It's been so long since I've had sex that I'm fantasizing about masturbating.

I had a stoner friend in Vancouver, who worked at the same place I did, surrounded by women. I gravitate towards oddballs and misfits, so we got along well. We mostly hung out to smoke pot mostly. We even tried acid together. I was reflecting on a photobooth picture of us, stone out of our heads so early in the morning while waiting at the bus station to Victoria, BC. That's the only photo of him I've got. He use to get under my skin about me being 8 years older than he, like I were extremely old, but mostly we made each other laugh. He was lonely and at times I got the creepy feeling he wanted me to do him a sexual favour. Why couldn't I get any women to hint like that? Anyway, the last I saw him, we hugged before he had to run some errands, then after that, he moved to Calgary to house sit for a friend. I still have his old cellphone number, but it doesn't work anymore, plus as long as I live at home with my parents, I don't smoke pot.

Men, to me, are like brothers. Since growing up with 2 of them, that's all they are to me.

I was hoping that my cheque for the radio spot and the student film I did would come through, but everytime I check the mailbox, it yawns back empty. Well, next week, my cheque for the background work I did last week should be processed and next friday is payday! I can enjoy such a day again! Some jobs, no matter how crappy they are, have payday for adults like christmas is for kids.

I have to get my tax papers together for my mom; she's off to Jamaica on friday to visit relatives but she's the financial brains of the family. I'm so undisciplined in getting my coins and dollars together though, but I want to keep some kind of money journal, an accounting book to see where my money goes.

I'm so weary from work, but it feels good. I was so use to feeling sluggish and unmotivated, but having a job and coming home with the weight of the new muscles adapting to their new movements feels like I've done something. It's like a happily-worn-out feeling rather than a sad one.

I still haven't taken off my uniform.

I had a dream a few nights ago that I was eating Kentucky-Fried Chicken, unable to really taste it. Whenever I have carnivorous dreams like that, it's like I'm exploring the side of me that's tired of being a vegan. Like I'm tired of thinking about what I'm putting in my mouth. The dreams are never satisfying though. I'm never moaning over my food or devouring it with relish. It's always in a detached manner, like I can't believe I'm doing it until I awake.