naked in her bed, and I often sent photos in kind, artistic in intent, of stuff like a reflection of my cock and balls in her gold-gramed mirror, or a misy image of my naked self in a foggy bathroom mirror.
I had a brief online correspondence with a woman who saw one of my shower pictures, taken with the overhead surveillance camera and showing me naked in the tub with only a cell phone covering my crotch. I explained, in response to her inquiry, that I wanted to document the mundane, but also I set it up as a sort of security thing, in case anything happens and I have an accident or whatnot. I think my chances of that decreased significantly when I started sitting in the shower, though getting up to exit the place definitely has its risks. I also document the shower because my shower has become my happy place. My happy, peaceful place. It’s the closest I come to meditation. I do not spend long hours in the shower, mind you.
I let myself be filmed in the shower by a documentary film maker. She was not in the shower with me. It was artistically set up so I was behind a semi-transparent shower curtain and her camera was outside the bathroom in the hallway. I would talk about the things I talk about, including death, life, suicide and women. At the end of our first session she was in tears, crying, and being very emotional for what exact reasons I never knew. I wanted to masturbate for this project but she refused. This was a documentary film but that didn’t mean we were actually documenting what occurs in my life and in my shower. I wanted to do it while narrating something, maybe a sexual encounter that took place in this shower or in the nearby bedroom. Or maybe just a narrative of some of the women I’ve known in discussion about our non-sexual encounters. I don’t remember now where it might have gone but the intent was not to be crude or vulgar but wholesome and sincere. For me the act has little of the stigma it used to carry. It’s a joyful mess.
That documentary project had some memorable moments but ultimately it fizzled out. The film maker, true to her characterization of herself, never finishes anything, and those hours of me on video will likely languish for eternal obscurity. If it somehow came back to life I would probably decline further involvement. I’m not in a place now where I am comfortable having cameras follow me everywhere I go, and in this arrangement things did not work out in a healthy or balanced manner anyway.
Without ever seeing even a draft of the film I believe it made me look like the child that I am, and always will be. I suspect it would have made me look like more of an alcoholic than I really am. It deflected any direct discussion of suicide, as I recall, save for the incident on the RFK Bridge which brought out the full force of the NYPD. That was for the ages.
But anyway, I did not intend to go off on that tangent. I do sometimes question what that film maker’s intentions ever really were. But it doesn’t matter now.
I am happy to report I feel fine today. Peaceful. No rapid pounding heartbeat, no dark thoughts, and the physical soreness from getting vaxed three times in one go seems to have passed. I have a relatively high threshold for pain but for this I probably should have stayed home from work. But they zap you for doing that if you’d just taken a few days PTO. If you cann in sick after 4 or 5 days PTO they demand a doctors note because they assume you’re a jackass just trying to extend your vacation another day. It’s a pretty mean-spirited atmosphere in this workplace, and on account of it I have frequently shown upto this job feeling sick, like really sick, probably contagious, even, when I had the eye infection a few weeks back. That was so gross, felt like I had a grapefruit stuck in my face. But most people say they noticed nothing.
