Part 666
Soundtrack: Frank Zappa / Dirty Love
Firstly, I lock the door.
********
In the past two years I have tried many different sexual combinations, aside from playing Doodle Fencing with another strapping young specimen of maleness such as [not] myself. It's not that I'm adverse to it in the throes and burnings of the moment. I'm pretty sure I get about as worked up as anyone can, and in those moments, I'll grab whatever's going...It's just, girl's make better noises, as far as I'm concerned. More mmmmm than argh. I like that. And they smell like sweet surrender. Not sweat suspenders. Different some.
********
On the boat, legs are steady but as soon as you hit land, on come the wobbles.
And that is so fucking familiar now. Steady, fall, repeat.
Maybe now with extra yawn.
But on the boat is best so I stay there. Laughing and closing my mind to the real world.
I cook, I drink, I read, I laugh, I love.
Read that sentence again. Carefully. Because that sentence is my dream. Forever.
********
A while ago, maybe two years or so, I was outside, at a party, on cocaine. [I think I'll ride home to see if I can...but different] I was with a girl, we were talking about threesomes, two boys and a girl. Cocaine style. Eyes flashing with dirty promise as each sentence was laid out. A boy joined us by the fire and we kept our secret topic to ourselves, but when he got up and left to get a drink I said:
Would you do it with me and him?
Nervous reply survey says: Yes.
I didn't think about it. I got up, walked into the kitchen, found the guy, offered him some cocaine and said:
We've been talking about threesomes out there by the fire. Want to come have one with us?
He did.
We did.
Sort of.
Cocaine has its ups and downs, and this isn't THAT sort of blog. Yet.
********
I cook, I drink, I read, I laugh, I love.
Read that sentence again. Carefully. Because that sentence is my dream. Forever.
I'd like to think someone shares that with me.
********
Another time I went to a party and seriously there were people fucking right in front of me. I'd had a quarter of a pill and so had the girl I was with. We were, almost aroused. Is that a state? Almost aroused. She said:
Come into the other room, I want to suck your cock.
I did, except all we could do was laugh and laugh and laugh. Well, after a little while anyway, but I'm not going into that.
We laughed and laughed, and you know what?
More than hiding in a corner fucking like mad, that fucking laughter was the most intimate thing we could have done. I've never felt so close to another human being in my life as how I felt toward that girl right then.
********
I'm back on land now, and I've got the fucking boat legs bad. The ground beneath me is shaky. But this time, I let the feeling come. I let my legs shake and the ground split open if it has to.
I realise, I don't have the fucking power to change shit, to make the earth stand still, so rather than give a flying fuck about falling into some abyss, I'm going to dive in and find out what the fuck is hiding in the dark.
Maybe I'll pop out somewhere. Which reminds mne of another story, but this ain't that sort of blog.
Firstly, I lock the door.
********
In the past two years I have tried many different sexual combinations, aside from playing Doodle Fencing with another strapping young specimen of maleness such as [not] myself. It's not that I'm adverse to it in the throes and burnings of the moment. I'm pretty sure I get about as worked up as anyone can, and in those moments, I'll grab whatever's going...It's just, girl's make better noises, as far as I'm concerned. More mmmmm than argh. I like that. And they smell like sweet surrender. Not sweat suspenders. Different some.
********
On the boat, legs are steady but as soon as you hit land, on come the wobbles.
And that is so fucking familiar now. Steady, fall, repeat.
Maybe now with extra yawn.
But on the boat is best so I stay there. Laughing and closing my mind to the real world.
I cook, I drink, I read, I laugh, I love.
Read that sentence again. Carefully. Because that sentence is my dream. Forever.
********
A while ago, maybe two years or so, I was outside, at a party, on cocaine. [I think I'll ride home to see if I can...but different] I was with a girl, we were talking about threesomes, two boys and a girl. Cocaine style. Eyes flashing with dirty promise as each sentence was laid out. A boy joined us by the fire and we kept our secret topic to ourselves, but when he got up and left to get a drink I said:
Would you do it with me and him?
Nervous reply survey says: Yes.
I didn't think about it. I got up, walked into the kitchen, found the guy, offered him some cocaine and said:
We've been talking about threesomes out there by the fire. Want to come have one with us?
He did.
We did.
Sort of.
Cocaine has its ups and downs, and this isn't THAT sort of blog. Yet.
********
I cook, I drink, I read, I laugh, I love.
Read that sentence again. Carefully. Because that sentence is my dream. Forever.
I'd like to think someone shares that with me.
********
Another time I went to a party and seriously there were people fucking right in front of me. I'd had a quarter of a pill and so had the girl I was with. We were, almost aroused. Is that a state? Almost aroused. She said:
Come into the other room, I want to suck your cock.
I did, except all we could do was laugh and laugh and laugh. Well, after a little while anyway, but I'm not going into that.
We laughed and laughed, and you know what?
More than hiding in a corner fucking like mad, that fucking laughter was the most intimate thing we could have done. I've never felt so close to another human being in my life as how I felt toward that girl right then.
********
I'm back on land now, and I've got the fucking boat legs bad. The ground beneath me is shaky. But this time, I let the feeling come. I let my legs shake and the ground split open if it has to.
I realise, I don't have the fucking power to change shit, to make the earth stand still, so rather than give a flying fuck about falling into some abyss, I'm going to dive in and find out what the fuck is hiding in the dark.
Maybe I'll pop out somewhere. Which reminds mne of another story, but this ain't that sort of blog.
posted by Sherriff at 5:13 PM
3 Comments:
Hi. Dear Hotel Tijuana Manager. I am writing to complain about the the whores that you sent up to my room.
I was fine with the fact that they had no teeth, that actually worked out quite well. I do however take issue with the fact that the one-eyed brunette knocked me out and stole my luggage after our session.
Please send me some Australian music CD's (YOU AM I) that were in my luggage. And tell me the name of that book where the guy learns about peacocking. Was it called The Game?
P.S. What was in those crab cakes I got from room service? I think I may have contracted crab lice from it.
Sincerely,
K.R. Ankiboy
this is a test
ok, now i can say what i want. your sentence:
i cook, i drink, i read, i laugh, i love.
i want to take it apart bit by bit.
the cooking. i do that, and i like it. alot. i am really happy when i am hanging out in the kitchen putting it all together.
the reading (i know it's out of order but i have to save the drinking and the loving until last). the reading. i feel like i would choose reading over anything else. i've been told i read too much. but that was by a non-reader, someone who had never read even one book in his life. can you believe it? this same person once ripped up some of my books in anger and jealousy. i think he was jealous of the time i was giving my books. time he thought was his.
can a person read too much? it is my joy.
laughing, i don't do enough of. i want to laugh so much that i can't breathe and i wet my pants. where you are shuddering and gasping and almost choking. these laughs are few and do not visit me often. but when they do, it is wonderful and the tears roll and i feel so cleaned out. not enough laughter in my life.
the drinking. ah the drinking. i am guessing you mean alcohol. i have been thinking lately that i must stop drinking. i drink too much. it makes me angry and tired for days afterwards. but how can i? i am addicted. not only to the alcohol but the fact that socially you can't be in this country, in my circle, in my family without drinking. heavily. this is bad. i am not young. i am old enough to know better. but i just can't stop it. i've been thinking of starting a blog about it. it's a huge thing just to write these words.
and finally the loving. i don't know that i can in the way that people want me to or need me to. i can love the bastards but not the goodies. does that make sense? there are some people i love without effort, it just flows and it just is. without question, without condition. this is family love. but romantic love is different. and sex, where does that come into it? my libido has crashed, is that the drinking? i am tired, is that the drinking? i am too busy and just want to read, and sleep. and not talk to anyone.
sorry to hijack this space. i've been needing to say this somewhere, in a private place, and the hotel seems like that sort of place.
j.
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