image stolen from cromedicor.com
At the doctor’s office. The primary care physician Healthnet assigned me. Cesar Vialpando MD, of the Mi Familia Medical Group. Off Alameda south of 62d. The way here was all Chinese frozen squid warehouses, giant chemical silos.
Waiting room is packed to the gills. Artificial pine paneling. The guy’s desk at reception is just a mass of random papers. They don’t have a computer. It’s Mexico in here. I’m stunned no one has a goat or chicken. Except in Mexico I could have just gone to the Farmacia and bought the cheap pills I need. I have strep throat. All I need Cesar Vialpando MD to do is write a script for penicillin. All I need Healthnet to do is cover this simple trip to to the guy they assigned me. I will leave here with neither of these things. Continue reading
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Fucking shit. Storm knocked out the power at home. Had to go to the coffee shop. Bought my fucking chai and the wireless doesn’t work. Everything is a hassle. At least the girl next to me is pretty. Model face, like Chelsea. Broad nose, blue eyes. Fat pink top lip stuck out like Jimi Hendrix ripping a solo. Black yoga pants with a little zipper on the top of her ass crack. Chelsea’s eyes. Smart enough that you want to talk to her, dumb enough that you have a shot.
I have fucking shit to do and the power will never come back on. We will revolt and starve and die. I should have bought a gun. If society collapses, at least I can rape this broad in the tight black pants.
And of course, she walks behind me; sees my screen. Sorry. Continue reading
I don’t drink, I just jerk off all day. My dick looks like the chick’s back in 12 Years a Slave. Porn upon porn upon porn. The only lotion I have left has rosemary in it. It’s from a spa. They mix in fresh herbs. Rosemary just aggravates the scabs. I ride my bike and it’s like I dropped a live belt sander in my underwear.
Porn upon porn upon porn. A girl comes home to her apartment. Her older female roommate is angry. The young one locked herself out. Forgot her keys. Forgot her bills. The older roommate forces her to wear an adult diaper and be spanked. The dialogue is improv. Like all porns the acting is Punch and Judy. Until you get to the spanking. The girl’s squeals and cries are perfect. She really sounds like a small child. Jerk off dry in the sink. Ten hot ropes. Look up, you want the face in the mirror to be ashamed. But the eyes just say “yeah, what of it.” Back to the desk. You are about to close 8 tabs. Are you sure. Continue reading
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Previously: 2012, 2013
It’s my birthday today. I am thirty eight years old.
I had dreams of being pulled out to sea by storm waves. Woke up early and went out to the park. Neighbor was walking his dog. Told me there was a big car wreck down on Stadium Way. Went to the top of the hill to look. Cold fog hung around the trees. The evergreens were dead and brown. Marked with an X in spray paint; the city’s gonna come cut them down. Scotch pines. The tree my dad planted in the yard to commemorate my birth. That one was cut down too. Across the valley a murder of crows roosted on a dead eucalyptus. They were 500 yards away but as soon as I looked they flew off. Down on the road, fifteen fire trucks. A station wagon had hit a palm tree. It was spun around backward, crushed. All four doors laying on the grass, cut off by the jaws of life.
If I’d been looking for a portent for the coming year, well… fuck. Only thing that could have been more on the nose would have been the clouds forming my name and a big middle finger. Good thing I don’t believe in that shit. I rubbernecked long enough for my coffee to finish brewing. Then headed inside to drop a deuce. I’d eaten bleu cheese and arugula. The shit was historic. This was my portent. This year I will move mountains.
Here’s what an AA meeting is like.
First to get your question out of the way: yes there is pussy. Top shelf pussy. The pretty girl is there. The perfect girl. Distant and cold seeming in the way perfect girls are. But she’s not important. Because the girl one notch below her is there, too. That’s who catches your eye. She has to sit in a room once a week with that pretty girl. She is second best and she knows. Fucking happens when a girl is second best and she knows.
But there’s no way you’re getting anywhere near that girl. You’re all raw nerve and there’s a weasel gnawing at your heart. She can go fuck herself. Unless she has a superpower where she turns into a pint of Christian Brothers brandy, at the low cost per fucked up ratio of six ninety nine at Royale Junior Liquor Mart. Passed from behind three inches of Lucite by a smiling man from Calcutta like a fireman handing a mother a baby from a burning house. Fuck her. She won’t make you feel better. Only the sweet precious booze will make you feel better… sweet precious booze… get a hold of yourself man. Continue reading
So as long as I don’t need sex, sleep or human contact, not drinking is gonna go fine. As long as my nights are just: couch. Tubes running fluids in and out of my mouth, dick and ass. Endless loop of Mythbusters on Netflix. As long as I can handle days pacing my apartment alone muttering half sentences, snarling in the mirror… sitting down to write but the words move too fast. This, and one hour a night sitting in a church basement. Me and the other weirdos glaring at two big vinyl posters of platitudes. Everything will be fine.
Went to my second meeting last night. Had a date after. Her house. She made burritos. We fucked. She was on top. There is a tapestry hanging over her bed, with an Aztec theme. My mind left. Journeyed in between the threads making up a slope-headed peasant carrying a water jar. I traveled through irregularities in the textured plaster ceiling. They were mountains on Mars, or some snow planet. Does this not feel good to you honey, she asked. Well yeah, it feels good on my penis. But the rest of me– my entire soul feels like you ripped off a scab too soon. There was not newly formed skin underneath but raw bloody twitching flesh. My whole being is made up of raw skinless meat and a cold wind is blowing over it. Except for my dick. My dick feels great. Continue reading
I should have gone out with a five gram coke binge. Topped it off with some nasty skid row black tar. But this will have to do.
I’ve been sitting inside all day hung over. Reading stupid shit on the internet and listening to Opie and Anthony. Masturbating to small penis humiliation videos. I have work to do, important work. Big real estate project and a bunch of writing stuff. I need the money. I am too hung over. Continue reading