Mechanism for survival: Try something new every day. Whether it’s strolling into an unfamiliar neighborhood (shoddy La Boca), or eating a different kind of empanada (carrot in whole wheat), the novelty dilutes my worries and reaffirms my zest for living.
I gave Stanley to an acquaintance two days ago. He had replied to a message I posted online, saying he was interested in a “trial run.” No more licks waking me up in the morning. No more habitual walks, waving hello to the homeless man who feeds the pigeons. Funny how in just a month, this little hairy being became my confidante. Maybe it makes sense - there were no cultural clashes or language chasms to inhibit us, as is usually the case for travelers. Who knows if I will ever be so close to anything Argentine again?
You can imagine what a mess I was as I relinquished Stanley. (Only 2% of this had to do with his huge, un-neutered erection just a few hours before. There are few things in life more horrific than watching your pet ejaculate right beside you, then having to clean it up.) For heavy onslaughts of tears (and trajectories of cum), I suggest paper towels, they’re much more durable.
Phoebe is staying with me until my lease runs out in two weeks, at which point, I don’t know what the fuck. (Suggestions are welcome.) The only plan now is to Do One New Thing A Day, and not look back.
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