Why Women Talk To Cats

I have always wondered why women talk to cats? Ever since I was a child I have took note of this strange phenomena. My grandmother would sing in Yiddish to every cat she passed by and often formed relationships with certain ones that she would invite over to her house on Sundays. Both my mother and my sister always talked to cats and I remember growing up with the both of them more preoccupied with talking to our two cats then they were with talking to me. I became annoyed with my sister and mother at a young age because whenever they would begin a conversation with cats it would be in a whiny childish high pitched tone that even as a young man I found concerning. But as I grew into the man I know seem to be today, I noticed more and more women who talked to cats.

Maybe there is a closer connection between the feline constitution and the feminine constitution? Maybe women are more tapped into the sensitive and delicate world of the cat? I have always thought of cats as very emotional creatures, and if it is true that the female is the most emotional species on the earth than this would provide an interesting connection between cats and women. I often wonder why it is that women have always talked more to my cats then they have to me, and I am just starting to learn that the answer to this may be less mystical than I have always imagined.

I have had girlfriends, wives and mistresses all of whom talk in strange childish tones to cats. They stop everything that they are doing and talk delicately with the cat as if it is their baby. They ask the cat the same questions that they would ask a human being. “How are you doing today Lilly?” or “Do you like the way the tree smells?” my wife always asks our cats. I think to myself, “does she expect that the cat is going to say I am fine thank you, and yourself?” or could this be a sign that my wife may be loosing touch with reality (since Alzheimer’s does run in her family). However, I try not to judge and I just presume that she feels good communicating with cats, just like all the women I have ever known.

Today I was walking home from the bookstore when I happened upon a rather attractive women dressed in a tight black skirt who was talking to a cat. The cat rubbed its feline fur all over her ankles as I heard the lady saying, “why are you such a nice cat…why are you such a nice cat? How come you are so beautiful and smart?” I waited for a moment to see if I could not hear some kind of response from the cat, but I heard nothing. My curiosity got the best of me and as I passed her I stopped and said “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a question?” “No not at all,” she kindly replied. “Why are you talking to a cat?” I said. She seemed surprised for a moment and then provided me with a vague answer, “because I love cats.” I thanked her for her vague response and continued on. As I got a few feet away from her she added, “don’t you know that cats are a woman’s best friend?” And then everything made sense to me.

If dogs are a man’s best friend than why not assume that women should also have a four legged creature to call their own? Cats are not only independent and patient but they also embody some of the finest qualities of the female species. They are not only graceful in their movements but cats carry themselves with a kind of confidence that seems to be a familiar trademark of most if not all women. Cats are proud and seem to embody a certain warmth that I have only found before in the womb and women. If cats share certain qualities in common with women that define their relationship than what may this say about man and his best friend- the four legged beast?

So women talk to cats because they have something in common. They share a spiritual alliance with the feline species that no scientist could ever understand. Both cats and women get something from one another that no other source can provide. What this is I am uncertain, but I am willing to admit that it may have something to do with love and respect. When I returned home from my walk to the bookstore I found myself greeted by my two cats, Lilly and Monk. Before I realized what was going on I found myself asking them both how they were doing and what they were up to. Suddenly I realized that I too was talking to cats!! For a moment I contemplated what this realization could mean- but I sat down with both cats upon my lap and they both began to tell me about how men and women have more in common then I might think.

The Man Who Pissed A Miracle.

    Three weeks ago I peed upon a large plot of dirt that was located behind my parents home. I was locked out and had to go. The large plot of dirt was the only piece of land on my parents property that was not touched by landscaping. My father had wanted to build a Japanese tea garden on the dirt plot but because of the recent economic recession he had decided to wait it out. I was in my parents neighborhood that day (I went to a job interview) and I decided to stop in. Not only was I hoping to borrow some money but I desperately needed to use the toilet. When I found no one at home- I had no choice but to pee on their small piece of land.

When nature calls it is difficult for man or woman to ignore the call. The twentieth century was filled with magnificent inventions that attempted to bypass natures call. Somehow humans thought that if they could be ingenious enough to trick nature then maybe they could be in control. I however have difficulty ignoring the call of the wild. I prefer to listen and respond when necessary. Possibly a great deal of my anxiety stems from the fact that I am too tuned into nature but this seems to be a disposition that I was born with. That day under the sun and in the quietude of my parents back yard, I peed without any thought about the personal violation I may have been committing. When I was finished watering the dirt I zipped up my pants and drove back to my home.

Today I returned to my parents home and was stunned by what I saw. In the very plot of dirt where I peed three weeks before grew a gorgeous lemon tree. My father and I stood in silence under the spring time sun staring at this lemon tree that had grown over four feet tall- in no time. Full grown lemons sat perched upon the end of its branches and a yellow hue highlighted the trees fluorescent leaves. For a few minutes all thoughts about my peeing in this spot three weeks before escaped me. I asked my father if he was sure that the gardeners did not plant this tree. He told me that he was cutting expenses for the time being and one of those expenses was the gardener. No one had worked on this land for months. My mother came out with a cup of iced tea in her hand and said “isn’t it amazing!!” I looked at my mom and said, “how could this be?” My father picked a lemon from the tree and handed it to me. It was the most beautiful lemon I had ever seen. I could smell it before it was in the palm of my hand. “Amazing,” was all I could say.

And then I remembered that three weeks before I had taken a piss in the same place where the lemon tree now stood. I questioned myself for a few minutes trying to convince myself that the tree must of been here before I peed. It was not. There was no way to explain what was before my eyes other than that my urine had given birth to this lemon tree. How this could be escapes my rational mind but I remember when I gave a urine sample to my doctor a few months ago he told me it was the most nutrient dense urine he had ever seen. “It almost reminds me of lemon juice,” he said. I thought nothing of this remark until today. As I stood besides the lemon tree with my mother and father I was shocked by the possible power of my pee. I wanted to tell them that I may know the reason why the tree is there. They may be upset that I peed upon their valuable land but when they found out what their son’s urine could achieve- all hurt feelings would possibly turn into an emotion of awe towards the holly man who was their son. Finally they would think that after 37 years of failure on earth- I had made something out of myself. As my mother stood there repeating, “incredible” over and over- I remained silent afraid that if I took the risk and told the truth as I saw it I would never be allowed to come home again. My father went inside and got his camera and for the rest of the day I pretended to be as surprised as they were about this strange lemon tree that grew from my pee.

I Swallowed My Wedding Ring.

This evening while I was sitting on the couch reading a novel, I accidentally swallowed my wedding ring. You may be wondering why, or how? Well, I believe that I suffer from certain oral fixations or obsessive compulsive disorder. When I am writing or reading I seem to need to have something in my mouth- constantly. Tonight I pulled the ring off my finger with my lips and sucked on it in my mouth as if it was a candy. I stuck my tongue through its hole and ran it around along my teeth. I was not terribly aware of what I was doing since I was so engrossed in the book I was reading.

My wedding ring is made out of one ounce of white gold. It is a thick ring that rests on my finger like a small weight (reminding me of my eternal commitment). How I managed to have it in my mouth without noticing boggles my mind. I first became aware of what was taking place when I felt the metallic sensation of the ring passing down my throat. I choked for a moment and then started to cough when I realized what I had just done. Panic came over me and I ran into the bathroom and tried to make myself vomit. I thought that I could die as a result of swallowing my wedding ring. I thought about my obituary- man dies by swallowing his wedding ring, as my whole body began to shake. When minutes passed and I was still alive but unable to regurgitate my wedding ring, I called my wife into the room and told her what happened.

As she stood in front (I was on my knees in front of the toilet bowl) of me aghast at what I had done, I felt the a cold metallic sensation skipping around in my intestines. I was not sick but terribly uncomfortable. “You are so absent minded! You forget to turn off the heat, to feed the cat and now you swallow your wedding ring!! When are you going to get it together- you need to wake up!!!” I knew she was letting off steam so I allowed her to freely vent. She had spent her last two thousand dollars to buy me this ring and now I had just swallowed it. As far as she was concerned the ring was gone, buried in the penetralia of my intestinal regions. “Baby don’t worry, I’ll either shit it out or have it surgically removed,” I said to her as she dropped to her knees. “When are you going to wake up!!” she kept repeating as I sat on the floor with my hands on my stomach and a feeling of anxiety in my chest.

My grandmother always told me that if I was going to be a reader of fiction, that I should prepare myself for not being in the world. What she meant was that a symptom of reading fiction is being absent minded in day to day life. My grandmother felt that fiction readers (and poetry readers) lived in a world of thought and fantasy rather than reality. I disagreed with her until I was in my ninth year of reading fiction every day. I started doing stupid, absent minded things like rear ending cars and forgetting to pull up my zipper because I was thinking about the plot of a book. But now I have swallowed my wedding ring. This act of mine makes me feel like my grandmothers words were a prophetic warning.

My wife was able to get control over herself and called a poison control center. They told her that if I do not poop out the ring by tomorrow morning that I should go to the emergency room. They recommended that I eat prunes and lots of fiber to move my bowls. My wife slowly came to a state where she could take pity upon my state and began to treat me like a man who needed help. She made me prune tea and put a blanket over me while I lied flat out on the couch. She has been rubbing my head and cynically uttering comical comments like “you are so silly.” I am yet to poop out the ring but it is my hope that after a few more cups of prune tea and a good nights rest that I will be wearing my wedding ring by lunch time tomorrow.

The Sex Life Of A Man Without One #19

I never imagined that a naked woman behind glass could be so gratifying and theraputic! How had I gone so long without considering this form of sexual interaction? Not only is it considerably cheaper to talk and mutually masturbate with a woman behind glass (than say go to a strip club or massage pallor), but it is a wonderfully safe form of sex. It is amazing that no one had told me about this. Like most interesting things that I have learned about in my life…I had to stumble upon this one on my own.

It was around 9 p.m when I finished writing my previous blog entry (Shakespeare and I). It was one of the better entries that I have written in some time and I felt the need to reward myself for my efforts. My home was lonely and cold, the wife was at work (she picked up a second job waiting tables at a very hip and formal restaurant in Downtown Oakland) and I was in need of entertainment. I took a quick shower and dressed in a black suit with white converse all star tennis shoes and decided to take a drive into San Fransisco- the city of the night. After a quick drive across the Bay Bridge I entered the womb of the city like a man with a great deal of anticipation in his heart. I parked my mumbling car on a small street where many lives were squished together in nineteenth century apartment buildings. I lit another cigarette and decided to walk, to see where my feet may take me.

I spent an hour or so shopping around in my favorite bookstore, City Lights Books. I read the first pages of dozens of novels by African, European and Latin American Authors. Nothing captured my attention. I decided to buy a book of poems by Jack Kerouac and then to go across the street and drink a beer in an Irish pub. The pub was once home to many Bohemians whose pictures still decorate the walls. I sat at the bar where I had once had a drink with Allen Ginsberg and order and stout. It was close to midnight as I drank black beer and waited for the poetry to fill my mind with a reverent awe.

I left the bar and walked down Broadway. I was a man alone with himself and happy to be filled with the sights and sounds of a city at night. I wondered into an establishment with a blinking neon sign that said Naked Girls Behind Glass– Come On In! Inside a few punk rockers greeted me from behind a counter. I wondered around dark hallways filled by glass windows covered by curtains. All kinds of men wondered the hallways searching for an open window. On the doors besides the windows were pictures of the women who sat on the other side of the curtain. I walked around in anticipation waiting to find an open window. I peed in a bathroom that smelled like urine and I watched a fifty cent porno film in a booth that was sticky with semen.

She knocked hard upon the glass and I could make out her lips saying “hey you, come here!” She seemed to be pointing at me so I followed her index finger and entered the closed door which she sat behind. Inside the cubicle was a black telephone. The room was dark and I could hear a voice shouting “pick up the phone.” I did so and was told to place a five dollar bill into the money slot. When I did this a curtain was pulled back and the room was illuminated with a red neon light. A young women dressed in revealing black and pink lingerie was spread out on a mattress that was covered in red silk sheets and surrounded by mirrors. She held the black phone in her hand and said “my name is Silver, what is yours?'” With the black phone up to my ear I scrambled to make up a name “Zoey,” I said. “Hi Zoey, Welcome to Silver’s Temple. Why don’t you whip out your cock and stick twenty dollars into the slot.”

I was slightly nervous. My conscience was playing in the back of my mind. “You degenerate sleaze ball,” it kept saying over and over. “You can’t take out your penis in a room that smells like cum and is filled with various forms of disease,” my conscience told me over and over, but there was a problem- Silver was hot. Her breasts and stomach were filled with a youthfulness that was yet to see the decline of the flesh. Her face looked like an image that could have created been created by Leonardo da Vinci. She had straight long hair and long silken legs with smooth manicured feet which pressed upon the glass window. When she turned over and showed me her sculpted behind with a small tattoo of a butterfly I immediately began to pull money from my wallet. “What would your wife think of you now,” a voice said into my left ear but I told it to be quiet and leave me be, as I stuck a twenty dollar bill into the money slot.

Music began to play and Silver opened up her long legs revealing a treasure chest between. I stared without concern for the look on my face. “You look like you have never seen a pussy before,” she said. “It has been some time since I have seen one like yours,” I replied with a hint of anxiety in my voice. “Well then Zoey, come closer so you can see.” She took out what looked like a long plastic turkey baster, but was a dildo made out of rubber. She stuck it into that sacred spot that was making my heart rapidly beat. I felt the immediate power of the hole that brings forth life, with a reverence that made me want to fall to my knees. My nose pressed against the glass. I was staring directly into her majestic hole which she played with like a child. She made various sexual sounds and continued to ask me to take out my cock and cum with her. But I could not move. With my nose pressed against the glass all I wanted to do was climb into her vagina and return to the womb which I so fondly remember.

I had to hold back my tears. I understood now the reverence that a religious disciple feels for a sacred object. As Silver played with her dildo I slowly unzipped my zipper and let my pulsating penis leap out into the dank air. “Yes, please play with it for me,” Silver said as she watched me watching her. “Stroke it, stroke it,” she demanded. I felt a little uncomfortable about masturbating in front of the sacred object but the more she demanded that I cum the more I became intoxicated by her sirens call. Silver than sat up and brought her perfectly painted face up to the glass so that she could look directly at my cock. With the black phone in her hand she kept repeating “cum on my face…cum on my face dady,” and like all good disciples I eventually did what the idol demanded. I released my sperm onto a glass window.

“Wow!!” Silver said. “Seems like you have not had sex in a long time,” she commented in response to the large amount of semen that came forth from my penis. “It has been some time, yes,” I said recalling that it has been over a year since I had had sex with my wife, or any women for that matter. “Must be difficult being a married man without a sex life,” Silver said to me as she looked at the wedding ring upon my hand. “It is not so bad, I just can’t seem to figure out how to be intimate with a woman that I love,” I said as I pulled my limp penis back into my pants and zipped up my fly. “Yeah, that’s difficult for a lot of men. They seem to be only able to have good sex with women whom they hate,” Silver said as she turned back around onto her back. I was surprised by her statement but I understood what she may have meant. “Once a man loves a woman they get her confused with their mother and then sex goes out the window. It is all because men are afraid to love,” Silver said. “Maybe so,” I replied not really feeling honorable enough to voice a response. Here I was, with my cum splattered all over a glass window which separated me from the object of my desire. Maybe Silver was right, maybe I was afraid of love.

“Have a nice evening and make sure you come back and see me soon,” Silver said as she shut the drape and turned off the light. I walked out of the establishment with my head down and a feeling like I had just done something that I was not allowed. Outside on the cold and quiet midnight streets I lit a cigarette and began to walk back to my car. Garbage men collected trash on both sides of the street and stray dogs wandered into dark corners searching for food. I looked up at the black sky and observed the sky scrappers which surrounded me on all sides. I am a man in love with the city at midnight. I was twenty five dollars poorer now, but for that price not only did I get to have a pleasant orgasm and watch a beautiful woman play with herself- but I also was able to learn a little something about myself.

Eletromagnetic Freak, Part 2.

     My mind is always creating assumptions, but are they true? I am perpetually surrounded and perturbed by a sea of electromagnetic radiation and I feel the effects of it upon my body, mind and spirit. These micro-waves are difficult to avoid when  one is surrounded by creations and emanations of a modern technological society. I do what I can to reduce the exposure to radiation, but my attempts are mostly futile. Day by day the physical symptoms that I experience mutate into a more advanced form and the more I talk about my physical symptoms being the result of  electromagnetic radiation, the more I wonder- is this assumption true?

If I discuss this subject with ordinary people they have a tendency to think I am either loosing my mind or suffering from a form of hypochondria. These judgments and accusations have caused me to questions my own inner truth. Often times I am told to “sit with my discomfort and be willing to be uncomfortable.” “All my life I have tried to avoid discomfort,” my mother said when I complained to her about my illness, “now you have an opportunity to be fully present and comfortable with your discomfort.” It is hard for me to understand how I can be present and comfortable with the zapping sensations that cause me palpitations, tremors, dizziness and nausea. When I am infected by these sensations I become fearful and worried. “Now you can learn to work with your fear,” my mother always responds. She has been taking a mindfulness meditation course once a week and I fear that her spiritual concepts and Buddhist rhetoric may be removing her from the reality in which I am stuck. I have decided to stop consulting with my mother for the time being.

I have also decided that I am suffering from a modern day ailment called EMRSD (Electromagnetic Radiation Sensitivity Disorder). This diagnoses is yet to exist in any medical reference books but I guarantee you that it will some day soon. People like myself are Pioneers, we are on the cutting edge of a whole new era in disease and syndromes. Symptoms and various forms of discomfort and disease that are a result of the growing use of wireless technology- are in the not to distant future going to be one of the main causes for seeking medical attention. We are currently lab rats, subjects in the laboratory which is our world. Subjects (or victims), like myself (and many others who have contacted me) are some of the first pioneers to experience the disturbing side effect of electromagnetic radiation (side effects include- zapping sensations in the brain, dizziness, nausea, palpitation and tachycardia upon falling asleep which causes one to be shocked awake, difficulty getting to sleep, vivid nightmares, hair loss and prolonged erections in men- just to name a few).

This morning while I was sitting in meditation I experienced the unpleasant zapping sensation and rapid heart beat. I cleared my studio of any devices that may be emitting electromagnetic radiation. I removed my cellular phone, laptop, digital clock, radio and cat. I sat in the lotus position and slowly fell off into a feeling of deep relaxation. Right as I reached a point of calm (a state which Buddhists call Samsara) I was zapped (shocked) back into my body with the feeling of a rapid heartbeat causing my mind to grow anxious. After I calmed myself down I tried again to continue my mediation but was again zapped back into reality. In an impulsive act of frustration I threw my meditation cushion out the window and screamed out “what the hell is going on!!!” This unpleasant zapping sensation while in meditation, has been happening to me through out the week. It is a newer symptom of the illness that I am convinced I am suffering from- EMRSD.

Sleeping with my windows open has brought me some relief at night but last evening the unexpected happened. I was awoken by what sounded like a sniffling beast smelling my feet. I was too afraid to open my eyes and lay there like a corpse trying to figure out what the cold and wet sensation was that repeatedly kept touching my bare feet. I new it was not my cat or wife, both of whom were asleep beside me. When I garnered up enough courage to open my eyes and see what it was, my reaction was a surprise to not only myself. I let out a terrible scream and jumped five feet into the air, causing my cat to fly off the bed in a panic and my wife to sit up screaming, “what!! what is it”. My body went into fight or flight mode and I ran for my life into the bathroom where I locked the door. My wife came running after me in a state of shock and concern pounding on the bathroom door telling me that “it is gone!!! it is gone!!! it ran out the window!!!” A raccoon had come in through the window I had left open and decided to scare the shit out of me, my wife and cat. Electromagnetic Radiation Sensitivity Disorder is making me feel “edgy” in more ways than one.

This incident does not diminish the fact that there has been some improvement in my condition. Sleeping with an open window has been helpful. My perpetual erection has gone down and I am currently not suffering from vivid dreams or rapid heartbeats before drifting off to sleep (knock on wood). Electromagnetic Radiation Sensitivity Disorder is a real ailment- one that I am sure thousands of people suffer from. I want to believe that my assumptions about my symptoms and their cause are true, but currently I am living in a world where profit and technological advancement seem to be more important than the health and well being of individuals. If we (consumers) found out that the technology we are dependent upon is slowly killing us or causing us various forms of dis-ease, then these large corporations would go broke or have to find healthier ways of creating products. Unfortunately, it will take decades before this is the case. By then it may be to late for many who suffer from EMRSD and diseases caused by the technology we all use. So it makes sense that information is being pushed under the carpet, supressed and then manipulated so that people such as myself who experience the negative effects of modern technology are caused to question their own assumptions and feel like sickly freaks. It is the nature of the business, a sign of the times.

Sex Life Of A Man Without One #18

She called herself the “Divine Back Scratcher.” A whore with this kind of vernacular struck an immediate interest in me. Despite the fact that I had pledged to stay away from prostitutes for a time, the itch was returning. For a man this itch is the equivalent to a nuisance which never seems to go away. For a time there will be some quiet, a respite but like all biological imperatives- it returns with a vengeance. I have learned to accept this eternal return, with the calm acceptance of the Buddhist I feel I may be becoming. I realize that everything is as it should be in life. I try not to get in the way.

Once again I began my day by doing a little meditation and then immediately going on the internet to see who was on the Craig’s List Erotic Adds page. I searched trough numerous pictures with an erection that felt like kundalini rising in my lower spine. I was delighted by various adds that mentioned daily head specials or lunch time hand specials. The photographs were mostly unappealing but the few that struck some interest in my eyes were like shots of ecstasy to my brain. I had been too long without my girls.

I have been meaning to talk to my wife about my sexual expeditions and obsessions. My therapist decided that if I had not done it within the month that she was going to call my wife and tell her. I knew my therapist was only innocently threatening me with her pledge (since it violates patient privacy rights)- but now I fear that she may do it. So I have an allotted time left to indulge my fantasies before I have to face the music (which may turn out to be a rehabilitation center for sex addicts). This morning the sun was out, I had money in my bank account and could foresee no reason why (other than guilt and shame) I should not investigate my curiosity with regards to the Back Scratcher. Cumm Let me Scratch your back and make you purr, the add said and the photograph I could hardly resist.

She was only seeing clients at a hot tub establishment that was not far from my abode. I quickly dressed and decided not to put on underwear since I assumed I would be going into the tub nude. Over the phone she sounded rather unfriendly and belabored. I tried not to take this personally by telling myself that I was not trying to make friends. I just wanted an erotic hand job in a hot tub. My appointment was for 1:15 p.m and when I arrived at the establishment it seemed as if it could be closed. A homeless man stood outside and there were no cars upon the vacated industrial street. Other than a few famished alley cats and a sign that said Health Spa I seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

I rang the buzzer and was greeted by an older Asian man who had a cigar in his mouth. “You here for girl, yes?” I did not know how to answer. What if this was a sting, a trap to catch perverts like myself? This has been going on a lot lately. “You here for girl?” he said again with a frenetic energy that made me feel pressured. I threw caution to the wind and nodded yes. “You sit, she almost through with nother client.” I sat in a yellow chair that smelled like a thrift shop. I looked at desperate fish floating around in a neglected fish tank. One orange fish watched me watch it. I wondered if he understood. There was a picture of the Buddha on the wall and a few oranges and a banana were placed in front of the picture. Food for the Gods.

A very fat man walked down the hallway. His step was heavy enough to rattle the chair in which I sat. He was breathing hard and seemed to be perspiring a great deal. His face was beet red and when he said good bye to the Asain man, I thought I heard him say “what a back scratch!” I was nervous and hesitant when the Asain man said to me, “Okay you go,” and directed me to walk on down the hall to the open door with white light shining out of it. The hallway was dark and lined with straw mats that made me feel like I was visiting a whore house in a third world. If it was not for the smell of chlorine and tobacco, I would of thought I was walking away from the living and towards the light.

The room was dark, and I was greeted by a long legged women dressed in a black corsage. Her hair was long and ruffled and she seemed to be developing dark bags under her eyes. None the less I found her very attractive. She reminded me of a fallen angel. “Welcome,” she told me after she mentioned that I should get undressed and lie on my stomach on the mattress upon the floor. I noticed that in the room there was no hot tub. “Have you had your back scratched lately?” she asked me. “I have not,” I said like a shy school boy. “Well this one you will enjoy,” she said as she ran her long pink nails down the front of my bare chest while making a sexy sound. “Oh look,” she said surprised as I stood naked in front of her, “your cock is ready to go!” I looked down and noticed a pulsating erection hanging off my shaking groin. “This is what happens when I’m nervous,” I said.

I gave her the agreed upon sixty dollars and lied down on my stomach. The mattress smelled like a mixture of semen and perfume. I buried my face deep into the pillow and tried with all my might not to think about how I would tell my wife about this. She would never believe these degenerate journey’s I go out on. Her life is clean, composed, starched and blessed. This kind of experience is not upon her radar screen nor does she think it’s upon mine. While she is hard at work I am at home looking for work, is what she thinks. As I was thinking about what not to think about I felt the Back Scratcher sit upon my bare butt like she was straddling a horse. I took a deep breath as she gently began to run her nails down my spine. She made strange chanting sounds which had the effect of really turning me on. She then ran her nails over my head and into my ears. My anxiety fell away and turned into a relaxation I had never felt before. Even though I wanted to see her naked (and was willing to pay more) I was completely resigned to the moment. I surrendered and turned into a floating cloud. Her fingers ran up and down my spine and shoulders with a motion that felt like the wind. I was hypnotized by her scratches until she placed one of her hands upon my testicles.

I am easily surprised. I live my life trying to avoid surprises because it makes me feel like I have little control in my life ( I am having difficulty accepting the laws of chaos). When she placed her warm and tingling hand upon my testicles, I made what sounded like a pre-pubescent chirp. My body vibrated and she asked me if I was okay. I was more than fine I told her, “I had just had an orgasm.” She laughed and said, “you came already, I did not even do anything!!” “It takes so little,” I said. All she could do was laugh and ask me if I wanted a cookie.

Ever since I was a young man I have suffered from premature ejaculation. Many a women have left me because of it. I have done what I can to develop my locking abilities but the older I get the more I have just learned to live with my disability. I have read books, taken a seminar (“The Multi-Orgasmic Male”) and even saw a counselor for this ailment. To no avail. I have been told that the problem is the result of years spent frequently masturbating, neurological and genetic. I just think I am a very horny man who can not hold back all the intense pressure I keep blocked up during the course of a typical day. When I explained this to the Back Scratcher she told me she understood. “My last boyfriend was like this so I can relate,” she said. “He usually came before he even stuck it in.” This made me feel better, understood. Once I was fully dressed I told her that during the back scratch I had reached a state of relaxation I had never achieved before. “See….. whores are good for some things,” she said as she counted her money and then looked at the clock. I could not have agreed more.

Electromagnetic Freek (EMF).

I love my laptop but it is making me sick! It has turned into a constant struggle. Let me explain before you jump to judgment: I am immensely sensitive to EMF radiation from cell phones, laptops- all wireless technology. I have learned about this new advent in my life lately. Upon moving into the new home in which I live- I developed all kinds of physical symptoms. Besides the regular palpitations, and constant worry, I have developed what feels like a perpetual tingling erection, brain surges and vivid dreams which shock me awake with a racing heartbeat. I have also begun to slur my words on certain heavy electromagnetic days and feel pins and needles tap dancing around in my microwaved brain. The house in which I currently reside is surrounded by a plethora of electromagnetic activity (city buildings, citizens talking on cell phones and endless wireless waves). The women who lives upstairs has several television monitors, which are on all day- along with her very strong wireless internet connection. Some times as I am falling off to sleep I am zapped awake by what feels like an electrical discharge from my brain to the rest of my body. I am not sure if this is the result of electromagnetic radiation or the disturbing sounds of my neighbor doing Yoga for hours past midnight. It is one of the most unpleasant experiences I have felt.

I have seen several Doctors all of whom have not a clue what is going on. Certain holistic practitioners have told me that I may be suffering from Multiple Sensitivity Syndrome or some kind of toxic poisoning. A healer whom I visited the other day convinced me to believe that what I am suffering from is EMF poisoning. “This is a modern syndrome,” he said- “we are all canaries in the coal mine, lab rats being used to test the short term and long term affects of all this new wireless technology.” I must stay away from wireless technology as much as possible, he told me. Each night before bed I am to wrap tin foil around my head and sleep with it on. A modern day wreath of thorns to celebrate my electromagnetic crucifixion.

The perpetual erection which has a nagging tingling component to it has remained unexplained. Neither Doctors nor esoteric healers know what to make of it. Most just see it as a flaw in the machine, but I believe otherwise. It is my belief that the radiation or electric activity is stimulating something in my nervous system which in return is causing the over-stimulation of my penis. It is becoming more than a discomfort in my life- it is now like living with an antenna stuck to my groin. Trying to sleep with a tingling erection verges upon the very difficult. Going through my life with it is a nag. It is affecting my marriage and creating some difficulties for me when I go out on a job search. Masturbation is of no help, nor is over-thinking about my mother in the nude. The only solution that I can come up with is tin foil and to remain as removed from wireless technology as I can, for a time.

The End.

Sex Life Of A Man Without One #14

Even hookers have to work when it’s raining. I have spent the past three days desperately searching for employment. My dedication to the search surprisingly took my mind off things of a sexual nature. My lust went into remission and I experienced a calm that always follows a terrible storm. This morning I awoke to the tapping sounds of a torrential downpour which seemed to also awken my lust. Once my wife left for work, I went to my computer and started reading the sensual and x-rated erotic adds on Craig’s List and by mid afternoon I had and erection which refused to leave me alone. Outside my small window rain was coming down without apology. It was creating a small flood in my mind which made it hard to breathe. My mood was melancholic and I knew of two remedies for this. I could either masturbate or seek out the professional help of a whore. I decided the I would spend the rest of the afternoon looking for a different kind of job.

Despite the fact that the rain was relentless I knew that hookers still had to make money even when it rained. I was privy to certain information that some hookers preferred working in the rain because they were less visible to cops. They could stand in bus stops for long periods of time without being cited for lingering. All they had to say is that they were sheltering themselves from the rain. With this information in mind I dressed without putting on underwear and ventured out into day. Three inches of rain made my car appear to be swimming. The whole street that I lived on was flooded. I would not of been surprised if Noah’s Ark came speeding around the corner. It had been raining for days. For a brief moment I thought that I best not venture out because my tires had no tread and my windshield whippers had long ago ceased to work. I was taking many risks if I drove my car, but as usual my lust spoke louder than my pragmatic mind.

I listened to John Coltrane on the stereo and drove slowly through the puddles and torrential downpour which made the city seem like the sea. As I smoked a cigarette I used a towel as a make shift windshield whipper. Rain blew into my car causing a chill to run through my spine. However, I was determined to find a whore. I drove around the areas of Oakland that hookers were normally stationed. Because Oakland is a city that is going through large amounts of gentrification, the police force has strengthened their commitment to remove prostitutes from the city so that they can make Oakland more respectable to incoming residents. Despite the purging of prostitutes there were still specific locations where they popped up. Whores are like flees- just when you think their gone, they appear some place knew.

I drove around and around the ghetto, with the inharmonious sounds of a saxophone encouraging me to go deeper into my desire. I whipped water and grime from my windshield as I drove around back alley ways and across barren train tracks. Rain covered my windshield quicker than I could wipe it away. And then as I turned a corner with the belief that I had spotted a whore with a black umbrella and tight white skirt, I was disappointed to find that it was only a phone booth. Hours passed and the inside information that I was privy to seemed to be rendering me no results. Gas on my car was going low and in America gas is no cheap commodity. I passed a few crack whores that desperately stuck out their dark tongues at me and screamed “hey baby, save me from the flood!!” but there were no hookers wondering around that looked as if they could step inside my fantasy.

Just as I was about to surrender my search- I noticed a Hispanic looking lady standing on a corner wearing a tragically sexy tight black dress and black boots. Her hair was long and dyed red and her eyes were shaped like sex. She was holding no umbrella and allowed the rain to cover her body without any offense. As I passed her a second time she smiled at me and made a gesture that I pull over. I stopped my car around the corner and with my heart rapidly beating in anticipation I unlocked the passenger side door so sex could come in. She climbed in my car wet with rain- and asked me if I was a cop. When I said no she told me to show her my penis. I was a bit apprehensive but when she insisted on me showing her my penis again, I decided to do so. I did not want to let sex get away. There was something strangely exhilarating about showing my penis to a stranger. “Stroke it twice,” she said. I was stupefied and excited. “What?” I said acting like I was uncertain about her demand but in truth, I wanted her to repeat herself. “Do it, quick,” she said looking out the back window to see if there were any cops. “Do what?” I pretended. “Stroke your cock!” Ah, that was all I needed to hear. I did what she said and immediately got an erection. “You are horny?” she said. I assumed that her question was rhetorical. Why else would I be driving around in circles through a crazy downpour looking for a whore? Yes, I was the horniest married man with no sex life, living!

“My name is Ladina,” she said. I asked if I could see her tits to make sure she was not a cop. “How bout I lick your cock, to show you?” she asked. “No, no I am not interested in that,” I said. “What you interested in then,” she asked as she pulled down her top and showed me perfectly shaped breasts with small areolas and hardened nipples. As I was about to reply “a hand job,” I had to use all of my strength to not have an orgasm while looking at her breasts. I clenched my jaw and squeezed my anus to prevent the squirt but I had not developed the muscle control needed to refrain. As I released sperm into my pants, I cupped her breast in my hands like it was the last thing I would ever touch. I utilized all my reserve to act as normal as possible so as not to reveal the biological process that was taking place in my pants.

It is amazing to me how quickly lust vanishes after an orgasm. Like rain after a storm. What was once so desirable and rapturous becomes flat and an annoyance. It is as if with the release of sperm- desire, lust and awe are also released. What is left is a space for guilt and shame to sneak in and fill the heart. I told Ladina that I was feeling a bit nervous and needed more time to think. “Ah, come on man lets have some fun,” she replied, inept to the fact that I had already had my fun. When I told her I needed more time to think, she gave me a strange look and then dismissed me with the slam of my car door. Relieved that she was gone from my life, but feeling the guilt of just having left a fellow human being stranded in the rain- I drove my ark back to the confines of my home where I would spend the rest of the evening looking for a reputable job.

The End Of Absurdistry

I just wanted to let my readers know that this site will be taken off the air in a day or so. Thank you for all of you comments and support. The good times were memorable. I hope I unhinged a few inhibitions, or what Therapists call “repressions.” If by chance you think it is or is not a good idea to take Absurdsitry off air, please feel free to leave a comment.

The End.

P.s…..

I tend to suffer from confusion which causes my mind to sway back and forth like a pendulum that is out of balance. So, today I have decided against the end of Absurdistry….and will carry on.

Sex Life Of A Man Without One #11.

“MIND-Bl(o)wing}*playmate SuPper Cute,” sent me an instant message this morning. I had no idea how this could of ended up in my private space. I have always been careful not to leave a trace in my tireless acts of exploitation. What carelessness, on my part had caused this to happen? My wife had just left for work and I could not help but yell out what is this!! as I read the message.

“Hooker in a tree says your really nice man who may be into super kinky time without the sex. I know your married, but we can work around it. Instant message me back and we can meet today. I am currently doing in-calls in my car.” Beneath her message was a picture of a naked brunette beauty sitting on top of a lump of hay. Her breasts and thigh all gave me an erection- the degree to which made me consider masturbation. But this would be pathetic- it is not even noon yet and I am already consumed with lustful thoughts.

A persons sexual appetite grows the more attention they pay to it. This is the hook at the end of the string. We believe that we will just indulge our erotic fantasies one last time and then we shall abstain for an eternity. This is how it all began a few months back for me. I would just peruse the Craig’s List Erotic adds for an hour each day and think that it would satisfy my sexual need for a transgressive sexual experience. I presumed that I was under control and that the one harmless pleasure that brought me satisfaction could never dominate my life. But soon the hour turned into two hours and the fidelity that I had sworn to my wife had turned into weekly hand jobs by strange prostitutes dressed in nothing but their bare skin. Now I can not stop. Each experience I want to replicate itself over and over- and after yesterdays experience with the teasing hooker who would not take off her pantyhose, I am ready for an erotic release. Only the further into this polluted pond I dive, I know the closer I am to having to reveal my obsession to my wife. It is the only way a married man can live- with hopes of morality and purity at some point in the future, just not now.

I instantly emailed the naked brunette sitting on a lump of hay back. “Would you be interested in seeing me at noon for a hand job while you are in the nude? Oh, would you mind If I cumm upon your stomach?” I wrote without any moral conscience. I received a reply that said, “you can cumm where ever you like as long as it is not in my ass or mouth. I would be happy to jack you off in the privacy of my car so meet me at….,” and she left me the directions to her car and a good time to meet with her. I took a warm shower and thought over my impending experience with yet another whore, while the warm water melted the guilt away from my dirty hair. What is a man to do when his sexual fantasies rule the day? Maybe soon I will journey to Tibet but in that moment the only journey that I wanted to undertake was towards her car.

I had a Therapy appointment which I decided to miss. I am more concerned about my sexual health than I am about my mental health (as you dear reader can probably tell). I called the Therapist and left a message saying that I was sorry but had a sudden foot ache flare up which I needed to seek out a Podiatrist to help me with. I wanted to tell her that I was being controlled and dominated by my lustful fantasies and was unable to control myself. I wanted to shout out for help and beg her to come over and stop me from doing what I was about to do, but I did not. I allowed my lust to direct the actions of my mind.

I drove to Washington Mutual in which I have a Checking Account. I went up to the ATM to take out cash but was shocked to find out that I had no more money. I was overdrawn and without a way to fill my account up. I stood there in the light of late morning in a kind of stupefaction that happens to one when they are 36, without a job and find out that they are broke. I had twenty minutes until I was to meet the prostitute at her car and no money to pay her for services rendered. I was stuck in a quagmire.

Desperate situations create desperate actions. I decided to go to her car anyhow. I would see if I could not somehow pay her back another time. I would use my skills to bargain with her. I figured that I was a good enough looking man to possibly make her want to forgo her fee. How could she refuse me? She did refuse. She swore at me for having the nerve to think that she would render her sexual services for an IOU. She asked me to step away from her old Cadillac as she climbed out of her car in a skirt that was so tight I could see the contours of her cunt. “If my friend had not highly recommended you to me I would currently be shouting at you so loud that your eardrums would pop,” she said. I tried to rationalize with her and tell her that I was coming into a good lump sum of money within the week. “I do not believe you she said. I stood there by the side of the road which was vacant and lined with used condoms and liquor bottles. “You need to go, before I spray your pretty face with mace,” she said.

Again, my efforts to find sexual release were futile. I left the prostitute before she turned violent. She had been looking forward to our arrangement and was seriously disappointed that I was without cash. I returned to my cold home with a lingering smell of her on my jacket. She was beautiful, a little worn down by the lifestyle, but she would have been a dream to respectfully cumm upon. I sat in a chair in my back yard and thought about all the different ways that I could acquire cash so that I could get enough money together to continue my immorality play on the following day.

Sex Life Of A Man Without One #9

A naked prostitute in a tree!! This was too much. Yesterday I had seen a ghost for the first time in my life and now this! The days are just getting more interesting as I go on. What will tomorrow bring? For today was one of the stranger days in my life.

My wife and I have been fighting a lot lately. It is not a malicious fighting with raised voices, but rather a silent frustration which is expressed through various passive aggressive maneuvers. When we fight I do things like ignore her, sleep on the couch and seek out sexual deviations. This morning as soon as my wife left for work I decided to seek retribution for all the stress our clashes have cost me. I went straight to the Craig’s List Erotic adds and almost immediately happened upon an add that said “In calls In A Tree.” I was curious so I pushed on the link and saw a spicy picture of a beautiful blonde swinging from a tree branch in the nude. Her breasts were small and shapely and she had shaved off all her pubic hair. Below the picture was a caption the read Today I am doing in calls in my tree house, come on over and swing me from a branch. I am offering lunch time specials.

I could not contain myself. I had never heard of a prostitute doing in calls in a tree. I had nothing going on for the day other than a willingness to have an unusual experience. I called her number and scheduled a time for us to meet in her tree. When I asked her how to find the tree she said, “It’s easy baby, it’s the tallest redwood across the street from the Shell station on Hinterland Ave. Just park your car and you will see a sign that says pussy and an arrow pointing up. Just climb the wood blocks that are nailed to the tree.” “Okay,” I said “I will see you in an hour.”

I took a shower and dressed hurriedly. My stomach was fizzing with butterflies, all the result of my great anticipation. It always amazes me how quickly life alters its course. One moment you are experiencing joy and contentment and the next minute everything is turned upside down and you are standing in tears beside the death bed of a friend. Or in my case you are filled with anger and despair and the next moment you are as excited as a kid and filled with the most tantalizing anticipation you have ever felt. There is no such thing as security in this life. Everything is in flux, always changing. This makes human beings afraid, and so out of this fear we have created the illusory notion of security.

I stopped at the bank and withdrew $60.00 from the ATM. I could not help but notice that my balance was less than $300.00. I stopped myself from worrying about my financial future and just stayed focused upon the naked blonde waiting for me in a tree. The redwood tree was easy to find. I saw the sign that said pussy with an arrow pointing upwards. I climbed up ate least 150 wooden steps until I could hear the prostitute saying “you are almost here.” I was out of breath when I arrived to the platform which she called her home. There was a futon covered in red blankets and a green carpet all along the floor. I noticed a rack which had a bundle of clothes dangling from it and a shelf upon which was food and books. She offered me some water and asked me to have a seat. I was having a difficult time catching my breath and slowing down the rapid beating of my heart.

She was gorgeous and had a perpetual smile upon her face. She told me her name was Dawn and then asked me what I do. “I am an unemployed Blogger and Teacher,” I told her and she laughed. “What is a Blogger?,” she asked. “Someone who wastes a lot of time in front of a computer writing things for people that he or she will never meet,” I cynically replied. “So then why do you do it?” she asked. “Because I don’t have anything better to do, and besides it’s a good way to connect with strangers.” She looked at me curiously and then I decided to change the subject. “So you live in this tree?” “Only part-time,” she replied. “I come up here when I work and when I want to be alone. It is a good place to work because the police will never catch me and it’s a good place to be alone because I am above it all.” I looked around. There was a beautiful 360 degree view of the entire bay area. “I found this tree fort one day a few years back when I decide to climb this tree for fun.” “You mean you just happened upon it?” I asked. “Yes, I guess you could say that…although I think it was a gift from the gods.”

Dawn began to undress. “So you want to fuck?” she asked me. I was nervous and unsure what I wanted to do. She could detect this. “You don’t want to fuck, do you?” she said with sad gloating eyes. “No, I am a married man and can not fuck another woman, but I am wondering if I could see you in the nude and maybe get a hand job?” I said feeling ridiculous about my question. “A hand job, that is all,” she said surprised. “I am yet to meet a man who has climbed all the way up here for just a hand job.” “Well today’s a special day,” I said with a slightly twisted smile upon my awkward face.

She took off all of her clothes, and I took off all of mine. I lied back on her red blankets and felt the afternoon wind crawl around on my bare chest. Squirrels rummaged through the branches and quails sat on tree branches and watched the entire show for free. Dawn did a little erotic dance for me and then started to swing from a tree branch. She wanted me to masturbate as I watched her show, but I felt a bit awkward doing so. I was worried that the tree branch would snap and she would fall hundreds of feet to her death. She did flips and twirled around like a gymnast on that tree branch. “She kept yelling “rub your cock for me,” but I was hesitant. She then came over to where I lied naked on the futon and lay down next to me. I could feel the silk sweat on her petite body. She kissed my nipples and rubbed her long blonde hair along my bare chest. I looked up into the blue sky, and as I saw a large airplane make its way overhead I felt her warm comforting hand begin to caress my cock.

My semen sprayed all over the place. I was embarrassed and quickly dressed. I helped her to clean it up and was very apologetic. She smiled at me and maternally said, “you have not had sex in along time, have you?” “It has been awhile,” I replied as I rubbed the wet towel over the semen stains on her red blanket. “Does not your wife pleasure you,” she asked as she put on her red lace underwear and bra. “In ways that are not sexual,” I replied. “You have got to fix that baby or this may not be the right marriage for you.” I knew that what she was saying was true, but I did not want to get into it. Two squirrels chased each other quickly over a branch above my head as I handed Dawn the $60.00 that I owed her. I kissed her cheeks and thanked her for the wild experience. “I loved the way that you twirled from that branch,” I said and we both laughed. “I do that all day for exercise. Takes my mind of all the stress,” she replied. “On your way down make sure you step slowly and hold on tight to the wood spikes,” she said as I began my descent. Once I had made it down to the ground the feeling of anticipation I had earlier felt had turned into guilt. As I got into my old car I knew that it was now time to return to my real life. However, I could not deny the slight smile upon my face as I thought about Dawn- the prostitute who lived in a tree.

The End.