Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Christ on the Cross

Dude...I'm so over everything right now. I know I know...I've hit a rough patch. Freaking bite me. 
And why is it that every time all hell breaks loose in my life, the first thing to go is my goddamned 
MP3 player  is the first thing to go? Last time, it got ran over by a bus. This time it got swiped from the teacher's
lounge at the school I'm working at. I won't even go into 'the man' being on my ass. 

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Thursday, September 14, 2006

What the hell is beta?

My mind has been wracked with other shit as of late, but I recently had a very interesting experience. While I was visiting a nameless ex in DC, she had opened up about her issues with food. I went with her to an over eaters anonymous meeting. I totally lied about my own situation, I totally felt like that guy from Fight Club. Anyways, it was pretty heavy shit. But also deeply amazing. Hell, I think I even fell in love. Like this one woman was pure Virginian beauty. Like all dark hair, dark eyes, sleepy lids, and a generally sensuous vibe. Jesus...anyway, participating in these folks discrete lives was so...precious. Their struggle isn't one to be envied. I love every one of those folks. Some were poetic. Some sad. Others had the manic energy of a broken hearted child. I won't forget that anytime soon.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Bush and the Twinkies

I so trying to avoid this moment. My 911 moment. Really I wasn't even there. I was back in Austin. I had left NY a week before. It was bad enough that while I lived in NYC I had never been able to make out the Towers. Like July 4th on the roof of my east village sublet, I could not see those fucking things. Then a month later I feel like I'm whipping my neck around half way across the country to witness my generations horror. As always on the periphery. And for once, seeing what a blessing it can be sometimes. What a shitty way to kick off a century. And this goddamned so called president. Now I know how I would have felt during the Reagan era. You are not a leader of a nation, you're a prince on a puppet. Nothing about you rings true. I may be bloated and sick off of your apple sauce and crushed pears also known as the shit you're cramming down my throat every fucking day, every where I go, everytime I look into another poor bastard's eyes, but I can still call bullshit! Those people deserve justice. Step down. Prostrate yourself at the feet of WE the people and beg us to spare you. Shame on you Bush and your whole freaking complicit ass family. Your peeps did business with the Nazis and you did business with Bin Laden. SHAME! SHAME! Traitorous shame!

Your filth will come out in the wash, it always does. You had just better hope that you and your ilk are dead and buried lest you suffer the blistering vilification that will forever blacken the names of Bush, Chaney, Rumsfeld, Bin Laden, and Murdoch. I personally, hope that I see your supposed legacy crumble in my lifetime.

I am angry. I am angry that this is the world that has been left to me. Screw the conjecture and the conspiracies. I smell a motherfucking rat and now the rest of America does too. But can America part with some parts of American life? Like would it be so bad if we all gave up our cars, designed our cities on a human scale, ate better, worked less, engaged more, and had some good ol' fashioned private time with America? Got to know one another again?

I mean I feel so estranged from the rest of America culturally, but I know I'm not. I'm as American as you can get. En plus, I'm from Texas. But my values set me apart. What are your values, would be a very valid logical next question. I couldn't tell you in succint or even articulate way. I just KNOW. It has alot to do with not acting (or not acting) out of fear.

Have no fear of fear. --Charles Bukowski

Fear is the mind killer. --That dude from Arrakis othewise known as Dune.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Goddammit I'm double dog pissed..

I'm fucking pissed at this city. I'm pissed at the lack of intimacy. No hanging out.No house parties. No affection. Nothing but cheap damaged goods and usurpers. I'm over naming names on this fucking blog but suffice it to say this chick has showed her ass with me for the last time. Don't fuck with history. Enough about that individual. First, let me say that it feels good to be writing again. I just got off of whacking at my Olivetti. Something of interest came to the surface. There is no doubt in my mind that I liken this city to a cold sexy bitch that I love and desire. I wrote a very maudlin story about her. I may as well make the story about new york. As it stands the story is way too close to the truth. There's no real drama or tension. It was all a very one sided love thing. *wicked grin* But she is single again. Yes, that curly headed ice queen is single. I'm nothing if not tenacious. Anyway, New York is a fucking icy bitch and I love it. I'm hot for that very kind of woman in the flesh. And yet in both instances --the city and the women -- are both worth every brutish impression of their spike heel on my chest. It's a good hurt, but I need intimacy. For the last month or so I've have had that with with two very intense people in my life. They burn brighter than most, and having them in my life makes settling too bitter a pill to swallow. And that's what my life in this town feels like right now, a goddamned spoonful of codliver oil. What am I gonna do? I keep growling to myself, Render unto Cesar that which is Cesar's! But what the fuck does Cesar want? That little piece of the plan hasn't been sussed out just yet. I'm also nothing if not a little anxious. Is it KK? I mean here we are almost 8 years later and it's still sinfully delicious between us. And for once, the whole damn thing (this past weekend) was a great time. We both enjoy the quiet. There is enough action between us that everything else is just kind of whatever. Then there's the other one who shall go nameless who is the one, but ain't. She's my litmus test for all the rest. I think it's pretty hilarious that the I'm referring two don't get along even though they've only met twice. Whatever. Basically, I miss real people in my life. I miss the quiet of real life. New York isn't real to me. I'm only invested to a point. I wonder if it's getting to be time for me to leave this town. KK would be a fantastic reason especially if we're not in America. Don't get ahead of yourself. Or maybe ...traveling is solo...or you're destined to be solo...or solo no matter what is always apart of the equation, and everything I've thought up until this point has been based on a goddamned flight of fancy. Damn all of the works of Harold Robbins, Judith Krantz, Jackie Collins, Sidney Sheldon, Pauline Réage, Zalman King, Richard Linklater, and the entire writing stable of Bantam's Loveswept division to hell on a snot rocket! I'm an emotionally numb salivating pervert with delusions of genius and not pot to piss in because of these people! I kid you not. I remember reading somewhere that Margaret Atwood said something like boys grow up on porn and girls on romance novels. And the meeting of these two expectation is devestating for both. I think. Hell. I don't know I'm stoned. Anyway, welcome to my freaking world. That sentiment completely encapsulates what I'm feeling these days. I've got this insane narrative in my head,but I don't have a leading lady. I guess that's where all this is going. I really want to be deeply committed to someone or something. Maybe both maybe one, but not the other. But none of the above is not an option! Yes. There is the seat of my anger.

Then I take a breath. And then I think to myself. Ve. Shut up. Because when your time comes you'll be freaking out and on top of that you'll happily always try to be on your p's and q's. Christ, how soon is now? Morrissey hit it on the head.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Budweiser...the King of Beers

I didn't get the memo. New York is about fem on fem. Who freaking knew. If I had only paid closer attention. I hate makeup. I mean I'll wear it if I'm feeling frisky, but not as like a daily fucking ritual. Good Christ.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Party In Pants

I lost my last fucking post. So annoying. So I was talking about how I was flirting with a straight friend of a friend. I think it was the haircut. There'd something a foot before, but on. well as game on as game on can be with a straight girl hot for big black thug dick. I understand precisely the nature of her lust cause I'm the same way but on the flip side. What's more there's this other thing. We both had big hot love affairs when we were young and now we've been looking for the next hottest thing since. Ah if only...if only I was a dude or she was into pussy. Now I'm just left to savor those little moments. God where are the gay girls like you? The ones who ride motorbikes, worry about whose lookin' at her ass and tits, the ones who've got bad tempers and sweet smiles...where are you?

the summer has been moving along at a nice clip. last night i tried to bunny hop on a friend's bmx and totally ate shit. it was awesome. all of clinton hill was having a laugh at my expense. Speaking of bike riding, I've been going everywhere on my peugeot. It's hard but fun. En plus, I think I impressed said straight hottie with how fast I got to the bar.

Katie is coming to visit in like 2 weeks. It's going to take that long to clean that fucking apartment. I also want to move out of that place. I need to start putting some feelers out. Like something has got to give. I feel like living with people will keep me honest as far as the cleanliness is next to godliness thing is concerned.

It is so fucking hot, I think I'm a gonna die.

Monday, June 12, 2006

A title revisited

It's official the crazy Russian can rot in the very bowels of hell! This weekend was totally lame. It was partly my fault. I shouldn't have told a mutual friend we were going to be hanging out, because it doubled the time it took for me to get to her, and my friend is dating her ex. did she say as much? of course not. anyway, I knew it would take work to make the most of the day. I tried not to brood about my stupidity. she didn't help matters. so we all end up having lunch. things are going fine for the most part. we're all chipper and chatting. I take a phone call from Gina in nz. that call runs a bit long since my girl is calling from nz. anyway, I come back to the table and we keep talking. then we get onto the subject of my lack of love life. more specifically we get to talking about my approach. I tell friend 1 that women practically throw panties in her face. she's just got that something I say. half jokingly I say maybe it's coz' I’m a dread locked black chick with broad shoulders. and friend 1 is like's coz there is this ferocity about you. I’m harmless she says. then that crazy Russian twat chimes in with or maybe it's coz your corner girls in the bathroom. when she put that shit into the air I quietly freaked out. how dare she! she not but Wednesday sent me one her cryptic missives totally acknowledging that she's attracted to me. and I motherfucking quote:

Like playing in a sandbox and then four square and then there is the
attraction to you that will always persist, but you are a Leo and I a Taurus
and that is why persisting verging on existing.

I totally understand that this thing between has nowhere to go except to bed. Literally and figuratively. but seriously, I get it but what I don't get is why she felt like she could say some mean spirited shit like that? this isn't one her stupid wannabe cute misunderstandings. as far as I’m concerned she pulled that stunt with malicious intent. we basically had a very public discussion about shit she's never had the balls to discuss in private

needless to say my goddamned pride weekend was kind of ruined. the worst night of sleep in my life. I was and am so disgusted. the next morning I realized that disgust was what was coursing through me all the night before.

god does she make me seethe...I fucking hate seething...all it means when it's coupled with an intense attraction is that if the other party didn't have their head up their could be very hot and heavy action without all the emotional shite. we could just be two vicious animals slaking the blood lust for a few weeks. dumb ass birds.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Oh God...

So...I'm about to see myself on TV as in the fully edited version of my 15 minutes of fame. This could be so ugly. Like I might want to hurl myself off of something after this. Part of me is like I can't believe I ever agreed to do this...and another part of me is completely indifferent...god this is going to be so horrifying.

So I bought a book on punctuation. I'm excited. I think I just heard another one of the subjects yelp. That can't be good. So anyways about this book on punctuation. I'm excited, I hope it will prove to be helpful. I really want to write and I want to make sure I'm doing it right -- whatever that means.

The job is a big damn headache these days. What else is new on that tip. I spent way too much money on some cool ass Nike dunks. I don't even rock Nike, but I took exception to these.

Monday, May 01, 2006


Ok, so I'm feeling a little bit better, but kind of stressed about this coming Saturday. That's all I want to say about that. My work out this morning was good. Great in fact. Climbing the fence was a challenge, but cool. You're certainly not going to get that sort of thing in a gym. God, this place got packed quick. I wished the neurotic Russian happy birthday via text. she called back immediately. i hate it when she does that. It just made going to bed that much more difficult. Across the street is a Tower Records. There are a shit ton of nuts waiting for the midnight sale of Pearl Jam tickets. Who knew. So it looks like people are beginning to see my face on LOGO for the TV show. That's cool. Julie Jo sent me an email on my space. Sweet. Talk about one who got away. Well...I never really was butch enough for her tastes. I should go home and clean the apartamento once and for all.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

I'm in a killin' mood

I just started the rag today. That would explain my foul mood....kind of. I'm over the corporate lite gig. Like who the fuck knew working for a non-profit was so full of shit. I think I am also over NY a bit. Ah I don't know...I'm suffering from the worst sort of the ides of march are done right? Even the on set of spring has felt strange. It's felt like I never thought I'd see spring again. It is my first spring with Lasik. Does that mean anything? I'm still terminally single, except this time around I've got dumb coozes proposing majorly unsexy things like being fucking on camera just so that person and their 'real' lover can watch. What the fuck kind of 21st century bvd duty shit is that?? Like the more I think about the proposition the more angry I get at NY and my life in NYC. I need something a little fucking richer than that. I know I'm a sweet ass good lookin woman and i'm kind of over playing second fiddle to casual sex and people thinking i'm wierd because i'm intense and sincere. What is with the goddamn gospel music at the internet cafe...I have really got to go.

Monday, March 27, 2006

Fuckin Hell

I fucking lost my wallet again. Fucking again. And yes that new bank card my mom sent me was in there. Fucking bullshit. Like I was hoping today would make up for a crappy ass weekend, but just proved to be the icing on the motherfucking cake. I'm trying to be optimistic, but easier said than done when I'm trying to pull myself out of a kind of major depression. Like for the last few months all I do when i get home is undress and lay on the couch. Sometimes working out helps but only for a bit. I had a good cry over it on sunday. Like I thought I had this shit beat. For the last year or so I've been really good. But's definately taken a turn for the worse. That was a rather sobering realization. This morning was such fucking bullshit. Goddamned ghetto ass cab drivers. Some fucking dickhead was trying to charge me 40 bucks to get to Thompkins Square Park. That sorry son of a bitch can rot! I told him as much. God knows where that fucking thing is...I've been calling police precints all day. Christ on the fucking cross...

Friday, March 24, 2006

Friday, March 17, 2006

Oh Mumsy...

God Mom said she'd send me her bank card. I mean I can see her reticence, but I've got 21.46 to live on for the next two weeks. She can't possibly let her daughter live like this. I am however completely and totally paid up with the rentski, but I still am going to have to show my face in court. Lesson learned, I'll pay my rent on time forever more.

As for the Russian...things are infinitately better, but only because I made a choice for it to be that way. I feel very proud of myself in that regard. Like I chose not to sit in shit. Does it mean I find her any less annoying or syrupy...not really, but I'm willing to be decent if only for my poor bruised knuckles.

I'm re-reading the Magus. I do that everytime I'm feeling like I want to get the fuck out of dodge.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006


I'm so gutwrenched, but I have to be harsh with myself. She's a fuckin' faker. Her sincerity means shit. You have got to remember that.

Monday, March 13, 2006

What in the holy fuck??

Ok so I just read this article about HIV research. HIV might not cause AIDS. Profilic toxicity might be the cause in CONJUCTION with HIV. Like if you snort 15 rails of Tina off of Pablo's, Manolo's, Steve's, and Jared's ass over the course of an evening say for 3 years and fuck like a bunny with no jimmy that is your ass! Quite literally. It makes me rethink my willy nilly attitude toward drug use. Really how I treat my body in general. I always jokes about being orca fat but I"m not havin that shit...yes. Capoeira kicked my ass this morning. I should go my time is almost up. I have to go to the bank and send the man some money. I think I"m turnin' over honey.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Fuckin' Freaks

Stupid girl. Stupid Verushka. Maybe Margarita is right. I am bored. I made myself miserable Saturday night behind that woman. And fucking Catty Shack was not helping. What a cheese dick scene. They played a track from the Grease soundtrack. Fucking Grease. I paid 5 fucking dollars to drink over priced shit and Grease. I am NEVER setting foot in that place again. On a lighter note my workout was good this morning even though I was totally late, because I was bummin' over this girl. And mind you...mind you! All of it means nothing...there is nothing...her cryptic love of platonic intensity can fuckin' blow me. I already went through that shit in college. Hello...does anyone remember Cory? Or that summer with Katie? Atleast they were deserving. But this one...what of my tender feelings for her. She doesn't give a shit. You should have seen the hug she gave me at the end of the night. Total bullshit one armed pussy nonsense. Fuck her I say! I am taking that anonymous poster's advice and saying bete pa la carajo! contra mujer!

Ok so an hour or so ago some random asshole wanted to use my computer. He just wanted to check his email for a few minutes. I was nice, but on the inside I was like motherfucker do you see the times we're living in? Are you fuckin CIA or what?

I'm getting a bit of a headache. I better split. I no I have got no conviction when it comes to the crazy russian, but I will try again this week to retreat.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Holy Crap in a Pita

I am so disgusted right now. My food was delivered gross and soggy. My site may or may not be working. I should be there already as it stands. Fucking bullshit.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

When am I going to be a blog of note!?

416-7274...the sexiest phone number ever. I have no idea what is going on with that neurotic russian. Either way I'm wrapped around her finger. The other night she told me that in certain circles she's known as flipper. Not flipper the dolphin but flipper as in she flips tops. I can see it...kinda...she's got little hands. All in all it was a very nice cab ride. There is one part of her life that i"m not into and that's this hangin' out with the ex thing. But's not my life. We're hardly friends. I can go on. But I won't.

So rent is uber 2 months late. I forgot to file my state taxes and willfully threw away my w2 forms. I am so sick of this paperwork thing with american life. Goddamn it. I want out. I don't know what I want these days but paperwork is not it. And yet I"m applying to the Peace corps...more motherfucking paperwork. But then 2 years in the hinterlands of the world with a goat named pablo as my only friend. That's the dream.

You know who the neurotic russian reminds of save for the filthy sex...Kern. I say this because I get the same tension in my person if I don't see her or talk to her just like I did with kern. Granted with Kern my sanity would be stretched to the very limits if I didn't get to see her, but it's kind of the same with this one only invariably much more managable. I can't deny that I adore the girl. I also can't deny that she's not especially deserving of my chivalrous ways, but what can one do? You adore who you adore.

The other night on the train some woman complimented me on my toggle coat. I was like thanks and then went back to talking shop with ol' girl. When we got off the train, she was all ..."You're so aloof...that woman went out of her way to compliment you and all you could offer was a curt thank you." I was like..."Who gives a shit if I'm not attracted to her."
Harsh. I know, but I was annoyed. I wanted to be like..."Dammit's you that I adore. I only want to talk to you."

Alas...I'm a chicken shit read...sensible.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Login Code

She flaked. I was incredibly disappointed.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Oh the humanity...

Global warming is here people. The veep in a drunken haze shot one of his old ass cronies. This administration is ridiculous. Like ha ha funny...then kind of curl up in a ball and cry funny. I spent 27 on porn yesterday. that's good coz on x-mas i spent 100. I should go home next year. More later...I gotta bail...

Monday, February 13, 2006

On and on and on

I'm torn. I won't toss the l word around, but something is afoot in my person. Simply put I adore her. I'm alternately beaming or morose at getting to know such an incredible soul. I understand her on an intrinsic level. Why isn't friendship good enough for you? Is this more of the predatory wanting a challenge bullshit? I hope not. I want to take time and get to know this person. I'm enjoying it immensely. We talk. We really talk. She says that people fall in love with the idea of her. I can see that. I can also see right through that. She's judgemental about pot. Damn. Pot never did anything to anybody. We're suppose to hang out again this weekend. I can't wait.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

I know you think I'm kind of strange

I loved looking at Stella, but really you could insert any name here. Jen. Monica. Lucy. Ramona. Whatever. I’m a slave to a pretty face animated by sublimated desire. This time her name was Stella. And instead of being an olive toned red head or an ex stripper cum people of color revolutionary she was an icy blonde WASP stylee. The guttural and sublime lust is always there like a low grade fever. I was convinced that Stella was going to be my first real love thrill in this town. Those few times our eyes met or I got a whiff of her perfume, I could feel it all. I was astrally projecting into our love making. That first velvety tentative but hungry kiss. I could feel the shape of her teardrop breasts against my back – the tangle of our legs. I could feel it all. Her face made me ache for a broken heart. So much so, that one night I did just that. I looked at her and broke the fucker.
It was Halloween night. I was killing time at insert yet another jive ass dyke bar. I was supposed to be dressed as the lost member of P Funk, but I was feeling like a jerk in a jerk off suit on a jerk off night. I could feel it in the air, I knew I was going to see Stella. Knowing all the while that she’d be with the Yeti. All night I kept looking over my shoulder. My stomach was in knots. I wanted to see her face so badly, but at the same time I wanted to systematically smash every glass I could get my hands on. I didn’t want any surprises. I wanted to see her first.
I go to the bathroom, and then it happens. Our eyes meet in the mirror.
Every word that would have or should have ever been spoken between us -- I don’t really know – flashed through my being in a confused whirring whisper. I was devastated by the implications, and felt the full scope of my impotency. My love of chipping away at such icy countenances was permanently on the wane. Who gave a shit about her ersatz serenity? She shrouded the seething mind, a shuddering orgasm, and her most vicious cruel bits behind a bright-eyed smile that didn’t quite reach.
I should have left, but I couldn’t. I was a wounded animal pacing back and forth in a cage, wishing and hoping for a reason to pounce. Ignoring and being ignored. Finally, mercifully, she left. It freed me to leave. I ran.
I ran, but I couldn’t get away from that night. I couldn’t get away from myself. I stopped running, out of breath, and feeling incredibly ridiculous. Maybe Maya was I right. I do live my life as though it were an art house foreign film. Who else takes off running from the club in a petulant fit of lust and jealousy except for kohl eyed ingénues radiating cinematic mojo?
Eventually I end up at my favorite west side spot. I may have made a ruination of those last few hours, but all would be forgiven once the discreet doors of Apt. closed behind me. Divine Providence wasn’t having that shit. Apt. was charging a cover and had a guest list. Those motherfucks.
So there I was cold, drunk, and drug free. Sitting there on that bench amplified the loneliness of unrequited love. All I had left was my metro card, my golden bag of Bali Shag tobacco, and a book of matches. I walked over to the 14th street bus stop. This night was done. This jerk off in her jerk off suit was going home to her jerk off house. I didn’t even have it in me to scream. I just crumpled into a heap of sadness and started crying. I was heartbroken. Unable to turn to myself because I was broke my own fucking heart. I didn’t know why I was taken with Stella I just was. I could have sworn I was in love with Stella and that was what those tears were about. But really it was all me. I wasn’t in love with Stella. I wanted her because I love a good chase. I was crying because I still suck at love even though I want it so badly.
While I’m in the middle of this shit storm of bad thoughts, I look up to see this striking woman in a magenta chick Caesar style wig and frumpy overcoat walking toward me.
“Could I trouble you for one of your cigarettes?” the woman said with a slight accent.
The cold and the dark had sobered me up. I wiped away my tears.
“It’s a hand rolled smoke. Is that ok?”
“Could you roll it for me?”
For a second there we didn’t speak. It was a surprisingly companionable silence. I really don’t remember how it started but I confessed my whole night to her. I didn’t just relay the events, I gave her all the shit behind the scene. She saw the sadness and the quivering in my soul. She’d seen me truly naked. And she was kind. We sat there as bus after bus passed talking about love and existence. One of the best conversations I ever had, but what’s more we shared this unutterably true human moment. Her name was Livia, and her words were salve on my heart. Her soul was a life line that night. I’ll never see her again.
“We’re all alone, you know. Love it or leave it. Give yourself all the love you possess”, she told me as we finally parted ways at dawn.
We did the ritual cell phone exchange, but it was a superfluous gesture. She was a city nymph that had gifted me with her soul. As far as I’m concerned she receded into the tawny ether of the morning as soon I turned toward Union Square. Our moment out there in the undisciplined night was just that. A whole moment.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Oh good christ

Still besotted...en plus guess who I saw out Saturday night? Yes, that hot icy blond minx from a year ago. She's still seeing cheesy lesbian #7. I also psycho ex stripper cum revoluntionary. Remember?? The one who called me a good girl because I don't hate white people. Oddly enough, I felt alright. I did get a little tense...ok very tense but I handled it pretty well. I would like to keep on writing but it's getting late. All I have to say is that blondie doesn't look good with straight hair. Now my little nymph says she has no secrets. Fucking bullshit. But atleast she was here by herself saturday night. You are a fucking headcase. I love it, but I don't know if the rest of the world does. So much crap to do tomorrow. Christ on the cross...she's bringing saltines. Hurumph. Nutter...right here.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Back at the scene of the crime

So I am back at the internet cafe where I may or may not have lost my wallet. I can't tell you what a pain in the ass this is. My mom pretty much bitched me out for losing her debit card. I can totally understand that. Me and my aunt Marta use that card. Marta is in Panama. The reason why I lost that shit was because I was in a seriously crappy head space. Mind you, it hadn't been a bad day. Up until that point the only blemish on the day had been that someone had stolen my metrocard on site. Everything else was still intact. Then I had a little post site r&r with some co-workers. I still hadn't dealt with the 'blemish' and then jealousy reared it's ugly head in my soul and that compounded things exponentially. I wasn't thinking straight and left my wallet somewhere. I know better than to let that shit get the best of me, but Saturday night it did. When I realized that my wallet lost I seized up inside. It took me two days for my muscles to relax. What a wretched feeling.

The next day I get a text msg saying: watching now your gift

Yes, it was from the woman in question. Frankly, I was like you my good woman were at the crux of that secret seething fit of rage. You get no part of this day. This is a day of mourning. I can't tell you what a relief that part was. I just shook her and her chicanery off. As far as I'm concerned subject verb agreement equals a pleasant platonic something....the lack of said agreement tells me something else is afoot and it may or may not be just a literary pretentiousness or it could be the want of something more...either way that lovely little nymph can blow me. Be the machine. There is more to life than chasing after masochists.

You're the only person I can say this to...after I work out...I am always kind of horny. I'm pretty confident that isn't something I could say to my instructor.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Hot little Morrocan

When are you gonna get caught doin' a little sucky sucky in the matrimonial quarters?? This is such a marriage of convenience. Come much is he paying you?? Is it worth it--to lay next to such a beauty knowing his ass will never put out? I'm just pissed. He is an incompetant barrista. I must say though I do love this coffee shop. Like it totally reminds me of Austin.

So I've been lovin' my Olivetti and the lomos. I gotta figure out a way to keep this capoeira thing going. I fucking love this shit. It makes me feel great! Great and horny! Who frickin' knew that workin' out had such plusses! Yeah something's gotta give.

I feel like my life is on the general up swing. I'm just feeling good. Even this insufferable crush is manageable and kind of fun, provided of course I don't brood too much. I am a very jealous soul. I think she senses that and kind likes it. Part of me wants to...never mind it doesn't translate that well.

Slow and steady wins the race, yes? Christ.

So can we talk about that delicious creature Samer for a moment. Goddamn it is he beautiful or what? Not just beautiful erotic too. Watching him with his lover this weekend was yummy. His need to be wrapped in the arms of such a man was palpable and maddening. More than once they caught me staring.

God, this barrista is such a little bitch. He's trying to close this shit early and is turning away business with his slinky ass actions. Nobody gives a shit about that ass in those jeans, you little sack. Arggh...

I'm gonna eat me some Pakistani food after this.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

I ain't eitha...

I should be cleaning up my desk, but I don't fucking feel like it. I don't know how people pull off full days of office work. Good christ. I think I've just rediscovered the most intoxicating and mysterious smell from my childhood in my hair. It's in my hair right now. I wonder oil the hairdresser used on my head. So my eyesight is getting better every day. It's really wild to think that I'll never need glasses the way I did when I was younger or uh...3 months ago. Existential revelation...hardly, but very fucking cool. I want to blow a wad of cash, but I don't know on what. I hate that feeling. So I saw this documentary about 'private security' contractors in Iraq being serious pains in the ass. But what's more...this private contractor business is also doing a shit ton of logistical work for the food...the crappers...the beds...this is what happens when you let a bunch suits take over. You mother fucks.

The Olivetti is back in action. It's so much fun typing on that thing. It makes me feel like a real writer. I've even been writing bad poetry about the one who shall remain nameless.

Friday, January 13, 2006


I frickin' hate the lesbitron nation. Good christ. I was rockin' this outfit last night that put out a number of gentleman's eyes and yet...and yet...the cold. I scored this new camera from the TV show. I took some photos with it over the weekend. Only 10 came out and they kind of suck but I'm puttin them up anyway because it was such a good day. An amazing day in fact. I was so happy. I am still that happy there's just no sunshine right now.

This woman...I can't name names, but I'm still taken by her. And she's taken by her memories and her heartache. What are you gonna do? People have been telling me as of late that I have walls up and that's why I'm terminally single with a tendency to go for the insufferably unavailable. I'd say this current object of desire falls into that category. Would it have mattered if I had met her first? She is a Taurus and I'm a Leo after all. There was like a 55% chance at a successful relationship according to the astrologers at, and these people have never been wrong.

Alright I gotta bail. I've got like my pre date interview for the TV show. This one hour developing thing is pretty cheap. The color splash lomo is looking like a winner. I also got a pop 9. That's gonna rock.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Here's to the long slow road

Oh good christ it's been too long! Happy New Year. I'm still toiling away in gainful employment land. It's cool. I still love my job. You know what I wish I didn't love? A certain person that writes in an obscure pseudo poetic way. Some might say that it's an issue of subject verb agreement, but I say it's style. I built a book shelf over the holiday.

Friday, January 06, 2006