delicioustacos

Unemployment Diary: Timing

So it’s great to not work but it has its own set of dangers. You will do nothing with your time; you will sit at a desk and jerk off all day while it’s 73 degrees and sunny outside and people are walking around with interesting stories and the great books of the world sit ignored on the shelf of a library that’s within walking distance. In your own home you have musical instruments, you have a machine that can teach you any language in the world, but the machine also shows you young Thai girls choking on big veiny dicks and I don’t need to tell you which one you end up picking. There is a whole other country, another culture, another language right next door; mountains and deserts and jungles– jungles! With jaguars in them! Toltecs in those crazy blankets with faces like temple carvings selling fruit in some high mountain pass, dark eyed girls and cheap beer. But you’re too scared to go to it. You could be kidnapped. Kidnapped away from what, jerking off? Arrested? Your life is a prison. The difference between this apartment and Mexican jail is I have a slightly better toilet. Continue reading →

Tags: jaguars, thai girls choking on big veiny dicks, unemployment

Comments 5 Comments
Categories Work

How to Write

17 Apr

Every morning, get up an hour before you have to. As you take your morning shit, read a book by your favorite writer. I recommend Charles Bukowski.

Then sit down, every day, and just make your fingers move on the keyboard. Just write the first shit that comes into your head. Don’t worry about structure or getting jokes in there or expressing any particular idea. Write this material with the idea that NO ONE is EVER going to read it. You will have a voice in your head chiming in constantly saying OMIGOD THIS FUCKING SUCKS! YOU HAVE NO TALENT! IF ANYONE EVER SAW THIS IT’D BE LIKE EVERY GIRL IN JUNIOR HIGH SEEING YOUR NAKED DICK AFTER YOU WERE SWIMMING IN ICE WATER! You will need to get past this voice. It takes about a year.
Continue reading →

Tags: nipples

Comments 11 Comments
Categories Work

Coffee Shop Diary: A Pretty Girl

17 Apr

Damn, this girl is really pretty. Which means she’s dating some guy in a band. Some guy with a job. Some guy with a smaller nose and a bigger dick. Some guy who is more confident. Some guy who would go talk to her at a party. Or perhaps this selfsame coffee shop. She sits there reading wishing a not bad looking guy would talk to her and one day one of them did and now he’s dating her. Listening to her discuss her boring schoolbooks, yes, but also fucking her. White skin black hair. Like she ought to be in a Frazetta painting wrapped around some barbarian’s thighs as he lofts a claymore over a dragon’s corpse, its eyes still glowing. Her fingers digging into the meat of your back. She notices the mass you have added to your rear deltoids. A tough muscle to isolate but you took care to hit it hard and now she notices. Her sweaty pussy on a hot day. She’s maybe 24. Young enough to have that glow, but an adult. Someone has her. Not you. You should have bought an amp and got in a band. Whatever. Her shoes are stupid.

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Coffee Shop Diary, Women

Protected: Weekend Journal 4-13-13: Pay for Play

17 Apr

Tags: days inn, the fine community of fontana california

Categories Weekend Journal, Women

Dreams

11 Apr

At some point your dreams cease being satisfying. There’s no more fucking and flying. It’s only: a vampire is coming after me, but, sweet, I have a gun! Then the gun doesn’t work. Vampire rips off your face and you wake up. Look, there’s a hot chick, let’s fuck her. You go up to her and she starts yelling at you about politics. You wake up.

I had a dream about my old boss; he was yelling at me. A screener of some film had arrived. I had it in my hands to give to him right away and he was like “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS WAS HERE??!!??” Totally something he would do. So I told him “look, it JUST got here,” and then I punched him in the face over and over and over again. He fell down. Then he turned into my mom. I had just beaten up my mom. I woke up.

To my subconscious: I get it. I have problems. Quit fucking reminding me and just give me some imaginary pussy.

Tags: vampires

Comments 17 Comments
Categories Work

Progress

11 Apr

Image from thingsimadethenate.blogspot.com

I was in the checkout line. Purchasing meat. London Broil was on sale, you get a big Family Pak with two huge steaks for $2.99 a pound.

A mousy young woman behind me who had sprouts and 7 grain bread turned to a guy whose basket was full of beets and said “looking at meat like that makes me nauseated.” She said it so I could hear it. What they call ”passive aggressive.” “You are a disgusting immoral pig,” she was saying to me, except with other words to another putative vegetarian because that’s how you do things. Continue reading →

Tags: feminism, meat, susan motherfucking faludi, the man-o-sphere

Comments 17 Comments
Categories Winston Churchill's Dick

Scavenging Is Illegal

10 Apr

Photo from numeroteca.org

Note: this piece steals many ideas from Adam Carolla.

I saw the first one right after Easter, on a garbage truck. “SCAVENGING IS ILLEGAL.” A picture of some poor fucker bent over a trash can trying to scrounge up a couple bucks worth of bottles and cans for a beer. They’ve finally done it. They have made a sign that would literally make Jesus Christ puke. Even the little crossed out baby sign on the dumpsters isn’t as bad. That one is trying to help people. You don’t have to throw out your baby, just take it to the firehouse. Also, what part of “Yard Waste Only” don’t you understand. But this one might as well be a huge middle finger flipping off a hobo and read “FUCK THE POOR.” Continue reading →

Tags: adam carolla, garbage, jesus christ, los angeles, the honorable antonio villaraigosa

Comments 11 Comments
Categories Rants

Coffee Shop Diary: Poems about Fruits

9 Apr

There’s a man in the coffee shop. He is talking to the cute waitress who I think hates me. She appears to hate me so much that I think she must be gay. But I guess not. He is asking if she ever reads books. Oh no, she laughs. Hahaha, I wish I could, I just never have the time. She works in a coffee shop that serves about eight customers a day and is also a bookstore.

He walks back to the shelf and comes back with a book, white cover black letters like those six packs in Maine that just say “beer,” and the cover says “Oranges Tangerines Bananas” or something. He hands it to her. It is his book; he wrote it. Oh, she says, I will have to check this out. He has a black leather jacket and a tattoo of a kite.

You motherfucker with your poems about fruits. If I had one more hustler gene I’d rule the world.