Today was close to bliss, commutably so. The assumption that I will always get a seat in the morning has proven questionable, but I was able to find a corner spot today. I would expect to always be able to score something by Queensboro Plaza. I’ve removed strawberries from my daily morning consumption. They will likely retur but for now I find them too undependable in quality and too expensive. I’ve switched to street foodcart grub, a far more filling sausage egg and cheese gruel that does not leave me hungry as hell by 10am.
Yesterday was bad but today seems better. Someone smiled and said hi to me. That is not extremely rare but it is not to be expected.
What am I talking about? Why am I talking about anything? I noticed the appearance on Telegram of a woman I dated very briefly before Covid. I was seeing three women at once and she was the least engaged/engaging of the three. We had common ground with our mutual interest in cemeteries and death but somehow that parlayed into little more than me heaping praise upon her while my experience and work in the realm was ignored. Her web presences are exactly the same as they were pre-Covid. I was going to message her but when I remembered the landscape of her persona I said fuck it. She didn’t want me for anything but sex, and it was uninspiring to say the least. I barely remember it but then it is common for me to black out sexual encounters, at least in part. The last encounter I had with the woman who told me to fuck off the very next day was memorable for many things, but I completely black out on the cunnilingus, I suppose because that is what I wanted the most and getting it is not as easy as it used to be. Women don’t want it like they did when we were all younger. So when I do get it I guess I go white inside, which is my term for panic/anxiety. It’s a phenomenon I’ve read about from people who go to large mega-concerts. They say that if not for the photos and videos they took of the event they would have no memory of being there. I have no photos or videos of our cunnilingus sessions and thus I have no memory except to know that it happened. She remembered. I do remember feeling the wetness on my face when I withdrew my tongue and came up for air. That memory will suffice.
Nothing good ever happens on Telegram. I’ve been saying that since long before the “Dark Web In Your Pocket” articles exposed what a cesspool of illegal shit goes on there. Some of the people who show up as being connected to me are unknown to me, probably originating from a burner phone used by someone on a dating app.
