delicioustacos

I’m rereading Houellebecq and can’t relate to it. Because I’m loved. There are the loved and the unloved. The living and the dead.

Romantic love is the source of all happiness. God won’t do it. Not to demean Him, I just mean He won’t make you happy. He’ll guide you to serve others He’ll give you purpose. Make you OK with not being happy.

But the source of happiness is romantic love.

She was mad at me, or felt weird about something- she was upset that I looked at myself too long in the gym mirror. She thinks I’m getting vain, she compares me to her ex boyfriend Kevin, whose mistakes are my fault. And it makes her think I’m in danger of getting back in the sleazy world I lived in for 30 years. She says do you understand what I’m saying and I say yes absolutely. I have no idea. I just want her to stop being mad. I have two paths. One is yes dear, the other is attack. I couldn’t be mean to her but I do think bitch what more can I do.

When we fight I have to contemplate going back to the unloved. Not because I want it but to find a way to live with it. Because if I can’t the relationship won’t hold. Anything you need that bad you lose. Continue reading →

You can’t respect women. You have to think she’s a born imbecile. Then when she does something stupid or infuriating you can say: she’s just a woman. I expect nothing of her but to be a beautiful moron. An incubator for my children. Something they’ll replace some day with a genetically modified donkey. A warm bag with tubes.

What I expect of myself is to fund everything, know everything, do everything. Save her from herself. From her stupid decisions. Maintain everything constantly, while she drives to Erewhon with no insurance one hand on the wheel the other texting.

She comes at you with some passionate argument and you think oh she’s PMSing. She just needs some dick. Continue reading →

They walked up the trail by the railroad tracks. Heading upstream. To where the river made a pool. Where he used to go trying to see hippie girls swim naked. They were never there. On the left the hills dropped through impossibly tall trees down to the river. On the right a green cliff rose trickling with tiny waterfalls. Susannah stopped when saw a banana slug in the moss.

It was bright gold and eight inches long. You could see its alien mouth punching out a leaf, leaving crescent shaped chomp marks. Yellow eye stalks whirling and probing. I want to pick it up, she said.

And he had the sensation he was coming out of a time machine. Continue reading →

We want to be married. But neither of us wants to plan the wedding. I as a man don’t want to enter the faggy world of selecting orchids and canapes. I don’t want to deal with a wedding planner, some horsefaced bitch whose job is to suck money out of me. But I want to say “wife.” Fiancee‘s such a pussy word. You can’t picture it not italicized. I want her to say husband and I want to say wife. I want to be her husband and I want her to be my wife. I want her to take my money. Continue reading →

It’s the big day. Don’t forget the ring.

What if she says no. I had a nightmare. We were walking on the beach and talking. Here in Japan. I started to say how would you feel about getting engaged and a high school marching band who was on a field trip on the beach started playing. Waves crashing and french horns sousaphones and trombones, fat kids in uniforms. She started to say I don’t want a serious relationship and I said IT’S TOO LOUD. Let’s go over there. We went behind a concrete pier piling and there was just a little trickling stream. I said but we love each other and she was saying no. But the kids from the marching band were there. We were sheltered from the sound and they could hear us. I said NOW IT’S TOO QUIET, god dammit. I had a nightmare where I floated the idea to her. And she said no. And here we were in Japan.

I’m posting new material on Substack.

Woman is the source of your happiness. What are you gonna do. You puff yourself up to get a woman. Once you have her you can’t keep her from leaving you. Gird yourself with looks money power ego connections, nice house nice yard, fame, whatever you want. She can leave. And with her your happiness. Continue reading →

People tell me I seem calmer. Is it God or my testosterone. I can’t fuck so don’t give a shit about anything. My old sugar babies write me letters. They’re smart and interesting. But had shitty parents. So they make money fucking old men. You suffer from your father not being around, or from him being around. I love you girls. I want to wrap you in a warm blanket and hold you. Continue reading →

Lord thank you for not giving me a woman. Thank you for my free time with the birds in the morning. Thank you for the space in my bed. The silence. Cooking what I want. Cleaning when I want. Not looking at texts when I want. Lord thank you for my early bedtime. Passing out watching James Bond. Listening to Youtubers talk about George R R Martin. Thank you for my new fat not mattering. Nose hairs not mattering. Thank you for working from home with no one here. Jacking off before meetings. Jacking off to women I knew. Who I’d hate to see now for any reason but fucking. Continue reading →

I had a dream. I was holding my baby son. On a train to take him back to his mother. Shared custody. The mother was maybe 28. A white woman, beautiful. We weren’t together,. I was handing him over. Telling her something. Giving her instructions about to do this, that. How to take care of him. And it occurred to me she knew what she was doing. It would be fine. She was his mother. Continue reading →