Day 3: SFFLTRT

Instruction: instead of focusing on breath in the nostrils, focus on subtle sensations on the skin in the mustache area above the upper lip, below the nostrils. Okay.

Mood swings are becoming severe. In the morning before breakfast I sink into a deep and unfocused, somewhat panicky depression. I decide to break the writing rule and start taking notes on paper towel.

Writing relieves the anxiety. I think a lot about how I may or may not be changed after ten days. I think about how I’m going to answer the “how was it” question: “Transformative, life changing, you HAVE to do it yourself! I am definitely putting my kids through this instead of Hebrew School.”

During afternoon meditation a voice in my head appears and keeps repeating enthusiastically: “It is a matter of complete indifference to me!” I feel great. Incredible actually. And the feeling doesn’t seem to be leaving me. “Am I enlightened?” I wonder. I think I am feeling quite enlightened! Back pain, complete indifference! I feel like I could sit for 100 hours. I could smile through a year of solitary confinement. All my loved ones could die, complete indifference! I could even rip up my notes paper towel! You know what, I’m going to go to my room and rip it up to prove it! Wait, er.. I don't want to do that. My pseudo-enlightenment gradually gives way to wallowing and counting.

I took a walk and saw Frank leading Goat Boy to the special pagoda that the “local meditator” obliquely mentioned during orientation. Fucking pagoda elitist bitch!

During a bad mood, I reflect and note how many times my mood has flipped just since lunch. I tell myself I’m going to take this insight very seriously and practice its implications tonight and tomorrow by riding my bipolarity with awareness and equanimity.

I note in bed that it’s a little weird that I haven’t thought about sex more than 3 or 4 times in passing given how many times I’ve thought about Denard Robinson.

So I start thinking about sex. I’m having trouble falling asleep. I start counting down from 100, where each number represents a thrust into a different girl’s open mouth -- any girl I free associate: friends, celebrities, old teachers. I wonder if I’ll be able to induce a sex dream this way, which would be nice given that I’m committed to not masturbating, though I worry about nutting in my more versatile sweatpants (the other fleecier ones were comfortable but too warm).

Dream: I start rubbing up against a tan and sexy female friend likely to read this (SFFLTRT), as her highlighter-colored thong shows out from under her denim skirt. Cut to another SFFLTRT, who comes in with her shirt off and bends over. Close male friend (and roommate!) rushes in and violently tries to rip off her panties from behind. I scold him for misreading the sexual dynamic. He looks very sad / surprised.

(225 pushups)