I just masturbated, did so with the lights on because I am not tired, not going to bed and I like to occasionally look at my penis down there, and afterward lying in my bed, I got a whiff from my armpit and smelled my pretty pungent b.o. and thought to that Whitman line, "these armpits, aroma finer than prayer," thought to whether or not I should worry if my neighbors can see me lying naked in bed since I don't have curtains of any kind of my window and I can see other people's rooms, apartments from my bed - but back to the pit and the smell coming out of it - lately, for two weeks at least, I have not worn deodorant. I ran out of it a while ago, and even that, Tom's was never that good, so I have always been a little smelly, but without, so smelly and I was in love with the smell now and surely this is not good, this will not attract boys to me, not that that happens even when I don't stink but this could be the final nail in the coffin of isolating myself socially by not caring that I smell, in fact, embracing it, this smell, this me that I try to sanitize. And CBS Evening News is doing a special weeklong series of reports on the possible link between antiperspirant and breast cancer all this week and maybe soon I won't be alone in my smelliness. A nation of evening news watchers all embracing Tom's also and being always mildly smelly.

I watched more awful tv today that I care to admit, close to ten hours and not one thing worth telling you about, and now, I have guilt about it, am full of a little self loathing, but just a little because there is quite a bit of coffee pulsing through my system. I smell and I love it. There is a little snow on the ground and supposedly there will be much more come Tuesday morning when I wake up. During all this tv watching, something that I should be even more embarrassed to admit than the fact that I watched Stepmom, I am going to confess that I was really turned on by a commercial for Axe cologne. They are always the most absurd commercials, marketing sex of some sort, sexual attractiveness, that it is essentially Spanish Fly, and yet today, knowing this, I was still so turned on watching this chiseled shirtless guy spray it all over his chest before going out, and surely I would hate anyone that wore cologne, let alone that much of it, but the sight of his body blinded me to my current vogue for promoting b.o. and allowed me to see past the fact that this boy was the enemy, campaigning for opposing forces that try to have us smelling like synthetic chemicals of some sort or another. But yes, turned on and for the next couple hours, daydreamed about other boys. This was just the spark, this Axe boy that lit that fire for desire of boys in general and I thought to a few, thought back to Halloween boy again and continued to curse myself for not getting his number or anything, thought to friends, thought to how much I wish I had someone in my phone I could call right now for sex that I would want to have sex with and how they would oblige, how they would want it to. But that wasn't in my phone and that's why I spent so much time watching tv with my roommate, even with her there, still so alone, no boy in my bed waiting with his penis there, that chest there, that body there, that b.o. there, only the absence of it and I longed for this and more inexpressable things, at least as easily so in terms of pure erotic visual imagination, some unerotic things, but some things that make the idea of life seem fulfilling and yours seem not so when you are watching bad television for no reason at all on a Sunday morning, afternoon, and night only because there are not only no better options, but no options. I proved myself wrong on that point just before sitting here, that there are other options, but surely I would have been doing that earlier had not all my roommates been out in the living room, and my door made of the flimsiest glass.