Sex, drugs, disease

Page 11 | 2020-10-23

My dear ic3,

I woke up from one of the most wicked dreams I had in a while. It may have been induced by the fever I'm suffering from, possibly from the notorious virus. The dream started with the knowledge that tomorrow the world would flood. It did. Everything turned into this wasteland of water, half crumbled buildings, and skaters/stoners chilling on the ruins. This girl I know, d3b, had a watervan which we could use to drive around. I could only imagine it because she never turned up again, which is a shame, because I did want to fuck her. I ended up just hanging around in this wasteland, hanging with some of the people there.

I've never really had sex in my dreams. I've been horny, there were vague implications too, but never a realistic act of fucking. I wonder if I just need to git gud or it's just not possible. I did, however, manage to have sex in real life recently! And I met her on Tinder, of all places! I had stopped using Tinder for a while until I matched her one late morning. I'm not really against the concept of Tinder, like so many people, but I do favor meeting people in real life over the internet for stuff like this. Not that you know who you have in front of you 100% when talking to them in real life, but at least you have more ways to sense the other. What I absolutely despise about Tinder is the data-collection and the creepy profiles they build on their customers, possibly learning everything about them: from sexual orientation to kinks, from political beliefs to whether or not the person is racist.

I've had 'successful' matches before. We'd go on a date, hang out, have sex, whatever. Usually it was very boring and predictable, becoming more boring with each new match. It had never happened before that I was STRUCK WITH LOVE on first sight based on just the pictures. I couldn't stop thinking about her the days before we met. She was just the most charming and cute person I had ever seen. The pictures really were perfect! We decided to go for a walk in the forest. I brought tea in a thermos because I'm broke as fuck and all places were probably closed anyway. When I saw her in real life the effect the pictures had on me wasn't there anymore, though she was still cute and I could picture myself falling in love with her. But as with all my Tinder dates so far, it was the voice that surprised me most. I never really realized how important someone's voice is. It's not that I didn't like it, it was just different than what I had pictured.

It was a cool date, I didn't get bored, she was interesting. We shared comfortable silences. Went to my place to make food. Kissed, fucked, ate, fucked, went for a walk and tea on a bridge on shrooms that didn't work, held hands, went to sleep, woke up, fucked some more, even anal (she has very flexible ass), she liked rimming too, showered together, didn't have an awkward goodbye, and we'd both like to see each other again. In other words, it was a perfect date. It was the first time I ever kissed a girl for the first time while sober (admittedly there might have been traces of ketamine in my blood from the night before). This is something I had wanted to achieve for a long time, but now happened when I didn't expect it. Now that I'm ill I haven't been able to see anyone, but we stay in touch over WhatsApp, I hope we do see each other again.

During my time of sickness I've also been able to reflect on the festival I did with pirat3. She's been treating me like shit for not acting like her slave anymore. I set out to help her with the festival, as well as her personal life (her situation with the boat, no money, no water, no electricity) but it has taken it's toll on me and I need to take a break from it. She even offered me to take a break herself, I accepted it, and went partying and skating. Now she's mad that "I waste my time partying and skating instead of helping her" in similar words. The after-movie needs to be edited, stuff she borrowed needs to be returned, she needs to sell her stuff she can't take to Russia, other shit too I'm sure. But she lives with the idea that "friends look out for each other," and since I don't come running the moment she demands, I'm apparently not a friend. The way she acts, so impatiently, impulsively, I'm not surprised her entire life is a ruin (including her fucked knee and back). But I'm not planning to sacrifice mine for hers, and if that's what would make me a friend to her, than I'm clearly not. But I don't care. I have my own life to live, just like Jimi Hendrix put so perfectly. I mean, I'll probably help her once I find the time and energy again, since I liked hanging with her, but I have limits, and currently she's forcing me to break them, which I won't allow.

In other news, I've recently started a film club. pirat3 gave me her projector, and I've been using the generator we found to do screenings in a smelly squat with rats but without electricty and water. I'm planning to screen whatever I feel like, for whatever audience that shows up, so far the first night was a success. I'm thinking if I can turn this into a global thing or combine it with my magazine's upcoming issue somehow. I'll let you know when I know more.

Today I'll rest some more, just like the past couple of days. I'm at same time annoyed and happy by my illness. I needed to take a brake from life to reflect, but it also makes me realize I'm boiling with plans and energy.

All the best and stay safe,