March 2012: Better misery than malaise.

by maddrunkgenius

‘The sun will keep shining long after you stop seeing it. So smile; fix it on your face. Enjoy the warmth now before you go cold.’

——Oh my oh my what shakes the terrible awfuls give me, what jitters what aplomb

There was a member of a certain tribe who knew he was destined for greater things, but knew also everyone expected the same of him, and so was paralyzed by expectations beyond what he thought he could himself perform.

  • We all know we’re going to get old & die, or if not get old at least die, but can’t believe it till the belly sags & wrinkles show.

I guess
I guess I should have realized
That I was just too drunk to know better
And when I said,
‘I love you so much,’
I really meant
‘I’m so glad I’m cumming in you.’
And I guess I should have realized
That when I couldn’t let you in my door
Without taking your clothes off in 30 seconds
My definition of loves wasn’t the same as yours.
But I meant what I said
When I said, ‘I love you.’

There was this one time
She opened the door & I
Watched the sigh on her face
But couldn’t stand to leave it there
So as she dropped her purse
I swung my legs off the bed & joined her
We may have said, ‘Hello.’
But if we did, neither remembers it.
Her bra came off before our kiss ended
Her panties were off before we made it to the bed.
And I was hard in the pulsing explosive way
It hurt to keep a cock out of her
So we screwed & screwed & screwed.
Till sweat soaked into the sheets
Till joints and genitals ached
And we panted like smokers after the mile run
Until finally I said, ‘Oh, how was your day?’
And she replied,
‘Not so bad, all in all.’

——It’s really that moment when you wake up to other naked flesh and feel them hot & supple & inviting but not quite awake so you turn your fingers & tongue & cock to their pleasure.
——For when *you* wake to your nipples being tickled & neck being nibbled & inexplicably wet pussy getting fingered with a full-sprouted mushroom head dick trying to slip inside you, there is no capability of saying, ‘No,’ or ‘I have work in just a bit,’ or anything else but a moan & ‘please put it in me, God, I want you to cum inside me.’
——No one has ever awoken to pleasure and had the capacity of denying their own self ecstasy.

  • And we both agreed we were far too sore ever, especially in our nether regions, to have sex for an hour again.
  • Then the next day we had sex two hours & came but walked funny and grimaced.
  • ——I miss the sex our brains had, in other words, and my sometimes erect organ can spurt or dribble as as its wont otherwise so long as that mental fecundity is the case.
  • Oh how heavy is my face, full I mean, mostly of years & immoderation.
  • Oh how it sags! Weighed down by experience & knowledge it can’t be all it ought.
  • The wrinkles can be smoothed out, the pores filled even, and if I took a knife to the excesses, I bet I could cut loose the pockets of fat, even.
  • But the smooth-faced sometimes longhaired boy won’t ever be back — tho who should want him? Smartassed little prick.
  • We don’t ever get to be again, just more. And eventually not even that.
  • ——’One time I ate a baby.’
  • ——’Oh really?’
  • ——’That summer I spent in Thailand. They have everything there.’
  • ——’So it seems. How did it taste?’
  • ——’A bit like duck, but more more innocent. Or maybe it was the carrots. It came in a soup.’
  • ——’Hmm.’
  • ——’The parents were very charming, though. And thankful for the income. That cost almost as much as the rest of the trip.’
  • ——’You know, it’s illegal to travel overseas for the purposes of having sex with children.’
  • ——’That’s why I don’t fuck my soup.’
  • ——’Yes, but don’t they serve baby whole there?’
  • ——’I don’t think there’d be enough meat to bother with if you just served baby hole.’
  • ——’This is why you need Jesus in your life.’
  • ——’This is why I wish they served Communion every day. And that transubstantiation happened in the mouth rather than the belly.’
  • ——’And that you were Catholic.’
  • ——’Well right. That, too.’

I’m just so spinny you know is all.

I will pay higher taxes to make sure less bitches get knocked up.

Your marriage will never be included in the New York Times.
Unless you kill a lot of people, neither will your obituary.

Oh my, what a fuggle, life.

  • Oh the filthy dirty awful things a pretty girl in a dress inspires in my head.
  • ——’She is amazing and more than amazing; she is surprising.’
  • ‘Let us fly to the countries that are counterfeits of Death.’ Who know Baudelaire had been to West Texas?
  • ——O insatiable cock that still wants to drain blood from heart and brain to make my posture uncomfortable even when I know a rub will produce not dribble or mist but only cough dust.
  • ——O the things I want to fuck sloppy & constant till the skin tears off my dick in black dry flakes.
  • Hello, some new fresh pussy, would you like to be intoxicated and after a bad decision like bouncing your shorn cunt upon my pelvis?
  • Why indeed!

Who knew Africa could be successful with viral content.

I don’t need one more. But I’d like one two three more.

  • Life is a fascinating study in human irritability and boundless failure.

We should all be so lucky.

  •  I find myself feeling not guilty enough in the creeping thoughts that whisper, ‘He’d have been better off dying.’
  • It’s all sunshine, it’s nothing but sunshine.

I’m really going to have to find someone to help me shop for untorn clothes.

A man said to the universe, ‘Sir I exist,’ and a woman said, ‘Yes, but come back to bed & let’s forget the universe does for a while.’

  • ‘I see a lot of myself in you,’ I said.
  • ‘Not that much,’ she said.
  • ‘Just the tip then,’ I said.
  • ——’She was not a girl who could be “won” in the kinetic sense … She was entertained only by the gratification of her desires and by the direct exercise of her own charm.’
  • It’s times like these I realize I handle setbacks poorly — with the emphasis on that word one reserves for the final chamber of temple of the Grail.

Why the fuck is it
Every sweet girl I meet
Makes me think she wants love
And to go to dinner
And talk about life
And Romance
And things
But all she really wants
Is get naked in my bed
And finger
My asshole?

‘Sitting together on the couch, we were perfectly happy, tho it didnt last. We live for such moments, maybe because they’re fleeting.’

I tried to just go home and sleep on something soft. I really did.

Life is a fucking SCREAM.

‘He is now pushing 94. Everybody who ever hit him is dead.’

Please, or of course or my goddamn soul. What’s it worth now? A bucket of piss, I hope.
How sweet, shower of gold. I mean darling, wouldn’t you?

Oh when the house is full of empty but not quite empty red cups & your nose smells copper in your nostrils & some organ in your back aches faintly & you rub your head with a sideways smile wondering how everything happened as it did again — oh! how scarce & fleeting these days must be!

  • That herpes laden cunt, how I miss the foul smell & yeast infections.
  • Even when you apologize in advance for drunk texts, people can still get offended. Doesn’t seem quite fair, I mean, really. [Apr 2012]

Meanwhile I’m at a bar reaching the Times & drinking.
Say luh vee.

  •  Every fucking time I see someone dead or arrested in a news story and someone replies with a variation of ‘may GOD have mercy on their souls’ or ‘ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE BUT I HOPE U BURN IN HEL!!!’ or ‘Lifting you up in prayer into the holy arms of our dear lord Jesus Christ’ my mouth fills with the taste of bile and I realize I’m too fucking sober to be reading that shit
  • I hate when trite pop songs are poignant, but hate really that I notice & am bothered by something I enjoy. [Apr 2012]

——’I hate her,’ he said.
——But his companion replied, ‘You hate only the sour taste of what you can no longer sample firsthand with your tongue.’
——And he told his companion to go right ahead and fuck off.

  •  ‘I’m so tired. Between this and school, I’ve gotten like six hours of sleep in three days.’
  • ‘Oh wow. Where do you go, OC or UTPB?’
  • ‘Ha ha, I’m not in college. I go to Richard Milburn.’
  • His eyebrows leap to mid-forehead in spite of himself.
  • ‘No shit.’
  • ‘Excuse me sir, do you need any more coffee?’
  • ‘I’m fine, really.’ Sir. ‘So you said you’re taking care of brothers?’
  • ‘They’re all older but they aren’t working. Then I’m taking care of my fiance while he looks for a better job than what he had.’
  • ‘But you don’t have any kids of your own?’
  • ‘No.’ Thank Christ. ‘I hate children. I mean, I like them, I just don’t want–‘
  • ‘To not be able to hand them back to their parents.’
  • ‘Right.’
  • ‘Well, good luck with all that.’
  • And then she had three kids in five years.

A strange thing I have never understood & with increasing frequency think never will is why it is just fine to go to the bathroom to relieve one’s self of a need to piss or shit or blow one’s nose or sneeze or what not, but when you have a huge budding erection you must go to the urinal & take your middle finger into the crook of your thumb & flick the tip of your pecker as hard as you can to make that bothersome sign of vitality go away rather than jerk off for a few moments & you know milk the most precious & useless gland of man.

The truth is, I’ve never yet gotten up the nerve to rub one out in the workplace bathroom, tho often thought this is a stupid superstition. Bodily functions are bodily functions, aren’t they? And what squirts from one’s urethra in a moment of pleasure & relief is no more shameful than what is sent out from one’s bowels till choked off by that wrinkled stained hole, no?

Ah well. Some things WILL NOT CHANGE, & the cock is not to be used for pleasure in public except when one has a really good piss after a long wait.

(Women, I suppose, can rub their little pleasure dome as they see fit, wherever they like, & no one can stop them. You horrendous cunts, all.)

  • ——For that matter, as long as it’s consenting, two participants (or more) ought to be able to go someplace private & reasonably sterile & enjoy the fruits of one another’s pleasure any place, not just some bedroom somewhere.
  • ——Two persons of not dissimilar height can manage a good screw standing up. Clever persons of any size should be able to work something out. With a pulley system, if nothing else.
  • ——(I haven’t even mentioned a bathroom stall, notice.)
  • ——For reasons beyond my understanding HR no longer acknowledges my emails.

I hate her because: she makes me actually fucking bookmark long reads and read them.

  • He: And all she really wants to do, while you’re bookmarking these long reads, is get naked in your bed and finger your asshole.
  • Not even that, I’m afraid to say.
  • I know! Tragic.

Love is feeling your ever shrinking cock leak jism from the tip as warm inner walls continue to press upon it & squeeze the last bit from your balls to the soundtrack of sweaty moans & panting.

‘I’m terribly sorry.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘For being the way I am.’
‘Oh, don’t ever apologize for that. Even if you were some way else, you’d still be a shit-head.’

It’s OK to be vapid, but you’d damn well better be pretty if so.

Never thank someone until you know goddamned well what they’ve really  done.

‘Oh my! This whiskey tastes fantastic.’
‘Yes. And if you give me one more goddamn shot, I think I’ll let the toilet taste how great it is.’

  • He sat at the bar about five and a half moments staring at his phone before saying, ‘My daughter’s been in a car accident. I need to go the hospital.’
  • And everyone said, ‘Oh my God well go ahead and go.’
  • And a fellow next to him said, ‘Don’t worry; I’ve got your tab.’
  • And the man thank everyone and finished his beer, and got up and went to the hospital.
  • And I wept, saying, ‘Surely there goes a great man.’
  • ——The walls! The walls they get so small & crush upon me!

It really is the most wonderful
Feeling in the world to
Rest your navel upon the back’s small
And you resting on knees & knuckles
Upon bed floor or carseat
Push in flush till your mouth
Breathes hot in her ear & tongue
Curls about the lobe & in moany cadence
Says without saying, ‘I love you more than
Anything my brain can conjure now. ‘

But then the moment ends
Not in spurting mess
Or even God acknowledging contractions
But three months after when
The fertile fed love dies
And decays in putrescent splendor
And no one even wants to stay
Facebook friends

It’s really amazing, the things I’ve done.
People didn’t used to have stories to tell about me, you know. None at all. I was a fellow that talked a lot, and bullshitted.
Yet here I am today.

  • He: Scotch.
  • Any time you’d like to slip off the wagon & run ably about a bit, you know where I am.

‘What a sour-smelling scooped out womb,’ said the prince, unaware the maiden really was an old witch in disguise.
(But the joke was on him for she gave great head & faked all orgasms.)

The only true Philosophy is that life is short, art is long, people are fucked up & we so tiny & tragic in our inability to be always happy.

We never must settle, even to settle down. (Especially not then.)

There are so many ways I wanted to spend my Sunday evening in preference to how it was spent.

  • God damn it all & everything. [Apr 2012]

There’s other fish in the sea.
(And going to Thailand is like fishing with dynamite. )

  • In a man’s presence someone said, ‘I have proven the existence of God, indisputably’. The next morning the man said, ‘Last night the angels came down and blessed that man, saying: ‘Praise to God, he has proven our God. May God grant him long life. He has done no injury to mortals’.
  • ‘O little man, God is a given fact. His existence needs no logical proof. If you must do something, then prove that you yourself have some dignity and rank in His presence. Otherwise He exists without proof. Neither is there anything which does not celebrate His praise. Of this there is no doubt’.
  • (Truly God is great.)

‘I’m not an idiot.’
‘No , you’re just a damn fool!’
‘I have my liquor & I have my pride. Well, I have my liquor.’

  • ‘He denounced all sins except drinking, because he was drunk as often as possible.’

Better misery than malaise.

  • And yet! No alcohol had touched my lips in gosh a day is it? [Apr 2012]

There is so much pretty young flesh around. Oh! That I were a mosquito.

  • She: dude. creepy. chill.
  • If one day I become famous (for something) my Facebook statuses will be collected into a book titled ‘Blood, Cum & Bile: The Aphoristic Expulsions of a Committed Alcoholic.’ [Apr 2012]
  • I suppose it’s the deflation. There’s nothing left to exaggerate. What now to revolve around? [Apr 2012]