Sunday, October 23, 2022, 8:14 am

Changing tastes

Ugh. When did pancakes start tasting like… regret?

Seriously, I can eat all of the chili peppers, with little to no consequence, but pancakes? Apparently, not anymore.

Friday, October 21, 2022, 10:22 am

Perfect pitch

Like morning wood and blueberry muffins.

This morning, I awoke with a god-like erection. This, in itself, is not unusual, except today it was.

For some reason, he was about twice the size as usual. Veins popping out to provide someone some extra pleasure. Hell, he didn’t even fit in my hand.

Classic porno dick.

Lately, mornings like this are my last remaining connections to my desires. Why is this? Are my head and heart so disconnected (I almost used “detached,” ouch!) from my cock?

And I still recall the dream. Entering the summer cabin in the woods, discovering a brown-skinned, brown-eyed beauty tidying up… someone I was not expecting. Apparently the cabin is double-booked, and we will be roommates. Her three children are playing about the cabin. Her husband and brother-in-law asleep in nap land.

Yet, she is trouble. The chemistry is… explosive. And her skin, so, so soft. And her tits, absolutely, incredibly, firm and round. Everyone else in the cabin fades into the background.

And then they’re gone. Just gone.

Oh, the unjudging beauty of dreams!

No wonder, I awoke with a kickstand. Now, I only need to find a new, tasty snack to keep on speed dial for these mornings…

Without getting caught in the minutiae of real life and relationships. Perhaps, if you’re not swept away by sharing your desires, it’s already too late and not meant to be.

I was thinkin’ of shootin’ my dick off. It’s caused me nothin’ but trouble my whole life… It don’t work half the time anyway.

Well, I wouldn’t be the one to know about that. But, it’s a small target and if you miss, you’re going to ruin our new hot tub.

While I really do have a magnificent penis, and love to share him with those who have none, and that quote still makes me snort, sadly, he hasn’t been the source of trouble in my life.

He’s magnificent. He’s misunderstood. Sometimes he’s unfortunate. Yet, there are days he charms the ladies better than I do.

Hell, I think he always charms the ladies better than I do. If I were better, he’d see a lot more action.

He genuinely aims to please (pun accidental). My mind still hears the voice of my dead, religious grandmother telling me girls want nice guys and shielding me from anything remotely desirous or sexual.

Again, how can one reconnect with his sex drive… before it really is too late? Before he ruins yet another relationship with a sterile, boring, friendship…

A man showing confidence and conviction have the same effect on a woman, as a woman showing her breasts has on a man.

This quote is often referred to in my world, yet the source (or exact phrasing) escapes me. Yet, I believe it to be true.

There was a time, not long ago, where I was awash in a sea of titties. All I had to do was ask, and most women were more than happy to oblige.

She’d smile, say “okay,” then lead me by the hand to a corner of the bar. And she’d pull down (or up, whichever was most convenient) her top and reveal Shangri-La for a few seconds. Or minutes. Or a touch. Or several.

I’ll get hard, she’ll get wet. The god-like erection vs. the tsunami. Truly male against female. Electric.

Thursday, October 20, 2022, 5:27 am

The dream...

The billboard read: Say NO. We don’t need another state-run hospital murdering our unborn babies.

Clearly, I am driving through a Catholic community. It’s small. A lot of classic cars. Railroad tracks. Cornfields. And bridges. And a distinct lack of racial diversity. And church-run hospital’s sponsoring billboards.

No homeless people. No one goes hungry. No one is cold. All of the beautiful white children excel in school. Everyone’s needs are met.

Yes, the American dream is still alive and well in this place. There is no need for abortion here. Because no one has any unfulfilled needs or wants. And everyone is wanted.

And this is where you are relocating. Your new and happy family. Three bright children with another on the way.

I’ve never understood your desire for more children. I don’t even think you’re Catholic, yet I’ve never asked either. But you’re happy here.

As former lovers, you’re giving me an auto tour of this idyllic paradise. Is it South Dakota? It sure looks like it… but in the sixties. Don Draper, eat your heart out.

As we’re driving around this small community, and you’re sharing in great detail, all of your hopes and dreams for your new family, the right wheels of the car keep dipping into the shoulder.

Yet, I say nothing. It’s not in my character to tell you you’re doing something wrong.

The tour continues. Frequently, the right side dipping into the shoulder. Then off the shoulder.

You’re so bright and happy. Your voice and eyes both filled with the delight of your new life. And I listen. Dutifully. Excitedly. It really does sound wonderful.

We tap a curb. Run over a toy on the side of the road. As we head towards an overpass. And towards the river.

As we exit the overpass, the wheels dip off again, onto a strategically placed trailer, which guides us back onto the road. You don’t even notice. No damage. No harm. No foul. Just an enjoyable li’l adventure.

Then over the bridge. Over the river. We’re remarkably close to the right side of the bridge, in this small community where there are no guides. Just a drop.

As the bridge ends, the river turns to run along the right side of the road.

I continue to say nothing about how close you ride to the right side of the road.

And as we exit the bridge. And the road. And into the river. In your last breath, you ask me, “Why?”

Why didn’t I tell you? Why did I let you kill us both? You, filled with joy and aliveness, and myself, filled with despair and dead inside.

I sit up awake. Is this what I do to others?

How much stock should we put into our dreams? Are they trying to send us messages we’re too stupid to receive when we’re awake?

Wednesday, October 19, 2022, 7:25 am

Conscience

I am guilty.

Of over-inflating my importance in your life.

You don’t need me. You certainly deserve better.

You, my dear, deserve the world. And joy. And happiness.

Someone who will deliver that promise. To take you to the moon and back. A sugar father, perhaps. At least someone who has found success.

Not someone who is afraid of success. And continues to run from it.

(And not just because his writing is better when he… avoids… success.)

I have fooled myself into believing I bring value to your life. Probably because you’ve brought so much into my own.

Yet, as last night’s dream demonstrated, I only bring more misery. And remind you of our miseries. Oh, and I bring trite platitudes.

Do I tell you what you want to hear? Or what you need to hear?

With me, as your navigator, will we drive off a bridge and into oblivion?

Yea. Probably.

I deserve to be alone. And you deserve better. Hell, you wouldn’t even be facing what you have to face if it wasn’t for me.

Yea. I deserve this immortality. Filled with vitriol. And solitude. And pain.

At least until I learn to be… better. And if you find… better… before that is a role I can fill, well, my dear, you deserve it all.

You deserve someone who isn’t (at least subconsciously) holding you (or both of us) back.

I believe in you. You’ve got this.

What i'm listening to:
Self Control Self Control
Laura Branigan
Self Control

Saturday, October 1, 2022, 9:25 pm

Blister

There is a blister on the bottom of my foot. It hurts. It distracts me.

Which is good. It keeps me in the room.

You see, I have slipped back into a pattern of self-centeredness. Narcissism, if you will. I failed the test.

The color of the wallpaper? Wrong. The temperature of the room? Right. The number of girls in the room?...

Wrong. Wow. What have I become?

So, for the duration of this blister, I will use its frequent reminders of its existence, to check in. What is the experience of the others in my conversation. In the room. In my life.

And be aware. And stop being an asshole. Stop being consumed by my own problems.

Saturday, September 24, 2022, 5:21 am

Just curious

Today’s thought: is Wordle utter agony for those who can’t spell?

Then again, I feel that way about fantasy football…

Friday, September 23, 2022, 9:54 am

About the love

“I have something to tell you. It’s good news—or bad news—depending on how you look at it.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the fear that the rubber(s) failed—and a little Meg or Jay was forthcoming.

“I… met someone,” she offered.

A massive wave of relief washes over my face. “Oooh. Tell me more!”

She proceeds to tell me the story. About how she met him through a coworker. About how they’re messaging non-stop. All the while she’s smiling and giggling, with an intoxicating light in her eyes.

“He talks to me like you do. He treats me like you do. He makes me feel like you do. Like I deserve happiness and joy. But…,” she trails off.

“But?”

“He hasn’t had sex in… ten years!”

“Wow! Ten years? What’s that even like?”

“Right?” Yet, she is excited!

And it’s in this moment, I know that she understands me. We adore each other, and enjoy being together.

However, our journeys are very different. I explained that from the start, but it wasn’t until this conversation that I know she understands.

That it’s about the love. And that each of us deserve it.

Sunday, September 18, 2022, 9:57 am

What is real?

Last winter, I lamented that I don’t want to feel like a charlatan. Anymore. Ever. Perhaps it is because I feel as if I’ve always bought into “Fake it until you make it.”

Yet, I’ve never made it. Fake it? Yes. Make it? No.

Dilettante, indeed. Jack of all trades, master of none.

Or have I?

My inner voice is constantly telling me I’m unsuccessful. Always riding the struggle bus. One disaster away from ruin. Constantly searching for evidence of a single decision in life that wasn’t… stupid.

So, I was stunned when my favorite girl tells me she’s jealous of my life. My freedom.

Yes, she’s an important part of my life. We have proven time and again that we support each other through all of our… stupid decisions. And hoping one will prove to be that springboard into our fantasies of being eccentric billionaires. Hoping. Maybe wishing is a better word.

So, what is real? As a charlatan surviving in an increasingly cruel world, is anything real? Apparently I am good at something. Money keeps appearing, even though it seems so surreal. As do the words on the page. Am I a writer? Perhaps.

Neither her nor I are making any obvious strides to get ahead. We take turns getting into trouble. We help each other out when we can. But neither of us manage to get ahead… for long, at least.

And, while we share many of the same passions and ideals, neither of us have anyone in our immediate social circle we can identify as successful. Or a mentor. Her friends are self-absorbed, drink too much, and are underwater in debt. My friends have a li’l money—enough for a comfortable living—yet have nothing else in their lives I find… desirable. And continuously give advice that is not asked for. And pass judgment on my unconventional life.

Is anything real? Am I truly immortal? If so, I’d better find a mentor who can help me live better than I am now.

I think I know where to look…

Saturday, August 13, 2022, 11:56 am

Wasting my time

You said it last spring. That I was wasting my time. And well, we have different ideas about relationships, and it is my time to waste, and ultimately we do enjoy each other, so I continued.

To waste. My time.

And life is unkind. To both of us, really.

Yet you have more at stake. And you shut down. In that respect, you truly are a modern woman.

I’ve awakened a lot of greatness in you. But when you go back behind the wall into your safe space in your head, well, let’s just say it is getting quite tedious to start over. Yet again.

Wasting my time, indeed.

Yes, you deserve joy. And love. And everything that comes along with it.

I adore you. I always will. But, perhaps, I can’t be around you.

Is there a balance? Can I be available to you? Without being there? Always checking in? And feeling like I’m... in the way?

Wasting my time, indeed.

After all, there is so much beauty... everywhere. Such as the lovely gymnastics instructor with sparkling blue eyes I am currently talking to.

Why intrude where I’m no longer wanted? I guess it’s time to let you make the next move...

What i’m listening to:
Ammonia Avenue Don't Answer Me
The Alan Parsons Project
Ammonia Avenue
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