Eating earwax and other fun things
Fiona Flynn
If you want to reach orgasm without doing the whole masturbation thing, I recommend sticking a Q tip in your ear. Poke around for a bit and hit the sweet spot–you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Once you’ve begun itching it like a tweaker, you will find yourself staring into just one of your eyes in the mirror as you reach a cataclysmic concoction of the equivalent to creaming your jeans. It reminds you of the time your meth-head aunt gave you too many shrooms and you sat in bed, paralyzed, because every inch of your body was orgasming. A man could never make me cum the way those mushrooms did that day.
At some point you may find yourself going too far, you overdid it, like that celebrity who’s had sex with so many twenty somethings that they don’t know their mouth from their asshole. They stopped counting bodies and now they bump into the Chateau waitress they fucked last weekend, while walking hand in hand with their micro-influencer of the week (she really just wants to fuck his even more A-list celebrity friend—oops).
If you’ve been digging in there for more than 2 minutes you will begin to feel really dirty—like the first time you watched porn with your middle school best friend and she tells you that if you feel a tingle down there you’re a lesbian.
At this point you need to give yourself a serious talking to about this absurd behavior you’re allowing to transgress. Pull that damn thing out of your ear! But what would happen if you really let yourself fall into this masochistic pursuit of hedonism like everyone else in Los Angeles. You’re now like every other junkie and libertine of the world—riding in some dude’s Tesla, vermined with dopamine, sucking his dick while the car drives itself down the highway. The only possible destination being that of a total nihilistic void of endless doom-scrolling through TikTok and eternal objectification.
You come to—you’re 30 years old (gross). You pull the Q tip out—gold clings to its head. It's beautiful, it almost sparkles, so enticing–a golden, ageist, wasteland. You taste it. Disgusting. Spit, purge. Today you learned the reward is never as sweet as the journey.
Fiona Flynn is an L.A. based artist who currently resides in Silver Lake with her cat she stole, Bones. Her work often follows a wild ride between absurdism and nihilism. Fiona enjoys driving without a seatbelt and doing poppers because they’re zero calories. She is a born again virgin and loves her family very much.