The End of It All

Here I am at work again about to to into a trans staring into a computer screen until my mind gets  blurry and I go into a waking sleep state. 

With all this talk about COVID-19 I am becoming acutely aware of my habits around touching my face/lips/tongue with my hands multiple times during the day.  I have often made mental notes to stop doing that but this hasn't taken me anywhere in terms of avoiding that bad habit.  I think this may be the time to actually make that adjustment.  Of course, as is typical, I don't know how I'm going to do that. 

I remember on Sunday asking my most excellent cuddle partner about how she overcame a habit she described as unhealthy.  After many leading questions it seems like she was inspired to read a book that really helped her to view life more positively.  I see that as a possible lesson that I need to  apply in my life.  I have a book to read as well, the Bible.  I haven't made much progress lately.  I did read a chapter in my spiritual easy book last night on the train ride home.  Ooooohhh, aaaaahhh, Mr Spiritual cries the crowd.  Suddenly forgetting the Gross Sins of the most recent weekend.  "Snap!" a shot rings out the accuracy of which instantly leaves your writer dead while standing, The only remaining body motion is the crumpling to the floor which is handled entirely by the force of gravity and the physical limitations of flexing limbs yet attached to muscles limp with indirection from the now shredded,  pulverized  and hence no longer functioning amygdala. 

Co-workers cower in fear as the assassin escapes.  Only after sufficient time has gone by to ensure reasonable safety.  By such time your writer's head is haloed with a mildly significant but no longer expanding pool of congealing blood mixed with bits of grey matter and other body fluids liberated as the rifle bullet tore through the necessary cranial mass and surrounding tissue.  And so it ends.  Finally this stinking fetid life has come to an end.  God will continue with His plans for the ending of this system of things and the start of the next.  It would be days before anyone is aware of the death of this writer.  And even then there is the obligatory concern, statements of sorrow to the one or two people who loved, at least at some point in time, the man, the coward, the evil doer. 

God's plans for his new system continue no longer encumbered by this piece of business, the permanent elimination of a discovered hypocrite.  More work is yet, but that is beyond the writer's concern.  For in that moment, his thoughts, hopes, dreams for himself and his family including his progeny have all and forevermore perished. 

But in actual fact that didn't happen.  No assassin is interested in the writer.  He doesn't rate that level of attention.

Its Bad

I'm really having a hard time recently realizing that my life has been such a complete and total failure.  Of course the only thing that means anything is spirituality and I am running negative in that category.  Professionally people look at me and laugh.  I look at myself and cry.  It's not a new realization.  I think it was somewhere around 10 - 15 years ago I recognized that my life was for sh*t.  I suppose as the reminders of my sh*tfull state keep rolling in fast and hard that I find my go-juice levels dangerously low, like now.

My current favorite cuddler should be back in town today.  I have an appointment for an overnight with her tomorrow night.  She hasn't confirmed though so I don't really know if that is going to happen.  I think it will, but who knows really?  Kids these days will cancel at the drop of a hat, and they do so by ghosting so you are never really sure if they will be there until they show up .

I keep contacting providers.  One of these is going to be a hit and I'll be committed to doing something that God hates.  I am just so lonely.  I feel so low all the time.  The drugs don't work anymore.  I'm not sure they ever really did work as I really wanted them to.  My continued isolation is making me more nervous around other people.  I really hate myself these days.

So I made arrangements with a provider for this afternoon.  I have done done it!  A sad day for me.

Break,

So based on my dive toward poverty I should be feeling pretty good now.  I met with a traditional provider on Friday and had my overnight cuddle session on Saturday to Sunday AM.  One would think that I am a happy man.  But no.  I am wracked with guilt and a fair bit of shame as well.  While it feels "good" (in a sense) that the ongoing pressure for trim has subsided, the now present guilt and shame is pretty uncomfortable.  My session with my favorite cuddler was every bit as successful and nice as I had hoped.  She was pleasant, easy to talk to and somewhat open in talking about her experience.  However it was just a business transaction.  There was a decided lack of interest and excitement in her seeing me.  Her only really sincere question was whether she could see me again in the next 3 weeks she was in town.

Of course I will.  But that will probably be the last time.  She will be out of town for the next year or so, going here and there to either facilitate, assist or take part in as a student various seminars and training classes on massage therapy and some kind of touch healing.  By that I don't mean some supernatural power, (not so far as I know anyway) but more along the lines of emotional soothing and calming to facilitate the recipient's ability to deal with emotions and past trauma.  I'm not into all that but the woman is a great cuddler.  She enjoys the touch and gives back eagerly.  There is no love there but the affection seems real.

This coming Thursday Olivia is in town.  I'm scheduled to do a dinner/cuddling session with her.  Its still a grand just for her fee.  add in Dinner and the hotel and we are looking at a 1500 evening.  Oh and no, she isn't going to fall in love with me either.  Now if I could just make myself believe that I might actually call off this nonsense.  In all seriousness I feel a backlash internally welling up as I contemplate the amount of cash expended on my stupidity in this regard.  It is truly staggering.  And all of it is of no lasting benefit.  AAMOF it only goes to accelerate my demise.  Back in the day I lamented the one or two hundred dollars I must have spent on skin mags (as they were called then.)  Oh how little I knew of my future profligancy.  My stupidity sickens me.  Even as I contemplate this issue I realize that my focus is on the wasted money, not the wasted innocence.  Even the extent to which I continue to anger God and test his patience.  I am just so very stupid, grossly so.

So it is meeting day.  I see that the congregation whose meetings I had been attending are now going to meetings at a new location which is more convenient for me.  I hope I choose to take advantage of it but I honestly don't think I will.  I just haven't been praying for the strength to do so.  And even when I do pray, I usually don't go.

This is really bad.