I tried to finish that train station story but I can’t seem to concentrate well enough to write prose right now, so it will have to wait.
Admittedly, another part of the problem is that I don’t like how it is turning out. It doesn’t make a lot of narrative sense for the Dead Man to leap right into browbeating the narrator about the consequences of him “going home” so early in the story. It should be built up to slowly. I goofed there.
So I will have to move stuff around, and that takes yet another layer of mental complexity and emotional manuevering that I just plain do not have available to me at the moment in which I am writing this.
You can only play the hand you are dealt, not the one you wish you’d been dealt.
I feel a little less depressed than yesterday. Not a big difference but noticeable. Perhaps the improvement comes from the depression dump I did in yesterday’s blog entry.
Or maybe I am just too sleepy to be depressed.
I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I have gotten maybe 5 hours of sleep in the last 30 hours or so. And it hasn’t been very good quality sleep either.
There is nothing like lack of sleep to make you depressed.
There is nothing like depression to make you lack sleep.
It’s one hell of a catch.
So I should probably take my sleeping pill soon. Not today, because the effects can really drag on and I have stuff to do today, like go to Denny’s with my friends.
But maybe the next time I officially go to bed, which will be like 7 am tomorrow.
Well, after all, I am cold and dead inside, so it makes sense that I keep vampire hours.
I’m not really a vampire though. After all, they go out and find victims and have kinky blood sex orgies and do all kinds of things outside the home.
So I am more of an agoraphobic zombie than anything else. Except I don’t want to eat people’s brains. I have quite enough trouble dealing with the ones I got.
So what kind of undead just hangs around the same place all the time?
Oh duh. I got it.
I’m a ghost.
But I am a Canadian ghost, so I haunt very quietly and politely. Barely even attract attention to myself, really.
After all, I would hate to seem rude.
It’s an apt metaphor, really, because I am rarely seen and my existence is somewhat insubstatial. I often feel like I am not really here and that I don’t really exist. Things like light and love pass right through me. Patient readers know that I seem doomed to repeat the same patterns over and over again until I finbally resolve the problem that is keeping me from passing on to the next world.
Which in this case is the real world, the one where everyone else lives. Everyone healthy, anyway. The realm where people live lives that matter and do things that count and have no idea that phantasmal creatures like myself haunt their hallways.
Perhapos it’s better than way.
Needed naptime in a big way. No surprises there.
Glad I woke up before sundown, though. Even for someone with my very tenuous connection to the world and my instincts, going to sleep in the light and waking up in the dark feels all kinds of wrong.
Speaking of instincts, I have managed to get myself to ejaculate a few times since I last talked about my so-called sex life. But the odds are still very low. For every time I manage to get off, there are at least five jackoff sessions that end with not a bang but a whimper as I just plain run out of energy before I get anywhere.
Now I have talked about the antidepressants messing with the orgasm system before. Not a lot I can do about that. As horny and frustrated as I get, I am still not going to go off my meds just so I can finally cum.
Part of me is tempted, but most of me is too smart for that shit.
However, I have been wondering about the other factors interfering with my happy squirts. I think one of them is this tendency to defer pleasure compulsively in order to hold out for something even better.
Like sure, I am sexually stimulated by whatever porn I am attempting to enjoy now, but it might get even better later on, so I should hold off cumming just in case, otherwise I will feel like I wasted the opportunity to cum harder.
All of this is happening way deep in my mind, of course. Far below the level of conscious thought. But it’s happening nevertheless and it is clearly a bad system because by that logic, it’s never time to cum. There could ALWAYS be a level of superior stimulation right around the corner, no matter how stimulated I am at any given moment in the process.
At some point, you have to cash in your chips and go home.
And I would really like to be able to do that when I want to do it.
So clearly, I need to hack my bad brain processes. I keep telling myself to enjoy the ride and not worry about the destination, and it helps a little. So does telling myself to get off the bus at the first stop, so to speak.
But reprogramming oneself is never easy – thank goodness – and so for the most part, I remain frustrated and bored.
Boredom is another factor in my lack of ejaculatory success. The thing about the Net is that is lets you thoroughly explore every little fetish you have, and eventually you have seen it all and there is no true novelty any more.
Nor is there that intoxicating feeling of finding something so sexually amazing that it blows you mind (and your wad).
So I dunno. Normally I would just wait like a week without touching myself and let the sexual potential builds up that way, but lately I have been too horny to do that.
I guess I will just have to go on wanking without a cause.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.
Oh, PS, check out this crazy animation of gay butt fucking.
holy crap, that looks amazing. Better watch out, Tarzan,or you’re gonna bust that poor dude’s O-right with that thing.
He seems happy,though.