The captain of the sinking crystal ship was recently congratulated on expressing his feminine side through the writings of this diary. Now that’s a laugh. The captain of this hole-ridden blog is a misogynist who in his own words would happily fuck a narwhal. I, on the other hand, have standards when it comes to deciding who I want to sleep with. No man or woman has refused me yet, though after 29 years of fucking around, I’m beginning to think that sex is overrated.
I prefer to sleep with men and women I know or even like. Otherwise, as I stare into the face of the stranger pounding me, I think of the lines from TS Eliot’s Wasteland. I summarise: She is bored and tired, he endeavours to engage her in caresses, which though unreproved are undesired. His vanity requires no response.
And at the end of banal interlude, you get up and say, “Well, thank god that’s over.” That’s what it boils down to.
2 comments:
The dark side of your musings reveal a degree of Crowleyanity never before seen in the uninitiated. As is written, you will soon be revealed as the Golden Child for the Eon of Horus. How does 4 o'clock on Thursday sound?
thursday 4 o'clock sounds perfect. what exactly do you have in mind? though, let me warn you, i have to stay away from sex and alcohol for two weeks. doctor's orders.
PS: never pretend that the things you haven't got are not worth having.
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