January 2012: What stringy wonderful flesh that fills & exceeds libido’s imagination

by maddrunkgenius

DARLING I eat FIRE — or rather drink it — & it burns down my throat into my belly but sets alight my mind with all explosive primal yen.

  • ‘I need to focus on me a bit.’
  • ‘Sure! I can totally focus on you for like 39 minutes or an hour or whatever.’
  • ‘That’s not what I meant.’
  • ‘Well I wish you wouldn’t mislead me so.’
  • ——’But I love you!’
  • ——’Only when you’re drunk. Or horny.’
  • ——’Isn’t that redundant?’
  • ——’I suppose.’
  •  ‘I swear I’ll always love you!’
  • ‘You have to sober up eventually.’
  • ‘Never!’
  • ——’Don’t you sleep?’
  • ——’Well, sometimes. I mean, not every night. But most days, sure.’
  • ‘You’re so hot.’
  • ‘You just told my daughter the same thing.’
  • ‘That she was hot or you were? Because I’m not into incest or whatever, but I definitely wouldn’t turn it down.’ [Feb 2012]

What stringy wonderful flesh that fills & exceeds libido’s imagination.

  • There’s a million billion darling people, real & imagined. Or did you think you were the only one? Or didn’t you know?
  • ——’Screaming stupid undirected calamitous feeling creeping into the falling-off-the-bone-flesh rotted away by the krokodil — Lord! if only the desomorphine were cooked more pure!
  • ——’Where is a Walter White (pbuh) when you need him?

Please don’t forget to wipe your feet.

The strangest thing about my life, I think, is I remember sexual escapades by what was going on in the news at the time.

[‘Why do some people crave alcohol?‘ via WashingtonPost.com]:

  • “In all 25, drinking alcohol triggered the release of endorphins — chemical neurotransmitters that, when they bind to certain receptors in the brain, induce feelings of pleasure. For all subjects, the more endorphins that were released in  the pleasure-promoting part of the brain called the nucleus accumbens, the more pleasure the subjects reported feeling.
  • “But for the heavy drinkers only, the more endorphins released in the brain area called the orbitofrontal cortex, which is associated with reward processing, the more intoxicated they reported feeling. That phenomenon did not occur among the non-heavy drinkers.”

[Re: Vital Signs: Binge Drinking Prevalence, Frequency, and Intensity Among Adults — United States, 2010] And then I remember that when they say, ‘drinks,’ they mean ‘beer,’ not ‘glasses of whiskey.’

Misogyny ferments by the same process that sours high-hanging grapes under a fox’s stare.

  • I want her terribly, I think only because of her age.
  • ——The world, really, is just a silly stupid place.
  • I knew a woman to whom an abortion was like an appendectomy. The fetus was an inflamed appendix, or unwanted tonsils.
  • Remarkable woman, Madeline.
  • ——’Darling, my cock would love to wear your labia for a coat, for a while.’
  •  I already told you; there’s nothing to it. [Mar 2012]

I feel jealousy. I don’t know how this is possible. It was there one second then I was hollowed out again. (Comfortably.)
Fuck yearning for the lemons in the orchards of others.

‘But I’m already in bed.’
‘Great! That’s just where I wanted to meet you.’
‘I have to be up early.’
‘Dont worry; I’ll keep you awake.’
‘I have a vibrator.”My tongue is ELECTRIC.
And warm. And wet.’
‘But my toy is battery powered.’
‘You make a good point.’

Call it an epiphany. Life wants only to continue in a certain direction. & this is enough for satisfaction.

I am somehow capable of being maudlin & sentimental of fingering a woman in the bum with my pinkie while two fingers slip into her vagina & cause natural lubrication to leak down to her asshole. 
(Somehow.)

‘The universe doesn’t care whether I live or die.’
‘I’m not the universe.’

  • I wonder often if Christ ever existed, at least as we understand him. I doubt it, tho I believe fervently in his existence.
  • But the idea we have is better then any we might have hope for.
  • ——I hope all of the mothers of my children either abort our progeny or thank me for having nothing to do with their lives & that of our children. 
    ——Squirt, squirt, hose, pump, pump, dump in the trash.
  • Young women on that precipice — still — we call ‘girl,’ have an almost off putting habit of losing themselves quickly to alcohol & begging practically to be raped, because you know by morning they won’t remember at all how they came to be naked the night before & will assume themselves to blame for being a whore.
  • But their skin is still something holy, rolling across bone & muscle like a wave perpetual upon a shore. You must love the sight of this, feel of this, taste & smell of this.
  • You are a vampire, along with Time. And you both drain them of this vitality ever-so inevitably.

People don’t understand: I don’t want her number for times exactly like these. I would text her unnecessary things that benefit nothing except my own id.

  • I drunk text as an extension of my own narcissism

——Today I met an architect.
——He could design anything but couldn’t keep his life together.
——He left the bar in his suit after eight or nine, wearing a motorcycle helmet. He’d lost his job again & was heading back to Maryland.
——Someone said he was great to have around — and talented — but he a lush. So this always happened. He was 43 now but had once had promise; sober might still.
——A fellow asked if I’d ever met him before. I said no, but I knew him, and finished my drink.

Goddamned pretty young flesh, supple warm and brown. It smells of shy power, new & unfamiliar — but welcome. Nervous anticipation & coy naivete. Just wrapping fingers through the leash now in hand, not realizing the cage of sharp & hungry stares.

  • You know the truth & I mean the goddamned revealed truth is that in 100 years no one will know your name except through genealogy.
  • Which is comforting because I mean:
  • What are you worried about now?
  • The universe will not take notice of your existence or passing. But you are not the universe, so enjoy it.

——Reading ‘Rabbit, Run’ I realize I can’t figure out why he never got a revolver & pulled the hammer back then tickled the trigger.

  • Pretty brown flesh & the taste of salt. Quiet but for breathing; the moaning is over & the naked chest rises not in passion or expectation but only recline. There’s no lust in the nipples left; I should turn the heater up.
  • The TV is blue & so is the living room but I can see the whiskey is golden. Still.
  • This is important.

‘Isnt it about time you
Learned to shut your fucking mouth?’
I said smiling & pleasant not really realizing
How much of an asshole I was being.
She looked shocked & then angry & then I
Finished my drink & held up two fingers
As I caught the waitresses’ eye.
‘Really we ought to just fuck,’ I said
‘And get it over with.’
‘You’re drunk,’ she said as a fifth
Double was placed in front of me.
‘I’m drinking,’ I admitted.
‘And if you were, too, getting you in bed,’
‘Would be a lot easier.’

‘Yeah, but bro, you’ve passed the point where it’s understandable, sad, and finally annoying. It’s like clinically pathetic now.’
‘It’s OK; they all take the pronoun to mean their own self. So most people don’t realize I actually mean——.’
‘No. They do. Everyone does.’
‘Really?’
‘Everyone. Well, everyone who cares. So no one, I guess.’
‘Every piano wire has its silver lining.’
‘You’ve used that one before.’
‘That’s what she said.’
‘No. She didn’t.’
‘…’

I won the fight & spilled the whiskey. Thereby I lost the war.

‘My nipples are so hot, you could fry an egg on them.’

  • He: Ha! ..You do make really good eggs.
  • S1: he does make good eggs
  • S2:  Yes he does wink;)

“Bitches want what they cannot have, and once they have it they get bored of it.”

  • H1: Bitches ain’t shit.
  • H2: They ain’t even bitches.
  • Women aren’t people. They’re women.

“All our excess energies seem pulled to oilfields, bars, & precocious motherhood, rather than creativity. “