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Protected: Women Recently

25 Jun

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Fuck the Future, Burn Your Money

21 May

I need to fail. When good shit happens it hurts. I asked for a raise. Had to wait two months to know. The whole time thinking don’t freak out. God remove my obsession with money. God let me just show up and be of service. God remove outcome dependence. Let me be patient. But that’s not how it works. Continue reading

Bud

15 Mar

bud on wall

I was with a girl, this was maybe 2007. We went to the county shelter in Burbank to get a cat. A young male because my last cat was cool. The cat room there is a long row of tanks with plexiglass in front, air holes. 30 cats but no young guys until the very last cat in the very last row. Black and fluffy with a white star on his chest. Who’s this handsome fellow. He’s one of the bucket cats, the woman said. Two kittens found in a sealed paint bucket. The sister adopted already. This guy was aging out of “cute kitten,” maybe headed for the firing squad.

I put my finger on the glass and said: hey, bud. He put his paw on my finger. On the way out the clerk with the paperwork said do you know his name, and I said: Bud. Continue reading

Protected: Morning Diary: Hate O’Clock, Rise and Shine

12 Dec

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Protected: Why Don’t You Write About James Deen

4 Dec

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Reader Mailbag: Do You Need a Muse?

8 Nov
image stolen from calliopepoetryseries.com

image stolen from calliopepoetryseries.com

I need two million dollars so I can fuckin retire. I can make a muse. I could fall in love with a fucking couch cushion. Find a way to think the couch cushion didn’t love me back. The couch cushion is fucking other guys. I’ll never find another couch cushion like her.

Any woman can be a muse. Just like any woman can be a fuck. Just project your self hatred and inadequacy on her. In my Ted Kazcynski dream cabin I could make an elk my muse. Why won’t this elk return my texts.

Every girl I half like is a muse. Because I drive her away with neediness. What I want is: cuddle on the couch. Have babies. Cook fuckin Betty Crocker pork chops. I want to love and care for someone. Women are appalled by this. So no matter where I start—we could be talking about someone who spends money to be near me—I’ll get hung up on her. Afraid she’ll never like me. Afraid I’ll never write again. What made her like me will go away. What will be left. Clark Kent, but ugly. Gray collar small dick office nebbish. My true self.

Protected: Diary: Back from the Road Trip

15 Aug

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