play a song for me [07 Sep 2009|12:28pm] [ mood | accomplished ] finished portrait. my essay is all but written in my head. i need to write it soon, so i can start putting my notes together for my dystopian paper. it is only twelve-thirty. i made up for saturday with today. i've got this near-constant ache somewhere between my prostate and my penis, which is impossible to masturbate away, and which makes concentrating on anything a nearly vertical ascent. and my dreams don't help either. i have seven or eight trysts a night, but rather than being able to relish in the conjured physical sensations, because my awareness of them is intrinsically tied to my waking up, so that they are in a constant state of flight, fleeing from me, and i feel even more alone. today i could: finish the first edit-through of my book. start my essay. rent more movies. i don't know. i am tired. i don't feel like reading, and i am tired of our uncomfortable-ass chairs. sometimes i worry i don't have the mettle for this world i've found myself in.

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