Sunday, September 10, 2006
this blog is my 69th, and when that number gets conjured up in the air, i feel that i'm growing horns and tails behind my boyishly naive smile. having slept at rhoda's, i supposed i could go out and tour benighted cubao as a force of my three o'clock habit, but a splitting headache up there plugged me in rachel's bed (no, i didn't sleep next to a woman--rachel stayed overnight in the hospital her sister was confined in; i'm too aware that the world can still tolerate not being obliterated for its inhabitants' variegated perversions). only after lunchtime did i launch into the day, meeting a gigolo up north and sharing a threesome with a middle-aged guy i frankly didn't like. it tuned out that the guy paid the gigolo with some grands, offering some hundred bucks to me. tempted to get the money to buy discounted books i've seen gathering dust in monumento, i declined upon realizing that the receipt of prostitution money would reduce me into a literal whore. i've settled to prostituting my pen, thank you, and i actually got to purchase rare books as a result of this kind of whoring. lucky are those who get paid to do something they like, but the very act is so repulsive, how can i possibly submit myself to such debasement?