updated our enrollment estimates of drug coverage for medicare beneficiaries. meanwhile, raj chetty imputed everything
cannot conceive a higher priority than a peaceful morning at home. "home is where i want to be" - paul simon. marshmallow cake, best i've ever had
could participate at publication but no longer. blue hearts emojis make me feel old, unrefrigerated milk raises my eyebrow. other customers jumped in their vr headsets, maite, thais, guilherme, and i shared a drink: this is how you get monkeypox. the good days of my life seem without end
believe my father held an alaskan king crab in his non-camera hand, caught during juneau's limited crabbing season. bambina tem antiquario
read portnoy's complaint by philip roth. the psychoanalysis of an insatiable, high-functioning jerk-off artist
her ubiquity and his constipation, my mother flying in through the bedroom window, my father reading the evening paper with a suppository up his ass . . . these, doctor, are the earliest impressions i have of my parents
i discovered on the underside of my penis, just where the shaft meets the head, a little discolored dot that has since been diagnosed as a freckle. cancer. i had given myself cancer. all that pulling and tugging at my own flesh, all that friction, had given me an incurable disease. and not yet fourteen! in bed at night the tears rolled from my eyes. "no!" i sobbed. "i don't want to die! please - no!" but then, because i would very shortly be a corpse anyway, i went ahead as usual and jerked off into my sock. i had taken to carrying the dirty socks into bed with me at night so as to be able to use one as a receptacle upon retiring, and the other upon awakening
this is the best air in the world, good winter piney air
even in the chinese restaurant, where the lord has lifted the ban on pork dishes for the obedient children of israel, the eating of lobster cantonese is considered by god (whose mouthpiece on earth, in matters pertaining to food, is my mom) to be totally out of the question
i have already confessed to the piece of liver that i bought in a butcher shop and banged behind a billboard on the way to a bar mitzvah lesson. well, i wish ot make a clean breast of it, your holiness. that - she - it - wasn't my first piece. my first piece i had in the privacy of my own home, rolled round my cock in the bathroom at three-thirty - and then had again on the end of a fork, at five-thirty, along with the other members of that poor innocent family of mine
don't bullshit me, portnoy. recite the dirty poem
ah, fuck that noise
wouldn't it be nice someday to live in the country with somebody you really liked?
8/18