I bought another chain today.

It’s darker and has a grungier style, due to the fact that it’s matte instead of polished and looks as if it’s been industrially worn, although it’s hard to tell from the photo. I purchased it so I could wear a chain with my more formal clothes, since it’s less prominent. I’m rarely without a chain no matter what I wear, just because I feel naked without one now. I had to explain that to John when I wore it under my blazer to his fathers’ second wedding. Thank god this new one was on sale, because I felt pretty guilty buying something many times more expensive than my current $2 dog leash.

It’s barely long enough; I prefer very droopy chains. Actually, I don’t think it’s meant to droop so much, I just don’t have the large Caucasian male ass that I think it was meant for.

I walked out this morning in my linen pants and orange golf shirt in the 11°C weather. The sun was just over the horizon and a light fog was in the air, washing everything in a thin orange haze. It was so refreshing to be cold again, to see my breath hang heavy in the air. Maybe I was just hyper from exhaustion, but it felt as if nothing could possibly be wrong on a day like this.

The saturday morning ritual is as follows:

8:00 am — Wake up, get dressed, search change tin for $5.18 sandwich money
8:15 am — Leave apartment for table tennis practice, listen to Billy Talent’s self titled debut album on the way there
9:00 am — Arrive at club, play for two hours, lose half of body weight in sweat
11:00 am — Curse how fast the time went by, leave club, listen to Thrice’s Artist in the Ambulance album on the way back
11:30 am — Arrive at Centre, purchase roast beef sandwich at Michelle’s Baguette. If answering “please” to every topping suggestion, the person will go in the back and get the freshest lettuce leaves
12:00 pm — Arrive home, put on boring television to fill silence but not distract too much from the sandwich, savour multi-layered taste of roast beef on freshly baked poppy seed bread with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and mayo, thank the gods of lemon iced tea
12:15 pm — Shower
12:25 pm — Go back to sleep

I find that I’ve become more attracted to unconventional beauty lately. Well, that’s not to say that my past propensities have been completely traditional. Aaron thinks that my whole speech impediment thing is just me trying to be a unique person. I’m not really insulted by this (even though I’d normally be, especially since I have a great respect for Aaron’s opinions) simply because I think that if he had any…interesting tastes, he’d understand.

I once had a discussion with Trolley about the fact that almost any type of fetish made sense to me — hair, lolicon, necrophilia, rape, scatology, plucked chickens — except for foot fetishes. I mean, most of these all have very deep-rooted psychological justifications. Sex with animals, for example, may turn someone on due to feelings of dominance over an animal, or a belief that they are making something feel blissful pleasure (perhaps as a compensation for insecurity in being able to pleasure someone). Most any sort of fantasy can be relatively easily justified.

Aaron and I were even able to find a justification for bad teeth fetishes, which is an interesting idea since I know so many people who can’t stand crooked teeth. He knows people who only date others who are “less attractive” than them, and we take this as a sign that these people may be insecure about their looks, and are turned on when viewed as the more attractive person in the couple. Of course, this can be related to any sort of “flaw” that may be found in someone.

I once knew a girl who was turned on by guys using calculators, and I can easily relate this to my “girls wearing glasses” proclivity, insofar as being extremely attracted to intelligence, both being a sort of physical (albeit possibly societal) manifestation of an intangible thing.

Feet, however, I can only justify when related to the tribal tradition of feet-forehead touching. Subordination is represented in the younger people touching the feet of the elders with their foreheads. Perhaps someone may be attracted to the fact that they are brought to the level of the toe sucking, similar to the idea of dominance. It’s hard for me to even see foot fetishes on a basic physical level, which is easily done for breasts or waists, etc. unless one considers the impact of society on what people find attractive.

I can just see all the hits I’m going to get from interesting search strings now.

Most of my propensities can be easily explained, although I get various odd reactions when people find out, and most are either laughing too hard or too weirded out to allow an explanation. Speech impediments are something I just can’t seem to justify, although such an ineffable thing has allowed me to more easily accept the quirks of other peoples tastes.

So there’s this girl who works at Folio and she wears glasses and turtlenecks and is there whenever I buy something and I doubt other guys would find her as attractive as I do.

I bit my lip subconsciously today, and only realized when I looked away.

I tried playing Pat with a 38mm ball today, and had a hard time keeping it on the table. The ITTF only supports the use of the 40mm now, which is the only size the club uses, so I wasn’t used to the lightness of the 38. Basically I had to play conservatively the entire time, which is fairly frustrating when the best part of my game is smashing and counter-driving. After an hour, sweat started to sting my eyes, and I had a hard time keeping track of the ball. On a good note, my backhand loop is getting much better, even though fatigue has a heavy affect on the consistency.