I wake to the hiss of static commute. It seethes more than any rude awakening. 6.47am. No alarm, no groggy scrolling, I'm busting anyway. I place the scales on the good tile; the one right next to the drain. I'm down a kilo in 3 days. I'm not surprised. I put it down to fight or flight. I shrug and pick up my phone to log it. I remember why I didn't pick it up before - a friend is trying to convince me what a piece of crap I am for my apathetic attitude. I pick out some words but nothing really penetrates my hard shell. I'm starving. I should eat on the balcony; it's a decent morning. But I feel gulity for stepping out of confinement. It's a luxury none of us deserve right now. I cook something nice up to distract my mind thinking where I should be. Yesterday I was on my homespun carousel and today I have been thrown off, now lost. I sit down to eat and figure my new life out. I take my time, there's no rush in this mad world.
Open a new tab on your browser. Google ‘hands free orgasm'. Scroll through the Pornhub links and tantric sex instructions until you find an account of a personal experience. I couldn't. So here's mine: What ever happened to the 90s heartthrob Josh Hartnett? I saw the trailer for Halloween: H20 on TV when I was a preteen and bam! First school girl crush. Those brown eyes, skater boy haircut and perfect jawline soon became a feature on my bedroom wall. But as soon as those posters went up, they came down. The box office success of Pearl Harbour didn’t leave much in its wake for ol’ Josh. We forgot about him as he left the spotlight of Hollywood and back into the shadows of indie films and mid-western Minnesota. A few years after its low-profile release, I watched 40 Days and 40 Nights and three things crossed my mind: 1. Oh Josh! 2. Is it really that hard not having sex for 40 days and 40 nights? And 3. Maybe one day when I’m having it regularly, I’ll find out. Nea