It Bores Me Also

so my question is….

How the fuck did u do that to yourself???

chiam:

Two very different things happened on the subway today while I was reading Krishnamurti. Perhaps you will think both are a little gross, but only one of them absurd.

When reading Krishnamurti, I am often drawn in to his words and insights to the extent where I begin, while still reading, to think about other things. This is not to say that I am distracted, or bored with what he has written: it’s that other thoughts are encouraged, and memories are rekindled. This is entirely against many of the things Krishnamurti writes, and for that I am guilty of not “being aware”.

It was at some random station along my routine commute that I snapped out of my Krishnamurti trance for the first time and noticed that the man sitting beside me in a dark blue suit was asleep on my shoulder. He was a small man so his head wasn’t all that heavy. What I then noticed angered me, and caused me to react quickly. That MOTHERFUCKER was drooling on my shoulder. Now I’m not talking about a little bit of spittle here. I am talking full on drooling. I woke that bastard up with a growl and a shove and pointed to my shoulder. His embarrassment was evident, and he quickly rummaged through his briefcase for some tissue.

Calmer, I began reading again, and whilst reading, ironically, about awareness, I was reminded of the time my penis began bleeding profusely.

A few years back, during maybe 2006, I woke up and decided to rub one out before heading off to work. I sat down, queued up some pictures of a Japanese pop star by the name of Sonim (ソニン) and started to get it on with myself. About ten minutes into my image induced fantasy I sensed that the viscosity levels downstairs had increased dramatically and I looked down to see what was up. My hand was covered in blood, blood was dripping onto my chair, and the amount of blood accumulating on my hand and boner was increasing. What to do, what to do? I decided the best thing to do was to finish the job, so I closed my eyes, focused, and rubbed one out like I have never rubbed one out before.

At this point, I ran to the bathroom and hosed myself down; washing as much blood as possible away. Of course, that didn’t stop the blood, so I dried everything off as best as I could, wrapped my dick in toilet paper, and not having any kind of medical tape available, used black electrical tape to keep my makeshift bandage in place.

Everything was under control; I headed to work, and sat a little uncomfortably at my desk until lunch. At lunch I went to a nearby hospital to have it checked out. The hospital near work was a University hospital, so when the doctor came into the room I was waiting in, a gaggle of his students was with him. It was all so very embarrassing. I dropped my pants, unwrapped the bandage, and showed thirteen people my blood stained cock; all the while explaining what had happened (Only one of the students knew who Sonim was).

As shocking as all this seems, what happened next shocked me more than what had happened in the morning. The doctor started asking me weather or not I had used any needles or knives while jerking off. The questions really caught me off guard, and to be honest, I was a bit offended. Did that motherfucker think I was a freak? He then asked me if I was lying about jerking off and wondered aloud to his students if I was instead trying to hide the fact that I had had sex with a hooker and somehow cut my penis inside her vag. I then wondered aloud to his students why I would make up such an embarrassing story about jerking off.

In the end I left the room with a legitimate bandage on my shaft, and some ointment.