delicioustacos

The homeless made it to my block. In a Mad Max caravan. Blue 90’s V8 Dodge Ram truck. Windows covered with those foil sunshades. A Winnebago. Both with bike frames and bike wheels on racks on the roof and chained up in carts behind them. Parked out by the grocery store.

I said hi to the main guy yesterday. Little dark man. Full beard. Mexican but eyes crazy like a New Guinea headhunter. Teenage looking Toltec girlfriend and the Winnebago’s full of cardboard and plastic bags. People going in and out partying. They have a kid. A little girl. And I don’t.

His girlfriend. I get half hard even glancing at her. Woman’s hottest traits are youth and poverty. Continue reading →

A note on the site:

I’m still going to post here, but I’m posting most new material on the Substack first. It’s $5 a month if you sign up for a year.

I knew a poet who converted to Orthodox Judaism. Litvak, the Ben Shapiro kind where you wear a suit and yarmulke. Not the big forelocks. But you still can’t turn off the lights on Saturday.

He’d always been looking for something. God’s the thing you’re looking for. First you try everything else. He got into Jordan Peterson. Before God got to him. Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Then a cool rabbi moved to the East Side and hosted dinner parties. Young people want to get married. They’d meet each other at the rabbi’s house. Continue reading →

He was a wild cat. He lived in the yard when I moved in. And I’d see him up on the neighbor’s roof. Stalking around the grass. Handsome. I’d ask around. I needed a cat. Do you know who owns that gray cat. The neighbors said he was feral. Continue reading →

My friend called me upset. He has random gay sex in the park at night. Sometimes in the daytime too. At 3AM or on lunch break, men in your town congregate in some agreed upon spot by the river. Or a certain bathroom in the mall, and so forth. To have unprotected sex with strangers. Then they go home to their wives.

Continue reading →

A girl sent me her pictures. A girl wrote me saying I’m going to school near you in the fall. And I think I’m your type. I love your writing. Asked if she could send a picture. I should have said no. But I didn’t. Continue reading →

My life will have no meaning or purpose. But it’s nice out in the yard. I saw an unusual bee. Tried to take its picture. When I got the phone close it flew away. In the tall grass you can only see it when it moves. You wait for it to land. Try again to take a picture. The camera won’t focus. When it gets too close the bee flushes. You lose it for second. You see it flying, and it lands. I almost get upset about not getting a picture of the bee. But I don’t. You can take my word for it.

It was smaller than a normal bee. Whiter yellows. Glossier. Less furry. A small elegant bee. My life will have no meaning or purpose. But it’s nice out in the yard.