Travel Diary: 20th December

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Wednesday

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I’m using my noise-cancelling headphones with their cable- I feel too fragile for bluetooth right now, like the waves might somehow damage me. I got seat 7A, a great location, turns out it’s right behind the curtain of elusive Plus Class or whatever rank they’re using here, and they are teasing us with a smell of fresh food and loud clinging of cutlery. How many sets of cutlery do you need to enjoy a 2 hour flight piscolabis? Three, as I found out last time that I had an upgrade. I had to wait a bit for mine as the attendant forgot about me, but oh when it arrived, was it worth it. You can hardly juggle your way around your folding tray to keep all the silverware in front of you, one daft move and you’d cause an orchestral disaster. Such is the price you pay for excess. Excess is important for a true feel of Business, or whatever distinction they use.

When I get to Ibiza I’m looking forward to lie down and not talk to anyone, and not give any explanations for my behaviour. I need to get better and I can’t do so if I have only enemies around. People enter my life from two categories lately: the fatalist ones, and the selfish narcissistic. The first ones select one mild annoyance and use it to argue how your life is crumbling, the second push and push until they get you to organise a plan that will serve them. It doesn’t feel good, and my plan for 2018 is to reject everything that doesn’t feel good. It’s passe

My main regret when I travel is that I can’t take all my clothes with me. This should be gratifying, but I would rather have a big enough selection of outfits because outfits are how I get into moods. Like an actress who waits to be directed, I decide who I want to be that day and dress accordingly, and I feel stripped of my identity if I’m in the wrong clothes. Same with handbags, I like to carry something that I stand for, it’s like a flag. That something must be very beautiful. Any object could do really, it needn’t be a handbag, handbags fit more into the social arena than, say, a snow globe.

They served us tea and the question arises, “do you have cane sugar” to which he answered, no, and once again I regret forgetting the most important thing to carry with you when traveling: a pot of honey. This is the one thing I’d consider getting tattooed on my hand. Natural sweetener.

My head throbbing is improving rather than getting worse, I’m very relieved. I’m a soldier and I didn’t tell, but I was expecting my head to explode on air and me having to use my healing powers for good and evil.

My mind suddenly drifted to a time where I was covered in semen, maybe don’t publish this. It’s nice to be in that situation after spending time with boys who have, let’s say a problem, releasing themselves.

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A few weeks ago I received an acquaintance of mine in a silk lingerie twin set: he was so put off by the evident prospect of sex that he only kissed me as he was leaving. I don’t know why, since I always tell him that I won’t try to sleep with him and I have kept my word. Whether he has succeeded in persuading me every time is a different story. But me in my underwear means nothing more than- me in my underwear - and no one should expect sexual relations from it. Right now, I only want my mind grabbed, and I like performing sex differently every time. I want to hook up with people who get this, and wank in their own time.

The calm here in heaven is so soothing. As I look outside the window into the clouds, I know that everything is as it should be. And I don’t mean that in a pitiful tone, I mean everything’s fantastic.