December 2010: It was worth it / But of course, it does all even out in the end.
County Road 271 is a good road.
‘The good news is we’ve found a cure for AIDS. The bad news is, it’s death.’
- Her: After the weekend you had, please don’t talk about AIDS.
- What I do in airports’ men’s bathroom stalls with or without proper latex barriers is my own private business and I don’t appreciate you talking about it.
‘I tried to pick her up and accidentally grabbed her vagina. … I’m sorry I grabbed your vagina. And kissed your ear.’
[@MadDrunkGenius] is sleeping on the floor beside the heater as substitute for the flesh warmed by capillaries. Yea, ’tis such unfulfilling methadone.
- I need to move until my throat tastes of copper. I need to run until I feel the full body orgasm of painful exertion that sends me coughing crying dripping snot and phlegm on the ground.
- Grah Grah Grah. I lost the good idea.
Ho ho, threading the Friday night reel thru again and again finding many frames missing, some scattered on the floor’s brain to be picked up later, some (esp. the tail end) gone completely, never to be found except in someone else’s cranium theater or perhaps, frighteningly, someone’s camera.
To warm flesh and good friends.
Too much excitement to sleep. I mean, Christmas is near.
No matter what I do, nothing gets done. I know, I know, a chasing after the wind, but I haven’t seen enough under the sun.
Haw haw, the angel was 17 (of course) and home schooled and flew by the power of her big ears which were so cute.
- It’s the same whether you’re young or old, the 4 a.m. delirium knows no limit.
- There’s no more, tummy dummy, this is the end, the termination of all things that might one day be wonderful. So quit stretching out the impossible longer, he advises, and just do the hard thing at an easier time.
- But the continuance is so goddamned jolly, like St. Nicholas eating a candy cane and being tickled throughout his belly. Santa Claus will still be tired in court, not for beating the snot-nosed brats on his lap but for getting aroused, which as we all know, is more the sin.
- Merry Christmas, and let us commemorate the virgin birth of our risen Lord.
‘It looked as if a civil war were raging in the Muscovite state, but a peculiar civil war, for the attackers met no resistance.’
Please forgive my torni-ness which pulls me from this place to that hereafter where the changing of the rocks below and clouds above causes the peasants to starve.
- What the hell does this even mean? And I wonder if I meant ‘clanging of the rocks’. It’s something to do with heaven and hell, maybe.
Egh, the Long Island Tea (iced) & the peppermint liqueur & the frangelico pseudo chocolate makes the night well enough but it will get better I swear.
It was worth it.
- I don’t thinking.
- ——Yes, Kerrect, Kerrville, land of screaming beautiful agony, excessive indulgence of carnal pleasure, the rape of rapture.
- ——In the land of old people, deer & the safe little Japanese cars that bring the former two together, in that land two youthful passions collide just as spectacularly with force, vigor & sound. (Oh, mmm).
- ——Now in that most dimmest afterglow the aftereffect is made noticeable, the burning pain of exertion, friction & the overactive flesh smashing of folk who approach even tender moments with the determined gusto of a blackout drunk awarded five bottles of free Bourbon.
- Home-grown but the gown was ruined by the prom queen’s dripping gout & her groans as the goat licked her toe.
- ….The impatient yellow spoon ran to the gold house to hide away but was found out by its lack weight….
- ‘Go on,’ shouted the evergreen to the tinsel as he watched her carried off. ‘Go to your attic & then to hell.’
- But the tree was several weeks already cut for dying & destined to burning as trash with the rest of the wrapping paper.
- ——’It’s all going to be OK,’ she said but admitted she didn’t believe it now, only believed she would later.
- ——Her brain perhaps had not recovered from it’s near-drowning in endorphins earlier. ‘But I can’t yes,’ she protested as her grey matter bobbed just above pleasure’s high-water mark, & gurgled.
- Speak clearly & carry a sharp stick.
- ——….I leave my hair behind as a trail-marker to find my joy again….
- I hope it doesn’t all even out in the end. If it does, I hope I’m not around for it.
- ——The koi fish met a brave dog & swam away when the furry one came near. But the faithful Fido only wanted to play & give Ms. Fish a kiss. Finally she told him she was in a common-law marriage with Mr. Toad.
- ——Fido showed his teeth to smile, and when he again found Mr. Toad he took the slimy brown gentleman in his grin & broke every amphibious bone Ms. Fish’s mate had.
- But of course, it does all even out in the end. [Dec 2011]
Sexy but lacking seasons.
I made my new year’s resolution to give up drinking in 2010.