Archive | May, 2013

Coffee Shop Diary: Cock Magellan

12 May

diverse smiling women

Look at that. Fat floppy Mexican teenage ass in yoga pants. Some men would be appalled by this, but I want to know what that ass looks like naked.

My buddy who travels around the world fucking whores says at some point you get sick of fucking. You’re not horny and you don’t want to cum but you keep buying three dollar malnourished Cambodians anyway because you just want to see what your dick looks like going in a new one. You’re just curious.

That’s the deeper difference between women and men, I think. Not how horny one or the other is but that chimplike curiosity, or the lack of it. Women never see your ass and think what kind of panties is he wearing. They never summon Jedi concentration to envisage a black strip of thong fabric rubbing against a little puckered pink butthole. Does she have a hairy pussy, a waxed pussy, a shaved pussy, an innie, an outie; is it pink, is it dark– hard to guess; she has dark hair green eyes. Continue reading

Protected: I Hate Squirting

12 May

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Unemployment Diary: Reason for Being

12 May

There is no purpose to my life. No purpose to getting out of bed. Still. What was my purpose before? Pleasing assholes who can’t be pleased, who were mercurial and cruel, for barely enough money to live off of, and nothing to look forward to but a lifetime of climbing up from the bottom of the assholes to the middle of the assholes. Chasing the privilege of being scared of the assholes above you and contemptuous of the assholes beneath you. Seeing people under you as simpering, grating disposable strivers, dogs rolling over when hit with a stick. Fuck that. You think things suck now, remember how much they sucked before. You think going to work would stop you from being nuts but work drives you nuts, too. Just in a different way.  This way I can go nuts on my own terms.

There is danger in solitude but there’s worse danger in the company of idiots. I’ve seen the movie industry, the TV industry, the book industry, what these things are really like. There is no place for me in this world.  I’ve done some traveling, some writing, I’ve met some girls, made some friends. Seen the stars in the desert, whales breaching in the ocean. Attack ships on fire off the rings of whateverthefuck. But mostly it’s been drinking and jerking off in my sweaty apartment. Fine.  It’s what I was born to do.

Protected: Drug Liveblog: Adderall® XR, Part 3

8 May

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Protected: Drug Liveblog: Adderall® XR, Part 2: 30MG

8 May

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Protected: Drug Liveblog: Adderall® XR, 15MG

8 May

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The Filth

7 May

My house is clean now, and I am profoundly uncomfortable in it. The girl did it. She even poured bleach in the toilet. Now it’s white. If I take a shit, it will leave a brown streak in the perfect white toilet and I will have to reach in there with a brush and scrub it off immediately. Then I will have to clean the brush. I will have to handle shit and caustic chemicals in order to not have the scarlet letter of my shit streaking the bowl, vividly bringing to her mind the image of me squeezing out Brussels sprout logs. The stove is now clean. I will have to furiously wipe it down after every spatter of spaghetti sauce because of this. Because it’s clean, now you have to keep it clean. Constant work and vigilance. How do people live like this.