i broke it

i broke my dick. i have beaten it so far into submission that it tried to run away on the underground railroad. but i caught it in the night, strangled it to unconsciousness and returned it to its rightful place. so now it doesnt feel feelings anymore. i guess one of us has to not. but sometimes i wonder if other people do that... you know, drink till they dont feel feelings. or do blow till they dont feel feelings. or if they cant do either they just masturbate mercilessly and mirthlessly until they are completely numb. which is kind of hilarious if you think about it. i mean if you get started at midnight and cant get a nut off till 4 am it might mean that you would be better off just doing a couple shots or a couple couples of shots and calling it a night.

the upside though is that my left hand is slightly smoother than my right... which still makes it the equivalent of low grit sand paper. im not sure when i stopped yankin it with the right hand. probably computers. once i needed the right hand for browsing porn collections (turning pages with a left hand is easy, but mousing over your jerking right arm cuz the mouse wont reach the left side of the desk is torture) it was obvious what had to be done.

but i mean if working the muscles on your body makes them generally bigger does working your nerve endings mean they grow more receptive or is that just the opposite. i guess its the opposite. but wouldnt it be cool if the more drugs you did the fewer you needed to do because it made the receptors more sensitive instead of just more plentiful. or wait... nope. not going there. that is way too much science and i am out of my depth in neuroscience just by saying the word.

in other news however... i need to stop saying however as much as i do... im having trouble starting sentences in story telling that dont start with he, she, it, the, and other pronouns and nouns. i feel like this comes around every few months or so when i just get very conscious of patterns in my own writing and then all of my attention becomes momentarily focused on breaking out of the pattern and then i end up writing horribly stilted trash.

i want to put more sex in my writing. its very unsexy. more sex and more technology. more tits. more guns. i used to be a very technical kind of writer...very much about expa-something. the word starts with ex and i cant think of how it ends but i did that more. but since then i guess ive shifted toward human drama driving my fiction and its an odd feeling to want to do that ex thing about technology and finding it way less interesting the people behind the control panels. i mean dont get me wrong... i still love technology as much as the next guy but for some reason the descriptions just arent there these days. well theyre there i just have to force myself to give them some eye time.

sorry for the scattered nature of this post. actually nope not sorry. i had to do it. ive been beating off waaaay too much and i had to force myself to stop and write this. not that it means i will magically start beating off less, but at least ... at least what. im not sure.

okay had to pause a minute the take away message here is that i have no idea what the fuck im talking about... but at least i didnt have to talk to myself about it. thats the takeaway. orrr that seems cheap. the takeaway message here is that if you haven't fixed the id3 tags on your music you better fix those fuckers cuz i worked on my music library for nearly 4 hours yesterday. it was a pain in the ass. i only got through the A section.thats not it either. maybe ill do a pic of the day. i like pictures. so i will. spruce up the joint. ah here it is... takeaway message of the day is: stop beating off and go do something.

///way out west - "secret" a song so full of potential that is so god damn short. maybe it was supposed to be longer than 3:36. maybe my data transfer fucked up. but i love this song. it makes me wish sunrise and sunset was 11:30 minutes long and day light was 30 minutes and then 12 hours of night. i need to live somewhere that happens. but i mean those crazy scales. yeah that works as a description. no it doesnt. the way the scales (if you can call them that) rise and fall in those skipping steps makes me envision time lapsing headlights and high rise windows winking into bright existence while cars and people speed by below and who really gives a shit cuz im on the roof watching the night sky spin around me with a j and friends and lawn chairs and a box of 40s. those nights always end way too soon.