I had a dream that Isolde was pregnant. We were roommates. She was Mexican instead of Filipina. Some discussion that it might be mine. But she’d gone from not showing to a medium size bump instantly. She’d be about 4 or 5 months, we decided. So it was his. He was in the picture before me in this dream. She was wearing a midriff shirt. I could see the belly. Her being Mexican it might have had some downy hair. And she asked if I wanted to stay and take care of it. Continue reading
Sure. But that’s not what I worry about. I felt like an old loser at 22. Of course I look back now, see a picture of myself– I look like a baby. I feel like an old loser now. When I look back at 65 I’ll laugh at how stupid I was. I know this. Knowing this does nothing. It doesn’t help at all. But then hearing it from you doesn’t hurt. It does nothing. I hope it helps you. But you’ll wake up tomorrow needing to leave mean comments. I’ll wake up feeling like an old loser. It’s just genetic. Continue reading
I’m in the lobby of the doctor’s office waiting for my cancer results. My FWB Isolde who looks like a 15 year old Filipina prostitute is going to the West Coast premier of Dasha’s movie. At the Los Feliz 3 with one of the other dudes she’s fucking. I forget if it’s the one I’m trying to not be threatened by. But it has to be. I took her to the Marine Mammal Care Center. They rehabilitate sick pinnipeds. We saw a female elephant seal. She’s hot– Isolde, not the seal– and she smells good, and when I look at her I can sense myself start to catch feelings. I let it pass. Continue reading
delicioustacos 