June 2012: I can’t think of much worse than waking up at 30 regretting nothing I’ve done and everything I haven’t.
I’m all along and going with the flow you know, I mean I just keep heading where the sloshing takes me, but it keeps taking to the same goddamned handful of places, and I have to ask, what kind of bullshit is that?
Whoever said we were better off dead didn’t realize there’s no better or worse about being dead. It’s just not being anything.
I mean, ain’t it?
- ——She: Tis, maybe. But there are other places to go before then. So many.
- ——There’s every which way but up. And then cancer.
- ——She: Yep, but no point in rotting before you have to. Whenever it is that ‘have to’ shows up.
- ——The rot gut sorta comes on its own, tho, don’t it?
- ——She: Doesn’t everything if you just wait long enough?
‘I just want to meet a good woman.’
‘Who wears a dress with no panties.’
‘And then I want to fuck her.’
‘But eat her pussy for an hour first.’
‘Of course. You’re a gentleman.’
——I think it’s sort of like some fellows were arguing about what was in the next room over, and one said, “It’s an elephant. I know it’s an elephant.” And the other fellow said, “No, no. It’s a zebra or something.”
——Then they got into the next room at some point and there was a box on the floor about 10 feet by 10 feet and the first fellow said, “Obviously it’s an elephant.” And the second fellow said, “No, you damn idiot, it’s a zebra.” And in time they opened up the box and it actually contained a 3 feet by 3 feet box. And the first fellow said, “Well look, there’s an elephant there.” And the second one said, “OK, it’s not a zebra. But I don’t know what’s in there now. It may not be anything at all.”
——”So you’re admitting you don’t know what it is!” the first fellow crows. “And obviously I know it’s an elephant and have known it’s an elephant the whole time so your opinion is irrelevant.”
——When in fact conviction is no substitute for evidence or reason, flawed as both may be. (Because people are certain of a grand many varied stupid things.)
How fat is everyone, droopy and wrinkled and cellulite or whatever.
But then I have such a round face and my belly turns out and I cough and cough and cough for no goddamned reason these days.
As long as my dick slides into something warm and wet, I can’t complain. Which is sad, in its own way. But a lot less sad than chastity, I have to say.
I don’t know what I’m afraid of, really. I can’t think of much worse than waking up at 30 regretting nothing I’ve done and everything I haven’t.
I swear he’s a magician.
I’m exhausted & sore
- A thousand! A million! A dozen or so really good ideas bubbling, bursting, clamoring to be heard & not a single one of them actually worthwhile or worth hearing or doing a damn thing about.
- Or, I mean, why not?
- —— I just want to make people happy. Everyone, all of them, all the time.
- ——Or rather, orgasmic.
I want to eat something. And then I want to get some food.
I’m no longer at home; merely put upon by past acquaintances.
Oh the places you will go.
- I am a man of wealth and taste.