Hey Kid, Catch.

For the past two weekends, I've received oral sex to completion by a very thirsty, 23 year old first year law school student. It is something worth talking about when I bust a nut with complete suction right up until ejaculation, so that my string of pearls is removed from within immediately. Aka slurping cum.

So, I treat a 23 year old like my cum dumpster. I worry sometimes, that my recent small success of being on a poster on a few Westside Buses might be going to my head, and that this is one of my shallow just rewards. Maybe I have finally sold out. In my heart, I have many things I need to accomplish, but it doesn't really matter professionally, because I'm already at the top of my game now that I'm over 30. Any work you get when you're over 30 comes only with vicious clawing or back alley hand jobs with creative executives. Am I willing to pay that price? What do people see when they cast me? Is my skin starting to sag and wrinkle up when I smile? Am I a convincing actor? Am I simply a hack with no artistry? Should I get a day job so that I could finally stop worrying about not having comprehensive health care coverage?

Yes, I recently had a nice windfall of gigs, but yesterday, I slipped up and didn't book one gig too many, and now I'm feeling absolutely fucked. There's nothing worse than the insincere Thank You from a fat and haggard casting director's face when you perform really badly at a callback for the network. When you give a shitty audition, a casting director looks at you with accusatory eyes as if you've stolen their secret flask of Goldschlager, and then the phone stops ringing for a few days, and your agent ignores you for awhile as punishment. Even though nobody will ever admit to any of this childish behavior, it really happens. All the time.

Unless you become a whore, marry a rich man, or win the lottery, there's very little quality of life for the working actor in Hollywood. Moderate success can come to those who stick with it beyond unbelievable odds, but being a celebrity certainly makes things a lot easier.

That's why getting blowjobs from adoring 23 year olds who haven't yet figured out that I'm a crackpot has become my latest coping mechanism. Shallow, long-term sexual intimacy doesn't really float my boat, but I seem to be getting good at it. And this guy sees to every request I make. He doesn't even undress, he just comes over to my apartment whenver I call, gets on his knees, unzips my fly and goes to work. And I measure my masculinity by his obedience. It is a classic deception that I'm cascading into head first, and I already know I will meet a bad end. Just like the three nuns on a downhill toboggan that my mother once told me about when I was a kid.

Sure I'm having fun, and sure it is HOT, but I'm really afraid that all of this is just teaching me how to manage a life filled with lonliness.