I saw the weirdest porno today.
This guy was washing a pair of boxer shorts. He was washing them by hand and moaning as he did it. After a while, he wrung them out and put them on. He stood admiring them in the mirror, or maybe it was his boner that had caught his eye. His specs were the mirrored kind. I couldn’t see where he was looking.
I wonder what kind of porn that was? Like, what would you call that? Is there a fetish for wearing wet clothes? (Google says there is, and it’s called “wetlook.” I hadn’t seen that before. Hadn’t heard of it, even. Anyway, there it is.)
It’s been a while since I’ve got bored enough to look up weird porn. I finished writing those two books, and I’m waiting for the next one. I have nothing to do, really, nothing but read and sleep and look at things on the Internet. Maybe I’ll look up brand name porn–Coca-Cola, Thighmaster, Chef Boyardee. Do people get into that? Only one way to find out…
Surely, I can find something better to do. It’s just, these work gaps put me into a stupor. It’s like I stop working and my whole brain shuts down. I turn into this sloth, this…this slug in human drag. I can’t seem to rouse myself, or muster interest in anything. What has become of me, that I live for work? I seem to remember once working to live.
(There is Coca-Cola porn. I just checked Pornhub. How in the fuck did she fit…never mind.)
Another thing I did today—I went on Amazon and looked up a book I wanted to write, but someone else got the job. It had bad reviews, and its sales rank was dismal. I shouldn’t have been pleased, and I wasn’t, not really. But I did get a smug feeling, like ha. Serves you right. Why pick anyone but me for a tale of revenge? I stole a knife to gut my enemies! I plotted and schemed—six murders, I planned! (I didn’t do them, of course. I didn’t kill anyone. But I wanted to, meant to, would’ve if I could. If I didn’t have a conscience. If the murder dream were real.)
So that’s been my day, smirking at the competition, looking at weird porn. I should be embarrassed, right? Right. Shame on me.