My Right Hand

Used for writing, typing, masturbating, and counting the amount of men who I have been truly interested in head over heals but alas God is smacking me across the face with a tool of ancient torture, leaving me with a bag of issues yet to be completely resolved. So, after much discussion with Alex, consulting astral charts, numbering all the characters in the Torah and then, going backwards, taking out those characters whose numbers are part of the Fibonacci set and deciphering the Sepharadic spew that resulted, and having too much coffee to the point of having diarrhea on a large piece of pure white papyrus and reading the splatter as if it were a Rorschach inkblot test, I have come up with the following number that accurately represents how many men I have met in my life who are of the above, and whose criteria will be enumerated shortly:

                                                              5.37 + / - 0.37

And there you have it!

NUMBER ONE!

He was quite the intelligent one. Has been to many places, held many an unconventional belief, dressed simply and yet an attractive degree of fucked-up-ness, and had insecurities, the ones which I would love to fix and consequently gain his affections because I have done so myself. But then there was tthat nasty game of tag that overgrown children game in an adult's world, he didn't step up, and yet it's likely that there was no interest to begin with for I could have been delusional.

FUNNY!

NUMERO DOS!

Number two was the straightest man alive. He wasn't much of a looker but I'm sure he would have been a REAL GOOD FUCK and probably had a fat dick, too. To say that he was involved in illegal things would be an understatement, and I knew that if I crossed him, I would be added to  that tally of illegalities. He was also quite crass and base. But by getting to know him I learned that he was one of the most caring individuals I have ever met, if only under a disguise that even fooled him at times. Or perhaps I'm in denial in displacing all that evil to something I wish he could take off.

There's a joke in there about his wished-for cock doing me with vigor.

Either way, despite all the rage and hatred there was love that I would have put myself through risk to get, and not for me but for him to just be able to provide without metaphorical knives stabbing his skull all the while.

But then things got complicated and he sought oil in the Praries.

第三

A friend. I think when I moved here we had a conversation in which we may have actually admitted that there was something between us, but we never quite acted on it. Thinking about it now, I wish I was not such a chickenshit. Our intellects combined and made a fire that never needed fire from without, and yet we were still able to enjoy just being plain stupid. He gets a little negative sometimes, and sometimes he gets insecure about his hair: little does he know that for all that he is, that is but the smallest of concerns. If there was a chance of anything happening, I take all the blame for none of it happenning.

NUMERO QUATRE

He messged me online and said he wanted to fuck my forty-nine different ways to Sunday. I told him I was not into meeting people to have sex, and so he sent me a picture of his penis to my phone. BTW, try trimming just a bit. I called him an idiot for thinking that sending me nudy pics would change my mind, but yet he said that hey I was interesting and so perhaps it wouldn't be so futile as to actually take me out on a date. It's this fuckwit that actually inspired this long entry right here. He offered the fucking of a life time, crass sailor bantor, yet was able to talk about intelligent things in the most base ways possible and about the most base with such insight. We are supposed to be on that date now but alas, complete no reply to message and e-mail left. Like I said, it's always the most interesting ones...

IF YOUR COUNTING SKILLS ARE INTACT, I NEED NOT TELL YOU WHICH NUMBER WE ARE AT

Everyone thought he was gay. Some of us still do. Upon occasion I maintain fantasies that he is. Whatever everything may be, all that is is and what is not is not and one shall simply take that at face value if one is to lead life with a few less troubles. But you will forgive me if this guy did have dried flowers and paintins and discussed his interior decorating plans using the word "mustard". Ah, Rico, you're the only one in this list who I was actually honest about how I felt about you. You do paint yourself in rather dreary tones, and sometimes you are justified in doing so for sometimes you can be quite frightful, but when you do love it gives all those who are around you the energy to continue if not for another day.

THE FRACTIONS THAT REMAIN

Ah, but this entry is about what has passed. Give me another month or so. And I'm not even sure if I like you.

Sarah MacLachlan

Listening to Sarah MacLachlan - her name is hard to spell in the morning. Thought that despite whatever changes have came to pass, I need to be more passioned. It's so easy when you are drunk, or at least tipsy, when everything develops a warm glow because you yourself are burning up with desire and potential, where everything can be within your reach if you only but dared to reach.

And then I woke up this morning, as sober as ever.

I was supposed to have a hot date tonight with this guy, but I don't think that is going to pull through. Why is it that the hot ones are the ones that are structurally impossible to get, if not for long? I mean, I hve understood perhaps it was a manifestation of an insecuirty to never actually find myself in a situation for two, but I think that has changed now...

This entry is becoming quite morose, isn't it? That's what you get for listening to Sarah MacLachlan when you wake up. I'm sure had I started the day with Underworld's Pearl's Girl (but the remix), the morning would be a little more interesting. Or what about I Found You by Interestate, but remixed by Armin Van Buuren? I don't know why, but that song rings of passion to me.

Another condition for the monotony that I find myself presently is being a cheap-ass bastard. In a little over four months (OH MY GOD!), I'm leaving this country and embarking on a massive Asian backpacking trip, which will hopefully include Thailand, the Phillipines, Vietnam, Cambodia, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, China, Hongkong, Nepal, and even India if I can get that far. I want to have quite a bit of cash when I do leave, and so that has been involving 50,000 yen a month stashed away in the bank account. While Japan has been and will continue to be fun, it seems like this trip is the endgame for me. What makes me a little sad is that while Eri still plans to come with me to Thailand, I don't think she's up for the entire extravaganza. It would be really nice to do what will be the biggest trip and most fantastic experience in my life with her, but I'm sure I'll manage.

There have been a lot of goodbyes said, there will be more, and then there will be those final goodbyes which are I am fullheartedly dreading. Rico left, Rachel left, Jonathan's leaving, then it will be those from our training group, and then it will be us, Eri, Nicky, and I.

Consider me cold but I do know that everything that happens on this planet will be finite. At times it's a slap across the face and at times it's an advance warning for what's to come ahead. It seems of late I've been taking a liking to men who are leaving Japan, which I guess is fine and well seeing that I am one of them. Would it not be great to live each and everyday with passion as if it were your last? And I don't mean that in some cliched sort of way, because chances are that today is not your last, but to just capitalize on feeling and doing everything to it's fullest extent because once that moment is gone, you can never get it back and just imagine how your soul can be hounded with counterfactuals and past hypotheticals, of all that you didn't do because of whatever. And then how cold you would be left.

But despite the above, I'm completely fine. Yeah, this entry is quite negative, but luckily I've accepted - or so I think I have - that in life there is always a great deal of negativity. But it's all about how you deal with it - and not avoiding it - that decides just how much tissue paper you consume on a monthly basis. It's like an orgasm fucked to you with a knife.