February 2012: Thankfully, sobriety is only a transitory state.
I suppose it’s OK to want things you can’t have so long as you don’t want them very badly. Or have alcohol.
——God, he’s eating girls out in the bathroom. Again.
- I honestly was put on this earth to do three things: write, drink and eat pussy.
- Occasionally I write about eating pussy while I’m drunk.
I love the salty taste
Of a woman’s ecstasy &
The siren’s song of
Her pleasure as
Her hair tangles
From her sweat
And the pillow
At the back of her head.
——I wish to move out of state if only to have an excuse to ask a friend to send to me her deleted number & call her late, but not so late I am obviously drunk, and say, I think I’ll probably never see you again & I’d like to one more time. I’ll drive five hours or nine but when is good for you?
——And if that doesn’t work & she says That was long ago & the good times were not worth the hangover, I don’t know exactly what I’ll do with myself but I pray to god it happens in another area code.
——I need an elsewhere occupation. I need someone to replace me here.
I am no doubt still very bitter about her. But I haven’t any right to be & my pettiness is worse a flaw than any she has.
There was a time when I’d fuck anything with two legs.
But then I thought:
Why limit myself?
I really just want to be held close & loved. I mean, don’t you know, or can’t you tell?
——I don’t know that anything there is is worth knowing or can be known.
——But I do love sensory perception & what info it gives us or makes us think we have.
——Life is glorious. No better than not-life but different & more precious for it’s shorter & less common.
So what we get drunk, so what we don’t sleep. Living young & wild & chemically dependent.
How perfect! Life, in its many varied disappointments.
I have come to the realization marriage is not in the cards for me.
Neither is 40.
Tonight was better than anticipation would have led one to bet on.
(There’s safety in numbers.)
- Marvelous, marvelous holy book that fills its pages with so many glorious sentences.
- ——Thank God He don’t exist.
- ‘What’s an eternity of damnation compared to an infinity of pleasure in a single moment?’
- ——’Yeah, but Bukowski wrote poetry about it.’
——”Are you disappointed with the idea that when you die, you just cease to exist?”
——”A little. But the good news is that when it happens, I won’t have any disappointments at all. I look forward to such days in my more melancholic moments.”
——”Don’t be a faggot.”
GodDAMN it. I hate it when my cock drips yellow pus.
It’s times like these I realize what an obnoxious asshole I can be.
Thankfully, sobriety is only a transitory state.
- I guess the point is, no matter how many times I say I’m sorry, I don’t really mean I’d do anything different, and don’t even mean I’m sorry. [Mar 2012]
It really really is terrible how much I enjoy her. Horrible, I mean, actually.
- One day some people came to the master and asked: How can you be happy in a world of such impermanence, where you cannot protect your loved ones from harm, illness or death? The master held up a glass and said: Someone gave me this glass; It holds my water admirably and it glistens in the sunlight. I touch it and it rings! One day the wind may blow it off the shelf, or my elbow may knock it from the table. I know this glass is already broken, so I enjoy it — incredibly. – Achaan Chah Subato
- Funny, I do my best to behave as though I’ve been horribly crippled in a car accident already.
That moment when you’re in the shower, putting back together pieces of last night when you say, ‘Well at least I didnt-‘ then you realize, ‘Oh my god, I *did*’
- It is a common thing, foilable or folly, or some other version of the same French root, for me to lavish attention upon a woman and not really intend it but end up saying, ‘Gosh, that’s interesting. Would you like to cum tonight?’
- And I mean it as innocently as a thing like that can mean. But all I really mean is: Who wants to fall asleep alone, and who wants to falls asleep next to someone they know they have to sleep with the night after?
- Then again, I hate when they leave mid-night. Or morning. But likely it’s because I rouse them with my farting, and don’t arouse them with it. [Mar 2012]
Does not not going to sleep drunk count if you’re not going to sleep? I wonder.
- I’m being told yes, but not for much.
- Yeah, but here’s the thing, tho: I don’t give a FUCK.