July 4

Last weekend had me hosting the friend of a friend’s friend. He’d come to my town for auditions and needed a place to stay, and I was the most comfortable option for him. He was to stay till Monday morning, and I was fine with that arrangement, especially since he’d feed himself and I’d spend minimally.

He arrived late in the evening with his tinted hair and soft voice. And I was quite friendly towards him as we cracked jokes and stuff. That night, hands roamed and things happened.

He told me the next day that he hadn’t had sex in ages (that explained some things), but that he felt a connection with me and all. And I could tell that he wanted to have another go at it. But I was not interested any longer. I felt bad. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I felt I’d used him to satisfy an immediate desire and now that it had been quenched, I wasn’t interested in touching him anymore, though he did have a cute butt.

Then the rest of the days were a bit trying for me. I live alone. And though sometimes I wish I had a roomie, it feels good to live alone. It appears that social interactions exhaust me. I’ve gone to places where people would be plenty and I’d have so much fun but I’d suddenly feel very mentally tired and grow quiet or go outside for some air.

He went for his auditions and came back, and I had to study, and he kept staring at me and it made me uncomfortable. And then the next day, after I’d downloaded a game I’d wanted to play for a long time, I could feel the boredom emanating from him. He even complained, and though at the back of my mind, I was thinking, “I’m not your babysitter”, I decided to be nice and gave him a few series to watch.

I’m not saying he was a bother, but I think he’d have loved my attention very much. I took solace in the fact that he’d be leaving Monday.

But then, he started to misyarn about extending his stay to Tuesday. Money issues, I was told. But my reaction probably told him it wasn’t a good idea and he managed to arrange something for Monday.

It was nice to have my room back.

Then someone I’d spoken briefly with was around and was hoping to spend the night at my place. I agreed. And so, I came face to face with someone who has refused to fully accept that he is gay. He is Christian, so it complicates the issue for him.

He said a lot of retarded things like how being gay was pervasive, how anal sex, no matter how carefully done, would damage the sphincter muscles and cause incontinence, how he was going to stop it all after he gets married.

I listened and I argued when I could. When he wanted to use the bible as a stand against gay marriage, I simply reminded him that the bible itself said that MAN’S Law would not always go hand in hand with GOD’s word, but that will never change what the bible has said. So why was he fretting over a change in the law of man? This education I got via a Facebook post.

He said this was a sign of the end times. I hate it when supposed Christians say “end times” like it’s a bad thing. You know what it means if it really is the end times? It means Jesus is coming back, and if you’re a Christian, excitement should be your major emotion, and not fear. So instead of praying for the salvation of America’s soul, why don’t you just pray that Jesus should come back as soon as He can, so that He can take you to heaven?

Someone however pointed out that churches might be forced to marry gay guys. I’m not too clear on that. I’d like to believe that the separation of the Church and State (is that it?) comes into play here and churches will still be able to decide who they want to marry.

Anyway, back to my internalised homophobia guy… I sort of made up my mind to not do anything with him before he’d start crying that he had sinned. I asked him that if he really intended to stop being gay or bi, then why did he travel all the way to my town to come see me. I asked him what would happen to his wife if he found out sex didn’t deaden his feelings for men. I told him that the way he was going about his life would most likely endanger his mental health, and that he should probably take some time to think things through. To think of what comes naturally to you as dirty and pervasive is to beat yourself up. You’re inflicting pain on yourself.

But he’s twenty-nine. He seems too far gone and too ingrained in his self loathing for any help.

I tried to explain to him that anal sex, when done wrong, definitely would damage the muscles. There are three major things to remember for safe anal sex:

Lots of lube! You can never have more than enough.

Don’t take in something that you know is too big for you. Basically you should listen to your body.

And don’t do drugs, because they can deaden or alter your perception of pain, meaning you’d think nothing is going wrong because you’re under the influence, whereas constant damage is going on.

Follow these three rules and you’ll be having anal sex for a very long time without anal incontinence happening. Like I wonder why people don’t read about sex! Ugh.

Anyway, he told me he doesn’t do anal because of incontinence. I asked him whether he’d been rimmed before. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word. Then I showed him later that night after he’d showered and the lights were off. There were sighs of contentment and pleasure from him and lots of ass clenching and precum. He told me I was good at what I do (I’m guessing he hasn’t had too many, Lol,) and he asked me to fuck him the next morning. As tempting as it was, I declined because I had early morning classes. So we went our separate ways.

I decided to ignore him henceforth and I hoped he’d do the same. But then he showed up on whatsapp and the convo went thus:

[03/07 5:36 PM] Ken: James

[03/07 6:03 PM] James: Hey

[03/07 6:03 PM] James: What’s up

[03/07 7:25 PM] Ken: U V been on my mind all day😜

[03/07 7:31 PM] Ken: Howdy

[03/07 7:51 PM] James: Awww

[03/07 7:51 PM] James: I’m well

[03/07 7:51 PM] James: U

[03/07 8:28 PM] Ken: Am good

[03/07 8:28 PM] Ken: Really miss u and ur ‘skill’

[03/07 8:29 PM] Ken: Not that I Wana do it again but I misssss u

[03/07 8:32 PM] James: Pele

[03/07 9:09 PM] Ken: Lol

[03/07 9:09 PM] Ken: Naughty boy

The confusion is strong with this one. I mean, what dafuq. You can’t even be true to yourself and admit you want my tongue up your arse again. After he left, I felt my room needed to be cleansed of whatever spirit of confusion he brought about. He said he wants to see me again under the guise of collecting music. I’ll just ignore him now.

*

I’m an avid nail biter. I go at my nails with gusto when I’m bored or nervous or notice they are quite chewy at the moment. It’s a habit that most people classify as bad and it sure has health implications, especially in my line of study. So I’ve been putting a lot of effort into stopping. I have tried many ways, including putting my hand in Aloe Vera, ground pepper, making myself mentally not bite my nail, putting my hand in my mouth but not chewing on the nail, etc, all to no avail. *stares at ugly nails*

To be honest, I really couldn’t care less that some people think it’s ugly or disgusting or whatever. I’m just worried about my health.

So I went online, not to search for ways to stop biting my nails, but to understand why I (and others) bite their nails. Maybe that would help me understand why I was that way and learn ways to stop.

Some of what I read was the same old things I’d been hearing, like how it is a habit picked up from elder ones, or boredom, etc.

Then I read a very interesting article where nail biting was likened to OCD, but it’s not quite OCD because OCD people do not want to be OCD. They hate it. It affects their lives very much. Imagine not being able to sleep unless you check that the back door is locked, and even after you’ve checked, you still go back to check over and over because you just can’t help it. Yea, that’s OCD. There are mild forms especially with neat freaks and all, but I don’t think I’ve got any form of OCD in my life (thank goodness).

Oh yea, back to the bail biting ish… So apparently the major reason nail biters constantly bite their nails is because it feels very good to do so, and speaking from experience, that is no lie. There’s just something about getting that nail and feeling it come away with your teeth. It’s hard to imagine if you don’t bite. It is also likened to animals that excessively groom.

The author of the article, a nail biter, said she felt compelled to stop when she noticed her daughter started biting her nails (this is where a case of nature vs. nurture was brought up, i.e. is there a gene that predisposes people to nail biting), and the way she accomplished this was to fix nails.

I toyed with the idea in my head and decided to go ahead with it. I’d fix those transparent nail thingies and hopefully it would teach me to stop biting. My friend fixed the nails for me, but I took it off after I tried to play the guitar and it was interfering; besides, the whole thing felt uncomfortable. The only accessories so far I can manage are hand and neck chains. I’m always too aware of other things, like the tightness of a cap around my forehead or glasses perched on the bridge of my nose. I guess I’m used to clothes; that’s why I don’t feel too uncomfortable in them.

So yeah, I’m still trying to fix the issues with my nails. A friend of mine suggested stopping one finger at a time. I’ll try that.

What was the point of the above epistle about nail biting? Absolutely Nothing! But it’s my journal and I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts! There they all are, standing in a row. Big one, small one, one the size of your head! *maniacal laughter as I ride away on my pink bedazzled Nimbus 3000 to Harry Potter’s house to try and seduce his cute bum*

*

Okay y’all, something fucking weird just happened.

I’ve always been hoping to control my dreams so I could do whatever I wanted with the dream world. You know, like fly or talk to dolphins and other weird shit. It’s called lucid dreaming. I tried to practice doing that but didn’t bother after some time because reality constantly needed my attention.

Buy today, a Saturday, after I finished reading and taking some nutrimilk and cheap wafer sticks, I fell asleep.

And I woke up. No, I didn’t dream that I woke up. I sort of just woke up. But I was not in my room. I was in some weird place that was like flat lands. Nothing much in sight. There was a road and there were some other things to see, but I didn’t focus on them. The place had a strange hue too. It was sort of bluish, soft blue. But sometimes, I remember it as silver.

Then something caught my attention. It was like a wisp of smoke, all curly, like the wisps I tend to draw, and it had more substance than smoke, like a ray of moonlight that coiled and twisted like an octopus.

I’m not sure why, but I started to chase after the wisp of moonlight octopus smoke. And as I ran, I felt/heard the wind rushing past my ears. This felt like I was the wind. I was running, but suddenly I felt like I was riding a bicycle instead. I’m not sure if I was. It just felt like it. Sometimes the wisp would pass through things. I remember it passed through a broken carriage (don’t ask me what a carriage was doing in the middle of nowhere) and it fixed it.

I saw two people in this place, walking slowly like ghosts. And I saw a lion made of what looked like moonlight too.

I think it was at this point that I realised I was no longer chasing the wisp but was with the wisp. And that was when I looked to the sky and it was beautiful. There was a backdrop of stars that looked like dazzling silver confetti and a big ass moon. And I wanted to go up to the moon.

The next thing I knew, I no longer felt like I was riding a bike, but like I was swimming through air. I gathered speed swimming through the air, and then I shot upward so magnificently. And then, the scene changed and I was back in my neighbourhood and walking to my room. And I saw someone at my door trying to get in. I sort of shouted at the person.

And then I woke up for real.

At first, I thought I’d had a dream in a dream, but I went online and did some research, and I do believe I did astral projection unconsciously. And the person/entity trying to get into my room was an astral denizen trying to get in to steal my life force.

I sound crazy, right? But I swear to you, I believe that was what happened.

I really want to try it again, but as I often do before I try out new experiences, I’ll need to go online and read as much as I can about it.

I’m a weirdo, I know.

Now, there was something about seducing Harry Potter.

Written by James

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