liveblog 07/12/25

09:21: Vyvanse down the hatch, bitch! My vision is static, there’s a blade in my lower back, and I need to pee soooo bad. I disable my screentime lock to post, but end up scrolling instead.

09:47: I used to think Kyle was a bitch for not wanting to read the news, but jeez, this shit is grim. I think of the Ethel Cain lyric “Maybe you’re right and we should stop watching the news, cos baybe I’ve never seen brown eyes look so blue.”
Someone posts “Everyone complaining [about the Netflix monopoly] doesn’t realise we’re one step closer to Marnie Michaels on Squid Game,” and I feel fractionally better.
(I had to Google where to find square brackets on the keyboard. It’s next to P if you’re wondering)
I s’pose that’s why I post… A duty to make things a little easier…

10:00: Go to post on ig, think I should announce my website in the caption, quickly add age verification to site, site accidentally breaks

10:54: Finally fixed website (I hope). Balin texts that he thought of me when Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl played during a show he went to. Anywhomst, camera roll clear out time.

11:21: I delete a page from ‘Grotesque’ by Natsuo Kirino. I can’t tell if I saved the page because of the long paragraph about how unrealistic and strenuous the demands of men are, or the line “Her legs were straight but heavy and her hips were wide. What a pig. I looked away. I hate fat people,” then realised the line I liked was “The mood suffusing the apartment was one of resignation.”
From the screenshots I delete, I (re)learn/remember:

• Leonardo DiCaprio goes to restaurants with his boys and just to watcg porn at the table. 
• Bottoming tips: take Metamucil daily, douche at least 60min prior to avoid ‘leakage,’ don’t bottom if ur stool is too soft or ur constipated. 
• I googled “Is it normal for your boyfriend to not text you for two days?” 5 days before Marcus broke up with me in 2023
• In Scooby Doo Mystery Inc, they call a girl Hotdog Water because she was so poor that in order to shower she had to recycle the water her dad made hotdogs in 
• In 2022, the two browser tabs I had open were ‘which pokemon type am I’ & ‘am I a narcissist reddit’ 
• Michelle Visage has me muted on Twitter 
• Kyle tagged me in a tweet that said ‘you smell terrible and im going to beat the shit out of you’ and I miss him a little. The little turns into a medium amount

I laugh at

• “I made myself yawn randomly at times to be mean.” – Marie Calloway 
• A tweet that says ‘most women are really bad at sex. that’s the biggest reason they don’t finish’
• Another saying ‘tbh i dont want my relatives to watch over me when they die cuz i play with my pussy alot’
• An ad that says ‘bundle is fun’

& feel affected by

12:56: I take a break from deleting prison to have breakfast and stalk a guy on letterboxd who has the same name as my ex. Saw a hot guy on ig w skinny ankles and felt less weird about my own. Representation matters. 

13:34: Theodora says we can’t shoot the music video because she has a cold sore.
I have deleted 1,867 photos today.
I would like to go outside now. Craving the beach, but don’t wanna hit anyone up. Wait… I can totes go to the beach alone. Lemme have lunch then reflect on that.

14:03: A follower messages me “i have a screenshot of a story you posted in feb 2022 that says “I feel like if you put a thin layer of dirt over a baby they could tunnel to the center of the world be they kind of look like worms. They just choose not to dig through the earth unless they’re forced to. Which on paper sounds a bit bad, but they actually enjoy it. It’s kind of like when you’re peer pressured to have a cheeky drink when ur meant to be the designated driver” and i really do think about it every single day thanks”
It makes me think of a joke argument I had with Macie the other day. I said I have more impact than this random dj who has 30-40k more followers than me, and she disagreed. I wonder if the dj played a set in 2022 that someone out there thinks about every day. 

14:11: I still want to go to the beach, but I keep looking for excuses to not. I google the tide, if it’s high, I probably shouldn’t go cos it’ll be too cramped. It’s low. Fuck. 
I thinking about making a to-do list of ‘more productive’ uses of time, but don’t, and begin to snack on raw vegetables (yuck). 
I open Grindr to ignore the messages, I stare at the wall, scroll through my texts to gage who I still need to reply to, I tug on my pubic hair. 
I think of the Paradise Logic line “the main function of a boyfriend is to unlock goodness inside of the soul,” and wish someone would unlock the goodness inside of my soul, knowing full well I have the ability to unlock my own goodness, I’m just choosing not to.  
The word compromise rotates in glowing gold letters in my head.
I’ll make a to-do list for unlocking the goodness in my soul, which involves going to the beach, and then I’ll get both more phone time and be forced into going beach. 
Then I feel angry—who am I comprising with? Big tech? The demon who injected this sloth into my body? The notes app list will be made at the beach, I decide. 
I visualise a would you rather game show, where one button says ‘go on your phone at the beach and it’s warm and you increase your quality of life and get vitamin D and it will feel just as amazing as going on a lime scooter’ & another button that says ‘go on your phone in bed or on the couch where it’s dark and you’ll get sad then probably play league of legends and hate yourself for it’ 
I’m hit with a wave of social anxiety, visualising the live audience of this imaginary gameshow, and how they’ll judge me for whichever button I press, then I remember 1) I’m not supposed to be bothered by what others think 2) that’s an imaginary live audience. I get up off the couch and begin packing 

14:40: I fill my bag with my film camera, an extra roll, two water bottles, a pair jeans, a hoodie, two books, my headphones, and several snacks, then wonder why it’s heavy. One of the handles is torn, so I staple it together. I take a couple photos of my bedroom to help map out the best way to tidy it while at the beach. 

15:07: A car with the license plate IV KIDS swerves in front of me. I assume it means they have a few kids, but it makes me think of teenagers doing intravenous drugs. I then realise IV is four, and worry the driver is announcing they’re a preddy.
I can’t figure out how to make the AC work.

15:15: My crotch smells so good. My balls are wet. I keep wiping them with my finger and lifting it to my nose.

15:29: I arrive at the nude beach and everyone’s Brazilian. My stapled bag strap gives way, and I drop everything.
I collect my belongings and walk round the corner for shade.

15:51: The dampness from the sand works its way through my towel, but I don’t mind, because I’m screen-recording a tattoo artist’s Instagram story because he’s dancing shirtless and is really sexy. I can’t tell if he has top surgery scars or they’re just part of his artwork. It would make sense if they were, because he once told me off for calling him ‘wifey’. 
I read a couple chapters of ‘The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It. 
‘To succeed at self-control, you need to know how you fail’ is in big letters.
I think about what my goals for self-control could be 

• I don’t care enough about not smoking or vaping to make it my goal rn
• Get over my ex? I already am. Well, I’m on the way to. But I feel like making a goal about it would make my life even more centred around him (like the way women who hate men are still centring their lives around men)  
• League of legends / screen time – already have measures in place that I’m testing.. but I guess that would be good to keep tabs on  
• Writing? Live-blogging is a mighty fine warm up. 
• Tidying my room? Maybe

I learn that part of willpower control is taking advantage of your primitive instincts, not fighting them & that people who are distracted are more likely to give into temptations. 
The first exercise is to keep track of choices. Watch the process of giving in -> notice thoughts, feelings, prompts, situations, etc. 
I guess liveblogging is a good way to keep track of urges.

16:15: I head back to the busy side of the beach, partly because I hope someone approaches me, but mostly cos I need to dry my towel in direct sunlight.
I strip and run into the water, hand over my ass cos I did a really messy shit this morning, and even though I wiped really well and even used baby wipes, I’m still nervous about it. 
The water is shallow.
The ground is squelchy.
I put my head under, then get out. 

16:20: I see some guy I once fingered cos I couldn’t get hard for him (he was really hot, but I had some system errors that day). I don’t say hello.

16:31: My cheeks and back tingle, so I walk over the rocks to the shade. Someone calls my name from behind me. I lift my hand to cast a shadow over my eyes, but can’t tell who it is. Maybe he’s talking to the old man walking slightly in front of me. He’s well sculpted, twice my size, and I realise it’s Aidan, the most conventionally attractive man I’ve ever hooked up with, smoking a cigarette. Behind him is a silhouette of his partner, Candy, who I’ve never met. They’re both naked.
We small-talk, and they ask if I want to smoke with them.

16:40: We plant on a rocky plateau a couple meters above the sand. I tell Candy I once screenshotted a photo of them on Aidan’s story because they looked so pretty, then cringe, because I remember how it feels when people tell me that. Aidan talks about how his Instagram was suspended due to his side hustle, and mentions his new sugar daddy funded their trip to Vietnam.
The weed makes my hands shake. My voice comes out louder than I intend it to. I feel myself stutter and repeat sentences. It doesn’t matter because Candy is a magnetic storyteller. Their eyes sparkle, and they tap their feet when they giggle. I want to feel alive the way they do.
They talk about festival experiences and how their friends are visiting from Aussie, and those friends went to a swingers club but the sex there was ‘too performative.’ They say some really insightful things about sex and performance, which I immediately forget.

16:51: A wrinkly man with bandages on his hands and chest pops his head over the corner. “That’s some nice-smelling weed you’ve got there,” he says. Aidan offers him a drag; he accepts, then asks if we’re selling any. We decline.
The man asks if we’re going to the swingers event. We shake our heads, and he stays to chat for a while before heading along.
I notice the urge for nicotine gum, probably because Candy lit a cigarette. I have a few sips of water to distract the craving, but I pop a piece anyway.

17:10: Candy tells another invigorating story, this time about Aidan’s birthday at a drag bar, and how all the queens frothed over him. He says he was shy when they pulled him up on stage and made him act like Magic Mike. I wish him a happy birthday, and they say they need to head back to their friends. Because we’re kiwis, we say ‘bye, it was soooo nice seeing you’ like twenty times before they leave.

17:17: I put my headphones on and listen to The Hellp, then catch myself playing with my pubes. Fuck, I really am unaware of my impulses…

17:21: My boss posts a story at the same nude beach I’m at. It takes me a few minutes to decide whether to reply.

17:30: Fuuughk my back is actually so sore. It feels like someone has sewn bricks underneath each of my muscles. Only upon registering the pain I realise I’ve stood up, and am dancing softly.
People are looking at me, so I look at them funny back.
The weed has me realising that the people looking at me are actually cruising.
They scour the beach, turning their heads like they’re watching volleyball.
They make eye contact for a little too long, and sometimes look lower, too.
Their hands are often near their penises, and they’re often semi, too.
From further up on the rocks, a toned and tan man with shaggy hair locks his eyes on me.
I sit down to do some more goal-setting. Most of my brainstormed goals are unrealistic, like get back with all my exes at once, but I write that I need to do more interviews and photography.
The man’s eyes are still on me.
I skip to the water.
I kick the ripples and my skin feels like it’s made of glass.
The man’s cock is hard, and his bush is so 80s. He rubs it slowly.
The sunlight is warm through me. My blonde curls sway in the breeze. The air and water feel strangely womblike, or like one of those kisses that you feel through your entire body.
The man jacks himself off faster.
I stretch and keep playing around.
He cums as I walk back to my bag.

17:58: I open a group chat. They’re arguing about Israel.

18:00: The man is still hard, and his eyes haven’t budged. I put on my hoodie, Y.A.L.A. by M.I.A., and smile as I open Twitter to Candace Owens, then head towards the main side of the beach.
Some guy passes me, then slows down as if he wants to show off his ass. It’s large and looks equally soft and firm. The hair catches the sunlight. His skin is bronze and tattooed. He turns to me and lifts his chin slightly. The wake of air brushes my chest as he walks back past me.
There’s something etched into the sand. Writing in capital letters. I walk closer.
THROAT
FUCK ME
HARD
CORE
NO MERCY
I take a photo, then climb a rock to get a better angle.
Just as M.I.A. ‘sings’ “Alarms go off when I enter the building,” an “OI!” rattles my headphones.
“Did you just take my photo?” yells the man with the great ass.
“No.”
He torpedoes toward me. “I saw you take a fucking photo in my direction.”
“It was only of the words.”
He towers over me. “Do you want a fucking hiding? I don’t do none of that gay shit.”
“It would be really unethical to take someone’s photo at the nude beach.” I pull out my phone and show him the photo. “I just thought it was funny.”
“Well, get a move on or get a hiding. I’m not gay.”

He storms off. I feel sad we couldn’t have an enemies-to-lovers arc.

18:11: I stop by a rockpool and accidentally drop my towel in. The man who isn’t gay but has a great ass walks past, talking to a man with a saggy abdomen about how the bible has predicted everything that’s happening today, and mentions something about America, North Korea, and Armageddon.

18:18: I sit near a meditating man and check my phone. He burps loudly and apologises. A guy who I once stalked on social media and found out he fetishises asians walks past. He is very attractive.

18:44: At the first set of traffic lights, I wait behind a motorcycle and blast Audrey Hobert. A full song plays and the lights are still red. The cyclist reverses and rattles on my window. His helmet covers his face but he’s sexy. I roll it down and hope he can’t hear my song choice.
“I’m too light for the traffic light censor,” he says.
I drive forward, and the light turns green.
I listen to YALA for the rest of the ride.

7:31: I microwave mac & cheese, eat it, then notice the urge to have a piece of nicotine gum again. The prompt is because I often crave vape after eating. I decide to have a piece anyway and lie in bed. Mmmmm my armpits are so ripe. I wish I could put my face in them. 

20:02: Bennett texts “Heyy I only just got home and had a shower 🙁 don’t think I can do this evening sorry” and proposes another date for us to meet. 
I totally forgot we had plans. 

20:07: Caín texts that she misses me. A pang of longing twists in my guts. I ask why she’s still awake. She says she’s thinking about me, that a year ago we were having fun together in nyc, and lists some of our mutuals, then realises that none of them are still in the big apple. 
‘It’s hard belonging somewhere you’re just passing through,’ I reply. 

20:15: Blog update time.

21:00: My brother bursts into my room and says something I can’t hear. His face turns red. “Why do you have my shirt in your room?”
“You left it here when you borrowed my singlet.”
“Don’t touch my shit,” he scoffs.
He snatches the shirt from the floor and slams the door behind him.

22:21: I turn my lights off on the way upstairs to clean my teeth.

22:28: I don’t want to take a Q pill again because I didn’t like how I felt this morning, so I roll a big (about half the size of my pinkie finger and nail thin) joint.

22:34: Can’t find my lighter. Should I kms?

22:42: I light it in the toaster then scurry outside. The stars are bright. Smoke joint in middle of the road. Notice lime scooter. 

22:45: Lime a block around the neighbourhood in just my swim shorts and an open zip up. The scooter light makes funny shapes on the trees. 

I check behind me every ten seconds like I would a rear view. 

Scooter is particularly bouncy when not wearing shoes. I jump until my ankle wobbles. 

23:04: I eat a bowl of probiotic yogurt and a bowl of feijoa flavoured yogurt, salmon, microwave-popcorn, an apple, an oat bar, some cheese, and seaweed. 

23:11: Notice I’m not sleepy at all then crave a piece of Nic gum. 

11:19: Consider gaming or Jacking off