Oedipus at Aswan (Warning: members of my family really shouldn't read this post)

My father's sick. Or getting sick. Or recovering. He doesn't know. Probably picked up a bug in Cairo or Alexandria due to my enforced exposure of his body to grungy backpacker life.

I may in fact be killing my father.

At the same time we're being forced to bond: I'm talking to him all the time, we're helping each other across ruins, sharing bedrooms.

Thus we arrive at my unique problem:

1) To fall asleep, I find that it helps to relax my brain with sexual fantasies.

2) I tend to fetishise men who look like teenage versions of my father.

3) Everyone keeps commenting how young my father looks.

This definitely isn't good. I'm between sleeping with and killing my father, and tomorrow we're going to Luxor. Which was, in the old day, Thebes.

And of course, we've already met the Sphinx. (Photo coming.)

I definitely need to get laid sometime. I don't think I care much for Egyptian men, though. An awful lot of them have forehead scars from praying too much. I know that sounds like a ridiculous stereotype, but wait till you see it.

Sigh. Israel might be more fun, though. You know how Orthodox boys get over the "thou shalt not lie with another man" judgment? They do it standing up.