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liz's little sister sondra is liz done right. the recipe came together a bit better. liz too tall for my taste; sondra aspires to 5'6" in heels. liz build is similar to the starting two-guard for the new york liberty; Sondra's slim waist make her modest b-cups appear like basketballs. liz's complexion is freckled, her face round; sondra's is pale, milky, sunken-cheeked and sallow. sondra's smile is less gummy, but liz's personality is brighter. I don't want to sleep with either. I would fuck the result of an experiment fusing them together. science needs to catch up to my desires.
I want to kiss you on the mouth. I know I've just met you and haven't told you my name, but that's what I want to do. I see you're with friends and I think that guy you're sitting next to clenching his fist might be your boyfriend, but I'm an honest human being and I though my intentions were something you should know. regardless of the relationship between you and the very tall man holding on to my collar, would you like to? I promise it won't take long and hey, no strings attached, right? I'm good at it.
had a pretty vivid dream involving maggie last night. don't think I've dreamed of her since high school. not sure I ever dreamt of her at all. maybe I just always thought I did. large group at a campsite, around a bonfire, eating a meal at picnic tables, all of us strangers. or so we thought. took me a while to realise it was her. took her even longer. before introductions were made, I said, noticing her refusing a chicken dinner, "so, maggie, I see you've become a vegetarian in the past ten years. or was that something I forgot?"
she looked over. a look told me she was wondering how the person chain smoking Marlboro lights who didn't even get himself a plate wearing a three-quarter length cowboy trench coat with very good diction and glowing smile knew her. that's how I see myself in most dreams. even the ones where I'm fucking. especially the ones where I'm fucking. regardless, I smiled at her, knowing it'd take her a minute. she slid over to my end of the table. the light of recognition flicked in her eyes and, making a reference to my contemptuous lack of participation during grace,
she said, "so I see you've become an atheist in the past decade. or are you just trying to be different?" I was surprised she remembered me so well. or at least remembered me how I remember she remembered me. my memory makes demands on those I remember warmly remember me with matching esteem. we talked until the fire rose and the sun smoldered to dust. we talked about music and our mutual hatred of bright eyes. we differed on politics, but we brushed it off. we agreed since neither of us set governmental policy, it wasn't worth the breath.
a truly wonderful dream, for the most part. I do hate my subconscious as it sometimes acts like the mpaa and censors my fantasies down to a pg-13. we made love in this episode. I know we did. I remember it now, 20 hours later. the other campers asleep, we sat side by side. an awkward silence following a laugh bled into a kiss. a kiss forced us to face one another. I touched her face. she placed her hand on my chest. she took her clothes off and allowed mr to touch her breasts. I picked her up carefully.
I then gently fucked the shit out her on a picnic table. squirrels watched in fear, swallows sang and wolves howled as I banged her hard and fast. it was really very sweet. both connotations. I picture it now, but it I wasn't part of the dream. the censor of my slumber fast-forwarded this part and went straight to me waking in a sleeping bag in a clearing. by myself. she was gone. again. I found comfort in actually having slept with her this time around, though I never saw it. solace isn't good enough. solace doesn't fill lonesome holes.
I reached in my pocket and grabbed my phone. message light blinking. I listened. heard her voice. "it's been ten years and I'm glad we could catch up and correct a oversight we made way back when. I'm glad we're going to be friends. again" so was I. but with one exception. I hit reply. straight to voicemail. no reception in the woods. "I'm twenty-five. I'm done collecting friends. call me if this meant something." I hung up and fell back asleep. then I woke up. in my own bed, inside, far from expecting a warm body next to me.
she has a pretty face, marred ever so slightly by a crooked front tooth. when she smiles, she's coy and covers it with her tongue. her hair is thick and bouncy, like a pantene commercial. she full bottomed, some would say it's a deal breaker. to others, it's an invitation to gymnastics. as I question how her body got to be so out of proportion, a three-year old girl calling her mommy answers my query. the lines in her face become sharply defined as she tells her she can't have a snickers cause it'll ruin her dinner. that's deal breaker.
some say it's because it's run by mormons. others because the owners want to go back to simpler time in of business management. you've even heard they don't want to pay their employees a premium rate to work today. whatever the reason, you give not a shit. sometimes, after spending $200 on pair of worn jeans with carefully torn rips, you want a chicken sandwich. and wendy's won't do. you want the best. everyone in the food court could give you an excuse. it still won't change the fact that chik filla is not open on sunday. and you're hungry.
I hate sunday because it bleeds into monday. I like cool, crisp autumn afternoons when it's around 59 degrees because I know winter's coming. I hate warm, sunny spring afternoons when it's around 59 degrees because I know summer's coming. I liked you better when you were sad. It was so much simpler when you had no focus and life seemed to be surviving one minor tragedy after the other. I had no idea you would hate so me for wanting to be with you. there's no where to go but up except of course you're destination is the basement.
"Leave a message."
"I hate you. I know right now you're sleeping snuggly while I have images of corpses and slaughtered elk running through my head. Are you happy? Are you happy?"
It's not my fault that autopsy show looked completely fake to me. I blame the media. I blame nintendo. I blame the food network. blood now looks just like chocolate syrup to me. I blame the butcher at Super-Fresh because a chopped up body looks exactly like a delicious pot roast. I blame America for saying no to anything sexual on tv and yes yes yes to violence.
my mother and I work at the same company. it's one thing for the guy or girl you wouldn't talk to in any other social setting to vent, but hearing my mom do it breaks my heart. she walked by my desk today and told me how bored she is with the job and wants to quit. I don't want her to be sad. it sets me off about how I shouldn't be at this place. I spent the morning searching for jobs, sapping my will to do my job. which kept piling up. bad day. rain didn't help either.
my neighbors grow gingko trees. stink-berry bushes. asian olfactory terrorism. they make soup from the fruit. I have no problem catching a whiff from outside. last night, they were draining the pots where they keep the trees. the residual waste smells of rancid milk. not a problem, as long as it's outside. but some got in here through a crack in the wall adjoining their house. I have a puddle of smell juice in basement. not a problem, as long as it's not mixed with other foul odors. did I mention I live with four cats? I am king stink.
I've been doing some soul searching recently. I have a dead-end job. I have a degree in journalism that I don't intend on using. I need to go back to school and I thought of law. I've considered going part-time, getting loans, all that bullshit. I think I may have to move back in with my parent's, go full time and take up a night job. don't know if that's what I want. could try to write something awesome and forget everything. I second guess myself too much to be awesome, let alone write that way. I wanna be awesome.
the dmv can go eat pee-pee. changing your driver's license address does not change you vehicle registration address. so you don't get to renew it cause the renewal forms go to your old address. you call to have your address changed. you renew online. they still don't change the address. they send to your old house. you know the guy who live in your old house. he says he'll call you if anything comes. you call him. nothing from the dmv, but "dude, you've got jury duty." it came last month. for last month. you're a felon. there's a warrant
for your arrest. but the police don't know where you live. you're not in jail. but you have no registration sticker on your car. you drive over you friend's house to comb through his mail. you get pulled over for having no sticker. the cop gives you $300 ticket. notices you have a warrant. you're under arrest. mom and dad won't bail you out. because of last time with raid on the asian massage parlor. you spend the night in jail peeing your pants. you're accessed a thousand dollar fine. you pay $200 to get your car out of impound.
you call the dmv. you have to go an auto tags place. they say they'll be able give you your sticker for a notary fee. you call them. you have to pay again for renewal. you have to get an application for a refund. you have to get it from the dmv. they send it to your old address. you ride your bike to your friend's. in the rain. your friend doesn't have the application. someone steals your bike while you're inside. you walk home. in the rain. you get a renewal application for your driver's license. which is suspended.
My recently married friend was telling me about married life. For them, it's different than others. Their house in jersey is still being built. In the meantime, they're living with her dad. Anyway, he spends little time at the house. He works, goes to the gym and then usually stops by his parent's house to pick up his mail, eat dinner, have his mom do his laundry and play with his dog. He's 27. he's been at the new place other than to sleep five times. Once just to watch a porn cause he knew no one would be home.
would you rather have every woman you meet want on sight or be able to read minds?
well, if you could read minds you could figure out what females wanted you, so I'll take that.
but you wouldn't have to figure anything out, all of them would want you.
even the ugly ones?
yeah, I guess.
so then I can choose who I want if I can read minds.
but what if you really want one and you read her mind and she thinks you're strug.
then I don't want that one.
what if it's maggie?
dammit, that's not fair.
the theme of this years party will be hip-hop-aween. please come dressed as your favorite hip-hop superstar. if you can't think of one, just come looking as "urban" as you can. be it thug, bohemian or track suits and gold chains, it's all hip-hop baby. you don't have to spend too much bread to be hip-hop this year. there's a sale on sean john at macy's and you can get a 5x black tee-shirt a walmart for $4. we will only be drinking the finest cristal or the worst colt 45. there will be no charge for bitches/hoes. $5, playa.
as I read from the book of st atheist the faithful, the only apostle to account for his witnessing the resurrection as a rather unpleasant side effect of eating spoiled cherries, I came to ponder the meaning of belief. if I believe something, it's true. to me. so if someone presents me with something contradictory, should I believe them? then what about my belief? is it not longer true. or is this guy just trying to make believe a lie. then there it was, the answer. atheist said if one shall present something you don't believe, kick him in the pee-pee.
she has hips just like an angel
perfect straight black hair
makes me wonder what it's like
to wear her underwear
she doesn't have a steady job
but she's always in couture
talks shit with a french accent
mincing words without manure
she'll wrap you round her finger
and sleep with all your friends
she'll make you think you're happy
there'll be nothing to pretend
there's no one but me here
so there's no need to lie
she'll be the one that ends you
but you'd be damned not try
she has what you want, none that you need.
that was worst bar in Europe. say what you will about the French, they don't drink right. no binging here. five euros a pint. christ, what time is it. eleven on a Saturday. and that guy is puking. jesus christ it smells. looks like this care has no puke. least I caught the last metro back to the hostel. five more stops. that is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. what book is that? I want to talk to her. I need to talk to her. if ever there was a need to speak French it's now.
it's that scent of two former lovers who can't stand to be in the same room. why did I invite them. well, I know I didn't invite him. and I know why I wanted her here. no one who wants to sleep with her would want him around. but I did tell tony. he told reen. and there he is. he'll sit there and stare all night. watching her every step, every laugh, just to see if she's lost a step. he interupt any attempts to talk to her with "I need to talk to you." I'm gonna punch his balls.
go ahead, with you motives and dreams. I don't need you to speak English anymore. you should see yourself in that dress. there's nothing wrong with being the queen of the universe as long you know you're not the queen of the universe. I've a lot to say to you but you wouldn't understand much of it because you've his tongue in your ear. I would find it nice to feel what it means to be your hair. no need to be hostile, but if I need to tie you up and burn you, I will make you love me.
I know there out there. the ugly people. looking at me with their ugly eyes. where do all ugly people, you say? surely there not born, but made? babies aren't ugly, you say? horse doody. I see ugly babies all the time. they have ugly parents. I know cause I live next door to ugly people. he looks like he's always taking a crap. she has no chin and a harelip. and little jonnie looks like popeye. they just sit in the house, revealing in their hideousness. I think they're up to something. I should call the police on them.
I stick my finger in my ear just to make sure I don't have any ear potatoes. when I was younger, I used to have a lot of wax. I think I cost me friends at school. I used to fall out during social studies class in big orangey chunks. I wouldn't notice, but whoever happened to be sitting in the direction of which ever ear sure did. when I became conscious of this, I started using pencils or paper clips to dig my ears out. then I ruptured my ear drum. don't do that anymore. I just eat boogers.
if you move towards the wall a bit, I'll be able to see your undies. I wonder where you went to grade school. what were you like when your were 16? would we have gotten along or would I've hated you? your underwear matches your eyes. you giggle matches my expectation. what book are you reading? is it good or are you just slogging your way through? is it for a class, you own enjoyment or your hopes that someone will come up and ask, "what are you reading?" just like I want to? just like he is right now?
I ate too much today. most sundays I watch football at my friend's house. he has a 52 inch plasma screen. there's always way too much food. steak, pork, burgers, dogs, eventual vomitous. he calls that feeling the meat sweats. or the cheese sweats if we're eating pizza. we ate all of the above today. sundays usually end with everyone taking part in this neo-roman clash lying near comatose on the couch, debating about what movie to put in and who's gonna put in in.
I hate trick-or-treaters. this may qualify me as an old man, but it ain't like it used to be. they come out too early, when the sun is out. the costumes are lame. there's never a group of fifth graders coming to your door. they must think the whole thing's gay by that age. but you do have 16 year old black kids begging. they don't even wear a costume. just jeans, a tee shirt and a pillow case. most of the little bastards this year kept asking for two pieces of candy, as if their harry potter garb is so effing original. I hate them all. next year it's candy apples and razor blades.
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