in which the celebrated author relates his feelings on the subjects you will know of when you read
2006-02-09 9:23 p.m.

so i was lying in my bed and starting my usual daily before sleep jack off

boooorring

and i tried to suck myself but it was too hard, i could almost bring my tongue to touch my penis, but man it was fucking painful to my back

but then seeing my penis so close to my face

i decided to cum on my face

and i jacked off in the right posture, with my legs up and my penis above me , and sprinkled my face and made myself swallow most of my cum ( swallow bitch swallow! )

this indian food makes my cum taste HoReNdOuS.

and then i lay there with my cum all over my face amazed at how perverse it all felt ( i could move my penis infront of my eyes as i was coming... ) and i was like oh my god this is so funny.
...................................................
today i woke up, and cried abit, at the utter uselessness of it all and all that shit

and then walked around in nature and suddenly i was supremly content at how useful and meaningful it all is, the biggest valley in the world spread before my eyes, and how i feel completely satisfied, i need nothing that i don't have, and i mocked my morning self

and then i met a group of 20 year old indian guys, and talked to them and they invited me to their house for lunch and they were so thrilled that i said yes
"i'm happy, i'm so happy you are coming. u happy?"
"now we are best friends"
"i love you" ( from a guy, who has no romantic in me!)
and i spent the day with them in nature and talking to them and they are so unbelievable good hearted in such a naive sort of way you could melt, fucking melt, i don't know how to handle such sincere love from strangers.... i tried my best though
and i'm happy
i truly am ( though if this draft will delete one more time and make me write this again i wont be! )
i will probably cry tomarrow morning too though, shithead.
......................
and i hear this stone roses song, not that the song is important, and i remember that i heard it while i was walking back from work in dundee, scotland, that 2 weeks when i lived alone, worked alone, and hardly spoke 20 words a day not to myself. and heard the same song coming out of some shit scottish house. and it makes me remember how i felt then - how utterly filled i was with such infinte sadness, the feeling so strong, so overwhelming, so colorful beautiful. that feeling when you feel so strong that only thing that seems to compare to it in its strength is death, any description of it has to include death somehow.... as if my very soul wants to escape out of body as a result of the immensity of emotion......

and i hear that kid loco song, and then immediately that feeling bobs into my mind, that feeling of 4 in the morning, sitting yet again for the 1000'th time infront of the computer which my army service obliges me to sit infront. another girl who is making the night shift with me is sitting besides me, and we are silent, and my mind is somewhere between sleep and life, and the desperation of having to be there, and of knowing that i still have sooooooooo long left in my service, and the desperation of other things which i don't even remember is so strong that that feeling of death again infuses my blood, and the emotion is transered with the help of the music into some divine overwhelming feeling, which is not the same as the one i felt later in scotland but definitely from the same family...... completely immersed with it, breathing IS futile. and it is so powerful there isn't even a point in talking about it regarding other common emotions and thoughts, it is something simply from another world.

it is the same family of feelings which made me do certain things at certain points of life, that made me sit infront of sprinkles late at night (or early morning), that made me start this diary, that made me dance naked in my living room with that knife, that made me become god in that guarding station, cry so many times usually out of sadness but sometimes out of happiness, and so many other times made me do these kind of things. it is a part of me. it is not that i'm nostalgic or anything - i'm not coloring the past with velvet colors. i remember the pain, but i remember also which kind of pain it was, and i remember how beautiful it was, and everytime when i remember an instance of this kind of feeling i am filled with feelings of longing to be there again, just for a while. not all pain, but this kind ( which sometimes manifests itself not in sadness but in happiness!) .

so i remember. and i'm happy i'm a person who feels this, because the times when i feel this feeling, when death pops its head, are the only times im truly alive.
...........
naaa forget about it (regarding things which were written but then deleted by the celebrated auther, deemed to be unworthy to be included in such a respected history)