5 am. Couldn't sleep so I lay on the couch listening to Gorecki's Sorrowful Songs while the rolling news played out silently on the television. I tried to think of R. Masturbation seemed the only hope of puncutating these swathes of sleepless time so, with my flaccid dick in my hand I tried to imagine some companiable, domestic sex with R. There was a joyous, bouncy and entirely unerotic quality to these imaginings and forty minutes later I was still holding my limp and useless dick. It wasn't until I included some bumbling teenage romance as prelude to the pornography- a kiss on her neck, my nervous hand on her bra- that I became excited and then furiously whacked off the whole business in seconds. I was appalled.

Today will be ruinous.