Kacie Castle

Kacie Castle

57hrs:20mins till blowout. My mate Jay used to say that when working back in the day at Excel Logistics. When approaching the end of a shift on a Friday he would go around openly declaring, “It’s T minus 2 hours till blowout.” Blowing out means getting off your head. That used to make me laugh, because not only was he not ashamed of it, he blatantly went round letting people know the script.

I’m very similar, at the moment. Just over two days until I blowout. I can hardly wait, I’ve hung on two weeks while being skint. It’s like a release date from prison, using is, when it’s been a while. An escape from the norm, a departure from the prosaic. Leaving humanity behind, as Rich Piana says, and going beyond into the blue never-never. Two weeks straight (bored and skint) can feel like a long time.

I’ve got a hot date lined up with Kacie Castle. She’s a New York porn star, I believe. All my wings will be running dry inside her. This is not in the physical realm, you must understand, but across the airwaves. I’m meeting her in the Celluloid Corridor. I’ve slammed the Celluloid Corridor in the past, saying I want it out of my life, it’s this and it’s that; it’s been gone for the last four or five months, but now it’s back and there’s not all that much I can do about it. With my condition, and acting like an interactive live-stream portal, it’s too powerful to deny at the present time. I’m embarrassed about my powerlessness atm tbh (at the moment to be honest). I should be snapping up the DVD and buying a keyboard or some clothes instead. But a keyboard or some fresh clobber doesn’t provide that dopamine dump on the brain that an evening on coke with Kacie does, does it? Come on, blowout, hurry up and get here will you! I’m all about brain chemicals, dude. Sh*t, what the fu*k am I going to do? I’ll snap it up eventually, once the novelty wears off, and she’ll be in the graveyard with all the others (there’s a lot of others) but that time isn’t quite yet. So I’ll just enjoy some self-gratification while I’m in the mood. Hey, I ain’t hurting anybody. Only myself.

I’m over all the guilt and shame and regret which usually comes with using and fapping these days. I haven’t got time for it. There’s too much more to life once the deed is done. I’m still loved by God and that is the only thing that matters. He understands the needs and pressures I have and go through. It’s a solitary private endeavour and like I said there are no casualties. It’s just a bit of fun on my own. And I refuse, any longer, to be defined and condemned by the word addict. I should call myself a blogger (or a blagger lol) before I call myself an addict. It's a kop-out. I’m much more than that and I hardly recognise that label as a valid one anymore.