September 2011: We mustn’t feel bad about the things we don’t feel bad about

by maddrunkgenius

‘Hey, don’t I know you?’ I asked.
‘I don’t think so. Where from?’ she said.
‘That party the other day. You were at that guy’s party.’
‘Whose party?’
‘Mike Hunt.’
‘You have a vagina? Or was that a pickup line.’
‘I don’t even know anymore.’

Huntress! Go to hell & stop invading the folds of my gray matter in happy moments.

  • I [illegible] her too goddamn much I suppose

Oh well. I suppose I expected it.

  • He: Then don’t be surprised!
  • I’m never surprised by disappointment. Of course.

[Re: Babes at the Museum] Rubbing one out with the pinky out, yessir.

Oh, but there’s going to be a *wedding*.

She ate it with chopsticks (& gusto).

The Moon is distant, but I’m capricious.

  • Sleep, the seductress. But exhaustion is Spanish Fly.

——So, I went to an after party with a lady friend consisting of a pimply but otherwise attractive young woman & two older, overweight guys, plus ourselves.
——Pimply girl & silver-haired old guy disappeared to a bedroom. Obese motherfucker started puking. And the ice-blue-eyed husky licked it up.
——We left. Abruptly.
——Cool husky tho. Pissed when it saw us & we pet her.

It’s the tangled mass of hair.

  • ‘She despises you, you know.’
  • Yes, I know.

I do so love blondes.

  • She doesn’t know the half of it. And I know I can’t tell her.
  • Alas. I told one person & She used it against me. Which I think I expected, but the knife still managed to slip in between my shoulder blades, somehow.

With any luck, I mean.

God help me; myself, I cannot.

  •  Goddamn it I’m not Charles Bukowski. I’m just a horny drunk with a pen & self-loathing & thesaurus

I still can’t believe the two spectacular hand jobs I got today.  It’s like my carpal tunnel is almost gone. [Massage joke]

——And the tiny prince said, ‘It’s a shame you never got pregnant. I’d always hoped, but never said.’
——And she, haughty & bitter, laughed, ‘I’m glad: You’d have eaten the children.’
——But she only said it to make him cry.

  •  The prince was Saturn, for those were the days Caelus reigned yet, and retained testicles.
  • Truly it was a golden age.

The Christ says:
‘To love the spirit is worthy,
‘To love the flesh divine.’

But the Devil says:
‘To love the spirit is worthy,
‘To love the flesh, divine.’

  •  I suppose what it really was a puncturing of a fantastic balloon of What Might Have Been that I wanted, if not to cling to, at least be able to look up at from time to time. You know what I mean. That little encouragement and cheering up in the sight of a thing that might allow claim it wasn’t all fatally flawed. Things could have been different, and better.
  • But, no, really I’d have done worse not better given more time and chance.
  • Really I rarely surprise myself, and then it’s just at the things that give me shudder.

We mustn’t feel bad about the things we don’t feel bad about.

When the Christ called Jesus first saw the naked whore, stripped & ravaged in the dirt, he felt both incomparable lust & immeasurable pity. For he was both fully God & fully man.

It’s OK; no one is getting stabbed tonite. What then is all this foolishness? My God! What awful idiocy!
I seek to punish myself tonite.

Oh Sin City, oh marvelous collective inebriation & exuberance that makes the whole scene sway & grind & live as one.
God Bless the drunken collective unconscious! God bless the Christ spirit in us all, yearning to love & be loved!

  • I’m in love with giant writhing masses of people.

Sigh.
Ack! the ebb; I feel it.

‘And yet.’
How preferable, the Land Without.