Monday, March 06, 2006
Another 'nother bullshit night in suck city |4:21 AM| I can never read the book with the title "Another Bullshit Night in Suck City", as it could never live up to the name. Just like "The Dead Hate the Living" blew its load with the title.
When you last saw him pictured, Wonderlust was undergoing a mud dwelling savage related moment. The picture of him urinating in public, head lolling back as if it was missing a couple of important bones, right by a major road did not come out very well, sadly.
This shit is being mentally written in a coffee bar that Lust and I have stopped into so he can write some emails. I'm sitting here with dick all to do, which is fair, as I trapped him at a film related situation when he could have been purchasing whores or jerking off into cups or who knows what else. Right now I'm chewing off a hangnail and wishing there was more to watch on the street. Inside, at least, there are women who look like trouble. Dames, broads, skirts, they pass by. It has been agreed that this chick is a skirt.
Due to peer pressure, I wrote a marriage proposal myself to an old friend. Thing is, this woman hated marriage so goddamn much that I'm pretty sure I won't hear from her for at least 6 months now. The girl in question hated commitment like a fruit fly, she dumped me at least 5, perhaps 7 times. So, when you read this, darling girlfriend, don't worry.
I want comment that during this whole weekend, my gal, my main squeeze has been the nicest XX chromosome owner a guy could ask for. With all the talk of marriage, 'lust was pressuring me to lock her down, because I'm really not going to find a better girl. While he has some good, very good points on the matter, I'm sticking with the plan she and I agreed upon.
He did it again, just a few hours ago. Wonderlust, he proposed to a woman, a good friend of his. My relathionship to this woman is a corpse buried in the past, but from what I know of her I think they'd make a nice couple. Especially when they hit the sunset era, the rocking chair on a porch, viewing the daisies with lemonade years. He told me his pitch, his line, the string of words that might have expressed ideas. It's a good speech, a fine collection of convincing ideas.
The answer was a foregone conclusion, a tortured negative by his account, but Lust still seeks to bring down his personal house of Usher. He'd knock the retaining clip from a steamshovel bucket of rocks if it said "Marry SG? Pull rope."
I admire his resolve.
He did deliver a message or two for me. Whether or not he remembered to apologize on my behalf for the sins against America's Dairyland is really moot.
After email time was over, we hit the road, and listed off old flames. A few. 'lust compared one of mine to a monkey with cymbals, that could just make attention gathering noise. I defended myself by pointing out I wasn't hung up on her, all these years later, that I had just been dazzled a bit at the time. He has earlier commented on that friendship being a good and stabilizing force for that past tense girl. It's not like we were being huge dicks or anything. He did say my head was full of silt and gravel when I biffed the gate code a couple times, though, and it's been ages since I have been so insulted. My word, the nerve.
That brings us to now. I did want to write it down, before I forgot, that I told 'lust about a time in which I nearly chewed open the veins in my arms as to unleash them, to gather my life's blood into my belly so that I could project forth both bile and my needed humors into the eyes of a man, but stayed from this course of action because of a dame. The same dame he was trying to marry.
Another 'nother bullshit night in suck city |4:21 AM| I can never read the book with the title "Another Bullshit Night in Suck City", as it could never live up to the name. Just like "The Dead Hate the Living" blew its load with the title.
When you last saw him pictured, Wonderlust was undergoing a mud dwelling savage related moment. The picture of him urinating in public, head lolling back as if it was missing a couple of important bones, right by a major road did not come out very well, sadly.
This shit is being mentally written in a coffee bar that Lust and I have stopped into so he can write some emails. I'm sitting here with dick all to do, which is fair, as I trapped him at a film related situation when he could have been purchasing whores or jerking off into cups or who knows what else. Right now I'm chewing off a hangnail and wishing there was more to watch on the street. Inside, at least, there are women who look like trouble. Dames, broads, skirts, they pass by. It has been agreed that this chick is a skirt.
Due to peer pressure, I wrote a marriage proposal myself to an old friend. Thing is, this woman hated marriage so goddamn much that I'm pretty sure I won't hear from her for at least 6 months now. The girl in question hated commitment like a fruit fly, she dumped me at least 5, perhaps 7 times. So, when you read this, darling girlfriend, don't worry.
I want comment that during this whole weekend, my gal, my main squeeze has been the nicest XX chromosome owner a guy could ask for. With all the talk of marriage, 'lust was pressuring me to lock her down, because I'm really not going to find a better girl. While he has some good, very good points on the matter, I'm sticking with the plan she and I agreed upon.
He did it again, just a few hours ago. Wonderlust, he proposed to a woman, a good friend of his. My relathionship to this woman is a corpse buried in the past, but from what I know of her I think they'd make a nice couple. Especially when they hit the sunset era, the rocking chair on a porch, viewing the daisies with lemonade years. He told me his pitch, his line, the string of words that might have expressed ideas. It's a good speech, a fine collection of convincing ideas.
The answer was a foregone conclusion, a tortured negative by his account, but Lust still seeks to bring down his personal house of Usher. He'd knock the retaining clip from a steamshovel bucket of rocks if it said "Marry SG? Pull rope."
I admire his resolve.
He did deliver a message or two for me. Whether or not he remembered to apologize on my behalf for the sins against America's Dairyland is really moot.
After email time was over, we hit the road, and listed off old flames. A few. 'lust compared one of mine to a monkey with cymbals, that could just make attention gathering noise. I defended myself by pointing out I wasn't hung up on her, all these years later, that I had just been dazzled a bit at the time. He has earlier commented on that friendship being a good and stabilizing force for that past tense girl. It's not like we were being huge dicks or anything. He did say my head was full of silt and gravel when I biffed the gate code a couple times, though, and it's been ages since I have been so insulted. My word, the nerve.
That brings us to now. I did want to write it down, before I forgot, that I told 'lust about a time in which I nearly chewed open the veins in my arms as to unleash them, to gather my life's blood into my belly so that I could project forth both bile and my needed humors into the eyes of a man, but stayed from this course of action because of a dame. The same dame he was trying to marry.
Labels: Pictures, Wonderlust
4 Comments:
Dear sir,
I am adding your blog to my reader's list. I like your style.
Cas
By 
, at
8:57 AM
just say no to crazy.
By , at
9:00 PM
I am well pleased about your continued usage of 'America's Dairyland.' At least, I assume that's one of mine.
Indeed, that was your doing.
I am still sorry for my sins, but like I said, it's moot.
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