… me masturbating and trying to get off, of course. What else?

Yup, it’s going to be one of THOSE posts.

I didn’t make it, as usual. And I used to blame that all on the side effects of my two antidepressants, Wellbutrin and Paxil (or Welly and Pax, as nobody calls them.)

But now I know what the real problem is and it’s porn.

NOT THE PORN! Say it ain’t so, Fru!

It’s so, kid.

But let me explain.

When I am jacking off to pornography, I am always looking for more stimulation. Nothing is ever good enough because part of me is always holding out for something even MORE stimulating, and that leads me to be, unconsciously, fighting my own orgasm,.

No wonder I can’t cum! My poor balls are so blue.

So I just wasted an hour of my limited time on Earth flogging away at my private little porkchop while trying to Google (or elsewhere) search up the mythological perfect piece of pornography to jack off to.

And that’s like chasing the horizon. You can never get there.

The first step of the solution, then, is to slow the fuck down. If I find a picture or video stimulating, linger there. Soak it in. Get all the stimulation from it I can. Be slow, even reluctant, to move on to the next whatever.

The real solution, however, is the more drastic one : give up the porn entirely. Rely instead on my sweet little imagination. That way, I don’t have to go looking for the next most stimulating thing.

I can just dream it up myself!

I mean, why look for things to spark my imagination when it can spark itself?

That’s what life was like before the Internet, after all. Back then, I had no access to porn (of my liking) at all, so my imagination was all I had.

And that actually worked just fine. Trust me on that.

And it resulted in a different kind of self-exploration. I had to plumb my depths (and depth my plums) in order to figure out what appealed to me.

When I think of how simple, even primitive, my fantasies were back then, I can’t help but find it downright adorable.

It’s like the growl of a puppy. Only with penises.

It is going to be a hard habit to break, though. The infinite well of erotic stimulation that is the Internet is so enticing, and there is much joy to be had exploring the depths of my own perversions via this happy medium.

Turns out they are pretty deep.

But when it comes to blasting off, porn leads me entirely in the wrong direction, and like many a reforming decadent before me, I am going to have to quit cold turkey for a while (also porn) before I can come back and maybe develop a healthier relationship with it..

I might use porn as, essentially, foreplay, but then I have to close the tab(s), close my eyes, and dream of what things may cum.

More after the break.

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OK, so I lied

I lied. There’s more poop news.

The good news is that everything has firmed up again. That orifice is once more passing solids and gases, not liquids.

Good lord, am I in a gross mood today. Blame it on having to take not one but TWO stool samples on consecutive days.

That’s bound to throw off my already none too steady sense of decency and decorum and boundaries and the rest of that boring crapola.

Get your gets the school supply they really want this year : this box of Crapola Crayons. 64 crayons in every box, every one of them Burnt Umber.

Anyhow, the long brown nightmare is over. In fact, things have kind of gone too far in the other direction.

What I am passing now is very, very firm. And dense. And weighty. And kind of spiky on the outside. And therefore not all that easy to pass.

The spikes are a tad ouchy and the turds are enormous agglutinized things that take a lot of effort and strain to pass.

I am not saying I miss the diarrhea. I am just saying that it was a lot less work.

Hopefully, this is a temporary phase. I imagine that what is happening now is that I am dealing with all the solid waste that my body could not handle and could not pass when all my gut flora were dead.

And that is potentially nine days of um…. backlog.

So to speak.

The spikes, I assume, are little bits of popcorn shell sticking out from the main mass.

As such, I assume they too will pass.

Again, so to speak.

Oh right, it’s Thursday

Had therapy today.

Which came as a surprise to me, as with all the kerfuffle about my supposed neurologist appointment today, I had totally forgotten that it was Therapy Thursday.

No harm done. I was just playing Baldur’s Gate 3 when the phone rang, and the nice thing about a turn based game is that you can walk away from it any time you like because you know nothing will happen till you take your next turn.

Right now I am tussling with a tough fight against the douchiest of wizards (and they start off pretty douchey) and his gang of elemental-warriors called Myrmidons.

I’ve lost to him twice because he has a lot of nasty tricks up his sleeve.

Then again, so do I.

And it pleases me to no end that, cocky sorcerer that I am, I get to tell him, “I have more power in my little finger than you have in this entire tower” before we fight.

It will be even better if I then kick his ass, of course. And I will. It’s only a matter of time and persistence as I try various stratagems.

Which are, overall, my favorite kind of gem.

Next time, I think I will ignore the Myrmidons and concentrate on pasting said wizard to the wall with a barrage of attacks that will hopefully kill him before he can get his defenses up and then I can mop up his cronies.

Wish me luck.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.