image stolen from strollingwild.com
Fucking money. 20 thousand dollars I may never have for a thing I don’t need. I could get a craigslist car for five grand. But fuck that. No more tow trucks. No more haggling with Armenians.
It has a sunroof. Picture driving to the desert. The stars. A girl. A girl… I’m buying the fantasy. All wheel drive in snow. 4 more horsepower than previous models. Have to haggle over interest rates. They know I’m a sucker. Don’t show them your cards. Don’t tell them your mommy can cosign for you if your welfare queen credit score is an issue. Don’t tell them this, don’t tell them that. Be prepared to walk away. Continue reading
Where the fuck did you go
I’m not hurting anyone. I’m not fucking anyone. So: nothing happens.
Wake up. Eat granola. Healthy stool. Shave. My car is broken. Imprudent to spend the money to fix it. Take the bus to the train to my workplace, where I struggle to be of service to the best of my ability. 9 hours of that. Train to the bus to the walk back home. Call the cat in. Eat leftovers. Jerk off to a black man impregnating an overweight Asian woman. Read three pages of A Feast for Crows. Fall asleep. I dream that I’m drinking. The feeling is: oh no I fucked up. Continue reading
(This is a selection from my book Hot Naked Tits, which you can buy here.)
One morning he looked in his neighbor’s window and saw a picture of his own cat.
The guy had his blinds closed like always. But today a computer monitor was pressed up by the window and the slats were pushed aside. There was a narrow triangle of open glass, enough to see in the apartment. It was stacked high with crap. Old books and magazines. Old art on the walls. Prints of Hudson River Valley school paintings cut out of a coffee table book, taped to the drywall. Certificates and degrees, too far away to read, yellowed, askew in cheap frames. And a picture of his cat. It too was framed. A foot high. iPhone picture, pixellated a little. Fluffykins regarded the camera with a dead mockingbird in his mouth. Continue reading
image stolen from oklahomacitybotanicalgardens.com
And now I’m shirtless. Trimmed my chest hair this morning. I feel like a naked pink baby. Can’t tell if I look good like this. Sitting Indian style. Folds of fat choked out by my belt. At 9% body fat this still happens. By the time I get rid of my last chub I’ll be so old I’ll just be skin. There’s another shirtless guy and I keep looking over thinking: does he look better than me?
A girl is checking me out. I guess that means I look good. Now I have this flash of fear. A burning house feeling. A girl looked at me; I better do something about it. This is it, Rocky. Your one shot. She looks away, then back. I don’t have the courage to maintain eye contact. I’d like to think it’s because I’m too mature to pick up girls. It’s because I’m chickenshit. So I look up and awkwardly half smile, making clear that I’m a small dicked nebbish whose seed is unworthy of her loins. Continue reading
image stolen from forums.miamibeach411.com
As a personal growth exercise, please answer the following question:
How would you describe your ideal behavior with regard to dating and sex?
I want to be a human hose. Permanently coupled to a never ending mountain of ovulating 13 year old Asian schoolgirls. Perpetually blasting hot yogurty goo into impossibly tight wet adolescent cunts. On the other end, my face, a team of servants stuffs nutrients necessary to continue pumping forth oceans of crawly ejaculate. Healthy foods such as blueberries and yams. Brussels sprouts. Doesn’t have to be organic shit. I’m not fancy. Continue reading
image stolen from angelfire.com/mi/dinosaurs/panels.html
Young girls only fuck at night, and I go to bed early. Before sleep I review my household budget. Murmur approvingly if I’ve saved on groceries. Electric usage dropped. Light touch with the AC. No cable bill but the internet I was paying 30 dollars for became 60 somehow, because I stayed with Time Warner Cable. Phone bill stayed 100 but only by fights and fights with Verizon. Bank fees successfully disputed but I could write an orchestral score of Bank of America hold music from memory. Continue reading
Waiting for my date in the park. We’ll feed ducks. The two gregarious barnyard ducks with the fucked up faces are here. Good news. They come right up to you. Wag their tails and chatter. She’ll be charmed by these friendly fowl and take my milky seed.
Last night’s party. Dave brought a fat 23 year old Asian. She got obliterated. It was nice to be touched. I prayed for the strength not to try to fuck her. I tried to fuck her. Listen, it’s not safe to take the bus, I said. Let me give you a ride home. Continue reading