I always understood the notch in the bedpost thing. Not because I like bragging about sex (discussion of achieving my desires makes me feel uncomfortable), but because it is all about nostalgia. It’s about being in your bed and being able to look up to the wood above your head and remember good times you had in the exact place you are right now.
I have nostalgia for the place I am laying right now. I am in a bed I have moved closer to an outlet. I moved it closer to an outlet so that my laptop can sit on my sleeping lap in order to kill the accident-creators in my balls in case the highly improbable happens and I jizz into something that isn’t a tissue. I’ve jizzed into tissues on this bed. I’ve then found the trash can or bathroom too far away and I’ve just set down the successes of my hand movements at the foot of my bed. I’ve spent until 2pm in this exact place wishing that the fan was closer so that I wouldn’t have to touch the floor that for all I know could be molten lava so that I wouldn’t be sweating under my blanket. I’ve stared at the ceiling from my current position hoping that those perseverance posters are right and if I keep doing the same thing something good will come. I’ve been let down by my attempted perseverance. Nothing comes from staring at a ceiling.
I think though. I think when I stare and that leads to these blogs. These blogs that entertain my pathetic readers who need to escape from their lives of jobs and life and other things boring to find how the other half lives. The other half that sits in their bed and stares – the fun half. These blog posts are the notches in my bed post for I have no wooden head thing, simply a mattress. And this is the electronic age, shouldn’t my nostalgia be e-nostalgia?