The Lechery, it comes in waves these days. Distraction and not distraction. And these tos and fros they leave me dizzy all the time. Dizzy enough to make strange mistakes which turn out to burn out whole skin parts, but then make you hornier anyways. So there was and is this constant back pain, which I wanted to solve by using this high quality warming gel. Actually no need for explanation what happened next. Obviously, well naturally my hands slide into my pants all the time at the moment (unless I'm in the bathtub, then they just go under water) - just for a gentle touch, haha. But this time it was a pure fire touch. How arousing though in a weird way. Suddenly balls and dick are on fire. Warmth, heat - not chili-ish luckily ('cause this experience right after cutting peppers has been fucking hardcore and ended with banging heads on the bathroom wall, chili tears coming up and hard pressure water jets from the shower trying to hose that shit off). But this time, OMG, I couldn't possibly stop my dick from being hard - what's currently hardly managable anyways (coincidence perhaps) - until the effect stopped. Oioioioi. I decided to prolong the effect a bit by adding more gel. But then stuck: and thought, ey, wait, maybe it's weird to like that, so I googled further (well, actually I just wanted to look for an appropriate translation to be honest). Hahahahahaha. And what do I find:
http://www.durex.com/en-GB/Products/Lubes/Pages/PlayWarming.aspx
Muahhuahhua...I'm not alone. Oh damn it, if I just could masturbate now. But whatever. I already massively calmed down, even though waves of horniness are hitting me to the ground from time to time. Still, two days ain't that much anymore. And right now I'm not even feeling insane. Insanity will come back, I know...but waves, waves, waves. Maybe I can podcast that...me winding, moaning, yearning for satisfaction. Just now it's not the right time for it: the cat is save.
Only fucking 2 more days!!!
222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ten Days Without Masturbation - A Diary
Getting over the addiction is the plan. And a 10 days no more masturbation therapy is supposed to help. We'll see how long and if and why. On this blog I will describe my daily change of mind and feelings. Getting insane? Or not? Exploding? That's exactly what I've heard. Random man exploding, disappearing entirely, just leaving a spot of slippery sperm - nothing else. Am I scared? Yes, a little bit. But I will overcum my fear of exploding and go on with this.
Montag, 21. Februar 2011
Freitag, 18. Februar 2011
Lick the Cat
Everything seemed to be sort of okay today. Woke up and almost felt that sweet nothingness inside. Then this pathetic energy. Surrounded by music: D'n'B and cooking pho bo. Cambodian Rock and the search for a film about that Ros Sereysothea girl. Danced a little. Okay, use the energy I said to myself. Place yourself in front of the laptop I said. Look whose online I said. Get distraction I said. But it all ended in the same circle of horniness and death as usual. Oh, there she went online the little pervert comrade of mine and explained to me how she would like to take random boys on collar and leash, let them crawl in front of her and lick her boots and pussy. There it all was gone. All the concentration and well meant resolutions, ground within a second, dissolved in a puddle of bubbling hormones and then shot up into the erectile tissue of my dick. I complained of course. Why should anyone make everything worse by describing sexual scenes to me? And even I explained my situation before, then stupidly ran into the leash kid trap. But even so I complained, the response was that I might just need a little spanking. And so, if right or not (tendentially right), the scene stuck in my head the whole day and caused that constant erection which didn't let me stand up from my seat. I roughly grabbed my ass and hoped for relieve.
Oh, and did I mention that I stay at my parents place for the sake of some family party? Oh yes, here we face the problem even more. I'm trapped with a hard dick in my pants - and sometimes, without even noticing, in my hands. I don't know what to do here. Can't even talk. Probably soon won't be able to write. Maybe turning the blog into a podcast if nothing works anymore - especially in case that I call the ambulance to tie me up on the bed. Wahhhhhh. Tied up? Even this masturbation preventing action has a sweet sexual connotation. Everything, it seems, has. This juicy orange I press for the soup - a wet pussy. The chocolate truffes de france I eat - they strangely resemble boobs: then pussy again when I cut them into halfs and lick the soft, tasty liquid inside out of them. Wah, wah, wah. There we go. And I even consider my cat having a sexy ass just out of the sudden. Fucking goddamn it I think, let's lick the cat.La Le Chat!!! Slowly I crawl up to her and try to stroke her with my tongue. Stroke of fate: she runs away and I'm left alone with a tuft of fur in my mouth. Meow, meow, meow...hahahahah: the cats are calling! At least the hair dries all saliva of lechery up for a bit.
About four or five days left till I'm gonna reach that very preferred pussy of mine - I've lost my ability to count: DEGENERATION!
Oh, and did I mention that I stay at my parents place for the sake of some family party? Oh yes, here we face the problem even more. I'm trapped with a hard dick in my pants - and sometimes, without even noticing, in my hands. I don't know what to do here. Can't even talk. Probably soon won't be able to write. Maybe turning the blog into a podcast if nothing works anymore - especially in case that I call the ambulance to tie me up on the bed. Wahhhhhh. Tied up? Even this masturbation preventing action has a sweet sexual connotation. Everything, it seems, has. This juicy orange I press for the soup - a wet pussy. The chocolate truffes de france I eat - they strangely resemble boobs: then pussy again when I cut them into halfs and lick the soft, tasty liquid inside out of them. Wah, wah, wah. There we go. And I even consider my cat having a sexy ass just out of the sudden. Fucking goddamn it I think, let's lick the cat.
About four or five days left till I'm gonna reach that very preferred pussy of mine - I've lost my ability to count: DEGENERATION!
Donnerstag, 17. Februar 2011
Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy
Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Schopenhauer Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The cat's are callin!!!!
Insanity!!!
Explooooosions!!!
;(
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The cat's are callin!!!!
Insanity!!!
Explooooosions!!!
;(
Mittwoch, 16. Februar 2011
Life as Soap
The giant pussy is haunting me. No chance to get rid of her. She's omnipresent. And miaows! Calling for me! Pussy's all around.
Today it's been suggested to drug me with sleeping pills and sell me to Soap Enterprise Ltd. And for some weird reason I suddenly found the idea of being a piece of soap quite tempting. Oh, what a life it would be. Life as Soap. Surely a short life, but so fullfilling. Just imagine you would be vagina soap, getting your soap head and soap dick rubbed on pussy all day long. It could last for some weeks even - this rubbing life and hopefully, yes hopefully you would even end up inside (if the damn assholes of Soap Enterprise Ltd. would finally come up with that two in one dildo shaped vagina soap, but no!!!).
Anyways, like every piece of soap you would eventually end up in a dark, shitty hole. Nah, not anus, even if that needs cleaning from time to time as well. Rather you would vanish more and more, drop by drop falling down with some of the vagina liquids, killed bacteria and skin particles into the bathtub. Unplugged: washed away, disappearing in a dark and smelly pipe that leads straight to the canalisation. That's the death of all the soap, weather it's for facial, anal or vaginal use. Everything ends up there. All the dreams we held so close, seemed to all go down in soap.
So I started dreaming about this all day long, but suddenly a foreign thought encountered my mind. A thought that straightly tried to battle my dreams, ripping all my soapy fantasy apart - literally into some liquid substance called pure disappointment. So it was said that vagina soap is only sold liquidisedly? What pleasure's this gonna be? It immediately became obvious to me that a liquid couldn't have any feelings, no sensations at all. You would just briefly touch the labia and then instantly turn into some sort of foam. drop drop drop...you just drop, but won't get thouroughly rubbed. No satisfaction anymore, no fullfillment. Oh, what do these liquid soaps live for? Even if they have some use to others, they'll never be able to feel the same as soap bars do. Trying to hold on tied to the vagina, but sliding away, running down along the thigh or dropping from the comparably tall height down to the steal enamel bottom of the tub.
Pure melancholy rose up in me. I nearly started to cry. My sweet pervert thoughts crashed by such simple facts of reality and goddamn it yes, I started to curse the fucking fucked up soap companies, who just don't manage to produce savely insertable soap bars. At least dildo shaped they could be, brought with a huge supply of condoms, which diminish in size every day as the soap dick's getting smaller drip by drip. They could perfectly protect vaginas from possible candidosis. But then you could just use real dildos instead. Ah, maybe I just become one of them, drop the soap idea or just get more involved into facesitting.
My words are meant with INSANITY!!!
BTW...SOAP JOKES..
"Why Do They Use Powdered Soap In The Navy?
Because It Takes Longer To Pick Up."
"One day a kid asks his mom if he can take a shower with her. She says, "Sure son, but don't look up and don't look down."
So they're taking a shower and the kid reaches up for the soap and he says, "Woo mama! What are those?"
She says, "Those are my headlights." The kid says "Ahh."
Then he drops the soap and bends down to get it and he says, "Woo mama! What is that?" and she replies back with, "That is my garage." The kid says "Ahh."
The next day he asks his dad if he can take a shower with him. The kid does. As he's scrubbing himself with the soap, he drops it. When he picks it up he says, "Woo daddy! What is that?" The father replies back, "That's my limousine."
That night he asks his parents if he could sleep with them and they say, "Sure, just don't look under the covers."
Then in the middle of the night he decides to take a peek. And he says "Wooo mama! Look, daddy is parking his limousine in your garage!"
"Two priests were going to have there daily shower but when they reached the showers they discovered they had left there soap back at the dorms. One of the priests, without putting his clothes back on, desided that he would go and fetch the soap.One his way back to the showers with the soap he noticed that there was three nuns heading his way, so he decided to act like a statue.When the nuns reached him they commented on how life like he was. one of the nuns decided that she would tug on the priests penis.She tugged three times and a bar of soap popped out of the priests hand, the nun thought that she had found a soap dispencer.The second nun thought she would have her free soap so she tugged as well and out came the soap.Now it was the third nuns turn so she tugged on the penis and nothing came out so she tugged again and again.The nun was very pleased as the soap dispencer turned out to be a hand lotion machian as well!"
Today it's been suggested to drug me with sleeping pills and sell me to Soap Enterprise Ltd. And for some weird reason I suddenly found the idea of being a piece of soap quite tempting. Oh, what a life it would be. Life as Soap. Surely a short life, but so fullfilling. Just imagine you would be vagina soap, getting your soap head and soap dick rubbed on pussy all day long. It could last for some weeks even - this rubbing life and hopefully, yes hopefully you would even end up inside (if the damn assholes of Soap Enterprise Ltd. would finally come up with that two in one dildo shaped vagina soap, but no!!!).
Anyways, like every piece of soap you would eventually end up in a dark, shitty hole. Nah, not anus, even if that needs cleaning from time to time as well. Rather you would vanish more and more, drop by drop falling down with some of the vagina liquids, killed bacteria and skin particles into the bathtub. Unplugged: washed away, disappearing in a dark and smelly pipe that leads straight to the canalisation. That's the death of all the soap, weather it's for facial, anal or vaginal use. Everything ends up there. All the dreams we held so close, seemed to all go down in soap.
So I started dreaming about this all day long, but suddenly a foreign thought encountered my mind. A thought that straightly tried to battle my dreams, ripping all my soapy fantasy apart - literally into some liquid substance called pure disappointment. So it was said that vagina soap is only sold liquidisedly? What pleasure's this gonna be? It immediately became obvious to me that a liquid couldn't have any feelings, no sensations at all. You would just briefly touch the labia and then instantly turn into some sort of foam. drop drop drop...you just drop, but won't get thouroughly rubbed. No satisfaction anymore, no fullfillment. Oh, what do these liquid soaps live for? Even if they have some use to others, they'll never be able to feel the same as soap bars do. Trying to hold on tied to the vagina, but sliding away, running down along the thigh or dropping from the comparably tall height down to the steal enamel bottom of the tub.
Pure melancholy rose up in me. I nearly started to cry. My sweet pervert thoughts crashed by such simple facts of reality and goddamn it yes, I started to curse the fucking fucked up soap companies, who just don't manage to produce savely insertable soap bars. At least dildo shaped they could be, brought with a huge supply of condoms, which diminish in size every day as the soap dick's getting smaller drip by drip. They could perfectly protect vaginas from possible candidosis. But then you could just use real dildos instead. Ah, maybe I just become one of them, drop the soap idea or just get more involved into facesitting.
My words are meant with INSANITY!!!
BTW...SOAP JOKES..
"Why Do They Use Powdered Soap In The Navy?
Because It Takes Longer To Pick Up."
"One day a kid asks his mom if he can take a shower with her. She says, "Sure son, but don't look up and don't look down."
So they're taking a shower and the kid reaches up for the soap and he says, "Woo mama! What are those?"
She says, "Those are my headlights." The kid says "Ahh."
Then he drops the soap and bends down to get it and he says, "Woo mama! What is that?" and she replies back with, "That is my garage." The kid says "Ahh."
The next day he asks his dad if he can take a shower with him. The kid does. As he's scrubbing himself with the soap, he drops it. When he picks it up he says, "Woo daddy! What is that?" The father replies back, "That's my limousine."
That night he asks his parents if he could sleep with them and they say, "Sure, just don't look under the covers."
Then in the middle of the night he decides to take a peek. And he says "Wooo mama! Look, daddy is parking his limousine in your garage!"
"Two priests were going to have there daily shower but when they reached the showers they discovered they had left there soap back at the dorms. One of the priests, without putting his clothes back on, desided that he would go and fetch the soap.One his way back to the showers with the soap he noticed that there was three nuns heading his way, so he decided to act like a statue.When the nuns reached him they commented on how life like he was. one of the nuns decided that she would tug on the priests penis.She tugged three times and a bar of soap popped out of the priests hand, the nun thought that she had found a soap dispencer.The second nun thought she would have her free soap so she tugged as well and out came the soap.Now it was the third nuns turn so she tugged on the penis and nothing came out so she tugged again and again.The nun was very pleased as the soap dispencer turned out to be a hand lotion machian as well!"
Montag, 14. Februar 2011
The Weekend
Weekends - that's a good thing - they bring distraction. So therefore, even though masturbation was strictly prohibited until the 13th I could cope with all the sexual pressure for a little while. Still, parties get boring if you're to fixed on horniness and the only people who are around want to talk about career bullshit. Ah whatever. Somehow I luckily made it until sunday, even though my eyes almost fell out the day before by staring at every ass and every titties that walked by. Anyways it's for the sake of the bet and probably the world's biggest orgasm on the 23rd.
Sunday was the last chance to get rid off the liquids in my testicles. Stupidly the girl from Ukraine who moves into my flat already arrived, so it was rather hard to lean back and jerk off. Luck that there's always a bathroom. And as I'm not sure yet if it's gonna be the last sperm of my life or not - you never know what happens: plane crash, car crash, explosions - I nicely filled it into a bottle and wrote date, place and dedication on it. Oh, what a nice present it's gonna be. And there was so much trickiness in getting that juice into that wee bottle hole. I managed - but it took time.
Sunday was the last chance to get rid off the liquids in my testicles. Stupidly the girl from Ukraine who moves into my flat already arrived, so it was rather hard to lean back and jerk off. Luck that there's always a bathroom. And as I'm not sure yet if it's gonna be the last sperm of my life or not - you never know what happens: plane crash, car crash, explosions - I nicely filled it into a bottle and wrote date, place and dedication on it. Oh, what a nice present it's gonna be. And there was so much trickiness in getting that juice into that wee bottle hole. I managed - but it took time.
Freitag, 11. Februar 2011
Prostate Cancer
So was I wrong all the time? Receiving the information today that too much sex and too much masturbation actually causes prostate cancer, rather than the other way around, I'm puzzled completely. Stupid science stuff. Probably it's even just statistics - who's gonna believe that? Never believe statistics you didn't fake yourself! So a couple of years ago this one survey found out that frequent ejaculation actually prevents cancer:
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn4861-frequent-ejaculation-may-protect-against-cancer.html
A third less likely!!! Okay, I on the other side, masturbate more than 21 times per month, what might just be too much for such a small prostate. In anyway, I've been doing this only because this research plausibly showed me that it's important to "clear the pipe". So all those years, while getting more and more blind for the sake of my prostate it actually didnt help? Great! My eye sight is lost, and my prostate as well.
So that's apparently the latest counter study on that topic:
http://www.livescience.com/7658-masturbation-increase-risk-prostate-cancer.html
So whom am I gonna believe now? The livescience magazine or the new scientist. Well, new scientist sounds newer even though it's older. And also this "MAY" cause prostate cancer, "MAY" prevent disturbs me. Actually it seems that they have no idea.
So: Masturbate More!!!
(Well, that doesn't count for me, as there's still two weeks to go and the next wanking hour's gonna be on the 13th)
And read this: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/sex-dawn/200901/masturbation-paranoia-may-cause-cancer
The anger about this study helped me to survive the day!
Thank You!
In the US study, the group with the highest lifetime average of ejaculation - 21 times per month - were a third less likely to develop the cancer than the reference group, who ejaculated four to seven times a month.
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn4861-frequent-ejaculation-may-protect-against-cancer.html
A third less likely!!! Okay, I on the other side, masturbate more than 21 times per month, what might just be too much for such a small prostate. In anyway, I've been doing this only because this research plausibly showed me that it's important to "clear the pipe". So all those years, while getting more and more blind for the sake of my prostate it actually didnt help? Great! My eye sight is lost, and my prostate as well.
So that's apparently the latest counter study on that topic:
http://www.livescience.com/7658-masturbation-increase-risk-prostate-cancer.html
Among men with prostate cancer, 34 percent had masturbated frequently in their 20s, compared to 24 percent among the control group. A similar spread was found for men in their 30s.
So whom am I gonna believe now? The livescience magazine or the new scientist. Well, new scientist sounds newer even though it's older. And also this "MAY" cause prostate cancer, "MAY" prevent disturbs me. Actually it seems that they have no idea.
So: Masturbate More!!!
(Well, that doesn't count for me, as there's still two weeks to go and the next wanking hour's gonna be on the 13th)
And read this: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/sex-dawn/200901/masturbation-paranoia-may-cause-cancer
The anger about this study helped me to survive the day!
Thank You!
Donnerstag, 10. Februar 2011
Creativity? Insanity? Delusion or Dillusion?
Today I got overwhelmed by an almost unbearable creativity. Creativity that almost intertwined with mere insanity. Dillusion: I seriously came up with the idea to change my hometown on facebook into Lagos, Nigeria after having talked me into some shit on a party some nights before. The old strategy: getting to know people, performing, entertaining, making oneself interesting. So as usual I pleaded for more lies and more hate, started up with a story that my grandpa was a Japanese emigrant in Chile, married in Santiago, fucked his wife lots, thus produced a child which herself emigrated to Nigeria, where she met her husband...blablabla...I'm a mix of it all. Evene started a blog on that:
http://nigerian-history.blogspot.com
Okay, all that seemed to have been a story until last week. But now since I stopped masturbating I more and more believe that. At least the obsession starts to grow and I feel the strong need to make that new lifestory more perfect, more round. I filled it with plausible details. Grandpa worked for Mitsubishi in the war, mum was a communist. I give myself two more weeks and I will be completely occupied with this idea. I won't even recognise my own parents perhaps. Who knows what's gonna happen. I already can feel the hazard this experiment is putting on me. Couldnt stop touching my dick while not writing on lifestories. Music played in loops for hours. Kino - Zakroi za mnoi dver. My flat reminds me on a madhouse - not that I've ever been in one. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Loops, loops, loops and more freaky ideas. Tried to put this semen in brain connected creativity into my thesis, but I'm really not sure if that worked. When writing it, the text looked completely normal and made sense - scientifically high value. I just overlooked it a minute ago though with a clear mind (masturbated one time, as today is the 10th, so according to the plan I was allowed to) and it was a sheer stringing together of the word pussy for almost six pages. I definitely can't hand this paper in and have to rewrite it one more time. At least I always spelled the word pussy correctly - maybe I just copied and pasted: frankly speaking I can't remember. And that's the scary thing. I was in a trance like state of mind, mixing up reality and stories, dreams and rational thinking. For the text outcome it was still worth it. I will publish the pussy essay as some sort of postmodern art or dadaism. Or is that art brut already? I mean, I was clearly insane, didn't know what I did - no connection or even intention to art.
At the end of the day the pressure was so goddamn big, I could not even stop laughing and talking insane shit. When midnight came I was prepared to get all that poisonous semen out of my body. It shot up with enormous power. tremendous! Less than a minute and I was free of this cage of delusion. Unfortunately I won't be able to repeat that after waking up. tragic! That means another day in desperation. But one day's gonna be fine - everything that comes up's gonna be scary.
http://nigerian-history.blogspot.com
Okay, all that seemed to have been a story until last week. But now since I stopped masturbating I more and more believe that. At least the obsession starts to grow and I feel the strong need to make that new lifestory more perfect, more round. I filled it with plausible details. Grandpa worked for Mitsubishi in the war, mum was a communist. I give myself two more weeks and I will be completely occupied with this idea. I won't even recognise my own parents perhaps. Who knows what's gonna happen. I already can feel the hazard this experiment is putting on me. Couldnt stop touching my dick while not writing on lifestories. Music played in loops for hours. Kino - Zakroi za mnoi dver. My flat reminds me on a madhouse - not that I've ever been in one. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Loops, loops, loops and more freaky ideas. Tried to put this semen in brain connected creativity into my thesis, but I'm really not sure if that worked. When writing it, the text looked completely normal and made sense - scientifically high value. I just overlooked it a minute ago though with a clear mind (masturbated one time, as today is the 10th, so according to the plan I was allowed to) and it was a sheer stringing together of the word pussy for almost six pages. I definitely can't hand this paper in and have to rewrite it one more time. At least I always spelled the word pussy correctly - maybe I just copied and pasted: frankly speaking I can't remember. And that's the scary thing. I was in a trance like state of mind, mixing up reality and stories, dreams and rational thinking. For the text outcome it was still worth it. I will publish the pussy essay as some sort of postmodern art or dadaism. Or is that art brut already? I mean, I was clearly insane, didn't know what I did - no connection or even intention to art.
At the end of the day the pressure was so goddamn big, I could not even stop laughing and talking insane shit. When midnight came I was prepared to get all that poisonous semen out of my body. It shot up with enormous power. tremendous! Less than a minute and I was free of this cage of delusion. Unfortunately I won't be able to repeat that after waking up. tragic! That means another day in desperation. But one day's gonna be fine - everything that comes up's gonna be scary.
Abonnieren
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