Speaking of cells, I have a new cell phone. Like my old cell phone, it has a camera. Gary commented that I don’t really need a camera. I said, but I do, what if some guy is jerking off on the train and I need to take his picture to give to the police (As one woman did to the owner of a Manhattan raw food restaurant — whose specialty is, ironically enough nut milk…)? I have often encountered such situations both here in NY and in Japan (once in an old cemetery). Theoretically, they shouldn’t be a problem — no more so than, say, blowing one’s nose or pulling on one’s earlobe — but the problem is that as a woman I always see the spectacle of public male masturbation as a potential prelude to, or a substitute for, an assault.

What if humans could do everything in public? Is that what we are moving towards, as a culture?

I don’t mind seeing people kissing in public but I hate to hear it — that sound of sticky flesh separating, sucking air through moisture. It nauseates me, as if I were obliged to sit next to someone eating a banana in the morning.

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