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 ingĂ©nues 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.