Alright, ladies...there's only 28 days left of the possibility of contacting the man behind all of this goodness you see before you. That's right: j. edward will be discontinuing his membership to this lovely site after only 3 months of ungodly self-abuse and failed attempts to contact emotionally unavailable Suicide Girls (you KNOW that I loved you with all my HEART!) due to the imminent arrival of better fucking things to do with his time.
Yes, this site is a waste of my time, although I'm sure that meeting some of you people in person and discussing God, death, love, time, words, images, sounds, etc. would be delightful and highly worthwhile. I just hate sitting in front of a computer for hours upon end and never producing anything of intellectual or artistic merit, but merely lustfully indulging in my porn addiction by staring at pictures of girls with funny hair colors, strange piercings, and extremely-ridiculous-to-really-fucking-sexy-and-cool tattoos that make me want to pull my dick off or bite myself in the nipple or smack myself in the face or something.
It's a fun vice, but I would like to ween myself off of it, seeing as it's hardly enhancing my being-in-the-world (that's right, folks--Heidegger) or doing any of that intersubjective-type stuff that ol' Merleau-Ponty and Levinas like to talk about so much (and, oh, how I want to immerse myself in the "flesh of the world"!). Basically, you--whomever you might be--have a little less than a month to say hi, start a conversation, arrange to meet with me, fuck my brains out, dis the shit out of me, argue, download my hairy, sexy-ass pics, rock my world, or whatever the hell you want to do with/to me (perhaps nothing at all...). That's it. The clock is ticking. Choose your j.edwardian fate. One way or another, you will have one (whether marked by somethingness or nothingness; realization, or the lack thereof). The gravity...the nauseating feeling of freedom with regard to these possibilities; I know it's rough. But so is life, my friend.
Yes, this site is a waste of my time, although I'm sure that meeting some of you people in person and discussing God, death, love, time, words, images, sounds, etc. would be delightful and highly worthwhile. I just hate sitting in front of a computer for hours upon end and never producing anything of intellectual or artistic merit, but merely lustfully indulging in my porn addiction by staring at pictures of girls with funny hair colors, strange piercings, and extremely-ridiculous-to-really-fucking-sexy-and-cool tattoos that make me want to pull my dick off or bite myself in the nipple or smack myself in the face or something.
It's a fun vice, but I would like to ween myself off of it, seeing as it's hardly enhancing my being-in-the-world (that's right, folks--Heidegger) or doing any of that intersubjective-type stuff that ol' Merleau-Ponty and Levinas like to talk about so much (and, oh, how I want to immerse myself in the "flesh of the world"!). Basically, you--whomever you might be--have a little less than a month to say hi, start a conversation, arrange to meet with me, fuck my brains out, dis the shit out of me, argue, download my hairy, sexy-ass pics, rock my world, or whatever the hell you want to do with/to me (perhaps nothing at all...). That's it. The clock is ticking. Choose your j.edwardian fate. One way or another, you will have one (whether marked by somethingness or nothingness; realization, or the lack thereof). The gravity...the nauseating feeling of freedom with regard to these possibilities; I know it's rough. But so is life, my friend.
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I'm genuinely curious.