Innocentboy7 baring his ass..sent me a ‘wink’.   That’s what happens when you sit on Manhunt long enough.  Unlike the real city, this virtual city has no surprises.  Asses and cocks on view before they risk you judging their ugly mug, their pretty face.

A mountain of heaving pink and brown flesh.  Like some virtual concentration camp.  A tangle of broken limbs.  Faceless.  Broken.  Made to kneel at the edge of the pit before the single bullet to the head.

People like me and my friend Jon and his son.  People like me and Ashley.  People like me and my friend Rose.  Made to run over ploughed fields.  Naked.  To the pit.  To the single bullet.    A woman in a beautifully cut coat and dress protecting herself from two big dogs.  Her felt hat on her head.  Where is her bag?

Innocentboy 7 are you innocent?  Are you a boy?  I asked him.  He replied, “Yeah dude, I’m a flight attendant.”  He ‘unlocked’ the pictures of his face.  Thanks for the introduction.   I wasn’t interested in his ass or his face.

I love the city.  That’s where I want to trawl for men, male encounters.  The streets, we are all equal on the streets.  We can be mysterious.  We can be men.  In the summer, sweaty kisses.  Letting them undress you.  In the winter warming your hands on their hot bellies under layers of coats and scarves.  Strangers in virtual streets now wink at me.  “Hello Ducky, have you got a light?’   “Do you know the way to Piccadilly?”   or,  if you’re feeling particularly fresh, “My boyfriend and I..well, we was wondering?”

What is the point of meeting anyone if you know exactly what you are going to find slumbering in their underwear?   Where is the delicious mystery?   I don’t want to see your cock…or your ass.  Not until we have made a contract.   Your hot breath on my face, on my neck.  Kiss my eye lids.  Kiss me.  Seal it with a kiss.

Without doubt I have met some interesting people from the internet.  But…they ain’t going to fit in.   Will they listen to The XX?  Do they have the ability to light a fire?

Can they stay?  Did you ever think about just staying?  Turning your back on the life you had?  Just staying over and never leaving?

There are great forks of lightning dancing over the Pacific this morning.   Like those elephants in the Dali paintings, you know the ones..the paintings?  The real paintings.  When he was painting.  I think they are in Tampa, Florida of all places.  Did you know that?

Fixed the hot tub spa thingy yesterday.  It looks great.   Can’t wait to get in it.

Gayboyforolder just sent me a picture of his cock.  He is coyly pulling his underwear from his groin to reveal his meat, his cock, his prick, his weapon of war, his 8 and a half…well…sadly…it’s an ugly little thing.  I can’t imagine doing anything with that.  Not a girl like me.  It needs photoshopping.  It looks jaundiced.  It looks toxic. It looks traumatized.

Do you know who I am?

I have songs to sing today in imaginary opera houses, in Carnegie Hall, on the South Bank.  I have songs to sing.

Have not left the house for 8 days.  Last night a friend popped by and he was playing with my lap top and there was a moment when I wanted to hit him on the back of the head with my heavy metal torch because I HATE people messing with my laptop.  I would rather they looked at my soiled underwear.