And Onan knew that the seed would not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother’s wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest he should give seed to his brother.
In the mornings I sit at my computer and masturbate. I am so grandly deluded that I think the world being okay depends on whether or not I succeed at masturbating every morning.
Sometimes I assist others in their masturbation pursuits: for example, I mentor a woman who started masturbating in prison. Every month or so we get together and she shows me how she does it and I give her sage advice from my trove of masturbatory lore. I derive satisfaction from this act of masturbation-by-proxy.
My early-morning routine was disrupted recently, which sucks, because what if I never got back to my contemplative life-habit? Would the world survive? Would I?
Last week an oral surgeon masturbated all over my wisdom teeth, leaving nothing but empty sockets sewn up with black thread. Luckily La Mère Gaucher was visiting, and nursed me semi-tenderly. Then we took a field trip to Pennsylvania, and I admit we did masturbate in flea markets and antique shops, while watching strapping Amish boys in horse-drawn buggies, and in the car, while the scenery flew by.
So far I’m two days into recovering my masturbation routine. As a reward, I’m going out tonight—and there’s so much ground to cover! We’ve got a reading at Pete’s, an art opening at Saved, and drinks later on at Youpers. If my wisdom sockets hold up, I’ll be so full of Jameson and good cheer, so elated at watching the world go about its business—thanks to my hands!—that I’ll gaze about me, dazzled by the fiction writers masturbating publicly, the framed masturbations on the gallery walls, and the bartenders setting cold drinks on the bar with masturbatory zeal.
And I might be so dazzled by this perfect gorgeous world, for which I am solely responsible, so high on self-pleasure, that I’ll be tempted to take some cute boy home, even though it’s not the smartest thing to do, and might mess up my carefully calibrated Masturbationpolitik. If I know what’s good for me, and the world, I’ll go home by myself, jerk off, and get some sleep. Tomorrow is an important day, and we all have a lot of work to do.
And the thing which he did displeased the LORD; therefore He slew him also. –Genesis 38:7-10
3 Responses to “And Onan knew that the seed would not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother’s wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest he should give seed to his brother.”
1 Pistol Whip 19 May 2007 @ 3:18 pm
I’ve got it set up so there’s a big mirror right in front of where I masturbate.
Thing is, the idea of watching yourself masturbate is probably better than the reality.
Personally, I was pretty spooked by it.
So I taped a picture of an anvil right at eye-level. I can’t see myself anymore, plus it’s a reminder that I had better masturbate really really really fast.
Because one never knows. Does one.
2 Mr. Pistol 21 May 2007 @ 8:04 am
I always masturbate down in the basement with headphones on.
3 Pistol Whip 21 May 2007 @ 11:07 am
I masturbate whilst walking down the L platform with my headphones on. Sometimes dudes check me out, but sometimes they’re too busy with their own masturbations. I try not to take it personally.
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